Shadow War - Deborah Chester [141]
“Give us the way in!” he said through his teeth.
Agel moaned something, reeling bonelessly in Caelan’s grip.
“Damn you to hell if you do not get us inside! Agel!”
At that moment he was ready to strangle his cousin from sheer rage if nothing else. He had nothing to lose now, nothing to care about.
As though sensing that, in silence Agel pulled a large metal key from his pocket.
Caelan seized it and turned, dragging his cousin with him as he ran back up the steps.
The Madruns were less than fifty paces from the main ceremonial steps. They roared at the sight of him and quickened their pace.
Stepping over Elandra’s unconscious form, Caelan slammed the key into the lock and turned it. The heavy door opened with a creak of its hinges.
He shoved Agel inside and picked up the girl. Her head lolled over his arm, her long hair spilling down like a curtain. Caelan carried her inside, then propped her against him while he pulled the door shut and locked it again. A heavy bar leaned against the wall. He threw that into the brackets as additional security.
A heavy thump against the panels made him flinch back. More thuds and kicks resounded off the door, and he could hear the cries of the enemy outside.
On a pedestal near the door, a single lamp cast a feeble glow. Caelan turned around and saw a narrow foyer with an open doorway at the opposite end. The air smelled musty and unclean. He heard unfamiliar sounds in the distance, and his skin crawled.
Agel stood erect once more, no longer stunned. His eyes met Caelan’s stonily even as a fresh barrage of kicks and thumps came from the door.
“That won’t hold against them long,” Agel said.
“Even with a spell-lock?”
“I know nothing of such things.”
Caelan didn’t trouble to argue. “Lead us below, to the hiding place of the priests.”
Agel frowned in defiance. “You’ll find no refuge here, disbeliever.”
Caelan’s final shreds of respect for this man faded. So Agel had joined the ranks of the blasphemers. His healer’s robes were a sham, his piety fake.
“Liar,” Caelan said harshly. “You have sipped the blood of the damned.”
Agel’s eyes flinched slightly, as though Caelan’s knowledge surprised him.
“You belong to Sien,” Caelan accused him. “Admit it!”
Agel inclined his head.
Grief knotted itself in Caelan’s heart, but he stayed remote from it. There was no time to deal with Agel now. Nor did he intend to discuss Agel’s attempt to kill him. Instead, he met his cousin’s wary eyes. “In the name of the empress, give her the assistance you would deny me.”
“The empress has no authority here,” Agel said sharply.
“What is this?” Another, deeper voice broke in.
Caelan turned quickly to face the doorway at the far end of the foyer.
Sien emerged, his deep set eyes luminous and alert in the gloom. His saffron robes had been discarded. He wore instead a tunic and leggings beneath a heavy traveling cloak.
At the sight of Caelan he checked, stared, then frowned. “You have brought the enemy to us,” he said. “You fool! Could you not lead them away long enough for—”
Caelan hefted the girl higher in his arms. “I ask help for the empress.”
Sien’s frown deepened. “The empress,” he said as though he did not recognize Elandra.
“Great Gault, man!” Caelan cried. “The empress! Your sovereign ruler.”
“Yes, of course,” Sien said, blinking. “Her arrival is unexpected. It will alter things—” Breaking off his sentence, he seemed to recover his court manners. With a slight bow, he gestured toward the doorway behind him. “This way.”
Caelan strode forward without hesitation. Beyond the doorway, a flight of steps descended steeply. He could see a feeble glow of light below, and he went down the steps as fast as he could with his burden. Behind him, he heard a low murmur of voices as though Sien was giving Agel a set of instructions.
I am mad to come here, Caelan thought, but he shoved his doubts away. There was no choice. He could not reason with the Madruns, or ask for civilized treatment if they were to take Elandra prisoner. They would defile and kill her, and the