The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [36]
"But you can't," Jonal sputtered. "If he's in the middle of an experiment, you could be killed."
"We're out of food again," Meisha snapped. "The north wards failed last night, letting in two deep bats and gods know what else we haven't seen. All the while Varan's been tucked away in his nest. It's time someone shook the branches."
The workroom was lit and locked again, but Meisha was three years older, and Varan had grown careless with his simple magics.
She grabbed the door latch and summoned fire to her hand. Wood disintegrated into black charring, and she dropped the searing latch to the ground.
Meisha burst into Varan's chamber, and immediately saw the glowing circle centered on the wizard's worktable.
Varan stood with his back to her, his attention on an object hovering above the table.
"I'll ask you to tepair that door at your earliest convenience, Meisha," he said testily. He moved his hands over the object: a glove that appeared to be made of liquid metal, a shimmering waterfall of steel. "I've grown accustomed to your late night poundings on my door; but what brings you so suddenly and so violently into my room? Risking your own life in the process, I might add."
"Shaera's gone missing," Meisha said. "Jonal says she went beyond the watds."
"Gone exploring, I expect." Varan still hadn't turned around. His shoulders drooped as if he carried sacks of stone, but he maintained the swirling pattern of magic around the glove. "Does Jonal know where?"
"The Climb," Meisha said uncertainly. "I didn't know what he meant."
"You wouldn't," said Varan, "because I have not gotten around to showing the passage to you ot warning you that to attempt it is beyond stupidity. Shaera, if she turns up injured, will have taken care of both tasks quite capably."
Meisha, her jaw clenched, stated hatefully at the wizard's back. She fought the temptation to shove him into the bright sphere of his Art. Anything to get his attention for one breath, even if it turned out to be her last on Toril.
"Don't you care?" she spat. "If nothing else, she is air. Your training will have gone to waste if she dies!"
Varan made a gesture, and the floating miasma froze in place. Slowly, the orange glow of torchlight replaced the magical light in the room. He turned to face her.
Meisha flinched involuntarily at the haggardness of his face. Gray hairs shed from his beard to litter the front of his robes. Meisha did not know if stress or the force of his Art had caused them to fall out. The magic seemed to be taking him a piece at a time.
May any watching gods smite me if I come to this, Meisha thought. She found herself unable to feel a shied of pity fot her master. She was too angry.
For his part, Varan did not seem to notice her fury. "Did you come here to ask for my help, or my permission to go aftet Shaera?" he asked. He leaned against the table for support. "In either event, I'm surprised at your outburst. You've never shown any inclination of friendship to Shaera or the other apprentices. In fact, you consider yourself superior to all of them."
"Because I am."
"I won't dispute you. But I do warn you: be cautious wheie you aim yout righteous anger, little firebird."
"I don't have time for this," Meisha snarled. "If you won't help me, tell me what the Climb is."
"As you wish."
He told her.
"The Climb," Meisha chuckled bitteily. She regarded the round rat hole in the wall and the impenetrable darkness within. "More like a long fall."
Varan said hands other than his had tunneled the hole out of the stone. Meisha wondered briefly if those hands had been a dwarf s, and if one of them had carried a broken battle-axe. Varan's mark hung on the wall above the hole, warning the apprentices away.
Jonal stood hesitantly at her elbow. "Do you think it's true?" he asked in hushed tones, as if the wizard might overhear. "Do you believe the tunnel goes all the way down to the testing chambers?"
"And beyond-so he claims," Meisha said stiffly. She didn't know what to believe.