The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [210]
James hops down onto the steps and holds the trapdoor open while the young man hops down beside him. Together they lower the trapdoor and are plunged into darkness. James has an urge to create an orb, but resists it. The last thing he wants to do is to let whoever is down here know what he’s capable of. Keeping that information secret has proved beneficial on several different occasions.
Once the sound of the young man moving down the steps comes to him, he slowly follows. Step by step, he descends ten steps before coming to a narrow passage. Keeping a hand on one wall as a guide, he walks forward, all the while allowing the sound of the young man’s footsteps to lead him.
“Where…?” he begins when the young man’s voice says cuts him off with “Keep quiet!” So keeping quiet, he continues to follow him. At one point, the passage they are in makes a sharp turn to the right. James didn’t realize it quickly enough and wound up stubbing his toe on the wall in front of him.
“Shhh!” the young man whispers when James began cursing his throbbing toe.
After that, he kept one hand out in front of him as well as the one to the side. A good thing he did for it saved his toes another stubbing when the passage abruptly curved back to the left. A faint light can now be seen coming from further down this new passage. It steadily grows brighter as they move toward it until James recognizes that the light is making its way through the cracks around a door.
He quickens his pace when he sees the young man is already at the doorway. Light floods the passage as the door is opened and he has to squint for a few seconds until his eyes get readjusted to the light. Moving out of the passage, James enters what appears to be an ordinary cellar beneath some building.
Two other men are in the room, both dressed as slaves. One of them is the same slave as Scar and Potbelly had nabbed keeping an eye on them in the hallway outside their room.
“Go on in,” the slave says to the young man.
Without a word, the young man steps toward the opening on the far side of the cellar. An archway separates the room they are in with the one lying on the far side. Many candles are lit within the next room and as James passes through the archway, he sees a middle aged man lying on a series of cushions upon a rug on the floor.
“I brought him,” the young man says to the other.
“Leave us,” the man on the cushions says.
Bowing to him, the young man backs out through the archway.
Indicating a cushion sitting on the floor near him, the man says, “Please be seated.”
“Thank you,” replies James. Moving to the cushion, he settles down on top of it.
“It’s not often I have guests here,” the man tells him. Lifting up a plate bearing slightly squishy sliced fruit that’s turning brown, he offers it to James.
Really not wanting any of the old fruit, yet not wishing to offend his host, he takes one. Placing it in his mouth, he chews it and can taste the slight rancidity of spoiled fruit. “Thank you,” he says as he tries to swallow without spewing it back up again.
The man smiles and nods. “A pleasure to meet one such as you,” he says.
James arcs an eye questioningly at him. “Oh, I know who you are,” he explains. “James I believe your name is. And a mage of some power.”
James eyes him suspiciously and remains silent.
“Oh you needn’t try to hide the fact,” he says. “But who you are doesn’t really matter now does it? You wanted some information I believe?”
“Who are you?” James asks.
“Ah, that is a question many would like to know,” he replies. “Suffice it to say that I am the Slavemaster.”
“Slavemaster?” asks James.
“More of a title than a profession really,” he says.
“I see,” says James.
Without expanding any further on who he is, the Slavemaster says, “I understand you are planning on entering the temple here in Zixtyn.”
“That’s right,” he says.