MacNeil.
But, on the other hand, if the freak was real and the wards were real, that
would have thrown the spy completely off balance. Being trapped in the Tower by
the wards would have been the last thing he'd expected. He'd have to be getting
pretty desperate by now. And desperate men make mistakes. Hawk pursed his lips
thoughtfully. So, it all came down to whether the wards were actually there.
Either way, the answer to that question would tell him something important.
Unless Fenris had let the freak out for some reason… Hawk decided he wasn't
going to think about it anymore for a while. It was all getting too complicated.
All that mattered for the moment was checking whether the wards were actually
there. He walked casually forward. He hadn't made half a dozen steps before
Jamie called urgently after him, and came running up behind him to grab him by
the arm.
"Don't go near the wards, Richard, it isn't safe." He bent down, picked up a
clump of grass and threw it forward. It flew a few feet and then flared up
suddenly, burning soundlessly with a brilliant, eye-searing flame. Within
seconds there were only a few particles of ash, which were carried away on the
wind. Jamie wiped his hands on a handkerchief, then tucked it neatly away in his
sleeve. "Sorry about that, Richard. I should have warned you."
"That's all right," said Hawk steadily. "I wasn't thinking."
They both turned away from the wards and joined the others in circling round the
Tower, searching for an empty window. Curtains and clothing and other markers
flapped fitfully at the many windows and arrow slits. An excited shout went up
as Jamie spotted an unmarked window, only to quickly fall away as Alistair and
Hawk pointed out two more. The four men stood quietly together a moment, looking
at the Tower and each other.
"Three?" said Jamie. "How the hell can there be three windows?"
"Presumably there are two more hidden rooms," said Marc.
"And with our luck, two more freaks," said Hawk.
Jamie winced. "Please, Richard. Don't say that. Not even as a joke. Things are
bad enough without tempting fate. No; whatever those rooms are, they can't have
anything to do with the freak, or Dad would have mentioned them in his notes."
"Not necessarily," said Alistair.
"We're wasting time," said Marc. "The quickest way to find out why there are two
more hidden rooms is to go and take a look."
"He's right," said Hawk. "We have to know what's in those rooms. One of them's
got to have the answers we need."
"Very well, let's go," said Jamie, staring up at the windows. "All three rooms
are on the third floor. They shouldn't be too difficult to find."
He led the way back into the Tower and up the stairs, moving at a fast walk that
threatened frequently to break into a run but somehow never quite did. Hawk
admired Jamie's self-control. It was only the MacNeil's example that kept him
from taking the steps two at a time at a dead run. They were getting close to
the answers now; he could feel it in his water. He was still cautious enough to
keep a watchful eye on his surroundings, but nothing moved in the shadows and
the only sound on the quiet was their own hurried footsteps and harsh breathing.
Hawk kept a firm grip on his sword hilt. It was all too easy. Somehow, in some
way Hawk didn't understand, the freak was leading them around by the nose. They
had to be doing exactly what he wanted, or he'd have attacked them by now. It
was the only explanation that made sense.
They burst out onto the third floor, breathing heavily from the stairs, and
Jamie strode briskly down the corridor, counting off doorways as he went. He
stopped before a featureless stretch of wall, and waited impatiently for the
others to catch up. Hawk studied the brickwork dubiously. It looked no different
from any other stretch of wall. He looked at Jamie.
"Are you sure this is the right place?"
"Of course I'm sure! I grew up here; I know every floor and every room of Tower
MacNeil like the back of my own hand. For example…" He walked back a dozen
paces, and pressed a piece of stone scrollwork. There was a faint grinding
noise, and a section of wall swung slowly open on concealed hinges, revealing a
dark, narrow passage. "It's one of the old secret stairways; ends up in the
library. One of the more useful shortcuts built into the Tower." He pushed the
section of wall shut with a grunt, and it locked silently back into position,
with nothing to show it had ever opened.
"Very impressive," said Hawk as Jamie came back to join them. "I'll remember it
if I'm in a hurry. In the meantime, if there is a room behind this wall, how do
we get in? Break the wall down?"
"That may not be necessary," said Alistair. "Look closely. This particular
stretch of brickwork seems more modern than the rest."
They all looked. Hawk was damned if he could see any difference, but didn't say
so.
"Look for a hidden catch or lever," said Alistair. "Something that doesn't quite
fit, or that seems somehow out of place."
They pressed in close to the wall, running their fingertips across the bricks
and mortar, and staring intently at every crack and crevice. In the end, Jamie
was the one who found the lever. It was disguised as one of the lamp brackets,
and Jamie had noticed it was a slightly different design than the ones on either
side of it. He gave it a good hard tug, and it tilted out of the wall. There was
a hesitant rumbling of hidden machinery, and then a section of the wall swung
open. Jamie stepped forward to look inside and Hawk moved quickly in beside him,
sword at the ready.
The room was small and featureless, lit only by daylight filtering through a
narrow slit window. It was completely empty. Hawk scowled and lowered his sword
as Marc and Alistair crowded in behind him.
"Why go to all the trouble of setting up a concealed room and then not use it?
That's crazy."
"Not really," said Jamie, taking a few steps into the room. "This was probably
meant for use as a last-ditch bolt-hole, in times of trouble or unrest. There
was a time, not that many Kings ago, when the MacNeils weren't too popular at
Court. They made the mistake of telling the King the truth instead of what he
wanted to hear, and had the impertinence to stick up for their friends, even
when those friends had fallen out of favor. The MacNeils always did have more
loyalty than sense. Anyway, this was probably intended as a hiding place for
guests the MacNeils weren't supposed to be talking to, or maybe as a refuge for
women and children if the Tower was ever put under siege. We MacNeils haven't
survived this long without learning a few tricks along the way."
"Damn right," growled Alistair. "Never trust in the gratitude of Kings or
politicians. They all have bloody short memories when they feel like it."
Hawk nodded politely, disguising his interest. He hadn't known the MacNeils had
a history of bad relations with the Court. That might explain why Fenris had
gone to ground at Tower MacNeil in the first place.
"This is all very interesting," said Marc, in a tone that implied it wasn't, at
&
nbsp; all. "But do you think we could please get a move on? We have two more rooms to
find, and the less time we spend on our own up here, the better."
"The lad's right," said Alistair. "We've left the women alone too long as it
is."
"They're protected," said Jamie. "They'll be all right till we get back."
Alistair sniffed. "Some protection; a dandy, a drunk, and two old men. There's
no telling what might have happened while we've been gallivanting about up
here."
"Then let's stop wasting time arguing and look for the other two rooms," said
Hawk, cutting in quickly to head off the row before it got out of hand. "Jamie,
is there a tool cupboard, or something like that up here?"
"Of course," said Jamie stiffly. "Why?"
"Well, it just occurred to me that we might not be able to find the hidden
mechanisms for the other two rooms, and we might have to get into them the hard
way—with sledgehammers and crowbars."
"Good thinking," said Alistair, nodding approvingly. "Well, Jamie?"
"This way," said the MacNeil. He stepped out of the room and started off down
the corridor. "Leave the door open," he said over his shoulder. "We might need
to find the room again in a hurry."
They found the tool cupboard easily enough, but sorting through the contents
servants were for—and he found the contents fascinating, discovering all kinds
of things he didn't know he had. He rummaged away happily, while everyone else
helped themselves to what they wanted. Alistair and Marc both chose crowbars,
hefting them with obvious unfamiliarity, while Hawk went straight for a
short-handled sledgehammer with a large flat head. He liked the feel and weight
of it. It reminded him of his axe. He swung it easily a few times, and stuck it
through his belt. Everyone then had to wait while Jamie searched for a hammer
just like Hawk's. He swung it a few times, raised an eyebrow at the weight, and
then led the way back down the corridor to the next hidden room.
The hallway grew darker as they moved along. The Tower's architects had seen no
reason to waste expensive glass windows on a storage level used mainly by
servants, and had mostly made do with arrow slits. There were lamp brackets on
the walls at regular intervals, but with all the servants gone, none of the
lamps was lit. The group moved from one pool of light to another, plunged
occasionally into gloom as clouds passed before the sun, cutting off the
daylight. Hawk peered watchfully about him, his free hand resting on the hammer
head.
The second stretch of brickwork Jamie indicated looked just as innocuous as the
first. Hawk tried all the lamp brackets in the vicinity, but nothing happened. A
thorough search of the bricks and mortar failed to turn up any other hidden
catches or levers, so they did it the hard way. Hawk and Jamie rolled up their
sleeves, Jamie clumsily following Hawk's example, and then they set to work with
their sledgehammers on what looked like the weakest spot. The old brickwork gave
way surprisingly easily, and they soon opened up a hole big enough for Alistair
and Marc to work on with their crowbars while Hawk and Jamie took a rest. When
the hole looked big enough, everyone stepped back to let Jamie peer into the
gloom beyond.
"Well?" said Mark. "What's in there?"
"Looks like a… writing desk," said Jamie. "There are papers on it. I've got to
get in there. We'll have to widen the hole some more."
He stepped back, and between them the group knocked and levered away bricks
until the hole was big enough for Jamie to squeeze through. Hawk clambered
through after him, and then quickly turned to stop Marc and Alistair following
him.
"You'd better stay where you are; this looks like a really bad place to be
cornered in. Watch the corridor. We'll yell out if we find anything
interesting."
Alistair sniffed and turned away, his back radiating disapproval. Marc just
nodded and turned away. Hawk moved over to join Jamie, who was leaning over the
desk, shuffling through a sheaf of papers and squinting at them in the meager
light from the slit window. There was a lamp on the desk. Hawk picked it up and
shook it, and heard oil gurgle. He raised an eyebrow. Someone had been in the
room recently. Which meant there was a way in that they'd missed. He shrugged
and lit the lamp, holding it over the papers. The crabbed handwriting was
difficult to read, even with the additional light, but Hawk was able to make out
enough of it to give him goose flesh. The author had to be the freak's father.
Jamie swore softly as he struggled with the handwriting.
"These are old, Richard, really old. I need to study them. This bit here seems
to have been written directly after the freak was walled up and left to die;
something about its…
unnatural appetites. There are hints here about what the freak actually is, and
how to deal with it; all the things Dad never got around to telling me. Richard,
we've struck gold!"
"Don't get too excited yet," said Hawk, keeping his voice low. "Here's something
else for you to think about: Someone was in here before us, not long ago."
Jamie looked at him sharply. "How can you tell?"
"There was fresh oil in this lamp. What worries me is how he got in."
"Presumably there's a secret mechanism here somewhere, and we missed it."
"Maybe. And maybe there isn't, and our visitor used magic."
They looked at each other for a long moment. "What are you saying?" said Jamie
"I'm not sure. But if there is a secret magic-user here in Tower MacNeil, that
could complicate the hell out of things."
Jamie frowned. "Dad was the magic-user in this Family; I never had much of a
gift for it myself. He could have been here while he was putting together his
notes for me."
"That's a possibility," said Hawk. "But we can't bank on it. Let's keep this to
ourselves for the time being. If there is a secret magic-user among us, we don't
want to spook him. Or her."
Jamie started to say something, then stopped as Alistair leaned in through the
hole in the wall. "What are you two muttering about?"
"Nothing," said Hawk. "We've just found some old papers, that's all. We'll check
them out downstairs."
"Right," said Jamie. He went quickly through the desk drawers, and gathered up a
few more papers. He rolled them all up and stuffed them inside his shirt. "Let's
go. We've still got to find the third room."
They found it sooner than they expected. They rounded a curve in the corridor,
and stopped dead in their tracks as they saw a great hole in the wall and debris
scattered across the floor. Jagged half-bricks jutted from the sides of the hole
like broken teeth, and the wall itself bowed slightly outwards into the
corridor, as though there'd been an explosion in the room beyond.
"That's not possible," said Jamie. "We passed this way less than half an hour
ago, and there was no trace of this then!"
"It's here now," said Hawk. He knelt down among the rubble and examined it
closely in the light o
f the lamp he'd brought with him from the last room. "This
happened some time ago. There's a layer of dust here that hasn't been disturbed.
But you're right, Jamie; we did come this way before. You can see our footprints
in the dust over there. Strange. There isn't this much dust anywhere else on
this floor."
"What does that mean?" said Jamie.
Hawk shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe the servants just didn't feel like dusting this
particular bit of corridor for some reason." He got to his feet, and moved over
to inspect the broken wall. "This is interesting, too. Look at the way the
bricks splay outwards. They must have been hit from the other side, from inside
the room. The freak did this himself, presumably with his bare hands."
"Gods save us," said Jamie. "What kind of monster is it?"
Alistair moved over to study the hole, scowling thoughtfully. "Nothing human
could have done this. The wall was stout and heavy, built to last." He peered
through the hole at the room beyond, and his voice changed. "Richard, bring that
lamp over here, would you?"
Hawk did so, and the others crowded round so they could all see into the hidden
room. Scattered across the floor of the tiny cell were hundreds of small bones.
Among them were the bodies of several small creatures, rats and mice and other
things too decayed and corrupt to identify. The room stank of age and decay,
like a freshly opened tomb.
"Well, now we know what he ate," said Jamie, his voice too steady to be natural.
"It doesn't explain how they got into a bricked-up room," said Hawk. "Besides,
some of the less decayed bodies look practically untouched."
He stepped back from the hole to get some fresh air, and the others gladly took
this as an excuse to do the same. They looked at each other for a while, at a
loss for words.
Hawk nudged a brick on the floor with his foot, and the sudden grating sound
seemed very loud.
"Perhaps there's something in the papers that will explain this," said Jamie
finally. "I'll check them when we get downstairs."
"There's only one explanation," said Alistair. "Magic. Some kind of illusion.
The hole in the wall was there all the time, and we walked right past it without
seeing it. Hell, we must have been practically stumbling over the rubble."
"So what happened to the illusion?" said Hawk. "Why are we able to see the hole