“Good enough,” Hobart said, lifting Giorge off the wall and bending over to gently set him on the ground. “I’ll hold onto the rope while it drops, and you can feed it through the winch.”

  “Don’t forget to attach the Lamplight to it before we drop it,” Giorge said as he leaned against the well and looked down. “We need to know how far down it goes.”

  Angus nodded and bent over to attach the Lamplight to the rope just above the bucket’s handle. “This will give us some idea of what’s down there,” he said, “and it might let us see what’s beneath the water.” He held the bucket over the well and let it drop at a controlled but fast rate. As they watched the bucket descend, all they saw was what they would have expected to see in the inside of a well: the inner wall covered with grit. When the bucket struck water and submerged, that was still all they saw, but less clearly because of the distortion of the water.

  “So much for that,” Angus said. “We won’t be able to see anything more without going down there. At least it doesn’t look like the water is very deep.”

  “Why would we do go down there?” Hobart asked. “We’ll have plenty of water soon enough.”

  Angus moved gracefully along the top of the wall and threaded the rope through the winch. He tested it to make sure it wouldn’t come back out, and then went back to the other side and pulled it easily through. Once it tautened, he handed the rope to Hobart, half-smiled, and said, “It’s your water.” And your robe, the voice in his head said, chuckling.

  Giorge sighed and pointed down the well. “Hobart,” he said. “The Viper’s Eyes are down there.”

  “What do you mean?” Hobart said, pulling on the rope. “How do you know that?”

  “I can feel it,” Giorge said. “I’m being pulled toward it, and if the urge gets much stronger, I’ll jump into the well to get down to them if I have to.”

  “I can see it down there,” Angus added. “Not the Eyes, but the magic drawing Giorge to them.”

  Hobart pulled on the rope for several seconds, and then said. “Well, we can’t do much about it tonight.”

  “No,” Angus agreed. “But we can get your padding and cloak clean and dry.”

  “Dry?” Hobart asked. “It will take all night for it to dry.”

  Angus shook his head and pointed at the approaching Lamplight. “That will dry it much more quickly. And my robe,” he added, “will keep your hands from freezing while you wash it.”

  Two minutes later, they were on their way back to the tent, and an hour after that Angus was huddling in his robe and warm, truly warm, for the first time in hours….

  12

  The next morning, Giorge wanted to climb down the well before dawn, and it was all they could do to keep him in the tent. While he fretted, Angus picked up his backpack and went to the tent flap. Before opening it, he turned to Ortis and said, “We’re going to need more firewood. Gather some up and stack it next to the well.”

  “Why?” Ortis said.

  “I’m going to cast Flame Bubble around the well,” he said. “It’s the spell I cast in the other clearing. It should dry the wood so that it will burn more easily.” He had to prime for it first, and he couldn’t do that with Giorge prancing about in the tent. So he went outside and found a place to sit down, and once he was comfortable, he primed for the same spells he had used the day before: Flame Bubble, Lamplight, and Puffer. When he returned to the tent, Giorge and two of Ortis were gone, and the other Ortis handed him a bowl of stew. He accepted it with a nod and quickly ate what was offered without paying much attention to the taste. While he ate, Hobart finished his own meal and picked up his bundle of armor. He carried it outside, and that left Ortis and Angus alone in the tent.

  “Giorge is impatient,” Ortis said. “I’ve had to pull him back from the edge of the well twice already.”

  Angus shrugged. “Let him climb down,” he said. If he falls, we won’t have to worry about the curse anymore. “He’s going to have to at some point, anyway.”

  “He’s in no shape for climbing,” Ortis said.

  Angus shrugged. “Use the fletching harness and rope, like he suggested.”

  Ortis frowned and his orange-tinted owl-like eyes grew distant for a few seconds. Then he said, “Hobart is using the leather from the harnesses to fashion new straps for his armor. Some of them ripped when he pulled it off. He’s already cut one of them into strips, but I stopped him before he could start on the other. We’ll put Giorge in it and lower him down with the winch.”

  “Setting it up will keep Giorge busy long enough for me to finish,” Angus said. “Do you have the firewood ready?”

  “Yes,” Ortis said. “I stacked enough to last us for a few days.”

  “We should have more,” Angus said, scraping up the last of his stew and shoveling it into his mouth. He washed it down with ice-cold water and belched appreciatively. It had been a satisfying meal, but mainly because he had been quite hungry.

  “If Giorge gets the Eyes, what’s going to happen to him?” Ortis asked.

  Angus frowned. He didn’t know, but it wouldn’t be good. Ice, frost, snow—there were so many ways they could plague a person, so many ways they could kill. But he did know one thing, and that is what he told Ortis. “Whatever it is, it won’t be good. But it will be better than what would happen if he doesn’t.”

  Ortis frowned and asked, “Is there anything we can do to prepare for it?”

  Dress warm? Angus shook his head, mostly to rid himself of the voice in his head, and then realized Ortis must have taken the gesture to mean there wasn’t any way to prepare. “Until we have a better idea of the effects of the magic,” he said, “all we can do is make general preparations for cold-based attacks. Take the firewood, for instance. We’ll need a lot of it if we have to deal with unnaturally cold weather, blizzards, and things like that, but it won’t do a bit of good against a creature like that giant snake we encountered.”

  Ortis nodded slowly and said, “I’ll get more firewood.” Then he left the tent and Angus reluctantly followed after him. It was time to find out what dreadful thing Symptata had in store for Giorge, and he was as well-prepared for it as he could be—and still felt completely ill-prepared. At least he could melt the snow and ice around the well, dry some wood, and warm Giorge up when he came back out of the well. If he came back out. And what about himself? Shouldn’t he be the one going down the well first, if only to see where the magic was leading Giorge?

  Let it take him, the voice in his head hissed. Sardach knows I’m here.

  Sardach? That wizard he had seen? The one who had sought him out? Why should he be worried about him? It would take weeks for him to get from the Angst temple to where they had been when the scrying had found him.

  The Angst temple? What was Sardach doing there? How did he know….

  When he had traced the scrying back to the caster, he had entered through a hole in the ceiling. The edges of the stone had been melted. The floor had been burned. Sardach had cast the scrying in the same place that Angus had extinguished his Lava Man spell.

  Embril would be on her way to the Angst temple soon, if she wasn’t already. Commander Garret would not wait for Hobart’s banner to return; he would send his men there without them. He had a copy of the map Voltari had given him, the one that showed where the temple was.

  Let the curse take him, the voice purred in his mind. It’s his curse.

  Angus shook his head. No! he thought back, his own voice viciously intense. I have a duty to the banner, and I must do what I can to help him. He set his jaw, picked up his backpack, and walked out of the tent with a fierce sense of newfound purpose.

  It lasted only until he reached the well and realized he still had no idea what to do.

  Giorge was in the harness, sitting on the edge of the well waiting for him. He held out the bucket and asked, “How do you untie this knot?”

  Angus half-smiled and said, “I’ll show you.” He reached out for the bucket, looked at the knot, and paused. “You’ve messed with it,” he accused, studying the disheveled tangle for several seconds. Then he nodded to himself and set his fingers to work correcting Giorge’s catastrophe. Once it was untangled, he retied the knot and said, “Next time, ask before you try to do it yourself.” He held the knot out toward Giorge and used two fingers to push a loop back through the other loops encircling it. When it came out the other side, the rest of the knot unraveled easily.

  “That’s all that was holding it in place?” Giorge asked, raising his eyes. “How did it stay there?”

  Angus shook his head. He could try to explain the mechanics involved, but it had taken him weeks to master the basics for them. Did he really want to spend that much time explaining how knots worked to someone who wasn’t likely to live that long? “It’s complicated,” he said as he took the rope and tied it to the large metal ring on the front of Giorge’s harness. Then he focused on the magic to cast the Lamplight spell, ignoring as best he could the vibrant green stream of energy flowing from Giorge’s chest and into the well like an umbilical cord sucking him dry. He attached the Lamplight to Giorge’s shoulder and stepped back. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Giorge said, swinging around so his legs dangled inside the well.

  Ortis gripped the rope firmly as Giorge dropped into the well and swayed back and forth without descending. Ortis gave the rope some slack, but Giorge still swayed like a pendulum that was losing its momentum.

  Angus closed his eyes and shook his head. Why didn’t I remember to turn the rope around?

  Five minutes later, Giorge was on his way down the well. When he reached the bottom, there was a loud splash followed by a sharp yelp.

  “Giorge?” Ortis called down the well. “Do you need help?”

  “No!” Giorge shouted back up. “It’s just cold!” There was a pause, and then he added, “The water isn’t very deep.”

  “Good!” Angus yelled. “We’ll reverse the rope and get ready to pull you back up.”

  “He can’t stay in that water very long,” Ortis half-whispered. “The cold will do him in fairly quickly.”

  Angus nodded and jumped up on the well wall. As he pulled the rest of the rope through the winch, the voice in his head commanded him to drop the rope—and he almost did it. But his left hand snatched the end as it was falling, and he covered up the movement by repositioning himself to feed the rope back through the winch form the other side. He almost dropped it a second time before he had it threaded through the winch system. He stepped back across the well and pulled it through until it was taut again.

  “We should pull him up,” Ortis said. “He’s been under the water too long.”

  Under the water? Angus thought as he looked down the well. The Lamplight’s glow was clouded by the water, and he could only vaguely see Giorge’s shape just beyond it. As he watched, Giorge thrashed around a bit, but otherwise there was little indication of life. “Let him be for a few minutes,” Angus said. “He’s found something.”

  Ortis frowned and shook his head. “No,” he said. “If he doesn’t resurface soon, I’m pulling him up.”

  Angus shrugged. “He can hold his breath for quite a while,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about him yet. Give him at least five minutes.”

  Ortis frowned and asked, “How do you know that?”

  Standard training for a thief, the voice said. “He must have said something about it, once. I can’t remember when. You know how much he talks.”

  Giorge plunged up and gasped for breath for a few seconds, and then plunged quickly back under.

  “See?” Angus asked. “He’s all right for now, but when he does come up, he’ll need to get warm quickly.”

  “Yes,” Ortis said. “And it will take a minute or two to reel him in.”

  Five more minutes passed with Giorge bobbing up for air and submerging again. Then he finally came up with a small box cradled in his arms and shouted, “B-b-bring m-m-me o-o-out!”

  “I’ll get ready,” Angus said as two of Ortis alternated pulling on the rope, keeping Giorge moving upward at a steady, rapid, efficient pace.

  Angus moved close to the stack of firewood and estimated how far the effects of the Flame Bubble would travel, stepped back toward Ortis a few paces, and glanced at Hobart. He called, “If you want to get warm, Hobart, you’ll have to get closer to me.”

  Hobart stood up and walked to stand next to him, flexing his hands and rubbing his upper arms. “That robe of yours is amazing,” he said. “But I’ve been cold as hell ever since you took it back.”

  Angus half-smiled; he knew what Hobart meant. Then he brought the magical energy into focus and gathered in two of the threads of flame. He held them close together and made the same series of knots in each one as he went. By the time he had finished, Ortis had Giorge reeled in.

  Giorge shivered convulsively and his skin had a blue tinge to it, but he clutched the box he’d found to his chest as if it contained his last breath and he didn’t want it to escape.

  As soon as Ortis had him situated on the well wall, Angus slowly released the energy of the spell, sending out a series of short bursts of heat that rapidly melted the snow and ice. He prolonged the effects of the spell as long as he could, but the strands broke free with an intense burst of heat—without flame—in less than a minute.

  Giorge was still shivering, and if anything, a more intense shade of blue flickered about him. Angus frowned; he wasn’t looking at Giorge’s skin, but at something wrapped around that skin, a thin layer of blue-white magical energy. The scroll’s magic has migrated to Giorge, Angus thought. Is it going to freeze him to death? Then the other voice said, its tone sweetly condescending, You could give him your robe. Before he could reply and with a suddenness that shocked him, the energy surrounding Giorge was gone.

  He frowned. Where had the magic of the curse gone now? What was it doing? Why couldn’t he see it? Why hadn’t he seen it flee? Was it like the Viper’s Breath? Concealed behind something that shielded its energy from his perception? If that were the case—

  Giorge opened the box and stared into it with a puzzled look on his face. “It’s empty,” he said.

  The green stream of energy no longer flowed from him, but Angus knew The Viper’s Breath was still there, buried in his chest, waiting—but for what? Had the other energy joined it? Was it hibernating, waiting for him to approach whatever was next?

  Giorge reached into the box and brought out a small piece of parchment. Not quite empty, Angus thought as Giorge read it, frowned, and read it again, his lips moving silently as he did so.

  Angus stepped cautiously forward, looking for the missing blue-white aura that had briefly engulfed Giorge before disappearing. But he saw no sign of it, and by the time he was able to look over Giorge’s shoulder to read the message, he had given up looking for it. It would return sometime; he was certain of it.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Giorge said, holding the note at a different angle to make it easier for Angus to read.

  While he read, Angus’s right hand reached around Giorge and brought the scroll tube out of his pocket without him noticing it.

  The pain and danger felt thus far

  are but a taste of what’s in store,

  for twice the burden are the Eyes,

  and twice as swift is your demise.

  Halfway home; halfway free;

  soon the tomb of misery,

  wherein lies the Viper’s Skull

  that waits for you to pay its toll.”

  Symptata the Beggarman

  “How can the eyes be a burden when I don’t have them? There wasn’t anything in the box but this note.”

  Yes there was, Angus thought, wondering again what might have attracted the magic away from Giorge. “Is there a false bottom or other hidden compartment?” Angus asked, turning away from the message long enough to open the scroll tube. He had intended to find out if the magic was still in the second scroll—it could have retreated, especially if it were tied to the Viper’s Eyes and they were no longer in the box—but he’d opened the wrong end. Instead of finding the scrolls, he found the empty black velvet pouch that had held The Viper’s Fangs. But, it wasn’t empty any longer. Something was in it. Two somethings that felt like oval orbs….

  He handed it to Giorge and turned the scroll tube over to open the other end.

  Giorge’s eyes brightened as he felt the weight of the pouch, and a moment later, he dumped two round dark blue stones into his palm. They were about half the size of hen’s eggs, and when he turned them over, they had star-like white streaks in them. “Star sapphires,” Giorge whispered, his tone drenched in greed and admiration as if he had forgotten the curse embedded in them.

  Angus dropped the scrolls into his palm and glanced at each one separately. The first one was inert; the yellow-green magic was gone, and he was confident it would not return. The second one no longer held any of the blue-white magic within it, and it wasn’t on Giorge, either. It may have briefly migrated to Giorge, but it wasn’t there any longer. Where could it have gone? What could it have migrated to, instead? He quickly surveyed his companions and himself, but it wasn’t on any of them. Had it already dissipated? He had seen the aura; he was certain of that. Had his spell destroyed it? No, it was still there after the last burst of heat. When the yellow-green magic had left Giorge, it was to urge the giant snake to attack. Had this energy done the same thing? Was it bringing a giant snake to attack them? “I think we need to keep watch,” he said. “Even during the day.”

  “Why?” Giorge asked, looking up at him for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the Eyes and becoming absorbed by them again.

  “Whatever the magic of that second scroll is going to do,” he said, “it’s already doing it.”

  “I’ll patrol the perimeter,” one of Ortis said.

  “I better finish repairing my armor,” Hobart said. “If we get in a fight, I’d rather have it on.”

 

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