The Death Of The Necromancer - The Death Of The Necromancer Part 22
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The Death Of The Necromancer Part 22

Nicholas said. "Besides, it won't go up to the ground floor while we're still down here-it wants us.

Crack, pull that door to and lock it."

Nicholas led them back to the wall that adjoined the sewer. It was near the point where the corridor dead-ended into the catacombs, which meant they would be trapped down here if anything came in after them. I hope that is actually the sewer behind this, he thought, sitting on his heels to carefully unwrap the package and lay out the contents on the stone flags. If it wasn't, he was going to cause an awful commotion for nothing. He noted Reynard and Crack were taking the weapons to guard the open end of the corridor. That would buy them a few moments if they were discovered, but much depended on Nicholas getting this right the first time.

The blasting powder itself was contained within a small glass vial, carefully stoppered with a cork.

Most of the package contained the accoutrements for it, including a long coiled fuse and small chisel to set the charge within a wall. Madeline knelt beside him, saying quietly, "Cusard tried to tell me how to do it myself if I had to, but I'm just as glad I don't."

"Watch carefully, in case you ever have to again." Nicholas squinted up at the wall in the bad light, trying to judge the best point to set the charge. He had chosen a spot between two heavy support pillars, hoping they would hold up the ceiling if he made a mistake. He only wanted to make a small hole, just large enough for a human body to pass through easily.

"If you need assistance, do say so," Ronsarde said.

Nicholas glanced back and saw that Halle had retrieved his medical bag from Madeline and wasredoing their makeshift bandage of Ronsarde's head injury. That was good; if they were going into the sewer, the less odor of blood about them the better. The sewers had been their enemy's territory up until now; for that reason Nicholas hoped what they were doing would be unexpected.

Madeline watched as he chiseled out a hole in the damp pitted surface of the wall. "Are you going to shout at me later for allying myself with Halle?" She sounded more abstractly curious than apprehensive at the prospect.

Nicholas glanced back at the Inspector and the doctor again. They were just out of earshot and deep in their own conversation. He said, "I suppose I could, for all the good it would do, since you would simply stand there and nod, going over the soliloquy from Camielle in your head. Of course, I'd be a hypocritical bastard, since all this came about because in a moment of weakness I decided to rescue Inspector Ronsarde." Nicholas finished the hole, then reached for the glass vial. "Stop breathing for the next few moments, please."

Madeline held her breath while he measured out a small quantity of the powder onto a piece of the packing paper and carefully slid it down into the spot prepared for it in the wall. When he nodded that it was all right, she said, "A moment of weakness?"

Nicholas picked up the fuse. "Yes. We'll see how weak if I end up having to break all of us out of here again, this time from the cellblocks after our trials."

Madeline's expression was serious. "Do you think he'll do that? Turn us in?"

Nicholas let out his breath. It had been a long day for hard questions. "If you were him, you wouldn't.

If I was him, I might, in the right mood. I don't know."

Madeline drew breath to speak, then made a startled exclamation instead. She lifted the sphere from her lap, looking into it. "Something's coming."

Nicholas stared down at the sphere, frowning, then at the empty corridor stretching away in the half-light. "How do you know?"

"It's humming, it does that when it senses power. Touch it."

Nicholas hesitated, then reached down and touched the metal of the sphere with a fingertip. It was oddly warm and Madeline was right, it was resonating slightly. "We have a problem," Nicholas said, pitching his voice louder to get the others' attention.

Crack said suddenly, "Wait, do you smell that? It's here again."

"Yes," Reynard said, shifting his hold on the rifle. "That's it."

In another moment Nicholas knew what they meant. A foul odor was drifting down the corridor, the same miasma that had hung over the area where they had found the mutilated warder. He turned back to the wall, attaching the fuse, making himself work carefully; there would be no time to try again.

Madeline stood, still looking into the sphere, and moved up with Crack and Reynard. Reynard glanced at her and said, "My dear, really-"

"Hush, I know what I'm doing," Madeline said, then added, "I haven't the faintest idea of what I'm doing, but this thing seems to."

Ronsarde struggled to his feet with Halle's help, saying, "That is one of Edouard Viller's famous, or infamous, magical spheres. I hadn't thought to ever see one in use."

"I rather hope we don't have to see it now," Halle said. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I'm almost finished." Nicholas unrolled the fuse then quickly packed up the remains of the materials, though he hoped they wouldn't need them again. Halle came to help him and to put the package back into his medical bag. As Nicholas stood to tell the others he was ready, he heard it.A scratching, like heavy nails against rock, accompanied by a sibilant hiss, echoed down the corridor.

Madeline and Reynard glanced at each other and Crack stood like a stone, pistol held ready, waiting for whatever was out there to charge.

It can't be very big, Nicholas thought, not and fit through these doors. It couldn't be as powerful as the last Sending either, or they would all surely be dead by now. Maybe that had hurt their sorcerous opponent, to loose that great store of magical power and have it snuffed out by the Great Spell that protected Madele's house. Whatever it was, they couldn't see it yet, but that didn't mean it wasn't near.

It had managed to kill at least several armed men so far. He unrolled the fuse, backing toward where the others were waiting, laying the cord out along the floor. This gave them about twenty feet of clearance.

He wasn't sure that would be enough, but moving any further up the corridor was out of the question.

Nicholas said, "I'm ready to set off the charge. When it goes off, the creature may come at us."

Leaning against the wall, Ronsarde said, "We've no choice."

"I'm aware of that," Nicholas said, managing to keep his voice mild and reaching for the candle.

Madeline shouted suddenly and Nicholas looked up to see the corridor ahead of them go dark, as if a wave of shadow was rolling down it. He lit the fuse and shouted, "Get down!"

The blast was a shock, louder than Nicholas had expected. He fell against the wall, ducking his head as his back was peppered with fragments of rock. He looked up to find himself blinded by dust and smoke and said, "Everyone all right?"

There were answering calls and some violent coughing.

Nicholas groped along the floor until he found the candle, blown out by the force of the explosion, then got to his feet. He shook his head, which did absolutely nothing for the ringing in his ears, and stumbled back toward the wall. Between the dust hanging in the heavy air and the darkness it was impossible to see and he had to feel along the wall for the opening. He tripped on a chunk of blasted stone and almost fell through the hole. It was at waist height, larger than he had expected; the stone hadn't been as thick as it had looked. Lucky I didn't bring the ceiling down on top of us. "Here!" he shouted.

As he got the candle lit again, the others managed to find him. They were all covered with brick dust, their faces smudged with smoke, and he supposed he looked as bad as they did.

Madeline was holding someone's handkerchief over her face, the sphere tucked securely under her arm. "It's not humming as loudly now," she reported. "The explosion must have frightened that thing."

"For the moment, at least," Nicholas agreed. The dust was settling, aided by the damp air from the sewer. He lifted the candle. Through the gaping rent in the wall he could see a wide tunnel with an arched roof, lined with uneven stone blocks. There were ledges along both sides and a stream of dark water running between. A stench rose off that water, striking him like a blow in the stomach. Ducking his head, he stepped through the hole.

Crack scrambled through after him, saying tersely, "Ghouls."

Nicholas tested his footing on the slimy stone. "I haven't seen any."

"Didn't see any last time, either."

There was a minor altercation occurring in the corridor, as Halle and Ronsarde tried to make Madeline go next and she protested, "No, I have the sphere, I should go last to cover our escape."

"Gentlemen, it is useless to argue with her," Nicholas told them grimly. He helped Ronsarde step through, then moved back to give Halle room on the ledge.

Reynard solved the Madeline problem by wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her bodilythrough the gap, then stepping through after her. "If you'd seen what it did in the alley," she was saying, "you'd realize what I mean. It reacts to the presence of magic- Good God, what a stink."

"Half the prison knows where we are now," Reynard reminded them. "Which way?"

"Here," Nicholas said, moving forward to pick a path along the ledge. The sewer was running roughly eastward, toward the river. He hoped they didn't have to go that far. They had only a short time before the constables followed the sound of the blast and swarmed down here after them. Two streets over would be as far as they could safely go. Fortunately it would be growing dark outside and with every other odd thing that had happened in this part of the city today, people climbing out of the sewer would not be that much to remark on.

"The sphere is humming again," Madeline said, breathless at the stink and the effort of walking on the slick stone in her long skirts. "That creature didn't stay frightened for long."

Wonderful, Nicholas thought. Perhaps it will stop and eat more constables. He didn't think that was likely; there was no question it was after them.

They kept moving, muffled curses marking occasional stumbles. The sewer was a long tunnel, vanishing into darkness a few feet in front of their candle, dissolving into it behind them as they moved along. Vienne had literally miles of sewers, some new and easily traversed by the sewermen in sluice carts or boats, others old and so choked by refuse as to be almost impassable even by water. They were lucky that this was one of the newly built tunnels.

The filthy air was making it hard to breathe, but Nicholas noted the odor of rats was growing stronger, though the sewer seemed strangely empty of the rodents. The ledge grew narrow in places and Nicholas caught Madeline's arm both to steady her and to reassure himself. Most of her attention was on the sphere.

The sphere's humming was getting louder; Nicholas could hear it now himself. Madeline was holding it nervously; she had taken off her gloves and her bare hands left traces of moisture on the stained metal surface. The rank, animal odor was more intense, combining with the effluvia of filth from the water below and making it difficult to draw a full breath. It was how intelligent the thing was that really mattered and how afraid it was of the sphere, Nicholas realized.

"How much further?" Madeline said. Her voice was thick.

"Just far enough," Nicholas told her. "It would be a shame after all this to come up within sight of the Prefecture or the prison gates."

Madeline laughed, a short gasp that turned into a choking cough. And if we manage to escape everything else that's after us, the stench may still kill us, Nicholas thought.

"Nic," Reynard said suddenly. "There's something behind us."

"Keep moving," Nicholas said. Looking back, he caught a glimpse of a shadow shifting in the blackness, something that might be a trick of the light and his imagination. He knew it was all too real.

They managed perhaps another fifty yards down the sewer, before Nicholas said, "We've come far enough." He had been counting paces and even given a generous margin of error, they should be at least two streets east of the prison by now. "Look for an outlet."

"Thank God," Reynard muttered from behind him. "I thought we were going all the way to the river."

"There's a ladder up here," Halle said. Nicholas peered into the dimness ahead, then suddenly caught sight of it himself.

Nicholas handed Halle the candle and stepped up beneath the ladder, which led upward to a round metal cover in the curved roof. It was a street access for the sewermen. "Reynard, would you makecertain we're in the right place?"

"The wrong place being the prison courtyard or the steps in front of the Magistrates Court, I presume." Reynard handed the rifle to Nicholas, then caught the lowest rung of the ladder and swung up it. Nicholas faced back the way they had come, the gunstock sweat-slick in his hands. He heard the heavy metal cover slide over, grating on stone, then muted daylight suddenly washed down through the tunnel. Nicholas thought he saw a form scramble back to the edge of shadow. He had the sudden conviction that it had changed, that it had taken a shape more suited to this fetid underground river.

"Hurry," he suggested from between gritted teeth.

"It's Graci Street," Reynard said from above. "Come on!" Halle came forward, half-supporting Ronsarde, and Nicholas realized the Inspector was in far worse case than he had been before. In the wan daylight his face was gray and he was gasping for breath. He's old, Nicholas thought suddenly. He wasn't a young man when Edouard died, but I didn't realize how old. . . . Halle climbed far enough to hand his medical bag up to Reynard, then reached down to pull Ronsarde up the ladder, apparently on strength of will alone. It was going to be slow. Nicholas told Crack, "Help them."

Crack hesitated and Nicholas gave him a push. "Go, dammit, help them." Crack pocketed his pistol and gave Ronsarde a boost from behind, climbing up after him.

Nicholas looked back down the sewer. The darkness was pressing close, a palpable barrier. He swallowed in a dry throat. The next few moments would make all the difference.

Crack was through the opening now and looking anxiously down at them. Staring into the sphere, Madeline said tensely, "Go on." Nicholas caught her arm. "Madeline, I'm not going to argue with you-"

The darkness surged forward, blotting out the fading daylight from the opening overhead just as a burst of white light flared with the strength of a bomb blast. Madeline cried out and they both fell back against the slick wall.

It took long moments for Nicholas's vision to adjust to the dimness again, to be able to see anything beyond the spots of brilliance swimming in front of his eyes. The light from the opening overhead showed him nothing but empty ledges, the water below, the brick-lined tunnel leading off into the dark. But he could see further than he had before and there was nothing moving in those shadows but the flow of the stream. The others were shouting down from above, demanding to know what had happened.

Madeline pushed herself away from the wall and made a futile effort to brush at the stains on her dress. The sphere she was still holding carefully in the crook of her arm was silent. "I told you so," she said, preoccupied. "Edouard built it for this, after all." She caught the rung of the ladder and swung up easily, one-handed.

I'm beginning to believe he did, Nicholas thought, and slung the rifle over his shoulder to climb after her.

Chapter Fourteen.

It was full dark by the time they reached the warehouse but Nicholas only meant to stop there temporarily. The small offices there were fairly comfortless and he wanted to avoid Coldcourt and every other place that Octave might have some knowledge of. So after greetings and exclamations of relief from Cusard and Lamane, he bundled everyone into Cusard's wagon and directed him to a safehouse they had had some occasion to use in the past, an apartment on the third floor of a small limestone-facedtenement near the Boulevard Panzan. There was no concierge to ask awkward questions and few other tenants.

The wagon pulled into the carriage alley between the buildings and Nicholas climbed down to unlock the side door. The small lobby was dusty and undisturbed, but he sent Crack up to make sure the stairs were clear anyway.

Madeline swung down from the wagonboard and climbed the stoop to stand next to him. Her hair was in wild disarray and she looked exhausted. She said, "Ronsarde doesn't look well. We're lucky Halle is here."

"I suppose." Leaning against the ornamental iron railing around the stoop, Nicholas rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head was still pounding from the explosion and standing still for a moment had made him realize how very badly he needed a bath and a change of clothing. And to fall down on a bed for a week.

To fall down on a bed for a week with Madeline would have been even better. "This day is not going quite as I had originally planned."

"Quite." Madeline's expression was wry.

"Thank you for saving our lives."

Her mouth twisted. "You're welcome, I suppose."

Before Nicholas could question that comment, Crack appeared in the darkened hall and gestured for them to come up.

Nicholas went first to unlock the door and briefly check the apartment. It was a modest town residence with a salon and parlor, dining room, bedchamber and dressing room, maid's room and kitchen. The air was stale and dusty and the windows were covered with thick draperies and shades, the furniture concealed under dust covers. He went through the small kitchen to check the back door, which gave on to an outer wooden stair that led down into a narrow alley next to the building's court; that and the small trapdoor in the pantry that allowed access to the roof were the chief reasons he had originally selected the place. After reassuring himself that all the outer doors and windows were securely locked and showed no signs of tampering, he returned to the front door and called softly for the others to come up.

He stepped back as Reynard and Doctor Halle helped Inspector Ronsarde inside. "Take him to the salon," Nicholas said, opening one of the doors off the small bare foyer. "There's a couch and the lamps are better."

Nicholas went down the hall and back to the kitchen, to lean against one of the cold stone counters and try to get his thoughts in order. He heard Crack rummaging in the pantry for the coal store, Madeline's voice giving instructions, the others tramping about.

Finally Madeline came in, eyed him a moment, then leaned against the china closet and said, "Well?"

Nicholas took in her appearance thoughtfully. "You look like a charwoman. I don't suppose there are any roles at the Elegante next season which require that?"

"Thank you," Madeline said, inclining her head graciously. "I shall certainly keep it in mind." Her expression turned serious. "I gave my word to Halle, you know."

"Is that what this is about?" Nicholas couldn't quite manage to laugh. "They are the least of our worries."

Madeline hesitated. "This sorcerer. ..."

"Is determined to kill all of us, true, but that's not what I was thinking of. Donatien is dead, Madeline.

It's over."At the mention of the name, Madeline glanced reflexively at the closed door. "But they don't know-"

"I suspect Ronsarde does know. Whether he will act on that knowledge or not, I have no idea. After we saved his life, I think not. And he still needs our help."

She was silent a moment. "So it's over."

"Yes."

She looked away, as if she couldn't quite believe it. "Is that such a bad thing?"