“Your Graces.” The chamberlain stood before them. “If you will follow me.”
The chamberlain led them down the hallway, advancing several steps before them, his staff of office striking the rock floor with a ringing sound at about every five paces. Alfred followed, extraordinarily confused, wondering why they were taking time out of a desperate attempt to free an imprisoned prince’s corpse to pay a royal visit. He might have asked Jonathan, who was beside him, but the slightest sound seemed to reverberate through the hallway, and he was fearful of the chamberlain overhearing.
Alfred’s confusion grew. He had assumed they were going to the royal family’s quarters. But they left the sumptuous, beautifully decorated halls far behind. The corridor they walked was narrow, winding, and began to dip downward. The gas lamps were infrequently spaced and soon ended altogether; the darkness was deep and heavy, tainted strongly with the smells of decay and must.
The chamberlain spoke a rune and a light gleamed on the top of his staff, but it merely guided the way. The light did little to aid their steps. Fortunately, the rock floor was smooth and unobstructed and they traversed it without undue difficulty, not counting Alfred, who fell over a minuscule crack in the floor and landed flat on his face.
“I’m quite all right. Please, don’t bother,” he protested. Nose pressed against the floor, he happened to get a very close look at the base of the rock walls.
Rune markings. Alfred blinked, stared, his thoughts going back to the mausoleum, to the underground tunnel built by his people far beneath the Geg’s realm of Drevlin on Arianus, to the rune markings that ran along the tunnel floors and, when activated by the proper magic, became small, lighted guides through the darkness. In Arianus, the tunnels had been kept in good repair, the rune markings were easy to see for those with eyes to see them. On Abarrach, the sigla were faded, some obscured by dirt, in a few places completely obliterated. They had not been used in a long time. Perhaps their use had been completely forgotten.
“My dear sir, are you injured?” The chamberlain was coming back to check on him.
“Get up!” Tomas hissed. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Uh, nothing. I’m fine.” Alfred clambered to his feet. “Th-thank you.”
The tunnel wound around, was met by other runnels, was intersected by other tunnels, flowed through and over and under and into other tunnels. Each tunnel looked exactly like every other tunnel. Alfred was completely confused and disoriented, and he marveled at the chamberlain, who moved through the maze without hesitation.
Finding the way would have been easy, if the chamberlain had been reading the guide-runes on the floor, but he never so much as glanced in their direction. Alfred couldn’t see them in the dark and he dared not call attention to himself by activating their magic, and so he stumbled on ahead blindly, knowing only that they were moving downward, ever downward, and thinking that this was a very odd place for the Queen Mother to keep her parlor.
CHAPTER * 32
THE CATACOMBS, ABARRACH
THE SLOPING FLOOR GREW MORE LEVEL, GAS LAMPS REAPPEARED, gleaming yellow in the darkness. Alfred heard Jera’s breathing quicken slightly in excitement. He felt Jonathan’s body tense. Tomas, passing beneath a gas lamp, appeared almost as livid as one of the corpses. Alfred judged by these signs that they were nearing their goal. His heart fluttered, his hands shook, and he banished the comforting thought of fainting firmly from his mind.
The chamberlain brought them to a halt with an imperious gesture of his staff. “Please wait here. You will be announced.” He moved off, calling, “Preserver! Visitors for the Queen Mother.”
“Where are we?” Alfred took advantage of the moment to whisper to Jonathan.
“In the catacombs!” Jonathan answered, eyes glittering with fun and excitement.
“What?” Alfred was amazed. “The catacombs? Where Haplo and the prince—”
“Yes, yes!” Jera murmured.
“We told you it would be simple,” Jonathan added.
Tomas, Alfred noticed, said nothing, but stood off to one side, keeping in the shadows, out of the light of the gas lamps.
“Of course, we’ll have to go through with this farce of visiting the Queen Mother,” Jera whispered, peering impatiently into the catacombs for some sign of the chamberlain. “I wonder where he’s gone off to?”