Malkin looked at him as if he were simple. “As long as it takes, of course.”
Behind them they could hear a faint scrabbling and shirting as the bugs worked to clear the tunnel.
“We may not have that long. We’re gonna have to cut our way through this one.”
“Stand aside, Wizard,” Glandurg said. “It is time for Blind Fury to sing.”
That wasn’t what Wiz had in mind, but Glandurg had already unsheathed the gleaming blade and was waving it above his head. Obviously something—or someone— was about to get cut and on quick reflection Wiz decided it would be better for everyone if it was the door. He motioned the others back and stepped well clear himself.
Malkin indicated a spot on the wall to the right of the door. “Aim here.” Then she joined the group well behind the dwarf and out of range.
Glandurg nodded, raised the sword over his head and brought it down with a mighty blow. Naturally he missed completely. Instead of striking the rock wall, he hit the door along the hinge line, shearing wood and hinges from shoulder height to floor. The door, not made to withstand such an attack, simply collapsed into a pile of boards.
“Missed,” the dwarf said sheepishly.
‘That’s all right,” Wiz told him as Malkin winked at him over Glandurg’s head. Then she stepped through the doorway and into the room beyond. As soon as they were through a couple of quick blasts from Wiz’s staff collapsed a hundred yards of tunnel.
Danny was looking down the tunnel after the dwarf. Then he caught Wiz’s arm as Wiz came past. “Wiz,” he whispered, “you’re sure he’s on our side, right? I mean you checked out his credentials and everything?”
“He thinks he’s on our side,” Wiz whispered back. Then he hurried on, leaving Danny puzzled in his wake.
Even a small dragon was an uncomfortable fit in the Watchers’ chamber. The sunken floor was crammed with stations for those who used their scrying skills to see far beyond the borders of the Capital or to communicate across the length and breadth of the lands of mortals. The tables were wood, the men and women sitting one or two to a table wore the robes of wizards and they stared at crystals or bowls. There was barely space between them for humans to move, much less a dragon. Nor was the raised platform that ran around three sides of the room really large enough for a beast the size of Moira’s new body to be comfortable.
Moira grimly ignored that, even when a hurrying Watcher tripped over her tail. She and Bal-Simba had come for a more important purpose.
“And they still have not reported in?” Bal-Simba asked the Chief Watcher.
“As I said, My Lord.”
“Have you tried to contact them?”
“I felt it was best to ask your advice before doing so.”
Then do so now. Tell them to return. We can still bring them back along the Wizard’s Way, but if this thing continues to grow we will not be able to do so for much longer.”
The Chief Watcher spoke a spell and two dozen demons appeared in the air before him. He spoke again and the demons began to speak, each but a fraction of a syllable before the next took up the message.
There is nothing, Lord.”
Bal-Simba frowned mightily. “Perhaps the new crystals are not working,” Moira said.
“Perhaps,” the Watcher said neutrally.
Try to reach them,” the wizard commanded. “See if you can get a reply. If you cannot reach them on the special crystal, try other means. If you cannot reach them, convene a coven of wizards and pull them back unawares.”
The Watcher nodded and turned back to his work, trying to ignore the scaly nose thrust over his shoulder.
The Watcher was still bent over the crystal when Bronwyn came hurrying into the Watch chamber.
“My Lord, My Lady, you had best come. Jerry is stirring. I think he may be awake.”
Jerry Andrews was tossing restlessly on the infirmary pallet when they arrived. Two of Bronwyn’s apprentices were beside him, bathing his brow and keeping him from falling out. They looked up and withdrew slightly as Bronwyn led the others in.