ancient facings had fallen in, things stuck, each piece catching and trapping
more until even the force of the water could not move it forward and it recoiled
back into Sanctuary.
Rising waters from the sewer that ran beneath the Maze backed up and overflowed
into one of the tunnels leading from the Palace grounds. At the same time,
rising river water found an outlet in the escape tunnel that ended near the
ford. These waters, meeting, clashed and rose. Some of the overflow splashed
into the catacombs beneath the Street of Red Lanterns, but not all, and so, as
the day wore on, water began to trickle slowly and inexorably up the tunnel
whose entrance was in the basement of the Palace itself.
Water seeped into the dungeons unnoticed except by those few unfortunates who
were still imprisoned there. But when it made its way into the portions of the
lower Palace that had been remodeled into a nursery for the Child of the Temple,
Gyskouras, and Arton and their companions, it was another matter. A storm
impelled by alien magics and a flood in their own chambers was not only a threat
but an insult as well.
Gyskouras screamed. Arton, face darkening as his own daemon sprang to life
within him, screamed louder. The other children who enjoyed the dubious honor of
being their companions wept or cowered. Alfi lost completely the edge of
superiority that two years’ seniority should have given him and clung like a
leech to Vanda, while Latilla covered her face with her hands and closed up her
fingers each time the noise level rose again.