“Most probably,” Shiara agreed. “It also means the loss of all the knowledge here. I do not want to do that unless I have to. But Cormac, we cannot allow what is here to fall to the wrong person. Even a hedge wizard could rise to bestride the World with what is in this place.”
Cormac sighed. “Do as you think best, Light.”
She nodded. “I think with the right spell I can destroy all of this at once.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“Earth magic. The forces are finely balanced here. They can be upset with but little effort—well, little enough in terms of the results. I believe I can fashion a spell to turn the magic against itself and so unbalance the flow.”
“Earth magics are hardly a specialty of the Mighty,” Cormac pointed out.
“Earth magics are uncontrollable. But all we want is destruction. It should be an easy matter to take the top of this mountain off.”
“And take us up with it?”
“No. I will set the spell in motion through a counting demon. We will have time to get away.”
Again Shiara knelt with her bag and set to work. She had nearly finished the spell when Cormac came over to her. He waited at a respectful distance until she paused.
“You know, Light, I have been thinking.”
“And?”
“Well, curse my suspicious nature, but it occurs to me there may be more here than we see. We know that none of the visible things is the key to this pile of magical jackstraws, but did it occur to you that there might be something here that is not visible?”
“Cormac, you are brilliant! Of course the final key would be hidden! Why did I not think of that?”
“Because you’re an honest thief, lass,” Cormac grinned. “Now myself, I’m a bit of a rogue.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “You are that.”
He looked around the room. “Now if I were a master sorcerer with a secret to hide, where would I hide it?”
“Someplace close, I think,” Shiara said, looking around the great room. Either in this room or in a room off it.” She started toward one wall and then stopped.
“Cormac, I want you to examine the room carefully for anything strange or unusual.”
“In this place? Fortuna! But what will you be doing?”
“I am going to finish my spell.” She bit her lower lip. “Even once we find the key we may not want to use it. And I wish to finish this business and be away quickly.”
“As you will, Light.” He moved off.
“And Cormac, touch nothing!”
Again the grin. “Since it’s you who ask, Light.”
While Cormac searched, Shiara concentrated on completing her spell. She forced herself to think only of the technical aspects, blocking out the unease that almost stifled her. Only when the spell was complete and primed and her counting demon duly instructed did she look up.
“Have you found anything?” she called to Cormac across the gloomy expanse of the hall.
“Nothing I care to think overmuch on,” he called, crossing the black-and-green floor. “The place is strangely proportioned, these pedestals seem strewn about at random and the pattern on this miserable floor makes my eyes ache.” He looked down at the patterned marble at his feet.
“The floor,” Shiara said reflectively. “Yes.” She looked up. “There may be a message here.” She stepped back to the entrance and looked out over the elaborate pattern formed by the squares of marble that floored the hall.
From the door the tiles made the floor seem to sweep away in a roller-coaster perspective, tilting and writhing off into the distance. There seemed to be no horizon line and no point of perspective save madness in the bizarre geometry of the tiles. And yet. . . .
“Cormac, walk out that way,” she said pointing toward one corner of the hall. The swordsman followed her pointing finger. “A little further. Now stop.” Inexorably the pattern seemed to pull him to the right. It was somehow wrong to move to the left at that point.
“Now go left,” she commanded. Cormac dubiously obeyed. “Further left. No, don’t look down at the floor! Don’t close your eyes. Just keep to your left.” With his gaze locked at the shoulder level Cormac moved more to his left and off into the gloom.