He took the stairs slowly, and regarded the purely physical barrier. “Tashir,” he began.

The boy looked at him in startlement.

“Young friend, this is where you see how useful that Gift of yours is. My strong suit is not Fetching, and I've only seen this door once, remember.” Vanyel folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “I also distinctly recall that I barred the door behind Lores. You surely remember what the door and bar look like, and your Gift is Fetching. Let's see you raise that bar.”

“But -” Tashir began to protest. Savil looked as if she might object as well, but Vanyel silenced her with a look.

“Do it, Tashir. You're better at this than I am.”

The young man took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took a wide-legged stance in what may have been an unconscious imitation of the one Vanyel had taken, and frowned.

Vanyel had been giving him what rudimentary instruction he could, when he could. It wasn't much. But as Vanyel had half suspected, away from the disapproval of his family and into an environment in which “magic” was actually encouraged, he'd begun practicing, probably in an attempt to get his rogue Gift under some kind of conscious control. All of them could clearly hear the grate of the bar in its sockets on the other side of the closed metal-sheathed door; Jervis clapped Tashir on the back, startling him, as the door creaked open a thumbs'-breadth.

Vanyel did the same, a bit more gently. Tashir grinned at both of them, teeth flashing whitely in the first of the moonlight. “Good work, young man,” Vanyel congratulated him. “Now let's get ourselves under cover before somebody curious comes by.”

Savil was already pushing the door open; the rest of them followed her into the absolute darkness of the entry hall. She waited until Vanyel had closed the door and rebarred it before fashioning a mage-light and sending it upward to dance and flare above her head.

“Gods!” she hissed, shocked at the extent of the wreckage in the next room.

Jervis moved past her to stand at the top of the stairs, shaking his head. “I've seen wars and looters that weren't this thorough. What'n hell did that?”

Vanyel glanced over at Tashir, who had lost his expression of triumph and had become very pale. His eyes were shadowed; his expression haunted. Vanyel put his hand lightly on the youngster's shoulder in encouragement, and felt him tremble.

Savil joined Jervis, oblivious to Tashir's distress, walking very slowly. “I can tell you what didn't,'' she said, unexpectedly. '' Tashir.'' The youngster jerked in startlement. “You're sure?” Vanyel asked softly, feeling a tense core inside him go limp with relief. He really hadn't believed it was the boy, but still. , . .

“Positive. You get under the glare of the node-energy, and this place is dusted all over with magic.” She closed her eyes, and reached out her hand as if to touch something. “There's a very old spell tied to the node that's rooted somewhere just ahead of us. But there's a second spell overlaid on the walls themselves, and that's what caused this mess. Van, let me handle that one; it's a trap-spell, and I'd rather you didn't trigger it.”

“I'll second that. You're much better with set-spells than I am. Tashir, Jervis, did you understand that?”

Jervis nodded.

Tashir looked both frightened and hopeful. “She said that there was a magic spell on the palace that - did all this? But why does that eliminate me?”

“Because you haven't even Mage-potential. Your Gift isn't magic, as we use the term. Real magic leaves traces of itself behind, like the dust a moth's wings leave on your hands when you catch it. You couldn't have done something that would leave those traces; you're not capable of it; for you, manipulating mage-energies would be like trying to carry water in a bucket with no bottom.”

“And that's good enough evidence for Valdemar,” Jervis put in. “Trouble is, I'd bet it ain't good enough evidence for Lineas.”

Tashir's face fell. “That's only too true,” he said, crestfallen.

“So our job is to find good enough evidence for Lineas.” Vanyel took on unconscious authority. “First off, let's clean out one of the smaller chambers and set up living quarters. Then we'll get some sleep; we'll be better off working by daylight.''

Savil dropped out of her half-trance and rejoined them. “I agree. I don't want to tackle anything that tricky without a full night's sleep. Tashir, this was your home; what would be the best place for us to set up where we aren't likely to be seen or disturbed?'' She shivered in a sudden chilly draft. “And where we can build a fire; I don't fancy freezing to death in my sleep, and there's a winter bite to the air at night.”

Tashir looked about; although he had lost some of his apprehension, there was still fear and great unhappiness in him that Vanyel could Sense without effort. Small wonder. Everyone he ever knew died here.

“The kitchen, I think,” Tashir replied. “And there wouldn't have been anybody back there when -” He shuddered, and not from the cold.

“Another thing to consider,” Vanyel said gravely. “We're all likely to come on some very grisly relics, and of us all, Tashir is the least used to such things. Tashir, don't go off alone. Stay with one of us; Jervis, by preference. If at any time this gets too much for you, just go straight back to the kitchen until you get yourself settled again. I do want you to try and remember what happened that night. I don't want a repetition of what you did in Mother's bower. It's not that I think you'll hurt anybody because I know you won't.” He managed a little smile of encouragement. “It's that you'll be noisy, lad. There's not supposed to be anybody here. I'm sure Vedric has figured it out, but he might not dare act on his knowledge just yet. We want to keep him from having reasons. We don't need someone sending for your Uncle Vedric to lay the ghosts, now, do we?”

Tashir paled, and Vanyel was immediately sorry he'd mentioned either ghosts or Vedric. The youngster shook his head wordlessly.

“All right, then let's get to the first stage.” He shouldered his pack; the others did the same. “Tashir, it's up to you. Find us that kitchen.”

Thirteen

None of them slept particularly well. The first light of dawn saw three of the four lying open-eyed and tense on their sleeping mats; held prisoner by cold, nebulous fears, and waiting for someone else to make a sound that indicated rising. Vanyel was actually the last to claw his way out of uneasy half-dreams, which wasn't surprising, considering how exhausted he was. He felt the wakefulness around him after a confused moment or two and made a mage-light without thinking. Three gasps of startlement answered the first flare of the light; three pairs of eyes reflected blue flickers back at him.

“If you were all awake,” he said, still sleep-mazed and confused, “why didn't you just get up?”

He told Jervis later that - on reflection - he was surprised no one killed him for that question.

There were still usable supplies in the kitchen; dried, salted, or otherwise preserved, and the kitchen had its own pump and well, which solved the problem of where they were going to get water. Trying to ignore the nagging thought that they were robbing the dead, Vanyel helped Jervis cobble together a tolerable meal of bacon, tea, and biscuits.

They sat on folded blankets beside the hearth to eat it; the windowless kitchen was dark, and it somehow echoed more than it should. Even Jervis was affected by the somber atmosphere, casting surreptitious glances over his shoulder at the shadows behind him.

“I think we're going to have to divide our attentions,” Vanyel said quietly, as they sipped their tea from an assortment of whatever containers had come to hand. “Does anyone object to my taking charge?” He waited, but no one said anything. “Fine. Savil, I'd like you to look into the trap-spell; find out what it does, or did, if you can. And how it was set here in the first place. Jervis, Tashir, I'd like you two to start going over the palace, room by room. Jervis, you've been in and out of highborn homes for a good part of your life; you know what belongs and what doesn't. I want you to look for anything that seems odd or out of place. Tashir, you're to try and trigger your memory of that night. While you're both at it, we need candles down here, and a bit more in the way of blankets and bedding would be nice.”