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.Edward had fallen through a wall wasn’t a wall and he did his best to convince himself of the illusion.But he could see the firelight gleaming off stone and if he put out his hand, he’d be able to feel the rock.“You were the one in a hurry,” Draconas reminded him impatiently.“You’d better mark the place where you entered the illusion.The opening is not very big and it is surrounded by solid rock.I can’t have you bashing in your head.Here, take this with you.”A blazing torch sailed through the solid rock wall, landed on the floor in front of Edward.“This is not possible,” said Edward.“By all the laws of science, this is not possible.I’d think I was going mad, but my jaw hurts like hell.”He gave his aching jaw another rub, then removed one of his gloves and placed it at the base of the wall, near the torch.“Can you see that?” he asked doubtfully.“Is that in the right place?”“Your glove? I can see it.Good idea.If you need help, give a shout.Otherwise, I’ll be here waiting for you.”“Why don’t you come with me?” Edward asked, picking up the flaring torch.“This is our only way out,” Draconas returned.“I think it would be wise if one of us stayed to guard it.”“Ah, yes,” said Edward.“Of course.” But he didn’t believe him.Edward wanted to trust Draconas, for he liked and admired the man.He couldn’t, however.A king who wants to be a good king should be a keen observer of his fellow men, learning to read them as a sailor reads the subtle signs of sea and sky, to know when storms are brewing or when the wind will rise or switch direction or if there are shoals on which he might run aground.Draconas’s waters were calm and placid, but Edward saw secrets hidden in their depths.All men have secrets including Edward, but he had the feeling that the the secrets of Draconas were not the ordinary secrets of ordinary men.Draconas knew that Edward didn’t trust him and, oddly, Edward understood that in some strange way, he had risen in his companion’s estimation because of it.Clapping his hand over his sword to make certain he’d not lost it in the fall, Edward walked across the room, heading for the open door that stood directly across from him.He couldn’t make out what lay beyond that door, but he assumed it must be another room or a corridor.He moved rapidly, for he had wasted time back there at the wall, casting a curious glance around the room as he passed through it.The marble altar at the far end was certainly impressive.The dragon carvings had been done by a master, seemingly, for every scale of a thousand, thousand scales had been carefully delineated.By contrast, the carving of the Eye on the floor looked rustic and crude.He noted the worn prayer rugs, arranged in a circle around the Eye, and a thrill shivered up the base of his spine.“This is where they work the magic,” Edward said to himself.“Magic that is a tool of the devil, reviled by God.Magic that fools the senses, makes us distrust ourselves.I can see why we are warned against it.”The idea was unsettling and, despite his pressing need for haste, Edward’s steps slowed.He had grown up in the church and, though he considered himself a man of science, he was also a man of faith.He had no difficulty reconciling the two, as did some of his generation, for no matter how much science managed to explain, it could never provide him with the why, the how.God was always somewhere in every equation.Edward had felt certain that God was with him on this holy quest, but now he had the unnerving feeling that he had left God waiting in the antechamber.The illusion of the wall, the stone altar, with its dragon’s Eye, whose stony pupil seemed aware of him, were the stuff of dreams, and dreams were the unsavory, outlandish cavortings of the mind escaping nightly from civilization’s safe prison house.Edward thought of this Mistress that he was going to save.He saw in his mind’s eye the beautiful face and he remembered the stories of the priest who told tales of the pleasing shapes the Evil One could assume in order to lure man to his soul’s destruction.One could roll one’s eyes at that when seated safely in one’s pew, but here, in the perfumed firelight, being watched by that stone Eye, his stomach shriveled and his mouth went dry.Edward hesitated, but only for a moment.The rational, scientific part of him struck him on his mental jaw, much as Draconas had struck him on his real jaw, and knocked the terrors of the nursery out of his head.There were terrors here, but one was a murderer and, if that involved the Evil One at all, it was the evil that dwelt within men’s hearts.Swiftly, but not heedlessly, Edward passed through the open doorway and entered a corridor of rough-hewn stone.Ahead of him was a stone staircase.He took the stairs several at a time, and came to a door at the top.This door was closed.Edward placed the torch in an iron sconce on the wall, to have both hands free, then studied the door, noting that it opened inward.He was pleased and rather surprised to find it was not locked nor barred in any way.If Draconas had been there, he could have told the king that in places where there is magic, padlocks and keys are not necessary, but Edward had no knowledge of this.He put his hand upon the handle, which was of wrought iron twisted into the shape of a dragon, and gave the door a gentle tug.Opening it a crack, he peered out into a hallway and some part of him sighed in relief.Here was not more dream-stuff.Here was civilization: polished marble floors, wood-paneled walls, oiled rosewood and ebony furniture.Torchlight gleamed off the shimmering thread of a fine tapestry hanging on the wall directly opposite.Looking up, he met a dragon’s eyes looking down at him—the painted eyes of a painted face of a painted dragon, an image in an elaborate mural.The hallway was dark and it was empty.Edward stepped cautiously into the shadows, keeping the door open, and wondered which way he should go.To his right, darkness.To his left, not very far from where he was standing, faint light shone from an open door, casting a warm reflection on the cold marble.He heard breathing—the rasping, shallow breathing of one who is either very old or very ill, and he smelled the fetid air of the sickroom.Edward listened intently, but could catch no other scent, hear no other sound.That room and the person in that room would at least be his starting point.Reaching down to his belt, Edward removed his knife and wedged it firmly between the door and the door jamb, propping the door open.This would not only keep the door from shutting and perhaps locking, but it would also provide him with a strip of light to mark his way back.Keeping close to the wall, he padded soft-footed down the hallway.The light’s soft glow spilled into the hall, unbroken by any shadow.The labored breathing continued without pause.The night was quiet, except for a drumming sound that Edward eventually recognized as rain beating on the roof [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]