The Traitor Queen (The Traitor Spy Trilogy #3)(98)

As he carried the first tube to Gol, he noticed a fine stream of dust leaking from a fold in the paper at one end.

“It’s broken. Is that bad?”

Gol turned and his eyes widened. “Hold it so the hole’s at the top,” he said urgently.

Cery did so and the leak stopped. “Is it that dangerous?”

“Yes.” Gol’s expression was serious. “Get too much of this floating in the air, a candle or lamp could set it off.” He looked down at the tube, then tipped a little powder into his palm before stuffing it into the wall. “I’ll show you. Take a candle out into the passage and put it down about twenty paces away.”

No more than a pinch of the dust lay in Gol’s hand. Cery picked up a burning candle and took it out of the room, setting it down in the passage. Gol beckoned, then shooed Cery behind him. “You’d better cover your ears.”

Cery did as Gol advised.

“Watch this.”

He gathered the powder between two fingers, dashed forward and threw it at the candle. A flash of light dazzled Cery’s eyes, and at the same time a sound like a very large hand slapping a table echoed in the passage. Dust and dirt trickled and puffed out of the walls near the candle, which was suddenly much shorter and surrounded by a molten pool of wax.

Cery removed his hands. That, from just a pinch. And we have a lot more of it in those tubes.

“Are you sure you want to put that many tubes in the wall?”

Gol shrugged. “Gotta put it somewhere. Safer if it’s in the wall, than in the room with us.”

Of course. Even if we leave it in the fruit bowl, it could still go off when the rest does. Better it fries the inside of a wall than us. “How long do the delay strips take to burn?”

“A count to twenty.” Gol retrieved the candle, gave it to Cery and moved back into the room. “If we don’t have enough time, we might get away with only lighting one on each side. When it goes it should set the others off.”

“So we each light one, then run.”

Gol frowned. “Is that Anyi coming back already?”

Cery listened. As he heard the faint sound of footsteps he hurried over to the fruit box and placed the sacking and fruit over the tubes again, while Gol hid his drilling tools. Just in case it wasn’t Anyi, they kept hold of their candles. A moment later a low whistle echoed quietly in the passage and they relaxed.

Cery whistled back and a moment later Anyi hurried inside clutching her lamp. He realised that he’d assumed she was further away because her steps had been so faint. As she saw them, she let out a quick breath.

“One of the walls has collapsed near Lilia’s barrier. Or it was broken. Whatever the reason, there’s now another way to get through to here without breaking her barrier.”

Cery’s heart skipped a beat. “Any tracks?”

Her shoulders lifted. “I couldn’t see. I shuttered the lamp so they wouldn’t notice the light and came straight here. I didn’t hear anything, though.”

Cery looked at Gol. His bodyguard stared back, his face full of concern.

“I think you should get Lilia,” Gol said.

“She’ll be in class. I can’t just—”

“Go to Sonea’s room,” Cery said firmly. “Tell Jonna to fetch Lilia.”

“You should come with me. Hide in Sonea’s room.”

“If we hear anything, we’ll follow you,” Cery told her. “Now go.”

She paused, biting her lip, then hurried away. Gol didn’t even wait until her footsteps had faded. He dove for the drill and all but attacked the wall with it. Cery tipped the fruit out of the box and carried it over to his friend. Four more tubes of minefire lay in the base. Gol’s words repeated in his mind even as he listened, straining his ears, for any sound in the passages.

“Safer if it’s in the wall, than in the room with us.”

He wasn’t sure if his heart was racing more from anticipation or fear. Was Skellin approaching? Would they get to spring their trap at last? Would it create a big hole in the Gardens and expose the Rogue to the Guild, as they’d planned? Or would Skellin, not expecting the blast, die?

Whatever happens, at least Anyi is out of the way. I have no intention of dying along with Skellin, but the fewer of us around the less chance that one of us will be hurt.





CHAPTER 22


AN OLD ENEMY


Squinting at the dark smudge on the road ahead, Lorkin wasn’t able to make out much more than the impression of movement. Looks like a group of people on horseback. He glanced at Savara. The queen’s attention was on the road so she could not have missed them, yet she did not look concerned.

He turned to Tyvara, riding beside him, catching her shifting her weight in the saddle and grimacing. Seeing him notice, she smiled. “Only been a few hours and I’m chafing already.”

Ex-slaves had given them horses at one of the estates they’d freed that morning. “Freed” simply meant walking in and executing the Ashaki owners and his magician brethren. Often the men had no more warning of an imminent attack than their slaves suddenly disappearing. Though they all put up a fight, most of them obviously weren’t in the habit of keeping their store of magic well boosted. Why would they? They’re not Ichani, constantly under threat from other black magicians. They probably only stock up on power when they need it for a particular task. It made their death seem less like casualties of war. More like murders.