Varia frowned, puzzled.

"Kurqosz and his circle will have another one," he went on. "Probably bigger; the one he had in Bavaria was big as an egg. I'm going to steal it, and the first chance I get, I'll smash it too. Without it they can't cook up any major sorceries, and judging from the screams, it'll lay them out."

"I don't understand," she said.

"His younger brother Chithqosz is here, with his crystal circle. I followed them; it's how I got in. And the crystal I had… The dead voitu must have been one of them. And each of them would have part of his essence in it."

Her expression told him he'd thoroughly confused her. "I'll explain later," he said. "I need to move fast, before they get back. Which is the storeroom?"

Mentally she counted doors, then told him.

"Is there a candle I can take? Preferably one with a holder."

She took one from a shelf.

"Look, I'll be back in a little while. Be ready to leave." He took her arms with his hands. "We're going to get out of here, and everything's going to be fine. But now I need you to open the door and step into the hall. Get the guard's attention so I can get out. And keep it long enough for me to get to the storeroom. I'll use a concealment spell."

She nodded soberly. Macurdy drew his belt knife, just in case. "Let's do it then," he said.

She went to the door, opened it wide, and stepped half out, clearing it for Macurdy. There was no guard at her door, but the guard down the hall fixed her with his eyes.

She sensed Curtis move out behind her, and called just loudly enough that the guard could hear. "Did His Majesty say how long he'd be gone?"

The rakutu scowled, saying nothing. She stood as if waiting for an answer, giving Macurdy time to get into the storeroom. Then she went back inside.

After closing the door quietly behind him, Macurdy lit the candle with his finger. The storeroom was long and narrow, with deep shelves on each side. He was surprised it wasn't fuller.

The trapdoor was large, and near the front of the room. A crude ladder leaned against the back wall. Snooping by candle light, the nearest thing he found to a rope was a long narrow drape, like those covering the balcony door. He put the candle on a top shelf, near the trapdoor. It occurred to him that what he had to do would be a lot easier without his coat and hauberk, so he took them off. Then he got the ladder, leaned it against the trapdoor opening, climbed a few rungs and pushed open the trapdoor. Next he put drape, coat and hauberk into the loft.

That done, he put the ladder back; leaving it under the trapdoor would invite trouble. The shelves were strongly built. Using them as a ladder, he reached sideways, got the fingers of one hand over the edge of the opening, and swung free. Then using both hands, he pulled himself up. It never occurred to him how few men, especially large men, could have done what he just had. Before he closed the trapdoor behind him, he reached out and got the candle.

The loft was a single room as long as the building, with a rough plank floor and no ceiling. Locating a joist by the nail heads in the planks, he followed it to the end, leaving tracks in the dust. A little beneath the ridge-beam was a small unglazed window with a louvered shutter, installed to ventilate the loft in summer. A ladder built onto the end wall gave access to it. Setting the candle aside, he climbed the ladder, opened the shutter, and looked out. This was the east end of the house; the other buildings were to the west. There seemed little likelihood he'd be seen, unless from the road.

He looked downward, and examined the outer wall. There was a vault-shaped roof a dozen feet beneath him, like that of the master bedroom's balcony.

The problems, as he saw them, were to get safely down onto the balcony roof, and from the roof get onto the balcony itself. And from there into Kurqosz's office. There were other uncertainties: Was there a guard in the office who might kill him or raise an alarm? Might the rakutu outside the door hear him? Was the crystal even there? But those weren't problems. There was nothing he could do about them. Or about leaving the drape hanging down the outside of the house, like a flag shouting "something is seriously wrong here!"

Climbing back down the ladder, he got the drape. His hauberk he left where it was; it promised to be too cumbersome for things he had to do. He thought about abandoning his coat for the same reason, but kept it for appearances and its large pockets.

After tying the drape to the topmost step, he went back down the ladder and snuffed out the candle. The stub he put in a pants pocket, the candle holder in a coat pocket. Then he climbed the ladder again. Only then did he wonder if he could make it out the window. It proved by far the most difficult part of the project. First he dropped his coat onto the balcony roof. A couple of awkward, squirming, even desperate minutes later he was outside, clutching the drape, and lowering himself down the wall. His feet touched the balcony roof with a foot of drape to spare.

After putting his coat back on, he knelt and looked over the end. It scarcely overhung the balcony rail at all; a foot at most. He bellied over feet first. His feet found the rail and took his weight. Letting go the roof edge with one hand, he carefully reached upward and inward, finding and grasping a roof brace. Then he let go with the other hand, and hopped down onto the balcony-another remarkable feat taken for granted. The easy part was the balcony door. He turned the handle and it opened. Inside he lit the candle and looked around the room. Bookshelves were built against the wall on both sides of the balcony door, their books gone. Now they held miscellaneous containers, loose goods, and weighted stacks of paper. Each side wall had a door. He examined the room no further, trying one of the side doors instead.

It opened into a smaller room. A slender metal tripod stood in the middle, topped with a black metal bowl, like the one he'd seen at Schloss Tannenberg. But that one had held a crystal. This one was empty. Next to it was a small stand, chest-high on Macurdy, holding a small casket of black lacquer. Macurdy unhooked its black-iron latch and lifted the lid.

There on a black velvet cushion lay the crystal, black as obsidian, reflecting the candle in his hand. It seemed alive, and he stepped involuntarily back. Like the one he'd destroyed, it was perfectly round, but much larger, the size of a goose egg.

Hesitantly Macurdy reached, then took it from the stand. The sensation jarred him. It was as if an alarm had sounded, silent but shrill. He shoved the stone deep into a coat pocket, beneath the mitten it already held, then darted from the room. There were shouts in the hall. Jerking the balcony door open, he stepped out, even as the hall door was being unlocked behind him. Vaulting over the railing, he landed without falling.

‹I am with you. Hurry.›

Vulkan, there, invisible! They dashed around the corner to the north side. Varia was on the balcony. She saw Macurdy through his spell, but as she started over the railing, someone came through the curtains and pulled her back.

A third figure stepped to the railing. Kurqosz! His glance took in Vulkan's massive bulk, but it was Macurdy he stared at. For a long two seconds their gazes locked, then Kurqosz turned away, bellowing orders in Hithmearcisc.

‹On my back!› Vulkan's thought hissed in Macurdy's mind. He vaulted aboard him, and they fled eastward toward the forest, the boar sprinting faster than he'd ever carried Macurdy before.

Overhead, the aurora shimmered and pulsed unnoticed.