Part 7 (1/2)
”Fit in the envelope? What is an envelope? Something like those metal buckets?”
”Not at all,” replied Ebbitt. ”An envelope is what you put a letter in. An appropriate envelope, depending on the letter. A formal response to an invitation, for example, should be placed inside a square envelope that is either the color of your order, or white, if seeking to depress pretension--”
”Ebbitt!” snapped Milla. ”What is this envelope we can travel in?”
”Oh, that is an envelope of Light Magic. Otherwise we would get scalded by the steam. It is an invention of my own. I suppose it could be called a caul, or a second skin, or a container, or a shroud, though that is rather morbid...”
Ebbitt's voice trailed off into a mutter and he started counting on his fingers, enumerating all the things you could call this envelope of magic he used to travel by steam.
”Perhaps we should try to find some other way,” said Milla to Saylsen and Malen. ”Graile? Do you know what Ebbitt means? And if we can get out to Red Five we could get to the Violet levels from there, surely?”
Graile was half asleep again, but she opened her eyes as Milla spoke and answered softly, ”I don't know exactly what Ebbitt means, but I presume he has found some way to travel through the heating system of the Castle. There are steam pipes that carry steam from the depths throughout the Castle. But yes, if you can get out to the Red levels, there are many ways from there to the Violet levels.”
”But not as quickly as by steam,” interrupted Ebbitt. ”You would have to fight every stretch of the way through Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo. By steam, we would be in Violet in a matter of minutes. Oh, dark take it, I've lost my count. Where was I? Yes, forty-three, a sac, forty-four, a paldroon...”
”I suppose we will have to chance this steam pa.s.sage,” sighed Milla. ”I will go, of course, and Malen, you had best come with me. That leaves one to choose. Perhaps Graile...”
But Graile was asleep again, slumped against her Spiritshadow, which had folded one dark wing over her as if she were a chick to be sheltered.
”No. She is still too weak,” Milla answered herself.
”I will come, War-Chief,” said Saylsen. Milla shook her head. Even though Saylsen had said nothing, Milla was sure from her slightly odd posture that the locomotor hand had broken some of the s.h.i.+eld Mother's ribs, if not inflicted more serious injuries.
”No. I need you to lead the others back to the main host and a.s.sume command. I think... Jarek.”
”War-Chief--” Saylsen began, but Milla cut her off with a sign.
”We will face the strongest Light Magic,” she said. ”Jarek can survive it, as we have seen.”
”He is a Wilder, War-Chief,” warned Saylsen, ignoring Milla's attempt to cut her off. ”If the fury takes him, you might not be able to steer him straight. It were best I come with you instead.”
Milla met the s.h.i.+eld Mother's fierce gaze and tried to look commanding. But was Saylsen right? Someone had to lead the others back, and Milla was sure Saylsen needed to have her ribs bandaged, or perhaps even to be taken back out to the Crones waiting in the heatways.
”I have spoken,” she said finally. ”You will lead the others back. I will take Malen and Jarek with me.”
For a moment, Milla thought Saylsen would refuse, and she wondered what she could do about it. Then the s.h.i.+eld Mother dropped her gaze and clapped her fists.
”As the War-Chief wills,” she said. ”We will hurry, and I will join the host. We will meet again in the Violet levels, as soon as may be.”
”Malen?” asked Milla, to be sure the Crone--and all the other Crones--would not object to this plan.
Malen's eyes clouded for a moment, making contact. Then she shook her head, rather dispiritedly. She had not been the same since she had been cut off from the group consciousness of the Crones earlier. Some vital spark of life appeared to have gone out of her.
”You are War-Chief,” Malen said shortly and clapped her fists. ”You will be unfettered by my counsel.”
”Jarek?” asked Milla, raising her voice. ”I want you to come with me.”
Jarek strode through the s.h.i.+eld Maidens, standing out head and shoulders above them all, his strange blue skin glistening in the light from Milla's Sunstone.
The Wilder had finally come out of his post-fury state. He stopped in front of Milla, towering above her, and clapped his fists together. He did not speak, but simply nodded very slowly to indicate that he had heard and would obey.
”Good hunting,” said Saylsen and she clapped her fists again, before leading the remaining s.h.i.+eld Maidens and hunters down the steps. Each of them clapped his or her fists as they pa.s.sed Milla, and she answered in kind. The last two helped Graile up, her Spiritshadow flitting backward and forward behind her.
Graile weakly gave light from her Sunstone to Milla.
”May the Light protect you,” she said. ”If... if you should meet up with Tal, tell him that he has my love, trust, and hope. May we all meet again, under the Veil.”
”That is also my wish,” said Milla. ”We will do everything we can to secure the Veil.”
”Farewell, Uncle,” Graile added as she started down the stairs. But Ebbitt didn't hear her. He was in a world of his own, mumbling and counting, until Milla tapped him on the shoulder.
”We are ready,” she said. ”Take us to the steam and the Violet levels.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
For once Ebbitt was right about where they were. He led Milla and the others farther along the pa.s.sage that ended in a small room totally dominated by a large metal door, with a wheel set in the middle of it.
”Here we are, here we are,” declared Ebbitt. ”Gather close, everyone, gather close. No, closer still, please, Master Blue. Odris, you do not need to join us. Steam does not hurt shadows.”
Jarek did not seem displeased by being called Master Blue, Milla was relieved to see. They all cl.u.s.tered close around Ebbitt. When they'd finished shuffling and were all practically shoulder to shoulder, the old Chosen raised his hand, and the Sunstone ring on his finger suddenly shone with a pure indigo light.
”One, two, around Master Blue,” chanted Ebbitt, moving his hand in a complex gesture, a trail of light following the motion. ”Three, four, can't take any more.”
Milla watched with interest as Ebbitt used the light like a weaver would a shuttle, building up threads of light into a solid cloth that wrapped all around the four of them. It extended under their feet, too, and finished with Ebbitt bringing it in over the top as well.
”Walk with me, stay near,” ordered Ebbitt. He shuffled toward the metal door. Then he pushed his hands against the indigo light that surrounded them, and it stretched out without breaking, giving Ebbitt indigo mittens. He turned the wheel, but did not open the door, looking to his Spiritshadow.
It looked back, then slowly slipped under the door. This was not made of the golden metal, Milla observed, for that was impervious to shadows, and there was no crack between floor and door. It was merely iron or something similar.
The feline Spiritshadow did not return for a minute or two. Ebbitt tapped his foot impatiently and whistled through his teeth. Finally the Spiritshadow slipped back out and nodded its great maned head.
Ebbitt opened the door, and steam poured out all over them. The three Icecarls started, but the steam was repelled by the indigo light, splas.h.i.+ng harmlessly around them.
Beyond the door, Milla could just see a deep shaft, filled with steam. Obviously this was one of the risers Ebbitt had mentioned.
”In step now,” said Ebbitt. ”Don't think we'll fall, because we have a very pretty floor.”
He stepped off with the others shuffling behind. For an instant, he looked like he would fall, despite his words, with the indigo light giving way under his feet. But it simply bounced a little and supported both him and the others as they followed him into the shaft. The two Spiritshadows slid along the wall and then slowly slipped through the envelope of light that surrounded Ebbitt and the Icecarls.
”It tickles,” giggled Odris as she rose up next to Milla. ”Tickly light.”
”Great gouts of steam,” muttered Ebbitt as he shuffled around and closed the door behind them, the indigo light still wrapping his hands when he pushed against it. ”Huge great gusts of great steam. That's what we want.”