He followed his father’s dark form, staying close behind. Hopefully Fyrdo knew the location of all the embedded information reporting devices. He carried no light, but moved with deliberate care through the darkened labs. To Jadren’s great interest, Fyrdo didn’t go in the direction of the aluminum bridge that was, so far as Jadren knew, the only entrance and exit to the labs, one with extensive traps and triggers that only authorized wizards knew how to manipulate. Instead, they moved through a labyrinthine series of rooms, the path so twisting Jadren quickly lost whatever orientation he’d had. How his father had discovered this route, Jadren had no idea. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration how the house tended to get ideas of its own on how it wanted to be laid out. Too many enchantments layered into the bones of the house by careless or crazed—or both—El-Adrel wizards had given the structure a kind of intelligence that bordered on sentience.
Fyrdo stopped abruptly enough that Jadren nearly plowed into him, though the more agile and sensitive Seliah avoided repeating the error. The apparently blank wall before Fyrdo emitted a sudden crack of intense light, blinding after the near-complete darkness.
“Through here,” Fyrdo hissed.
Jadren and Seliah went through into the very narrow hallway. She had her head ducked, eyes shaded with her free hand. Smarter than he was, with his eyes watering at the sudden change, but he wanted to see his father, who still stood in the doorway, an expression of wrenching sorrow and love on his face. He handed Jadren a heavy bag that clinked. “Supplies and some of your things,” Fyrdo explained. “What I could find in your rooms, anyway. Follow this hall to the catacombs.”
“The catacombs?” Jadren echoed. House El-Adrel entombed their dead in the subterranean reaches of the manse. It was not a place anyone went on purpose.
His father nodded. “It’s the only way. There’s a tunnel that will take you under the wall.”
“How are we to find this tunnel?” Seliah asked.
Fyrdo tipped his head at Jadren. “The house will help. It’s always liked him. You’ll find it. Follow it to the end beyond the walls. It’s up to you to get away from there.” He shrugged helplessly a bitter turn to the gesture. “I’m sorry I can’t help more than this.”
“I’m surprised you helped at all,” Jadren said hoarsely, and Seliah gave him a sharp look.
But his father only grimaced. “I know.” His gaze went to Seliah. “He’s not wrong to be surprised. All these years I could have helped and didn’t.”
“But could you have?” Jadren persisted. “I always knew that wasn’t an option for you.”
“We’ll never know, will we?” His father smiled sadly. “At least I did this.”
“Thank you.” Jadren wished the words said more, unable to shake the dread that he might never see his father again. “I love you,” he added impulsively, the first time in his life that he’d ever said the words aloud.
Fyrdo pulled him into a fierce embrace, patting his back. One. Two. Three. “I know,” he said, then released him and hugged Seliah. “Take good care of my boy,” he told her.
Seliah nodded, tears brightening her amber eyes. “I will. Thank you—for this and for all your kindness.”
“We’re out of time,” Fyrdo told them, then fixed Jadren with a significant stare. “I don’t think I have to warn you of the dangers or urge you to hurry.”
“But how did you—” Jadren began.
His father cut him off with a hard shake of his head. “Goodbye. Don’t come back this way.”
On those oddly ominous words, he stepped back and sealed the door, leaving them in the bright and narrow hallway. A light pattern of arrowheads flickered along the floor, white on white.
“As if we’d want to go back to those horrible labs,” Seliah commented.
“We should get moving,” Jadren told her, setting a swift pace down the hall, not taking her hand again. No need for it now. The floor sloped downward noticeably, making acceleration easier, adding credence to the tale that it led into or through the catacombs. “How fast can you go?”
“How fast can you?” she countered. “You’re the one still recovering.”
“Good as new,” he said in the jauntiest tone he could muster, breaking into a jog. She kept pace with him, the hallway so narrow that they barely fit side by side, her bare arm brushing his occasionally. He ignored those brief sparks of contact, even though each one sent showers of silver moonlight and surges of magic like bracing sea spray into him. “And that’s not what my father meant,” he continued. “No matter what happens now, we’re on a one-way trajectory. There’s no retreat. Could be we’re still sinking through the bog to that bottom.” He slid her a glance to see if she understood.
“Right.” She gave him an opaque look. “Tigers in the tunnels ahead. No guarantees. But I’m glad to be taking the chance regardless. I’d rather die escaping than as a captive in that place.”
“Can’t argue with that reasoning.” The hallway continued in a perfectly straight line, which worried him greatly. Nothing in this house was as it seemed, but straight lines weren’t in its repertoire unless it was messing with you.
“Shouldn’t we get out the weapons, to be ready?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not those kinds of tigers. Weapons won’t be any help and it would only slow us down to dig them out.”
“But—”
“Later.” He bit that out harshly enough to silence her.
As if that ever worked. “We should talk about what happened,” Seliah said after a few moments, her voice even and not breathless at all. Unlike himself, who was already panting—and also fighting the unpleasant grinding sensation in one lung.
