So loud and sudden was the sound that Ivy cried out and stumbled back. She clasped her hands to her ears, but it did little to m.u.f.fle the sharp wail that seemed to spring from all directions. She fought to comprehend what was occurring but could not. The noise was like a needle piercing her brain, making it impossible to think.

Standing just inside the doorway, the viscount appeared curious rather than surprised. He glanced upward, then smiled.

"Ah, Lockwell's little spies," he said, his lisping voice rising to compete with the din. "I had guessed he would direct them to warn against my presence. I see that he did not disappoint me."

Ivy shook her head. What was the viscount talking about? She followed his gaze, looking upward.

A horror gripped her. Above the doorway, the two eyes carved upon the lintel had opened wide, as if in shock or alarm. They rolled in their sockets, looking this way and that, but always coming back to peer at Lord Crayford below. All the while a brilliant blue light emanated from them, as did the keening sound.

She took another staggering step back, then glanced behind her at the grand staircase. The eye atop the newel post at the bottom was open as well, shining blue and emitting the same shrill tone. At last the paralysis that gripped her mind was broken by a shudder of understanding.

I have warned the eyes of Gambrel, her father had written in the journal, and they know to watch for him and they know to watch for him....

She turned back toward the door, and now it was not the eyes at which she gazed, but rather at the distinguished gentleman dressed in ash gray.

"You!" she cried. "You're Mr. Gambrel!"

"The very same, Lady Quent," he said with a bow. Then he straightened, directing his inquisitive gaze at her. "Now, my dear, why don't we proceed with that tour of the house?"

CHAPTER FORTY.

THE LUMENAL WAS far shorter than what the almanac called for, and the sunbeam that fell from the high window seemed to lurch across Eldyn's writing table in fits and starts.

He did little work on the box of receipts. How could he have done! Yet it was easy enough to emulate Father Gadby, and to simply shuffle slips of paper from one heap to another. As long as some activity was taking place, the rector seemed not to notice his lack of progress.

Several times as the brief day stuttered by, Eldyn went back through the ledger. One by one he found them: receipts he had recorded for the purchase of red curtains, all of them signed by Archdeacon Lemarck. Previously, Eldyn had thought it odd there were so many such receipts when he had never seen red drapes anywhere in Graychurch.

Now he knew it was not for this church that the curtains had been intended, but rather for another church within the archdeaconry of the Old City. I a.s.sume we are still to deliver them to I a.s.sume we are still to deliver them to the usual place the usual place, the man at the shop on Weaver's Row had said, the old chapel in High Holy the old chapel in High Holy....

But for what purpose? The theaters on Durrow Street used red curtains before their stages to block out the light of illusion and keep the audience from glimpsing a scene before it was ready to be revealed. However, Eldyn could not imagine a reason why they might be wanted beneath the old chapel. Perhaps it was simply that he he had a taste for that lurid color, and so robed himself in it, and draped it around him. had a taste for that lurid color, and so robed himself in it, and draped it around him.

Or perhaps it was as the article in The Swift Arrow The Swift Arrow suggested, and he had decided that red curtains formed a fitting backdrop to a place where he lured illusionists to meet their end. Only why? According to the Testament, G.o.d would judge them in Eternum. So why had the archdeacon taken it upon himself to condemn them here in this world? suggested, and he had decided that red curtains formed a fitting backdrop to a place where he lured illusionists to meet their end. Only why? According to the Testament, G.o.d would judge them in Eternum. So why had the archdeacon taken it upon himself to condemn them here in this world?

As if a candle had been snuffed out, the shaft of light falling upon the open ledger ceased. He shut it, rose, and went to the stairs.

"Good night, Mr. Garritt," the rector said, adding an extra jowl or two to his chin as he smiled. "I will see you on the morrow, I trust?"

Eldyn drew in a breath. "Good-bye, Father Gadby," he said, then ascended to the church above.

He moved swiftly through the long nave, past rows of glaring saints, having no wish to linger. Previously, he had felt a sense of quietude within the walls of Graychurch. Now it was no longer a lofty sanctuary, but rather a dim, hulking prison from which he only wanted escape.

Despite his urgency, as he drew even with the door that led to the chapel of St. Amorah, he paused. Through the door, he glimpsed a figure in a gray dress standing before the marble form of the saint, her hands clasped tightly in prayer. He approached the entrance of the side chapel, thinking to go in, to tell his sister not to expect him at the apartment that night.

As he reached the doorway his view was improved, and he realized with a start that Sashie was not alone. A priest in a black robe stood beside her. He was somewhat thickset and possessed of a balding pate. Even as Eldyn watched, Sashie took a sliver of wood and caught the flame from a candle. She glanced up at the priest, and he laid a large hand upon her wrist, gently guiding her as she lit another candle before the saint. As she gazed at the candle, he moved nearer, leaning down to bring his nose close to the dark knot of her hair. robe stood beside her. He was somewhat thickset and possessed of a balding pate. Even as Eldyn watched, Sashie took a sliver of wood and caught the flame from a candle. She glanced up at the priest, and he laid a large hand upon her wrist, gently guiding her as she lit another candle before the saint. As she gazed at the candle, he moved nearer, leaning down to bring his nose close to the dark knot of her hair.

Eldyn sucked in a sharp breath. The sound echoed off the stone vaults, and Sashie gasped as she looked up. At the same time the priest took a hurried step back from her. Both of them turned to look at the doorway.

There was nothing within its arch but shadows.

Eldyn backed away from the entrance to the side chapel, weaving the darkness around himself, caring not that he wove illusions beneath the vaults of a church. He was not certain what he had just witnessed. Or wasn't he? After all, Dercy had told him about the proclivities of priests.

Tomorrow he would speak to Sashie and warn her about Father Prestus's motives-if tomorrow found Eldyn still in the world, that was. For now, he turned and pa.s.sed through the front doors, leaving behind the chanting, the incense, and the brilliant frescoes upon the ceiling.

The evening bells began to ring as he hurried down the steps of Graychurch. He did not look back. As he pa.s.sed through crooked streets, he kept the shadows around him, weaving them thicker and darker, so that no eye could penetrate them.

Soon he reached the edge of High Holy, and Eldyn moved more carefully. However, while he noticed all the usual denizens of the place-the night ladies and drunks and hard-faced men standing by open blazes in the street-he did not see any figures in hooded robes. Nor did anyone see him him, and so he came to the old chapel at the summit of the hill.

He made his way past the group of wh.o.r.es who sat upon the chapel steps, and what with their cackling and the bottle of gin they pa.s.sed back and forth, they paid him no heed. The wooden door of the church leaned crooked upon its hinges, and it was easy enough to press his slim form through the crack, into the chapel beyond. enough to press his slim form through the crack, into the chapel beyond.

That he was not the first to have done so was apparent. As his eyes adjusted to the faint haze of moon and fires that breathed through the broken-toothed maws of the windows, he saw that the chapel had been stripped of all its trappings. Over the years, anything gilt or marble that could be pried up had been. There was nothing left but a few rats' nests of blankets that had been wadded up in alcoves by people seeking shelter. Nothing adorned the walls save dark stains that ran down the bare stone.

Still encapsulated in shadows, Eldyn moved to the back of the chapel. There, behind the place where the altar would have once rested, was a hole in the floor. He could make out the first few steps leading down. He listened for a moment, but he heard only the raucous laughter outside. Then, taking in a breath of musty air, he descended the steps into the crypts.

The blackness was complete beneath the chapel, so that he was forced to release the shadows and instead conjure the faintest ball of blue light he could fashion. By its wan emanations, he made his way past niches in the wall that were empty of anything except for bits of splintered wood and, here and there, the pale shard of a bone.

At last he reached the end of the crypt, and there in the wall was an opening blocked by an iron gate. Eldyn gripped one of the stout metal bars and pushed against the gate. It did not budge; a ma.s.sive lock held the gate shut. He peered through the bars, but his fairy-light illuminated only the first few feet of a rough-hewn pa.s.sage.

Eldyn retreated to the alcove nearest the door and huddled down inside it. At some point, he he would come here, with more curtains, or perhaps an illusionist, and he would have to open the gate when he did. Eldyn would wait for him, no matter how long it took. What he would do then, he did not know. Follow, he supposed, if he could. would come here, with more curtains, or perhaps an illusionist, and he would have to open the gate when he did. Eldyn would wait for him, no matter how long it took. What he would do then, he did not know. Follow, he supposed, if he could.

It was Eldyn's intention to wait all night, and to come the next night if he had to, and the next. However, he had sat on the cold stone no more than half an hour when he heard the echoing sound of footsteps. Hastily he snuffed out the blue wisp of light, realizing he had been sustaining it without thinking. He retreated deeper into the niche, making himself as small as he could against the rotting brick wall. stone no more than half an hour when he heard the echoing sound of footsteps. Hastily he snuffed out the blue wisp of light, realizing he had been sustaining it without thinking. He retreated deeper into the niche, making himself as small as he could against the rotting brick wall.

The footsteps drew closer, accompanied by a wheezing noise. It was not from above that the sounds came, as he had expected; rather, they echoed out of the pa.s.sage beyond the iron gate. A moment later there was a jingling sound, followed by the groan of metal.

Someone had opened the gate. Then the jingling resumed; they were locking it again! Eldyn sucked in a breath. Only he must have made an audible sound, for the jingling ceased.

"Who is there?" a voice hissed off cold stone.

Eldyn groped against the wall of the niche. His fingers found the edge of a brick and pulled. It came free, along with a rain of rotted mortar that pattered against the floor.

"I know you are there!" said the voice. There came the wheezing sound again, punctuated by a snuffling, and then a low laugh. "There you are-I can see your light. So another has come right to our doorstop. What providence! I will not have to go to Durrow Street to find him one more for tonight."

Those words made no sense. How could the other see him? Eldyn had extinguished the illusory light. Unless it was a different illumination the other had spoken of....

The footsteps drew closer. Eldyn waited until they were nearly upon him. Then he sprang to his feet, and at the same time he conjured an orb of light. It was not a faint wisp he fashioned this time, but rather a blazing sphere. The darkness fled before its rays, and the robed figure before him let out a cry and staggered back.

The other drew in a wheezing breath. "You?" a voice emanated from the depths of his black hood. "How are you you here?" here?"

Eldyn did not know what this meant, but he did not wait to hear more. Instead he gripped the brick in his right hand and brought it down with all his might against the black hood.

There was an awful thud thud, and in an instant the other crumpled to the floor of the crypt, lying there like one of the wadded nests of rags he had seen in the chapel above. For a moment he clutched the brick, holding it high in case he had to strike another blow. to the floor of the crypt, lying there like one of the wadded nests of rags he had seen in the chapel above. For a moment he clutched the brick, holding it high in case he had to strike another blow.

There was no need. The other's chest still rose and fell, but he otherwise made no motion.

Eldyn dimmed the orb of light to a fainter glow, then knelt down. The man's hood had fallen aside, and his face was visible now. He was not so old as Eldyn had thought, though his cheeks were sunken, and there was a grayness to his flesh. Yet it was not these things that made Eldyn let out a gasp. Rather, it was the man's eyes.

Or rather, the scarred pits where his eyes should have been.

The man was blind, yet he had seen Eldyn there in the dark-just like the robed figure that night he pa.s.sed through High Holy, cloaked in shadows. But then, surely this was the same man. Only how could he see Eldyn and the light he had conjured when he possessed no eyes?

There was no time to wonder more. The sounds of their struggle might have drawn attention. Straining, Eldyn pulled the limp form into the niche. When his work was done he went to the iron gate.

A ring of keys dangled from the lock. Eldyn took them, then pushed against the gate. It swung forward. A momentary trembling came over him. He started to murmur a prayer to steady himself, but stopped after only a few words. Who was he to ask the help of G.o.d?

He entered the pa.s.sage and locked the gate behind him.

Eldyn maintained the orb of illusory light as he went, though once again he made it as faint as possible, so that it did no more than allow him to see where his next footstep would fall. The pa.s.sage doubled back on itself several times, and he often glimpsed the first of a flight of steps just before he went tumbling forward. Down, the pa.s.sage led, and deeper down.

Suddenly it was not rough-hewn stone he pa.s.sed by; rather, he felt the velvety brush of cloth to either side of him. A shudder coursed through him. He was close now.

Even as he thought this, he saw a light ahead-not the blue glow of his fairy-light, but rather a warm radiance. The pa.s.sage widened, and he had the sense that he was in a large s.p.a.ce now. However, sound and the movement of air were stifled by the many curtains that draped all around. They hung from the ceiling, dividing up the room into dozens of smaller pockets, making a labyrinth of the place.

Eldyn navigated by following the light, the curtains whispering as he pa.s.sed them. He heard other sounds as well-soft sighs and moanings, and the clanking of chains. He did his best to put these sounds out of mind and kept moving toward the light. At one point he pa.s.sed a table on which were arrayed a variety of knives, hooks, and other metallic utensils whose purpose he dared not try to fathom. He took up a curved knife and gripped its leather-wrapped handle.

The illumination grew brighter, until at last he saw its source: a gold line gleaming through the crack between two crimson drapes. He crept as quietly as he could toward the gap, though he did not know what noise he might have made, for he could hear nothing over the pounding of his heart. With a shaking hand, he reached to part the curtains farther.

"Be still, Mr. Garritt," spoke a deep, resonant voice. "There will be pain, but it is little to suffer in exchange for the gift you will be given."

Terror froze Eldyn. He had been seen! Only there was something odd. It had not seemed that the voice was speaking to him him. Despite his dread, he leaned forward and peered through the gap into the curtains.

Beyond was a small s.p.a.ce draped all around in red, lit by the glow from an iron brazier. In the center of the s.p.a.ce stood the tall figure of Archdeacon Lemarck. Even though Eldyn knew it was him, had even expected it, the sight was still a shock. The archdeacon wore a priest's ca.s.sock that was as red as the curtains, and his piercing blue gaze was directed to the chair before him. Sitting in the chair, bound to it with leather cords, was a slender, dark-haired man in a gray coat.

"It will be easier on you if you do not struggle," the archdeacon said. He held a pair of iron pincers over the coals in the brazier, heating them. "Do not fear. It will take but a moment, and when I am done you will be able to see with a holier vision. For I have been told by my lord that you have been chosen to receive this gift."

The man in the chair let out a bitter laugh, and he raised his head to look at the archdeacon. As he did, a confusion came over Eldyn, and his brain struggled to comprehend the scene before him. For the man who was bound to the chair was...

...Eldyn Garritt.

"G.o.d doesn't speak to you," the Eldyn in the chair said, a look of disgust upon his pretty face. "G.o.d doesn't speak to anyone. He listens from far away-if he listens at all. That's what the Testament says."

All at once confusion was replaced by clarity, followed swiftly by horror. Illusion could change one's appearance, but it couldn't alter a person's voice.

"I did not say it was G.o.d who spoke to me, Mr. Garritt." The archdeacon gave a little shrug. "Well, struggle if you wish. It matters not. In the end, the will of my lord must be done."

In a swift motion he grabbed a handful of dark hair, pulling it back to tilt the other's face upward. The man in the chair let out a moan of pain and fear. Then the archdeacon brought the hot pincers down toward one of those wide brown eyes....

"No!" Eldyn cried out, thrusting the curtains aside.

The archdeacon drew back the pincers and turned his head. For only a moment was his expression one of surprise. Then, quickly, it grew serene again. He ran his blue gaze over Eldyn, then directed it again to the chair, to the other Eldyn who sat there. All at once, he laughed.

"Well, I see that a little trick has been played upon me. How amusing! I confess, it never occurred to me someone would attempt such a thing. I made no effort at all to look for such a ruse. Though now that I do, it is seen through easily enough." He reached out, laying his free hand upon the brow of the man in the chair as if in a benediction.

The other screamed, his back arching away from the chair, straining against the bonds. Then, as if tearing off a mask, the archdeacon pulled his hand away, and the bound man was no longer Eldyn.

In the chair, Dercy shuddered. His blond hair was wild, and his face twisted into a grimace of pain. He turned his sea green eyes toward Eldyn, and they grew large.

"Blast you, Eldyn, what are you-?"

"Silence," the archdeacon commanded.

Again he laid a hand on Dercy's brow, and again Dercy cried out, the leather cords cutting deep into the flesh of his wrists as he strained against them. His skin went gray; at the same time the archdeacon let out a breath, like the sigh one emits upon experiencing some sensation of pleasure. For a moment his own skin glowed with a warm, coppery radiance that Eldyn was sure did not come from the brazier.

Eldyn leaped into the s.p.a.ce beyond the curtain, the knife before him. "Stop it!"

"There, I have stopped," Lemarck said coolly as he withdrew the pincers and put them back on the brazier. "There is no need to shout like a hooligan, Mr. Garritt. A priest must speak in quiet, measured words."

Eldyn clenched his hands into fists. "I will never be a priest."

"No, I suppose you won't."

In the chair, Dercy sagged against his bonds, his face ashen and glistening with sweat, and his chest heaving rapidly. His hair was no longer its usual bright gold, but was rather dull and tarnished. He gripped the arms of the chair with white fingers.

A sickness spread through Eldyn. "What have you done to him?"

"I took some of his light," the archdeacon said, as if this was the most inconsequential thing.

Eldyn's brain labored to understand. He recalled his conversation with Mouse in the tavern. "But light can only be given. You cannot take it from someone."

"Perhaps you you cannot take it, Mr. Garritt. My lord has seen fit to grant me...other abilities." cannot take it, Mr. Garritt. My lord has seen fit to grant me...other abilities."

Eldyn took another step forward, the knife before him. "Your lord? You mean G.o.d?"

"G.o.d?" Lemarck seemed to consider these words for a moment. "At first, I thought perhaps it was G.o.d I heard. After all, it was beneath Graychurch, deep in the crypts there, that I discovered the window. Even though it was far below the ground, a red light spilled through it, and I wondered if it was the light of Eternum."

He shook his head. "But it wasn't Eternum I glimpsed through the window, and the voice that spoke to me did not belong to the G.o.d to whom this chapel was raised. No, Ul'zulgul is older than that, and far stronger. For eons he has waited for the door to open again. Now the time comes when he and the others will pa.s.s from their world into our own, and we must make certain all is ready for their coming. For if we do, we will be greatly rewarded."

Eldyn felt both a wonder and a horror. "You're mad," he murmured.

"Am I?" The archdeacon made a small motion with his hand. "Or is it you who has lost possession of his faculties, Mr. Garritt?"

Lemarck was no more than three paces away. Eldyn tightened his grip on the knife and prepared himself to leap forward; only then he halted, glancing downward in puzzlement.

The floor before him was moving. Its surface undulated like the black water of a pond whipped by a wind. Even as he watched, a number of droplets splashed upon his trousers.

Then they began to move up his legs.

Eldyn bent to look closer, and a cry escaped him. The spots on his legs were not droplets of black water, but rather black spiders. The entire floor was covered with spiders now. They skittered over one another in a thick, writhing ma.s.s.

He swatted at the spiders on his legs, but more of them climbed up to take their place. Eldyn stamped his feet, trying to crush them beneath his boots, but it was no use. More spiders crawled up his legs. Others swarmed down the curtains and dropped onto his shoulders and arms from above. In a panic he dropped the knife and tried to brush them off, but it was no use. More spiders crawled over him. He opened his mouth to scream. his shoulders and arms from above. In a panic he dropped the knife and tried to brush them off, but it was no use. More spiders crawled over him. He opened his mouth to scream.