Tigana by Guy Kay (novel24 txt) 📕

at intervals all along and an arched entrance to the infirmary’s small temple at the opposite end. Most of the doors were open; most of the rooms were empty.

But then, in that short corridor he came to one closed door; Savandi’s trail led there and stopped. Devin clutched the handle and threw his shoulder hard against the heavy wood. Locked. Immovable.

Sobbing for breath he dropped to his knees, grappling in his pocket for the twist of wire he was never without: not since Marra had been alive. Since she had taught him all he knew about locks. He untwisted and tried to shape the wire, but his hands were trembling. Sweat streamed into his eyes. He wiped it furiously away and fought for calm. He had to get this door open before the man inside sent the message that would destroy them all.

An exterior door opened behind him. Steps thudded quickly down the hallway.

Without looking up, Devin said: ‘The man who touches or hinders me dies. Savandi is a spy for the King of Ygrath. Find me a key for this door!’

‘It is done!’ came a voice he knew. ‘It is open. Go!’

Devin flung a glance over his shoulder and saw Erlein di Senzio standing there with a sword in his hand.

Springing to his feet Devin twisted the handle again. The door swung open. He charged into the room. There were jars and vials lining shelves around the walls, and instruments on tables. Savandi was there, on a bench in the middle of the room, hands at his temples, visibly straining to concentrate.

‘Plague rot your soul!’ Devin screamed at the top of his voice. Savandi seemed to snap awake. He rose with a feral snarl, grabbing for a surgical blade on the table beside him.

He never reached it.

Still screaming, Devin was upon him, his left hand gouging at the priest’s eyes. He slashed forward and up with his right in a hard and deadly arc, plunging his blade in between Savandi’s ribs. Once, he stabbed, and then again, raking savagely upward, feeling the blade twist, grinding against bone with a sickening sensation. The young priest’s mouth gaped open, his eyes widened in astonishment. He screamed, high and short, his hands flying outward from his sides. And then he died.

Devin released him and collapsed on the bench, fighting for breath. Blood pounded in his head; he could feel a vein pulsing at his temple. His vision blurred for a moment and he closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw that his hands were still shaking.

Erlein had sheathed his sword. He moved to stand beside Devin.

‘Did . . . did he send . . .?’ Devin found that he couldn’t even speak properly.

‘No.’ The wizard shook his head. ‘You came in time. He didn’t link. No message went.’

Devin stared down at the blank, staring eyes and the body of the young priest who had sought to betray them. How long? he wondered. How long was he doing this?

‘How did you get here?’ he asked Erlein, his voice hoarse. His hands were still shaking. He dropped the bloodied knife with a clatter on the tabletop.

‘I followed from the bedchamber. Saw which way you went until I lost you around the back of the temple. Then I needed magic. I traced Savandi’s aura here.’

‘We came through the hedges and across the cloister. He was trying to shake me.’

‘I can see that. You’re bleeding again.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Devin took a deep breath. There were footsteps in the corridor outside. ‘Why did you come? Why do this for us?’

Erlein looked defensive for an instant, but quickly regained his sardonic expression. ‘For you? Don’t be a fool, Devin. I die if Alessan does. I’m bound, remember? This was self-preservation. Nothing else.’

Devin looked up at him, wanting to say something more, something important, but just then the footsteps reached the doorway and Danoleon entered quickly with Torre close behind. Neither of them said a word, taking in the scene.

‘He was trying to mind-link with Brandin,’ Devin said. ‘Erlein and I got to him in time.’

Erlein made a dismissive sound. ‘Devin did. But I had to use a spell to follow them and another on the door. I don’t think they were strong enough to draw attention, but in case there is a Tracker anywhere around here we had better get moving before morning.’

Danoleon seemed not to have even heard. He was looking down at Savandi’s body. There were tears on his face.

‘Don’t waste your grief on a carrion bird,’ Torre said harshly.

‘I must,’ the High Priest said softly, leaning upon his staff. ‘I must. Don’t you understand? He was born in Avalle. He was one of us.’

Devin abruptly turned his head away. He felt sick to his stomach, hit by a resurgence of the raging white fury that had sped him here, and had driven him to kill so violently. One of us. He remembered Sandre d’Astibar in the cabin in the woods, betrayed by his grandchild. He was seriously afraid he was going to be ill. One of us.

Erlein di Senzio laughed. Devin wheeled furiously around on him, his hands clenched into fists. And there must have been something murderous in his eyes, for the wizard quickly sobered, mockery leaving his face as if wiped away with a cloth.

There was a short silence.

Danoleon drew himself up and straightened his massive shoulders. He said, ‘This will have to be dealt with carefully or the story will spread. We can’t have Savandi’s death traced to our guests. Torre, when we leave lock this room with the body in it. After dark, when the others are asleep we will deal with him.’

‘He’ll be missed at dinner,’ Torre said.

‘No he won’t. You are the porter. You will see him ride through the gate late this afternoon. He will be going to see his family. It fits, just after the Ember Days, and in the wake of the news from Chiara. He has ridden out often enough, and not always with