Terciel and Elinor by Garth Nix

Author:Garth Nix
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books
Published: 2021-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

It was cold under the House, quite unlike the building above, which was heated with hot water pipes from the deep springs and additionally warmed by layers of magic set in walls and floors by generations of Abhorsens who sought even greater comfort. But down below, the winter beyond the walls of the Abhorsen’s House had settled into the rough-hewn rock.

Tizanael went down the steps first. The sloping corridor from the cellar was quite narrow at first, but it soon broadened out to become a circular stair that went down past several landings and, for all Terciel knew, might continue on for many, many more. It certainly went on past the sixth landing, where they stopped. Guard Sendings emerged from the iron-banded oak door there, heavily armed and armored Sendings with closed helmets of blackened steel, more forbidding than any others Terciel knew.

“Stay still,” warned Tizanael. She stepped forward and announced them: “The Abhorsen Tizanael and the Abhorsen-in-Waiting Terciel.”

Tiny Charter marks tumbled from her mouth, to be lifted by her breath like glowing dust motes, sparkling in the air. The guard Sendings leaned forward and took them in, the marks of Tizanael’s breath merging with the marks that made up the Sendings. For a moment longer they were still, before they bowed deeply and edged back, themselves fading into invisibility as they entered oak and iron and stone. The door groaned open, the hinges protesting, as if it had been a very long time since anyone had last passed this way.

The passage beyond was dark, until Tizanael stepped through the door and Charter marks in the ceiling sprang to life. Not brilliantly, as a new-cast spell for light would do, but with a soft illumination, not much better than having a candle in a sconce every few feet. But it was enough to see that this passage continued for at least sixty feet, and there were three doors on the left side, and four on the right. Heavy, iron-bound doors.

“The second on the left,” mused Tizanael. “Or so says Moregrim.”

She strode to the door, but did not move to open it. Instead she passed her hand across the face of the door, without actually touching it. Charter marks flared in the timber and the iron bolts, many marks joined in patterns within patterns. Tizanael studied the marks carefully, and beckoned to Terciel without turning to him.

“What do you make of the spells upon this door?”

Terciel looked carefully, identifying the marks he knew. There was one spell he was sure of, and several others where he knew from the marks used the basic idea of the spell without being sure of its exact use. But there were half a dozen more where he simply didn’t know any of the marks.

“There is one spell to make the door strong,” he said slowly. “As if it were all tempered iron, and much thicker than it actually is. I can also see marks for blinding and deafening, but I do not know the spells or how they might be unleashed.

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