At the center of the courtyard stood a hundred-foot-tall tower. From the top of the tower, red smoke billowed.
Titus exhaled with relief when their path at last led away from the courtyard into the building. He stripped off his driving gloves. His palms were damp with perspiration.
They descended immediately; the aboveground rooms were obviously too good to waste on prisoners. The air below was musty, as was usually the case for subterranean interiors, but every surface was scrupulously clean.
All the hygienic measures in the world, however, could not diminish the oppressiveness of the place. With every step he took, the walls seemed to close in another inch. The air grew warmer and denser. It suffocated.
Three flights down, a desire to flee seized him. Thousands and thousands of mages had been held here in the first few years after the January Uprising. No one knew what had happened to them. But their despair had seeped into the very walls. Invisible filaments of it curled around Tituss ankles, driving chills up his tendons.
Three more flights down they emerged into a large circular space with eight corridors leading from it. The corridor they followed went on for a hundred and fifty feet. There were no bars, only solid walls and steel doors that were far too close together.
The cells could not have been more than four feet wide.
Baslan stopped halfway down the corridor. With a tap of his hand, a narrow section of the wall turned transparent. A small, dimly lit cell appeared before them, empty except for a thin cot on the stone floor. A woman sat on the cot, sobbingthe housebreaker.
Rise, proclaimed Lowridge, as his subordinates clicked their heels smartly. You are in the presence of the Master of the Domain, His Serene Highness Titus the Seventh.
The woman looked up in shock. Then contempt. She spat. You lie!
This amused Titus, if grimly. Can she see us?
No, Your Highness, answered Baslan. The transparency is only one way.
Who is she?
Her name is Nettle Oakbluff. She is the registrar of Little Grind-on-Woe.
Titus addressed the woman. Why are you here?
I shouldnt be! the woman cried. I was trying to help Atlantis. I was trying to get them the girl!
Titus glanced at Baslan, whose expression remained perfectly composed.
You are a subject of the Domain. Why do you seek to help Atlantis?
There is money in it. Obviously a great deal of truth serum still flowed
through the womans veins. I overheard my in-laws-to-be talking about it all hush-hush. They said Atlantis was itching for a really powerful elemental mage and that the agent who brought in this mage stood to gain a huge reward.
And have you received said reward?
Nettle Oakbluff blew her nose into a handkerchief. No. All I got for my trouble is hours and hours of questioning. I want gold. I want servants. I want a villa overlooking the ocean in Delamer.
Her voice rose. Do you hear me, Atlantis? You owe me that reward. If it werent for me, Iolanthe Seabourne and her guardian would have disappeared without a trace. You owe me!
She struggled to her feet. You cant keep me here forever. My in-laws-to-be are important people. Oh, Fortune take pity on me, the wedding! Someone tell me what happened to the wedding. I need my daughter to marry the Greymoors son and I demand
She seems in fine fettle, Titus said to Baslan. Next.
The wall was instantly opaque and soundproof, cutting off Nettle Oakbluff mid-tirade.
They walked some fifty feet down the corridor. The next cell Baslan revealed was similarly bare. A man sat on the cot, his back against the wall. He was unshaven, thinner and older than Titus remembered. But there was no question: he was Fairfaxs guardian.
Titus took Fairfax out of the folds of his overrobe, keeping a tight grip on her tiny body. His other hand rested against the pocket where his wand was concealed. No one was going to snatch her from himnot without a fight to the death.
I want him to see whom he is speaking to, Titus ordered. I will not have another subject of mine think it is permissible to sit in my presence.
Reluctantly, Baslan complied.
Horatio Haywood blinked at the influx of light. He squinted at his visitors. There was apprehension in his eyes, but not yet the instinctive, cringing fear of the tortured.
Rise, Lowridge again proclaimed. You are in the presence of the Master of the Domain, His Serene Highness Titus the Seventh.
Haywood blinked again, rose unsteadily to his feet, and bowed. Only to lose his balance and stumble sideways into the wall. Fairfax was very still in Tituss hand, but her claws dug into his palm, and her heart hammered beneath the warm down of her chest.
Titus asked for Haywoods name, age, and occupation. Haywood answered obediently, a hint of hoarseness to his voice.
How have you spent your time since your arrival at the Inquisitory?
I was hit with a paralysis curse before I was brought here and recovered only this morning. Since then I have been answering questions.
Do you know why you are being held here?