84: THE KING’S TRAP

(Teraeth’s story)

“Oh, ducky,” Talon said, grinning. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Teraeth dove to the carpet to avoid a tentacle hitting the ground next to him like a spear, sending shards of wood up into the air. More tentacles followed, forcing him to spend the next seconds in a desperate attempt to dodge them all.

This time, it wasn’t all an illusion. This time, he was really fighting her.

Teraeth drew his knives and deflected each tentacle as they struck. He managed to even slice a few wounds into the mimic’s flesh, but he knew exactly how little good it did in the long run. Teraeth didn’t have the spike that could paralyze her either. Stupid King Kelanis—

Wait. Stupid King Kelanis had confiscated it when he’d had them all put under arrest.

Where would Kelanis have kept it? Was it possible the spike was actually in the same room?

Talon scowled and flowed to the side, re-forming in time to block Teraeth’s path from reaching the larger desk. “Looking for something?”

Teraeth feinted, then slid across the wooden floor on one of the carpets and managed to duck under one of Talon’s arms. If he could manage to get out of her line of sight for even a second, he could spin an illusion to fool her. Unfortunately, Talon knew that and wasn’t letting Teraeth out of her sight.

Teraeth crouched on the carpet, a dagger in each hand. He grimaced as the fabric of his sleeve rubbed against the thin, bleeding cut there.

“Talon, we’re not enemies.” Teraeth paused as he realized what he’d just said. “Fine. We are enemies, but we don’t have to be enemies right now. Frankly, you’ve done me a favor by killing the king.” He gestured toward the corpse without taking his eyes from the mimic.

Talon smirked. “If only I had.”

Teraeth cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

“That’s not the king,” Talon explained. “I thought he was, but, uh, no, sorry. Brains don’t lie. That’s a double.”

“You mean that was never the real king? Where is he, then?”

The doors to the library didn’t exactly slam open. It was more like the entire outward-facing wall of the library simply vanished. And in the gap thus formed was a small army of vané royal guard, several wizards, and King Kelanis himself.

Presumably the real one this time.

“I have been wondering when someone was going to make an attempt,” Kelanis said. “You made it farther than I expected, to be perfectly honest. And I have no idea how a mimic managed to sneak past our wards.” He turned to the others.

“Kill them,” the king ordered and then walked away.

Teraeth looked over at Talon. “Truce?”

The mimic nodded. “Truce.”

Talon spun up a barrier just as the first wizards began their attack. Teraeth jumped behind the couch that had previously concealed the body of the king’s double. He turned himself invisible while weaving an illusion of himself scrambling to the other side of the room.

The wizards, meanwhile, had started off their attack by the time-honored but simple expedient of summoning a giant ball of lightning in the center of the room. A good start, Teraeth thought, for dealing with a mimic. If one could manage to short out the nervous system, it would probably be every bit as effective as the silver spike. Unfortunately, a giant ball of lightning was equally good at dealing with every other kind of nervous system—including his own.

Teraeth ducked under an arc of electricity as it tore an ugly gash across the bookcases. Teraeth levitated—a spell he usually used for making his way across nightingale floors—taking a few painful but no longer lethal shocks in the process. Teraeth spun the effect of being fully grounded on the phantasm of himself. He wasn’t sure if it was really going to fool the wizards, but it was always possible that they were too busy casting spells to take the time to pierce the illusion.

If so, then what they saw was Teraeth take a direct strike from the lightning and begin to convulse, his body temporarily locked rigid by the electricity.

The lightning bounced against Talon’s barrier. She’d evidently been expecting something like that and had taken appropriate precautions.

While Talon leaped at one of the royal guards, Teraeth came up behind the wizard controlling the lightning and put a knife through her throat. The mage next to her didn’t have time to react before he too was dying. Teraeth didn’t wait for their compatriots to put two and two together and start laying down spells capable of breaking his illusions. More guards would be on their way, and more wizards, and since this was the Manol, a great many of them would be both.

Teraeth reached to his neck, pulled away the glass orb that hung on a thread there, and crushed it underfoot.

Teraeth rather suspected Janel wouldn’t stop to go get Terindel, but she could at least create a diversion. She was, as she had pointed out, good at fire, and this was a tree.

He ran.

Teraeth heard shouting behind him. Teraeth wasn’t sure if that indicated that they’d caught Talon or they’d lost her. He wasn’t about to stop to check. He sprinted down the main hallway, heading toward the private kitchen. He absolutely didn’t expect to find an exit, but it accessed some of the servants’ passages, which meant there was at least a chance that he might slip by invisibly before anyone noticed.

A tentacle reached out, grabbed his waist, and caught him before could trip.

He sliced down with the knife, but another tentacle had already pinned him, pulling him into a side room.

Kihrin pushed him against the inside door. “Shh,” he said. “Quiet.”

Not Kihrin, of course. Teraeth knew better; Kihrin was with Thurvishar, chasing down alternatives. Also, the actual Kihrin didn’t have tentacles.

Any impulse to begin slicing with knives was undercut by the sound of running feet. Before he could respond, Talon reached out and pressed against a carved knot on the wall. A panel opened, leading into darkness.

“Come on, ducky,” Talon said. “If you want to get out of this alive, you’d better follow me.”