Read Online The Pogrom of Mages: The Healers of Glastamear: Volume One by Charles Williamson - Free Book Online
Authors: Charles Williamson
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five people. He finished his shopping with five good quality woolen blankets for sleeping in the rough, a mix of healing salves and bandages, and five black hooded capes that had been treated with wax to make them waterproof.
His final errand was to go to the waterfront and rent a small warehouse explaining that he was expecting a shipment from Southport within the week. He rented it for three months even though he might not use it but one night. He stored the food, blankets, medical supplies, and four of the hooded capes in the warehouse.
He ate an excellent dinner at the Inn of Splendid Dreams that included mutton stew, stuffed partridge, and leeks with autumn squash. After dinner he drank some south slope wine while he enjoyed the quartet of musicians who were the best he had ever heard. It was two hours after dark when he returned to his room. His first project was to enchant the rope ladder so that it was completely invisible. He hung it from his balcony so that the end fell into the protection of an evergreen bush that had been shaped to resemble a baby dragon.
He waited two more hours so that it was nearly midnight and then cast transparency on himself. The spell made him invisible as well as everything he was carrying. He put on his rucksack and climbed down the invisible rope ladder. He had no real experience at moving by stealth, and his main worry was that he would make a sound that would give his location away.
It was an hour past midnight when he followed a temple guard through an open door in the side of the temple and made his way behind the high altar in the enormous main prayer hall. Even in the middle of the night, Perry’s Fire still burned in the many sconces that illuminated the whole inside of the huge space. Twenty paces above the high altar a stained-glass window was dimly lit by Father Moon. Eight priests were still in the great temple space, but only one of them showed fire manna.
From his afternoon watch, he knew there was an entrance to the lower levels directly behind the back wall of the ornate altar enclosure. He used the spell Obert had taught him to unlock the iron door. It opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges, and he was soon sneaking down to the underworld of the interrogation rooms two stories below the great temple.
He moved down to the lowest level and was soon in a long corridor with heavy wooden doors on both sides at ten-pace intervals. He saw no sign of fire manna on the lower level, but three, burley, chain mail clad guards stood watch. One was at the far end of the hall and two stood by the door he would need to enter. Michael was a healer; he couldn’t kill these men in cold blood, no healer would. He moved silently between the two guards and used the spell surgery sleep using both hands to touch both men simultaneously. The third guard drew his sword and ran down the hall to see what had caused his fellows to collapse, and Michael touched him in turn. He had used enough manna to keep the three guards unconscious for eight to ten hours.
He found keys in at the guard’s belt, and carefully opened the door to the cell that held the manna signs of four healers. Near the door was a brazier glowing with sill-burning coals into which six metal torturers implement were thrust. At the far end of the room was an iron barred cage about two paces high and six paces deep. He recognized the gray-haired woman but not the two young apprentices. She was the Lady Agnes of Ice Castle, one of the most senior healers in the guild and a daughter one of the most important aristocratic families of the north.
He glanced to the right and gasped. Hanging from manacles bolted to the ceiling was the unconscious body of his best friend within the guild, Sir James Neville, fourth son of the baron of the Red Marshes.
Jim Neville had been an apprentice of William of Hearthshire Town when Michael began his studies. They had spent three year learning the healing arts together. Michael had helped Jim with
His final errand was to go to the waterfront and rent a small warehouse explaining that he was expecting a shipment from Southport within the week. He rented it for three months even though he might not use it but one night. He stored the food, blankets, medical supplies, and four of the hooded capes in the warehouse.
He ate an excellent dinner at the Inn of Splendid Dreams that included mutton stew, stuffed partridge, and leeks with autumn squash. After dinner he drank some south slope wine while he enjoyed the quartet of musicians who were the best he had ever heard. It was two hours after dark when he returned to his room. His first project was to enchant the rope ladder so that it was completely invisible. He hung it from his balcony so that the end fell into the protection of an evergreen bush that had been shaped to resemble a baby dragon.
He waited two more hours so that it was nearly midnight and then cast transparency on himself. The spell made him invisible as well as everything he was carrying. He put on his rucksack and climbed down the invisible rope ladder. He had no real experience at moving by stealth, and his main worry was that he would make a sound that would give his location away.
It was an hour past midnight when he followed a temple guard through an open door in the side of the temple and made his way behind the high altar in the enormous main prayer hall. Even in the middle of the night, Perry’s Fire still burned in the many sconces that illuminated the whole inside of the huge space. Twenty paces above the high altar a stained-glass window was dimly lit by Father Moon. Eight priests were still in the great temple space, but only one of them showed fire manna.
From his afternoon watch, he knew there was an entrance to the lower levels directly behind the back wall of the ornate altar enclosure. He used the spell Obert had taught him to unlock the iron door. It opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges, and he was soon sneaking down to the underworld of the interrogation rooms two stories below the great temple.
He moved down to the lowest level and was soon in a long corridor with heavy wooden doors on both sides at ten-pace intervals. He saw no sign of fire manna on the lower level, but three, burley, chain mail clad guards stood watch. One was at the far end of the hall and two stood by the door he would need to enter. Michael was a healer; he couldn’t kill these men in cold blood, no healer would. He moved silently between the two guards and used the spell surgery sleep using both hands to touch both men simultaneously. The third guard drew his sword and ran down the hall to see what had caused his fellows to collapse, and Michael touched him in turn. He had used enough manna to keep the three guards unconscious for eight to ten hours.
He found keys in at the guard’s belt, and carefully opened the door to the cell that held the manna signs of four healers. Near the door was a brazier glowing with sill-burning coals into which six metal torturers implement were thrust. At the far end of the room was an iron barred cage about two paces high and six paces deep. He recognized the gray-haired woman but not the two young apprentices. She was the Lady Agnes of Ice Castle, one of the most senior healers in the guild and a daughter one of the most important aristocratic families of the north.
He glanced to the right and gasped. Hanging from manacles bolted to the ceiling was the unconscious body of his best friend within the guild, Sir James Neville, fourth son of the baron of the Red Marshes.
Jim Neville had been an apprentice of William of Hearthshire Town when Michael began his studies. They had spent three year learning the healing arts together. Michael had helped Jim with
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