Chapters:

The Caves

Abergarth caves are a winding network of tunnels, carved out over the years by professors and students at the College to store their various caches, or simply to create extra storage space. Since most of them were dug independently from one another, they don't all intersect. There are probably some that remain secret to this day. Those that are connected form a haphazard maze, some cavernous, some barely large enough for a person to squeeze through; some doubling back on themselves, some leading nowhere. Some have collapsed or half-collapsed. Rumour has it that Vice-Dean Emrin has been petitioning for the caves to be properly mapped and surveyed for years, but has consistently been blocked by Governor Sauers. Since they pose a threat to safety, students are officially banned from entering them, but in practice the rule isn't strictly enforced. Sometimes new students will get drunk and dare one another to go in; the cave mouths are littered with graffiti and empty bottles, but most people don't go very far inside. Those who enter do so at their own risk, and the College refuses to be held responsible for them.

This last fact we learn from no less an authority than Sauers himself.

"Unfortunately," he says, the very picture of sincerity, "there's nothing we can do. The caves don't technically belong to the College, you know."

Alamanda bristles. "If they're public land, surely there's nothing to stop you searching."

"Are you suggesting that we form a search party and put more people at risk because you two have a hunch?"

"I'm suggesting that you do something about the fact that one of your students has disappeared," says Alamanda, sounding quietly furious. I hadn't realised she was so close to Murel - although perhaps it's her anti-authoritarian streak coming through more than any personal feelings.

"I'm afraid our hands are tied," says Sauers apologetically.

I can see the tension increase in Alamanda's shoulders as her power boils up inside her. Surely she's not going to challenge an experienced wizard? If I could put my hand on her arm, I would, but instead I dart in front of her.

"Can we search the caves ourselves?" I ask quickly.

"You know you're not supposed to go down there," he replies gently. Everything he says and does seems calculated to project empathy, but there's something rotten underneath. He makes my stomach turn.

"But you just said they don't belong to the College," Alamanda says behind me, sounding as though she's regained some control. "So surely you can't bar us entry?"

"No," he allows, "but you could certainly be expelled from the College, if you were so flagrantly to disregard our rules."

The message is clear. We're being warned off, and not subtly. "Understood," I say, before Alamanda can start pointlessly arguing again. I leave, with a significant glance at Alamanda, who is silently fuming. If I could physically pull her out of the room by her arm, I would.

*

"Tell me you're planning on going down there with me," she whispers as we reach the bottom of the stone staircase. It seems a little overcautious to me, but then I have no idea if Sauers has magically extended his hearing range, and the walls do echo here.

"No," I say, and continue before she can object, "I'll go down there myself. I've got a lot less to lose than you have if they expel you. Anyway, it's dangerous down there."

"I don't want to stay in a place where a student can go missing and nobody does a damn thing about it!" she hisses. "And what if something needs to be moved, or picked up? You'd be useless."

"Well at least I won't knock myself out on a low ceiling or get myself buried alive!" I mutter.

We glare at one another for a few moments. Predictably, I give in first.

"At least let me scout ahead."

"If you think you can do it without getting lost."

It's a fair comment, actually. My sense of direction here leaves an awful lot to be desired, like most of my other senses. Sometimes I'm as graceful (and airborne) as a hawk, sometimes I feel as though I'm jogging through molasses, or melting into the ground. Sometimes I phase in and out, lose hours, sometimes more. Sometimes I'll think I'm walking in a straight line, only to find myself back where I started. I'm supposed to be learning to control it, but it's an uphill climb. That I can have this conversation at all is progress.

"I'll be better than nothing," I point out mildly, refusing to get riled up. Alamanda and I have rubbed each other the wrong way from the start. Best to take the path of least resistance.

*

"Did you think there was something strange about Sauers?" I ask later, as Alamanda picks her way through a treacherous connecting passageway, and I hover uselessly in front.

"Apart from the fact that he's a revolting creep?"

"Well, exactly. Nobody with that much power should seem so off-putting, especially to people at our level. It was as though something was wrong with his glamour."

"I don't know," says Alamanda. "You're the glamour expert. Maybe he just doesn't think we're worth the bother."

"I'm not the expert," I put in, annoyed. "I just have a natural tendency towards it because -"

"Yes, all right," Alamanda cuts me off. "Can we stay focused on the task at hand, please?"

I don't want to drift too far away, although she's woven a charm which will supposedly keep me tied to her if I phase. It's not that I don't have faith in her charms exactly, but at this stage we all have as many failures as we do successes, and it's better safe than sorry.

"What were those mushrooms called that she kept going on about?" asks Alamanda.

"Trametes something?" I hazard.

"Any idea what they look like?"

"Absolutely none."

"Great," she mutters under her breath.

Instead of retorting, I inhale deeply. "Do you know any tracking spells?" I ask after a moment.

"If I did do you think I'd be crawling around getting my dress dirty?" she snaps.

I decide to stay silent. I am not sulking. I'm just refusing to lower myself to her level.

It's quiet, and awkward, for the next - I don't know how long. I might phase; it's hard to tell, since all the caves look roughly the same, and the only sounds are an occasional drip and Alamanda's footsteps. No natural light to gauge time by. If I do phase then the charm must work, because I'm not a foot away from Alamanda when she stops.

"See that?" she says.

"What, specifically?" I say, a little shortly.

"That shelf."

"Yes?" It's not the first shelf we've come across carved into one of the cave walls, with trinkets or rotting books or old, empty bottles on it. We gave them all a cursory glance and found little that seemed relevant.

"It's been disturbed, recently. Look."

She's right - most of the shelves were littered with dust and sand, some in cobwebs. Not this one. As I approach, though -

"Is it wavering for you? And do you hear the noise?"

Alamanda's reply is like a distant echo. I try to catch hold of her words, and let them anchor me, but it's too late. It's morning.