Sarabande: River of Falcons Book 4

51. Magus's Cave

The search parties had been sent out of Sorcerers' Keep at dawn. Soon his footsteps were found heading off into the forest, and Atratus had lead a party of apprentices after them, but the trail ended on the bank of a little stream that wound through thick woods. The other side of the stream was a tangle of brambles, and Atratus did not think Magus had gone there. But where had he gone? It also seemed unlikely to Atratus that Magus would have waded up or down the stream. It would have been an unpleasant way to travel and the only point of it would have been to conceal his tracks. But why not fly if he hadn't wanted to be followed? Atratus could not make any sense of it.

When the search parties came back empty-handed, Nautilus was waiting in the Council Chamber for their reports, seated in the High Mage's chair. Atratus and Crag exchanged irritated looks. Atratus cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, witch, but why are you sitting at the head of the table?"

Nautilus scowled at him, then turned to Abdera, who was sitting to her right. "Do you think Atratus is questioning my authority? Because if he is, it would be a clear case of insubordination and I would need to deal with it severely, don't you think?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Abdera said. "Discipline is especially important in an emergency such as this."

Atratus and Crag exchanged another look, and Crag said, "Now, now, Nautilus. There's no need to squabble. We all have the same goal in mind. We need to find out what has happened to Magus. Until then, there's no point in arguing over who sits where. I'm sure Atratus didn't mean anything by it."

Nautilus scowled. "Of course he did! He thinks he's next in line. But he's not."

Atratus stood up, his face flushed with anger and said, "If you have something to say to me, say it to my face."

"Sit down, old man," Nautilus said dismissively. "And stop shouting. We've had enough excitement already, what with the trunk and wagon disappearing and that horrible girl using time-spells against us."

"I said," Atratus repeated slowly, glaring at her from where he stood, "Why are you sitting in the head seat? We ought to leave it vacant until Magus returns."

Nautilus stood, too. "Do you want to test yourself against me, Atratus?" she said. "Because if you do, I'm happy to step outside and see who is strongest. But I warn you, no one who challenges me will live to see the sun set."

As Nautilus and Atratus glared at each other, an apprentice rushed through the door with a little role of parchment in his hand. "A message for Nautilus," he said. "It just arrived by carrier pigeon."

Nautilus gave Atratus one last angry glance, then turned and took the paper from the apprentice's hand. "Don't call me by my name, underling," she hissed. "Call me Old One!" As the apprentice backed nervously away, she unrolled the message and frowned over it, then she crumpled it in her hand and murmured a fire-starting charm. It burst into flame, and she threw it to the floor. "I'll be back in a little while. When the rest of them arrive, go ahead and start the council meeting. I'll rejoin you as soon as I can." She turned toward the nearest big arched window. Stepping onto the sill, she spread her arms and began to shift. Soon her customary Condor form and was swooping off into the distance.

"What did the note say?" Atratus demanded.

The apprentice shrugged. "I didn't read it," he explained. "It said 'Private' on it."

"You idiot! Always read private correspondence whenever you possibly can."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Someone had better follow her," Crag suggested.

"Good idea," Atratus said. "You two, and you three over there, all of you, quickly, after her." The designated apprentices shifted into crows and sped out the window.