Free The Wizardwar by Elaine Cunningham Page A

the wizard what he had taught.
    “Defense against battle wizards. Why?”
    “That is a particular interest of mine. In the future, perhaps we could discuss it? That is, if you remember much from your years at the Jordaini College.”
    The perpetual twinkle in Basel’s eyes dimmed. “Isn’t there a jordaini proverb about memory being a curse as well as a blessing?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    The wizard’s smile was brief and bleak. “There should be.”
     

     
    Basel’s words followed Matteo into the palace dungeons. Just days before, he had delivered a prisoner to this place-a fellow jordain, and his oldest friend. The memory of that felt very much like a curse.
    The corridors were uncommonly quiet and dark, and the light of Matteo’s torch seemed to push uncertainly at the darkness. He rounded a corner and almost stumbled over a large, huddled form. He stooped over a particularly burly guard and touched his neck. Life pulsed beneath his fingers, faint but steady. Only a very skilled fighter could drop an armed man without harming him. That meant Matteo’s quarry had passed this way.
    The jordain stood and walked cautiously toward the archway leading into the next corridor. He dug a handful of flour from his bag and tossed a bit of it at the arch. No telltale streaks of light appeared amid the brief flurry of powder.
    The jordain frowned. As queen’s counselor, he’d made a point of learning palace defenses. This door should have been warded with a powerful web of magic.
    He bent down and ran his hands over the smooth stone floor. There was a faint, gritty residue on the stone, a crystalline powder mingling with the flour. Matteo sniffed at the crystals clinging to his fingers and caught a faint, sharp scent.
    “Mineral salts,” he muttered. He rose and headed toward the eastern dungeon at a run.
    Andris’s cell was far below a mineral spring that served the palace bathhouse. Over the years, water had seeped through dirt and stone and left almost imperceptible deposits on the walls. Mineral salts were simple and common but powerful in knowledgeable hands. Certain witches used salt to contain magic within boundaries or to ward off magical attacks. Wizards used crystals to focus and amplify magical energy. Crystals could also scatter such energy. Mineral salts, hundreds of tiny crystals scattered in just the right place and at precise times, could disrupt certain spells. Andris possessed such knowledge.
    After the battle of the Nath, Andris had yielded himself up to Matteo willingly, almost remorsefully. Why was he trying to escape now?
    Matteo sprinted to the cell. As he’d anticipated, the door was ajar. A large key drooped from the lock, and two senseless guards sat propped up against the bars. He picked up a water pitcher from a large trestle table and dashed the contents into the guards’ faces. The two men came awake sputtering.
    He seized one of the guards by the shoulder and gave him a brisk shake. “Your prisoner has escaped. Tell me, how was he brought in?”
    “The gargoyle maze,” the guard muttered, massaging his temples with both hands.
    “Sound an alarm, and send guards down the main gargoyle corridor. Tell them to extinguish the torches behind them as they go. They are to veer off into the moat passages and allow themselves to be heard doing so.”
    The guard struggled to take this in. “That leaves the long corridor unguarded.”
    “Leave that to me,” Matteo said.
    He got the men on their way. The trestle table was cluttered with gaming dice and empty mugs. He swept these aside and picked up the unattached table top. He balanced it on his head and walked quietly toward the end of the main gargoyle corridor-which, not incidentally, came close to the grated sewer tunnels, and the dungeon’s best hope of escape.
    The corridor was dark, and the faint smoky scent of extinguished torches lingered. Matteo kicked the heavy oak door at the end of the hall, closing it and throwing the hall