Free Sebastian by Anne Bishop Page B

was a surly young man who closed the book he'd been reading and folded his hands over it.
    The badge he wore on his robe declared him a second-level wizard to anyone who knew what the symbols stood for.
    "I need to see Wizard Koltak," Sebastian said.
    "It's late," the young wizard snapped. "Wizard Koltak isn't on duty this evening to see petitioners. Take a seat and I'll see who—"
    "Nevertheless, Koltak will see me."
    The wizard looked outraged. "And who are you?"
    "Sebastian. From the Den of Iniquity."
    The surly look gave way to fascinated revulsion. So. This one had heard the stories that had been whispered in the student quarters—and perhaps still were. A lesson for the lusty and foolish.
    The wizard grabbed a small piece of parchment from the stack on the corner of his desk. Snatching up the quill and dipping it into the inkwell, he didn't notice that he dribbled ink on the desk's gleaming wood.
    Hurried scribbles. The ink barely had time to dry before the wizard folded the parchment and shouted,
    "Boy!"
    A boy dozing on a bench close to the desk scrambled to answer the summons. The folded parchment was handed off, and the boy dashed out the door in the back of the room.
    Your pen dribbles. A simple phrase that held a wealth of meanings when an incubus said it. It was tempting to see if this young wizard would find the call of an incubus more alluring than that of a succubus, but he already had enough enemies among the wizards.
    So he just gave the wizard a lazy smile that suggested traveling to reach this place wasn't the reason he looked disheveled.
    A few minutes later, the boy dashed back into the room, breathless, and handed a folded piece of parchment to the wizard. The man looked startled as he read the command, but he said, "The boy will lead you."

    Giving the wizard an insolent salute, Sebastian followed the boy out the back door and across the courtyard. Instead of going through the door of the main building, the boy turned to the right and led him to another door.
    The hair on the back of Sebastian's neck rose as he noticed that the windows on either side of the door had a queer sparkle in places where the light from the courtyard lamps touched the glass. Wooden shutters were folded back on the outside of the windows.
    The boy pushed the door open and entered the dark space.
    Sebastian heard the clink of glass against metal, then the scrape of a match. Staying in the doorway, he watched the boy light the candle and replace the globe over the metal candleholder.
    When the boy turned to leave, Sebastian stepped into the room to let him pass. But when the boy reached for the handle to pull the door closed, some instinct made Sebastian grab the wood and growl,
    "Leave it open."
    The boy bolted into the night.
    Not sure why he'd responded that way, Sebastian looked at the door—and felt a shiver run down his spine.
    No handle on this side. No way for a person inside this room to open the door.
    Slipping his pack from his shoulder, he set it against the door and went over to one of the windows, alert for any sound in the courtyard.
    Thick glass that extended into the stone. A mesh of wire embedded in the glass. Even if someone managed to break the glass, he still wouldn't be able to escape through a window.
    Turning, Sebastian studied the room. A table, two chairs, and the globed candleholder. No other visible means of exiting the room, although there probably was a hidden door or other kind of opening.
    What it all meant was that once the door was closed, the only way a person could leave this room was if someone on the outside opened the door.
    His hands trembled as he went back to the door and picked up his pack. After settling it over his shoulder, he shifted so his back wasn't completely exposed to the courtyard. At least he'd have some warning if someone tried to rush him and shove him into the room.
    A scrape of boot on stone. Sebastian scanned the courtyard. The place looked so open, but the lamplight