"No, no, no," I whispered, trying not to look down into the impossible void between my current position and the next relatively whole step, a span large enough that I would have to completely overbalance to shift my weight upward. "A plague on all Builders who believe their works are eternal."
I stood there for a year, it seemed, considering retreat, considering my purpose, trying to convince myself that I felt Prince Ven'Dar's life in that cold dead tower so this would not all go for naught. I wished for courage and longed for Gerick's strength and agility to shore up my own. Give all of yourself , I had told him. How pompous! How easy to give such advice when not staring your own demons in the face. And now Gerick was off with the Zhid, treading the very brink of his fears. And truly, he had a great deal more to fear than I did. Death was simple. Had he fallen from that brink or did he hold true?
I stretched my left foot toward the next worn stone, barely able to touch it with the ball of my foot. Pushing off with my left hand and right foot, I lunged forward and up. Though my stomach remained somewhere behind me, I got my weight over the step, fell forward, and grabbed the next step, bringing the right foot up beside the left.
Keeping my eyes narrowly focused on the next step, convincing myself that the handholds in the cracks and crevices could truly prevent a fall, I half climbed, half crawled up that devil's staircase in the dark and the rain. For every interminable moment, I told myself that if Gerick could make accommodation with his deepest terror to accomplish our purpose, then I, a daughter of Avonar, could surely deal with mine.
After a while, the cold rain washed all such considerations out of me. That staircase became my whole world.
My cold left hand clawed at the stone wall as I stared at the step in front of me, pressing my numb mind to tell me why things looked so different. I dared not turn my head to look in any direction but forward. The wind whipped my wet hair into my eyes. The next step was wider. Longer, too. The curve of the wall to my left was less pronounced. And the sound of the rain had changed. A lower, more solid sound than the pattering of drops on my head and shoulders. Holding absolutely still, as if the shift of an eyelash would upset my balance, I flicked my gaze upward. A roof! Emboldened, I flicked my gaze left. An armspan from my scraped knuckles was the threshold of a roughly rectangular opening.
Carefully, refocusing my eyes on the step, I moved my left foot up and forward. Shifted my hand to the edge of the door opening and stepped up. Clutching the ragged stone, and taking my first full breath in at least an hour, I peered into a tiny dark room. The three rectangular window openings had no shutters or panes, and gusts of rain splattered on the stone floor.
"If you tell me you've traversed the Skygazer's Stair to rescue me," said the hoarse voice from the interior, "I shall sing your praises from every mount in Gondai."
The poor man was drenched and shivering, chained to the wall with a steel shackle about one ankle, his limbs bound so tightly with dolemar rope that I doubted he'd been able to make use of the wine flask or the basket of sodden bread that sat on the floor an arm's length away.
"Best save your singing until we've got you down from this place, Your Grace," I said, as I dropped to my knees and set to sawing at the tough silver cord about his scored wrists.
"You're not just an illusion, telling me what I want to hear? Last I heard I was no longer anyone's prince. More disgrace than grace, one might say."
"I've a number of things to tell you that you're not going to want to hear. You might rather I were an illusion." I freed his hands, throwing the scraps of rope across the room.
He shook his hands and worked his fingers, smiling and grimacing all at once. "Ah, no, mistress. You are a most welcome reality. If you had come by way of a portal, the Lady's enchantments would have prevented your seeing me. So even if anyone had thought of searching this place, it would have done me no good. I was beginning to fear I would be but more dust in these crevices before some adventurous child attempted the stair and . . ."
He suffered a coughing spasm that he finished off with a huge sneeze before he could go on. I handed him the wine flask and applied my knife to another set of bindings.
After a long drink, he pushed the dripping hair from his eyes and rubbed his wrists. "Some weeks ago the perceptive Mistress Aimee told me a story of a young woman of strong opinion who had arrived at her house uninvited and left it as a most valuable ally, astonishing even Lady Seriana into speechless wonder. Might you possibly be this person of startling reputation?"
His kind humor held no trace of mockery. Though I could not forget that this man had ruled Avonar for five years and walked D'Arnath's Bridge, I felt no awe in his presence—not as I had when Gerick's father had parted the crowd at the hospice. Perhaps because I still thought of Prince D'Natheil as a dead hero come to life in our need. Perhaps because Prince Ven'Dar wore only a bedraggled dressing gown. "They arrested me straight from my bed," he said when he saw me staring at his bare, dirty feet. ,
"For better or worse, I am that same Jen'Larie, a stubborn Builder's assessor who got involved in affairs far beyond her capacities." I sawed at the turns of silver cord about his legs as he pulled away the five turns of rope I'd cut through at his thighs. "I'm sorry I've nothing warm or dry to offer you. Only bad news. And I don't know enough about matters of succession to say if you're still a prince or not."
"I believe I know the worst," he said, his smile fading. "I saw the flares when the wall defenses triggered, and I heard the bells. The balefires burn?"
"They do." I eyed the shackle that linked his left ankle to the wall. "I'll try to pick this lock, but if it's heavily enchanted . . ."
"No need to spend your time or effort," he said, throwing off the last bindings I had cut from his legs. "Give me a moment, and stand back a little." He laid a hand on the lock and closed his eyes.
Of course. Now he was free of the dolemar, he could call upon his talent and power.
I moved toward the doorway, then thought better of it and stepped over to one of the three square window openings. Better to have something to hold on to when I looked out. But my discomforts soon paled to insignificance.
Avonar was burning. Not just scarlet balefires or the illusory blue-white sheets of triggered warnings, but pockets of garish orange flames and billowing black smoke throughout the lower city. At least three of the Sillvain bridges were alight, and the armory—the great warehouse where enchanted swords and ever-sharp lances and pikes had been stored for generations— burned as well. From the dark line of the city wall, marked by the balefires on the five towers, pinpricks of light—handlights or torches—spread southerly into the night for as far as I could see, an ocean of warriors.
Though impossible to see at such a distance in the night and the rain, I knew the eyes of those warriors were cold and empty, and I knew the tide had only just begun to run.
"Hurry, my lord prince," I whispered. "For Avonar and Gondai, hurry."
Sprink ! The sharp rattle of metal made me jump.
I helped him stand, a matter of such difficulty I began to wonder if I would have better spent my time finding Gerick or searching out someone else to help us.
"Ah, that stings," he said, resting his hands on his knees and letting his head droop. "It will take a little time to get the blood flowing in my more remote parts. Time you must use, brave Jen'Larie, to tell me how you found me, why you could possibly have doubts about my status, and what you know of the precarious state of this kingdom."