Hissing black steel knocked it aside when she thrust. Gargan was there, sword drawn, and he and the elf locked blades and stares, waging a private battle. Their swords sparked against each other, bubbling acid hissing on the hot steel. The light flickering above her, like a hissing sun, plunged her face into light and shadow.
Liet shivered. From their stares, it was clear a life would be lost should it come to blows, and knowing Gargan's strength, it would likely be hers. The goliath didn't try to break her parry, only hold her sword back. If he attacked, maybe she could dodge, then riposte, perhaps, and…
What was he thinking? Had the world gone mad?
"Please!" Slip moaned. "Don't let this happen! Please!"
"Silence, traitor," hissed Twilight without taking her eyes off Gargan.
"Come, Twilight," said Davoren. As he spoke, he inched his way toward Slip, lying huddled and helpless. "Together we can slay them. We no longer need their aid."
The elf should have retorted but she did not, causing Liet to gape. Was she considering it?
Liet looked at Davoren. Lightning crackled around the warlock's scepter and flames licked his hands. Liet realized that if he did nothing, one of his friends would die.
And with that realization, something snapped inside him.
All the times he had watched Twilight confront the warlock fearlessly, all the wry smiles, throwing herself over Slip, all the memories of Twilight's courage came back to him in a single white-hot moment of bravery, and swelled into something inside that Liet had never imagined.
"No," he commanded. He stepped in Davoren's way.
All other sound in the cavern withered into silence. Twilight stared at him.
The warlock snickered, but Liet stayed firm. "I won't say it again."
"I see." Davoren slit his eyes. "The boy thinks he's pretty enough and wily enough to split our fearsome leader, so that makes him worthwhile, eh? Allow me to explain how that isn't-"
"Enough talk," said Liet. He drew his battered, chipped sword and pointed it at Davoren's face. "You want to kill us, do you? Then do it now."
"Suddenly he's become brave," Davoren said, irritation in his eyes.
"Only braver than a coward," said Liet.
The warlock's eyes burned at him and his face contorted. Flames licked about fingers curled into talons. Davoren's face promised swift death and-
And went pale. The warlock's eyes widened, he backed away, and his gaze slid from Liet, as though he saw something that genuinely frightened him. He backed away and those red eyes showed real terror, and… something else. Pain. Hurt.
Liet felt a tingle in the back of his mind. Was this ability to frighten the warlock, whose unholy power dwarfed Liet's mediocre swordsmanship, a manifestation of that potential Twilight saw in him? Did he have a sorcerer's potential? Was he a hero?
He realized it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had stood between Davoren and Slip, and the warlock backed down. Now he posed no threat to…
"Twilight!" Liet said suddenly. She spun where she stood, facing both halfling and goliath with sword drawn, murderous fury in her eyes. "Don't do this! Slip's innocent! We all are! There's no spy! You're being ridiculous!"
"Lies," Twilight growled. "You all passed the test. She's the only one who could have escaped-the only one whose word wasn't tested. She's a liar and a traitor! She's the only one it could be! The only one!"
No, Twilight, she's not, Liet thought suddenly. She's the only one except-
"Except yourself, filliken," Davoren said. Liet glared and the warlock receded as before, but he kept a hand on the scepter at his waist.
A trifle unnerved but more worried for Twilight, Liet turned back only to see that the damage had been done. Twilight had gone paler than usual and her lip trembled, fighting against a cruel thought-a grave doubt. Liet felt his heart clench in his chest, torn between love and not a little fear that maybe, just maybe, the warlock was right.
Perhaps she saw it in Liet's eyes, or perhaps she thought the same. Her shoulders slumped and all emotion vanished from her face. She appraised Liet more as a dull blade than a companion, or even a living thing, and his stomach knotted.
"Very well," she said slowly. "The halfling may indeed be innocent, but-"
"Thank you, Mistress!" Slip threw herself down and kissed Twilight's ragged boots. "Thank-"
Twilight shoved the halfling away with a foot, eyeing her. "But I won't trust her."
"I'll watch her," Liet volunteered.
"No." Twilight shook her head.
"I," Gargan rumbled, drawing gazes from the other four. "I watch."
The silence lasted a long breath before Twilight finally nodded. "Very well," she said. "But you will watch her close, blade to hand."
"Blade to hand," Gargan repeated.
She turned away, casting Liet an angry glare, and slipped into the smithy. That gaze both thanked and warned him.
Unable to stand it, he looked away and thought he saw another of those black hands-with the eye in its palm-reaching out of a wall opposite the smithy. When he looked hard, it was gone.
Liet suppressed a chill.
The length of a candle later, Twilight sat naked, alone, and crying.
They had moved from the Forge into a larger complex, nearer the center of the city. With Twilight's talents at stealth leading them, they had evaded the bees who came to investigate the shouts. This new building-a mansion, by comparison-might well have belonged to Nega himself, the high arcanist. Twilight didn't really care. It may as well have been hers now. Its wards and defenses had failed (clearly not the mythallar's priorities) and possession of the manse, as in all things, passed to the strong and alive.
Twilight had found an ancient bedchamber for herself-complete with an eerie floating bed of withered velvet, powered by the mythallar. She had stripped off her worn, ochre-stained garments, feeling filthy in them, and flung herself on the blankets, daring them to crack and disintegrate. They had not, and there she remained.
Though the room was far from the others, she did not mind. In fact, it suited her, for here she could scream and curse in privacy, without any of them thinking her mad.
Not that she did so. The day was more one for weeping than for expressions of fury.
Her tears had formed a damp spot on the bed cover nearly the size of a buckler when the door opened of its own accord-magic, of course. She wondered what manner of monster had come to slay her. Fiendish lizards, perhaps, or one of the bees. Maybe even the troll, though she imagined she would have smelled Tlork's approach. Perhaps even whatever beast had attacked her in the night, unless that had been a nightmare. She didn't know-she didn't know anything anymore.
" 'Light?" came a soft, hurt voice.
A sigh. It was far worse than any of the possibilities she had considered.
"Why do you frown, love?" Liet stepped forward, undeterred by her discontent-yet another aspect of him she loved and loathed. "It makes you too pretty."
She wouldn't take the bait. Twilight just looked away. He stepped closer, seating himself on the edge of the bed. She let him disrobe, stripping to his smallclothes, and his shirt, of course. He reached to embrace her.
"Surely this incident has told you-"
Twilight shoved him and he tumbled out of the free-floating bed. Liet landed on his bottom with an unceremonious thump. He looked so adorable-and pounceable-but she ignored that observation.
"There are three possibilities," said Twilight, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "One, that it is Slip."
"That's out," said Liet. He rose, winced, and dusted himself off. The stone must have been cold under his bare feet. Twilight couldn't say she objected to the view, and for that reason she cursed him again.
"Two," she continued. "One among us can defeat her spell and my sense."