Still so many…
“Lord Ulf is not weakening,” Gerrod continued. “The wraiths were only the beginning. He’s been waiting for nightfall, for his wraith legion to drive us tighter and tighter together.”
“Why?”
“Whatever icy Grace protected Eylan, it must not be limitless. Or else he would have used it to shield the wraiths already. I suspect it is an arrow best shot with some marksmanship.”
Kathryn understood. “He intends to have us all confined to one place.”
“So to inflict a killing blow,” Argent said.
Gerrod nodded. “And when that ice comes and we lose the flames of our lower levels, it will open our other flank, where Mirra awaits. Wraiths above, daemons below, and ice all around.”
Argent stepped back, the fire in him kicked to ashes. “When?” he asked, knowing this was the most important question.
Gerrod merely turned to the window-and the setting sun.
Kathryn stared out the window as the darkness deepened.
“We’ll never last ’til dawn,” Argent muttered.
The pyre spit and hissed, scattering sparks toward the roof. The barred door glowed in the flames, revealing every grain in stark relief, as if the fire did not tolerate any shadows.
“To the center of the room,” Orquell ordered, waving his hand.
Laurelle shifted to obey, crowded by Kytt and Delia.
“Stay there until I tell you otherwise,” Orquell said, stepping toward the door.
The other three pyres in the room’s corners caught the excitement of the first and danced higher. Soon the room shone as brightly as a summer day.
Laurelle glanced at her toes, avoiding the flaring glare. She noted that none of them cast any shadows on the floor. With flames burning on all four sides, they were bathed in light from all directions.
She remembered Master Orquell’s earlier words.
Every flame casts a shadow.
Orquell reached to the door’s bar and lifted it free.
“What are you doing?” Delia asked harshly. Suspicion still rang sharply in her.
“We invited the witch here. It would be impolite to refuse her now.”
Orquell tugged on the latch and fought the stubborn hinges to pry the door open. Beyond the threshold, the dark hall waited.
The unnaturalness of the shadows was plain to all. The blaze of the pyre failed to penetrate the darkness, as if the hallway were flooded to the roof with black water.
Orquell stepped back and beckoned. “Castellan Mirra, please come inside. Your black ghawls will have to remain without, of course. The flames here will not let them pass.”
“What do you want, rub-aki?” a reedy voice asked from the darkness. “Your flames foul the hallways here.”
“Ah yes, my rys-mor, the living flames.” He waved to encompass the pyres. “Born from a powder of crushed lavantheum, bearing the blood of four aspects-it attracts them, does it not? Where ordinary flame chases them off with warmth and brightness, my flames are like the fresh beating and bloody heart of the most delicious prey. They can’t stay away. In fact, I wager they are being a bit stubborn about obeying your wishes. Of course, eventually they will, but it will take much effort and concentration on your part.”
“Why are you interfering? Takaminara has never meddled in the affairs of the outer world.”
Orquell took another step back, bowing slightly. “Exactly. So fear not my threshold. I swear your safety here.”
Laurelle heard Delia hiss under her breath.
The darkness parted and a gray-haired old woman slipped out and into the firelight, dressed in a robe, sashed at the waist. She seemed more a kindly great-mother, maybe a bit stern around the edges, but certainly no witch. She entered the room, leaning on a smooth cane. It was only once she stepped across that Laurelle saw her cane was actually some creature’s legbone, carved with Littick sigils.
“Again, what do you want, rub-aki?”
“A bargain for my safe passage. Nothing more. Allow me to reach the central stair, and I’ll douse my flames. You know the word of a rub-aki is inviolate. We cannot go back on our oath.”
“And I also know that the rub-aki are skilled at using their words to the fullest and in a most sly manner.”
“Then I’ll speak plain. I walk”-he mimicked a man walking with two fingers across his open palm-“and once I reach the stairs, I’ll douse all of my pyres. I will tell no one of your presence. But betray me and I’ll use my dying breath like a bellow to fan my four pyres. You won’t like that.”
Mirra studied Orquell, attempting to see a trap.
“To sweeten the deal,” he pressed, “I offer you these three to take.”
He waved over to them.
“What?” Delia snapped and lunged a step forward.
Laurelle grabbed her elbow, instinctively. The master had told them not to leave the room’s center for any reason. He had also asked for their trust. Delia fought her hold. Only then did Laurelle realize Delia was feigning her struggle, for the show of it. Still, Laurelle also read a vein of real suspicion in Delia’s eye.
Could they truly trust this one?
Orquell ignored them. “As you’ve said, servants of Takaminara have no concerns for the wider world. I have no use for these three-a wyld tracker and two Hands.”
Mirra’s eyes shifted closer to study them, stepping to the side to view them better.
Orquell leaned slightly, assuming a pose similar to Mirra’s.
“And not just any Hands,” he added. “But the Hands of Tylar ser Noche, regent of Chrismferry. I believe you are still searching for him.”
Delia swore, almost raising a blush on Laurelle’s cheek with her sudden and vitriolic vulgarity.
“And for assurance, I’ll cross to the stairs without raising any fire, so that you may feel safer. This I swear. I will trust your darkness to cloak us and seal our bargain.”
Mirra was plainly tempted, weighing the odds of just taking them. But there were risks in attacking a master of fire. Finally she spoke slowly, summarizing the bargain. “So if I allow you to proceed to the main stair, you’ll raise no fire against me, tell no one of my presence, and once you are free, you’ll stanch your pyres.”
He nodded.
“And I can take these three,” she added firmly.
“I will not stop you. All this I swear on my crimson eye.”
Mirra surveyed the room one more time. A bell echoed from some distance away, marking the passage of time. Finally, she nodded. “So be it. You are sworn safe passage.”
Orquell bowed. He crossed to each pyre, spread a bit of powder, and whispered over it. He returned to the door. “The flames will obey my will. Once safe, I will extinguish them.”
“Then let us be off. Sunset draws near.”
“I want my hostages kept close,” he said. “No slipping them off in the dark. I will know.”
She waved her arm impatiently.
Orquell raised a palm to the pyre by the door and lowered his hand. The flames died down, while the others still flickered brighter. With no light ahead, Laurelle saw their shadows stretch toward the open doorway. Once they crossed the threshold, the darkness surged inside, sweeping around with a rustle of cloth.
They were forced to follow Orquell. As soon as they stepped over the threshold, all light vanished. Laurelle gasped at the suddenness of it, as if someone had slammed the door on the firelit room behind them.
She reached out a hand and touched a warm body. Kytt found her hand and grabbed it. Delia bumped against her, then their hands were locked. Together they were ushered ahead, surrounded by a darkness that stirred.
They followed a zigzagging path that had Laurelle all turned around. She remembered Orquell’s description of a darkness so complete it strained the eye to the point of blindness. Her eyes ached, searching for light.