“Your arcanist is buried in the Underdark,” Tam said flatly.
“No,” Mira said, “the stream originates in the Underdark. The cavern’s deep into the mountain, but it doesn’t go down that far, as well as anyone knows.”
“Who goes in and out of a flooded cavern?” Farideh asked. Mira pursed her mouth, as if she had been hoping no one would ask that.
“Cultists,” she admitted. “At least that’s the tale the locals are telling. But it’s highly unlikely they’re much of a presence. As I said, the cavern floods. Besides … there’s a goodly sized population of funguses.”
Tam didn’t speak for a moment. “Tell me,” he said, “that you mean mushrooms.”
“Ah, no. The monstrous sort.”
“Excellent. Well, I wasn’t convinced there were enough of us to uncover a lost ruin. I’m certainly unconvinced we’ve enough forces to fight our way through cave monsters that blend into the walls and then uncover a lost ruin.” He drew a hand over his sparse beard. “We need more help.”
Mira shrugged, as if he had suggested they needed to pack more waybread. “Surely that would be better-but we don’t have the time to seek that out. Pernika and Maspero were dear enough to come by-what do you think we can do before our friend, Master Rhand, starts trailing us? If he hasn’t already.” She gave Farideh a significant look. Farideh looked away.
“He doesn’t have the page,” Tam said. “He hasn’t seen the schema.”
“But he has the stone,” Mira said. “And so he can match the rock where we cannot. And we cannot be sure of what he’s seen or not seen.”
“All the more reason to gather more reinforcements.”
“If we wait,” she said, “then we leave the cavern open for Shade to find. The more we delay, the more likely it is that Rhand will coax information from the resources he does have and beat us there. Maybe even track us down here in Everlund. And which is more dangerous?
“Besides,” Mira said more gently, “all we’re doing is assessing the site. If it turns out to be full of phantom funguses and mad cultists or Shadovar historians, of course we’ll come right back and call for those reinforcements. But if we don’t look into it, we’ll have no idea how to prepare.”
Tam said nothing, but glowered at the map-covered table for several moments. “I need to speak with someone,” he said. “Farideh, go lie down.” He left the room, Mira watching after him.
Perhaps she’s a Harper too, Farideh thought. Surveying skills might serve a guard well, perhaps even a little knowledge of ancient history-but Mira seemed to have more of both than strictly necessary. And a skill for influence she didn’t bother hiding.
Farideh had not yet broached to Tam the topic of her coming along, already too certain he would refuse. She needed to stay, he’d undoubtedly say, where she could rest. Where there was little chance of cultists, funguses, and mad-eyed Shadovar breaking his promise to Mehen, however coerced that had been.
But Mira …
“That was clever,” Farideh ventured. “How you figured out where to look. Piecing all those things together.”
Mira’s eyes didn’t leave the door. “It’s what I do.”
“Do you think he’ll let you go?”
“Of course. The trick,” Mira said, “is to mention Shade. I suspect that might be the only thing he’s really afraid of.”
“Aren’t you?” Farideh asked. After all, if nothing else was clear about her, it was apparent Mira knew a great deal more about Netheril and the more ancient version that had birthed it than anyone Farideh had met.
Mira smiled softly. “Not really. The Empire of Shade is a danger, of course, but they’re not fools. And as long as your enemies listen to reason, well, they’re practically allies.” Her dark eyes flicked over Farideh’s bare mark. “You know that well, I suspect.”
Farideh fought the urge to cover the brand, to rub it as if she could rub the scars back into her skin. “You make it sound as if you work for them.”
Mira laughed. “Broken planes, no. Shade is for zealots. I merely think there’s good mixed in with the bad-maybe not much, but there’s something there. Nobody’s perfect, and no kingdom is an unremitting horror.”
And a pact is a tool, Farideh thought, not a damnation. “As long as you’re careful,” she added, as much to her own thoughts as to Mira’s words.
“That goes without saying,” Mira replied with an uneven grin.
“And this … cavern?” Farideh asked. “This Tarchamus-closer to perfect or unremitting horror?”
“Ah,” Mira said, a zeal in her voice that Shade couldn’t tap, “that’s the question isn’t it? What lasted to the current age suggests it could be either. One reference makes it sound as if he was often arguing with the other High Mages of Netheril, implying that their courses of study were bound to doom them all-which they did, eventually. The other … well, let’s say Tarchamus could have used some other arcanist telling him to stop ripping holes in planes.”
“What sort of planes?” Farideh said too quickly.
Mira gave her a curious look, and Farideh blushed a little. “I mean,” she said, “dangerous planes? Or … more like planes one would visit?”
“Dangerous,” Mira said. “Somewhere fiery for certain. He’s supposed to have created a spell that made a flame powerful enough to burn one of their floating cities from the sky by opening a gateway to someplace.”
Farideh wet her lips. “Whatever you find is going to be astounding, isn’t it?” she said. “I’d like to see that.”
Mira considered her a moment. “That fellow, Dahl-he’s been showing you rituals.”
“Only as many as he has to. He’s not a terribly patient teacher,” she explained, when Mira arched an eyebrow. “But some, yes.”
“Did he show you any that decipher languages?”
“That was first,” Farideh said. “I can read Draconic already. If it helps.”
Mira shrugged. “Who knows? But I will need clever hands and strong backs. Uncovering a site like this-with the limits having that scoundrel on our heels creates-it’s a lot of work.”
“If I come,” Farideh said, “then you’ll have my sister as well. She can’t cast the ritual, but she’ll be useful at clearing the space-of rubble or of creatures.”
Mira nodded to herself a moment. “Fair enough. And your Mehen? Will he worry?”
Yes, Farideh thought, terribly. And for a moment, she thought about telling Mira to forget the offer, she couldn’t run off like that, especially when Mehen was taking so long to come back from Cormyr. You can hardly carry a weapon through the wilds without the proper writ. She took a deep breath-Mehen was fine. Lorcan was the one in trouble.
“He’s supposed to contact Tam. So if Tam’s along with you … we can simply return the message that it’s all fine.” And then deal with the consequences afterward, she thought.
“Then that all sounds perfect,” said Mira.
“There’s just Tam,” Farideh said.
Mira leaned back over the map, taking up a pair of calipers and setting them along a planned path. “Don’t worry. I’ll convince him.” Farideh smiled. Perfect. “How is it you know Tam?”
Mira’s calipers stopped.
“He didn’t mention?” she asked. Then, “No, of course he didn’t. It’s exactly the sort of thing he’d forget to say. Three damned days, and he never says a word. Just assumes it’s been handled.” She slammed the calipers down on the table. “Gods.”
“I’m sure it’s just that things are so hectic,” Farideh said quickly. “Whatever it is, I didn’t mean-”
“He’s my father,” Mira said. She looked up at Farideh, the same lazy smile she always seemed to wear painted on her mouth, covering up all trace of her outburst. “Did you think we were colleagues?”
“Perhaps,” Farideh said, suddenly very aware of Mira’s resemblance to the Calishite priest. “I didn’t know Tam had any children. It’s not the sort of thing he talks about-with me, at any rate.”
“And what do you talk about?” Mira asked, turning back to her maps.
She spoke as if she were doing Farideh a favor, as if she were leaving the conversation open for the younger girl to amuse herself. But under it, Farideh suspected, there was an old anger. She thought of Mehen, of the way he favored Havilar and the way he fought Farideh so hard when she wouldn’t break the pact. She and Mira might have more in common than she’d expected.
“About how I’ve done the wrong thing, usually,” Farideh said. “But mostly, we don’t.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Mira said, straightening and eyeing the inked path she’d drawn through the green patches marking the forest. “Really, the only one who is ever truly right with him is Tam Zawad.”
Which was true, Farideh thought, recalling how often Tam’s conversations had been centered on how she ought not do something she ended up perfectly capable of doing, or how she ought to avoid something she’d never ever intended to do. Or how he’d streaked off to reclaim the page and stone without once consulting Dahl or herself.
And yet she wouldn’t have agreed with it, not outright. Enough persuasion and Tam could be convinced. He would see reason. But then, she supposed, much like if someone were to ask Farideh what she thought of Mehen while they were mid-argument, Mira wasn’t interested in that side of things.
The thought of Mehen sent a nervous pang through her stomach, and the patch above her tail tensed. She hoped indeed that Tam was right about that much.
“Has it been long since you’ve seen him?” she asked.
“A few years.”
“That must be hard.”
Mira looked up, her smile even more insistently unconcerned.
“Not in particular. Are you ready to leave soon?”
Farideh frowned. “Now?”
“Well,” Mira said. “My father’s clearly gone to get permission or coin or what have you from his superiors-else he would have said something about where he was going. Once he has that, I suspect we’ll be well underway. All of us, most likely, and I would think by morning. So you ought to get your things together. Your sister, as well.” This time, Farideh thought, Mira’s smile was genuine. Fond, even. “And this time next tenday we’ll be in the cavern of Xammux,” she said. “Amid the treasures of Tarchamus.”