The man looked up at him with eyes as ebony as an eclipse, his skin a shade of gray that death couldn’t explain. And as Tam watched, a wisp of shadowstuff rose off his waxy cheek.
“Hrast,” Tam swore. A shade. The man had been dead at least a few days, and judging from the bloodstains on the floor, he hadn’t been alone.
Tam followed the path of black, stinking footprints around a blind corner. There were two more bodies, weapons in hand, lying on the floor. Both shadar-kai. One had a chain wrapped around his throat. The other had a sword in her back. Both seemed somehow less substantial, as if their bodies were slowly returning to the Shadowfell.
Brin still looked pale, but he was well enough to lift his head when Tam came back out. “We have a problem,” Brin said. “A few problems.”
“I’ll say.” Tam pulled him to his feet. “We need to get out of here. How did you know there were dead Shadovar behind that wall?”
“I didn’t,” Brin said. “That’s the first problem.” He described what had happened in his mind as he raced past Tam-the memory that shifted and changed from the truth, the strange sound of Constancia speaking in broken words. Tam schooled his expression-but with every word of the strange vision the hope that his dream of Viridi had been brought on by fatigue and stress faded faster than the dead shade.
“Walk,” Tam ordered. They had to get back to the others-if Brin had been pulled into an illusion real enough to lead him halfway across the cavern, who knew what the others had experienced. “Did you have the sense she-it was trying to trap you? Hurt you?”
“No,” Brin said. “Only … it was hard to live that again.” He swallowed once more. “She didn’t do anything else though-only showed me the dead body.”
“Which sounds an awful lot like a threat to me.”
“She said there was nothing here worth dying for.”
Cold horror poured over Tam. “I’m inclined to agree. Whatever’s happening, we’re not equipped to handle it, few as we are.” They reached the wider aisle. “At least the other problems can’t make things worse.”
“Much worse.” Brin stopped walking. “There’s another kind of illusion,” he said. “And we haven’t got as many allies as we thought.”
Tam swore, but before he could get more of an explanation out of Brin, a scream split the silence of the library.
“There you are!”
Farideh nearly leaped out of her skin as Havilar bounded out from the maze of shelves into the open space of their camp. Farideh tucked the scroll she’d been studying-and its guilty infernal runes-under her ritual book. Havilar dropped beside her sister, practically vibrating with energy.
“I,” she announced, “have been looking everywhere for you.”
Farideh had been sitting in the camp since leaving the Book’s alcove, trying to sort out the ritual before Tam came back to scold her. “I don’t think it’s been everywhere.”
“It might as well have been,” Havilar said with a giggle. “You will not believe.”
“You’re in a good mood,” Farideh said, returning to the text in her lap as her sister settled down beside her. “What happened? Did you find another trap?”
“I kissed him.”
Farideh looked up, startled at her sister’s smug, gleeful expression. “Brin?”
Havilar snorted. “No, Maspero. Yes, Brin. Right on the mouth.” She grinned and hugged her knees to her chest. “And then he kissed me back. Can you believe it? I was so sure he wasn’t fond of me.”
“What … When did this happen?” Why did she feel as if someone had punched her in the chest? Brin hadn’t said anything, she realized. He’d stood there and let her think everything was the same as always.
“Before. We were talking and he said I was pretty, and I wasn’t sure at first if he meant it or if maybe he meant the both of us, right? But then … he said the nicest things. And he is fond of me. So I kissed him.” Havilar squinted at her. “Are you angry?”
“No,” Farideh said. “I … just surprised.” She swallowed. “Was it … How was it?”
Havilar blushed. “Nice. Not like you’d expect, right? But nice. Sort of terrifying.”
“If it’s terrifying, maybe you shouldn’t be doing it,” Farideh said, before she could stop herself. You can’t stop any of this anymore, she thought.
Havilar looked as if Farideh had slapped her across the mouth. “Many thanks, Mehen,” she said. “I don’t care what you think. I did it. I’ll do it again.” She stood. “Besides I’m sure it’s a thousand times more terrifying to kiss Lorcan, and that’s never stopped you.”
Farideh blushed so hard her face ached. “I’ve never kissed Lorcan.”
Havilar rolled her eyes. “Well he’s kissed you then. It still counts.”
“No!” Hells, but there had never been a conversation Farideh wanted to have less. “Really. We’ve never … on the cheek and that was only to bother me.”
Devils don’t love, he’d told her once, and even if he was half a devil, that still meant Lorcan. Every touch, every sweet word, even that burning kiss on her cheek-they were all to keep her guessing, to make her unsure of where she stood. Not a one was “nice.”
It doesn’t matter, she thought. You wouldn’t kiss him. You have an agreement, that’s it.
Havilar was staring at her. “Really?”
“He’s not some boy. Why would I?”
“Because you’re not blind,” Havilar said. “No, even if you were blind I’d still be surprised, since your ears and hands would still work. How many times have you snuck off with him and you never even tried-”
“Are you not the one always telling me to get rid of him? To stop talking to him?”
“And you should,” Havilar said. “But it’s not like you haven’t already ignored me for ages, and gods, do come on!”
“I am not talking about this with you,” Farideh said. “Go talk to Brin about how faulty I am. You can share that too.”
Havilar scowled at her. “I’m not blind either. So quit pretending you’re so much more virtuous.” She turned on her heel and stalked off into the labyrinth of the library.
Farideh watched her go, torn by the urge to chase Havilar down and make it all right and to leave her be, to let her cool down.
This isn’t going to last. He’s going to break your heart. He doesn’t belong in our world. He’s going to leave us both. She didn’t have the words in her to explain to Havilar why this was a terrible, terrible thing, and she didn’t think Havilar would have heard them if she had.
She will call me jealous, Farideh realized. And to a point she would be right.
Not of Brin-though Havilar would never believe that, she was sure-but that Havilar had things so easy. A nice boy, a decent boy, a boy brave enough to get close to Havilar, and he liked her horns and all. Even if Farideh had half a chance at such luck, the pact would probably frighten anyone decent off.
Unbidden, Adolican Rhand popped into her mind and she shuddered. That was what she was allotted. No thank you.
I’m sure it’s a thousand times more terrifying to kiss Lorcan.
Farideh ran her hands through her hair, under her horns, and squeezed her eyes shut. How could Havilar even think that was an option? And, even if it were …
Even if it were, she thought, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. And neither would he.
She opened her eyes and suddenly the floor was dark, and canted woozily, as if half the library had sunk. But there was no library, no books, and no maze of shelves, the floor was clear but for the trash of a life someone had fled ages ago and the splash of moonlight across the floor.
Neverwinter, she thought, and the powers of the Hells surged up through her, trailing pennants of shadow. Neverwinter and they were all in terrible danger.