He didn’t have anything to say to that, so he just grunted. Then her face changed. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing behind him.
He turned to see what she meant. A large, shadowy something loomed up out of the lake. An island, he figured, for the lake had seemed much larger from above.
“I’m guessing this is where we’ll find the Halafolk,” he murmured.
What they found was a city of the dead.
The houses were narrow and tall, almost whimsically so, making tight corridors of the streets that were beveled into the floor of the cave. The buildings themselves were built of carefully fitted stone, with high-pitched slate roofs designed to shed the constant dripping from above. On some, little fingers of stone had sprouted, growing toward the unseen ceiling of the cavern. Aspar had been told once that it was by this that the oldest dwellings could be known; stone did not grow quickly.
The houses were all quite empty. Aspar’s and Winna’s footsteps clattered like the echoes of a small army.
“Sir Symen said that all of the Sefry were leaving the forest, even the Halafolk,” Aspar mused. “I didn’t believe him. Why should they?”
“To leave all of this, they must have good reason.”
“It’s unimaginable,” he murmured. He pointed to a shingle that hung above the door of one house. Silver inlaid in slate depicted a six-fingered hand, three of the fingers with little candle flames. “That’s the standard of the house Sern. No one from that clan has gone aboveground for five generations, or so they say. Some of these houses I don’t even know.”
“Should we search the buildings?”
“Why? What we need is to find a way out.”
“Do you think the greffyn is still here?”
“I don’t know what to think. Let’s keep going this way; I want to find the town center.”
The island wasn’t wide, but it was long. They crossed parks planted with pale fernlike trees and black rushes. Spidery bridges took them over canals where slender black gondolas still were moored, waiting for passengers that would never come.
In time they reached a broad plaza, and the largest building they had yet seen. It resembled a castle—or a parody of a castle, built for elegance rather than utility, with its spires of glassy stone and translucent domes glowing with natural luminescence.
“The palace?”
“It’s where their prince would live and where their councils meet. If anyone is still here, that’s where they’ll be.”
“If anyone is still here, do we really want to find them?”
Aspar nodded grimly. “Yah. We have to find out what has happened here.”
“What about the men following us? Won’t they come here, just as we did?”
“Yah.” He considered for a moment. “Werlic, that’s a good point. We’ll stay in one of these other buildings by the square, and watch. With luck, there will be too few of them to search every building in town.”
“Good. I’m tired. I’d like to rest.”
Aspar chose an unremarkable four-story house with a good view of the plaza. The door was unlocked. Nine witch-lights followed them in and up the spiral stair. They didn’t stop until they reached the top floor.
It was a narrow bedroom the width of the house faced in moon-colored chalcedony, with a low sleeping couch and a larger, canopied bed. Crystal knobs on the bedposts glowed a faint white, so that even without the witchlights, there would be some illumination. Besides the staircase, a single arched doorway led to a small balcony facing away from the plaza. The view there was mostly darkness, of course, but in witch-light Aspar could just make out another four-story structure just across the way, and another balcony, a bit lower than the one on which he stood.
Back in the room, he dragged the couch over to a broad window that overlooked the plaza. He drew the heavy shades until only a crack remained to peer through. It wouldn’t do for someone to notice that this upper story was illuminated.
“Keep watch here,” he said. “I’ll see if I can find something to eat.”
“Don’t be gone long.”
“I won’t.”
The pantry was below street level, carved into the stone foundation of the island.
Most of the bread had gone to mold, which was just as well, but he found some salted fish, venison, wild boar, a wheel of yellow cheese, and several racks of wine.
He cut a hunk of cheese and a slab of the ham and tucked two bottles of wine under his arm. Then he returned to the top floor.
“Is it safe to eat?” Winna asked. “They warn against breaking bread with the Halafolk.”
Aspar chuckled. “The cheese is from someplace in Holtmarh. The wine is from the Midenlands, and the meat was poached from the King’s Forest. The only food they actually grow down here is hrew, a sort of nut that lives in the water. They make bread out of it. It tastes bad, but it’s safe enough. If the lake has fish, they eat that, too.” He nodded at the window. “Anything?”
“No. But I may have missed them.” She looked up at As-par, a very young expression on her face. “I’m not afraid,” she said.
“You’re a brave girl.”
“No, I mean it. I ought to be afraid. I was, earlier, at the pool. I was even when I told you I was coming with you. Now—it’s all gone out of me.”
“It’ll come back,” Aspar said. “Take my word for it.”
“I never thought of you as someone who could be afraid. As long as I can remember, you’ve always been there, As-par. When I was a little girl, you would just appear, from out of the forest, like some ancient hero from the legends.” She looked away.
“What you must think of me,” she said.
Aspar poured her a mazer of wine, then one for himself. It was thick, a little bitter. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was.
“I’ve been afraid,” he said.
“I know that, now,” she replied.
He moved to the window, so he could see out. The square below was still and quiet. Winna stayed where she was, almost within touching distance.
“Where do you think they went? The Halafolk?”
Aspar shrugged. “The mountains, maybe. Across the eastern sea, for all I know.” He took another drink. The wine was starting a small fire in his belly. “I was too rough last night,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to grumble.”
Her gaze fastened on his. “Well. You do know how to apologize,” she said. “I would never have guessed that either, and no one will believe me if I speak of it.”
“I’m not good at this,” Aspar grunted.
“No, you’re not. But I forgive you.”
He took another drink of wine, and was searching for something to say, when Winna suddenly gasped.
“What’s that?” Suddenly she was against him, gripping him, eyes wide.
“What? Do you hear something?”
Her face was inches from his, and smiling. “You really aren’t good at this.”
“That’s not what I meant, Winna, I—” She felt good, in his arms, and he suddenly realized how long it had been since he touched anyone. Except for the kiss from a few weeks ago. The kiss.
He never decided to do it. He knew he didn’t. But suddenly his face was against hers, his lips greedy on hers, and he felt stupid and awkward, like a boy with his first woman.
Their clothes came off, piece by piece, and fingers and lips traced the freshly exposed skin. Part of him sounded a little alarm; they had enemies outside.
Too much of him didn’t care.
When they came together, and her ankles locked behind his knees, for a long, unblinking moment he looked into her eyes. What he saw there amazed him. She looked back, and laid her hand on his cheek.
Much later, as they lay tangled and sated, he stroked the skin over her ribs and wondered if he could believe what he was feeling.
He sat up to look out the window.
“Is the Sefry army out there yet?” Winna asked languidly.
“They might have marched around the square ten times, and I wouldn’t know,” he replied.