“He’ll tunnel ye out, and do it gladly,” the dwarf explained. “He absorbs minerals from the stone to nourish himself, and being that we’re close to Keczulla, this rock is richer in them than most. That, and his loyalty to Dumathoin, made him answer our call.”
“But it’s not a dwarf,” said Talal. “Not even a person. Why would it serve a dwarf god?”
“Because it thinks and understands like any other sentient creature,” said Garavin. “It may take him longer, and he may never aspire to the intelligence of two-legged folk, but he’s capable of despair and loneliness, and of needing to combat those emotions.”
“Then why doesn’t it have its own god?” Talal pressed. “Someone who understands him.”
Garavin met Kall’s eyes briefly, and Kall knew what he was thinking. Talal’s questions were not unlike another cautiously stubborn boy’s curiosity. “He might have,” the dwarf allowed, “I only know he serves Dumathoin for the same reason I do: to keep the secrets of the stone, and to bring the rest into the light, whether it’s gems and gold, fossils of history, or—”
“Us,” Talal cut in, his expression thoughtful. “Down in the dark, where no one can see.” He touched the patch of naked skin on his head. “Balram thought he could keep us a secret.”
“But Dumathoin would not have it so,” Garavin said. “Sooner or later, all secrets come to light, whether we want them to or not.”
“Will they be safe?” Kall asked Garavin, watching the delver work.
“Yes. Iathantos will protect them. He’s given his word,” said Garavin. “If any Shadow Thief gets past us, they won’t care for the fight they’ll find waiting.”
“What’s he mean?” asked Talal, looking to Meisha for an explanation.
The Harper appeared torn. “We have to leave you now,” she said, shaking her head when Talal opened his mouth to argue. “The Shadow Thieves will have learned about Kall’s rescue party by now. They’ll be coming, and we have to meet them. An all-out assault will give the creature time to tunnel deep enough to cross the boundaries of the enchantment.”
“Once you’re outside, head for Keczulla,” said Kall. “The delver will take care of any guards outside the entrance, but I doubt there will be any. They don’t expect you to escape that way. Use my name at the city gates.”
“Ignore it when their visages pale and they soil themselves,” said Morgan.
Kall glared him into silence. He slipped a ring off his finger and handed it to Haroun. The emerald and stone, in its gold setting, was the first symbol of his new status. Garavin had made it for him long ago using Cesira’s enchanted speaking stone.
Haroun slid the ring onto her thumb. Her eyes swam with tears. “How can we thank you?”
“You saved my life,” Meisha said. She looked at Talal, but the boy was shaking his head mutinously.
“I want to stay with you,” he said, “for the fight.”
“Ha,” Meisha said. “You don’t mean that, not when you’re scenting freedom at last. No”—she shook him playfully by the shoulder when he tried to protest—“No more death-seeking for you, little Dirty Bones. We’ll follow you out once we take care of the Shadow Thieves.”
Morgan and Laerin filed back down the tunnel. Dantane and Garavin followed. Meisha took one last look at Talal and Haroun, who stood apart from the rest. Haroun had a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“They’ll be safe,” Kall said.
“I know.” Meisha allowed the others to get some distance ahead of them, then she clasped Kall’s wrist to slow him. “Balram’s lived too long, Kall,” she said fiercely, “taken too much. It’s time to end him. You promised me.”
“Meisha, I’m sorry about your master—”
“Don’t,” Meisha cut him off. “When I saw him sitting in that room … you can’t imagine how it felt.” She caught her breath and looked at him sharply. “No, that’s wrong. You can imagine. You’ve seen it before.”
He nodded grimly. “Rage blocks all reason. You’ll do anything to fix things. You’ll forgive him any terrible thing he’s ever done.” Kall touched his sword hilt. “I’ll keep my word, Meisha.” He pointed to the tunnel. “Let’s go get Varan.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cesira heard the servant calling her from the foot of the stairs. Since the explosion, none of them had dared venture into Dantane’s tower. While the druid appreciated having a place where her privacy was guaranteed, she’d come to the tower for a very different purpose.
The stones formerly connected to the tower’s ceiling were chipped and broken, forming rough crenellations. The tower had become her battlement—Cesira perched on one cloven stone in hawk form, gripping the ruined surface with her sharp talons.
The servant had come to tell her about the party approaching the house, but Cesira’s keen eyes had already spotted them on the road.
Cesira spread her wings and let out a cry, just to hear her voice echo into the twilight. She glided to the floor and transformed, standing barefoot in the center of the ruined tower as her vision gradually returned to its human limitations. She strode to the stairs and called down to the servant.
Show them in when they arrive, she said. After that, you’re dismissed for the night and the day to follow. Tell the others.
“My lady?” was the man’s timid, confused reply.
Lord Morel and I will not be in residence, Cesira said. Go quickly.
“Yes, my lady.”
My lady, Cesira repeated to herself. Gods help her. She had to get out of Amn. The audience she was about to endure would be her last in this wretched city, she vowed.
If she survived it.
The screams of night hunters greeted Kall’s ears as he waited outside Varans chamber. “Hurry, Meisha,” he said.
“Were coming.” Meisha stepped out into the passage, guiding the old wizard by the arm. He stumbled on legs unused to walking, but Meisha steadied him, whispering to him constantly, coaxing, encouraging, as one might handle a child—or a wild beast.
“Unwelcome,” Varan murmured as they walked. “Unwelcome, unwelcome you all are. You’ve never died before, none of you …” He snagged Kall’s arm suddenly. “But you will,” he hissed.
Gently, Meisha disengaged Varan’s hand and wrapped it around her arm. “Be easy, Master. We will bring you more work, more magic.”
“Broken,” Varan muttered. He lowered his gaze to his feet as he shuffled forward. “I’ll fix them all eventually.”
The net was still draped over the end of the tunnel when Kall and Meisha arrived. Laerin and Morgan lay flat on their bellies before it, watching the battle in the portal chamber. Dantane and Garavin waited some distance behind.
“How many?” asked Kall when Morgan crawled back to them.
“Dozen and a half,” said Morgan. He did not sound pleased. “They fight good.”
Laerin was equally subdued. “Your friend is with them,” he said. “The man from your party.”
Kall nodded. He should have been prepared, but it still felt as if he’d been hit with a fist. For a moment, he found himself at a loss as to how to proceed.
“The whole room’s like a bottle. Meisha and the wizard can fill the room with killing,” suggested Morgan, “before we set a foot inside.”
“But it gives the boy, Aazen, no time to explain himself,” Garavin said.
“Some of us are more concerned with not getting murdered,” said Dantane coldly. “If we act now, I can fill the room with lightning before they slay all the bats. It will buy the refugees more time as well.”
“They’re bound to have magical protection,” Laerin pointed out. “A wizard of their own, at least.”