Cinder-Shard stopped short of the cavern opening ahead.
Peering toward the greenish phosphorescent glow, Chap tried to see into that cavern. He made out stalactites and stalagmites joined together in concave, lumpy columns. However, Cinder-Shard stepped in front of him like a wall and looked beyond him. Chap glanced back along the dark one’s gaze at Chane.
“This is as far as you go,” Cinder-Shard warned. “Now ... why are you after the anchor of Earth?”
It puzzled Chap that the master of stonewalkers knew and used the term “anchor” rather than “orb.”
After a pause, Chane began to explain their reasons for coming. He spoke of retrieving the orb of Spirit, how he learned that Water and Fire had been hidden in the northern wastes, and then traveled to the Suman Empire for the recovery of Air. He told them of rumors of the Ancient Enemy’s servants gathering in the great desert’s east. And finally, he warned that this last could be a forewarning of the Ancient Enemy’s reawakening.
The orbs were needed as the only possible protection for the world—the only weapon against their creator.
Chane did not mention that he and Chap had already recovered Water and Fire from the wastes.
Master Cinder-Shard listened in silence.
“The orb of Earth is now needed,” Chane finished. “Without it to complete the five, there is no potential weapon to use against the Enemy.”
There was one other detail that Chane had not mentioned.
None of them actually knew how to use the orbs as yet.
When Chap looked up, Ore-Locks was watching his master’s face intently, but Cinder-Shard still had not spoken.
Ore-Locks became visibly anxious. “Master, I—”
“I will guard the anchor on this journey,” Cinder-Shard cut in. “You will remain here.”
“No,” Ore-Locks answered, and this one word echoed off the stone walls.
Cinder-Shard turned his coal black eyes on his subordinate. “You have wandered enough for a lifetime.”
“I will be the one to go,” Ore-Locks insisted.
Cinder-Shard’s expression shifted to fury. “It is enough that you left to follow the misbegotten little human sage who brought that thing”—he pointed to Chane—“out into the realm. This is too important ... too dangerous ... for your recklessness.”
Ore-Locks stalled. Perhaps he had never argued with his superior before, though he had gone behind the elders’ backs in some things, Chap knew.
“I was entrusted with the orb at Bäalâle Seatt.” The young stonewalker’s voice carried an edge. “I am its sole keeper, its inheritor, and without Chane, that might not have happened. Do not think you can usurp me in this, in disregard of the all-eaters ... Master.”
Chap had not even considered the possibility of a stonewalker accompanying them, and he did not care for the idea now.
Cinder-Shard appeared about to retort when Chane interrupted.
“Ore-Locks speaks the truth, and as much as I respect you, Master Cinder-Shard, this is ultimately his decision, and I will follow his wishes.”
“I will not be countered!” Cinder-Shard barked. “Not by something like you.”
Chap sensed a crisis building. What if Cinder-Shard refused to release the orb? Could Ore-Locks get to it himself? Or was it hidden where only Cinder-Shard knew?
There could be no chance of losing it now, and Chap locked his eyes on the dark, grizzled dwarf. He was uncertain if memory-words would even work with a stonewalker, but he had to try. Cinder-Shard’s contention with Ore-Locks had already evoked conscious memories of past arguments.
—Give the anchor ... to Ore-Locks ... and ... send him ... with us—
The master stonewalker jerked out one blade in a back step, but he eyed Chane. Chap heard Chane draw a blade as well. Ore-Locks immediately stepped between them, blocking Chap’s sight line to the elder stonewalker.
“Enough!” Ore-Locks shouted, unaware of the cause. “Both of you, put your blades away. Chane ... now!”
Chap glanced back once with a snarl and a huff for “yes.”
Chane glanced down once, eyes narrowing in suspicion—then widening in realization. He slipped his shorter blade back into its sheath.
Chap pushed around Ore-Locks’s legs before the young stonewalker realized. He focused on Cinder-Shard with another snarl and clack of teeth.
—Look ... down ... not ... to Chane—
Cinder-Shard did so, and his brow furrowed with confusion.
—I am majay-hì ... and ... more— ... —I ... protect ... the anchors—
He paused to let the realization sink in as to who actually spoke.
Cinder-Shard’s confusion melted into visible shock.
—Give ... the anchor of Earth ... to Chane ... and send Ore-Locks ... with us—
Cinder-Shard still stood his ground with blade in hand, and his scowl returned. He slowly looked from Chap to Chane. Shock plus doubt returned when he met Chap’s eyes once more.
“You travel with him?” He pointed the dagger toward Chane. “Knowing what he is?”
—He is ... useful ... and ... another guardian ... for ... the anchors—
Cinder-Shard’s frown deepened again. He finally looked up and waved Ore-Locks out of his way. With hesitation, he slipped the broad-based dagger back into its sheath.
“This majay-hì somehow speaks in thoughts, in voices, from my past,” he said directly to Chane, though Chane said nothing. “He expects me to do as suggested, and he claims that he protects the anchors ... as in more than one.”
Yes, Chap had made that slip in desperation and anger, and he still saw it as necessary. Both sides here needed a show of trust to end this conflict, and he had chosen to be the first. How could stonewalkers trust them—trust him—if he did not trust in them?
Chap huffed once at Chane to confirm Cinder-Shard’s words.
With a slow nod, Chane turned to Ore-Locks. “We have already traveled to the wastes and recovered the orbs of Water and Fire. We have hidden them nearby and will carry them south ... with yours.”
“Here?” Cinder-Shard demanded, as if nearing patience’s end. “Where?”
“At the mouth of the old tunnel that once led to the prince’s cell.”
Cinder-Shard’s gaze wandered in an expression of open panic.
“You must let me do this, Master,” Ore-Locks said.
Long moments of silence followed.
“How will you travel?” Cinder-Shard finally demanded of Chane.
“First by sea, though we have yet to find outbound passage,” Chane answered cautiously. “We only need to go as far as Soráno, and then by land.”
The master stonewalker hesitated again, and then spoke directly to Ore-Locks. “The Kestrel is in the harbor. I will make certain the captain gives you passage.”
Ore-Locks released a sigh of relief, and Cinder-Shard leaned down toward Chap with a wrinkled brow.
“Considering the topic at hand,” he said, “I can only guess sending the two of you together is another twisted jest by Chuillyon.”
Chap had no idea what that meant, and when he looked to Chane, the undead’s jaw clenched. Whoever this Chuillyon might be, Chane knew of him or her.
“Take these two out the aqueduct tunnel,” Cinder-Shard instructed Ore-Locks. “Retrieve their anchors and take them to the ship. I will have dealt with the captain by then ... and I will arrange to have the anchor of Earth stowed in cargo.”
Before Chap could even wonder how the master stonewalker could accomplish all of this so quickly, Ore-Locks heaved another sigh of relief.
“Yes, Master,” he said, “and thank you.”
Chap did not care to leave this place without the third orb. But so far, regardless of a temper and a quite sensible hatred of the undead, it seemed unlikely that the master stonewalker would break his word.