"What are you doing?" Chane hissed.
"You saw her," she whispered. "At the funeral, she and the others were the only ones allowed to leave the same way as the Stonewalkers."
It was too dark to clearly see Chane's face, but she heard the incensed tone of his breathy voice.
"You told me at the amphitheater's iron door that you did not know if she went with them."
"Just the same," Wynn countered, "she's the best lead we have."
She strode up the passage in soft steps, ignoring Shade's sudden huffing and growling. When she reached the top and peered around the sharp corner into the left branch, light receded below, beyond the passage's gradual curve.
Wynn stepped out to follow, until Chane grabbed the back of her robe. She glared up at him, but he held fast, and Shade quickly slunk by down the passage branch. Only then did Chane let go, and he slipped in ahead. Wynn followed them both in silence.
It wasn't long before Shade slowed her creeping advance, and Wynn saw that the surface of the walls had changed.
She hadn't even noticed until she spotted thin seams next to her shoulder. Finely masoned mortarless blocks fit tightly together in place of smoothly chiseled mountain stone. Why were masoned walls needed in place of native rock?
Shade stopped, and Chane swept back a hand in warning.
Wynn slipped up behind him, peering around his side.
The passage had straightened, but she could see a spot of light spreading on the walls ahead. There stood the elf with his stolen crystal, its light revealing the duchess and her guards.
Duchess Reine looked worn. Strands of chestnut hair had loosened from her sea-wave combs. She merely stared at the passage's stone-block wall as her companions waited in silence. Then she took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
She handed her burdens to a Weardas and flattened her hands upon the wall's stone—but not together. Separated beyond shoulder width, her left landed distinctly higher than her right. She held them there, and none of the others made a sound, as if this act was familiar.
Wynn couldn't tell if the duchess applied any pressure, but it didn't seem so. Then she heard the sound of stone grating.
The block beneath the duchess's left hand shifted slowly inward. She lifted her hand, but the stone continued to sink. In another moment the grating grew louder as the block under her right hand sank as well. Wynn watched as the duchess repeated the process over painfully long moments, until prolonged touch sent five scattered wall blocks sliding inward, and all without any pressure applied.
The grating amplified even more, echoing down the passage.
Wynn had leaned so close to Chane that she felt him flinch with her.
All of the blocks before the duchess slipped and twisted, spreading away into a hidden space beyond the wall. As the opening formed, so did a risky notion in Wynn's mind.
Perhaps there was a reason Sliver and her mother had lost track of Ore-Locks.
No one with the duchess appeared surprised at what they saw. Yet none had opened the strange portal for her. Even if Wynn remembered which stones to touch, would the wall later respond for her or Chane? Did it even lead anywhere she wanted to go?
Duchess Reine stepped through the opening, and her entourage began to follow.
Wynn dodged around Chane.
"She will see you!" he hissed.
"And that's our only chance."
She scurried down the passage before he could stop her.
One Weardas saw her coming and jerked out his sword.
"Captain!" he shouted.
The only other one still in the passage was the tall elf in white. He twisted about, revealing a lined face of advanced age. Wynn hadn't covered half the distance when the duchess's voice carried from the opening.
"Wait here!"
All three Weardas encircled the duchess as she stepped out. The white-robed elf shifted closer, and everyone was watching Wynn. All of the duchess's people stood in the passage, so whom had she told to wait inside that hidden place?
"Wynn … Journeyor Hygeorht," the duchess began.
In those three words, her tone slipped from surprise to disdain. Wynn knew the duchess had gained more than a passing familiarity with the young sage who'd caused so much trouble.
"Ah, the curious one," added the elder elf.
When Wynn glanced at the crystal in his hand, the barest smile spread upon his lips, crinkling the corners of his mouth. He nodded slightly to her, but his eyes held no malice—unlike Reine's.
"Duchess," Wynn said, bowing respectfully.
Reine's gaze shifted slightly, and Shade and Chane stepped into plain sight.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "How did you find this place?"
"Domin High-Tower sent me … on a family matter," Wynn answered. Lying was getting far too easy for her. "I must speak with his brother among the Stonewalkers immediately. The domin said you would be at Dhredze Seatt, and if I located you, you could help."
"Answer my question!" the duchess ordered.
Wynn flinched, and then again for visibly flinching the first time.
"We've been looking for you for several days. The Off-Breach Market was one place Domin High-Tower suggested. This man was sent as my guard."
Wynn stepped slightly aside, gesturing to Chane.
Reine's lips parted, but the elf spoke first. "And you are far out of place."
Wynn wondered how this elf of no known guild order knew that Chane was a foreigner. But his gaze was low and to her other side. He was looking at Shade.
A quick laugh rolled out of him, and Shade answered with a rumble. Puzzled as Wynn was that the elf seemed to recognize Shade, she couldn't afford the distraction. Not if she were to gain more from the duchess.
Reine remained quiet and swept a hand downward before her bodyguards.
"My lady?" the chin-bearded one returned sharply.
"It's all right, Tristan," she said.
Unlike the other two, he only lowered his sword rather than sheathing it, and with visible reluctance.
"Very well, journeyor," the duchess continued. "Since our honored domin is in need, I would never refuse. Give me whatever letter you bear for him. I will see that Ore-Locks receives it."
Wynn caught Reine's slip. Not only did the duchess know the Stonewalkers, she knew High-Tower's brother by name. Duchess Reine advanced half the distance and held out her hand.
"Do not get any closer to her," Chane whispered.
He spoke in Belaskian, so only Wynn understood, but the captain, the one called Tristan, inched forward with his gaze fixed on Chane.
"I have no letter," Wynn replied.
"And I have no patience for more of your meddling!"
Wynn shook her head. "Forgive me, but as I said, this is a family matter … a private matter … difficult for the domin to speak of."
"Then tell me. I will pass it to his brother privately."
"Domin High-Tower's instructions were explicit. I must deliver it personally. Please take me to Ore-Locks."
The duchess dropped her hand. Suspicion mounted in her expression.
If the Stonewalkers truly guarded the texts, had Wynn just hinted too much concerning her true goal?
Chane slipped a hand beneath his cloak to his sword's hilt. He did not dare step in front of Wynn and cause this whole standoff to suddenly crumble. Beneath the duchess's suspicion, he saw discomfort and uncertainty surface. It was not hard to guess what troubled her.
If the duchess believed Wynn at all but did nothing to help, there could be repercussions with the guild. But if the duchess even suspected Wynn was lying …
Chane's gaze slipped to the saber's hilt protruding from the duchess's cloak.
It was not the weapon that troubled him but rather the way it hung, not high near the belt, dangling like the ornament of a royal. It was slung low, raked back, loose on its suspension strap.