Duchess Reine knew how to use it—or at least how to set it for a smooth draw. If something went wrong, she could be on Wynn as the guards came at him. Even if he broke Wynn free, they would be running with no hope of ever getting near the texts.
The captain watched him, never seeming to blink, but Chane ignored the man. He shut out everything, even Wynn, waiting for the duchess to speak again.
"Surely, even for a family crisis," the duchess began, "High-Tower would have faith in the royal family. He would trust my discretion, as we have always trusted his."
Chane caught no deception beneath those words—he felt nothing at all. Why could he not tell truth from lies when it mattered? Why did such warnings only come when he was not focused on trying to listen for deception?
The duchess shifted weight between her feet. She was obviously disturbed by Wynn's sudden appearance. But that was all Chane could discern.
"I can't break my word," Wynn insisted. "I'm allowed to speak only with Ore-Locks."
"And I cannot take you to him," Reine answered flatly.
Again, Chane could not tell if that was a lie. Wynn took a step forward, and he tensed.
"This is urgent, Highness," she pleaded. "Domin High-Tower assured me you would help."
"Of course I will," Reine answered sharply, and then sighed. "There may be a way."
All amusement washed from the tall elf's lined face. "My lady," he warned.
"I know, Chuillyon," she answered, and then studied Wynn. "Come with me."
As the duchess turned away, Wynn advanced, but Shade did not. Chane found the dog standing tense, eyes locked on the duchess's back. Was Shade trying to catch the woman's memories?
"Shade?"
The dog shook herself, peered up at him, and then padded after Wynn. Chane hurried onward, still dumbfounded at the risks Wynn took.
The duchess could detain them and send an inquiry to High-Tower, uncovering Wynn's deception. Wynn had already related that Duchess Reine, acting for Malourné's royals, had used her influence to keep the texts in the hands of guild premins. The Stonewalkers' involvement was still only an educated guess, but Chane was certain of two things.
First, Duchess Reine was hiding something, and second, she was only playing Wynn's polite game for now.
Wynn inhaled a sharp breath an instant before he stepped through the opening. His attention immediately fixed on what he saw there, even as he heard the bodyguards enter behind him.
At the back of a hidden stone room was another pair of iron doors, just like the ones at the amphitheater of Old-Seatt. But these doors were guarded.
A dwarf in plated leather armor stood to either side, and both held iron staves. Both wore sashes, one of russet with green lines and the other of pure plum. Embroidered emblems on each were different, so their clans were not the same. But both were obviously constabulary.
Chane's frustration grew.
A hidden door behind a hidden opening in a deep lonely passage—and guarded as well. The only other difference was a recessed iron panel behind the guard with the plum-colored sash.
"Now, please," the duchess said.
The dwarf turned, grasping the panel's handle, and then paused and glanced back. Duchess Reine turned to face Wynn.
"You and yours will turn around, until told otherwise."
Wynn pivoted, and Chane saw her dejected frown before he turned as well.
He heard the panel slide open.
A series of steady scrapes followed, like honed metal sliding on smooth stone. He could only guess at some set of rods being pressed or pulled, like the ones Wynn had described beyond the amphitheater's iron doors. It made him wonder why that other door's lock had been on the inside.
A louder grinding began—once, twice, and three times.
Chane shook his head. He knew this portal had the same triple-layered doors as the last.
Every new sound reaffirmed how impossible it would be to come this way again if Wynn's gamble did not get them to the Stonewalkers. Despite his claim to her about using mixed intimidation and manipulation, that ploy had worked only on humans who had viewed Welstiel as a powerful noble. It would not work here.
Whatever lay beyond the doors was of such importance that the dwarves took no chance of anyone finding—let alone gaining—the entrance.
"This way," said the elf.
Chane turned around to find the iron portal fully open. But he was not looking into another chamber, rather at the head of a wide passage that turned sharply left. The duchess and her elven advisor stepped through, disappearing around the portal's left.
As Chane followed Wynn and Shade, he entered the passage's head and saw that it curved away, gradually downward. The Weardas came last, and the captain still had his sword out. Chane quickened his step, closing behind Wynn. Strategically set orange crystals lit their path.
He remained silent, hearing only an indiscernible whisper or two pass between the duchess and the elf walking ahead. This was too easy, and going far too well from Chane's perspective.
The journey continued along the tunnel's gradual spiral down—and down. Soon, Chane lost all sense of which direction they headed through the mountain. They had been walking for something less than an eighth-night when the tunnel finally ended in a small round chamber.
Another door waited between two more armored constables, though it was normal wood and overly broad. Both guards clearly knew the duchess. One began unlocking the door as the second studied Wynn and Shade—and Chane. The elf said something in Dwarvish. Other than his higher-pitched voice, it sounded as if he was fluent. The guard studying Wynn shook his head, perhaps not liking surprise guests, and then motioned everyone forward.
Chane stepped through the door into a wide domed chamber of smooth stone. His gaze immediately locked upon the floor's center.
Embedded there was a perfectly round mirror big enough to hold a wagon. Light from the elf's crystal bounced off its surface, sending flickers across the domed walls. But the closer Chane stepped, the less certain he became.
The mirror was not glass.
Milky, perhaps a gray nearly white, it appeared made of some kind of metal. Chane spotted a hair-thin seam dividing the great disk. Another portal, this time in the floor, but again, no bars, locks, latches, or handles of any kind. What was it made of, and where had he seen such metal before?
Wynn whispered, "Chein'âs … the Burning Ones!"
Wynn stared at the glistening portal in astonishment. She wasn't even aware she'd spoken until her own whisper filled her ears. She clamped her mouth shut, hoping no one had heard her clearly, but there was no mistaking that metal.
It was the same as the head of the elven quill given to her by Sgäile's uncle, Gleann, while she'd been in the Elven Territories. It was the same metal as the weapons gifted to Leesil and Magiere by …
The Chein'âs—the Burning Ones.
They were one of the five races of the mythical Úirishg, though only dwarves and elves were commonly known to exist. At least until Sgäile had taken Magiere, Leesil, and Chap on a secret side trip during the journey to Pock Peaks in search of the orb.
Were the Chein'âs here as well, hidden somewhere below the seatt?
It didn't seem possible they had been so close all these centuries and remained unknown to the world. Then again, First Glade, at the center of the Lhoin'na's lands, had been hiding in plain sight since the great war and beyond. Or had the dwarves learned to mine this metal themselves from somewhere deep in the earth? That was unlikely.
From what little Wynn had learned, the Chein'âs lived in the depths amid severe heat. Only they seemed to know the working of this white metal.
Shade's quick huff startled Wynn to awareness.
Four dwarves stood post around the domed chamber at equidistant points, but they weren't constabulary. Though they carried tall iron staves, their armor was more layered bands of steel than leather, and their iron-banded helms would've been too heavy for a human male. Two were armed with double-bladed axes, harnessed head-down on their backs. Another held a long hafted mace, its butt resting on the floor, while the last had a wide sword in a scabbard on his waist. All carried paired war daggers sheathed on their belts. And the one beyond the Chein'âs portal rounded toward the duchess and her attendant.