Wynn spotted a thôrhk wrapped around the raised steel collar of his armor. Its ends were spiked like Hammer-Stag's, and she quickly saw all four wore the same. All four guardians were warrior thänæ.
The one paused before the duchess, offering a curt nod, as if that were all she were due, and then he glanced slowly between Wynn and Chane.
Wynn couldn't clearly see his face between the helm's brow and cheek wings, but his posture seemed challenging enough. He looked back at the duchess.
"Why have you done this?" he demanded.
Duchess Reine returned her own slower nod. "A family matter for one of the guardians of the honored dead."
"No matter is enough to breach the secrecy of this place!"
"It involves other kin as well, one who is a member of her guild," the duchess added, and she looked toward Wynn, as she continued speaking to the thänæ. "I would never do this lightly. They will go no farther, and I will vouch for their sealed lips … at any cost."
The duchess's wintry gaze explained it all.
One slip, one hint of ever having been here, would get Wynn—and Chane—killed. There would be no court or tribunal, no charges at all for them to defend against. Wynn could only nod her understanding as she grew sick to her stomach. But it didn't matter how deep she'd mired herself, so long as she had any chance to find the texts.
"So … is everyone now clear on the matter?" Chuillyon interjected, his tone a little too mockingly bored. "Very good then."
He went straight to the far wall and grasped a rope Wynn hadn't noticed. Unwinding it from an iron tie mount, he heaved with all his weight.
The chamber rang with a deep tone, and Wynn clamped hands over her ears. She felt the floor stones vibrate beneath her and looked up. In the dome's height hung a great brass bell. It was mounted to one side, out of the way of a wide shaft running upward from the ceiling's center. The opening's circumference appeared to match that of the floor's white metal portal. Then the elf rang the bell again.
Wynn cringed through six tones vibrating her whole body before the duchess's companion released the rope.
"What's happening?" she finally asked.
"We wait," Reine answered.
"Aren't we going on to meet Ore-Locks?" Wynn asked, growing worried.
Duchess Reine's eyes widened just barely, as if she'd heard something of keen interest—and Wynn knew she'd said too much.
"Your promise to Domin High-Tower will be kept," the duchess answered. "You will pass your message directly to his brother."
An awkward silence followed. Wynn used every ounce of self-control to keep her expression relaxed. Her seemingly successful bluff was vaporizing with each long moment.
A familiar grinding began to grow in the chamber. Wynn had heard it only in Shade's memories.
She glanced upward to the ceiling's large opening but saw nothing. When she lowered her gaze, Shade had crept to the edge of the white metal floor portal. With her ears flattened, the dog then backed away.
The portal's center hairline split.
Its two halves began sliding smoothly away beneath the floor. A stone platform slowly rose, filling the opening as it came level with the chamber. It held only one occupant.
Ore-Locks stepped off, looking annoyed.
His thôrhk hung around his neck, but otherwise, he wore only dusty char-gray breeches and an untucked shirt. Red hair hung loose to his shoulders, as if he'd been engaged in something that required little attention to appearance.
"My lady?" he said. "Is something wrong? Why did you not just come down?"
His tone suggested resentment for the summons.
"Forgive us, but … something else required that we wait here." The duchess half turned toward Wynn. "This young sage says she has a message from your brother, and she was entrusted to tell no one but you. I could not ignore this and I brought her here."
Ore-Locks looked Wynn up and down.
"From High-Tower?" he asked.
Wynn swallowed hard. This wasn't how she expected things to play out. She'd hoped upon spotting the duchess that she might make it all the way to the Stonewalkers. Now she was stuck with nothing more than another lie.
"In … in private," she stammered.
Ore-Locks's brow wrinkled. He closed on her, taking her firmly by one arm.
Chane took a step, but Wynn shook her head, warning him off. Shade trotted after as Ore-Locks pulled Wynn out through the chamber's entrance. No one stopped the dog, though Wynn thought she saw Chuillyon watching with too much interest.
"Please wait inside," Ore-Locks told the outer guards, and once they'd stepped in and closed the door, he faced her. "What message is so urgent that my brother sends a little sage all the way from Calm Seatt?"
He was so close that she smelled his breath—dusty, yet dank at the same time. Most male dwarves wore beards, but he was clean shaven. His mouth was a wide slash like Sliver's, but his black eyes reminded her of High-Tower by shape rather than the common dwarven color. Somehow Ore-Locks was more intimidating than either of them, and that was no easy feat.
But Wynn stood face-to-face with one of the elusive Stonewalkers.
A hundred questions filled her head. Foremost was whether he knew anything of the texts. He would never answer that, so she straightened and said the only thing she could.
"A crisis in your family." She paused, considering her words. "Your brother asks that you take leave and visit your mother."
Resentment faded from Ore-Locks's expression, but his forehead wrinkled again.
"Crisis? And how would High Tower …" He broke off and took a heavy breath. "Has my brother come back? That is not possible." He shook his head. "What has happened with my mother and … ?"
Wynn never heard him speak the obvious final word—"sister."
"Why would my mother," he continued, "if not my sister, send word all the way to the guild? Why not to me?"
He faltered, as if knowing the answer.
"Because no one could contact you here, until now," Wynn confirmed. "It's not that easy, is it?"
"What else? What crisis?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. He begs that you take leave to see them."
"And that is all to your message? Nothing more specific?"
Wynn realized how flimsy this sounded, but she couldn't risk expanding the lie. She could think only about four words he'd spoken—if not my sister.
Sliver had vehemently opposed any attempt to bring her elder brother home. Ore-Locks seemed to imply that she never would've sent for him. He now paced the entrance chamber, lost in his own thoughts, and finally turned to face Wynn. His features hardened as if he resented the messenger because of the message.
Ore-Locks wheeled and shoved the door open, leaving his hand extended, commanding her to return to the inner chamber. When she and Shade stepped inside, the duchess was waiting, blocking their way.
"Your task is complete?" Reine demanded.
"It is," Ore-Locks answered before Wynn could.
"Tristan!" Reine called out.
The captain quickly joined her. "Yes, my lady?"
"Escort them back to the market," the duchess instructed, and when he nodded, she turned to Wynn. "You have well served your domin. You may now return home."
Wynn couldn't mistake that as anything but an order. The other two bodyguards closed on Chane, and he was ushered out as the outer guards regained their stations. Wynn was about to follow at the captain's silent urging, but Duchess Reine never moved.