“Of what?”
“A flux of the gut.”
Seregil looked bored, but his heart skipped a beat. “Really? Was it the bloat?”
“Don’t think so.” Lemiel shook his head sadly. “Markis was a good boy, ’cept for the stealing. Guess Bilairy finally caught up with him. One day he felt fine, the next he was bringing up black blood and passing it. Doctor Kordira couldn’t make any sense of it. By nightfall he was gone.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. When did he pass?”
“Right before the old governor, not more than a couple of days.”
“May gentle winds carry his ashes.”
Lemiel snorted. “We don’t burn our people like garbage here on the island. He’s buried out on the point, right and proper. So, what do you say? Do you want any of this or not?”
“This for the lot of it.” Seregil opened his purse and slid four gold sesters over to him. “What do you say? That’s more gold than any of this is worth, and you can spend it without anyone asking questions.”
Lemiel nodded and scooped up the coins. “Much obliged.”
Seregil rattled the purse thoughtfully. “I certainly would have liked to see the gem that came out of such a pretty setting.”
“If I had it I’d part with it,” Lemiel said with what appeared to be genuine regret. “Markis didn’t say anything about a stone. Didn’t say anything about any of it ’til he was on his deathbed. Then he gave me what he had in the world. We didn’t have any family but each other. Never did.”
Seregil gathered up the spoils of the night and rose. “If you come into any other interesting articles, send word to me at Mirror Moon. And if you ever need anything …”
Lemiel held out his coarse, scarred hand. “Much obliged, but I get on fine.”
Seregil shook with him, touched by the former slave’s pride.
Exhaustion rolled over him as he walked back to the tavern for Cynril. Everything hurt as he climbed into the saddle. He definitely wasn’t up to grave robbing on his own tonight. Fixing his mind on a hot bath and a soft bed, he kicked Cynril into a gallop and headed back to the governor’s house.
Mika thought he was awake, but he couldn’t see anything. He was cold and wet and scared and very much in pain. The last thing he remembered before the red came was the beautiful lady breaking his arm again and the dra’gorgos that almost entered his body.
He was lying on his back in water and when he tried to sit up his arm hurt so much he screamed, then bit his cheek to keep from crying.
“Hello?” he quavered. “Klia, are you here?”
But all he could hear was water dripping. No one was there to help him, so he had to help himself. With his good hand, he pulled his broken arm across his chest, crying out with the effort, and managed to sit up. Pain and the red had taken away most of his strength, but he concentrated very hard on the illumination spell Master Thero had taught him and slowly a tiny orb of light grew into being in front of him; by its light he saw that his fine velvet clothing was nothing but faded scraps and rags. He concentrated harder and the light got to be the size of a wren’s egg, the best he could do. Right in front of him was a stone post and on it was a sparkling skull. That told him where he was—in the haunted cave.
It was hard to get to his feet without using his hands but he managed it, every move jarring fresh pain through his arm and shoulder. Imagining the light tethered to the top of his head by a silver cord as Master Thero had taught him to do, he managed to control it as he turned around to see where he could get out. The cave was very large, though, and he was going to have to walk around to find the tunnel exit. Under different circumstances he would have been entranced by the glimpses he got of animals drawn on the walls, but all he could think of was a ghost—or worse yet, a dra’gorgos—jumping at him out of the surrounding darkness.
He found the opening at last, and the dauntingly steep tunnel up. It wasn’t very big. He could stand in it, but only with his head down. Since he had to hold his broken arm to his chest with his good hand, he had to use a shoulder to brace himself against the side of the tunnel as he started the painful climb. He had no idea how far it was to the upper chamber. Before long, his light started to shrink. He just didn’t have the strength to keep it alive. With no choice, he kept going in the darkness, so black that soon he began to see colored stars whirling in front of him. He’d have been scared if it wasn’t for Master Thero telling him it was just a trick the eyes played in the dark.
Just when he thought he couldn’t go any farther the way became less steep and he felt a whisper of breeze against his face. Then he saw light ahead. That gave him the last burst of strength he needed to reach a chamber where a large lightstone glowed in a brazier. There was an old black stool there, too, and he sat on it, waiting for his legs to stop shaking before he went into the next tunnel. He’d just sit here a moment, then get out of here and find Master Thero and the others and tell them all that Klia had told him to remember. He felt better sitting down, even though his arm still hurt terribly. The longer he sat, though, the harder it was to think of getting up. Leaning back against the cave wall behind the stool, he felt more tired than he could ever remember. But he had to go on …
He was in Menosi, and it was full of life and color. There were people in old-fashioned clothing in the streets, and flags and banners on poles everywhere, like it was a festival day. He could see the palace down a nearby street and walked toward it, since it was the only place in the city that he really knew. He was almost there when the great doors opened and Rhazat and a handsome Aurënfaie man came out. She looked younger, and even more pretty, and was wearing a blue gown, not red, with a golden coronet on her brow.
A great cheer went up and she and the man smiled and waved at everyone, then mounted two white horses and headed toward the city gate. The people started chanting something that Mika couldn’t understand. As the woman and man came abreast of where he stood, Rhazat smiled down at him and said something that sounded like what the voice in his head had said just before the red came out.
Eshrlee.
It had taken two days for Alec to find a portal in the palace again. As Thero had surmised, the things moved, coming and going like mirages and only Alec could see them. Like a stalking hound, he led Thero and Micum down one corridor after another for hours, returning frequently to the corridor where he’d first gone through to the other side.
They were there again as the sunlight was fading outside when a flicker of motion caught Alec’s eye as they passed the corridor where Mika had disappeared.
“There!” Alec said, pointing to the wavering image of grey grass and distant hills. “Can you see it?”
“All I see is corridor,” said Micum.
“Me, too,” Thero agreed. “Give me your hand and see if you can lead me through.”
They both shouldered the packs of food and water they’d brought, and Alec took the wizard’s hand and hurried toward the portal. Reaching it, he stepped through as easily as always, but suddenly he wasn’t holding Thero’s hand. Turning around, he saw nothing but rolling grassland. This time he was on the far side of the river, across from the town.
“Bilairy’s Balls,” he muttered in exasperation. Not only couldn’t Thero get in, Alec was on the wrong side of the river, there was no bridge in sight, and there wasn’t much daylight—if you could call it that here—left. With a sigh, he started walking upriver, hoping something would present itself before he ran out of daylight or food.
He’d gone perhaps half a mile when he caught sight of a darker patch against the evening gloom, surrounding what looked like the flicker of a fire. Gripping the pack straps, he started for it at a run. He hadn’t gone far, though, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a horse galloping behind him. Turning, he saw a woman on a black horse coming down the road toward him. Glad to have the river between them, he hurried on. But suddenly the hoofbeats were much, much closer. Glancing back, he saw that she’d somehow gotten across and was gaining on him, accom
panied by two large dark shapes loping along ahead of her. A quavering, hooting call went up—one Alec recognized with horror. He’d heard just such a call the night Thero had been hunted by a dra’gorgos. He ran for his life. The cries grew louder and he thought he could hear hollow, crazed laughter.
He was within a few yards of the portal when he felt a terrible chill at his back. Something clutched at his neck but he reached the dark, wavering portal and threw himself through. Before he could get up the dra’gorgos was on him, reaching for his heart. Instead, it found his amulet and silently disintegrated into nothingness before his eyes. Another distant, hooting hunting cry drifted to him on the breeze. Rolling to his feet, he kept running until the ground went out from under him and he was falling, tumbling, rolling over rocks.
He came to rest on his back, a bit stunned but alive. As he lay there he suddenly realized that he was looking up at stars in a clear night sky. The dra’gorgos was gone, and there was no sound of hooves pursuing him. Gravel crunched under him as he climbed to his feet and looked around. He’d somehow fallen into a dry riverbed. He hadn’t broken anything, fortunately, though he was certain he’d be sporting some new bruises tomorrow.
At least I’ll live to see tomorrow, he thought with a grin of profound relief.
The riverbank wasn’t very steep, and he climbed up without too much trouble. As he reached the top, he looked up and saw a town nearby. Or rather, the ruins of a town—broken walls, scattered stone. This was the place the shepherd boy had led them to, where those soldiers had died horrible, unexpected deaths.
He stood a moment, staring at it, then slowly turned around full circle.
The dry river.
The town clustered around the edge of a circular barren spot where the tower he’d seen on the other plane would fit nicely. Imagining a wooden palisade around it, Alec finally put the pieces together. He walked up to where the main gate would have been and found the remains of a street leading in. Keeping to it to avoid snakes and other dangers, he slowly walked to the open space and paced the periphery. It seemed about right. This was the mysterious woman’s town. On the other side, he’d seen it as it looked in the distant past, with the tower in place. How was it possible?
With the threat of snakes and man traps fresh in his mind, he left it with its secrets for now and started the long walk back to camp.
“There’s no use waiting here,” Micum called as Thero stood looking back at the spot where Alec had vanished. One moment he and Alec had been running full-tilt down the corridor; the next Alec had disappeared into thin air again and Thero had kept going on his own for a few yards before he slowed to a halt and turned around.
“It was just the same when he went in after Mika,” Micum explained as Thero walked back to join him. “Who knows where he’ll turn up this time? It’s never been in the same place twice.”
“What do we do?”
Micum had never seen Thero at such a loss. Resting a hand on the wizard’s shoulder, he guided him back the way they’d come. “Wherever Alec ends up, he’ll head back to camp for sure. We might as well wait for him there.”
“If we’ve lost him—lost them—”
“They’re no more lost than they were, Thero. You’ve got to hang on to hope.”
Thero looked up at him. “Is that what you do? Just hope?”
“It’s gotten me through some rough times.”
Thero said nothing more as they left the palace and rode back to the camp, taking Windrunner with them.
When they got there Thero started for his tent but Micum steered him instead to the camp circle, sat him next to the fire, and went in search of food and ale. He soon found it and carried a hard sausage and a chunk of white cheese balanced on a flat round loaf of bread and a large tankard of ale back to where the wizard sat cross-legged on the grass, hands resting on his knees, just as Micum had left him. There were soldiers and servants around the fire but they were giving Thero space.
Micum placed the food and drink in front of him and took out a knife. Cutting a slice from the sausage, he held it out to Thero on the blade. He took it and ate with no apparent interest and ate and drank more only at Micum’s insistence.
They were still there when they heard galloping hoofbeats on the road from Menosi and a man shouting, asking for Lord Thero.
Thero sprang to his feet and ran for the road. Micum followed and saw a horseman in uniform rein in, holding something in his arms. Thero reached up and carefully took the large bundle. Micum reached him and saw that it was Mika, white-faced and unconscious, but breathing.
“Found him in the oracle’s cave, my lord,” the horseman told Thero. “Watch his arm, it’s broken.”
“Illior’s Light, again?” Thero gasped as he and Micum strode for Thero’s tent. “He’s in shock. We’ve got to get him warm. Micum, would you bring the healer?”
“Of course!”
By the time he returned with the drysian and her assistant, Thero had Mika laid out on one of the cots, his broken arm positioned on a pillow at his side.
“Maker’s Mercy, what’s happened to him this time?” the drysian exclaimed, kneeling by the bed to examine Mika’s arm. “This is a worse break than last time. Both bones are snapped.”
“Can you set it?” asked Thero.
“Of course, my lord, but the one that was broken before may not ever be quite straight. I’ll do my best.”
Micum stood with Thero on the other side of the cot while she went about setting the bones. As she pulled and twisted to join them, however, Mika woke with a scream of pain and tried to struggle away. Micum caught the boy by the shoulders and held him down. Thero got Mika’s thrashing head between his hands and murmured a spell. The boy’s eyes fluttered closed and he went still, but as he went to sleep, he mumbled something.
“What did he say?” asked Micum.
Thero looked up with new, fierce hope in his eyes. “He said ‘Klia is alive.’ ”
MICUM and Thero stayed by Mika’s bed through the night.
“What do you think happened to his other one?” whispered Micum as he watched the wizard make another amulet for the boy. “I can’t imagine he’d take it off willingly.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Thero let the metal cool, then tied it securely around Mika’s neck.
The boy woke just before dawn. “Master!” Mika whispered, looking up at Thero with relief and adoration that made Micum’s heart ache.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” said Thero, and Micum was sure he saw the glitter of tears in the wizard’s eyes.
“I was with Klia and she said she loves you and I was to run away if only one of us could get out,” said Mika, clutching Thero’s sleeve. “She said it was my duty to Skala. I have so much to tell you, Master, and I had a dream—”
“Slow down,” Thero soothed, stroking the boy’s forehead. “One thing at a time. Klia’s alive?”
“Yes, she’s with a lady dyrmagnos named Rhazat.”
Micum rested a hand on the hilt of his sword; this confirmed their worst fears, and now she had a name.
“Is Klia hurt?” asked Thero.
Mika shook his head. “She said Rhazat can’t kill her because she needs her to break the thing in the cave.”
“What sort of thing?”
“It’s gold with a stone in the middle that glows.”
“You were right,” Micum murmured.
“That’s a Great Seal, Mika. Why did she think Klia could break it?” asked Thero.
“I think because Klia’s related to the last Hierophant, a woman called Nhandi. Klia thinks that’s who made the seal and put the dyrmagnos in the other place.”
“Illior’s Light! But Klia didn’t break the seal.”
Mika’s lips trembled. “She wouldn’t because it was her duty to Skala. So she had to let—” Tears slid down both cheeks. “Rhazat broke my arm again, to make her, and was going to put a dra’gorgos in me.”
“But she didn’t. What happened?”
> “Because the red came, Master,” Mika whispered, as if expecting a remonstrance. “It was a bad red, and I woke up in the deep, wet cave Seregil and Alec told us about and crawled up out of it to the next one. Did you find me?”
“No. One of the guards there brought you to me. You said you have a lot to tell me?”
Mika nodded. “Klia told me things to tell you. We were in a town with a tower, called Zikara. Rhazat claims she’s a queen but she’s really a dyrmagnos who kisses people to kill them.”
“Kisses them?”
“That’s what Klia said. Rhazat doesn’t look how she really is but mirrors show what she looks like. I didn’t get pulled into the other plane, either, I just was there all of a sudden. Our amulets didn’t work there, because a dra’gorgos took mine, and later another one caught us and carried us to the cave, the one on her side.” He frowned, trying to remember more. “She can’t touch gold and Lady Zella has a dra’gorgos in her.”
“Damnation, Seregil is with her!” Micum exclaimed. “I’ve got to go let him know.”
“A moment,” said Thero, laying a hand on his arm. “Let’s hear what else Mika can tell us, then you can carry the news to Seregil. Mika, is there anything else you remember?”
“Yes, Master. When Klia and I were in that other cave with Rhazat, I heard a voice in my head, just before the red came. It said something like ‘eshrlee.’ ”
“Are you sure that’s what it was?”
“No, Master, but it was like that, I’m sure.”
“Does that mean something?” asked Micum.
Thero shook his head.
“Anyway,” Mika went on, “when I was in the oracle’s caves on this plane I was really, really tired so I sat on a little stool in the cave with the light and I had a dream. I saw Menosi the way it was when people lived here. It was a festival day and Rhazat and an Aurënfaie man were coming out of the palace and people were cheering. I don’t know why, since she’s a bad person, but the people seemed to love her. She and the Aurënfaie man rode away on white horses and Rhazat said that word to me again—‘Eshrlee.’ ”