“Too late for what?”
Dahl frowned at her. “You really don’t have any idea what he’s doing.”
“Will you just tell me?”
“These people are Chosen of the gods,” Dahl said.
“Like in chapbooks?”
“Somewhat.” He told her about Oota and Phalar and Torden, about Samayan and the trail of daisies. About the strange things Tharra had told him. Her look of shock was unmistakable.
“So you think the Nameless One is a Chosen of Shar?”
“Fits, doesn’t it?”
She turned from him. “So what does Rhand do with them?”
“No one seems to know,” Dahl said. “They disappear. But no one’s finding bodies.”
“But knowing Rhand, it’s nothing good.” Farideh hugged her arms to herself. “And I’m helping him do it. Karshoj.”
“What are you doing?”
She shook her head. “Something happened in the Hells, I think. I can make myself see things. He says they’re people’s souls. I don’t know. I tell him which ones look different. Which ones are tied to the gods, I suppose, if they’re Chosen.”
He hadn’t been expecting that. “Did you look at mine?”
“Only for a moment.” She gave him a sideways look. “It’s—” He flushed, unexpectedly embarrassed. “Don’t. Please, don’t.” She regarded the blade lying on the floor. “Sorry. I won’t. Not anymore.” Dahl considered her. “He needs you to tell him which people are and which aren’t. So if you lied . . .”
She pursed her mouth. “He can’t tell if I’m telling the truth. Not until later on, after he does whatever he does. Makes their powers come out, I suppose. So I’ll just start telling him there’s no Chosen in each group.
Send everyone back out into the camp, until we can figure something out.
I’ve looked at a hundred people easily,” she said. “Maybe I found all the Chosen already? He said he gets a lot of ordinary people. It could be that they’re all ordinary.”
“A hundred?” Dahl said. “No, that’s too many. He’ll notice if you suddenly can’t see anything.”
“What choice do I have?” Farideh demanded.
“We’ll think of something else,” Dahl said. “Don’t make him angry.” An awkward silence passed. “He hasn’t hurt you has he?”
“No. It’s odd. He’s being so polite. I’d started to wonder if I had remembered wrong. If maybe everything from before was in my head.” A hand, an eye, a foot at the ankle—Dahl shuddered. “It wasn’t. In fact, I’d really rather you came back out of here with me. Safer.”
“That’s going to make him just as angry. And then we’re still trapped behind the wall,” she said. She turned, searching the racks of weapons. “I haven’t found a way around that either. I asked the waters, no one’s even come close to escaping or damaging the wall.” She hesitated. “But the waters, they make portals too.” Farideh pulled a battered sword and belt from the stacks. “They don’t last long, I don’t think you can control where they open.”
“So we end up on another plane, maybe in another time, and we leave all these people to their probable doom, and Shade to reap some sort of reward.”
An option, Dahl thought. A last resort. Grab a few, fight their way in and go.
“Does he have any maps? Anything that shows where we are?”
“There were some in the study. Nothing marked.”
“I sent a message to Tam, but I could only guess at where we are. A map would be handy if he passes another sending along.”
“Right.” Farideh yanked open her haversack and slid a blue silk-bound ritual book and a bundle of dark cloth out of it. “Here—if it helps. I don’t have any more than when you taught them to me,” she added apologetically. “So nothing spectacular. And I grabbed the components more or less at random.” Dahl leafed through the book—a sending spell, a spell to control fire, a sentinel, a magic circle, a spell to unlock doors, and the amplification ritual he’d inked in there for her, too powerful for her to cast just yet. “Still, thank the Binder, this is something.” The bundle was small—good for maybe a ritual or two if she had taken the right things. “And thank you. Pity there’s no one to buy components from.”
“Tell me what you need and I’ll find it,” Farideh said.
“No. Don’t let him catch you raiding his stores.”
“I’m not the one sneaking through the fortress hoping no one realizes they’ve never seen me before.” She pulled a rod off a shelf, a battered-looking thing with cracked and cloudy amethysts at its tips. Dahl smiled, the last of that strange rashness evaporating.
“You still have it.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t I?”
The rod had been a peace offering, an apology for all the things he’d said all those years ago. He’d had to give it to her devil instead of Farideh, and he’d half expected to find out that Lorcan had thrown the package out first chance he had.
“Lorcan’s not going to swoop in here and rescue you, right?” he asked.
“And if he is, would he mind a few passengers?”
It was a shoddy joke, and she didn’t smile. “He’s not coming for me.” The sound of the door unlatching made both of them freeze. The wedge of light from the torches beyond cut through the gloom the hanging glowballs couldn’t disperse. Farideh dropped from the shelves, and she’d no more than touched ground but Dahl grabbed her around the waist and pulled her behind the racks where he’d stuffed his clothes that first night. They slipped into the low, dark space, pressed to the floor, peering out as two pairs of feet came around the swords’ rack, jingling with each step.
“Anything missing?” a man’s voice said.
“How could you tell?” a woman sneered. “This place is a mess.”
“Nirka,” Farideh breathed.
“What does it matter?” the man said. “You grab a weapon, you have what you need.”
“It matters if there are intruders stealing from us,” Nirka said. She paced across the room, toward Farideh and Dahl’s hiding place.
“And who said there are intruders?”
“A rumor,” Nirka replied.
Nirka came to stand beside the rack of implements, where Farideh had been, and chuckled roughly. “Ah. The little demon’s rod is gone.” Dahl felt Farideh tense against him. “She’s the one been snooping.”
“It’s her weapon,” the man pointed out. “I’d drag my chain out of here if someone tried to hide it. And then maybe I’d find somewhere to hide it in them.” He paused, then added, “Are you going to ask her about it?” He sounded as if he’d like to watch that.
Nirka sniffed. “Not tonight. Not with the Lady’s Handmaiden up there.” The man laughed. “Chavak says you can master it if you prick your hands four times every step.”
“Best of luck to Chavak,” Nirka said as they walked back out the door.
“I’ll give him a day and a half before he fades, trying that nonsense.” The latch clicked again, and Dahl let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “You know her?”
Farideh nodded, her eyes still on the place where the shadar-kai had stood.
“She’s the guard they put on my room most of the time.”
Dahl thought of Phalar. “Does she guard the wall when she’s not with you?”
“I don’t know,” Farideh said. “I assume they all do at times.” And Dahl had to assume that if a voice whispered from the darkness about intruders in the armory, any one of the guards would leap at the chance to root them out. Stlarning drow.
“Help me thin these weapons out,” Dahl said. “And we’ll make a plan for what comes next.”
Chapter Fourteen
24 Ches, the Year of the Nether Mountain Scrolls (1486 DR) The Lost Peaks
The next morning, Farideh didn’t argue when Tharra pulled down a deepnight-blue and gold tunic and breeches, with high boots to match. She didn’t quail at the jewels or ask her for quiet. Her eyes were on Nirka, waiti
ng by the door, her thoughts on whether Dahl had made it back out into the camp after they’d parted ways, agreeing to meet back in two nights. “Leave a sign if you can’t make it,” she’d said before he’d disappeared down the corridor. “Some mark on one of the roofs near the wall so I know you’re safe.” Dahl agreed. “You too. Hang something out the window?”
“I know just the thing,” Farideh had said, thinking of the selection of skin-baring dresses.
In the cold light of day, their scrambled plans seemed flimsy as the awkward gowns. She was supposed to find the rest of the components for Dahl to make another sending—salts of copper and dried formian blood.
“Or brain mole,” Dahl had said. “Or intellect devourer. It will be labeled. But don’t touch anything. Just find it.”
“I can palm a little silver,” Farideh protested.
“Don’t,” Dahl had said again. “Don’t give him a reason to be dangerous.”
As if he weren’t dangerous already, Farideh thought. As if she weren’t setting scores of people into his hands. Dahl had had a point about her misidentifying Chosen. But what else could she do?
“You’re quiet, my lady,” Tharra said, as she finished fastening the laces of the tunic.
“It’s a quiet morning,” Farideh said. Hardly morning anymore—Rhand had spent the early hours in his study with the Nameless One, blessedly leaving Farideh alone for a time.
Now finally dressing for highsunfeast, her head was starting to throb again, as if the strange powers were tired of waiting to be used and going to start up whether she liked it or not. She thought of Dahl’s embarrassed expression when she’d admitted she’d seen the lights of his soul and felt a blush creep up her neck. Whatever Sairché had done, Farideh hoped dearly it could be undone. She didn’t want to go around peeking in on people.
There was a tapping at the door. Nirka ducked out, her rapid Netherese carrying through the door.
“Is Dahl all right?” Farideh asked. Tharra blinked at her.
“I assume so,” Tharra said, stitching the end of a braid up to its root. “Don’t think they would have come asking for servants among the prisoners if they’d caught that fool sneaking out.”
Farideh frowned at the woman’s sudden chilliness. “He says you’re a Harper.”
“Not like he is, apparently,” Tharra said. Before Farideh could respond, Nirka opened the door again, sneering at Farideh.
“Your devil is here.”
Sairché. A chill ran down Farideh’s spine as she stood. Time for answers. She shoved the ruby comb into her braid, just in case. “Take me to her.”
Keep your calm, she told herself as she trailed Nirka through the shining corridors. You need answers right now, not revenge. You need to look as if you’re happy to be protected by her. You need to keep everything in balance.
Farideh had almost succeeded in quelling her anger, her nerves, when Nirka opened the door, and Lorcan looked back over his shoulder at her.
She did not think about how her face was set. She did not think about the words she was going to say. She didn’t think about where Sairché was or what she needed to know or what Rhand was thinking.
Lorcan was safe. He was here. She nearly cried out in joy.
Lorcan’s dark eyes studied her for a moment more, and without a word, he turned back to the wizard. Farideh closed her mouth.
“There you are,” she heard Rhand say. “We’ve just been discussing your progress.”
Farideh’s eyes darted to the wizard. To Lorcan. He was still not looking at her—they were still in danger, after all. There was still Rhand to fool.
“Have you?” she said, scrambling for something to say. “Have you mentioned how many sessions you’ve put me through? Standing out in the cold?” Rhand smiled. He eyed her, looking like nothing so much as a starving, frostbitten jackal after his time with the shade. “Not as many as I would have liked.”
“Do what you need to,” Lorcan said. “She’s not made of glass.”
Farideh faltered. Lorcan wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t give her any sign of what she was supposed to be playacting. “I never said—”
“Not to worry,” Rhand said to Lorcan. “I’m happy to find motivation for her.”
Farideh stiffened, and she looked to Lorcan, ready for him to respond with sharp words or quick spells or worse. The muscle in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth.
“Well, kindly return her in one piece,” he said eventually. “I can’t do much with a corpse.”
Rhand chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”
Lorcan didn’t blink. “I don’t like surprises, you’ll find. I need her in one piece, as it happens, and still breathing.”
“Can I talk to you?” Farideh blurted.
Lorcan raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can.”
Farideh stared at him in disbelief. “Give us a moment alone, will you?” she said to Rhand.
Rhand was silent a long moment. “Of course.” He turned to Lorcan and offered a hand. “Well met. I trust you’ll make your own way out.” Lorcan glanced at Farideh, then slowly took Rhand’s hand.
“Well met,” he said.
The wizard shut the door behind him, and still Lorcan watched her, emotionless, distant. Farideh swallowed.
“I assume,” he said, “that between him and Sairché, you’re well appointed. So far as I’m concerned, you can continue as you have.”
“That’s it?” Farideh said. “That’s all? I am not well appointed. I have no idea what Sairché put me here for, I have no idea if I’m doing things right. Which is all aithyas at the moment: I cannot tell you how glad I am you’re safe.” She reached for him. “She promised, but—”
“He seems pleased,” Lorcan interrupted airily. “That’s enough for me.”
Farideh let her hand fall. It wasn’t an act for Rhand’s sake, she realized. Sairché hadn’t been lying about that. “I know you’re angry with me; I’m sorry—I didn’t see another way. But I’m glad you came back anyway.”
“Make no mistake,” Lorcan said, “this has everything to do with what my betters’ have demanded and nothing else.”
Farideh shook her head. “So do you have a plan?”
“Plan?” Lorcan said.
“How are we getting out of here? Or at least, what am I doing? What happens when I’ve found all these Chosen?”
Lorcan stared at her, his expression so empty and cold she felt for the first time since she’d met him that she was looking at a creature as far from mortal as it was possible to be.
“Why should you know my plans?” Lorcan said. “You don’t tell me yours.”
“What are you talking about?”
He smiled, and it reminded her, terribly, of Sairché. “Just that I’m so pleased to see Sairché’s desires lined up with yours. Felicitations on the wizard. I’m sure you’ll suit each other well.”
Farideh’s felt as if her chest were pulling into itself. Tatters of shadowsmoke leaped from her skin. “What did she tell you?”
“Everything you didn’t.”
“And you believed her?”
“You did!” Lorcan snapped. “No, I didn’t believe her—I’m not a fool. But she told me enough to see clearly that you’re not so innocent in all of this. You didn’t tell me about a wizard.”
“She told you about Rhand, but did she tell you why I know him?” Farideh said, her face growing hot. “Why I didn’t tell you? Why I don’t even want to talk about it now?”
“Where you got that lovely ritual book?” Lorcan asked. “He seems charming, by the way.”
“He isn’t,” Farideh started.
But Lorcan plucked one of the rings from Sairché’s necklace. “Spare me—I don’t care about your lovers’ quarrels and thanks to you—” He drew a sharp breath. “Thanks to you, I suddenly have a great many eyes on me I could do without. Just keep to your task, darling.” The pet name seemed to slip out, and a look approaching embarrassment crossed Lorcan’s handsome features. H
e didn’t look at Farideh as he blew through the circle of the ring, casting the whirlwind that sucked him back to the Hells.
Farideh stared at the space where he’d stood, as if she could will the portal to reverse, to reopen again. He was gone. He wasn’t going to save her. He was done with her. After so many upsets, so many upheavals, being left behind by Lorcan made her feel as if she’d been shattered into pieces. There was nothing left but hurt.
She thought of the ritual she’d managed to cast once, the spell that pulled Lorcan to her, out of the Hells. If she could just bring him back . . .
Then he would turn it all on her anyway. This was always going to happen. He was always going to leave her. She thought of Temerity, the warlock in Proskur—how betrayed she had felt by Lorcan, but how betrayed Temerity had actually been.
She didn’t hear Rhand return until he spoke. “Good,” he said. “You’re finished.”
You have no champion, Farideh thought. No one else is going to keep Rhand from hurting more people except for you and Dahl.
“Are you ready?” Rhand asked, offering her an arm.
Ready as I’ll ever be, she thought. She ate the offered highsunfeast mechanically, repeating Lorcan’s words in her thoughts again and again, just to harden her heart.
A dozen prisoners were waiting in the courtyard. Despite the flurries of snow, the guards had stripped them of any sort of cloak. Farideh edged closer—even without trying she could see several of them glowing like firebrands. An old, straight-backed human man, another with a hooked nose, a willowy elf woman with short-cropped hair.
A sturdy-looking man, deep browns and reds flickering over him—blurring together with the colors surrounding the dark-skinned boy he carried on his back. Both carried a rune, sharp and dark—like fresh soil for the boy, like charcoal for the man. The boy met Farideh’s eyes with a dark, steady gaze.
And in that moment, Farideh was sure: she couldn’t send another soul into Rhand’s fortress.
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