The City of Towers

INTERLUDE

No light broke in the depths of the sewers, no source of illumination, yet somehow the darkness did not hinder his sight. Shades of gray and blue painted the world, but he could still make out every detail of his surroundings-the murky water lapping at his feet, the vast mountain of waste towering before him, and the four bodies stretched out at the foot of the hill, now without the slightest sign of rot or decay. “It’s a sad sight, isn’t it?”

The voice was a shock. Daine spun, the motion sending a splash of water across the waves. There was Jode, perched on the wreckage of an old stool, looking every bit as alive as he had last morning.

“Jode? But you’re …” He looked back at the midden heap. The corpse was still there, its peaceful expression belying the ghastly wound across the back of its skull.

“Dead? Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He inclined his head, tapping the faintly glowing dragonmark spread across his scalp. “You didn’t find my mark, Daine, so how do you know you found me? What really defined me?” He smiled and hopped down off his perch. “Water’s a bit deep here,” he said, wading over to where Daine stood. He looked down at the corpse. “Tell me, Daine, where am I in that? Can you see me in that corpse?”

“No.”

“There you have it. You said it yourself. If anyone could find a way to swindle the Keeper of Souls, it would be Jode. So why are you so worried about me? Now come on, let’s get out of the water.”

Jode waded over to one of the sewer tunnels and climbed up to walk on the raised edge.

“This is a dream,” Daine said, slowly following. “It’s all in my imagination.”

“Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s in your imagination,” Jode said. “Have you ever considered that your imagination might have been drawn into the dream?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if the dream doesn’t stop when you wake up?” As Jode spoke, the hallway in front of them began to collapse. Then Daine realized it was actually being reformed-a row of massive stone teeth were rising from both floor and ceiling. A moment later the hallway was blocked by this devilish black-marble grin. “What would it do while you were awake?”

Daine spun around, but a second row of teeth had sealed the hallway behind them.

“Perhaps it just doesn’t want to let you go.”

Daine kicked at the giant teeth. They seemed solid as any stone, and pain flared up his ankle.

Jode walked in front of him. “That’s always been your problem, Daine. Always trying to use anger as an answer. Sometimes you have to look within.”

Jode reached into his own mouth and pulled out a long key cut from white marble. He fit the key in a gap between the teeth. It clicked, and a grinding sound filled the chamber as the teeth retracted.

“What do you already know? And what are you really looking for?”

The world revealed behind the stone teeth was not the sewer hallway that they had seen before. Instead, they were in the midst of a masked ball. Dozens of dancers whirled about, elaborate costumes concealing face and form. Daine recognized this place. It was Alina’s mirrored hall in the city of Metrol. The arched ceiling of the ballroom rose far above him, and chandeliers of pale blue light floated in the air like constellations. Every surface was reflective and every dancer was broken into a hundred different images. But something was wrong. He cast no reflection in any of the mirrors. And Jode … the images of Jode were those of the bloody corpse. As for the dancers … their reflections were of the soldiers who’d fought for him in the war. Saerath, Lynna, Cadrian, even Jholeg the goblin, all watching him from the walls as they moved in the endless dance.

“You’re trapped by the past,” Jode said. “You tried to destroy your shame by becoming a hero, but your righteous cause brought only blood and death.”

Daine tried to answer but found that he could not speak. Then across the hall he saw a pale young woman with coppery hair bound above her head, dancing alone with her reflections. Her backless green gown revealed the dragonmark of Making, set just beneath the base of her neck. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Lei. He pushed through the crowd, trying to reach her, but it was like wading through a muddy swamp. He could barely move his feet, and dancers were constantly darting in front of him. When he tried to push them aside, they turned to stone, becoming even greater obstacles to his path.

The woman in green slipped further and further ahead of him. She reached the hallway that led to Alina’s private workshop. She paused and looked back at him, and it was Lei, but something was wrong-her eyes. The irises were large and violet and stood out like stars amidst the tones of blue and gray. She smiled and disappeared around the corner.

Finally, Daine reached the hallway, but Lei was nowhere to be seen. Instead, another Daine was standing there: He was younger, more arrogant, impatient for action. The watchful eye emblem of House Deneith glittered on the pommel of his sword. “Looking for someone, old man?”

“Lei …?”

“You’re a threat to those you care about, old man. You sacrificed your family for your country. You failed to save your country, and then you failed to save your friend. You even lost your grandfather’s sword.”

“Jode pawned it, and now I don’t even know who he pawned it to!”

“Do you always make excuses to yourself?”

“You’re not me.”

“And who are you?”

Daine drew his sword-Grazen’s sword. His mirror-image laughed. “It is a poor man who relies on another man’s blade.” Then he took up a guard position, and said in a bored tone, “Lady Lyrris has declared this section of the manor to be off limits to her guests. If you’d like to survive the evening, I suggest you go back the way you came.”

Daine leaped forward with a lightning thrust that should have speared his double through the knee. But his enemy swept the blow aside with a sweeping parry. He barely blocked the lazy riposte that followed, and his blade hummed from the impact.

“You’re fighting yourself, Daine,” his double said. He countered an attempted double-thrust, nearly sweeping the sword from Daine’s grip with a circular parry. “But you’ve thrown away your past, and you have yet to embrace the future.”

The younger Daine moved with lightning speed, and an arc of steel caught the flat of Daine’s blade, which shivered and shattered into a dozen pieces. A second later, the point was at Daine’s throat.

“Ask yourself,” the double said. “Who are you really? What do you want in this world? Find out quickly. You may not have much time left.”

His features shifted until he wasn’t Daine at all: He was Monan. With a wild laugh, he drove his blade home. There was a sharp, terrible pain, and Daine couldn’t breathe. He was falling, and the last thing he heard was Jode’s voice.

“There are some things I can’t say.”

Darkness….