The Howling Delve

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Maybe you killed them all,” said Talal hopefully.

Meisha stood in the center of the cavern where they’d found Braedrin’s body. Her eyes were on the ceiling. Her arms dangled loosely at her sides.

Talal held her shirt and boots. She wore only her leather jerkin, bound tightly at the waist by her belt, and her breeches. Her lips curved as Talal fidgeted. “You’re welcome to wait with the others,” she offered.

“Cowards, all of ’em,” Talal said, pitching his voice to carry down the passage where Haroun and the others stood ready.

“One step at a time,” Meisha said, closing her eyes. “They’re taking their fates in hand. They’re already terrified to be defying the Shadow Thieves.”

“Terror?” Talal sniffed. “Terror will be when my clothes fall apart or get burned up standing too close to fire-crazed sorcerers. I’ll be tromping around here naked before I beg that bastard Balram for more clothes.”

“Gods forbid,” came Haroun’s voice from the passage.

“Just you keep that in mind while you’re clinging to the walls out there!” Talal bellowed.

“Settle down,” said Meisha. “I can hear them. Get ready.”

“Nets up,” Talal called down the tunnel. “Even if you do get them to fly down the right hole,” he said, “how do we know they won’t just chew through the ropes and get loose, maybe in the warrens?”

“I treated the ropes with poison,” said Meisha. “It isn’t lethal—not even painful—but it’ll taste awful to the bats. Besides, we only need to funnel them to the cavern off the portal room. As long as that net holds, we’ll be fine. Get down!” she shouted as black shapes began to pour from the hole near the ceiling.

Talal hit the ground as deep bats filled the chamber. He watched Meisha step back, cross her arms over her chest, and burst into a pillar of flame.

Kall passed through the portal and started to fall. He reached out blindly, his hands sliding down rocks, but there were no handholds. He fell into empty space.

Abruptly, his back and buttocks hit something solid. He flung his arms behind to catch himself, but they kept going, flailing in midair until something else caught his armpits and held him securely.

Panting, Kall looked around. Dull green glows revealed an expanse of hemp net stretched taut across a circular chasm. His legs and arms dangled through gaps in the net. All was quiet but for the swaying and creaking noises made by his weight against the rope. Beyond the chasm lay a large expanse of cavern, with tunnels adjoining either end. The tunnel in front of him was clear, but an identical, crudely fashioned net draped the one behind him.

Kall looked up and saw a mirror of what lay below him; but the shaft in the ceiling was clear of obstruction, lit by green radiances from the active portal. He watched, transfixed by the unusual perspective, as one by one his companions plummeted through the light and down the shaft.

Kall braced himself as they hit the net. Each impact jarred his back and shoulders. The net strained under their weight. Garavin’s hound howled as it tried to disentangle its legs from their painful positions.

“We need to get off this,” Kall said, noting the frayed ends of the rope looped around three nearby stalagmites. “The rope won’t hold all of us.”

“Meisha didn’t mention a death trap’d be waiting for us,” Morgan said.

“This was probably her work.” Kall helped Garavin lift Borl out of the tangled ropes. “Without it, we’d be at the bottom of the chasm.”

“Still could’ve warned us,” Morgan grumbled.

Kall waited until they were all off the net. Using his sword, he hacked the ropes free from the stalagmites. The net sailed down into the darkness.

“The Shadow Thieves will have ways to avoid the chasm,” Dantane pointed out.

“Now they’ll have to use them,” Kall said. He turned to Garavin. “What about it, old friend? Are we in the right place?”

The dwarf examined the cavern walls, clasping his holy symbol reflexively. “Aye, lad,” he said. His voice sounded unnaturally thick. “We’re here.” He turned to look at Kall earnestly. “Dumathoin is here too.”

Kall and Laerin exchanged glances. “What do you mean?” asked the half-elf.

“Where do ye feel most at peace, Laerin—closest to yer god?” asked the dwarf.

“In Erevan’s grove or Dugmaren’s tunnels,” answered Laerin.

“This is Dumathoin’s place,” said Garavin. “But it’s been tainted.”

“He’s right,” said Dantane. The wizard closed his eyes. He appeared to be listening, though Kall detected nothing breaking the stillness but the distant sound of water. “There’s some sort of distant aura in effect.”

“Meisha’s master lived in the Delve,” said Kall. “Could it be some latent magic of his?”

“I don’t think so,” said Dantane, “not unless her master was of another plane.”

“Meisha was trained as an elementalist,” said Garavin. “Might be there’s links to the elemental planes here.”

“Kall,” Morgan said abruptly, “we’re not alone.”

Kall turned. A child stood in the opening of the clear tunnel, watching them with wide, fearful eyes. Her face was pale and thin, almost emaciated. Kall took a step toward her, but she darted off down the tunnel.

“The refugees,” said Laerin. “Do we follow?”

Kall nodded. “Light two torches. Keep your weapons out but down. We have to find Meisha.”

“Kall.” Dantane pointed to the other tunnel branching off the chamber. The net strung over its mouth glistened in the torchlight. A thick, mucuslike substance dripped from the ropes, collecting in black puddles on the floor. “Something’s coming.” Kall heard it—the sound of air rushing up the too-narrow tunnel. Next to him, Borl growled from the gut, shifting agitatedly. “Get away from the net,” he snapped as Dantane bent to examine the black drippings.

The wizard ducked away as a leathery wing swiped at him. Twin lines of needle-teeth bit down directly in front of his face. The bat screamed as the black substance filled its mouth and foamed. It fluttered back against a wall of a dozen or more creatures just like it. Their wings tangled in the small space, causing them to snap indiscriminately at each other.

“The Shadow Thieves?” Laerin said. “Or are these meant for us?”

“I don’t know,” Kall said. “But we’re not going that way. We follow the girl.” He looked at Dantane. “You have the portal key? ”

Dantane touched a pouch hidden in his robes. Within, he’d placed the oblong stone that activated the portal from this side of the Delve. Rays had kept his word.

“It will be safe,” Dantane said.

Kall nodded. He and Laerin led the way down the open tunnel. Dantane, Morgan, and Garavin brought up the rear. Once out of the spell light of the portal room, the tunnel became stygian. The torches cast a glow in front and behind their group but made the air close and smoky. Kall couldn’t imagine being trapped in the enclosed space for any length of time, as the refugees had been. It would have driven him mad.

The passage turned, weaving in a snakelike pattern for several yards without changing direction. Laerin pointed to the ground, where scuffed imprints of bare feet were clearly visible, even in the wavering torch light. “She won’t be hard to track.”

Frowning, Kall held up a hand for the group to pause. He listened. “Why don’t we hear her running?”

“Maybe she’s hiding,” Laerin suggested. “We won’t hurt you, little one,” he called out down the tunnel.

Far off, Kall thought he heard a whimper. “Let’s go.”

The tunnel angled gradually, and at an intersection, Laerin guided them to the right. The tunnel dipped, forcing them to crouch and move single file.

“She’s smart,” said Morgan. “She knows we’ll catch up to her on open ground. She’s looking for a mouse hole.”

The passage turned again, and finally Kall could stand upright. He shone the torch ahead and stopped, holding back Laerin and the others when he saw the girl.

She stood at the cusp of a second intersection, as if unsure which path to take. She swiveled her head to look back. Her eyes widened when she saw Kall, and she started to dart away.

“Don’t!” Laerin shouted, springing forward.

The girl flinched. Kall saw her foot slide forward and heard the pressure plate click. The half-elf’s sharper vision had seen the trap even in the shadows.

Laerin snagged the girl by the waist and pulled her to the ground beneath him. Above their heads, a spear burst from a hole in the tunnel wall, shooting across the intersection to ricochet off stone.

“Are you all right?” Kall asked. He started to move forward, but Laerin held out a staying hand.

“Let Morgan check the intersection first,” he said.

Kall gave Morgan the torch, waiting while the rogue checked the walls and floor for more spear holes. Laerin kept a protective arm around the girl, but Kall saw him wiggle his eyebrows and whisper something to her that made her laugh. After that, her face lost much of its fear. The scene reminded Kall of how easily the half-elf had drawn him out, when he’d been a frightened boy in Mir.

He turned to Dantane. “We can’t take time to check all the walls. We need a barrier.”

The wizard considered the tunnel wall where the spear had originated. He touched the stone and began a clipped chant.

A chill breeze funneled down the passage, tugging at Kall’s hair. Dantane’s breath fogged and the veins on the backs of his hands turned a sickly yellow-blue. The red flesh beneath his fingernails bled white. All of a sudden, he stopped speaking and slapped the wall with his open palm.

The sound was that of an ice-covered branch cracking against stone. Kall half-expected the wizard’s hand to shatter, but it did not. A sheet of ice spider-webbed from his fingers, the frozen strands shooting down the tunnel and thickening, filling in the gaps until the entire wall shone white.

“That should hold anything that comes from the wall,” Dantane said.

“Floor’s clear,” Morgan added, helping Laerin to his feet.

“Can you take us to Meisha?” Kall asked, crouching in front of the girl. Her eyes shifted to the torch in his hand, and Kall chuckled. “That’s her—fire.”

The girl nodded, and Kall set off again, keeping her just behind his hip as they walked along the passage. The tunnel stayed straight, and at the end of it, Kall didn’t have to ask if they were close. He could see by the moisture dripping from Dantane’s ice wall.

They entered a deep chamber with a high ceiling. A pillar of brilliant flame stood in the center of the room, lighting it to every corner. Meisha stood within the fire column, her hands clasped together against her chest.

“She’s killing herself,” breathed Dantane in fascination.

A hearty snort echoed in the chamber. “Not hardly.”

Kall turned to see a boy of about eighteen or nineteen enter the chamber from an adjoining tunnel. He was as thin as the little girl, but his eyes held no fear, only defiance as he stared Kall down. “She just finished herding the last of ’em,” he said. “Who’re you?”

“Friends,” said Meisha. The fire died away, leaving the Harper’s skin sweat-slicked and flush. “Well met, Kall.”

“Meisha.” Kall held out his arm, and she clasped it gratefully.

“I see you brought the whole army,” Meisha said, greeting Morgan, Garavin, and Laerin with a nod. Her eyes fell on Dantane and widened with curiosity. “This one’s new.”

“Meisha Saira, meet Syrek Dantane.” Kall waited while Dantane bowed politely to the Harper. “I wish I could say that was the extent of the party, but the Shadow Thieves will be coming behind us.”

“That’s what the bats are for,” said Meisha. “We didn’t know if you’d be able to find us. We planned an ambush.”

“We’ll need it.” Kall looked at the boy. “Is this one trustworthy?”

“Likely more so than your wizard,” the Harper answered, grinning when Dantane flushed in irritation.

For his part, Talal bristled with all the fervor of his nineteen years. “Trust me not to catch on fire, without so much as a warning,” he muttered.

“Talal saved my life when I came down here,” Meisha explained.

Kall nodded approvingly. “Then I owe him my thanks as well. Go get the others together, Talal,” he said. “Not here—we’ll gather them in the entrance tunnel. We need to know where the seal is.”

Talal took off back the way he’d come. “What are you planning?” Meisha wanted to know, but Kall shook his head.

“You’ll see. Garavin and Dantane have it worked out. Meisha,” he said, pulling her aside, “where is your master, Varan?”

Meisha’s eyes were stone. “Varan is dead.”

“Dead? But your message …”

“Oh, he still breathes,” she said harshly, “and his mind functions, on some level. But there is no heart in his eyes, no passion driving his actions, unless you consider madness a sustaining emotion.”

“How did it happen?” Kall asked, shocked. “How did the Shadow Thieves overcome him?”

“It wasn’t the Shadow Thieves. They exploited Varan’s condition to get their magic items, but they didn’t put him in his current state. I don’t know how it happened, but now all he can do is sit in a room and make deadly magic.”

Kall took it all in. “So Chadossa’s illusion, the black market in Amn …”

“The what?”

“A piece of broken magic that twisted a boy into a monster. It came from the black market.” Kall’s expression darkened.

“And they got it from Varan,” Meisha said. “As far as I can tell, some of his creations work, some are … broken, and run wild. But they’re all dangerous, as long as the Shadow Thieves have them.”

Talal’s voice broke in as the boy came barreling back into the chamber. “They’re on the move,” he said breathlessly. “Every one of ’em.” He noticed Meisha’s stricken face. “What? What’s wrong?” He frowned at Kall, as if knowing instinctively he was to blame.

“I’m fine, Talal,” Meisha said, forcing a smile as she looked at him. “Are you ready to bathe in the sunlight, Dirty Bones?”

He sniffed. “Ale is what I’m aching for. Keep your water and sunshine.”

“We’ll use Meisha’s bats as distractions,” Kall said as they filed in to the tunnel. “Can you let them out safely?” he asked, looking at the Harper with concern.

“I’ll take care of it,” Meisha said.

She retraced Kall’s steps quickly to the portal room, while the others headed for the main entrance.

Careful to avoid the bats, Meisha placed her hands against the poison-treated net and called the fire. The power, simmering dangerously close to the surface, answered immediately. There was no flame, but the ropes began to smoke where her palms touched them. She waited a moment to make sure the hemp would burn, then ran back to the opposite tunnel.

She slowed, wary, when she saw Dantane waiting for her.

“What was that spell?” he asked curiously.

“It will slow-burn the net away,” she said. “Between the fire and the poison, the bats will have worked themselves into a fine furor by the time our friends arrive.”

“You’re an elementalist,” said Dantane, “and a sorceress. Have you learned to bypass spells completely, turning your raw power into whatever form you will?”

Meisha pulled on a loose end of rope left dangling by the tunnel mouth. A third net unrolled from the shelf of rock above the opening; poison slathered these ropes too. “No,” she said. “The power would burn my organs from within if I tried.”

“How can you be certain, if you’ve never experimented?”

“Because my master knew his craft. He trained all of his apprentices the same,” she said, “before they were murdered—before my master was driven mad and sealed in a lightless prison to make toys for a man I would trade my soul to slay in the most terrible of ways.”

She turned, and Dantane took a step back, disturbed—perhaps for the first time in his life—by the kindling power in the Harper’s eyes. They shone red—raw, blistering wounds in a face ravaged by grief.

“Yes, Dantane. I am a fire elementalist,” she said. “The best Varan Ivshar ever trained. And I intend to burn down the Shadow Thieves, even if it means suffering the fate I just described.”

Behind her, bats flooded the portal room.

“How many are left?” asked Balram, when Aazen entered the house.

“Four that I know of,” said Aazen. “There may be more. My contact said that when Kall departed for the Delve, he left behind the lady of the house and a handful of servants. She should not be mistaken for a helpless chatelaine,” he added. “She is a powerful servant of Silvanus.”

But Balram didn’t appear to be listening. “So Kall Morel has come full circle, back to the kingdom where he almost lost his life.” He looked at Aazen. “Now you see what comes from leaving tasks unfinished,” he said, as if Aazen were a boy sitting for a lesson. “The thorn has grown into a dagger, pressing at our throats.”

“Forgive me, Father,” Aazen offered, but there was no passion in the words.

“The past is done,” said Balram. “We will deal with what remains of Morels house and then we will never have to think of him again. Take men down to the Delve,” he instructed. “Kill them all.” He gripped Aazen’s arm when he would have walked away. “I mean all, Aazen. The Delve is due for a thorough scouring.”

“What about Varan?” Aazen asked. “Without his caretakers, he will eventually starve himself, or die of sickness, if his magic fails.”

“After you’ve killed Kall, bring the wizard to the surface,” said Balram. “The portal is no longer secure. We will continue the operation above.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aazen said. “Varan will not allow us to take him from the Delve. His magic is there. Whatever his diseased mind is planning, is there. He needs to stay in the Delve.”

“Use the Harper,” said Balram. “You said she knew him. Use her to get him to cooperate.”

“He is mad,” Aazen said clearly, trying to make his father see reason, “and the Harper is dead.”

Balram’s lip curled in a mocking sneer. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. They must have switched bodies on us. Why else would Morel be seeking the portal, unless he had been somehow warned of our connection to the Delve? The Harper bitch is alive. The tunnel rats are hiding her, and now they’ll pay the price for their betrayal. After you’ve secured the wizard, kill her and seal the portal. We have no more use for the Delve.”

Aazen didn’t know what to say. “Is this my death sentence, then?” he asked bluntly. “For betraying you as a boy and allowing Kall to come back to torment us? For that you’re sending me into the Hells, hoping I won’t return?”

Balram seemed genuinely taken aback, which gave Aazen a strange bit of comfort. “Never, my son,” he replied. “I send you because you are the only one I can trust to see this done.” He put both hands on Aazen’s shoulders, as he’d so often done when Aazen was a child. The gesture had always come across as equal parts comfort and threat. “With the Shadow Thieves at our backs, we need never worry about failure, about weakness, ever again. They are our family now.”

Family, Aazen thought, remembering Jubair’s words. What exactly did his father mean by likening the Shadow Thieves to blood? Oh yes, Balram had power now, such as he never had before, but they weren’t free to act by any stretch of the imagination. Daen oversaw all Balram’s actions, approving or denying his plans as he saw fit. Whom Daen answered to, Aazen did not know, and neither did Balram.

The Shadow Thieves wove a complex web around their organization, relying on anonymity to protect their power bases. At least, when Balram had served Morel, he knew where his superior’s authority began and ended. How much control could they truly have over their own lives if they didn’t even know the identities of their masters?

“Do you have such strong faith in your family?” Aazen said, aware even as he asked it that the question had multiple layers.

Balram took his meaning. “I would trust them, and you, with my life,” he said without hesitation.

Aazen nodded. “Then I’ll see to the Delve,” he said, “and to Kall.”

Balram watched his sons retreating back. He said, pitching his voice low, “I’ve already arranged to send a second party.” Daen stepped into the room, taking a seat on one of the dusty sofas. His bulk had diminished somewhat over the years, but any rumors that the Shadow Thief’s heart was in any way failing him found themselves quickly and brutally squelched. “You believe he will betray you again, after all this time?”

“Once was enough,” said Balram. “I’ll not be blinded to him again.”

“Ah, but you can’t beat the lad into submission anymore,” Daen pointed out. “And if he discovers you don’t truly trust him, it may send him over the edge. This course of action may come back to bite you at the heel, my friend. How can you hope to stop him if he decides to go his own way?”

“By using any number of my other sons or daughters,” Balram replied. “Those I’ve trained for a decade and more.”

“The Shadow Thieves will support you,” Daen agreed, “but that one is your blood. I wonder if you can forsake him so casually?”

“We’ll see,” said Balram.

In truth, Daen did not care whether the father or the son prevailed in this, yet he sensed in Aazen a fascinating strength: the ability to survive, even to thrive, under the most unique and terrible strain. The boy had lived in a hole in the ground and in the countless Hells of his father’s making; yet he’d come out whole, or nearly so.

Daen had recruited runaways and child-cutpurses barely surviving on the streets, but most hadn’t lived long and none ever knew who held their leads. Aazen had known that murderers and thieves protected him ever since he was a boy. He was a child of the Shadow Thieves, if such a thing existed. Daen didn’t know if that meant a long and prosperous career within their ranks awaited Aazen, or a quick death, but he decided it would be fascinating to find out. Through experience, Daen had learned to pay close attention to the people who fascinated him, whether they were intelligent, greedy, sane, or mad. The ability to read people, to judge their actions and worth, was what made Daen so successful at what he did. And the Kortrun family had made him a very rich man indeed.

Dantane trailed behind Meisha as they caught up to the others. Ahead, the passage widened into a chamber comparable in size to the portal room. The path dead-ended abruptly in a wall of loose dirt and rubble.

“This is where we came in. No need to fetch shovels,” Talal said sardonically.

“Boy’s right,” said Morgan. “You won’t be tunneling through that, not with magic on it.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” said Garavin. He scratched his thick sideburns as he eyed the wall, “Though he might relish the challenge.”

“Who?” asked Talal.

The dwarf grinned at the boy. “Ye’ll see.” He handed Dantane a tightly wrapped scroll sealed in green wax and bearing the imprint of an open hand lying upon an anvil.

Kall recognized the seal of the Fallstone clan. As a boy, he’d seen it depicted on several documents in Garavin’s map room.

Dantane unrolled the parchment and read for several breaths, nodding as if he’d seen similar text before.

“Clear enough?” asked Garavin.

“You’re certain you can control this?” asked the wizard. “There’s no time to construct a summoning circle.”

“It’s not a summoning in the traditional sense,” said the dwarf. “More like a calling. He may answer or not, as he prefers, but he’s never denied me before.”

Dantane’s eyes moved rapidly over the text. Finally, he let his hands fall to his sides and closed his eyes. He murmured what might have been a prayer under his breath, opened his eyes, and began to read aloud from the parchment.

This time his voice carried, booming unnaturally across the chamber. A tremor of unease went through the refugees. Kall motioned to Talal to keep them still.

The echo of Dantane’s casting seemed to stick in the walls, building to a steady rumbling Kall could feel in the stone itself. The air felt thick, as if he were breathing rock dust or sand instead of air. The cavern seemed to grow smaller around them. A single rock in the center of the cavern swelled in size before his eyes, expanding to fill the chamber, forcing the refugees back against the far wall. A few of the people cried out or tried to run, but there was no room. A boy standing near the front of the crowd stumbled and went down on his knees. A foot scuffed the side of his face as he tried to stand. He fell again, harder.

“Cease!” Kall barked over the rumbling, and his voice, too, seemed eerily magnified. The crowd quieted, and Kall helped the boy to his feet.

Kall turned again to look at the rock, expecting it to have returned to its normal size as the disorientation cleared. It hadn’t. It had, if possible, gotten larger, and now appeared to be breathing. Slow inhalations and exhalations like the wind through a long chimney flue were punctuated by a deep moan coming from somewhere beneath the thing.

Kall had listened to Garavin tell stories of the delvers, beasts friendly to the dwarves. The slablike tunnel dwellers were as large and as cumbersome as boulders, and this one was no exception. Moving by inches and trailing a stain of sticky fluid, the delver made its way to where Garavin stood with one boot propped on the rock pile.

The dwarf put out a hand—in greeting, Kall thought; but Garavin laid his palm gently across the ridges and slopes that might have passed for the thing’s face and bowed deeply, his holy symbol falling against his nose.

The low moan came again, and Garavin nodded as if in answer to a question with no words. “A poor way to wake, to be sure,” he said, in tones of sincere regret. “We would not have done so, if our need was not great, Iathantos. Dumathoin has asked, and so I must ask ye to aid us, for ye’re the only one who can.”

The delver fell silent. Kall looked around at the refugees, but they, too, were quiet, riveted in awe or horror at the exchange between the dwarf and the huge, living stone.

Finally, the delver shifted its great body, shuffled backward a step, and moaned again. Garavin inclined his head in response.

“My thanks.” He pointed to the base of the rock pile, and the delver came forward again, engulfing the space with his bulk. There was a sharp cracking and a sloshing release of sizzling liquid. The stones turned dark with wet, and the delver began to burrow into the cavern floor.

Garavin walked back to the group, shaking his head, but he was smiling. He laid a hand on Talal’s shoulder, guiding the boy to where he could see the churning as the delver took the stone into itself.

“He’ll tunnel ye out, and do it gladly,” the dwarf explained. “He absorbs minerals from the stone to nourish himself, and being that we’re close to Keczulla, this rock is richer in them than most. That, and his loyalty to Dumathoin, made him answer our call.”

“But it’s not a dwarf,” said Talal. “Not even a person. Why would it serve a dwarf god?”

“Because it thinks and understands like any other sentient creature,” said Garavin. “It may take him longer, and he may never aspire to the intelligence of two-legged folk, but he’s capable of despair and loneliness, and of needing to combat those emotions.”

“Then why doesn’t it have its own god?” Talal pressed. “Someone who understands him.”

Garavin met Kall’s eyes briefly, and Kall knew what he was thinking. Talal’s questions were not unlike another cautiously stubborn boy’s curiosity. “He might have,” the dwarf allowed, “I only know he serves Dumathoin for the same reason I do: to keep the secrets of the stone, and to bring the rest into the light, whether it’s gems and gold, fossils of history, or—”

“Us,” Talal cut in, his expression thoughtful. “Down in the dark, where no one can see.” He touched the patch of naked skin on his head. “Balram thought he could keep us a secret.”

“But Dumathoin would not have it so,” Garavin said. “Sooner or later, all secrets come to light, whether we want them to or not.”

“Will they be safe?” Kall asked Garavin, watching the delver work.

“Yes. Iathantos will protect them. He’s given his word,” said Garavin. “If any Shadow Thief gets past us, they won’t care for the fight they’ll find waiting.”

“What’s he mean?” asked Talal, looking to Meisha for an explanation.

The Harper appeared torn. “We have to leave you now,” she said, shaking her head when Talal opened his mouth to argue. “The Shadow Thieves will have learned about Kall’s rescue party by now. They’ll be coming, and we have to meet them. An all-out assault will give the creature time to tunnel deep enough to cross the boundaries of the enchantment.”

“Once you’re outside, head for Keczulla,” said Kall. “The delver will take care of any guards outside the entrance, but I doubt there will be any. They don’t expect you to escape that way. Use my name at the city gates.”

“Ignore it when their visages pale and they soil themselves,” said Morgan.

Kall glared him into silence. He slipped a ring off his finger and handed it to Haroun. The emerald and stone, in its gold setting, was the first symbol of his new status. Garavin had made it for him long ago using Cesira’s enchanted speaking stone.

Haroun slid the ring onto her thumb. Her eyes swam with tears. “How can we thank you?”

“You saved my life,” Meisha said. She looked at Talal, but the boy was shaking his head mutinously.

“I want to stay with you,” he said, “for the fight.”

“Ha,” Meisha said. “You don’t mean that, not when you’re scenting freedom at last. No”—she shook him playfully by the shoulder when he tried to protest—“No more death-seeking for you, little Dirty Bones. We’ll follow you out once we take care of the Shadow Thieves.”

Morgan and Laerin filed back down the tunnel. Dantane and Garavin followed. Meisha took one last look at Talal and Haroun, who stood apart from the rest. Haroun had a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“They’ll be safe,” Kall said.

“I know.” Meisha allowed the others to get some distance ahead of them, then she clasped Kall’s wrist to slow him. “Balram’s lived too long, Kall,” she said fiercely, “taken too much. It’s time to end him. You promised me.”

“Meisha, I’m sorry about your master—”

“Don’t,” Meisha cut him off. “When I saw him sitting in that room … you can’t imagine how it felt.” She caught her breath and looked at him sharply. “No, that’s wrong. You can imagine. You’ve seen it before.”

He nodded grimly. “Rage blocks all reason. You’ll do anything to fix things. You’ll forgive him any terrible thing he’s ever done.” Kall touched his sword hilt. “I’ll keep my word, Meisha.” He pointed to the tunnel. “Let’s go get Varan.”