“You should go back to our quarters,” he said heavily. “I need to be with Akarra.”
“You think you can change their minds?”
“No. But we have to try.” He stood. “Can you find your way back?”
“Aye.”
He kissed my cheek and hurried after the dragons.
It was not only the draft from the mouth of the cavern that set me shivering in his absence. I drew my collar up and went to the edge. The mountain fell away steeply beyond the threshold, the crags and ridges shining gray and ghostly in the light of the young moon. Clouds like silver horsetails scuttled across fields of stars and my breath hung frosty in the air. It was beautiful, but with a cold and terrible grandeur that left me feeling strangely bereft. Some lingering subconscious hope had been whispering over and over in the back of my mind since the borders of Rushless Wood, though I just now recognized it: we need only to get to An-Edannathair and all will be well. That was the true battle, I’d thought. The Vehryshi or the Nestmothers or someone would rally around our cause and sweep from the mountains in a glorious wave of righteous wrath, hunt Wydrick and the other ghastradi down and, if war was inevitable, stand shoulder to wingtip with Arle’s defenders as we prepared to fight this unnamed terror.
That belief lay shattered now, that hope embittered. All this way. We’d come all this way—but no. It wouldn’t be for nothing. Alastair and Akarra were fighting their own battle in the Inner Hearth; hopeless or not, I could do no less.
I went in search of Kaheset.
How the ancient dragons had carved the labyrinth of tunnels through the peak of An-Edannathair was a mystery, but whatever the means, the purpose was clear. They intended for guests to stay where they put them. The alternative was to wander until death at the hands of weariness, starvation, or boredom. Or all three.
I paused at the branching of the fifth identical tunnel to gather my wits and silence the nagging fear that I was lost. How far could it really be? I asked for the third time, realizing as I did that I had no idea what “it” was. Some vague, half-formed concept of a dragon’s nest had lodged in my brain, some cozy chamber strewn with shed dragon scales and the remains of their last meal, but as yet I’d seen nothing but tunnel, torch-channels, shadows, and rock.
I looked around. The floor was stone, worn smooth by centuries of taloned feet and scaly bellies, and it showed no tracks. The walls too were unmarked. Sight would not help. I closed my eyes. Besides the crackle of the torches and the sound of my own breathing, all was quiet. I opened my eyes and felt the nearest wall. A dragon moving anywhere in the vicinity would surely send vibrations through the stone. Nothing but a distant grinding, and then not even that. Dust slithered down the wall where I’d touched it. Blast. I’d have to retrace my steps.
I started back the way I’d come, rehearsing the explanation I’d give to any wandering dragon I happened to meet. Am I not supposed to be here? My mistake. I must’ve gotten lost while looking for our chambers and— What’s that? Our chambers are on the other side of the Keep? And we’re near Vehrys Kaheset’s quarters? Fancy that. Well, now that you mention it, could you give me directions?
I stopped. The grinding fell silent an instant after I did. A little shudder of dust trickled down from the dark overhead.
“Master Gargoyle?”
More dust fell. I folded my arms.
“I know you’re there.”
Two points of light glowed deep within the wall on my right. “And what’s it to thee if I am?” a muffled voice said.
“Are you following me?”
“Ha!” The gargoyle sprang from the rock and landed on all fours in front of me. Knobby knees rose higher than his head, giving him the look of a heavyset grasshopper. “Accuse me of discourtesy, maiden, hmm? Will, er, wilt thou?”
I hid a smile. Relic, was he? I curtsied. “Of course not, Master Gargoyle. I wanted to thank you for your protection.”
He peered up at me. Stony ridges drew together over those glowing eyes. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“You speak of protection. Are you—I mean, art thou afraid of danger? Here?”
A little flattery would do no harm, surely. “Not with you keeping a weather eye, sir.”
He stood a little straighter.
“In fact, I bet you know all these passages,” I tried rather lamely. “I bet you couldn’t get lost in here even if you wanted to.”
“Indeed. Pray, lady, what is thy name?”
“Aliza Daired.”
“Daired.” He made a sound in his throat like pebbles in a mortar and pestle and narrowed his eyes. “Bound to that wretched warrior-lord, art thou?”
“He’s my husband, yes.”
“Hmph. Well, ’tis not the accustomed practice of those belonging to the Honor of Ignaat to rejoice in the plight of the unfortunate. You have my sympathies.”
“Alastair’s not so bad.”
“Then I see thou hast fortitude as well. As it says in the Epic of Eldrunna, ‘’Tis the great of heart and not of strength who stand under the yoke of adversity.’” He sniffed. “Hmm. I suppose thou art not half so odious as thy lord. I am Mephistrophomorphinite Ignaat, my lady,” he said, and executed a complicated bow, which culminated in the top part of his head disappearing into the floor. “Your humble servant.”
“Pleased to meet you. Mepho . . . Mephi . . . Master Ignaat, do you know how to get to Vehrys Kaheset’s chambers?”
“I beg pardon?”
“Kaheset. Golden scales, violet eyes.”
“The Keeper of Records? For what purpose shouldest thou wish an audience with him?”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Contain thy impatience, Lady Daired. As you said, I know where all things are in the Great Keep. I merely wish to know what makes you imagine he will speak with you. Er, thou.”
“Is he an important dragon?”
“Important? Ha! Hermit-like and sullen as stone-grubs at first thaw, but for his service to thy husband’s clan, the Keepers do him honor. Rarely have I seen him stray so far from the Hall of Records as he has tonight.”
“You were listening to the council?”
“Perhaps.” The brightness of his eyes dimmed and he sank a few inches into the floor. “Oh, very well. Yes, I heard. Mere chance, you understand. I was passing by and happened to overhear.”
“Naturally.”
“In truth I couldn’t help it.”
“Of course not.”
“You won’t tell, er, friend Sanar, will you?” he said, in a quite different accent. “Or any of the Vehryshi?”
“Won’t breathe a word.”
“You have my thanks.” He looked over his shoulder and cleared his throat. “In that case, as you are a lady of circumspection, it would be my honor to show you to the Hall of Records. Come. This way.”
He set off at a lope along the corridor, sometimes wading in the stone, sometimes walking on top of it. Every turning looked the same to me, but he went forward without hesitation, his diamond claws click-clacking on the ground loud enough to disguise the sound of my footsteps.
“Master Ignaat, are there any other gargoyles in the Keep?” I asked.