"There's only one way to find out."
"Isa told us she was an agent of a larger institution. She could have contacts here as well." Dante rubbed his half-numb hands together. "She's either ignoring us or she can't get to us. And I don't think it's a brilliant idea to leave this realm and go back to the Mists to find her. If there's an order of her people here, they might know more about current events anyway."
"This feels hasty," Gladdic said. "We have no way to know whether we have anything to gain from such a venture."
"We know we don't have a ton of time until the lich is on the march again. I don't feel like wasting our time sitting here when Adaine or his replacement isn't likely to return to this spot. Even so, I'll leave a scout here to keep watch—for Adaine, or for Isa."
It took an annoyingly long time to scare up another mouse. He perched it on a rock near the back of the snowy shelf, then the three of them headed downhill. There were a few game trails worn into the turf, but the way was snowy and rocky and the descent wasn't easy. They were on the eastern face of the mountains and the sun would set much sooner than the season would otherwise allow. He could feel each minute ticking by. Whenever they came to a dead end, a cliff or whatnot, rather than wasting time by backtracking, Dante smoothed the rock to let them carry on.
The town had looked to be no more than fifteen miles away, and he'd thought they might make it by nightfall. Two hours into their journey, however, it became clear that he had been terribly optimistic. Heading down to the town began to strike him as a deeply stupid idea. He was consoled by the fact his mice had seen no sign of Adaine nor Isa, inasmuch as that could be considered good news.
Sunset neared. The air had warmed noticeably as they descended, the snow reduced to irregular patches, but with the light fading, it swiftly coldened again.
"Get down," Blays said. "And hold still."
They pressed themselves behind a towering pine. Dante followed Blays' gaze to a platform built into one of the trees ahead. After watching it for a minute without seeing any movement, they stood and got on their way.
The sun was well behind the mountains now, the valley cast into shadow. After another few minutes, Dante came to a stop. "I don't think it would be wise to arrive as three foreigners in the middle of the night. Let's make camp and wake early enough to come to the town at sunrise."
"If you wanted to make camp, you should have said something ten minutes ago," Blays said. "We have to head back to the platform in the trees."
"Why? It's a quarter of a mile in the wrong direction."
"Yeah, and it's not high enough to be a lookout or strong enough to be a fort. I think it's there to keep travelers off the ground at night."
They got back to it by twilight. Wooden rungs were nailed to the trunk and they climbed up to the platform, which had a wooden railing and a low shelter set against the bole of the tree. There were blankets, too, although they were dirty and stiff.
Blays shook his out, then arranged a bed. "If we fall asleep here, do we get yanked back to our bodies like we would in the Mists?"
"I don't think so," Dante said. "It feels…normal here. More normal, at least. I feel tired like I do in our land. I don't really get like that in the Mists."
This was true, yet at the same time he couldn't be sure of it, and he'd barely nodded off before he jerked awake and sat up, confirming he was still in the hutch in the tree and not back in the woods outside Bressel. After that, however, he slept straight through until Gladdic woke him for the last watch.
Outside the shelter, it was nearly as cold as it had been in the heights of the mountains around the ravine. Above, the stars burned more brightly than he had ever seen, as bright as ether itself, yet looking at them, he felt so lost he had to grab hold of the wooden railing: for he didn't recognize a single one of the constellations, and couldn't even locate Jorus, the north star.
An hour passed in silence. Around two in the morning, with another hour until he planned to wake the others, leaves scraped below. Air whooshed through the pines, then again, soft yet powerful, like an ocean roller. The strange wind passed alongside the tree, stirring the dry, fallen needles, then flowed downhill, dying away.
He may not have known the stars, but they still seemed to be turning at the same rate as the ones he was used to, and he woke the others sharply at three. Blays was too cold and sore to do much grumbling about it. They packed their things, including some but not all of the blankets, and climbed down to the ground. Gladdic lit a small ball of ether, hoisting it over their heads.
Blays took a bleary look around, then swung his head down sharply. "Are those tracks?"
"Left by what?" Dante eyed the round, shallow depression Blays was fixated on. "A walking hillside? That's big enough to curl up and take a nap in."
"Well it wasn't here last night."
"If you're right, that's certainly weird," he said quickly. "But it doesn't matter. I want to reach the town while the sun's still touching the eastern mountains."
They got on the move, traipsing downhill. It felt good to get the blood moving. Dante let Blays take the lead as he watched the forest behind them. It wasn't long before the last of the snows gave out. The ground became less rocky and more grassy, making the game trails stand out more clearly, and they made good time.
The sun began to rise somewhere to the east, but it was still trapped behind the other range of mountains and the sky was slow to lighten. But it was enough to wake the birds, who chirped and chattered to each other from the branches. Just a few miles ahead, the town was balanced on a level stretch of a wide ridge. It wasn't large—home to no more than ten thousand people, a small fraction of Bressel—but it supported multiple proud spires of churches and lords. A stone wall enclosed it on all sides. Dante had Gladdic activate the token again. He marked the tower's position as it winked into the dim dawn.
They were less than a mile away when the sun finally broke free of the eastern peaks. All at once, golden light conquered the wide valley, beaming like the return of a lost hero. It was so sudden and bright Dante had to shield his eyes.
The city gates swung open; a strange and powerful horn blasted across the morning.
"Well," Blays said. "Suppose we can just walk in?"
Dante watched the walls for sentries. "I think it's better to try the polite way first."
"Right. That way if they turn us down, it will be their fault we had to resort to the impolite way."
A few farmers were already on their way down the road, donkeys pulling carts full of produce from the fields that covered every parcel of flat ground near the city. Dante checked them for arms but only saw walking staffs and workman's knives. Quite conscious of the sword on his hip, he came to the gates.
Guards were posted at either side, dressed in high-crowned golden helmets, bearing long pikes tipped with complicated, multi-pointed blades. They wore sleeveless tabards marked with a red circle. Their eyes went straight to the foreigners, following their progress into the city, but they didn't say a word to stop them.
The streets were paved with white stone and men were already up and about to sweep them clean. In Bressel and most of Narashtovik, many buildings were set right next to each other, forming contiguous blocks, but here most stood alone, separated from each other by small gardens and stepping-stone paths. They had high roofs that flared out at the eaves like the inner flower of a daffodil turned upside down.
Dante led the way down the sun-dappled boulevard toward the tower he'd marked from afar. People strolled about, buying produce from the stalls of an open-air market. He recognized apples and turnips and yams, but had no idea what many of the other fruits were; the air smelled like bread and rosemary but also spices he couldn't place; the people were speaking something close enough to Mallish for him to largely understand, but some words seemed altogether foreign, as did their accent. It all held a mixture of sameness and strangeness that was somehow more disorienting than if it had been fully alien.
But he had
a mission, and ignored his surroundings as best he could. After a few twists and turns, one dead end, and one instance of backtracking, they came to the tower.
He couldn't tell quite what it was: a temple, a wealthy lord's home, or something altogether beyond his comprehension. Its main body was three stories high, and supported three towers: one a single floor higher than the main structure, one two floors higher, and the last three, so that the building's silhouette resembled a small pan flute. All three towers were adorned with any number of gilded sigils that gleamed in the morning sun as if lit from within. The double doors at the entrance were gold as well.
Dante snorted. "Those have to just be plated, right?"
Blays considered them. "If they're solid, I have one question: does either of you have a door-sized pocket?"
Dante climbed the seven steps and lifted the knocker, which was iron, as was its plate. The sound boomed through the interior so loudly he took an involuntary step back after the first knock. He followed this with two softer ones.
A long minute later—long enough that Dante was thinking about giving it three full-force knocks—the left-hand door swung inward.
It was darker inside than without and at first blush the figure at the door seemed to be a spirit emerging from a darkened wood. The next step brought a young woman into the daylight. She wore a white dress that left her upper shoulders bare and ran long enough to puddle around her feet. White gloves covered her arms to the elbow and a golden chain hung about her neck.
But her face made all these things look plain. She smiled hesitantly. "Yes, sirs?"
"Good morning," Dante said. He had thought up any number of approaches to opening the conversation, but now that it was upon him, and the person before him was a pleasant young lady, and not the grizzled majordomo or brusque Isa-type he'd been expecting, they all seemed foolish. "We are…people. Who have reason to believe you can help us."
"Help you?" Her forehead wrinkled in concern. "With what manner of trouble?"
"It's a delicate matter. Is it possible to speak to the master of the house?"
"Why, yes. As long as I have reason to authorize you to do so."
"It's regarding a mutual acquaintance."
She nodded, then tilted her head. "And who would that be?"
Dante sighed silently. "Gladdic, show her the token."
Gladdic removed the silver disk from his pocket and held it out to the girl.
She opened her mouth in surprise, reaching for the token, then pulled back her slim hand. "I…I see. Come inside and I will show you to the master."
They entered. She closed the door with a gentle boom. They stood in an antechamber decorated with live plants and busts of severe-looking men and women.
The girl motioned to a wide hallway. "If you please."
Dante nodded and walked forward, trying to get a read on the woman's station. She surely wasn't a servant—not unless the Realm was truly divine—which meant that it would be polite to engage her in conversation as they walked. But nothing substantial, since she was obviously too young to be of consequence. Then what? The weather was too predictable of a topic. Something about how nice the market had been? Or how pleasant they had found the mountains once they'd gotten out of the cold?
"You know, it's funny," Blays said, walking next to Dante. "You're much nicer than the last person from your order we bumped into. In fact, she was—"
He blinked from sight: to Dante's complete consternation, he'd jumped into the nether. Dante turned and found, to his even greater consternation, that Blays had shadowalked behind the girl—and now had his sword pressed against her neck.
"—downright rude," Blays finished.
Dante was about to start yelling, but he hadn't finished taking in the whole picture. The lady had her arm raised above her head. And she was holding a long, dark sword, its blade curved like a scythe.
"Please, sir," she said, gracious yet insistent. "Would you remove your steel from my throat?"
Blays didn't. "Call me too chivalrous if you like, but I don't normally make a habit of threatening to decapitate nice young women who've just let me in the front door. But I have the strangest idea you were about to chop us in the back."
"You're not from here."
"What gave it away? Everything?"
"Then how dare you come to this place under broad daylight to knock on the door?"
"Hey, it was your tower that summoned us."
"How so?"
"It wouldn't quit winking at us."
"That was not meant for you. It was designed for different times."
Dante let go of a small part of the nether he'd called to hand as soon as he'd seen the two drawn swords. "And what times are these? We were told that, on seeing this token, those of your order would help us—and that if you wouldn't, that meant you were imposters."
The girl lowered her arm a couple of inches, looked down, then met Dante's eyes. "It's no insult to say that you're foreigners. But I don't think you even know where you are."
"You're mostly right. But we have figured out that this is the Realm of Nine Kings. I don't think we're supposed to be here. But we don't have a choice. This land and your order may be our only hope of saving our own realm."
"I am sorry, but there is nothing that can be done for the Mists now. You should pass on from it into what lies beyond, and be happy for the time you had within it."
"You think we're from the Mists?"
"Am I mistaken? Then where are you from?"
"I don't know the name for it. Until very recently, none of us knew there were other places. It seems to me to be the land of living mortals."
At last, the young woman lowered her sword. It shrank as she did so, retracting on itself until it was no longer than a carving knife. She slipped it into a sheath somewhere within her dress.
"You are from the Fallen Land?" Her confusion seemed genuine. "But how did you even get here?"
"With the help of your friend Isa. And a lot of desperation. I don't think we have much time left. Please, let us speak to your master."
She laughed lightly, almost a giggle.
Gladdic grunted. "Your wish is granted. For she is the master of this house, are you not?"
"And I would request for a second time that you lower your blade, sir," she said to Blays. "For it's difficult to make good use of one's tongue when enchanted steel is so close to one's throat."
"I'll have to remember that one," Blays said. "I may need to use it myself some day." He eased the nether-wrapped sword from her neck and put it away.
The woman took a step back and gave them a small curtsy. "To the end of the hall, if you please."
Dante hesitated a moment, then took the lead once more, trusting Blays to pick up on it if she decided to betray them a second time. He came to the end of the hall and opened a wooden door to a shaded courtyard paved with white stones and gray gravel. Well-tended trees hung above tables, statues, and little fountains filled with multi-colored fish.
The woman motioned for them to sit, then did the same. "My name is Elenna, and that is about as much as you will get from me. Now. If your time is that precious, I suggest you tell me who you are, and what has brought you to me."
Dante leaned forward, clasping his hands as he considered exactly how much to give her. But without help from Elenna, or at least someone like her, how likely were they to be able to find the next portal and put a stop to it before the White Lich had already put it to his use? He feared they were close to hopeless: which meant they had no choice but to trust.
He told her quite briefly who the lich was, and the dire straits he'd pushed them to. As he came to the consequences the lich's doorways had inflicted on the Mists, Elenna cut him off.
"In the interests of saving your time," she said, "you should assume that I am perfectly aware of the ongoing damage to the Mists, and the likelihood of their coming collapse."
"You are?" Dante said. "Are you doing anything about it?"
"No."
"Er…why not?"
A fly was buzzing around Elenna's head. She stared at it a moment and it winged away, as if ejected by the sheer power of her disapproval. "Should we?"
"Tough question, I know. If a terrible wizard was about to annihilate your world, would you want anyone to think about putting a stop to it?"
"I should expect so. But the better question is whether those other worlds might not act because they want to see mine destroyed."
That caused Dante's eyebrows to take a flying leap. "You want the Mists destroyed?"
"If the cause of that destruction lies just miles away from the many peoples of this valley, and no one is doing anything to stop it, you should assume they are under the spell of ignorance, apathy, or approval."
"And you're not ignorant. So which are you? Apathetic? Or approving?"
Elenna tucked down the corners of her mouth. "I have never spoken with one of you before, but it is becoming clear why your world is the way it is."
"That's too vague for me to understand. So I'm almost certain it was an insult."
She laughed at this. "Please follow my thoughts for a moment, sir. Unless your lands are very strange indeed, then surely it is true that in any kingdom or country, there are always some groups who do not agree with the course that territory has taken."
Blays tilted his chair onto its back legs. "Pardon my friend here, Lady Elenna. Over the years, he has taken so many blows to the head that there is nothing left inside it but a puddle. And it's not a very deep one. I'm afraid he doesn't have much ability for anything subtle. Such as flirting. Or understanding that if your lord proclaims a new law, and you don't much care for it—or even secretly oppose it—then you're not about to shoot your mouth off about it to strangers. Not unless you're looking to get hanged."
Elenna waged a bloody war to suppress her smile. "I'm afraid I find it a challenge to follow your meaning, sir. But what I do apprehend sounds like it must be very wise."
"This explains a lot about Isa," Dante said. "Was there even a link between the plaza and the Split Crypt? Or was that just a lie she told to point us toward the navel, knowing we wouldn't find it otherwise?"
The Spear of Stars Page 48
