And for little else, Kathryn thought. Ulf might be a sculpture of ice, but apparently the similarities ran deeper than mere appearance.

"What about Eylan and the ilked wraiths?"

"Unfortunate circumstances. I had meant to trap Tylar with the seersong, but caught a smaller fish instead. And need I remind you, it was your forces who destroyed her in the end. Which is another matter entirely. I felt the unthreading of the song in her minda"but could not fathom how it was done."

"The wraiths?"

Again a hand waved. "To be borne aloft in the storm of Dark Grace, there was bound to be some matter of corruption. It was a risk all my Grace-born were aware of before they swept out from Ice Eyrie. But I still watch over them, controlling them with seersong to keep them focused to my will."

"Seersong? So you admit to employing a Dark Grace?"

An icy shrug. "Grace is neither bright nor dark. It merely is. It is the heart of the wielder that is either bright or dark."

Kathryn shuddered. She didn't know which she feared more: that Lord Ulf was locked in some rich lunacy or that he was dreadfully sound of mind. She had thought the Cabal had been using Ulfa"could it be the other way around? Or was it both, two partners dancing cautiously together, each using the other toward a common purpose?

To rid Myrillia of a godslayer and destroy his sword.

But now both had escaped this trap.

"Then with Tylar gone, what do you still want?"

Lord Ulf faced her. "I want your help in destroying Tashijan."

Kathryn backed a step. "Are you mad?"

His ice eyes glinted in the firelight. "Not even slightly."

"Have you seen Castellan Vail?" Laurelle asked, breathless with anxiety.

"Not since before midday," Delia said. "Why?"

Laurelle stood with her fellow Hand in a small room, no more than a closet, across the stair from the fieldroom. She and Kytt had been waiting a full bell for Tashijan's council to disband for a short break. The young tracker stood at the door, watching the hall.

Moments before, Laurelle had waylaid Delia as she left the fieldroom and silently motioned for her to follow. She had led the woman to the closet with some urgency.

"What's happened?" Delia asked.

"We've run all the way up to the castellan's hermitage, then down again. Castellan Vail is not in her rooms. And no one knows where she's gone. Her maid was as skittish as a pony when I questioned her. I bribed a guard who reported some mischance with Master Gerrod, found frozen in his armor."

"Frozen?" Delia gasped. "Dead?"

"Noa"" Laurelle took a deep breath to collect herself. "Some matter with his mekanicals. He's been attended by another master, and afterward both vanished in some hurry. All I could ascertain was that Castellan Vail had disappeared as well."

"I've heard of nothing about any of this. Master Hesharian has mentioned no word."

"I'm not surprised. You've all been holed up in that room for going on three bells. I don't think whatever is afoot was something the castellan or the armored master wanted the warden to know about. Or anyone else in there."

Delia's eyes grew shadowed as she pinched her brow. "So much hawing and posturinga" She waved a dismissive gesture at the fieldroom. "Before the meeting begins anew, I'll discreetly inquire about the castellan from those I trust." She stepped toward the door.

"No. Wait!" Laurelle urged. "That's only half the reason I've come. I had hoped to find Castellan Vail here. To report word of what Kytt and I discovered."

Delia stared back at her.

Laurelle quickly related how she and Kytt had stalked Master Orquell and witnessed his strange communion with his mistress in the dark. "It was plainly Dark Grace. And the woman in the flamesa"

"Mirra," Delia said with a frown, coming to the same conclusion.

"He probably warned her about the skull. No telling what else he has told her."

Kytt hissed by the door and waved. Laurelle and Delia joined him. Peeking out, Laurelle saw a familiar shape, as if summoned by their words. Master Orquell was headed down the stairs, leaving again on his own. Down the hall, Master Hesharian could be seen huddled with Liannora and Warden Fields. All seemed oblivious that Orquell was leaving.

Laurelle gripped Delia's arm. "What are we to do?"

"I'll have to tell my father," she muttered sourly. "Spy or not, the truth will be soothed from the mastera"but such arrest would require a warden's order." She glanced to Laurelle. "Are you sure what you saw?"

"Dead certain."

Kytt nodded.

"Then we have no choice."

"What about Master Orquell?" Laurelle asked. "He should be followed. Before he divulges more secrets from the day's meeting."

Delia shook her head. "Nothing of import was related just now, mostly just Liannora's fawning and scraping. Leave Orquell to the warden's knights."

"Buta""

"You were foolish to risk what you did. Return to your rooms. I will bring word to you when I'm able."

Laurelle bristled at being ordered about like a child, but a part of her was also relieved. She had succeeded in passing on a warning, if not to Castellan Vail, at least to someone in power. It would have to be enough.

"Make sure no one sees you," Delia concluded. "Straight up to your rooms. Kytt, please stay with her."

He nodded.

Satisfied, Delia slipped out the closet and headed round the stairs toward the far hall. Laurelle waited a breath, then stepped out, too. Kytt trailed her.

"There's a back stair over that waya" Laurelle pointed the opposite way. "I think."

They headed off together.

Before reaching a turn, Laurelle glanced back. Delia had stopped by the stair, huddled with a guard. She pointed an arm down the hall, to where Argent stood. Then her arm dropped. She was clearly angry. She glanced her father's way, nodded, then stepped after the guard, heading down the same stairs where Master Orquell had vanished.

Concerned, Laurelle stopped. Clearly something or someone had thwarted Delia from delivering Laurelle's warning. Searching farther down the hall, she noted Liannora standing with her arms crossed, wearing a thinly veiled smile.

Oh noa Laurelle studied the guard more closely. His chin lifted briefly in her direction as he turned to follow Delia. His features were clear.

It was Sten, captain of the Oldenbrook guards.

Only now did Laurelle remember an earlier message she had intended to deliver. A warning meant for Delia. It had been pushed to the side after the harrowing discovery of Master Orquell's true nature. Laurelle clutched her throat, remembering what she had overheard while she hid in Brant's rooma"whispers of accidents, misfortunes, directed toward Delia.

Offered by this same captain of the guards.

The one who now dogged Delia's steps.

Laurelle reached behind and grabbed Kytt's arm. She tugged him forward.

"What are youa"?"

"We're going to need that handsome nose of yours again."

He allowed himself to be dragged along. "Handsome?"

They dared not tarry.

"Hurry."

She led him back to the stairs, careful that no eyes were staring too intently in their direction. Laurelle kept her back straight as if she belonged and was going about some urgent matter. She pasted a haughty look upon her features as she passed a guard by the main stair. She sighed with a ringing petulance toward Kytt.

"Oh, please hurry, boy. We can't keep my seamstress waiting."

She minced down the steps with feigned exasperation, Kytt in tow. Once out of direct view, she reached out and took his hand.

"Let's go."

They hurried down the flights until voices reached them from the lower landing. "I see no reason why this could not wait," she heard Delia exclaim. "A drunk Hand is a matter for the guards to attend."

"It is one of your realm's Hands, mistress. From Chrismferry. Master Munchcryden." Sten sighed. "Mistress Liannora thought you'd prefer to avoid any embarrassment, especially for someone serving the fieldroom."

"How generous of her," Delia commented.

"Plus Master Munchcryden has specifically asked for you."

"Very well."

Laurelle knew how protective Delia was of the Hands left in her charge. And all knew Master Munchcryden's disposition when it came to ale. It was a perfect excuse to lure Delia away for a few moments. A reasonable request. Then she could return to address the concerns raised by Laurelle.

But Delia had not heard the plot whispered in the hall.

It is easy to trip on a stair. To break a legaor even a neck.

"Off here, mistress. There's a back way, a little-used stair, where we can haul Master Munchcryden back to your rooms with few eyes present to note his state."

"Let's be quick, then."

"After you, Mistress Delia."

Laurelle rushed down to the next landing, rounding in time to see Sten vanish down a side passage. Kytt touched her elbow, not to stop her, only to warn her to be careful.

She had only one weapon. Her eyes, as witness.

Surely Sten would not harm Delia if there was a chance others would find out. He would have to back down.

Laurelle left the landing and headed down the hall toward the side passage where Delia and Sten had vanished.

Words carried back to her.

"Who are these men?" Delia asked, her voice muffled by the narrowness of the cross passage. Still, Laurelle heard a sudden note of suspicion.

"My men," Sten answered calmly. "To help carry Master Munchcryden."

Laurelle ran faster.

"The stairs are just ahead," Sten assured her.

Reaching the arched opening, Laurelle spotted the grouping midway down the passage, huddled at the head of a dark stair. One of Sten's men held aloft a lamp.

Delia took the first step down.

Laurelle lifted an arm. "Mistress Delia!"

Her call rang out just as Sten shoved with both arms. Delia had begun to turn, drawn by Laurelle's crya"or perhaps sensing something amiss.

She shouted in surprise as she tumbled headlong out of sight. A crash of body on stone echoed to Laurellea"and Delia's cry suddenly ended.

Laurelle found all eyes staring at her.

Sten lifted an arm. Laurelle backed away, bumping into Kytt.

Shadows shifted to the right. Laurelle saw more guards, more of Sten's men, crossing from the main stairs into the passageway, latecomers, cutting off their retreat in that direction.

Swords slid from sheaths.

Kytt pulled Laurelle in the opposite direction, away from the stairs, toward the deeper depths of Tashijan. She stumbled after him.

Behind her, she heard one last order from Sten. "Go down. Make sure her neck is broken."

Laurelle ran. Terror could not stop the tears from welling. Kytt led the way, hand in hers, turning one corner, then another with some instinct born of fear and Grace.

Still, boots pounded after them.

"Tashijan is rotted," Lord Ulf said. "To the very stones of its foundation. From root to rooftop."

Kathryn shook her head. Though the fire was at her back, the room had gone colder than the darkest crypt.

"Mirra has weeded seeds throughout your towers," Ulf stated firmly. "And she is not the first. What you discovered below is but the first sprouts of a greater evil. It winds throughout Tashijan, deep into the past. And if left unchecked, far into the future, where our world will lie in ruins, trod by monsters a thousandfold worse than any carried by my winds."

Kathryn held up a hand. "But now we know about Mirra's treachery. We can stop her."