What would happen if Ore-Locks publicly claimed that the forgotten worst of the Lhrgn, the Fallen Ones, was blood kin to a Byn, an Eternal?

Feather-Tongue was revered as a paragon of knowledge and wisdom, but also for a cherished heritage. That meant everything to any dwarf with faith, as it did to Ore-Locks. Wynn had seen her own people let belief override reason to the point of denouncing fact . . . or worse.

Ore-Locks would've been branded a heretic, at best. His family would've suffered more than they already had. And at the worst . . .

Any head shirvsh, even Mallet himself, could've incited righteous outrage. Neither Ore-Locks nor his family would've been safe-not even High-Tower. Any dwarven family, clan, or tribe coming after the domin would rouse the guild to his defense. And the royals would have used any means to defend the guild. They already had against Wynn's efforts.

The people of Malourne and the dwarves of Dhredze Seatt had been neighbors, allies, even comrades for over four centuries. Those connections could not be destroyed simply because one stonewalker yearned to clear his family's heritage by any means.

Wynn couldn't face the chance that any of this might happen. She'd stolen Ore-Locks's final hope of absolution and locked it away. She'd sacrificed his chance to be free of a hidden heritage to the Lord of the Slaughter.

Wynn had been raised, nurtured, trained to seek the truth for all to hear. Another choice like this crushed her down even more. Every muscle in her small body ached as if that growing weight were real. If anything more dropped upon her, she felt she might break. And there was more to come; she knew this.

Except for Shade, Wynn felt alone in this moment. There was no one far enough outside the guild for her to trust. There was no one here who knew enough and believed in what would come . . . not even Chane.

Shade's low rumble cut through Wynn's growing anguish.

"All right, we'll go," she whispered.

Shade's rumble grew to a snarl.

Wynn almost sighed. Was Chane coming? Maybe he hadn't received her message-or he'd ignored it.

-not . . . Chane- Shade's hackles stood on end. Her ears flattened as she bared her teeth and glared through the opening at the alcove's rear.

Wynn s.n.a.t.c.hed up the staff as she dug into her robe's pocket for her gla.s.ses. Did she sense some other undead?

Shade suddenly twisted her head, looking to the opposite opening among the four ways into the alcove. Her head whipped twice both ways before she turned again toward the front opening.

-behind- Wynn shoved on the gla.s.ses and ripped the sheath off the staff's crystal. Shade's snarl sharpened again as Wynn barely turned toward the rear arch, and she almost glanced back.

A dark form crept around the rear entrance's left side.

Wynn thrust the staff out as shapes and phrases for its ignition raced through her mind.

The sun crystal ignited.

"My eyes!"

That strange cry came the instant that Wynn's gla.s.ses blackened. She couldn't see anything except the sun crystal's dimmed point of light.

"Put that thing out!"

Wynn spun at the snarling command behind her, but still held the sun crystal toward the first intruder. The gla.s.ses began to adjust.

Beyond Shade's tense form, Wynn barely made out a tall figure outside the other alcove arch. It was dressed in a heavy cloak, with one gloved hand held up to shield its face within the cloak's hood. Beside it stood the shape of a huge canine.

Shade wasn't snarling anymore.

That is enough, little one. It is all right now.

Those strange multilingual words barely filled Wynn's head when a cry rose behind her.

"My eyes! Ah, seven h.e.l.ls, Wynn, you've blinded me!"

She spun back, staring at the first intruder, now standing in the alcove's corner between two of its openings. This one had both gloved hands clamped over its face. Only then did it dawn on Wynn . . .

Both intruders were speaking Belaskian.

Wynn instantly snuffed the sun crystal's light, and only the cold lamp's softer glow lit the dark alcove.

The figure before her was slight, tightly built, and obviously male. Beneath the cloak and the wool pullover, the collar of a leather hauberk protruded. There were unusual weapons lashed to his thighs. Around the gloved hands clamped over his eyes she thought she saw tendrils of white-blond hair.

Fright and guilt flooded Wynn at what she might've done. She dropped the staff across the table and rushed at him.

"Leesil?" she whispered, and grabbed at his hands, pulling them down.

There was his caramel-tinted face. Faint scars showed on his jawline, and those feathery eyebrows weren't quite as slanted as a full-blooded elf. He opened his eyes, blinking several times.

Wynn was still panting in fright, and then . . .

He winked at her with a sly grin. "You're just too easy to play. You know that, don't you?"

He was still blinking through a squint when Wynn sucked in a shocked breath. All the joy and relief at seeing him once more faded under fury at another of his stupid tricks.

"You . . . you . . ." she stuttered. "You . . . b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

She punched him straight in the chest.

Steel rings lashed on his armor beneath the pullover bit into Wynn's knuckles. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand back in a cringe of pain.

"Hey, what was that for?" he asked.

Looking into Leesil's frowning face, Wynn lost any irritation he always sparked with a jest. She threw herself at him, knocking him into the alcove's corner.

"Take it easy," he warned. "You going to crack my head open on the wall now?"

She just held on to him.

"Wynn?" Leesil asked, but she couldn't answer.

His hand slid across her back as he wrapped his arms around her in return. She was shaking when he clamped his hold tighter. She lifted her head and saw the concern in his slightly large amber eyes.

Wynn barely regained composure as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"What do you think you're doing with my husband?"

That caustic jibe came from behind, and Wynn quickly turned her head.

There she was, nearly as pale as a corpse.

Magiere pushed back her hood, letting loose her black hair. The cold lamp's dim light barely raised a shimmer of bloodred in those locks. Magiere closed on Wynn with a typical scowl, though she smiled, as well.

Wynn twisted away from Leesil and quickly reached out, grabbing the edge of Magiere's cloak. With a sigh of burdens dropped for the moment, Wynn buried her face against her tall friend.

"What magic are you toying with this time?" Magiere asked, and the rumble in her chest hummed against Wynn's cheek. "I'd have thought you'd have learned your lesson by now."

With her friends' arms around her, Wynn looked up to find Magiere glaring toward the staff lying across the table. Wynn wasn't certain, but she thought she saw Magiere's irises go pitch-black. Now they faded quickly to their normal rich brown.

"Where's Chap?" Wynn asked as she peeked around Magiere.

Here.

She saw him as his answer filled her head. His silvery blue-gray fur shimmered in the low light. He stood outside the alcove archway, but he was looking down the outer pa.s.sage. Why didn't he come to her?

Wynn rushed over, dropping to her knees, and slipped her arms around Chap's neck. Just before she buried her face in his fur, he whipped his whole tongue across her face.

"I missed you so much," she whispered, and then suddenly remembered Shade.

Is that her . . . my daughter? Is that what you call her?

Wynn lifted her head. Of course he hadn't known. He'd been long gone from the Elven Territories before Lily had given birth to their children.

"Yes!" she answered, looking about and finally following Chap's sightline. "I named her . . . or she named herself . . . after . . ."

Wynn looked down the pa.s.sage.

So little light leaked from the alcove that she barely made out Shade's form, but that light sparkled in Shade's eyes. Wynn heard Shade begin to growl.

Why would she do that? It was obvious these were friends, and especially with her father finally here.

"What . . . who is that?"

Magiere stood behind Wynn in the alcove's archway and was looking down the pa.s.sage.

"One of Chap's children-his daughter," Wynn answered.

"What?" Leesil tucked into the archway next to Magiere.

Wynn looked at Chap. "You didn't tell them? Why?"

In their separate ways, they are both fixed on those they consider family. It would have been another contention, another distraction from what had to be put before ourselves.

"How?" Leesil interrupted, unaware of anything pa.s.sing between Chap and Wynn. "Who's the mother?"

"The white majay-h, I'd guess," Magiere barely whispered.

It sounded almost sad to Wynn.

Leesil huffed, perhaps a half laugh. "Why, Chap, you ol' dog, you."

Instead of chiding him for crudeness, Magiere looked away.

"Shade?" Wynn called out.

Shade was barely more than a black shadow hunkering and growling in the dark. Those pinp.r.i.c.ks of eyes vanished, and Wynn heard the click of claws on stone recede in the distance. She was about to call out when Chap interrupted.

Let her go. There is nothing here for her . . . except you.

"Yes, there is," Wynn returned. "You're her father."

No . . . only the one who forced a purpose on her through her mother. That is all I am to her.

Wynn was confounded, much as she partly understood the problem. She didn't ask him why he had done that, didn't tell him he shouldn't have. She couldn't imagine being without Shade. But there was so much in her head that she had to let some of it out.

"What of the first orb?" she asked Chap, but it was Magiere who answered.

"First? How do you know of the other one?"

Wynn looked up into Magiere's eyes. "There are five, but how would you know-"

"Five?" Leesil asked sharply.

Magiere stared down at Wynn and then turned away into the alcove.

Leesil ripped off his cloak and tossed it too hard toward the table. It slid off to the floor, but he left it there. He pushed his hands through his hair, almost covering his ears for an instant.

One sleeve of his wool pullover was raggedly torn off. Long, parallel scars ran along his forearm, like the marks of claws. Leesil had a tendency to gather scars, but Wynn had never seen these before. He shut his eyes hard.

Magiere glanced at him as she dropped onto the one stool at the table.

The orbs are safe. I have seen to that.

"Orbs?" Wynn echoed back at Chap. "You had one . . . I found another."

Chap turned his head to look at her, his ears falling for an instant.

"That leaves three," she added.

No, if your count is correct, there are two left.

Chap gazed down the pa.s.sage, though no one remained there to see.

Wynn was lost, uncertain what it all meant, but for one thing. Wherever her friends had gone to hide the first orb, they had uncovered another one.

Suddenly, she wanted to go over what little she had copied from Chane's scroll and try to see which one they had found. And that thought made her turn.

Magiere glanced sidelong toward Leesil, as if she wouldn't look directly at him. He had his back to her and remained so. Neither said a word, not even to each other. And there was something more.