Leah held up her Source in one hand, but she held her other palm up in warning. "I have conditions. You must only take*"

The six-eyed creature ignored her. He reached out one thick, three-fingered hand, grasping Leah's Source. Leah jerked her hand back, trying to pull the crystal out of Seliethin's grip, but he was far too strong.

All six of Seliethin's eyes closed, and he inhaled deeply. The light in the four-pointed crystal dimmed, then dimmed again. In seconds, it seemed as if there was a white candle barely flickering in the crystal's depths.

Seliethin released his grip, and Leah immediately banished the Source back to her sanctum.

"How dare you," she said, feeling both incensed and violated. The Source was personal. Too personal to let him grab, certainly. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't trap you here until you rot?"

The side of Seliethin's mouth quirked up, showing his amus.e.m.e.nt. "For one thing, because I have the majority of your power now. I doubt there's anything you could do to me that I couldn't undo."

Briefly, Leah considered summoning her crown and teaching him just how wrong he was.

"Ultimately, though," Seliethin went on, "it's because you need me. And now, dear Heiress, I am at your disposal."

The blue ape bowed once again, one hand against the ground to keep him from falling over, the other crossed politely in front of his chest. Where had he learned courtly manners in this gray desert?

"Get the crystal, Seliethin," Leah said. "Don't disappoint me."

Without another word, Seliethin turned and loped away.

In the distance, a crystal formation shattered like dropped gla.s.s. The Enosh Travelers both whipped around to face the noise, the crystals floating behind them spinning like wagon wheels.

Behind them, at the base of the cliff on which Leah rested, another crystal shattered. They spun in her direction.

Then the ground began to shake, sending sand bouncing into the air. A voice boomed out from nowhere, chanting in an ominous language that Leah couldn't identify.

Bolts of white light, like miniature stars, shot out from the crystals behind the Enosh Travelers. The lights blasted forward in a string, but the Travelers had no target. The shots detonated against a cliff in the distance.

Leah couldn't help but admire Seliethin's work. She had no idea what kind of Lirial Traveling would make the ground shake like this.

But how was this supposed to get her crystal? The two Travelers had been distracted, but they were actually backing towards each other instead of running off, moving even closer to Leah's hidden surveillance crystal. How did Seliethin intend to separate them?

Leah felt a finger tapping her on the shoulder and she spun around, calling power from her Source.

Seliethin stood behind her, his six eyes blinking randomly, holding a crystal out to her in his open palm.

"Howa?" Leah began, but she couldn't finish the sentence.

The bluish ape executed a smooth bow, the crystal still extended. "A gentleman must have his secrets."

Back in her Enosh rooms, Leah placed the recording crystal in the center of her bed. Then she drew in one deep breath, and called power from her Source.

In her mind, she saw the Source's light sinking to dangerous levels, but she couldn't afford to be stingy now. She had to know what the Grandmasters had discussed, even if it turned out to be just a routine budget meeting.

Sparked by power from her source, the crystal flared to life. It worked something like a shard of her scrying crystal, though not quite as convenient. Within the confines of the plum-sized slice of crystal, an image bloomed. The surface of the crystal wasn't big enough to see the whole room, and it could only watch from one angle: the place where the Lirial Gate would have opened. Unfortunately, in this case, it turns out the Lirial Gate would have opened slightly behind and below Grandmaster Asphodel's chair.

Leah was treated to a grand view of the soft, round Grandmaster shifting position in her chair, scratching the back of her head, and sighing in frustration or boredom.

Her point-of-view shifted steadily, drifting from right to left at a snail's pace. Every few seconds, the picture would fuzz out to silver dust, and then re-form. That was due to the shifting interference of Lirial's moons, she was sure.

But the problems with the image scarcely mattered. The crystal had also captured sound, so now she could hear the Grandmasters' meeting in full.

Only a few minutes into the recording, she found herself stunned.

They're going to attack, she thought. She had to act.

She pressed a hand against the wall and reached into herself, into her blood, stoking the power there until her hand started to burn.

Then she reached out to Ragnarus.

The Gate to the Crimson Vault tore itself open on the wall, looking out into a familiar set of silver doors. The bearded, one-eyed old man glared at her from the doors, the unnatural red torches to either side giving his face a b.l.o.o.d.y cast. Even the edge of the Ragnarus Gate glowed slightly red, where the image of the Crimson Vault ended and the mundane wall began.

Leah hesitated at the Gate. She could only Travel through Ragnarus in one direction: to her father's palace in Cana, capital of Damasca. No matter where you entered the Crimson Vault, you could only exit into Cana. She would have to use Lirial to return here, which meant a risk. Sometimes, the journey would take seconds. If she was impossibly lucky, the Gate for Cana and for her room in the Grandmasters' palace would be only two steps apart. She would enter Lirial, walk two steps, and then open a Gate back.

However, the moons shifted. It was just as likely that the two points would be a hundred miles apart, in which case she would have to either wait until the moons shifted into a more favorable position*which could take several nights*or take a horse from Cana's stables and just ride normally to Enosh. That would raise a few questions.

This is more important, Leah told herself firmly. She stepped forward into Ragnarus and, before she could reconsider, let the Gate close behind her. Then she turned, putting her back to the silver doors.

Odd sounds came from behind her, within the Vault: a sort of scratching, tapping sound, like a dozen spiders skittering across stone, and a howling like distant wind. She had to fight the urge to turn back around; the Gate wouldn't work if she tried to open it while facing the Vault proper.

But facing back the other way was worse. There was no cavern wall behind her, just an empty stretch of darkness. Unexpected smells drifted on the lazy air: one puff of wind brought the smell of ice, another was tinged with rotting vegetables, and she thought she smelled something like the musk of a huge animal. Being here was always confusing, and never comfortable. Best to move on.

Unfortunately, tearing a Gate out always took longer than the Gate in. Almost a full minute after she had started concentrating, the Gate slowly tore itself open, and she looked out onto her father's palace.

More specifically, she looked out onto the Blue Room. Queen Cynara, who had originally commissioned this palace, had apparently thought that returning Ragnarus Travelers would need a break from all of that uninterrupted red, so she made sure that this room*ready to receive returning royal Travelers*was completely blue.

Blue stone pillars stood at the corners of the room, and the tiles underfoot bore a pattern like the tropical ocean, shifting from shades of green to a deep, almost purple, blue. The ceiling above was painted like a summer sky, with even hints of clouds forming near the walls. Two attendants, both wearing blue instead of the normal red-and-gold palace uniform, stepped forward. One offered Leah a clean towel to wipe off her face and hands after her journey, and the other bore a pitcher of water. As soon as she stepped through the Gate, he poured her a gla.s.s.

A visitor wouldn't be able to tell, but both servants were actually low-ranking Travelers, probably from Tartarus or Asphodel. They were stationed here for two reasons: their primary purpose was to force back any enemies that somehow managed to infiltrate the palace through Ragnarus. It had never happened, but paranoia had proved itself a healthy habit over Damasca's three-and-a-half century reign.

Their secondary purpose was to be there if anything came through a Ragnarus Gate uninvited. Leah had never seen any living creature native to Ragnarus, but she had no doubt they existed. And if one came through, these guards were supposed to do their best to slow it down. Before they died.

She had never heard of a breach, and her father had once declared that there was nothing to worry about in that regard. But they had to replace these guards with disturbing regularity.

Leah took the towel as she stepped down from the pedestal where her Gate emerged. Wiping off her hands, she asked, "Where is my father?"

One of the servants bowed. "He is personally overseeing the war in Helgard, Highness."

Leah turned to the servant and raised one eyebrow. "The war?"

"No doubt Your Highness has heard of our successful attack on the Helgard Grandmaster."

Leah nodded. The Grandmasters had mentioned that fact in the meeting she had recorded, though Leah had already noted that the new, bear-like Grandmaster Helgard was obviously new to the position.

"The heretics are attempting revenge, Highness," he said. "Your father has gone to reinforce his Travelers on the twenty-first floor of the Tower."

"Very well," Leah said. She turned to stride out of the blue room, heading for the Helgard Travelers' barracks.

"Heiress Leah," the chatty servant said again. Leah turned back around. Two years ago, she would have been piqued and offended that this servant had both stopped her and addressed her by name at the same time. After years in Myria, though, it almost seemed normal.

"Yes?"

"I can take you, Heiress," the servant said. He moved his head to the right, revealing a tattoo on the side of his neck: a blue tower.

Travelers posted here as guards had almost always done something wrong*usually incompetence or a gross political blunder*and were sent for temporary duty here as a kind of punishment. They were always loyal, but rarely the best in the city, and they were never supposed to reveal their ident.i.ties as Travelers, even to members of the royal family. Well, except in case of emergency.

And she supposed this qualified.

"Do it, Traveler," she said. The man nodded and stepped to one side, his partner rushing out of the room. The Helgard Traveler began to chant under his breath, as though he were reciting the lyrics to a song too fast to be understood.

Finally, the air bloomed into a swirling vortex of snow: a Gate to Helgard. On the other side, she could see nothing but blowing snow.

The bitter cold filled the room in seconds, cutting through her thin brown peasant's dress like an icy knife.

"I wanted you to take me to the twenty-first floor, Traveler," Leah said. "Not outside the Tower."

The Helgard Traveler grimaced; he didn't seem bothered by the cold, which she supposed was to be expected. "This is the twenty-first floor, Highness," he said. "I hate to think why they've called up this much snow, but it's likely not good. The twenty-first is supposed to be solidly under our control, but this smells like a battle to me."

Leah stared into the blizzard. "Well, I can't go in there dressed like this. Send to my rooms, for*"

The second servant in blue hurried back into the room, a coat and thick red cloak over one arm and a pair of high boots in the other.

"This was all your bedroom attendants had on hand, Heiress Leah," the second servant said, executing a bow. "If you would like to wait, I am sure I could find more."

"This will do quite nicely, thank you," Leah said. Her mother had always discouraged her from thanking the help, except in cases of extraordinary service. "When I get back, remind me to promote you."

The young man beamed and handed Leah her coat.

The Helgard Traveler cleared his throat discreetly. "Heiress, is the Gate to your satisfaction?"

Leah knelt to lace up one of her boots. The helpful servant stepped forward to a.s.sist her, but she waved him away. "I'm sorry, Traveler, but I make it a policy to promote only one person per day. And unfortunately for you, this is my favorite coat."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one servant shoot the other a triumphant grin.

Her boots and coat were lined with fur, but they were both bright red, marking her as a member of the royal family. She would show up on a field of snow like a bloodstain.

Well, she would have to risk it. Even with her Lirial Source as depleted as it was, she was hardly helpless.

She flipped up her hood and stepped into Helgard.

The cold air seemed to mock her cloak and jacket, shredding the layers and pressing against her skin like a blanket of ice. She slogged through the snow toward the only landmark she could make out: a low, distant wall of gray stone.

Her boots were made well enough to keep out water, which was fortunate, but her dress was not. Her coat and cloak covered most of her, but snow still found a way to her skin, melting and running down her body in ice-cold rivulets. She couldn't stop shivering.

Worse, she started to hear things. Even over the ambient roar of the driving snowstorm, she began to hear the sounds of Travelers at war. The snarl of a great cat competed with a call like a distant trumpet. A long, rolling crack, like the sound of a tree snapping under its own weight, shattered the sound of the wind. On the heels of that sound, the ground under her feet shivered and shook. A layer of powdered snow lifted in a ring, blasted away from the gray wall in an invisible explosion.

Leah had some severe reservations about walking closer to a battle like that, but she had no choice. This information was too critical to withhold, even to wait for her father's return. Though perhaps she should return to the palace, and come back here with an escort of expert Helgard Travelersa No, her safety was secondary. She would have asked the Helgard Traveler on duty in the Blue Room to accompany her, except that Travelers in his position were strictly forbidden to accept any a.s.signments that took them away from the palace.

But she could prepare.

In her mind, Leah reached out for Ragnarus. Usually, Lirial would be her preference for self-defense, but her Source had reached critically low levels. Until she could replenish its energy, she should save Lirial for an emergency.

A warm weight settled on her head as her royal crown arrived. It was a circlet of polished, red-tinted silver, with a single ruby set above her brow. Fortunately, it pulsed with an inner heat, refusing to give in to the cold of Helgard. She was glad of that; otherwise, it would have felt like wearing a halo of ice on her head. She was cold enough as it was.

As she approached the gray wall, a shadow rose up in front of her. Almost ten feet tall, it stood like a man, but its silhouette was thicker than any human being. As it lumbered closer through the snow, she made out a thick pelt of curly fur, and short horns on the head.

Seven stones, Leah thought. A mirka. She had never seen one outside of a book. Not that she had ever wanted to.

The mirka leaned forward and roared, close enough that Leah smelled its rotting breath. In one of the mirka's paws, a huge jagged icicle began to form, freezing out of nothing. Leah staggered backwards on instinct, but she knew she would never get far enough in this snow. Mirka were known to be able to hurl their spears of ice hundreds of paces, taking down their prey. What little the mirka left of its meal would be devoured by hungry icefangs.

Leah focused on her crown, and the ruby began to glow. She would have to use the crown after all, though its aftereffect would make delivering the news to her fatheraproblematic.

The mirka drew its arm back to throw, and Leah opened her mouth to speak, but a clump of glittering snow detached itself from a nearby s...o...b..nk and hurled itself at the mirka's arm. The snow growled and snarled like two bobcats trapped in a sack.

An icefang. An icefang had attacked the mirka. Leah felt an instant of profound relief, and then confusion. Icefangs were scavengers; they haunted the snow of Helgard, waiting for corpses, or else the weak and injured. Why hadn't the show-shark attacked her, the relatively soft and unprotected prey?

The clump of snow bunched up on the mirka's bicep, tearing off bits of flesh with its hidden mouth. The mirka roared as a line of dark blue blood ran down its furry arm, and it slammed its giant icicle into the icefang like a club. The icefang burst into a cloud of snow.

Then a second and a third icefang burst from the mirka's feet in a spray of snowflakes. They crawled all over the mirka's exposed flesh, growling and biting viciously.

They must have been summoned. A friendly Traveler had to be directing these icefangs, or they would have never worked together to bring down strong prey with an easy meal nearby. Leah started to walk in a wide circle around the battling creature, keeping a wary eye on the nearby snow. Patches of innocent-looking snow that glittered as though scattered with broken gla.s.s could be icefangs lying in wait. And if one of the scavengers was on the move, a moving furrow on the snow would be all the warning she would get.

The mirka finally managed to throw off or destroy all the icefangs, and it swiveled its head, sniffing the air. Looking for her.

Leah sped up, trying to get closer to the presumed safety of the gray wall. But the mirka spotted her and let out a roar of pain and rage. Practically all of its fur was matted down with its own navy blue blood.

It took one step toward her.

Then the air exploded.

That was what it sounded like, anyway: like standing in the middle of a thunderclap. Leah screamed, but she couldn't hear herself; it felt like something in her ears would tear.

The rest happened in an instant. Something slammed into the mirka's side, fast as a bolt of lightning, and Leah got a quick and blurry glimpse of crimson and gold. It hit the mirka so hard and fast that the beast seemed to vanish, blasted away and out of Leah's sight so fast that she could barely see it move.

The wind of the projectile's pa.s.sing caught her, tore at her cloak, threatened to throw her from her feet. The wind hit her face with surprising heat.

Leah stayed standing, but she was having trouble catching her breath. She recognized that terrifying weapon, that deadly force of nature.

It was her father's spear.

A line of snow had been torn away in the wake of the spear's pa.s.sing, leaving a path like an arrow from the gray wall in front of her, through the spot where the mirka had stood, and stretching as far as Leah could see in the distance. Only specks of scorched fur and blue blood on the snow nearby gave any sign that the monster had ever been there.

The path was bare soil, totally clear of snow, and it led straight to her father.

Well, King Zakareth had been considerate enough to make her a trail. She might as well make use of it.