“An agreement?” the girl said. “If you’re venerating someone other than the Lady-”
“Your pardon, but nothing could be further from the truth. The devils have their purpose, but godhood is not one of them. What happens to her patron is irrelevant. All will aid Shar in the end, by their assistance or by their destruction.”
The girl looked back at Rhand, her expression peaceful. Farideh leaned forward enough to see Rhand, paler still with a wildness to his eyes and his breath coming hard, as the girl stood just within reach. The silence stretched out. Farideh held her breath.
“Nothing is everything,” the girl pronounced. “Shall we see what you have managed?”
Rhand drew a single, shuddering breath. “This way, my lady.”
You have to move, Farideh told herself. You have to save that girl. But she felt as if her bones had turned to stone, and it took an eternity before she could haul herself up. Rhand and the girl were long gone.
You have to find them, she told herself, even while a little voice seemed to murmur, Why? So you can fail her too? Even once she’d left the study, the feeling that she didn’t quite have the strength in her to continue in her own body persisted.
A good thing the guards are gone, she thought, pausing on a landing to catch the cold air on her face. She needed a weapon, she needed to find Rhand, she needed to stop him. The armory-she all but tumbled down the stairs, all traces of stealth long gone.
What was she doing? she thought. She couldn’t manage this-even if she could save the girl from Rhand, there was nowhere to run. If Dahl couldn’t save himself, then maybe he was doomed too.
You’ll never get out of here, the same little voice said, as she made her way down to the lowest level. No longer sure of her plans, no longer sure of anything except that if she didn’t follow through, she didn’t know what to do next. Get a weapon. Get the girl. Get out.
You’ll never manage. You can’t save her anymore than you could save Havilar. If you try you’ll only make things worse.
She pressed a hand to her head. What was the matter with her?
By the time she found the armory, she felt as if she was drowning. Nirka’s strange words popped into her head-He knows what it is to fight the Shadowfell. The home plane of the shadar-kai, the path-they said-to the world of the dead. The shadar-kai feared fading away into it, their essence drawn away into the shadows of the plane. Was that what this was? Was that what was happening to her?
In the armory, she stood amid the wicked-looking weapons, unable to hold her thoughts together, unable to decide what to do next.
The air shivered, and when the tiefling woman’s ghost appeared again, Farideh nearly wept in relief. She tore the comb from her haversack, not caring if it doomed her or damned the whole fortress. She slid it into her hair, the teeth scraping her scalp.
I’m glad you changed your mind, the ghost said. She didn’t move her lips, but her voice rang in Farideh’s thoughts as clearly as if the dead woman had spoken. And not a moment too soon.
“What is this?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
You’ve been poisoned, the ghost observed. She made a sound, as if she were clucking her tongue, but again, her mouth did not move.
“I didn’t eat anything,” Farideh said. “Tell me what to do?”
It’s a poisoning of the mind. The ghost’s face peeled back to muscle and bone, the globe of one silvery eye laid bare in its socket. It will take a blade and a stern stomach. An act to shock the thoughts out of you.
Farideh shuddered. Of course-that was how the shadar-kai fought off the Shadowfell, wasn’t it? They would tear each other apart and make it stop. She made her way to a rack of short, cruel-looking knives, and picked up one with a scarlet handle. Sharp enough to part flesh easily. Broad enough to cause a lot of pain. She imagined how it would feel, plunging into someone’s back.
She shuddered again, so hard she nearly dropped the blade. Even if she found a guard. .
It won’t end on its own, the ghost chided. You have to take action. A little suffering now, greater rewards later.
Farideh took a firmer grip on the knife. Perhaps she could use it on Rhand. . and then Sairché would say she hadn’t kept her deal, and Havilar was as doomed as the rest of them. Besides, she couldn’t go after Rhand with her head spinning like this. It will take a knife. An act to shock the thoughts out of you.
Farideh squeezed the knife’s hilt hard enough to make her palm ache, and steeled herself for what she had to do.
Once the sun had set and the moon was low, Dahl-dressed once more in his stolen uniform-met the drow near the fortress’s postern gate, near where Dahl had made his initial escape. The walls swarmed with guards.
It’s impossible, Dahl thought. They’re waiting for exactly this. But at the same time, his pulse started drumming with excitement, and he found himself sizing up the wall, the guards, the entrance. There were ways to do this, if you were bold enough to seize what you deserved.
Phalar chuckled under his breath. “Oh good. You’re ready.” Dahl blinked, suddenly aware of how out of place those thoughts were.
Oota’s warning came back to him.
“Stay close,” Phalar said, and he walked toward the wall, toward the spot where the shadows clung close. As Dahl sprinted after him, a ball of darkness formed around Phalar, so complete the drow seemed to disappear. Clinging tight to that sense of boldness, Dahl stepped into the dark as well, one hand shooting out to catch the drow’s shoulder, trying to keep track of how many steps they’d taken, before the drow crashed them both into the stone wall.
A clammy sensation rushed over Dahl as he counted too many steps.
Phalar stopped, then pushed him backward-into the other side of stone wall. The darkness dissipated. They stood at the edge of the courtyard, alongside the large stable Dahl had noticed earlier and behind a disused smithy. The veserabs inside stirred with a sound like leather cloaks slapping in the wind.
Phalar smirked. “There you are. Blessed be. . Let us say you owe someone a very quiet favor.”
“I owe you a dagger,” Dahl said. “Your god can keep his blessings.” He scanned the courtyard-there were a handful of shadar-kai at the door, and more still dicing in the courtyard. “Which wall do we hit next?”
“We don’t,” Phalar said. “I’m not a ghost. I need a chance to recover.” Dahl turned to him. “So what are you planning?”
“Oh calm down, cahalil. I’ve done this scores of times-do you think I leave a body behind every time?” A deep booming sound echoed off the crater’s ridge.
Phalar peered around the edge of the shack. “Ah! There’s what we’re waiting for.” Through the low clouds, a great dark shape descended into the courtyard-
a long, deep box big as a barque, dangling from a half a dozen cables. The booming came again as the carrier landed, and six enormous, shadow-winged drakes swooped low.
Phalar turned and scaled the wall of the building beside them where it met the curtain wall, finding footholds in the rippling stone. Dahl followed, saying a quiet prayer to Selûne that she kept herself hidden behind the thick clouds. No cry of alarm followed, and Dahl shortly hauled himself up onto the low roof. Phalar had not waited, but stretched out on his belly and crept along the slates toward the tower. Crouched, Dahl hurried to catch up to Phalar, where he’d slowed beside some damaged tiles.
“Does that come every night?” he panted.
“It came tonight,” Phalar said. “It’s come on other nights.”
“What do you do when it doesn’t come?”
Down below, the drakes squalled and boomed, and the shadar-kai and humans holding on to their lines struggled and shouted at each other. The clouds split, revealing Selûne in all her glory. Phalar cursed and flinched back, away from the edge of the roof, away from Dahl.