took up her sword, and wandered toward a tunnel.
'Wait, 'Light,' Liet said with a start, but the shadowdancer was already gone into darkness.
'Don't need you,' Davoren murmured, huddled against the wall. Blood dripped from his mouth as though he had bit his lip. 'Don't need any of you.'
'Eh?' Liet said. 'What did-?'
'Silence!' Davoren snapped, with more self-loathing than real anger. Still, it was enough to stun Liet. The warlock went back to muttering. 'Don't need you-any of you.'
The Dalesman bit his lip and suppressed a nervous shudder.
It occurred to him that Davoren was wrong. Each of them needed the others to survive, and not just for protection. They provided one another something else in the darkness: drive, or purpose, perhaps. Slip and Gargan had each other, it seemed, and Taslin had depended on Asson.
He looked at the scarred priestess, who meditated two paces distant. Would she die, now that she had no ally? No. Liet resolved that he would protect her. She had been kind to him, and he felt for her, with Asson gone.
Observing the shuddering warlock, Liet imagined that Davoren lived only because of Twilight's protection. They were not friends, certainly, but allies? The two of them had entered this dungeon together as companions at arms, but was there any true connection between them?
What of Twilight? Who was her protection? Certainly not Davoren, and all the fire seemed to have gone out of Taslin. Gargan was an enigma, and Slip had enough trouble watching out for herself. Perhaps…
A hand fell on his arm, and he jumped. It was Taslin. Her scarred face may have lost some of its beauty, but her eyes had lost none of their intensity. He felt calm, peaceful, in that gaze.
'Go to her,' the priestess said. 'She craves solitude, but she needs you. You and she are so alike-younger than this world demands.'
'What?' Liet asked, dumbfounded.
'Do you not desire her?' Taslin asked. In the corner, Davoren was a thousand leagues away. 'You stand close to her, and your hand reaches for hers. You laugh just a touch too loud, and stare a breath too long.'
'I don't…'
'Have you never had a woman, young master Liet?'
'Well, ah, um-' She put a finger to his lips. She reminded him of Twilight.
'My heart will mend,' she said. 'Hers…' She gazed toward the corridor.
Liet hesitated. He wanted with all his being to go after Twilight. What he would say, he had no idea. But he couldn't leave Taslin and Davoren alone, he told himself. Couldn't face the monsters that could be out in the dark…
'Courage,' Taslin whispered. 'You are older than the boy you act-be the man you are.' She kissed his cheek, softly.
He would do it.
Liet got to his feet. 'I shall return,' he said. 'I'll bring her with me.'
'Go,' Taslin said peaceably. Her hand snaked out to caress bare stone beside her, though she didn't seem to notice. 'I shall be well.'
He looked from Taslin to Davoren, a bit nervous to leave them. But he pushed fear away. Liet wasn't convinced, but he didn't care-not more than he did about Twilight.
The passage yawned forbiddingly, but he was determined. He stole after Twilight, quiet without his boots, seeking where she might have gone. He heard the rapier scabbard clicking against the stone ahead, and followed the sounds.
He saw a flicker of movement. 'Slip?' he asked, hesitantly. The figure froze, staring, then dashed around a corner. Hand on his sword, Liet hurried after.
He turned the corner and gasped, seeing a light glimmer on the far wall. There was movement. He dropped his hand to his sword and stepped forward, cautiously, straining to see. He couldn't make it out clearly, but it looked like a black hand-he couldn't count the fingers-extending out of the wall itself. As he approached, the hand snaked around and extended its palm toward him. He saw an eye in its midst.
His own eyes widening, Liet hurled himself into the shadows and froze. He had no power, no magic of his own-at least, none that he could use. What could he do against… whatever this thing was?
The arm twisted back toward the wall and searched along its surface. Then, as Liet watched, it dipped its fingers into the stone as though into pudding and reshaped it. The hand simply tore a gash in the wall, revealing a new passage. The stone bled drops of black onto the floor. Liet's stomach rose. He looked back, fearful, wondering whether Taslin or Davoren could arrive soon enough to save him.
Clutching himself tightly, Liet massaged his arms and winced at the sudden burning pain. Why did they hurt now?
Then the hand was gone, snaking back into that shimmer, which winked out, leaving him in blackness- blackness that was complete except for the torchlight flickering from the new passage. He crept up to it, wary that the hand would reappear, and looked in. More sewers beckoned that they had never been in before.
' 'Light,' Liet said. He needed to tell her of this. ' 'Light!'
In the darkness-less than a pace from where the useless one hid-Gestal took careful note of the hand from the wall. It did not please Lord Divergence, being this far into the lower domain. Certain forces would not welcome his presence.
The eyes turned back down the passage whence the useless one had come. Yes.
Gestal had an appointment to keep.
He found her after only a few breaths-silent, still, in the middle of the corridor. Twilight's head was bowed as though she were praying. Liet's heart hammered in his throat. He opened his mouth but forgot whatever he had been about to say. As he tried to remember, his thought slipped away.
Liet was about to speak when Twilight's hand shot out and grasped his collar. Before he could say a word, she slammed him against the wall and put a thin, sharp knife to his throat. Liet squeaked, and she withdrew the blade and sighed.
'Torm's name!' he cried. 'You can't just say 'well met'-like a sane lady?'
'You can't just approach from the light, spouting poetry, like a conventional suitor?' Twilight put the knife away.
Heat shot into his face. 'I, ah, I guess I'm sneakier than I thought.' His eyes widened. 'I'm-I'm really not trying to sneak up on you!'
The elf smiled halfway. 'A lass can never be too cautious,' she said. 'Strange men, creeping about dark corners, watching lasses from hiding, carrying sharp steel?'
'I see your aim,' said Liet. 'I'd have spoken, but I reasoned you'd hear…'
'And you were correct,' said Twilight. 'Just here to gawk as I take my rest, or do you have a purpose?' As she spoke, she slipped out of her breeches and blouse, shaking them out. Liet gulped, and though his mouth opened, he had no words, only shock.
After a moment, Twilight raised an eyebrow, and his flush only deepened. He finally thought to whirl around just as she wrapped a dark cloak around her bare body.
'Little point now,' she said. 'So speak. I have little enough time for wandering lads who fancy watching lasses more than a century their senior strip bare.'
Liet turned about, hesitantly. 'Ah,' he said. 'Well…'
'Now there's a deep thought,' the elf observed.
'I need to tell you, ah…' Liet trailed off.
'Are all men of the Dales this eloquent?' Twilight's face contorted. 'Out with it! Did you come to berate me for letting Asson die? Or question my methods with Davoren and Taslin?' She eyed him fiercely. 'Or perhaps just a
