CHAPTER SIXTEEN
'What's the matter?' Liet asked as Twilight lay against him, a long while later.
'Is it not obvious?' she said, tracing her fingers idly down his chest. 'I failed.'
They lay out of sight of the others, but not as far as the previous night. She had chosen a side chamber off the main summoning chamber, which must once have been a wizard's bedchamber. The others camped near the wrecked horrors.
Their lovemaking had been fierce. Twilight could feel more than see Liet flinch as her fingers found a bruise here or a scratch there, but she did not care. She was furious, even as she took profound joy in him. Such conflict- the lay of her life.
Liet, half clothed, leaned against the wall. Twilight, her breeches and blouse flung carelessly aside, lay against him. Both were wrapped in his cloak. She'd wanted him to take his shirt off, but Liet had been adamant about his arms. Perhaps he found their sight too painful. Twilight understood a thing or two about pain.
After building Taslin a decent cairn and marking it with the remains of her sword, Slip locked the room as best she could. They spent the rest of the day exploring the sanctum listlessly. The magic had been long ransacked or ruined, either by passing tomb raiders, golems, or lizardfolk, and they found the place largely empty of anything of value.
The party found only a ratty pair of boots, to which the halfling had taken a liking. They were not magical by Twilight's estimation, though she did not have the heart to disappoint Slip. They also discovered a set of three rather dull steel rods now carried by Liet, which the shadowdancer knew to be magical but could not sense anything other than their general purpose-altering something.
She wished they could alter that day.
And there was Davoren's newly acquired scepter, and anything else the treacherous warlock had seized during the battle.
Half a dozen lizardmen had entered the sanctum at one point, and following Twilight's better judgment- against her bitter anger-the five had hidden, not fought. That concession to discretion had grated on Twilight. More than anything else, she felt helpless in this barren place, with her allies being slain one by one, without any real direction. She felt a failure as a leader.
And now there was Taslin's death, a death that could have been averted had she listened to her instincts.
' 'Tis not true,' said Liet. He slid his soft fingers along her welts and scratches, caressing her. Twilight winced a little, but she did not stop him. 'Not true.'
It took Twilight a moment to realize what he meant-he was answering her last words. 'Yes, it is,' Twilight said. 'I shouldn't have listened to you. Wanderer's sand! I should have followed my instinct and gone back.'
'No one blames you,' said Liet.
She looked him in the eye. 'For all your vigor, dear boy, you're a terrible lover.'
'Why so?' he asked, hurt.
'You simply cannot lie.' She settled down with a sigh.
Liet smiled weakly. 'Maybe, but you can, and you're doing it to yourself. 'Tis not your fault. 'Tis no one's fault,' said Liet. 'The hangman was merely passing-'
'Passing over us, through the door. It attacked us in the mage's chambers. Makes perfect sense.' Twilight's voice was angry. 'Whoever created that iron golem must have done it. Set it on us.'
'Mayhap. But none of us could've known of that… thing.'
Twilight let the silence linger. 'Are you so sure?'
Liet fixed her with an odd look. 'I don't understand, lass.'
Twilight didn't correct him.
'Too many coincidences,' she said. 'The wights' ambush, the tunnel of traps, the grimlock attack, the golem in wait that the lizards stumbled across, the rope golem.' She shifted. 'We're being watched. Someone's luring us into ambush after ambush.'
Liet laughed-a forced sound. 'You're imagining this.'
'And whatever watches us left this where I could find it.' She fingered her star sapphire amulet. 'Because it would make me believe it impossible.'
'The amulet that-ah…'
'Blocks scrying,' said Twilight. 'Our keeper could watch directly, with magic-but the amulet protects me and anyone close by. Or it could watch indirectly, with a spy.'
'You're jumping at shadows-thinking about this too much.'
Twilight found that ironic. 'That's why I told each of the others a different direction,' she said. 'This way, I can see which one it is.'
'I'm dense,' Liet said. 'Which what is what?'
'The spy,' said Twilight. 'Think about it. How many weapons were in that chest? How much clothing? How many of us were there supposed to be?'
'Six sets of weapons, six sets of clothing, seven of us.' Liet shrugged. 'I suppose that makes sense, but would that not make it… I don't know, obvious?'
'We're supposed to think that,' Twilight said. When Liet frowned, she sighed. 'Whoever's watching us did it- the clothes, the equipment, my Shroud-purposefully, so that we'd wonder if there were a spy, and guess that there must not be, because it would be too obvious. What more perfect way to cover up a spy?'
Liet blinked at her and Twilight sighed. Her mind was simply faster than his.
'There were enough supplies for six, and the spy makes us seven. That's one.' Twilight put up one finger. 'The wards on the spell chamber were penetrated from our side, and that door was one-way.' Two fingers. 'And from the golem's tracks-whoever released it must have done so through magic, from under our very noses.' Three. 'Whoever the spy is, he or she is still with us.' She eyed Liet pointedly.
'Are you accusing me, 'Light?' he asked carefully.
'It could be you,' Twilight said. 'Why such a reaction?'
Liet smiled and Twilight read him, as she had read so many in her century of life. She noted every tic of his body, every twitch of his fingers, every flick of his eyes. She could see the rising warmth in his cheeks and hear his heartbeat. Twilight would know if Liet lied to her.
'Well?' she asked.
'I'm no spy,' said Liet. 'Whether you believe me or not is your prerogative.'
Twilight allowed the faintest of smiles to tickle her cheeks.
'We shall see.' She knew, though, that he told the truth.
Another thought occurred to her. 'Now. Back to your blankets.'
Liet looked at her hard, as though searching desperately for a jest and finding none. Then he rose and walked stiffly away, hurt in his every step. Why didn't he fight?
'Liet,' Twilight breathed. 'Wait.'
The youth turned back, arms crossed.
She wanted to apologize. She wanted to say that he was right, that she trusted him, that she needed him, but nothing of the sort came out. She couldn't lie now, but neither could she tell the truth.
Instead, all she managed was a question-a question she had no right to ask.
'Whence the scars on your arms?'
Liet bit his lip. 'If you trusted me,' he said. 'If you'd share your scars with me, maybe I'd share mine with you.' Turning purposefully, he walked away.
'It would make this all easier if you'd express your anger,' Twilight whispered to the closing door.
She desperately wanted to tell Liet that she believed in him, that she knew he wasn't a spy and a traitor, but she resisted the impulse. The logical, reasoning side of her nature, by far the dominant facet of her being, knew that admitting such a thing to him would endanger the stability of the group.
How can equality be maintained, Twilight mused, if not by mutual antipathy?
With a shiver, she realized that it sounded like something he would say.
