'That's the most beautiful song I ever heard,' said Og reverently. There is magic in it, I can tell.'
His glance fell upon the totem in the Treefather's lap, and he remembered the day Cheyne had first shown him the artifact. 'May I see the totem?'
Luquin gave it to him. Og held it up and turned it as the music played, catching the sunbeams from the high windows in the hollow tree. Suddenly the room filled with a burst of brilliant light, a rainbow seeming to bring fire from the totem's edge and sending a tight ribbon of color into the depths of the dim chamber- the outline of a woman's hand sparkling into the darkness. Cheyne found himself mesmerized at the image of the hand, its first two fingers slightly crooked, until the vision disappeared with the last notes of the song.
And then he remembered Claria's hand on the polished wooden floor of Wiggulf s lodge in the dying firelight, how her first two fingers had exactly the same little crook in them, just at the first joints.
He looked at Og, who nodded in silent agreement. 'The totem belongs to Claria, too. The glyph writes her name, just as it wrote the Collector's daughter's name.'
Cheyne wound the chroniclave again and Og tried the name, as the Treefather had pronounced it, against the song. The syllables and accents fit perfectly.
It took a few minutes for everyone else to find their voices. In the meantime, Cheyne gave the clock's pendulum a little push, and the clock's hands jumped to life, as though they had been waiting for his touch.
'What does this mean?' he breathed. 'All of these things must have belonged to the Collector. He says in the book that there was a namesong that would destroy the crystal door forever. This must be that song. Og, do you think you can sing this? We may have the way to save Claria without letting loose the Beast of the Hours!'
'Well, results-' Og began. Entertainment was one thing. Even healing, he knew he could do. But this was… this was the Armageddon Clock.
'No,' said Cheyne. 'This will have to be certain. No variation. No 'almost right/ Og. This will have to be perfect. Can you do it?'
Og tried the little tune in his best voice. It cracked. He tried it again. It cracked again.
'I need the stones, I think.' He looked longingly at the firebane. 'All of them.'
20
'Hurry up, you little nameless commoner,' Riolla prodded, her voice vexed at having to climb down into the bramble-ridden Chimes. 'We have to be there on time.'
'It would be so much easier, my queen, if you just let me divide her up among us, so that the burden of her portage would be lighter and quicker,' Saelin added wickedly. Claria shot him a deadly look above her gag, but moved a little faster anyway.
Naruq led the group from far ahead, scouting for possible traps. At his signal, they stopped amid the towering spires and waited. He advanced alone to a rise above the valley and stepped out of sight behind an old hickory tree. Above the valley, the wind had picked up considerably. Drufalden's five hundred sabers, scattered plainly in sight around the mountainside, waited for Riolla's command.
They did not have long to wait. Cheyne, guided by one of the Treefather's attendants, came into view almost immediately, Ogwater at his side. Bound by his oath, Doulos had stayed with Javin. The attendant waved farewell, and Naruq stepped out from the tree's cover. The assassins began to advance to their positions.
'I see you are a man of your word, digger. Look for yourself. See if she is not there in the valley.'
From his place on the hillside, Cheyne could see straight down to where Saelin stood impatiently over Claria, who was bound to a ganzite spire.
'Let her go. When she's up here, you'll get the totem,' said Cheyne, his eyes stony and hard as he watched the assassins ring the valley. 'Are you so afraid of a digger and a songmage that you need an army?'
'Saelin!' called Naruq, turning to leave.
'Wait. All right. Here. Now let her go.' Cheyne held out the totem.
Naruq took it, smiled, and called down into the valley again, his words echoing off the spires like the sound of flat stones thrown in a shallow pool. 'Saelin! Let her go.'
Cheyne watched anxiously, but no one moved from the spire. When he looked back to Naruq, the elf had disappeared. But the sabers had not.
'Well, you didn't expect him to really do it, did you?' said Og.
'No. Of course not. He'll open the Clock. With this wind, it could be anytime. Are you ready?'
Og blanched, straightened his back, and nodded.
His mouth was so dry he couldn't even say yes.
Riolla snapped her spyglass shut and stood by the spire Naruq had indicated. Claria, still gagged and bound, had been lashed to the crystal with tough cords of bark rope Naruq had taken from the fortress. Saelin stood by, leering at the girl, waiting for the moment Riolla gave her over to him.
When the elf appeared beside him, the assassin startled and nearly lost his footing on the rock-littered valley floor as he fought the reflections all around him. Claria had enough courage left to laugh. At least until Naruq blew the debris out of an opening in the spire just over Claria's head, polished the four sides of the slot with his cloak, and inserted the totem. The spire reclaimed its missing piece with a sound click.
He turned to Riolla and smiled, his silver eyes dancing. '1*11 be going now,' he said, and disappeared into the mirrored maze before the words registered on her ears.
'You can't leave us here!' Riolla cried, her voice echoing all around, following the reflection of her worried face from spire to spire. She grabbed Saelin's arm and popped open her spyglass. 'You watch ahead. I'll direct our path up the mountain.'
They began to stumble out of the valley as fast as they could, leaving Claria amid the resounding swell of the wind.
Above the valley, behind the crystal door, the Beast of the Hours awoke to the sound of a distant ringing, like the call of Ninnite prayer bells on the wind.
Up on the hillside, at first there was no sound at all. Then the force seemed to gather under their feet and the rocks hummed low and steady, shaking so gently that only by looking at the pebbles rolling around on the surface could they tell there was any motion at all.
'It's begun,' said Cheyne. 'They've put the totem in the correct spire. The first key is in place. And they've left Claria tied to the spire. Og, I don't know how long I have, but I've got to go down there, army or not. Claria will never survive what the Collector said will come next.'
'Cheyne, the wind has already picked up. The storm gathers over the erg now. Look!' Og pointed to the darkening sky, the few clouds over their heads beginning to swirl into a spiral pattern. Toward the north, a low, pale cloud loomed.
'That's the sandstorm. The godscream. When it hits, we'd better have taken cover. That wind carries enough sand to grind down this entire valley,' shouted Og. 'You can't go down there-'
Claria's shriek rose from the valley floor, sounding like a thousand women. Cheyne grimaced and called over his shoulder, the wind taking his words to Og's ears instantly.
'Sing it shut again, Og. You're our only chance.'
And then Og stood alone on the outcropping over the valley, his eyes on the crystal door above. He swallowed hard, his hands shaking and his knees about to buckle. All he could think of was how badly he needed a hard slug of raqa. Or even just a taste.
The wind bore down on him, and he braced himself against a big hickory tree, clutching the three gemstones in one hand and waiting for Cheyne to emerge from the valley with Claria. Little by little, the rising din from the spires' vibration filled his ears until he could not hear anything else. One by one, he saw the spires begin to shatter, their music passing from the range of his hearing into pure destruction. Holding fast to the tree, he didn't see how anyone could survive the onslaught in the valley.
Anyone except Womba.
Og could not believe his eyes. There she was, making her way across the tormented valley, pushing spire after broken spire away from her, with only one arm protecting her eyes. Two of the assassins lay crumpled in her wake. Og took a deep breath and steeled himself. There was no time for him to get away and no place to go. He
