we have?”
That depends how large of a hole it needs to make in the door in order to squeeze through, Steel told her. Perhaps ten minutes before there’s a breach.
There was a ragged gasp from behind her. Drix’s eyes were open, and she knelt down next to him. It was a ghastly sight. The storm had struck from every side, and his flesh was studded with shards of bloody glass. Something else caught her eye-a pale glow coming from beneath his shirt, by his left breast. A faint radiance pulsed with a steady beat.
It was the crystal heart, keeping him alive.
“Can you hear me?” she said.
He nodded slowly and pushed himself up with one hand. He opened his mouth, and the ragged gasp came out again. Reaching up, he closed his fingers around a shard buried in the side of the neck, pulling out a piece of glass the size of a knife blade. As soon as the glass was free, the wound sealed up. He opened his mouth and closed it again, running his hand along his neck.
“The circle,” he said. “Help me reach it.”
Thorn helped Drix stand and supported him as they made their way across the chamber. The circle, a ring of mystical symbols nearly fifteen feet across, filled the center of the room. They’d been carved into the wooden surface of the floor then filled with some sort of metal that gleamed like quicksilver in the cold-fire light. Maps covered the walls of the chamber. Khorvaire was spread across three walls, with the familiar landmarks of Breland to the left, Cyre straight ahead, and the coastline of the eastern shore to the right. Sparkling points of cold fire gleamed on the map, and Thorn recognized many of them as the locations of the greatest cities of the land-Sharn, Passage, Fairhaven, Flamekeep, Korth. There were at least a hundred points of light spread across the map, and all too few in the Lhazaar Principalities, where they were supposed to be headed.
“There,” he said. There was a podium in the back corner of the room with a mosaic of polished dragonshards set into the top. One large Siberys shard was set into the center of the podium, and as soon as they were close enough, Drix reached out for it. He leaned against the column as he wrapped his hand around the crystal sphere and closed his eyes.
There was a chill in the air, and Thorn could feel a charge building, the pressure of a rising storm. Then the circle burst into life, cold flames licking across the quicksilver runes. The points on the map flickered, flaring up one at a time then fading again.
“Are those the other gates?” Thorn said.
“Yes,” Drix murmured. “This… is a conduit for the power of the dragonmark. The links… are here.”
“You don’t have the dragonmark,” Thorn said. The scraping of glass against the door was growing louder, and her thoughts raced as she tried to come up with another idea to keep them alive. There was no furniture whatsoever in the room, nothing that she could use to reinforce the door.
“No. But I have power. It’s like… a lock pick. You need to feel the shape of the lock, to let the energy flow into the pattern it’s searching for.”
“We don’t have much time, Drix. Can you do this?”
The glow from Drix’s crystal heart was brighter, the pulse speeding up. “It’s not right. It’s not… what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can feel them. I can feel the circles. The map. And something else. Another layer. Hidden.”
“That’s fascinating,” she said. “And perhaps you’ll have a chance to investigate it when we don’t have an angry spirit carving its way through the door. Can you get us to Tantamar?”
“Closer,” he said. His eyes were closed and sweat ran down his face, mixed with blood from his wounds. “Closer. I can feel it. Pull away the shroud. Yes…”
“We don’t have time, Drix!” Thorn shouted. “Get this thing working and-”
She broke off as new sparks spread across the walls. They were darker, points of crimson light. Some were clustered close around the original gates; there were two additional gates in Wroat, and Sharn was a burning knot of lights. Others were off on their own, scattered in the wilds.
Secret gates? Thorn thought. House Orien has a network hidden from the public eye?
Any other time Thorn would have been desperate to study the map, to make a note of every location. But the sound of glass scraping against wood was growing ever louder.
She held Steel in front of her. “Study these points. Remember what you can.” Her attention was focused on the east coast, the great expanse of the Whitepine Forest. “There! Drix, you’re right. South of Tantamar, near Mutiny Harbor. Can you isolate that gate?”
“Trying,” Drix said through clenched teeth. The sparks flared up, one at a time, coming ever closer to the gate they needed. Even as the focal point drifted east, there was a splintering sound and a few fragments of wood fell to the floor.
“Flame!” Thorn swore. “If you can’t isolate it, then get us to Tantamar.”
“One more moment…”
“We don’t have another moment! Get us as close as you can, but do it now!”
Another chunk of wood struck the floor. A shard of glass fell through and shattered against the ground. As Thorn’s spirits fell, Drix cried out. The crystal heart pulsed with a brilliant radiance, a beacon of light even beneath Drix’s torn clothes. The glittering flames shrouding the teleportation ring rose up toward the ceiling, a curtain of cold fire. Drix staggered away from the podium, and Thorn caught him before he fell.
“Now,” he cried. “It won’t last long.”
Lifting him up in her arms, Thorn dived into the light. She heard the door shattering, the storm flowing into the room. Then it all fell away. For a moment she was tumbling through space, vertigo surrounding her, then gravity and reality seized her and forced her back to the world. Her mind reeled, senses rebelling at the sudden change in her surroundings. The disorientation passed in a moment, as her new surroundings became clear. There were maps on the walls around them, a gleaming circle carved into the floor. But walls and floor were stone instead of wood, brilliant white marble that seemed to harness the light from the cold-fire lanterns. The chamber was smaller. And there was a woman standing right in front of them… with a wand leveled at Thorn’s head.
“You’ve got exactly five words to save your life,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Pit B arrakas 25, 999 YK
House Orien was in the business of transportation. The challenge had been getting the abandoned gate to function without a guide. Once they were through, they should have been welcomed as customers who had just contributed a great deal of gold to the house coffers, not threatened.
It seemed someone had forgotten to tell the woman.
Burdened by Drix, there was no way Thorn could bring Steel to bear before the stranger could unleash the power bound in her wand. “I’ve no time for this,” she snapped. “My companion is a Cannith heir in need of immediate medical assistance. Either help me or get out of my way, unless you’d like to explain things to his parents.”
There was a flicker of doubt in the woman’s eyes. She played a dangerous game, but every moment Thorn was drawing new cards. They were standing on an Orien circle, there could be no doubt about that-a circle that could be used by only a dragonmarked heir. The woman with the wand was dressed in a uniform; while Thorn didn’t recognize it, the matching studs on her wrists and the silver unicorn on her collar suggested rank and hierarchy. Whether she ran an Orien operation or something else, if this woman had a rank, there was surely someone above her, someone she wouldn’t want to upset.
Bluff it might be, but Drix was covered with drying blood and broken glass. Letting a prayer to Olladra pass through her thoughts, Thorn took a step forward. The sentry took a step back, tensing up, and let her wand fall out of line.
That one moment was all Thorn needed. Summoning all her strength, she tossed Drix directly into the other woman. Whatever the sentry might have expected, she wasn’t prepared for a flying tinker. She fell to the ground,
