and went over to help him, but he waved her off with thin peremptoriness. She waited beside him, ready to catch him if need be.
Aruendiel moved with even more than his usual stiffness, and there was an uncertainty in his efforts that tore at her heart. He must be afraid of falling, even if he would not admit it. But there were black streaks in the white mane now, and when she got a good look at his face, it was recognizably Aruendiel’s, even if it was still harshly worn and wrinkled. His skin had lost that look of parchment transparency.
He could pass for a well-preserved seventy now—eighty, tops.
Still holding the wall for support, Aruendiel peered down at her, his gray eyes sharp.
“What did that viper of an ice demon do to you, Nora?” His voice was brittle but full of its old authority.
“Nothing,” Nora said, unable to stop smiling. “Nothing at all. You vaporized him before he could eat me.”
Aruendiel was not satisfied. With his free hand, he took hold of her chin and tilted her head upward, looking up her nostrils, then to the side so that he could examine her ear.
“It’s all right,” she protested. “I’m fine. My soul—my heart is as good as it ever was.”
Letting go of her chin, Aruendiel frowned, gray eyebrows knitting together. “You should have been able to stop the demon yourself,” he said. “It was a relatively simple application of fire magic—an intensified form of the Calanian heat protocol.”
“Well, yes,” Nora said, “but the ice demon can put out fires, so I wasn’t sure where to get the fire for the heat spell.”
“Ice-demon magic has a limited—” Aruendiel broke off with a sharp intake of breath. He stared over Nora’s shoulder. Under its rough white stubble, his face went still, then sagged as though he had rapidly aged again.
She glanced back, confused. There was only Perin, who stepped forward and bowed with formal courtesy, his hand on his sword hilt.
“My name is Perin Pirekenies,” he said. “Of course, I have heard much of the famous Lord Aruendiel. It is a great occasion to make your acquaintance.”
“Perin Pirekenies,” Aruendiel repeated slowly. The look of shock was replaced by a kind of resignation. He nodded as if to himself. “Pirekenies. Of course. You resemble your grandfather closely.”
“So I’ve been told,” Perin said, his eyes fixed on Aruendiel’s face. “I never knew him, obviously.”
Aruendiel paused as though he were bracing himself. His cracked voice spoke with a mixture of resolution and irony: “Have you come to kill me, then?”
“What!” Nora exploded. She looked from Aruendiel to Perin. Neither was smiling.
“No, the opposite,” Perin said after a long moment, although it seemed to Nora that there was a shade of reluctance in his voice. “I’m here because, on my way to fight the Faitoren, I met Lady Nora, who told me that she was trying to rescue you.” He nodded toward Nora. “She was accompanied only by an ice demon and a dying man, the wizard Dorneng. I could not leave a lady alone in such danger. And I knew it would help our cause to deliver you from the enemy.
“My father swore an oath to kill you,” he added easily. “But he still lives, so it’s not my obligation yet.”
“What are you talking about?” Nora demanded. “You never mentioned this.”
“He swore that oath a long time ago,” Aruendiel said acidly. “I have wondered whether he had forgotten about fulfilling it.”
“Not at all,” Perin said.
“I am happy to hear it. I look forward to crossing swords with him one day.” There was a new stoop in Aruendiel’s crooked shoulders as he tried to straighten to his full height. He grimaced. “Let us leave this place,” he said suddenly. “I am very tired of looking at these walls, and I perceive there is a magical engagement of no mean size being fought nearby.” Letting go of the wall, he took an unsteady step forward.
“I’ve gotten to be pretty good at levitation,” Nora said hesitantly. “Perhaps I could support you—” She stopped at the flash of anger in his pale eyes.
“I don’t need to be carried,” he snapped. After another faltering step, he appeared to reconsider somewhat. “But if you would be kind enough to let me steady myself—”
“Of course,” Nora said. Perin made a slight movement, as though to help Aruendiel himself, but she shook her head no. Aruendiel grasped her shoulder, and together they followed Perin across the room, Aruendiel’s thin fingers digging into her flesh. As they approached the door, Aruendiel pointed with his free hand.
“My sword,” he said, breathless.
It was lying near the wall. Neither Nora nor Perin had noticed it before. She had the feeling that they were both thinking the same thing, that Aruendiel would be better served by a cane than a sword. Silently, Perin picked up the sword and handed it to Aruendiel, who staggered slightly as he took it, then with frayed deftness maneuvered it into its sheath.
“Did I hear correctly that you were traveling with an ice demon?” Aruendiel hissed in her ear as they began to mount the stairs. “The same one that I just boiled away?”
“The same one,” Nora said, waiting while his foot groped for the next step.
“Do you know how dangerous that was—how foolhardy?”
“I didn’t have a choice. I kept reciting poetry—it liked poetry. That worked for a while.”
Aruendiel grunted, with effort or contempt. A few steps higher, he said: “And Dorneng is dead?”
“Yes. The ice demon killed him.”
“Pity. I hoped to kill him myself.” A moment later, in a low voice he said: “Filthy coward. He tricked me into drawing that circle against him. And then I could not get out.”
“It was a magical impermeability spell,” Nora volunteered. “You were cut off—”
“Yes, of course, I knew that,” Aruendiel said with a flicker of his old impatient energy. “It was a spell that Dorneng modified. It came from, from—oh, what’s the fellow’s name. Part of that group from Yrsl. Named after a plant.”
“Parsley Micr?” Nora guessed.
Aruendiel sighed, suddenly deflated. “No. Why can I not think of it? Well, it was an old spell. I knew just how to undo it. But I could not quite summon—there was not enough magic to do my will.”
One more step, and they were on level ground again, in the passageway leading to the main corridor. Motioning them to be silent, Perin edged forward to reconnoiter.
“Filthy coward,” Aruendiel repeated querulously. “He was afraid to face me—he had to steal my power.” Glancing back, Perin put his finger to his lips again. Aruendiel snorted, an exertion that made his lean frame tremble slightly. “Tell your friend,” he said to Nora, “that we are wrapped in a silencing spell that even the subtlest Faitoren could not penetrate.”
He went forward with a shade more vigor. But his grip on Nora’s shoulder did not lighten.
“Was it you who freed me?” he asked in a low, harsh tone. “Or him?”
“It was me,” Nora said. “He’s not a magician.”
“No, of course not, he’s a simple knight. But you, Mistress Nora—I would have thought it was beyond your powers to undo Dorneng’s spell.”
“I didn’t—I just sort of stretched it.” She sighed suddenly. “And how I did it, I’m not really sure now.”
“What spell did you use?”
“I used algebra.”
Aruendiel repeated the word inquiringly. “What is that?”
“Algebra is, um—a form of arithmetic. So unlikely that I would even think of using it.” Nora shook her head with mild bafflement. The formula had been so clear, so insistent. She had known exactly what to do, as though someone were showing her the way, step by step. Now that calm certainty was gone. “I used algebra to make the bubble bigger, that’s all.”
“It would be useful to know this sort of arithmetic,” Aruendiel said musingly. “Can you teach me algebra?” There was unusual respect in his tone.
Nora almost laughed. “It would be the boar teaching the bull to dance,” she said, using an expression of Mrs. Toristel’s. “If you want, though, sure, I’ll teach you what I can.”
Her words were almost drowned out by a sudden din echoing down the corridor. The stomp of many booted feet, the clank of weapons, a wild chorus of shouting.
Ahead, Perin had his sword out. The Faitoren poured around a bend in the corridor, dozens of them—tall,
