the large, curving root on which Serian stood. But Serian still stood.
They were encircled by a globe of familiar, golden light. Flying debris hung in the air around them. Kaylin turned back to the ward. To her surprise, it was still suspended in air, glowing a brilliant silver; the tree was damaged. Kaylin was no expert in trees, but the brunt of the explosion had taken out only the section of tree—and its attached roots—directly in front of the activated ward.
The central element of the ward, the star, was gone. The rest of it—the radial points that looked like designed offshoots of that star, remained, as did the framing. Gaedin’s magic followed the explosion—but it was slower by far than the ward had been; Kaylin felt it crawling along her skin.
“Gaedin—”
“It is not me,” he told his partner. “It is Lord Kaylin.”
“Lord Kaylin who claimed to have studied magic for mere mortal months?” She looked skeptical, and Kaylin—who disliked the superiority Barrani often displayed when dealing with mortals perversely liked her better for it.
“It’s not me,” Kaylin told them both. “It’s him.” She pointed to the dragon who was rigid on her shoulder.
She followed the direction of his wide-eyed stare. “How important is this tree?”
It was Gaedin who laughed.
“Gaedin.
He reined laughter in. His eyes were a midnight-blue so at odds with laughter it made him more disturbing.
Silence. She didn’t even try to reach Nightshade, because it was pointless; she recognized the silence.
Kaylin grimaced and turned to the two Barrani who had led her to comparative safety. “I hate to tell you this,” she said, “but we’re not in the West March anymore.”
“I can see the ward,” Gaedin said.
Serian frowned. The ward was no longer her concern. “Do you know where we are? The cavern looks essentially the same, to my eye.”
“It is substantially the same.”
“And the tree?”
“It is as you see it.”
Kaylin, however, was moving. She wasn’t walking, because at the moment, there was nothing to walk
“Let Gaedin inspect.”
“Gaedin is not as sensitive to magic as I am,” Kaylin replied—in Barrani. “And I am not certain he can move of his own volition.”
Gaedin said, “She is correct.”
“Can you read what’s left of the ward?” Kaylin asked him.
“No, Chosen. The center section is missing.”
“Yes—it appears to have been the magic behind that explosion.” She was frowning now. The bits of bark and wood she was passing beneath and around still hadn’t moved. “Gaedin—this debris—are you suspending it?”
“No.”
“Am
“Not in any detectable way. In my opinion, however, it is either you or your companion. He is a familiar, yes?”
“I don’t know what word means in real life. He’s certainly not the familiar of the stories the Barrani used to tell each other.” She reached out to touch a piece of bark; the small dragon bit her finger. Hard. Kaylin cursed; he gave her one baleful glare, and then once again oriented himself in the direction of the gaping hole in the side of the tree.
“I don’t think it’s the dragon, either,” she said. “Guys, when was the last time someone disappeared into the tunnels? Do you know?”
“You are not going to like the answer,” Serian said.
“Give me the answer anyway.”
“Less than ten of your mortal years ago. I believe it was six.”
There was nothing in the answer that Kaylin could dislike. “That’s good, though—it means the maze has been run and people in it have gotten out. Why did you think I’d be unhappy?”
“One of the two was mortal.”
Kaylin carefully avoided touching debris—which would have been harder if the dragon weren’t in the driver’s seat. But she looked at the pieces, at their placement, at their distance from the tree. Her frown deepened. “Gaedin, can you give me more light?”
His reply: illumination. Every piece of debris was sharper, clearer. She could see what she assumed were flight trajectories. She had, with Teela and Red by her side, examined debris in the wake of an Arcane bomb. Pieces of house had embedded themselves in the parts of the walls left standing.
These pieces had traveled out in a sphere seconds after the explosion itself; Kaylin was fairly certain they’d be dotting the cavern’s rough wall had they continued their flight. They hadn’t. Kaylin, Serian, and Gaedin had experienced the force of the blast; they were alive because the small dragon had intervened.
But pieces of wood, of bark, and even dirt, remained fixed in the air, as if time had frozen. Kaylin could move; nothing else did.
“I think—I think this explosion didn’t just happen.”
The small dragon squawked.
“We witnessed it,” Serian reasonably pointed out.
Kaylin nodded. “We witnessed it. I think we’ve appeared at the exact moment the tree did explode.”
“You don’t think the ward was responsible for the explosion itself.”
She glanced at the small dragon’s profile. “No. I think the ward is responsible for dumping us here. Wherever—or whenever—here is.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. The tree looked solid when we approached it.” She frowned. “I’m not much of a mage.”
Gaedin was extremely politic for a Barrani, and said nothing.
“But when I touched the ward, the center portion of the rune disappeared; the tree—this side of it— exploded, or started to—the pieces haven’t moved. So...is it possible that the ward was holding the tree together somehow?”
“It is.”
“Door wards don’t vanish when touched,” she continued. “And
“You feel that the ward served two functions.”
She nodded. “I don’t understand why. Frankly, I don’t understand
Serian’s frown was more subtle than Kaylin’s; the color of her eyes made up for it. “It would make far more sense that the rune caused the explosion.”
“And it froze just after it happened?”
“The familiar—”
The familiar rolled his eyes. Kaylin stared at him, and he shrugged his wings. “I’m pretty sure he’s only responsible for the shielding on us. Does the shape of the rune look familiar to you?”
Gaedin had been staring at it in silence; he spoke to answer questions, but his gaze didn’t leave it. Kaylin was surprised when he began to speak. His voice was sonorous, low, the syllables almost familiar. He wasn’t
