A cloud crossed the worried face, and he shook his head. 'No.'
'Can Lady Polaris, or any of the high mages?'
Another denial.
Sunbright shook his own head, rejecting everything Candlemas had said. 'Then what good is magic? I can't bear to think of her, trapped in that place because of me!'
'You've been trying to get back there.' Candlemas didn't need to make it a question, for he already knew the answer. 'The High Neth worked day and night for months to find and seal all Sysquemalyn's leaks from the Nine Hells. Things are largely back to normal. I knew you'd been searching for a way in. Did you ever find one?'
Sunbright debated whether to tell this man-who might be an enemy or might be a friend-the truth, then answered, 'No. I came close a few times, got into depths that blistered my eyebrows and got me jumped by monsters from… But no, I never got close to the Nine Hells.'
'Do you really think she'd want you to?' Candlemas saw the barbarian's eyes snap, but he didn't quail. 'Greenwillow gave her life to save yours. As Sysquemalyn said, you mustn't throw away that gift, her sacrifice. You're meant for greater things. You need to find what they are.'
Sunbright rejected talk of himself to cling to the memory of Greenwillow. Talking of her lessened the ache within him. 'Tell me something useful. Is there any way she can be saved?'
Candlemas blew out his breath, made the tiny blaze dance. 'If she died there, as she must have, then no magic I know, or even suspect, can resurrect her to this plane. But her spirit may linger, trapped. With work, it might-might, I say-be set free.'
'So.' Sunbright picked up a stick and prodded the fire. 'If I work for you, will we try to find a way?'
'I'll do what I can, if you will. That much I promise.' If Candlemas felt any thrill at getting his way, he didn't show it. Mostly he sounded tired. 'What I can't promise is results.'
'No one can,' replied the barbarian.
The two were quiet a long time. They listened to the drip of rain in the forest, the soft rustle of leaves overhead. Far off, a strange bird gave a plaintive cry like the ring of a cowbell. Sunbright didn't know that birdcall, but he'd learn it.
Abruptly he scooched onto his heels and caught the corner of the sodden blanket, tied off with a length of line. With nimble but cold fingers, the barbarian loosed the line and channeled the trapped water to splash on the fire and extinguish it.
Without the meager light, the forest loomed dark all around them. Candlemas, Sunbright knew, would be spooked by its damp, silent depths. But to the barbarian, it was an inviting home. And soon he'd know it even better, deeper. Truer.
And he'd show it to Greenwillow, somehow.
In the encroaching darkness, Sunbright's voice was as clear as that birdcall. 'If you'll try, I'll go with you.'
