several thick pelts to keep her warm. She had a chair and a couple of unfussy shelves for her few possessions. A woven mat covered part of the floor. Someone had even gone to the trouble of finding an old tapestry to hang by her bed, though it was too faded for its subject to be recognisable. Compared to other lodgings she’d seen in this place, it was luxurious.
Her cell, as she’d come to think of it, was lit by a single glamour orb. She kept it on permanently, which was outrageously lavish, and she had candles and lanterns to hand as back-ups. Without the orb the chamber would be in total darkness, and that she couldn’t abide.
A small outcrop of stone resembling a plinth stood near the door, where a wash basin and pitcher rested. The temperature was surprisingly mild below ground, yet the water was still cold enough to shock her when she splashed it on her face. Next she took up a brush and began jerking it through the tangles in her hair.
Attending to mundane tasks gave her no rest from the fixations that lodged like a chunk of ice in her guts. She saw no way of reconciling what she’d done with Kinsel’s pacifism. If he lived, how he could possibly forgive her? She marvelled at how stupid she had been to believe Devlor Bastorran’s lies about minimal harm coming to the people she betrayed. She felt suffocated by the fear of what would happen to the children in her charge, and the one unborn, if she was exposed. And she felt that exposure was inevitable, because it was all she could do not to fall on her knees, confess and beg forgiveness.
The Resistance had offered her passage to the Diamond Isle. She didn’t want to go. It was hard enough coping with the people here. Over there, Tanalvah would have to confront those who had been closest to her, who had befriended and protected her. Especially Serrah, whom she dreaded facing. But her terror of Bastorran, and the chance of falling into his hands again, made her almost as afraid of staying.
Now she understood why Serrah had once found the prospect of death so enticing.
Tanalvah steeled herself to leave her tiny stone cocoon and join the others. She knew she wouldn’t be able to look any of them in the eye. Enduring their kindnesses, their pitying gazes and their sympathetic smiles was a torment. It was a wonder to her that they couldn’t see the guilt written on her face.
She summoned her resolve, pulled back the flap and stepped into their world.
As usual, the caves were bustling, and just as predictably people began to stare as soon as they noticed her. She felt naked. The temptation to admit what she’d done, to scream it out and get it over with, was near irresistible.
Then a group approached through the parting crowd, two adults and a pair of children. Dulian Karr and Goyter, beaming at her, with Teg and Lirrin clutching their hands. The children broke away and flew to Tanalvah’s outstretched arms.
For the moment, all her troubles were washed away by tears of joy.
No more than an hour’s ride from the necropolis, in the heart of Valdarr, another reunion was taking place, albeit one with considerably less warmth.
Inside the forbidding walls of the Bhealfan headquarters of the paladin clans, beyond a labyrinth of passages and secured doors, an inner sanctum was located.
Within, Devlor Bastorran was granting an audience.
A kind observer might describe his guest as striking. Although seemingly asexual, close examination would indicate that the visitor was female. She was athletic in build, verging on bony, and had fair blonde hair cut close to the skull. Her flesh was as pallid as marble. She had thin, nigh on colourless lips and startlingly large, pitch black eyes. Conjecture on whether she was handsome or ugly was irrelevant; her appearance flouted normal conceptions of beauty. And right now those features were further contorted with anger.
‘I’m sick of waiting,’ she hissed, jabbing a finger at his chest. ‘We had a bargain, and you never said you’d be this long honouring it.’
‘We did. But let me-’
‘I should have known better than to trust the word of a paladin. You’re lying bastards, the lot of you, for all your talk of honour and agreements.’
‘That’s not-’
‘Well, chew on this, Lord High Muckamuck: we’re bound, you and me. Chained together by what I did on your behalf.’ Her eyes shone with a cold intensity. ‘There’s a price for my silence about that, Bastorran. When are you going to pay it?’
‘I thought today might be a good time.’
‘What?’
‘If you’d let me get a word in,’ he came back through gritted teeth, ‘I was going to explain. As you say, we had a deal. I’m ready to fulfil my part.’
Aphri Kordenza eyed him suspiciously. ‘You’ll do as you agreed?’
‘Your magical symbiosis with your…companion will be made permanent. Don’t look so surprised. Did you really think I wouldn’t honour our pact?’
‘How will you do it?’ the meld asked, ignoring his question.
‘In what my sorcerers tell me is the best way. With this.’ He slipped a hand into his tunic pocket and brought out a flat, wafer-thin object that had hundreds of tiny runic symbols etched into its surface. It looked like terracotta, and sat comfortably in his palm. He held it out to her.
‘How?’ she repeated, weighing it.
‘At the moment you maintain your symbiotic status by periodically refreshing the magic. I’m guessing you need to visit a wizard with the necessary skills every few weeks, to renew the spell.’
She nodded. ‘And pay handsomely for it.’
‘I imagine it isn’t always easy finding a sorcerer willing to do the job, either. Given that your condition’s legally dubious.’
‘It’s a moot point. There are so few of us melds the Law’s tended to ignore the situation. But we’re getting off the subject.’
‘That thing,’ Bastorran pointed at the artefact she was clutching, ‘cuts out the middleman. It keeps you permanently connected to the magical grid, drawing all the energy you need to stay as you are. No renewal of spells, no more expense.’
‘What do I do, swallow it?’
‘Only if you want to risk choking. But it does go inside your body. Just under the skin of your left heel, to be exact. It’s a simple surgical procedure that takes a couple of minutes. I have physicians standing by, and they’re the best. My own, in fact. You look wary. There’s nothing to worry about. You’ll be given a soporific and won’t feel a thing.’
‘I don’t need one.’
‘I’m told there would be a certain amount of pain involved without it.’
‘I prefer to stay alert.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘As you please. But I really think-’
‘I hope you’re being straight about this, Bastorran. Because if it’s some kind of trick, everybody’s going to know you for a murderer. I’ve left details of your uncle’s death with a confederate, and if anything happens to me-’
‘We both know you haven’t, Kordenza. And even in the unlikely event of you knowing somebody you’d trust with that kind of information, whose word are people going to believe? That of the grieving head of the paladin clans or some shifty member of the criminal classes? Besides, it’s in my interest that your powers be at their height.’
‘Why?’
‘I have another commission for you. One which will reward you generously. Have faith in me. Your suspicions are misplaced.’
She thought about it. ‘All right. Curse me for a fool, but I’ll take your word.’
‘Good. I’d say we should shake on it, but frankly I’d rather not touch you.’
‘The feeling’s mutual.’
He indicated the door with an outstretched arm. ‘Shall we proceed?’
‘In a moment. I said I’d accept your word. I’ve somebody else to confer with.’
Bastorran was nonplussed, then realised what she meant. ‘Oh. Aphrim.’
‘Of course. We’re partners, you know. In all things.’
‘Very well,’ he sighed, perching himself on the side of a chair and crossing his arms. He found the spectacle
