Tylar led the way down the hall. Kathryn noted the snowy pallor to his features. Though healed again, he was far from hale. A body, even one blessed by a god, had limits that would break it. And Tylar was nearing his end.
They reached the stairway. Yaellin awaited them. He stood with his back to the curve of the stairs. Two bodies were sprawled on the nearest steps, and a pile blocked the way down.
“Keep clear,” he warned.
A crossbow bolt sparked off the stones and ricocheted up the stairwell from below.
“None dare come closer on foot,” Yaellin said. “But they won’t let us down either.”
Gerrod stared around the space. “Where are the girls?”
Dart held her place in the rookery. She watched Paltry stride across the planks. She felt the oddest sense of finality in this moment. As if she were meant to be here. A calmness settled into her, filling corners that had recently been empty.
The same could not be said for Laurelle. “You… you’d best stay back,” she warned. She clearly wanted to retreat farther into the rookery, but the space was open. No place to hide. The only true escape from here was to plunge through one of the chamber’s many windows.
Paltry smiled. “The monsters below will either kill your defenders or chase them off. Either way, none will question your guilt… or my killing of you both.”
Laurelle fell back toward one of the walls. Dart followed, but only three steps.
Paltry continued. “And once slain, I will lay your bodies at Chrism’s feet. What does it matter if one’s god is corrupted or righteous? In the end, it matters only if one has pleased him or not. From such pleasure, riches will flow.”
A splatter of guano struck Paltry’s cheek. He flinched, clearly edgy despite his easy words. Still, his sword did not falter. Dart stopped and held her place. She knew where she stood. On these planks, all was ripped from her: her innocence, her safety, her sense of self. Above, the dark rafters glowed with the hundred eyes of the ravens, silent spectators then and now.
Paltry approached, sword pointed. “Which to kill first? Will it be worse for you, Dart, to see your friend die before you?”
Dart merely stared. In the silence, she felt a string, previously taut, relaxing inside her. A sense of security braced her.
She glanced to the planks. She had left here hollow, left a part of herself behind, but now she could reclaim it… with a little help.
She glanced up to Paltry. He sensed the diamond in her gaze, cold and hard. His footsteps faltered.
Dart waited for the tightness inside her to fully loosen, then spoke three words. “To me, Pupp.”
He came through the door, passing like a ghost. He must have finally found a break in the stones, or a place to climb, or a gate. Perhaps he had even backtracked the long path back to the High Wing, then down again… returning to the only home both had known. But ultimately she knew what drew him.
She reached to her lacerated shoulder. She wet her fingers.
Blood.
Pupp raced to her, a shining coal in the darkness. They were one and the same. Blood for blood.
Paltry stopped his approach, plainly confused by her words, disturbed by her countenance.
Dart bent to one knee. She had once pondered what she was: girl, god, or monster. For the moment, she made her choice.
Monster.
Her bloody fingers touched Pupp. She felt the heat of his flesh. His form grew brighter. She smeared him with her blood and lifted her eyes to Paltry.
He stared in horror at the figure of flaming bronze, spiked and razor edged. Flames glowed in Pupp’s eyes and lapped from his muzzle.
Paltry stumbled away.
Dart waited.
Finally, Paltry met her gaze.
Dart did not smile. She said one last word. “Fetch.”
Tylar heard the scream from a full two flights away. He rushed up the last of the steps, followed by Eylan and Kathryn. Rogger, Gerrod, and Yaellin remained below, plotting some strategy to escape, pinned as they were between ilk-beasts and castillion guards.
Above, the scream changed pitch into a wail of horror and pain. It was not a child’s scream. It ripped from the throat of a man.
Ahead a door appeared.
Tylar rushed to it.
“Careful,” Kathryn warned. “It could be more ilk-beasts.”
Tylar’s fingers fought the latch, but it was secured from inside. “Dart! Laurelle!” he called out as the wail died to a moan.
There was only one last place the girls could be hiding.
Behind this door.
Tylar pounded on it.
A small cry answered, full of horror, but plainly a girl’s voice this time. “We… we’re here.”
A flutter of footsteps sounded. The latch inside was thrown back. Before Tylar could even touch the door, it was flung wide and the black-haired girl flew out. She collapsed into Tylar’s arms, hugging him tight, clinging, sobbing.
Inside the dark chamber, plainly a rookery from the smell, a pool of light lit the center. It illuminated the wreck of a body on the floor, torn limb from limb. Blood reflected the light, spreading into a wide lake.
The source of the illumination climbed from the wreckage of the body. It glowed with a fierce light, standing shorter than a man’s knee. It was bulked and spiked, muzzled and flamed, covered in gore. It seemed to meet Tylar’s gaze. An intelligence shone there, a match to what he saw in the flaming gaze of the naethryn inside him.
“Pupp…” he said, naming the beast and knowing it to be true.
It shook its spiky mane, flared brighter for a breath, then vanished away, taking its glow with it. Darkness closed over the center of the room. A hundred ravens suddenly took wing, screaming and flying for all the open windows, leaving shadow behind.
A second figure stepped out of the deeper gloom. It was the other girl.
“Dart,” Tylar mumbled.
She trembled, plainly unable to move farther.
Tylar passed Laurelle to Kathryn. “Watch her.”
Unburdened, Tylar hurried into the room. Dart didn’t seem to see him. Her eyes were glazed. Bending down, he took her into his arms and pulled her to his chest. “You’re safe,” he said.
Something like a laugh escaped the child. It was a sound too old for one so young, full of mirthless disbelief. And she was right. They were far from safe.
Still, she burrowed into him. He felt the tears through his thin shirt. He let her cry, rocking her slightly. He could guess what had happened here. He had noted the shirt on the macerated body. Soaked in blood, the hatching of oak leaf and acorn was still evident in silver thread.
The healer must have trapped the girls here, threatened them. Dart had defended herself with the only weapon at hand.
“I… I… killed him.”
“Hush,” he whispered. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
She glanced up from his chest. Her eyes reminded Tylar of the gaze of Wyr-lord Bennifren, a babe with ancient eyes. But this was no Grace of longevity. It was simply the gaze of a girl who had seen too much.
She shook her head. “I wanted him dead. I… I sent Pupp.”
Tylar remembered her story. Before, Pupp had killed in her defense, coming to her aid unbidden. But this time, Dart must have been more directly involved. Now she was waking to the horror of such a committed act.
Still, she kept her feet. Her sobbing slowly settled to intermittent quakes. Tylar knew the brutality
