sight for sore eyes. Mud and other unmentionable filth were caked all over them. They stood blinking, wiping the muck out of their eyes, and taking in the undulating bodies of the Wrayth mind with more than a little slack-jawed incredulity.
“I am sure,” Sorcha said, trying to draw away their attention, “you wish at least one of you had taken me up on my offer.”
Aleck, the tallest of the crew members, was rubbing the small of his back. Crawling and crab-walking through the muck of the Wrayth fortress could not have been fun for him in particular. “Remind me of that next time.”
Aachon insisted on flicking as much filth off himself as he could, before embracing Raed. It had been months since the Young Pretender had seen his first mate, and he was damned if he was going to stand on ceremony. He grabbed him roughly and hugged him, quite lost for words.
“My prince,” Aachon stumbled out, “it is good to see you alive and well—though somewhat lacking in the clothing department.” Then he swung a rucksack off his back, and proceeded to pull out pants, boots, shirt, a pistol and most remarkably a stout leather tricorne hat. He had even thought to bring a second sword.
“Familiarity certainly doesn’t breed contempt in your case,” Raed exclaimed, and clasped his friend’s arm. “It only makes you much better prepared.” The rest of the crew members let him dress before roughly shaking his hand and slapping him on the back.
After so long apart, Raed felt like he was back among family again. Yes, family—the only real one he’d ever had.
“I am sorry to do this to you, old friend,” he said, breaking into their moment of congratulations, “but we cannot leave just yet—though I do yearn to climb into a sewage pipe with you. Fraine and Tangyre are here, and we must get my sister away before she creates bloodshed in the Empire.”
Aachon and Sorcha exchanged a puzzled look. “Are you suggesting,” the first mate growled, “that the Wrayth have them prisoner?”
By the Blood, it was hard to have to say the words, but they all deserved to know, and more importantly they couldn’t go charging around the Wrayth nest not knowing who their enemies were. “No, I am not. They are here of their own free will.” He clamped his hand on Aachon’s upper arm. “Tangyre Greene has been poisoning Fraine’s mind for years. My sister is trying to drag Arkaym into civil war to gain the throne for herself.”
“It will be civil war,” Aachon whispered. “Thousands will be killed. Thousands of innocents.”
“Not if we get her away from here.” Raed glanced back at the writhing human bodies behind them, full with the influence of the Wrayth, now part of its twisted mind. “We can’t let her be used.”
“I agree, my prince, we cannot.”
Raed appreciated Sorcha was quiet at his side. He ploughed on. “I last saw Fraine up in the top levels. I think that is where the higher-functioning parts of the Wrayth mind are. They were drinking blood, and my sister was making some kind of pact with them.”
A mutter ran through the assembled crew members—it was not something that anyone would expect of their royals—but they hefted their weapons to show that they weren’t about to back down either.
His first mate nodded, his hand clenching around his weirstone. Then as his eyes fell on the wall behind the mass of fornicating Wrayth, they widened. “Look at that, my prince. Most interesting don’t you think?”
It was a formation of weirstones set in the wall. It described a circle just a fraction taller than a man, and inside the circle it was completely dark. Sorcha jerked back from it, and even the crew members jostled sideways when they saw it. Aachon was the only one that seemed fascinated by whatever it was. “It appears to be some kind of transportation device, by the cantrips worked in with the stones. But I can’t quite understand—”
“Don’t!” Sorcha yanked the first mate’s hand back before he could touch the blackness. “Merrick encountered something like this underneath Chioma. There is no way of knowing where it might take you.”
She glanced at Raed. “This is what my mother used to escape once she got out of the cells.”
“Mother?” Aachon’s interest was now obviously piqued.
Raed knew they couldn’t stand around arguing; at any moment the Wrayth could become aware of their presence, and then there would be no chance to stop Fraine. He threw his hands up in the air. “We’ll talk about that later. For now let’s concentrate on finding my sister and getting out of this damned hive. This weirstone device isn’t going to help us do that.”
“I could have the answer, Captain.” Jocryn called them over to the wall a little farther on. “Look at this.”
It was the shaft that the Rossin had fallen down. Naturally the Beast had not taken much notice of the thing the man was pointing out, for it was a set of pulleys and gears made of wood and brass, and anything without flesh was of no use to him. However, the first mate smiled broadly.
“This is quite ingenious.” Aachon was pointing to a switch on the wall, a kind of small brass lever. It was set into the wall, and although currently in the middle of a vertical groove, looked like it could be slid, up or down. Waving his hand like he were some kind of magician, Aachon moved it into the up position.
They all leapt when a jangle of chain and a rattle of gears started. Raed stuck his head farther into the shaft and observed something descending toward them. Hastily he pulled back. Within a few more moments the large box had descended. The side of the box facing into the room was open, and the interior was large enough for at least ten people to stand comfortably in it.
“With a fortress this large, and levels extending both above and below ground it makes sense,” Aachon explained, seemingly quite pleased with himself. “I have heard the tinkers of Supo have been working on such a thing. I believe they call it a riser.”
Sorcha shook her head. “Geistlords working with weirstones
“We can use this to get up to the top levels?” Raed asked, and when Aachon nodded, he felt their chances improve a little more. “But how will we find Fraine? As I already discovered, this place is huge. They took my map and it’s not particularly easy to navigate.”
His first mate pulled out his weirstone and peered into its blue surface. “I know you will find it hard to believe my prince, but you still share a bond with your sister. A bond of blood is a powerful thing.”
“I know that myself,” Sorcha muttered, glancing back down toward the cells.
Raed squeezed her fingers lightly. He knew she was going to struggle with what she had discovered here, but he was impressed she was not falling apart. Deacon training still held firm apparently.
“Fraine has forsaken the bond of family,” he muttered, “but it is nice to know it will still be of some use.” Raed was the first to step into the riser. “Now, let’s go stop a civil war while we can.”
Sorcha, Aachon and the rest of the crew followed him in. Tangyre was going to have a very nasty shock, and he was going to enjoy seeing her expression a great deal.
SIXTEEN
Plans and Patterns
Zofiya dreamed of her time in Delmaire. It was a pleasant dream—one without any sign of her father. She held Kaleva, a toddler, warm, soft and giggling in her arms. They sat in the sun on a warm stone bench in one of their father’s palace courtyards, totally alone. The thick smell of honeysuckle and roses had almost made her giddy. She was wrapped in such happiness that she struggled to hold on to the sensation.
Then Kal had slipped off her lap and ran toward the fountain. As she watched, the water flowing in it had turned to blood, and she—unable to move from the bench—had cried out to him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He just kept toddling toward the danger, arms outstretched, laughing and crowing to himself. Her cries made no difference to him.
Zofiya struggled to regain consciousness—as if it were her life that was at stake, not Kaleva’s. She only knew that she didn’t want to see the end of the dream.
Finally, her own shouts woke her. When she realized she had made it from the dream world and opened her eyes, she was disappointed.
The Grand Duchess Zofiya was still a prisoner. The cruel device was pushed back against the wall, but its
