green of early spring.
Honor wondered whether the others knew why.
Humans who lived near the forest knew better than towear pale green, or to sing certain songs in the dark of the moon.Sound and color had a profound effect on the fey. Perhaps Fox hadonce known that wearing light green drew the attention of the fairycourt, but years of city life had imposed a new set of survivalrules.
Still, how was it that none of them noticed the feywildness lurking in Avidan’s eyes, the distinctive dance of hisskittering thoughts? The man had dwelt in Faerie. Of that Honor wascertain. The experience had broken him into tiny shards and rebuiltthe pieces into patterns few mortals could understand.
And if the color of his clothing signified what shethought it did, Avidan longed to return to the fairy realm.
Vishni had to know this.
The fairy turned to Honor, as if she’d heard herunspoken name. “And now it is time for our guest to tell her tale,”she said gaily, laying a hand on Honor’s arm.
A sound like swift-melting ice filled the stonechamber. Vishni hissed and snatched her hand away.
She regarded her palm for a long moment beforelifting it for the others to see. Blisters rose on her slimfingers.
“Cold iron,” she said in a flat voice.
Every eye turned to Honor. She pushed up the sleeveof her tunic to display the etched metal bracer covering herforearm, a “gift” from Rhendish.
“I did not expect to find fairies beneath thecity.”
“No one does,” Fox said. His dismissive tone broughta scowl to Vishni’s face that no one but Honor seemed to observe.“Tell us about the rose dagger. Do you have any idea where it mightbe?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “I know who has it. Do you knowof a man named Muldonny?”
Silence settled over the group like morning fog.
The fairy’s pout eased and lifted into a slow,speculative smile. “This,” she said, “is going to be a lot more funthan I’d expected.”
Chapter Five: Illusions
Honor watched as four dwarves, short sturdy men assolid and gray as the stone beneath Muldonny’s lair, tappedsteadily at a solid rock wall. Chips of rock tumbled to the tunnelfloor, but the pickaxes made no more sound than elven boots on aforest path.
One of the dwarves, a broad-shouldered fellow whosehead barely reached Honor’s shoulder, stepped back from his workand swiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
“It’s a mite too hot hereabouts for an old cistern,”he said. “I’m not one to be telling you your business, Delgar, butyou’re sure where we’re headed?”
The young dwarf glanced at Honor. She returned hisgaze steadily, letting him see the warning in her eyes.
“Not entirely,” he said.
His crew exchanged glances. “Then you know what wecould be walking into.”
Stories echoed in the silence, tales they’d all heardof how the adepts wrested Sevrin from the sorcerer who’d ruled itlonger than any living human could remember. Muldonny had played nosmall part in that victory. His art was fashioning liquids withterrible properties: Fire that could not be quenched, fumes thatkilled anyone within twenty paces, and solvents that ate throughmetal armor.
Muldonny kept stores of these liquids beneath hismanor and in armories scattered around Stormwall Island. Cuttingthrough the wrong wall could result in a deluge of flesh-dissolvingsludge, or send liquid fire speeding along the tunnel.
“Let me study on it,” Delgar said. “We’ll break offnow and come back at it tomorrow.”
The dwarves eyed him for a moment before respondingwith curt nods. They gathered up their tools and disappeared into anarrow side tunnel.
Among elves, such behavior would be seen as beyondrudeness and well into the realm of mutiny, but Honor knew theStone Folk’s ways well enough to recognize the deference they paidthe young dwarf.
The Carmot dwarves, like most of the other Old Races,put great store in their ancestry, but dwarves of common birth andexceptional talent were known to attract fame and followers.
Honor had no idea what Delgar’s lineage might be, buthe possessed gifts that could inspire other dwarves to take uptools, and perhaps weapons, at his direction. That made him useful,but it also made him dangerous.
She watched as Delgar moved into the tunnel openingand placed one hand on either wall. He closed his eyes and began tosing.
The song started out as a pleasant bass chant, butthe melody descended until the notes sank beyond the reach ofHonor’s hearing. She could still feel them, though. Deep vibrationshummed through the stone and echoed in her bones.
A thin, irregularly shaped layer of stone peeled awayfrom the wall near the tunnel. Delgar caught it as it started tofall forward and moved it over the tunnel opening. It fit as snuglyas a peel fits an apple.
Honor ran her fingers over the place where the tunneldoor once stood. The rock wall was seamless. If she hadn’t seenDelgar hide the tunnel, she would never suspect it was there. Theyoung dwarf’s skill at stoneshifting was nothing short ofastonishing.
“You didn’t tell them about the Thorn,” Honorsaid.
Delgar sank down on a boulder and wiped his sleeveacross his face. “If I had, they would have dug through a livevolcano to get to it.”
The elf sat down beside him. “How is it,” she saidhesitantly, “that someone of your ability cannot sense the dagger’spresence? That much carmite should be drawing you to it like aloadstone draws iron fillings.”
“Several possibilities come to mind,” the dwarf said.“Top of the list: Muldonny doesn’t have the Thorn.”
“It was stolen from my people. He bought it from thethieves.”
“You’re sure of this.”
“They confessed it before they died.”
This was not exactly what Rhendish had said, butHonor suspected her version lay closer to the truth.
Delgar accepted it with a nod. Dwarves, like elves,had pragmatic views on how to deal with enemies and thieves.
“Second, he’s keeping it somewhere else.”
“That’s a possibility,” Honor said, “but what placewould be as secure as the fortress that has successfully guardedthe entrance to Sevrin for a dozen human lifetimes?”
“True. The third possibility is that he has castmagic to hide its presence, same as you elves do.”
“He’s an adept. They don’t use magic.”
“That’s what they say. That might even be what theybelieve. But some of the things they make are magic by anothername, and no one can tell me differently.”
Honor saw no reason to dispute this. “So Muldonny hascreated an area filled with some sort of alchemical energy thatdisguises the Thorn’s powers.”
“That would be my guess.”
“Which would mean he knows more about the Thorn thanany human should.”
Delgar muttered a curse. “I hadn’t thought it inthose terms.” He scrubbed both hands over his face, then sent her asmall, rueful smile. “To be honest, I don’t like the idea of elvesholding onto so much carmite, but at least you people have thesense not to use it. I’ve yet to meet a well-informed human whocould resist acting on his knowledge.”
“Time is short.”
“Very.” He paused for a thin smile. “But thanks fornot adding ‘and so are you.’”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why would I dothat?”
“Why indeed? Apparently I’ve been spending too muchtime around humans. So, what do you propose we do
