back. When you remove thegears and metal shafts from my arm, put the crystal back. In timethe crystal will grow together, like human bone.”
A low, sly smile crept over the adept’s face. “Thereis a quicker way.”
He pulled the curtain aside with a flourish.
Hanging in the alcove was an elven skeleton, adelicate marvel of luminous pink crystal.
Rhendish brushed his fingertips over the ribcage as abard might sweep the strings of a harp. Faint music touched theair, like echoes of fairy bells or the memory of childhoodlaughter.
Beneath the eerie sound lay one no human ears couldhear. The sound of magic vibrated through the crystal-a magic asfamiliar to Honor as her own heartbeat. Surely these bones couldbelong to none but her twin-born sister.
“Asteria,” she whispered.
The adept waited until the heartbreaking sound diedaway before speaking.
“No, my dear. Your sister is very much alive.”
That wasn’t possible. “But who. . How. .”
He spread his hands in a gesture of apology. “I’mafraid that some of the details of your history altered somewhat inthe telling. There was a tribunal meeting in your forest grove, andit ended in blood before the traitor was named. That much is true.But that winter night occurred years ago. You have been with meever since.”
Not seasons.
The room tilted and swam as Honor struggled to takethis in. She wanted to deny it, but she could not.
“As you pointed out,” Rhendish said, “the livingcrystal that is elven bone grows. It is amazing to me how swiftlyit grows, and how intelligently. Truly marvelous, what the properapplication of alchemical knowledge and the passage of a few shortyears can accomplish.”
A terrible possibility stirred amid the whirl andtangle of Honor’s thoughts. What this her crystal shadow, born ofher bone?
“Ah, you see it now,” Rhendish said in tones roundedwith satisfaction. “But you’re not yet sure you believe.”
He reached for the skeleton and lifted one delicatehand as if he were a courtier about to honor a lady with akiss.
Honor’s hand lifted in a mirror-true reflection ofthe crystal bones.
The adept dropped both the compulsion and theskeletal hand. “I will restore your sword arm now,” he said. “Therest you will have to earn.”
Horror pounded Honor in crushing waves. She could donothing to resist this, nothing to fight against the magic thatheld her captive.
Of course! Why had she not seen it before?
The strange compulsions, the crystal ring that placeda target on Muldonny, the grim experiments Rhendish had worked onher-these were not the work of alchemy. Whatever he claimed to be,whatever face he showed the world, Rhendish was a sorcerer.
And there was no magic that elven crystal could notfocus and magnify.
It occurred to Honor that there was a
She darted toward the worktable and snatched upsharp, slender metal tool.
Perhaps Rhendish would force her to thrust it intoher own heart. Perhaps he would hit the tool with a burst ofsorcerous lightning and shock her into immobility. Perhaps shewould slip past his guard and plunge the metal into his eye, endinghis life and with it, her only hope of restoration.
Honor lunged at the adept, determined to break hishold on her whatever the cost.
Rhendish lifted one hand in a swift, sharpgesture.
Compulsion slammed into her, stopping her as suddenlyand effectively as an invisible wall.
Honor’s first impulse was to fight it. Instead, sheopened herself to the adept’s magic, drew it deeper into herbeing.
Agony seared through her, bone and sinew. Honordropped to her knees as the weapon fell from nerveless fingers.
She was wrong. Foolish. The sorcerer’s magic was toocrude, too harsh, too powerful, too alien. No elf could ever singin tune with such magic.
And yet, elves could gather energy from starlight.From bonfires, even blizzards.
She did not have to assimilate Rhendish’s magic. Sheonly had to use it.
The compulsion was still an overwhelming, discordantnoise, but surely it contained familiar notes. Honor found one,drew it out in a thin stream, and sent it toward the pale roseskeleton.
For a moment she was back in the Starsingers grove,among a chorus of elves attuned to starlight. She gathered energy,focused it, shared it and received it back in a cycle that went onand on until every elf in the clearing sang with silent power.
Slender crystal arms rose, delicate crystal fingersencircled the adept’s throat.
Tightened.
Rhendish’s eyes widened in shock. He tugged at theskeletal hands for a few moments-the instinctive struggle of anytrapped creature-before he remembered who he was, and what he coulddo.
Unseen threads of magic slipped from the room insearch of the clockwork guards. Honor gathered the threads into asingle cord and sent her own will coursing through it.
Four guards clanked into the room. They dropped toone knee before Honor and raised mailed fists to their chests in agesture of fealty.
Honor turned toward the blue-faced adept.
“Release him, sister,” she said.
Crystal fingers came away from Rhendish’s throat,crystal arms dropped to the skeleton’s sides. The gentle tinkle ofbone against bone sounded like distant, faintly mockinglaughter.
The silence that followed was broken only byRhendish’s rasping breaths. To his credit, he faced Honor withoutflinching, and he offered neither pleas nor blustering threats.
Of course, the effects of his near-throttling couldhave a lot to do with the latter.
“You need my help,” he said at last. “You haven’tbegun to understand how much, or in how many ways.”
Honor could find no words to refute this. “You willrestore my sword arm now,” she said, tossing his words back at him.“As for the rest, it would appear that we both have a great deal tolearn.”
Chapter Twelve: Answers
Return the Thorn to the cabin where you were born.The elves will find you there and answer the questions you musthave.
Fox had read the note a hundred times since he foundit tucked in his mother’s locket. A hundred more before he showedit to his friends.
They responded with enthusiasm, each for reasons oftheir own. Vishni, of course, was eager to pursue a new tale.Delgar confessed that he was still shaken by his experience withthe Thorn, still drawn by the seductive lure of so much power. Hewanted the dagger safely away and in the hands of elves who weretoo stone-deaf to hear its song. Avidan put aside his new-foundclarity along with his blue alchemist tunic, returning to his palegreen clothing and his dreams of faerie lands.
Planning for a trip required far more than Fox wouldhave supposed, and he was more than happy to leave the details toDelgar.
He left his friends to their work and sought a quietplace to think. Several twisting tunnels later, he sank down to thestone floor and closed his eyes. Delgar and Avidan’s voicesfollowed him, mercifully muted to distant echoes.
“Who peed in your porridge?”
