LOGINZaneIt said three words to us and then it didn't say anything else for what might have been a year.You'd think silence from a monster would be a relief. It wasn't. It was the silence of someone who's said an honest thing by accident and is now mortified about it, and I know that silence, I've lived inside that silence, I am the king of saying a true thing and then needing four jokes to climb back out of having meant it.So I did the thing I do. I talked to it."You're not going to out-quiet me," I told the dark, the weight, the old tired thing held between the three of us. "I want you to know that going in. I have made grieving men laugh at their own father's grave. I once talked a guard named Toller into liking me while bound at the wrists. You are not the toughest audience I've had. You're just the rudest, because at least Toller eventually said something back."Nothing."Fine. I'll go first. My name's Zane, you've technically known me since you wore Corvus and called me by it lik
AmaraThere's no time behind the door. I want to say that plainly, because I spent what might have been the first hour or the first decade trying to find the edges of it and there aren't any, and once you stop looking for edges that aren't there, it gets easier, a little, to just be.We're not cold. That's the first thing I'd tell anyone who asked, if anyone could ask. The dark isn't cold the way the dead ground was cold. It's just dark, total, the kind you'd go mad cataloguing if you were alone in it, and I understand now, all the way down, why Orsel's voice through the warm stone had sounded the way it did. Not broken. Worn.Zane's hand is in mine. Has been the whole time, however long the whole time is. His grip changes... sometimes strong, sometimes faint, the way Wren feels it on her rope, and I've learned to read the faintness the way I used to read his face, which I can't see anymore, none of us can see anything, we're three voices and six hands and the thing held still between
WrenCorin didn't open the satchel that first night. He sat by my fire and drank what I gave him and told me about the lake-thing in careful, exhausted pieces, and I let him, because I know that kind of telling and you don't rush it.It was three nights before he put the satchel on the table between us."You should see what alone costs," he said. "Before you decide you and I are trading even. I don't think we are."Inside, wrapped in oiled cloth, was a hand.Not whole. Three fingers and the heel of a palm, gray-white, frost-burned the way Aldric's had been, the way mine had nearly been on the hill. Old enough that the gray had gone past fresh and into something like stone, preserved by whatever had taken it rather than healed."Mine," Corin said, before I could ask. "I held the lake-thing alone for six hours getting it back into the cage after it slipped. No anchors. No rope. Just me and a working I half-remembered from watching my teacher, getting it wrong in places I didn't know wer
WrenI didn't wait for it to come to me. Waiting is Maren's old patience and I haven't earned that yet, so I did the thing I'm actually good at, which is hunting.I told Seraphine and went out the back of the keeper-house an hour before the watcher usually showed, and circled wide through the wet dark the way you circle a deer stand you don't want the deer to scent, and I came up behind the tree line from the river side instead of the camp side, and I found him exactly where I'd have stood if I were watching that house and didn't want to be seen doing it.A man. Younger than me, maybe, hard to tell in the dark. No weapon out, which told me something. A bag at his feet, half-packed, which told me more... a man ready to run isn't a man planning violence tonight. He was watching the cord-light in Wren's window through the trees with the particular hunger of someone who'd traveled a long way for exactly that light.I put an arrow on him anyway. You don't get careless because a man looks h
SeraphineGreywater was still standing, which we hadn't let ourselves expect, and empty, which we had.Rell brought us in through the bridge gate at dusk on the twelfth day since we'd ridden out, and the town sat there in the thaw with its fires long dead and its doors shut and not a soul on the wall, and for one bad stretch of road I thought we'd find what I'd found at the waystation. Then a dog barked somewhere in the lower town, ordinary and alive, and a window opened, and a face looked out, and within an hour the word had gone through every house that hadn't burned, and people came out into the streets.What was left standing was less than what we'd left. But more than I'd feared.Bram had the four hundred camped two days west in a valley with good water, waiting on a runner, and Rell sent one before she'd even gotten off her horse. I watched her do it and understood she'd been holding that errand in her chest the whole ride home, behind the counting, behind the command voice, a w
SelaIt took us nine days to walk out of a country that had taken us four to walk in, because everybody was broken in a different way and nobody could carry anybody else's broken on top of their own.I'd lost the crutch on the hill and Bram wasn't there to cut me a new one, so I rode the whole way, which sounds easy and isn't, because a horse moving under a leg that doesn't bend right is its own special hell, and I complained about it loudly and often, because that's the job and somebody has to keep doing the job even when the woman who gave it to me is behind a door I can't see.Seraphine rode beside me most of those nine days. We hadn't been people who rode beside each other before. We were people who'd traded sharp looks and sharper history. But she'd dragged me off the hill once with her own ribs full of cold, and I'd hauled her to her feet with my own leg screaming, and that buys you something even between two women who used to plan, on opposite sides of a fire, how the other mig
SeraphineI left my blade at the stake. Bram left his beside it and gave me a look that said he didn't like leaving it any more than I liked him being here. Maren had been right... not alone and Bram was the right not-alone.Rell's camp was the first thing that frightened me, before Rell.It was go
ZaneI didn't have a single joke tonight.We gathered in the dark on the wrong side of the high ground, the moon already starting its long fall toward the trees, and the clock running on us the way Rell's messenger had promised. Amara stood in the middle of us, and she said the thing I'd been dread
Aldric Greywater was the nearest pack Corvus had held, a day and a half east, built where two rivers met and a bridge crossed. We came in slow, into ground we didn't know, and I had the rest of the seventeen spread wide and the forty back with Seraphine, and I had Amara beside me where I could se
AmaraWe were four days out of the dead ground before anyone said the word "home," and the person who said it was Sela."So where's home now." She was off the litter by then, walking short stretches on a crutch Bram cut her. "Genuine question. We won. Nobody's hunting us. I've spent my whole life s







