LITMIR.BIZ

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that was recessed behind those columns, stopped. She had once seen a cathedral that was smaller than this. It had been rounder; the Barrani building favored flat surfaces, rather than obvious domes. But it was, to her eye, a single piece of stone, and trellises with startling purple flowers trailed down its face. A fountain stood between two open archways, and water trickled from the stone curve of an artfully held vase. The statue that carried the vase seemed a perfect alabaster woman, half-naked, her feet immersed.

      She looked almost lifelike.

      And Kaylin had seen statues come to life before, in the halls of Castle Nightshade.

      “Kaylin,” Teela said, the syllables like little stilettos, “what are you doing?”

      “Staring,” she murmured. Half-afraid, now that she was here. It was almost like being in a foreign country. She had never ventured to this part of Elantra before. Would not, in fact, have been given permission to come had she begged on hands and knees.

      Standing here, she knew why; she did not belong on this path. Unnoticed until that thought, she looked at what lay beneath her feet. She had thought it stone, but could see now that it was softer than that. Like moss, like something too perfect to be grass, it did not take the impression of her heavy—and scuffed—boots.

      Teela jabbed her ribs. “We don’t have time,” she whispered. It was the most Teela-like thing she’d done since Kaylin entered the Hawklord’s tower, and the familiarity of the annoyed gesture was comforting. And painful; the Barrani had bony hands.

      She swallowed and nodded, and Teela, grabbing her by the hand, began to stride toward the left arch.

      It was work just to keep up. Kaylin stumbled. Her legs still hadn’t recovered from the ride. But she had just enough dignity that she managed to trot alongside the taller Barrani noble. Severn walked by her side with ease and a quiet caution that spoke of danger.

      She noticed, then, that he wore a length of chain wrapped round his waist, the blade at one end tucked out of sight. He had not unwound it, of course; he wasn’t a fool. There were no obvious guards at either arch, no obvious observers, but Kaylin had a suspicion that Teela would have taken it upon herself to break his arms if he tried.

      Kaylin wanted to marvel at the architecture, and buildings rarely had that effect on her. She wanted to see Aerians sweeping the heights above, and Leontines prowling around the pillars that were placed beneath those heights, as if they held up not only ceiling but sky. She wanted to stop a moment to look at—to touch—the plants that grew up from the stone, as if stone were mooring.

      But she did none of these things. Beauty was a luxury. Time was a luxury. She was used to living without.

      A large hall—everything was large, as if this were designed for giants—opened up to the right. Teela, cursing in Elantran, walked faster. Kaylin’s feet skipped above the ground as she dangled.

      She saw her reflection in marble, and again in glass; she saw her reflection in gold and silver, all of them distorted ghosts. She couldn’t help herself; Teela kept her moving, regardless.

      There were candles above which flames danced; nothing melted. There were pools of still water, and the brilliant hue of small fish added startling life to their clarity. Too much to see.

      And then there were doors, not arches, and the doors were tall. There were two, and each bore a symbol.

      Her natural dislike of magic asserted itself as Teela let her go. But Teela stepped forward, and Teela placed her palms flat against the symbols. The doors swung wide, and without looking, Teela grabbed Kaylin and dragged her across the threshold.

      She didn’t even see the doors swing shut. She saw Severn skirt them as they moved, that was all. She had scant time to notice the room they’d entered.

      It was an antechamber of some sort. There were chairs in it, if that was even the right word. They seemed more like trees, to Kaylin’s untutored eyes, and branches rose up from their base, twisting and bearing bright fruit.

      These, Teela passed.

      They had walked a city block, or two, in Kaylin’s estimation; everything was sparse and empty.

      The chamber passed by, and they entered one long hall. This was older stone, and harsher. It was rough. There were no plants here, and no flowers, no gilded mirrors and no pools. Weapons adorned the walls instead; weapons and torch sconces of gleaming brass.

      But the weapons were fine, and their hilts were jeweled. If the gems were cold, they added the fire of color to the hall itself. “Don’t touch anything,” Teela said in curt Elantran.

      At the end of this hall was a single door. Kaylin stopped walking then. Teela didn’t.

      “Kaylin?” Severn asked. It was hard for him not to notice that her feet were now firmly planted to the floor.

      “The door—” She looked up at him, trying not to struggle against Teela’s grip. She hated to lose, even now. Animal instinct made it hard; she did not want to pass through that door.

      “Teela,” Severn said, curt and loud.

      Kaylin’s ineffectual struggle hadn’t actually garnered the Barrani’s attention; Severn’s bark did. She stopped walking and looked back at him.

      Kaylin’s gaze bounced between them a couple of times, like a die in a random game of chance. “The door,” she said at last, when she came up sapphires. Teela’s eyes.

      Teela frowned, and those eyes narrowed. But she asked no further question. Instead, she turned to look at the door. It was a Hawk’s gaze, and it transformed her face.

      Her cursing transformed her voice. It was short, but it lingered. “Step back,” she said. She turned back down the hall and dragged a polearm from the wall. It was a halberd.

      “Farther back,” she added as she readied the haft. Severn caught Kaylin by the shoulders, frowned, and then lifted her off her feet. He ran back the way they’d come, leaving Teela behind. Kaylin could hear his heart. Could almost feel it, even though he wore armor. Funny thing, that.

      “What are you—”

      Teela threw the halberd. It wasn’t a damn spear; it shouldn’t have traveled like one. But it did.

      The door exploded. It shattered, wooden shards the size of stakes blowing out in a circle. The halberd’s blade shattered as well, and a blue flame burned in its wake.

      Without a pause, Teela grabbed another weapon from the wall. It was a pike. She set its end against the floor and stood there, hand on hip, as if she were in the drill circle in the courtyard of the Halls of Law.

      “What’s it look like now?” she asked Kaylin.

      Severn set her down gently, but he did not let go of her.

      “It looks like a bloody big hole,” Kaylin replied.

      “A scary hole?”

      “Could you be more patronizing?”

      “With effort.”

      “Don’t bother.”

      The fleeting smile transformed Teela’s expression. It was grim, and it didn’t last long. “Good spotting,” she said, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

      “Don’t you think someone’s going to be a bit upset?”

      “Oh, probably.” She didn’t put the pike down. “Look at what it did to the frame.” Her whistle was pure Hawk.

      The stone frame that had held the door and its hinges looked like a standing crater. The roof was pocked.

      “What was that?”

      Teela shrugged. “A warning.”

      “A warning?”

      “Of a sort. I imagine it was meant to be a permanent warning.” She seemed

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