After a few more minor pieces of business, the meeting ended. Han meant to leave right away, so there wouldn’t be time to set up a new ambush, and so nobody would trail him to his secret entrance. But Micah got between him and the door before he could exit.
“Hold on, Alister,” Micah said. “I’d like a word with you.”
The others filed by and out the door, leaving them alone.
“How did you get here?” Micah asked, tilting his head in inquiry. “Did you fly?”
“What do you mean?” Han said, broadening his stance and taking hold of his amulet.
“I didn’t see your horse in the stables. I didn’t see you anywhere along the road. Very mysterious.”
“Why?” Han asked. “Did you want to ride up here together? I wish I’d known.”
“You may be king of the thieves, but this isn’t Ragmarket,” Micah said. “Whatever your game, you’re on our playing field now.”
“I never thought this was a game,” Han said.
“I don’t know what kind of threats you’ve made against Queen Raisa, or why she tolerates you, but if you betray her, or hurt her in any way, I will come after you.” Micah emphasized the last few words in case Han didn’t get it.
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of hurting or betraying the queen.” Han paused, holding Micah’s gaze. “Feel better now?”
“I expect to feel better very soon,” Micah said, smiling. “Take care.” He turned and walked out the door.
Han took every precaution against being followed on his way back to the tunnels, even though he assumed his enemies would wait until he got clear of the Council House before making a move. He glamoured up and traveled through the kitchens again, putting up magical webs to entangle anyone in pursuit. Once convinced that no one had tailed him, he descended to the lowest cellar. Brushing away evidence of his passage as best he could, he dropped open the hatch to the tunnel and lowered himself through, fastening the door behind him. His saddlebags still lay where he’d left them.
Looping them over his shoulder, he opened the door to the rock chamber where the boiling spring had been. He didn’t look forward to enduring that again. But he found himself in a dry rock chamber. Steps led up to the chamber above.
As he mounted the steps, he caught a whiff of sulfur. Keeping his eyes forward, he climbed to the top and out of the rock chamber. When he looked back, there was the blue spring again, steaming and stinking and seemingly deadly.
He descended through the gently sloping tunnel at a trot. He’d accumulated a little more flash while he sat in the council meeting. One by one, he disabled magical barriers, the same as he’d encountered on his way in. As he ran, he mapped the path in his mind.
Finally, the tunnel flattened into the straight, broad pathway back to the entrance cave. Here there were fewer barriers, and Han made rapid progress.
When he reached the opening into the cave where he’d left Dancer, it was still covered with a mist of magic. A raven was etched into the stone on this side as well. Once again, he scraped away layers of charms until only one fine layer stood between him and the outside.
Pressing his palm against the raven, speaking the final charm, he walked through it.
Gratefully, he sucked cold fresh air into his lungs. There, and back, and still alive. That was something to be grateful for.
By now it was dark outside, and pitch black inside the cave where his wizard light didn’t penetrate. Only a faint glow told him where the exit was.
“Dancer?” he called softly.
No answer.
Han circled the cave, illuminating the dark corners. No Dancer. He walked to the opening and peered out.
Dancer lay flat on his back on the ground just outside the cave, his body in glowing outline, eyes closed. Tendrils of vine were looped around his legs and arms. Had it not been for the flash emanating from him, Han might have overlooked him.
“Dancer?”
Dancer didn’t seem to hear.
Worry knotted Han’s stomach. He knelt next to Dancer and shook him hard. “Dancer! Hey, now, wake up!”
Dancer opened his eyes and looked at Han. He blinked several times, as if he’d been in a trance. Then his eyes focused on Han and he smiled dreamily.
“What are you doing?” Han said, sitting back on his heels. “I thought … I didn’t know what to think.”
“I was tracking you, inside the mountain,” Dancer whispered. He sat up, bits of damp leaves clinging to his back. “I’m experimenting,” he said, shaking off leaf mold and twigs. “The Spirit clans draw power from the land. That’s what fuels flash-crafting, healing, and the rest. It happens naturally when we’re in the Spirits. I wondered if I could accelerate the process, using high magic.”
“And?” Han tilted his head.
Dancer shrugged, still looking as though he were deep in his cups. “I think it worked, though I’m not sure where the magic is, whether in my amulet or … elsewhere. It was … like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I could feel energy flowing through the earth, like a blood supply, augmenting the magic I produce myself. I felt … embraced.” He smiled beatifically.
“Hmmm,” Han said. “Well, I hope that means you have flash on board, because I’m nearly out.”
“Don’t worry,” Dancer said vaguely, patting Han on the arm. “All will be well.”
I hope you’re right, Han thought. Right now, I just don’t see it.
Raisa rattled the dice in the cup and slammed them against the wall. Coming up on her knees, she leaned forward to examine the result.
“You’re dead, Your Majesty!” Cat crowed. “All bones. Again.” Scooping up the dice, she plopped them back in the cup.
“I think there’s something wrong with those dice,” Raisa grumbled.
“It’s all in the wrist,” Cat said smugly. “Bred into us in Ragmarket and Southbridge.”
“That’s why it’s unseemly for the queen of the realm to be playing nicks and bones.” Magret spoke from the hearth corner, startling them. Raisa had thought she was asleep in her chair. She’d been drinking sherry for her aching bones again. “Caterina, you should ask Queen Raisa to teach you hunters and hares. That’s more suitable to a lady. And a lady’s maid.”
Cat shrugged. “She asked me to teach her,” she said. “I can’t help it if she’s unlucky. My mam used to say, you’re either lucky in the boneyard or lucky in love.”
And I’m not lucky at either, Raisa thought.
“You want to play on, or are you ready to pay up?” Cat asked, shaking the cup under Raisa’s nose enticingly. “Your luck may be ready to turn.”
“I’ll pay up,” Raisa said, yawning. “It’s late, and I’ve died too many times tonight already.”
It was late—after midnight—but Raisa was stalling, waiting for Han Alister to return from wherever he was hiding out this evening. She’d scarcely seen him since their