“Don’t listen to them, Aralt. I’ve been down these tunnels more times than I can remember. No, that wasn’t meant to be funny!” Veryl brandished the map in his fist. “Had to find Verin and Alira than one time. Or was it another pair. Terrible when an old man can’t even remember all his children. They’re gone, though. You know that.”

He acknowledged as much, though he did not know the why of it. Not even Alira had told him. It reminded him that they both still had secrets that one day they must reveal.

“It won’t all be easy going,” Veryl rambled on. “Black as the pit, you know, but it shouldn’t be flooded. Be thankful for small things. Except for the ones you should be mindful of—jeraviks, the toothy little devils.” He clacked his teeth together. “Mind you stay out of the river. And of course, you’ll have to pass through the catacombs, but after passing under Mar Alvis that shouldn’t be a problem. See anyone you knew?”

He lifted an eyebrow in response.

“No? You will when you leave here. Your mother’s people. Kellems and Muirs. Good people. All dead, of course.”

“I hate tombs,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. He had lost sight of Lian but could sense his presence. Nearby. The panic had subsided. He’d be doing magic tricks for the children. Where had he learned magic tricks? And how had he perfected healing without the oversight of his parents?

“Almost as much as you hate flying?” Veryl was saying.

“I prefer esri.”

“Your mother told me you puke.”

Of course she had.

“What’s the point of this, Veryl? The map, these tunnels of yours. Where is this going to take us? Don’t tell me Estevedyn.” Wherever it was, it was not in the Northern Alliance.

Veryl Alwynn chuckled to himself. He put a finger to his lips. “Secrets.”

“Don’t toy with syr Tremayne like he’s a moonbear up a tree,” Alira scolded her father. She linked arms with them both. “I think he’s had enough of secrets for one night. We’re tired. Kavsa Lian has been though a lot—yes, yes, I have a story for you. But you know he isn’t going to rest until you allow Gareth to rest. We all need to rest. And eat. And bathe. Sweet Creator, I smell like—”

“Didn’t I leave you over there putting out the fire I left behind?”

She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m hard to get rid of.”

“Hrumph.” He kissed the top of her head, smoothing her wet hair with wrinkled fingers. He tapped her upturned nose. “So was your mother. Lucky for me. Tell Aralt. He’ll be my son eventually. Tell him. Why are you blushing?”

“You’re trying to hang a wedding garland in the middle of a crisis.”

“Pah! He doesn’t mind. You don’t mind, do you?”

He stammered something that didn’t make sense even to himself.

“Just tell him,” Veryl repeated. “No, shh! No, go ahead. No one is listening to us. They’re too busy with practical things.”

“All right, all right. Can we sit down? Please?”

“Hurry up. I could be dead before you get around to it!”

Alira pressed her hands together and took a deep breath. “According to that map, there are passages running clear to the next domains in two directions, and into a cave system that runs up behind the Weeping Wall—which isn't common knowledge. I suppose that means it’s three domains, isn’t it?”

The borders of Draemonna, one of the small domains in the mountains to the south made sense, but Ardorryn, in the direction of the morning sun, was a far greater distance. Impressive. Or impossible. He would believe it when he saw it. That left the third domain. One far above the Weeping Wall. Tyrian. If Tyrian’s last native governor had known, the secret had died with him. He remembered then what the Naharasii chief had claimed a decade before, that the valley had once belonged to them. Why live in tunnels, hidden from the light in a land so fair?

“How far into the mountain does—”

“Don’t fret over the Wall. We’re not going to burrow up under Tyrian!” Veryl crowed. He did a little jig. “Harlyk, on the other hand, oh glory, do you know how long I’ve waited? You’ll be right under his sniffling nose. I hope the little ninny doesn’t drop his crown when you turn up for his birthday unannounced.” The old man clapped his hands. “I should like to see that. Oh, yes, I would. I’m going with you!”

“Oh, no, you are not,” his daughter said. “And no one has followed those passages in years. You could end up in a pit somewhere. Or run out of fuel. Or be eaten by something.”

“Do you hear this, Aralt? Such impertinence. It will be an adventure!”

They’d had enough of adventures for one night, but he came to Alira’s rescue. “You’re needed here, k’talyn. Unless it isn’t safe. You keep saying these vaults are safe, but are they? Will you be safe?” And are we fools for leaving?

“Yes. Yes, it is. We will be safe. And I am needed here.” Veryl pitched the leather map case end-over-end to Scanlin Ross as Aralt’s First Sword joined the group. “Take care of my maps. Now. Where was I? And where are my boots? Alira! I can’t command a household, let alone an army, without my boots.”

“This way.” She pointed toward the nearest fountain. “Come with me.”

“Am I being an old fool?”

“No,” she told him, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at Aralt just now…”

He watched them go, felt himself spinning. He still couldn’t see Lian for the crowd of people that had gathered around the boy. He spotted Kolarin and young Sirram, reunited; it reassured him some.

“Maps?” Scanlin asked, turning the case over and over in his hands.

“To the underworld.”

“Indeed? I reckon that means we’re nae stayin’ in Faerkirke?”

“Apparently not. Nor going overland unless something changes. How soon can Lian travel?”

“A week?”

They both turned when they heard Lian say, “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Behold the Kavistra of Askierran! Behold the hope of a nation…

He felt like laughing for the first time since arriving. He supposed Camryn had done his best. Or taken revenge for the trouble Lian had gotten him into. Someone had trimmed the legs of a pair of long breeches so the boy was treading on a mass of frayed fabric, the waist cinched together like a sack of taters. The cloak he had been given earlier in the day was fastened over a gingham shirt meant for a girl.

“Don’t say it,” Lian told them.

“You look dry and warm, m’lad,” Scanlin replied.

“Aye,” he mimicked his First Sword, grinning. “Dry as toast.”

“There you are! There you are!” Veryl swooped in, taking Lian by the arms and looking him up and down. The old man had but one boot, the laces trailing. Alira chased after him with the second. “Is it well with you, lad? Do you need to rest? The lad needs to rest.”

“You’re missing a boot, sir. Let me help you,” Lian said, guiding the old man to the side of the fountain. He took the boot from Alira and knelt before Veryl Alwynn. “You mustn’t get chilled, k’talyn. This is a fair and wondrous place, but it isn’t warm.”

“Right you are, m’lad. Keep warm. Right you are. You look familiar. Don’t I know you?”

“I’m Lian Kynsei, sir,” Lian told him as he laced up both of Veryl’s boots. “I’m Marcynn’s grandson.”

“Marcynn! The old rascal. You must tell him to come to see me…” Veryl’s head wagged one way and then the other. “You must tell him…”

Watching him fade in and out, like the sun eclipsed by scudding clouds, made Aralt’s chest tighten. Alira had her eyes closed, as if she were willing herself not to cry.

“Yes sir, I will. When I see him, k’talyn. I will. Have you lost something, sir?”

“Hmm? Oh. Maps. My maps.” He patted his doublet, dipping his hands into his pockets. “I had them about me.”

Alira took his hand. “You gave them to Scanlin Ross, Father.”

“Did I?”

“So they can find Estevedyn,” she said kindly.

“Alira, don’t be foolish. You can’t get to Estevedyn this way.” He tapped Lian on the nose and looked Aralt directly in the eye. “But you’ll find it.”

* * *

Alira leaned against him, her head against Aralt’s shoulder. Around them flowed half the inhabitants of Faerkirke, bustling with measured determination. “Alwynn-Muir was to be his sanctuary. We’ve failed before even beginning.”

“Living isn’t failure. There’s no holding back a scourge like this, only surviving. You saw how they were.” What they did.

“In Tyrian, ten years ago, Teren Glynn’s forces met the Naharasii on the battlefield. You drove them back.”

“In Tyrian there was no choice.” There had been no place to hide. He thought of Russ Munro found unconscious in the cellar of a burned-out building. He always turned up. This time would be no different. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Russ would have eschewed the womb of the earth with almost as much superstition as Tycho had.

Far above their heads rose the vaulted ceiling nature had hewn millennia before, the gallery beneath as grand as any cathedral. Burning orbs of oil hung from lampposts spun from jeweler’s crystal, making him squint for all the brightness. Flowstone fell in draperies that seemed to sway in the light. A great fountain had been erected at the center of the chamber—the images ones he had seen repeated in many a garden in Askierran. Here a curved arm reaching, there a sea-creature’s fanned tail, above them a man stepping on the crest of a wave.

The remnant of his company, those that had survived and found their way to safety, assembled at the fountain’s edge awaiting orders. Tevin stood apart with Telta, hands clasped, their foreheads pressed together beneath her hood. It was a scene he saw repeated throughout the cavern as loved ones—and lovers—reunited. How was he to reconcile the powerful opposing desires, to protect Lian at all costs and yet fulfill his duty to the Alwynns in their time of need?

“Don’t even think about it.” Alira’s words sliced into his thoughts.

“Are my thoughts so obvious? Again?”

Her nose wrinkled. Secrets. Always secrets. “My father would never forgive either of us if the kavistra was captured here. You want to stay, but you need to go. It’s warring inside you. Don’t let it tear you apart.”

“I don't know that staying in Faerkirke—even here—is the safest choice for us, but in that case it isn’t the safest for you, either. I wish Verin was here,” he told her, once again taking in the multitude of humanity depending on a man who, at any moment, might forget his name. A man surrounded by aged and weary councilors. Alira lifted her gaze to him, her green eyes flashing. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say you aren’t managing.”

“Oh, I think you did,” she told him lightly, gripping his hand, “but only because you’re concerned about us…about him. All this activity. It’s too much for my father. You need to find Verin and send him to us with any help he can get. From Ardael it’s no time at all to the Enarran border and Elon’s protection if Harlyk won’t help you. The further inland you go, the less likely any Shirahnyn ships will be able to pursue you. Their fuel reserves won’t hold, and the skies will be foreign.”

“Unless they have allies.”

“In the North? No, who…you don’t mean Harlyk. He’s a fool, but he’s far too selfish—and his uncle far too wily—to make alliances with anyone he can’t take advantage of. I can’t imagine he has anything that lonn Tirehl wants.”

“You keep telling me that he’s the one with the biggest fleet.”

“That flies at his whims and mostly for his entertainment. You need one of those ships to get to Kyrrimar. It’s the fastest way.”

“He isn’t going to give it to me, Alira. He’d like nothing more than for the talynt’e Tyrian to fall victim to some happy accident so he can take control of both sides of Loch Bethu.”

“As if Elon would let him. And can you imagine the response from the Kevarni? No. Get to Ardael. Verin will secure a ship for you. He can convince Harlyk. And if he can’t, Elon will steal one. Find them. They’ll help you even if Harlyk doesn’t. In any case, they need to be warned about what has happened here. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Alira….” He had no words. Nothing was going as planned, and the further they went, the more people they put in jeopardy.

“Don’t,” she told him, soft fingertips on his parched lips. “Don’t be angry. Don’t regret. Just do what you must do. Anything less would be unbecoming.”

When she cried, he kissed the tears, remembering her promise to wait for him. Remembering the sea.