Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

For comfort's sake, he'd undressed down to breeches and a white shirt once they'd returned. How he could stand barefoot on the cold floor was beyond her. His feet were so pale … paler than his face and hands.

"We have to find that outside entrance," she said flatly.

Chane shook his head. "If the chamber is in the underworld, I hardly think these Stonewalkers would provide easy access. The tunnel might not be large enough—"

"Then why a grated opening into the pool?" she asked. "One obviously large enough to pass through, though it's blocked."

"The entrance could just as easily be underwater. We do not know for certain where below this massive mountain to find such a—"

"Oh, stop it!" she chided. "I know that you know we're going to try anyway. And … you want to."

Chane fell silent. Finally, he replied, "With all the insurmountable obstacles so far, we should not expect this pursuit to be any better."

Wynn merely waited—until he sighed. For the first time, she noted how odd that was, considering the dead didn't need to breathe.

"Clearly the duchess is a liaison between the royals and Stonewalkers," he said, "as well as between the royals and the guild. It reasons that she also fulfills the third side of that triangle—at least in relation to the texts. We cannot afford to lose track of her if this new endeavor comes to nothing. You stay here and keep watch on her."

Wynn jumped to her feet.

"You mean you can move faster without me," she accused. "Or you're worried it might be dangerous, and I should keep out of the way."

A flash of guilt on his long, clean features confirmed both.

"It will take some time," he added. "If I find something, I will return and take you—"

"This is my purpose, Chane," Wynn cut in. "I left the guild because I was sick of taking orders from people who thought they knew better … and didn't!"

Chane's lips parted, but Wynn kept at him.

"You may be more aware than they are, but that doesn't mean you understand as much as I do—and I don't take orders from you, either!"

"Fine. Then you decide," he returned. "But one of us needs to stay—and watch the duchess."

Wynn turned away, still angry, but only because he was right. "People died in Calm Seatt," she said, "because I was … obedient … and didn't resist until too late."

She heard him step closer, and his voiceless whisper softened.

"You know this part of the world. I do not. For what little success we have had, your instincts have often been better."

Wynn glanced at him, already hearing a "but" coming, though she knew the right decision.

"I have the better senses," he added, "sight and scent … and hearing. But I would have the harder time following the duchess, considering I tower over everyone here."

"All right," Wynn relented, "but take Shade. She has the more acute sense of smell where older scents are concerned. Two can search more quickly than one."

For an instant she thought he would argue, likely thinking she would be left unprotected. Perhaps her fixed stare made him think better of saying so.

"Can you make Shade understand?" he asked. "Make her leave you and go with me?"

"I'll try."

Chane left to gather his things, and Wynn dropped before Shade, touching the dog's face.

She began with memories of Leesil and Chap traveling together. She then turned to their own trials in Calm Seatt, before battling the wraith, when she had left Shade in Chane's company.

Shade snarled and pulled away, and Wynn had to grab her neck.

Wynn raised the image of the chamber and its pool. Working with a memory that had come to her thirdhand was difficult. She tried to focus upon the water-filled tunnel beyond the grate.

The door opened, and Chane stood in the hallway fully dressed and armed. Reaching around the door, he set the old tin scroll case on the side table, leaving it in Wynn's care.

Wynn lifted Shade's muzzle and pointed at Chane.

Shade snarled again. Instead of pulling away, this time she dropped to her haunches, grinding her foreclaws on stone.

Wynn held Shade's face and tried again.

"Please understand," she said.

Shade growled, but it quickly turned to a soft whine. She peered at Chane, swung her nose back to Wynn, and then pulled away. Shade trotted toward the door, and Chane outside. Wynn sighed in relief.

Shade swerved suddenly and headed straight for the sun-crystal staff leaning against the wall.

Before Wynn could get up, the dog rose on hind legs, forelegs braced on the wall. She clamped her jaws on the staff as high as she could reach.

"Shade?" Wynn called. "Shade … stop that!"

Shade twisted off the wall. The instant her paws landed, she trotted off, dragging the staff behind the bed's far side.

Wynn clambered across the bed, reaching for the staff. Shade dropped it, planting both huge forepaws atop its haft.

"What is wrong with you?" Wynn demanded, grabbing for the staff.

She jerked it from under Shade's paws and backed across the bed. Before she got halfway, Shade clamped its haft with her teeth and heaved.

Wynn flopped facedown on the bed. "Let go!"

Shade growled and heaved again.

Wynn shot headfirst over the bed's side, hanging upside down below a stubborn Shade.

"I should go alone," Chane said. "She does not want to leave you."

No, that wasn't it. Shade was trying to tell her something else, but at the moment, Wynn didn't care.

"Give it to me!" she growled through clenched teeth.

Wynn twisted over, slapping at Shade's legs while her own were still hooked over the bed's edge. In that upside-down tug-of-war, she finally twisted the staff out of Shade's mouth. When the dog tried to grab it again, she scrambled away across the bed.

Shade hopped up and began barking, and Wynn finally realized what this was all about.

She rarely went anywhere without the staff. Shade had pinned it down, trying to insist that Wynn "stay put" in this room.

"I'm following the duchess!" Wynn growled back. "You are going with Chane. Now get!"

With a sharp huff through wrinkled jowls, Shade bounded off and out past Chane, rumbling all the way. Wynn exhaled in frustration, though Chane just shook his head and closed the door. She got up, brushing herself off, and went to return the staff to its place.

She was sick and tired of everyone telling her what to do or not do, even a dog now. She snatched the scroll case off the table and headed for the bed. Then she froze in the middle of the room.

Wynn turned very slowly and stared at the door.

She imagined Chane following a peeved Shade. Not Shade following Chane, but rather … the petulant, adolescent majay-hì had been leading the way.

"Oh … oh, you …" Wynn began, unable to get the words out.

She ran for the door, jerked it open, and rushed out.

Chane and Shade were already gone, but Wynn still knew one thing: She had shown Shade what needed to be done, but the dog had given up only once Wynn had lost her temper and ordered Shade out … using language, not memory-speak! And how could Shade have understood what Wynn planned to do as her own task while Chane—and Shade—were away?

Wynn clutched the scroll case hard. "You little sneak … just like your father!"

Shade had understood words—at least enough to know exactly what Wynn planned to do.

All this time wrestling with memory-speak until her head ached—and now it seemed Shade understood at least some of what she heard. Wynn stepped back inside and slammed the door.

"Oh … I've got some choice words for you … when you get back!"

Sau'ilahk heard and saw through his servitor half-submerged in the ceiling stone of Wynn's room. He quickly recalled it.

The servitor rose from the inn's side wall, surfacing like a four-legged spider from mottled gray water. Sau'ilahk reached out with one solidified hand and snatched its rock body.