6: THE HAND IN THE WALL

Xivan’s memory

Six days after the Battle of the Well of Spirals

The mountains of the Dominion of Yor, Quur

The trip back to Yor from the Kirpis forest was instantaneous.

Xivan had assumed it would take days, if not weeks—time to reach a city, time to convince some idiot to open a gate so they could return home. Senera had left without them, after all. But Tya—yes, that Tya, Goddess of Magic—had asked them where they wanted to go. When Xivan had answered, “Back to the Spurned,” Tya had just waved a hand and …

And they were back in Yor. As if they’d never left. As if Tya had brought her back to a time before Xivan had been quite so acquainted with failure. The Spurned camp hadn’t even moved, still trapped in the same stone-and-ice canyon where they had been wintering the worst of the Yoran storms. The bitterly cold air frosted the tips of Xivan’s eyelashes with tiny crystals. It made Talea’s breath freeze as soon as it left her body. Even for Yorans, this weather was a bit much.

They had only stayed to make sure Xivan and Talea could find their way back. The women greeted her with cheers and warmth that provided no succor at all. She couldn’t so much as look at them without thinking of other white-skinned witches, of Suless’s hyena eyes, of the bodies of her child and husband, left hanging to bleed out.

These women had once worshipped Suless, and if she had been willing to overlook it once, that had all changed. Still, she tried to do the right thing. She tried to pretend it didn’t matter.

But it did. It mattered a great deal.

Her husband was dead. Her son was dead. She’d given Urthaenriel away, and Suless was—Suless was out of her reach. Janel had said the Queen of Witches had become a demon, who could travel anywhere she wanted, at will.

Suless was no longer confined to base matter, no longer trapped in the Living World. Xivan had no ability to chase after her. No recourse if she caught up to her. Suless could toy with Xivan forever. And would. Just for the sheer, ugly, petty joy of doing so. Xivan didn’t know if Suless had hidden her husband’s and son’s souls or if she’d eaten them in the manner of all demons.

She suspected the latter.

Xivan didn’t sleep really, not in her current state caught between the Living World and the Afterlife, but she did dream.¹ And for every night since their return, she roused herself from a sleeplike stupor to the sound of her own screaming, dreaming of blood and death and betrayal. When Talea tried to shake her out of it on the sixth night, Xivan pulled her sword from next to their sleeping blankets and swung at her lover. It was only by blind luck that Talea managed to duck out of the way.

“What’s wrong? What can I do?” Talea asked her, kneeling. Pretending Xivan hadn’t just tried to kill her.

It was still night, the darkness of the Yoran mountains so absolute the world seemed to end outside the limits of the dying Spurned campfires. It was, as always, freezing, but Xivan realized the cold was from more than the climate.

She’d gone too long without eating.

“Find Senera,” Xivan croaked, rubbing her eyes.

“I’m not sure—” Talea wrung her hands, fumbling with some excuse.

“Find Senera!” Xivan screamed. “And get away from me!”

Talea fled while Xivan put her head in her hands. Just for a moment. Then she threw off her blankets and put on her boots.

This couldn’t end like this. She refused to let it end like this.

Suless wasn’t going to win.

Xivan stalked out of the camp and waited near a frozen stream, crouched down, watching the darkness. Leaving Janel alive, she decided, had been a moment of weakness. If Xivan had killed Janel while Suless had still possessed her body, Xivan would have ended Suless’s threat for good. Instead, she’d given Suless time to fucking ascend.

Talea didn’t come back for several hours. When she did, Senera was with her, looking put out. “Xivan, are you stupid? Maybe you don’t want to be contacting me right now. Let’s not remind Relos Var of what you did.”

Xivan lifted the corner of her lip. “What I did was help kill Thaena. Was that not what your master wanted?”

Senera gave Talea a look, as if somehow implying she should have talked more sense into Xivan. Then Senera turned back to the duchess. “Pretty sure he wanted that and also for you to keep the gods-damned sword. And in any event, don’t assume I’m at your beck and call. I only have one master, and you look nothing like him.”

Xivan didn’t grace that last bit with the courtesy of a response. “I want to know where the Stone of Shackles is.”

Senera blinked. “You what?”

“The Stone of Shackles. I want to know where it is. I’ll pay any price you name.”

Senera looked more than a little confused. “Xivan … why do you want to know? It can’t possibly—” Her eyes widened. “You want to go after Suless.”

Xivan slammed her hand down against a slab of rock, creating a loud report. “Yes! The Stone of Shackles won’t care that she’s a demon. The Stone of Shackles works perfectly well on demons. Just tell me who has it.”

Senera stared at her, considering. Finally, she said, “Let’s return to camp, have some tea, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Without saying another word, Xivan turned around and headed back.

---

Xivan paced while Senera did everything but consult the Name of All Things. Talea stood by the side, watching Xivan nervously. The women who hadn’t been woken by Xivan’s screaming were almost certainly awake now, as Talea added more logs to the fire and went about the business of faking good hospitality.

One of the Spurned served Senera buttered tea, which she drank with the appreciation of someone who had spent years among the Yoran mountain peoples. But finally, Xivan lost her patience.

“Well? Are you going to use the Name of All Things or not?” she snapped.

Senera raised an eyebrow at her. “I had hoped you were going to—”

“What?” Xivan said. “Let this go? Just forget about the lives that bitch has taken? About losing the only people I care about?”

Talea shot her a strange look.

Senera sighed. “Relos Var won’t let you keep it,” she explained. “Not after you gave up Urthaenriel. He has plans for the Cornerstones. Even if he allowed you to chase after it, he would want it turned over.”

“What’s he going to do, steal it from me?” Xivan asked.

Senera looked at her sideways. “Do you have any idea how easy it is to take the Stone of Shackles from someone like you if one knows how it works? Yes, he’d take it from you. And you wouldn’t like how.”

Xivan scowled. “Fine. I only want it for a little bit. He can have it back when I’m done.” She waved a hand toward Senera. “Now do your thing.”

Senera drank her tea.

Xivan stopped pacing. “Well?”

Senera shrugged. “I don’t need to ask a question when I already know the answer. If it were easy to recover, Relos Var would have already done so.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me who has it, and I’ll take care of the rest.” Xivan clenched her hands into fists. “Just tell me.” She knew better than to pull out her sword and threaten the woman with it, but it was a difficult urge to resist.

Senera narrowed her eyes, and Xivan sneered at the judgment she could see there. When Senera didn’t answer, Xivan said, “Don’t play hypocrite with me. I know you’ve already had your revenge against all the people who ever wronged you as a child.”

“Yes,” Senera said dryly. “Now ask me what good it did. Ask me what it changed. Ask me how it made a damn thing better.”²

“Fuck you. Tell me where it is.”

Senera raised both eyebrows. She set the teacup aside, stood, and started to walk away.

“Senera!” Xivan shouted. “Name your price. Want me to go after Kihrin and reclaim the sword? Fine. Want me to vow my services to Relos Var? I’ll do that. Just tell me where it is.”

Senera whirled back. “What I want is for you to let this go, but you aren’t going to, are you?” She gestured toward the camp. “You have people who need you now. Talea needs you.”

“Fuck these people!” Xivan shouted, too angry to care that every single one of them could hear her. “Do you think I give a damn about my husband’s cast-off whores? They were nothing more than an amusing way to pass the time. Tell me who has the necklace, Senera!”

Senera’s mouth settled into a thin, unhappy line. Still judging. Xivan so badly wanted to smack her face into some other expression. “High Lady Lessoral of House D’Talus now owns the Stone of Shackles,” she finally said. “And you will never get it away from her.”

“You said it was easy—”

“I said it would be easy for Relos Var to take it from you,” Senera corrected. “High Lady D’Talus is in a different class.”³ She unfolded a piece of paper from her belt, held it up where it almost seemed to float for a moment, and then twisted a hand just so before punching forward. The markings glowed yellow and lifted off the paper, which crumbled to ash. A moment later, the glyphs expanded, circled in midair, and turned into the distinctive spiral quicksilver of a gate opening. Beyond was the silhouette of the Capital City.

Xivan narrowed her eyes. Relos Var had always been able to open gates instantly, but Relos Var was in the same league as literal gods. Senera had found a way to shortcut the process. When had that happened?⁴

Senera left—but the gate didn’t shut behind her.

The camp was cold and still and silent. No one said a word.

Until Bikeinoh⁵ said, “Hon, we can’t stay camped out here. The last storm was costly, and we’d do a lot better if we found a—”

Xivan rolled her eyes as she turned. “Weren’t you listening? Do whatever you like. I don’t care.”

More silence. Then a lot of women started talking at once.

“Be quiet!” Xivan screamed. “Get it through your thick skulls. I’m not one of you. I don’t like snow, I don’t like your land, and the only reason I was ever here was because of the man who ordered you all killed. Why would you ever think I was one of you?”

Talea shook her head. “Xivan, you don’t really mean—”

“I do,” Xivan said. “I really do mean that. I don’t give a fuck about a bunch of women who were more than happy to be passed around like chained dogs. You want to stay with these bitches? Help them take over Yor? Help them destroy Yor? I don’t really care. That’s your choice. But I’m going to the Capital.”

Talea’s expression was one of shock, surprise, and hurt—Xivan felt a flash of guilt, which she quickly shoved back down again. The Spurned had always been nothing more than a diversion, a way of reminding her husband how much she’d disapproved of his ridiculous, foolish harem. They’d meant nothing in and of themselves. Had they really thought she was going to gallivant around the countryside, quelling the local Yorans or starting a revolution against the empire?

Then they were naïve fools.

She’d almost reached the gate when Xivan turned back to Talea. “Are you coming or not?”

The look in Talea’s eyes was unreadable. She tucked the silver coin she’d been fiddling with away. “You know I’ll go wherever you do.”

“Then do so.” Xivan entered the gate.

The world changed.

Xivan’s reaction The Lighthouse at Shadrag Gor

Xivan shuddered and made a point of not looking at anyone else. Especially not looking at Talea. Or Janel. Or Senera.

Damn it all to Hell. She didn’t need to ask to know everyone had seen the same vision, the same memory. From her point of view.

“Fuck!” Teraeth screamed at the almost-blank wall. “Stop doing that!”

Xivan shuddered again. She didn’t know if the escaping god of annihilation was actually responsible for these visions, but it didn’t seem a huge jump to imagine it must all be connected.

“Well, I think that speaks for all of us.” Kalindra looked exhausted and terrified, although covering both with black humor.

“Everyone!” Janel said. “We can discuss the visions later. Teraeth, were does that hall lead?” She pointed at the passageway he’d taken earlier when searching for the music.

“Living spaces,” Teraeth answered, never taking his eyes from the fingers emerging from the stone. “It’s safe.”

“Then everyone go,” Janel said. “Out of this room, right now!”

To be fair, no one needed to be told. As soon as Teraeth answered the question, people started to move, all of them eager to be as far away from the hand emerging from the wall as possible, on principle if for no other reason.

Besides, other rooms might have things like fireplaces, blankets, and warm drinks. Xivan might have been incapable of catching a cold, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed being sopping wet.

The main Lighthouse tower had been thick, even stone with no visible seams. How it had been constructed could be lumped under the heading “magic” and then ignored. The rest of the Lighthouse was both structurally and materially different. Someone had built this addition to the Lighthouse more recently, using rough-hewn stone blocks fitted with mortar. The main Lighthouse tower seemed immune to age, but this area was looking its years.

Thurvishar took the lead; they raced through the rooms. First, a main hallway, likely the nexus of the entire manor house, numerous doors branching off to unknown locations. Then Thurvishar led them to a set of adjoining rooms: a kitchen and keeping room, probably meant as a servant gathering area while meals were sent out to wherever the dining room was located. Couches and chairs filled the area before the fireplace, enough to seat all of them.

Everyone stopped.

Thurvishar began using magic to dry everyone off. Of course he knew a spell for that.⁶ Xivan wasn’t going to complain. Who knew velvet could hold so much damn water? Once she was dry enough to not make sloshing noises with every step, she picked a spot against the wall and put her back to it. She looked down at her sword and grimaced. She’d sheathed it still covered in blood. Still covered in Talea’s blood.

And if the woman hadn’t so much as glanced at Xivan, she could hardly blame her.

But that wasn’t Xivan’s biggest problem, which was stunning in its simplicity: What next? Not just for her but for everyone. It’s not like they had any way to fight Vol Karoth. They’d run to another room in Shadrag Gor, but that only removed Vol Karoth from their sight. It did nothing to alleviate the danger.

Galen turned to everyone else. “Not a trick question or anything, but how do we stop this from being the room we die in?”

Kalindra snorted as though Galen must be an idiot for not knowing the obvious answer. “We leave. This is the part where we leave.” She gestured angrily at Senera, who seemed the obvious method for making that happen. She’d brought them all there, after all.

“We can’t,” Senera said woodenly. She sank down into one of the chairs.

“Of course we can,” Kalindra said. “Open another gate. It should be easy for you.”

Senera didn’t respond.

“Why can’t we leave?” Thurvishar asked Senera. “What happens if I try to open a gate right now?”

“It won’t work,” Senera said.

“I don’t believe you,” Kalindra snapped.

“I don’t care,” Senera responded. She still hadn’t looked at her. She hadn’t looked at anyone since they entered the room.

Qown made a low, panicked sound in the back of his throat. He was staring at Senera with wide eyes. Xivan didn’t know if this was general “Oh god, oh god, that was Vol Karoth in the other room” panic or some more specific sort of panic she didn’t yet understand.

“Qown, go make Senera some tea,” Xivan suggested. If nothing else, he needed the distraction.

Qown didn’t respond either.

“Qown!” Xivan repeated, louder.

The healer visibly jumped. “What? I…”

Talea tugged on the man’s sleeve. “Oh, would you? It would be so kind of you. I’d do it myself, but you always make it so much better than I do.”

Qown blinked. His gaze flickered from Xivan to Talea. “Uh … right. Yes. Of course. I’d … I’d be happy to.” He retreated to the kitchen, still visible from the keeping room, but now opening cabinets and looking through the supplies.

Janel crouched down next to Senera. “Come on, Senera. Tell us what you’ve done.” Her voice sounded suspiciously kind. From the way Senera’s eyes narrowed, she wasn’t falling for it any more than Xivan had.

“I told you what I’ve done,” Senera’s voice dripped acid, “or Talea did, anyway. So even if we could leave, and I will stress one more time that we can’t, anyone who somehow found a way isn’t going to be able to return in time to make any difference. The time dilation won’t allow it.”

Xivan felt her gut twist. Because she’d understood what Senera meant. She’d rarely if ever been to Shadrag Gor herself, but she knew why the Lighthouse was so famous. She knew that time ran faster inside its walls than it did outside. Much faster. Weeks might pass by here and only be minutes to the rest of the world. Gadrith D’Lorus has used that trick to prepare rituals before anyone had a chance to respond. Thaena had done the same when she’d attempted to sacrifice her son and, by proxy, the entire Manol nation. But this once, it wouldn’t work to the advantage of the tower’s guests.

“There’s no one to help us,” Senera continued. “We can’t leave and bring back help to deal with Vol Karoth. No one will reach us in time. It’s just us. If we don’t fix this, Vol Karoth escapes. We leave and we don’t prevent our deaths, we guarantee them. Because unless it takes Vol Karoth centuries to finish passing through that wall, this will all be over and done with before anyone else—including gods—can arrive.” The Doltari wizard looked as close to tears as Xivan had ever seen.

Janel swallowed visibly and closed her eyes.

Kalindra began cursing. Galen had a hand to his mouth as if he might be sick. And across the room, Teraeth didn’t move at all.

“And one more thing,” Senera snapped, “last I checked, I grabbed the lot of you in Devors while you were in the middle of being attacked by Drehemia the gods-damned shadow dragon. The last thing you should want to do is start the clock back up on that unholy mess before you’re ready to deal with it.”

“Oh, it’s quite worse than that,” Sheloran said, “but I suppose you weren’t there for long enough to notice the giant undead kraken and her army of mind-controlled soulless puppets.”

Senera stared. “No,” she finally said. “I missed that part.”

Footsteps echoed loudly from somewhere upstairs.

Everyone’s eyes drifted up toward the ceiling. The noise was unmistakably the sound of someone walking.

“You checked upstairs…?” Janel said to Teraeth.

“I’m telling you, no one’s here,” Teraeth said as he drew his knives.

“I’ll go look,” Xivan volunteered. “The rest of you stay here.” Talea started to say something, and Xivan knew that it was going to be some nonsense about not going alone. “What are they going to do,” she said to Talea, “kill me? I’ll shout if I get into trouble.” She drew her sword, which came free from its scabbard with a loud, satisfying, and wholly unrealistic ring. Xivan looked down at Talea’s gift scabbard in surprise. They’d lined the damn thing with ceramic, so her sword made a sound like it was being sharpened against a stone every time she drew it. Ridiculous.

She loved it.

Xivan appreciated the excuse to leave the suffocating room. At least everyone had been too scared of the damn shadow god to round on Xivan herself and demand explanations. That would come soon enough. Just as soon as everyone calmed down and stopped losing their damn minds.

The footsteps bothered her, though. For one, because Teraeth was thorough by habit. While no one was immune to being fooled by the occasional illusion, she didn’t expect that it happened to Teraeth often. But the other reason was because of that whole “time dilation” issue. The sheer odds of hitting Shadrag Gor at the same time it was already occupied verged into ludicrous.⁷ It sounded like Senera had come straight from the Lighthouse to grab them. That gave a would-be trespasser a window of seconds.

So Xivan took it seriously. She paused to wipe the blood off her sword using one of her outlandish lace sleeves and then started making her way upstairs. The halls were well lit thanks to centuries of wizards adding their own enchantments to the ever-present mage-lights, but she’d have preferred something with a real flame. The air was bitterly cold.

Xivan paused. She’d just “eaten” before arriving here. The ice of Hell itself shouldn’t have felt cold to her.

And yet … she was freezing.

She exhaled and watched as a puff of air made soft clouds in front of her. So the cold wasn’t just her imagination either.

Xivan kept going.

She searched every room. Many were plain, although she passed a number of bedrooms containing the most luxuriously ornate stonework she’d ever seen.⁸

All of them were empty.

Still, she felt … something. Xivan didn’t hear or see anything, but she had the same itch at the back of her neck she always felt when she was being watched. She didn’t feel alone.

She felt … in danger.

Xivan stopped in the upstairs hallway, her back to a wall, both hands on the hilt of her sword. Nothing moved. Nothing appeared. The hall was quiet.

Nothing.

Feeling foolish and jumpier than she’d felt in years, she returned to the others.

Her steps slowed as she approached the open doorway. Voices were raised, and it wasn’t difficult to hear what was being said.

Oh. Of course. They’d waited until Xivan was gone to talk about her.

“—how are you okay with what happened?” Galen’s voice, sounding so much like Kihrin for a moment that it made Xivan flinch. “Red, she stabbed Talea!”

“She was being magically controlled,” Talea explained. “A control that has now been broken. It worked!”

“And that bit about the Spurned?” Janel’s voice was so soft, Xivan almost didn’t hear it. “How letting me live was a mistake? Was that also because she was being magically controlled?”

Xivan squared her shoulders and walked into the room. “No. It wasn’t. I was just being a bitch.”

“You were in a bad place,” Talea said.

Xivan glared. “Don’t apologize for me, Talea. I’m a grown woman, and I’ll own my own mistakes, thank you. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done.” She sheathed her sword. “But you should know, I didn’t find anyone upstairs.” She gave Teraeth an acknowledging nod.

Teraeth paused from scowling at nothing. “How is that even possible?”

“I’ll say it again, sound illusions aren’t difficult,” Qown called out from where he was setting the tea to steep. “Maybe someone left them here to be triggered? As a bad joke?” He looked hopeful for such a mundane, if tasteless, explanation.

“Then why didn’t it trigger when I was here earlier?” Senera said.

“Maybe because you’re the one who’s doing this?” Kalindra snapped.

Janel said, “No. Not Senera’s style.”⁹

Kalindra looked willing to argue the point.

Xivan turned to Talea. “How did you break the Lash’s hold, anyway? I was being controlled by a Cornerstone. That’s not something you just casually block with a spell.”

“Oh, we, uh…” Talea gave her a sheepish, embarrassed smile.

“We used the Grail of Thaena,” Sheloran offered as though that was nothing of particular note. Didn’t everyone have one of those in the pantry?

Teraeth made a strangled noise. “That’s not a thing.”

“Yes, it is,” Kalindra said.

Teraeth raised an eyebrow at her. “Kalindra. No, it isn’t. The cup I used to use for the Maevanos ritual was just a cup. It had no special powers.”

“Sure, that cup didn’t, but the Grail exists.” Kalindra pointed at Xivan. “Either that or we just blocked the Lash’s control using the power of wishful thinking. But since I was the one who led these people to it, let’s just assume the Grail is real.” She smiled wryly. “What do you know? Turns out your mother didn’t tell you everything, Teraeth.”

“Wait, what? What exactly are you talking about?” Senera looked like she’d just eaten something sour.

“The Grail of Thaena?” Thurvishar had been quiet during the entire conversation, but at this, he raised his head and started to look interested. “How have I never heard of this before?”

“What does it do?” Senera asked. “How was it created?”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Janel whispered. “The wizards didn’t know something.”

Sheloran and Galen both looked helplessly at Kalindra. And Kalindra looked at … Talea.

What. Since when was Talea the expert on magical artifacts?

That embarrassed smile was back. “Ah … it was a secret?” Talea said. “And Tya made it. But really, that’s kind of not important right now.”

“Not important?” Senera stood up, vibrating with righteous anger. “We’re trapped here with an evil god, and you’re casually telling me we have a magical artifact with us that I didn’t even know existed! Why didn’t you say something? Does one of you have Urthaenriel while we’re confessing hidden weapons?”

“Calm down, Senera. Not where you need to be focusing your energy right now.” That comment came from the woman who looked like a Yoran Spurned, but who could not possibly be one. Xivan would have recognized her. She’d done a commendable job until that point of staying in the background, staying quiet. But Xivan hadn’t forgotten she’d arrived with Senera.

And if that vision of Senera’s was accurate, then the last person Senera had traveled with hadn’t been a person at all. Xivan would have been positive it was Talon except her advice to Senera had actually been helpful. In fact, it had sounded like—

It had sounded like something Kihrin might have said.

“Fine,” Senera grumbled.

Talea shrugged a shoulder. “I decided not to bring Urthaenriel. You know I don’t like carrying that thing.”

Thurvishar gave her a hard look.

“It’s fine,” Janel said, probably to reassure herself as much as anyone else. “We’ll assess what we’re working with and figure out a plan—”

The world changed.