Lumiere stood beside the cot with her hands folded.

  The man tied to it thrashed weakly against the leather straps as she began the prayer. His wrists were rubbed raw where he had already struggled for too long. A cloth covered his eyes, wrapped twice around his head and knotted at the back to keep him from cwing at them again.

  Even through the bandage, tears had soaked the fabric dark.

  "—and may the light of the Goddess receive the suffering of her servant," Lumiere finished quietly.

  The man's breathing came ragged and fast.

  "I see it," he whispered hoarsely. "I see it now. Even without sight, I see it clearer than ever."

  His head rolled toward her voice, blind eyes hidden beneath the cloth.

  "Closer," he said. "I am closer to Her than I have ever been."

  Lumiere lowered her hands slowly.

  The words were not new. Over the past day she had heard some variation of them from dozens of injured men. The infection coursing through their veins had done strange things to their minds. For some, it induced fear. For others, rapture. The body broke while the spirit insisted it had been elevated.

  She did not contradict him.

  Instead she reached down and adjusted the cloth gently where it pressed against his temples.

  "Rest, child," she said.

  The man smiled in a way that made her chest tighten.

  Lumiere stepped away from the cot.

  The improvised infirmary filled most of the lower hall now. Cots lined the walls and stretched down the center in uneven rows. Priests moved between them with bowls of water, poultices, and clean cloths.

  With some of the injured, she had taken the opportunity to administer Cire's antidote.

  A small vial pressed discreetly into a cup of water. A quiet suggestion that it might help stabilize their breathing.

  A few had accepted it.

  The majority had not. They had already destroyed their doses earlier in a show of solidarity and faith.

  Lumiere grimaced.

  Faith could be beautiful. It could also be catastrophically stubborn.

  She folded her hands again and bowed her head briefly.

  "Goddess," she murmured, voice barely above the noise of the hall, "watch over Cire as well."

  Evelyn had spoken with calm certainty earlier. If Cire had survived the initial fall, her chances were not terrible.

  Water would not be a problem. The entire fortress sat atop a massive aquifer.

  'And Cire's clever,' she'd said. 'She will definitely have things figured out.'

  Lumiere allowed herself to cling to that. They all did.

  As soon as Rocher could move, he had insisted on joining the search.

  The gash across his back had been deep enough that Lumiere had expected him to remain on a cot for the rest of the day at minimum. When she warned him the wound would leave an ugly scar if he tested it too soon, he'd simply shrugged.

  'It will be one of many,' he had said.

  Cire's well-being took priority.

  Evelyn had gone with him, of course. Seraphine as well. The search parties had begun combing the lower aquifer channels and the surrounding tunnels with nterns and Holy Light.

  Lumiere turned away from the blinded padin's cot.

  Two other padins stepped immediately into the space she had just vacated.

  Without a word between them, one drew a knife and sliced through the straps binding the man's wrists.

  Lumiere stopped.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  The two men looked up at her at once. Both inclined their heads respectfully.

  "Saintess," one greeted. "We have just received orders from Bishop Halbrecht."

  He helped the blinded padin sit up.

  "Orders?" Lumiere's brows knit. "What orders?"

  "By his command," the second man said, "all are to assemble at the Forge."

  "The Forge," Lumiere repeated.

  The man nodded.

  "He says he has brokered an agreement with the Mountain Guardian."

  Lumiere stared at him.

  "A solution to our current predicament," the padin said.

  "Do you know the terms of that deal?"

  Both men shook their heads. "We were only told to gather."

  Lumiere turned slowly.

  Across the hall, simir scenes were unfolding.

  Padins were helping injured men sit up. Others lifted cots.

  Those who could walk were being supported between two sets of shoulders. Those who could not were being moved.

  Her eyes nded on the far end of the hall.

  Danzig y on a reinforced cot there, still unmoving, his chest rising in the slow rhythm of someone far removed from the waking world. Eight men surrounded his cot and lifted it carefully.

  Lumiere bit her lip.

  Seraphine, Rocher, Evelyn. And the rest of search party. Quite a few priests and padins were still down in the tunnels combing the aquifer passages.

  If Halbrecht gathered the entire force now, they might return to find the fortress empty.

  Lumiere reached for a scrap of parchment from a nearby table and scribbled a quick note.

  To the search teams: Halbrecht has called his faithful to the Forge. Continue your search but exercise caution.

  She folded it and pressed it into the hands of a passing acolyte.

  "Go. If you find any of the search parties, give this to them."

  The acolyte nodded and hurried off.

  Lumiere smoothed her robe and fell in step behind the column of padins as they began moving toward the fortress gate, spilling out to the main road.

  The Forge.

  If Halbrecht truly believed he had negotiated with the Mountain Guardian, the implications were difficult to predict.

  Lumiere hoped, fervently, that Cire would be present when the truth revealed itself.

  Rocher pulled himself up another handhold and swung his foot onto a narrow ledge.

  The rock wall rose steeply above the aquifer channel, a jagged seam where ancient stone had split and shifted long ago. Moisture slicked the surfaces. Thin threads of water trickled down the grooves.

  "How are you holding up back there?" he asked.

  Francine clung to his back like a frightened cat.

  Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and one hand held a steady globe of Holy Light above them so Rocher could keep both hands on the stone.

  She whimpered in response.

  Rocher gnced over his shoulder.

  They were a mere fifteen feet above the silt channel below.

  Seraphine drifted past them, stepping through the air. Pulseweaver hovered beside her shoulder, casting its familiar blue light down into the passage.

  She paused beside them.

  "If you were so afraid of heights, why did you volunteer to come?" Seraphine asked.

  Francine's grip tightened slightly. "I just thought it would be a shame if the kingdom lost someone like Miss Cire."

  Seraphine's brow lifted.

  Before she could reply, another figure appeared beside Rocher.

  Francine yelped.

  Evelyn leaned against the rock wall next to him. "How patriotic of you."

  Rocher nearly lost his grip.

  "Evelyn," he said.

  She grinned. "Sorry. Did I startle you?"

  Francine's face had turned bright red.

  "Hm." Evelyn tilted her head. "Is that the only reason you came?"

  Francine's blush deepened.

  Rocher looked between them. "What does that mean?"

  "Nothing." Evelyn waved a hand dismissively. "Just that you're in for a world of hurt once we find Cire and she sees you like this."

  Rocher frowned. "I'm being very careful with my injury."

  She gnced at the bandage wrapped across Rocher's back, and ughed. "That's not what I'm talking about."

  Seraphine's voice suddenly echoed.

  "Light," she called. "Over here."

  Francine adjusted the glow instinctively. The beam washed across the silt channel below.

  Something glinted in the sediment.

  Rocher leaned forward.

  Fragments.

  Bent ptes. Small articuted pieces half-submerged in the silt.

  His stomach dropped. "Phymera."

  Without thinking he pushed off the wall.

  Francine screamed.

  Before Rocher could drop more than a few feet, the air around him snapped tight.

  Seraphine's hand clenched.

  Rocher smmed sideways into the rock wall with a dull thud.

  "What are you doing?" she snapped.

  Rocher struggled against the invisible force. "Cire could be down there!"

  Seraphine stared at him. "And how exactly would drowning in quicksand help her?"

  Rocher opened his mouth. Closed it again.

  Seraphine released him.

  He sagged against the wall, breathing hard.

  She extended one hand toward the silt channel below.

  The air shimmered. A low vibration rolled through the sediment.

  Slowly, pieces of metal began to rise.

  More fragments. More sections of Phymera's broken body.

  But nothing else.

  No blood.

  No body.

  Rocher let out a shaky exhale.

  Then his eyes caught on something small and tangled among the floating debris.

  A strip of cloth.

  He reached down and plucked it from the water when the sediment settled again.

  A ribbon.

  One of Cire's.

  He held it up to the light.

  Evelyn studied it for a moment, then said slowly, "Cire might not be here anymore..."

  Rocher looked at her.

  She met his eyes and nodded. "But she definitely passed through here."

  Rocher closed his hand around the ribbon.

  Then he turned and continued along the wall with renewed determination.