Gabriel laid a hand on Jonmarc's shoulder. "We'd best return to the feast and let the guests know Carina is resting. Mention how hard she's been working with all of the patients who have come to see her. Perhaps that will keep too many stories from spreading."

Jonmarc leaned down to kiss Carina on the forehead. "I'll be back to check in on you later. Now as you're so fond of telling me, get some rest."

Carina smiled and leaned back against the pillows. "You have the makings of a great healer."

The door closed behind Jonmarc and Gabriel before Lisette spoke. "Here's something odd, m'lady." Lisette held a book in her hands. The leather binding was cracked and broken and the pages yellowed. "This book was open on the table when we came in, but it wasn't there when we left. It's a record of the families of the Lords of Dark Haven. Births, feast days, marriages, deaths. Look here," she said. Carina followed Lisette's finger. The cramped handwriting was faded with time, but she could make out the inscription.

"Raen, daughter of Lord Brentig, died in the great plague on the twenty-first day of the Crone Moon," Carina read. "Raen, is that the name of the ghost?"

"She was watching from the shadows when Lord Jonmarc carried you up here. She didn't leave until you came around. That name seems familiar." Lisette frowned and went to the bookshelves. She returned with a thin leather-bound journal. "I picked this up a few days ago—it had fallen on the floor. I thought it an accident at the time, but now, I'm not so sure." The journal was filled with neat, feminine handwriting. The name "Raen Brentig" was centered on the page, and a date.

"That's about a year before the last great plague struck."

Carina gently touched the page. "It's almost as if she wants us to know her," she said. Lisette removed the pillows from behind her so she could lie flat. "I seem to have made a friend."

Carina pulled the covers up around herself, handling the book carefully. "Has it always been the custom for the noble daughters in Principality to read and write?"

"It was fairly common when I was mortal," Lisette said. "I didn't know Raen, but she would have been alive close to the time I was brought across. A large manor is as complicated to run as any trade. A smart man wanted an educated wife to help keep the accounts."

Carina found herself drawn into the entries in the journal. Most were notes about the ups and downs of a young woman's life, with comments about parties and invitations and young men who caught Raen's eye. The lavender is blooming in the garden now. I'll have to take some for a fresh sachet. The ball is only a fortnight away. Carina turned the page. Another entry, dated just a few days after the first. Not feeling well. Hope this passes by the ball. The rest of the pages were blank. Carina set the journal aside, lost in thought.

"Lord Jonmarc was right, m'lady. You must rest. Fear nothing. I'll watch until dawn."

Carina let herself sink into the mattress, warmed by the down comforter, her mind still on the journal and its sudden end. In the distance as she dreamed, she could hear Raen singing to her.

When Carina awoke, the first light of dawn was streaming through her windows. She lingered for a moment beneath the warm covers. Jonmarc had already left for the day's tasks, and Lisette had gone to rest. Few of the mortal servants were stirring. Dark Haven was quiet.

As Carina belted her healer's robe over her dress, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Raen stood in the shadows.

"Hello," Carina greeted the ghost girl. "Thank you for your song last night."

Raen moved toward the windows. The fire had warmed the room enough to fog the glass. As Carina watched, letters traced themselves in the fog. "Come."

Carina looked at Raen, perplexed. "Come where? Why?"

Another word formed as an invisible finger traced the letters. "Heal."

"You want me to heal someone? One of the ghosts?" Carina shook her head. "I don't know if it will work—I'm still not sure how I did what I did for you." More letters appeared. "Hurt." "All right. Let me gather my things— although if it's a ghost who needs my help, they won't be of much use."

Carina collected her pouches and opened the door. The corridor was empty. Raen glided out of the room and into the darkened hallway, visible as a green glow. Torches lit their way. Carina followed Raen down the back staircase to the second landing. The ghost halted at a door. "Those rooms haven't been restored," Carina said. "No one lives there now."

Raen glided through the closed wooden door. Carina reached for the nearest torch and took it down from the sconce on the wall. No footprints except for the scrabbling of mice marked the dust-covered floor. It was cold, and Carina shivered. "How far?"

Raen beckoned for her to follow. They passed a row of long-abandoned bedrooms. The corridor smelled musty, as if water had gotten in. At the end of the hallway a stairway descended into darkness.

"This is the East wing, isn't it?" Carina said, looking from the ghost to the dark stairs. "It's dangerous down there—Jonmarc said that's where the walls collapsed when the orb was stolen."

Raen reached out an insubstantial hand to lead the way. Carina pulled back. "We should wait. I don't think this is a good idea."

Raen moved back into the hallway, where a thin shaft of light struggled through a dirty window. The dust on the floor began to move. This time, the ghost drew a bare-limbed tree, and beneath it, one word. "Understand."

Carina looked at Raen. "The power that touched me last night, the presence that's making it hard for me to heal—that's what you want me to understand?" Raen nodded.

Carina weighed her fear against the frustration of her gradually waning power. "Can I reach the bottom safely? You can go through solid rock, but I can't."

Raen moved toward the door. As they started down the stairs, Raen's form began to glow, adding to the torchlight in the lightless stairway. From the cramped turns and narrow tread, Carina guessed that it was a servant's passageway. She grimaced as cobwebs brushed her face. No one but the spirits had passed this way in many years. Carina counted the steps as they descended, making note of the landings. They kept going, as the stairway grew colder and the air damp. Carina was quite sure they were beneath the ground. Finally, they stopped in an antechamber. By the torchlight, Carina could see that deep cracks ran through the stone walls. Through the next archway, the darkness was broken by a silver glow. Carefully picking her way through bits of fallen rock, Carina realized that the archway was the opening to a natural cave.

Raen walked beside her as Carina crossed through the archway. Inside the cave, large pieces of rock littered the pathway. The walls glistened with crystals, and in the distance, Carina could hear falling water. A doorway on the opposite side of the chamber had collapsed. Coruscating light filled the cave, surrounding them with an evanescent glow.

Once before, during an Eastmark winter, Carina had glimpsed the Spirit Lights in the cold night sky. The ribbon of colored light glistened yellow and green, painted in bold strokes across the darkness. Like the Spirit Lights, the glow that filled the cave changed colors, as if the air were filled with diamond dust. The walls shone as the light hit crystals, reflecting in millions of tiny facets.

Carina could sense the power around her like a thunderstorm overhead. This is the Flow.

The glow became brighter, its colors began to shift. Gone were the tranquil shades of yellow and green. Deep pink and fiery red came over the glow as if reflecting a vivid sunset. At the same time, Carina felt power reaching out for her. New images filled her mind. She felt the rending of the Flow as a shock to the heart, gasping for breath as pain seared through her, seeing in her mind Arontala wresting the Orb from its pedestal in a glare of blue mage fire. Images of dark magic pressed into her mind as she saw Arontala and his mages bind the damaged Flow to work their blood spells. Distantly, Carina could hear her own screams echoing from the rock walls as she witnessed the abominations of blood magic that Arontala had worked in the dungeons beneath Shekerishet.