It left a nasty acidic taste burning in her mouth. She spat some of it away, but for the time being would have to tolerate the rest. Because she had another vile sensation to deal with-or maybe just the memory of one. But whatever it was, it was even more repugnant.

She poured water from the pitcher into the basin, then focused her will on it. It steamed as it grew hot. Then she rubbed soap onto a brush meant for cleaning fingernails and scrubbed her hand till it was raw.

When it was finally enough, and her feeling of violation subsided, she took a bottle of wine from the cabinet and rattled off a cantrip. Magic popped the cork out of the neck. She used the first mouthful of something red and sweet to rinse her mouth, spat it in the spattered and stinking commode, then flopped down in a chair and took a long pull.

She wanted to drink until her memories of the evening grew dim and meaningless. It had disgusted her to play the weak, helpless, pleading damsel, especially since the lie was built around a core of truth. She was freakish and broken, even if it was beyond Tchazzar’s power to mend her.

He’d keep trying though, since she’d opened the door. He’d paw her whenever he could, and how was she supposed to bear it?

She couldn’t imagine. But the ploy had been the only one she could think of to lower the red dragon’s defenses and cozen him into telling her what she needed to hear.

As she’d promised she would when Aoth had asked her in his apartments the night before. Even though he’d asked in a diffident manner quite unlike the man she knew.

“I don’t know if it’s right,” he’d said. “I’ve always believed that ‘right’ is honoring your contracts. I don’t know if it’s prudent. I’ve always thought that prudence is not sticking your nose into things that are none of your business. I definitely don’t know if it’s right and prudent for you. You’re on your way to a splendid life in the country of your birth. All I can offer is more of the same mud, blood-”

Perhaps it was his guilt, and the affection that underlay it, that abruptly made all other loyalties seem inconsequential. At any rate, she’d lifted her hand to silence him. “Stop. Please stop. I’ll do it whatever it is, if only to stop you blathering.”

And since she had, and since it had worked, she supposed she mustn’t drink herself into a stupor after all. She needed to work on what Tchazzar had given her. She set the bottle on the floor and snapped her fingers. Her staff leaped from the corner into her hand.

Though Gaedynn had never admitted it, he occasionally found Aoth’s augmented vision annoying. Like now, for example. Gaedynn was supposed to be the master scout, but it was the war-mage-with plump, pretty Cera riding behind him-who sent his griffon swooping toward a particular barren crag. Presumably because he’d spotted the cave mouth they were seeking.

Eider followed Jet down, and then Gaedynn saw it too, not that there was much to see. Just a crack in the sloping granite. But at least it had a ledge in front of it big enough for griffons to set down on.

The riders dismounted, and Cera somewhat awkwardly adjusted the round shield on her arm. She was game and sharp, but no trained soldier, and Gaedynn wondered if Aoth had been wise to bring her.

Maybe not, but then again if any of them were truly wise, no one would have embarked on this secret expedition.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Gaedynn asked. He squatted to examine the ledge more closely. “I don’t see any claw marks or other signs that a dragon’s been here recently.”

“No,” Aoth admitted. “But Jhesrhi got Tchazzar talking, and he told her he hid Alasklerbanbastos’s phylactery where no one would ever find it. He also told her stories involving an old secret refuge he had in the Smoking Mountains. Afterward, she skimmed some of the histories archived in the War College and performed a divination, all in an effort to figure out where the place was. And this is the location, give or take.”

Gaedynn straightened up. “Well, we might as well go in and look around. And if we don’t find anything, we can probably count ourselves lucky.”

Cera peered at him. “But you won’t feel that way.”

He smiled. “No, sunlady, I confess I won’t.”

Aoth looked at Jet. “I don’t think you and Eider can squeeze through that narrow gap.”

“No,” the black griffon rasped.

The Thayan turned to Cera. “That makes it even more important that you stick close to me and do anything I tell you to.”

She grinned. “So you want a repeat of last night.” Aoth scowled. “All right, I understand!”

Gaedynn laid an arrow on his bow. “Perhaps you could kindle a light to help us on our way. And then, with this sour old codger’s permission, I’ll go first.”

Cera recited a prayer and swung her gilt mace through an arc that mimicked Amaunator’s daily transit across the sky. Gaedynn couldn’t see the results until they entered the cave. But then it became apparent that she’d cloaked herself in a warm golden glow that pushed back the dark for a stone’s throw in every direction.

Gradually the way widened until several people could walk abreast. The ceiling lifted away from their heads until Gaedynn would have needed to rise on tiptoe to touch it. He watched for movement at the point where Cera’s light failed, and for sign on the floor. He listened and sniffed the air. And detected nothing but stone and darkness.

Then Aoth rapped, “Stop!”

His nerves jangling, Gaedynn froze. “What is it?”

“If you take another step, the ceiling will fall on you. I can see the cracks running through the granite, along with a flicker of magical force.”

Gaedynn took a breath. “In its way, that’s helpful. It tells us this really is Tchazzar’s secret hiding place, and at least suggests he’s hiding something here now. Still, it would have been nice if those miraculous eyes of your had noticed the cracks a little sooner.”

“Sorry. They’re very tiny cracks, and it’s a very faint flicker. If it makes you feel any better, there’s a chance that if the ceiling comes down, it will crush Cera and me too.”

“That is comforting. But on the whole, I think I prefer that we all remain unsquashed. What should I do, back up?”

“No. It’s like you’re at the center of a spiderweb that sprang into being around you. You’ll break a strand whichever way you step.”

“That’s … inconvenient.”

“I can try to dissolve the enchantment,” Cera said, with only the slightest quaver in her voice.

“I know,” said Aoth. “But do you think you can channel enough power to outmatch Tchazzar?”

Cera frowned. “Perhaps not.”

“Then maybe we should try another way. When he set this trap, Tchazzar wrote runes on the ceiling with a wand or his fingertip. I can see those too, and I think they contain the phrase that allows safe passage.”

“You ‘think,’ ” Gaedynn said.

“Yes,” said Aoth, “and I think I can pronounce them correctly too, even though Aragrakh isn’t my best language.”

“Then take your shot,” Gaedynn said.

Aoth raised his spear over his head and held it parallel to the floor. The point glowed red, like it had just come from the forge. He hissed sibilant words that filled the air with a dry reptilian smell, as though a wyrm were lurking just a pace or two away.

The cracks in the ceiling became visible as they too flared with crimson light. Despite himself, Gaedynn tensed. But then the glow simply faded away.

“It’s safe now,” said Aoth.

Gaedynn grinned. “Of course it is. I never doubted you for an instant.”

They prowled onward. Until Aoth called for another halt.

“What is it this time?” Gaedynn asked. “Am I about to burst into flame?”

“No,” said Aoth. “Or at least I don’t think it’s another snare. But there’s something just ahead of you. Tchazzar dug into the floor, then fused the broken stone back together.”