“I AM HERE.” The thunderous voice erupted this time from Deglin.

They turned as one to face him. His body was straightened in an attitude Grandmother had never seen in him before. She did not recognize his eyes—they burned as molten coals. He raked them with an imperious glare.

“Finally, our time is congruent.” He laughed half hysterically, not at all like Deglin. He snapped off his laughter, looked around the grove, his face grave with disapproval. Then he speared Grandmother with his stare. “But you have failed me.” His words were quiet, but Grandmother’s knees turned fluid and folded. Cole caught her and helped ease her down so she did not crash to the ground and injure herself.

“My ... my lord, I’ve awakened the Sleepers.”

“You allowed most of them to escape through time.”

Grandmother did not understand the statement, but something niggled in the back of her mind. The dream, maybe.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“You do not know?” she asked. How could God not know?

His gaze lost focus and He appeared to look inward, then He nodded to Himself. “This one has told me all that I need to know.” He must mean Deglin. He gazed at Grandmother once again, but this time His assessment was more approving. “You work against the Sacor Clans in my name to return the empire to its glory.”

“Yes, my lord. It is what I live for.”

“Then you shall return across the wall to continue your work. I shall see that you have safe passage through this land.” Sweat streamed down the face that was Deglin’s, his cheeks flushed.

“What of you, my lord?”

“The others are still here. There is one among them whose taste I know. They will not receive safe passage.” He gave her a grim smile, Deglin’s flesh turning redder as if he were burning up.

Grandmother knew her God was not a gentle God, but she had never feared Him before. She did now. Sarat had wilted to the ground sobbing, and Min and Cole kept their heads bowed, eyes averted.

Lala watched him curiously, and then like a miracle, she opened her mouth and a clear bright note came singing out of her. Everyone stared aghast at her, even God. The note rose up and up into the mist and limbs of the great trees, the voice of an angel.

God laughed again and strode over to Lala, steam rising from Deglin’s body, and He placed His hand on her shoulder. “This little one has some power in her. Teach her well.”

“I will, my lord,” Grandmother replied, stunned by how well the spell of the redbird had worked. Perhaps the presence of God had enhanced Lala’s new, glorious voice. She concentrated for a moment, directed her thoughts toward the wall, but heard no music there; felt only consternation and grief.

“I must go now,” God said.

“I love you,” Lala sang out.

God patted her on the head, then Deglin’s body slipped limply to the ground like a shed skin. Wind gusted once again through the grove. Grandmother crawled over to Deglin, but found no life in him, though his flesh burned so hot that she could only conclude that God’s presence must have boiled him from the inside out.

Lala sang a dirge that broke them all down to weeping. They held each other, comforting one another in a strange combination of grief and joy. It was a day of loss, and a day of miracles. God had walked among them, and Lala sang with an angel’s voice!

Grandmother assumed that the others God had mentioned were only going to know His wrath. She smiled through her tears, holding Lala close.

THE CHOSEN MASK

The companions set off through the spiraling ways of Castle Argenthyne. The Eletians, with Lynx, had sealed off the grove entrance and blocked the corridor linking to the chamber with the moondial to stop, or at least slow down, any pursuit by the remaining Sleepers. After considering their options, Ealdaen decided their best route of escape would be through the castle, traveling inward to its core, then turning outward and westward to the spiral of the castle that loomed over the lake they’d seen from the forest, the Pool of Avrath.

From there, Ealdaen explained, they could travel north and retrace their way along the trail they’d used to get here.

The Eletians maintained a severe pace. Yates and Lynx took turns supporting Karigan as she hopped and limped along, but invariably she and whoever was helping her fell behind. Now and then Telagioth or Lhean would trot back to see how they were faring.

Around and around they went, only to enter counter curves, circling in new directions. The architecture was impossible. Were they getting anywhere?

“This castle is making me dizzy,” Yates muttered more than once.

They passed through numerous chambers, but never paused to look. Karigan perceived fleeting impressions of flowing sculptures, dry fountains, clusters of furniture, but it all ran together. Sometimes they skirted clumps of bone and fabric and broken weaponry on the floor. The walls retained their inner glow, though they’d grown more dusky, perhaps with the advent of night, or because Laurelyn was truly gone.

Karigan started stumbling so much that both Lynx and Yates needed to support her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her mind felt numb, but the pain of her leg burned intensely.

“You need rest,” Lynx said. “We all do, but Ealdaen fears the remaining Sleepers will regain entry to the castle either at the grove or somewhere else and come after us.”

“Seems safer in here than out in the forest,” Yates said.

But as they entered another chamber, they found the Eletians waiting for them, and it was a good thing for Karigan’s legs gave out altogether—she could no longer make them support her weight. Lynx and Yates lowered her to the floor, and Lynx placed his pack behind her so she’d have something to lean against.