"You must be joking!" Leesil said.

"It will not be comfortable," Sgaile warned. "But we will survive."

With that, he stepped past Chap into the tunnel.

Chap followed, and the hot stone under his pads grew more unpleasant with each step. He heard Leesil behind as Magiere came up on his left. She looked weak and faint. Her dhampir nature worked well for her in the cold, but it did not seem to help in this scorching place.

"You've been down here before?" Magiere rasped.

Sgaile shook his head. "Only as far as the doors, once… with my past teacher, before I received his assent to take up full service to my people."

Both Leesil and Sgaile slowly adapted, though their faces began to run with sweat. Magiere panted, trying to bear the heat and keep up. Chap stayed close to her as Sgaile worked his way along the uneven passage. It narrowed suddenly at the top of a carved stone stairway.

A dim red-orange glow from below barely illuminated the close walls. Sgaile set aside his torch. The light increased slightly as they descended, as did the heat in the air. They went down for a long while, stopping once for water. Leesil poured some into a tin cup he always carried for Chap, but the water had grown so warm it offered little relief.

Chap kept a close watch on Magiere, though she stayed on her feet. He reached inside her mind and called up memories of their journey through the Blade Range… of snow and freezing wind. She frowned, but this time did not snarl at him to get out of her head. Instead, she put her hand on his back.

"You all right?" Leesil asked her.

"Keep going," she rasped.

Just when Chap thought their descent might never end, Sgaile stepped down onto a landing. Chap peered around the elf's legs through a rough opening in the mountain's rock. Through it, orange-red light brightened slightly, and the opening seemed like the mouth of a dwindling hearth in a dim room.

Chap stepped through and halted at the sight before him.

A wide plateau ran a gradual slant away from the stairway's portal. At its distant edge, red light erupted out of a massive fissure in the mountain's belly, like a gash wider than a river. Smoke drifted up into glowing red air from deep in the earth.

"Wait… here…," Sgaile breathed with great effort.

He advanced with slow and heavy steps but went less than halfway to the plateau's edge. He stopped, digging beneath his tunic, and drew something out.

"What's he doing?" Leesil whispered.

Sgaile cocked his arm and heaved. A small dark object arced out and over the plateau's lip to vanish into the fissure. Chap had seen this object in Sgaile's flickering memories-a smooth basalt stone etched with curving lines, sharp strokes, and dots. Sgaile returned but stopped to rest, hunched over with his hands braced upon his knees. He blinked against the sweat running down his forehead.

"Now we wait," he said.

Leesil stumbled closer. "How long? For what?"

Sgaile only shook his head.

They stood there so long that Chap wanted to collapse from the heat. But he feared he might not rise again. Then he heard a soft scraping.

Like metal upon stone, it carried faintly across the half-cavern plateau. Chap looked out beyond Leesil, searching. The plateau's edge was a dark silhouette against the gorge's burning light.

A tiny part of that dark jagged line bulged and moved.

Leesil desperately wanted out of this place, and even more so when he glanced at Magiere.

Eyes half-closed, she gasped for air, and she hardly perspired at all- which was a bad sign. And Chap appeared about to drop with all four legs quaking.

Leesil was furious with himself for ever agreeing to let Sgaile bring them here. Whatever Brot'an and his mother wanted didn't matter anymore. He took a step toward Magiere.

In the stillness, a faint scrape carried along the walls, like a blade scratching stone. Chap lifted his head to stare, and Leesil swung about, hands fumbling for his winged blades.

His gaze lighted first upon Sgaile, who held no weapons but straightened with an effort and looked off toward the glowing fissure's right end.

"Sgaile?" Leesil said.

"Keep… your weapons… sheathed," Sgaile managed to say.

Magiere stumbled in next to Leesil, hand on her falchion's hilt.

A bulge grew at the precipice's edge, taking form in movement.

At first it was no more than a rippling smudge backlit by red-orange air. Small and blacker than the stone, it crawled up onto the plateau from out of the red depths. Leesil barely made out a pair of thin, spindly arms as it crept forward, dragging something behind.

Its size was difficult to gauge, but by the way the little black shadow hunkered, Leesil guessed it wouldn't be much taller than Chap, if it stood up. And then twin horizontal slits opened in its blotch of a head.

Two eyes, like white-hot coals in the dark, fixed on Leesil.

It crawled a little farther, dragging the bulk of a sack half its size. The charcoal-colored woolly baggage shimmered as if laced with fibers of black metal or glass. Thin smoke rose from the bundle to dissipate in the gorge's heat-rippled air.

"What is-?" Magiere began.

"Chein'as," Sgaile cut in. "The Burning Ones."

But there was only one, and the little thing fumbled with its sack. It paused, turning searing eyes upslope, and a small maw opened beneath them.

A grinding shriek erupted across the stone plateau.

Leesil cringed as the sound pierced his ears. His skull and bones seemed to vibrate sharply in his flesh.

"Go!" Sgaile ordered, hands pressed over his ears. "Whatever it has… is for you, Leshil."

Chap rumbled and took a few shaky steps forward, and Magiere clutched at Leesil's arm.

"It's all right," he whispered, peeling off her fingers.

Magiere trembled but didn't try to grab him again.

Leesil crept down the plateau, closing on the black little thing with lantern eyes. As he drew nearer, its form became clearer.

No larger than a naked child of six or seven years, it squatted there with its scrawny arms and legs folded. The whole of its body was covered in ebony-toned leathery skin. Thin digits sprouting from splayed hands ended in short obsidian claws. Its oversized head was featureless except for the slit mouth, the vertical cuts of small nostrils, and its glowing eyes. Instead of ears, it bore two small depressions on the sides of its skull.

Leesil was still well beyond reach when it began to shiver.

It cringed away from him, clutching itself like a deformed and naked child caught in a frigid winter wind. The closer Leesil tried to get, the more the little thing quivered-as if he were the source of cold. Leesil stopped and crouched, waiting.

With a shudder, it uttered a soft hiss like water thrown on a griddle. Both of its clawed hands reached into the charcoal-colored bag, and Leesil caught a glint of metal inside turning red in the fissure's light. The little one chucked two long pieces of curved metal across the plateau floor.

Leesil quickly scooted back as they clanged across the stone before him. Focusing sharply as the objects settled, he stared in shock.

Twin winged blades lay in the dark before him, so much like the ones he carried strapped to his thighs. A matched set, mirrored opposites but alike in make.

His own blades had been assembled by a master weaponer in Bela, made from sketches he'd drawn himself. But these were not steel. Even in the dark and the chasm's unnatural light, they shimmered too cleanly. They glinted like silver mirrors-like the sheer perfect doors to this cavern-like the stilettos of the Anmaglahk.

Their wings would stretch down the outside of his forearms, but unlike his, these turned slightly outward at the back end, slender and graceful. The spades extending in front of their grips were thin and fiercely pointed, perhaps slightly longer than his own.