“Perhaps we should douse the hinges?” Loren asked.

Before Quain could move, I said, “Wait.” The door’s hinges were visible. “Belen, try pulling on the handle.”

He grasped the heavy latch. With a screech of metal, the door opened, revealing a staircase that descended into blackness. A musty odor with a hint of decay wafted from below followed by a faint rustling sound. Rats? Or the wind?

We all peered into the darkness.

“We’re going to need torches,” Belen said.

“Maybe there are some hanging just inside,” I said.

Quain walked down the first few steps. “Hooks are here, but no torches.”

Loren and Belen went in search of materials, while Quain and I waited. The winds died. Soon after, fat flakes of snow drifted down.

“I thought you said it would be a howler,” I said.

“It will. First the storm dumps piles of snow, and then the winds come, blowing all that white stuff into drifts and creating more problems. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fun for the storm if the winds came first. Nothing for it to swirl around.”

“I don’t think the storm cares.”

“Probably not a normal storm.”

I searched Quain’s face to see if he teased. “Aren’t they all normal?”

“No. Some are influenced by air magicians to do more damage than they would on their own.”

“Do you think Jael sent this storm?”

“She killed Flea and tried to kill us. This could be another attempt.”

I shivered at the memory.

Quain focused on me. “We need to talk about what happened with Flea.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been replaying Jael’s attack and the aftermath in my mind, thinking of nothing else. Why did you yell for Kerrick to help you with healing him? And how did Kerrick know the exact location of a Death Lily?” Quain started making more connections. “In fact, all those months we hiked through the woods, we’ve never encountered a single Lily. Except for that village. What’s going on, Avry?”

His questions were inevitable. “You’ll have to ask Kerrick.”

“Why?”

“It’s not my story to tell.” I used Belen’s line.

Loren and Belen returned in time to see Quain scowling at me.

“What’s the problem?” Loren asked.

I answered before Quain could. “We can discuss it when we’re stuck in some cave for days because of the storm.”

Belen brushed the snow from his hair. “We’d better hurry.” He handed out torches and Loren lit them with his flint.

We descended the dust-covered steps. It spiraled down for two, maybe three stories before the walls opened up, revealing a storage room. Rows of shelves lined the floor. The shelves had been filled with wooden crates. A list of each box’s contents had been burned into the outside wood.

I read the titles as we walked between them.

Dissection notes on twenty-two-year-old female—cause of death: childbirth.

Dune grass seeds from Bavly Realm.

Results of Apgull Poison test.

Maps of known Red Tiger trees.

As we continued, it became apparent that the room was huge. We hadn’t reached another wall, and the shelves disappeared into the darkness.

“We found the secret record room. Now what?” Belen asked.

“I was hoping to find some information that could be useful,” I said.

“You don’t think the ‘contents of an ufa’s stomach’ is useful?” Loren asked.

“Only if the report lists what killed the ufa.” As we neared the foothills, ufa packs would become another danger.

“We could split up,” Belen suggested. “Cover more ground. What would be useful, Avry?”

“Anything that mentions medicinal plants or herbs.” I hesitated, but decided to throw it out there. “Or mentions the plague.”

Silence, then Belen said, “Okay, everyone take a row.”

After a few minutes, I realized we would need days to go through the entire room. And it might take that long just to find valuable information. Perhaps after the storm we could come back. If the door wasn’t buried beneath a snowdrift.

I scanned crates until my vision blurred. My torch sputtered a warning. It wouldn’t last long. Besides, it seemed we had been down here a long time and Kerrick still hadn’t returned. Worry swirled as I followed my trail of dusty footsteps back to the entrance.

No one else had returned. With a hiss and pop, the flames, and therefore my light, died. Then the distinct tap of boots on the stairs sounded. Kerrick? Or one of the others? Or someone new? Pressing up against a shelf with my knife in hand, I waited as the taps grew louder and a black silhouette appeared. Kerrick.

Relief rushed through me. I slid my knife back into its sheath, stepped away from the shelf and surprised him without meaning to. He knocked me to the ground and sat on me, pinning my arms until he recognized me. I hadn’t realized my eyes had adjusted to the dark, but his hadn’t.

“Don’t surprise me like that,” he said.

“Already figured that out,” I said. “Can you get off me now?”

He stood and pulled me to my feet. “Where are the others?”

I rubbed the back of my head. “Searching for something useful. My torch died.” I peered into the darkness, hoping to find a sign of one of the others.

Kerrick cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Gentlemen, time to go.”

Rustlings and footsteps approached. Quain and Loren appeared. Only Loren’s torch still burned.

Quain carried a crate. “It’s really creepy in here when the lights go out.”

“What did you find?” I asked.

“Notes on all the failed remedies for the plague. I wasn’t sure if it would be useful, but it was the only one I saw.”

“It’s a start.”

Kerrick gave me his care-to-explain look, but I ignored him as we waited for Belen.

“Why can’t we shelter in here?” I asked Kerrick.

“No back door.”

“There could be one,” I said.

“Without more torches, we won’t be able to find it. Belen’s probably stumbling around in the dark by now.” Kerrick called to him.

No reply. Loren offered to search, but Kerrick said no. Another fretful ten minutes passed, then Kerrick emitted a high-pitched and painfully sharp whistle.

“Over here,” Belen called back. “I’ve found something!”

We followed his voice. He stood at the far end of a row of shelves. The torchlight made a yellow puddle around his feet. When we drew closer, he moved the light, revealing a desiccated body on the ground.

Dried-out flesh clung to the bones. The man, I think, lay on his side. I bent closer to examine the corpse. Quain made a disgusted sound. As part of my healer training, I had assisted in autopsies and dissections in order to learn about the internal parts and organs of a body.

However, it didn’t take a healer to figure out what killed this man. A sword had been shoved between his ribs, piercing his heart. He had been murdered. I sat back on my heels, mulling it over. If the grieving public had gotten in here, they would have burned all the records. The door had been locked. Someone who had a key perhaps, or knew of this room’s existence. Too many unknowns at this point to determine why he had been murdered.

“There’s a broken crate underneath him,” Belen said. “Maybe he was protecting the contents.” He rolled the man onto his back.

I swept out the pieces and connected the ones marked with letters. There weren’t many. The crate had held Death Lily seeds.

Chapter 16

“Why would anyone want Death Lily seeds?” Quain asked.

“Or more important, why would the Healer’s Guild have these seeds in the first place?” Loren asked.

“To study them,” I said.

“Or to find a way to kill them,” Kerrick added.

Belen moved the dead body and the last bits of the broken crate to the side as if searching for something. “I don’t see the seeds anywhere. They’re gone.”

“How do you know what they look like?” Quain asked him.