follow rolling stones."
Now, in the Passage, Linden was trembling from fears that she had so far held at bay—and yet, irrationally, she feared the darkness more. But she and the lord still had the fire, albeit concealed, so was it really dark when you knew that there was light but could not see it?
She realized she had said the last sentence aloud when the lord whispered, "Depends on whether it is light or darkness that you truly want."
Linden did not have time to dwell on his words, for just then someone else's light floated in from a side tunnel. Yet another mobile candle, carried by a woman who walked bent and slowly, tripping at stones and careless of the clatter she was causing. Her cloak was drawn tightly around her, a low hood concealing her features. A stench of sweat and cheap alcohol drifted towards Linden and lord Rianor as she passed them by. Something else reached them, too, a hint of a sound on the edge of perception, a whiff of a melody and inexplicable grief. Linden trembled again and felt the lord's arms tighten around her shoulders, his own body rigid and still.
The woman halted beside one of the doors that concealed stairs winding up to the higher level of the Passage, which was tangent to but never actually crossed the city sewers. She reached forward with her left hand.
"In the name of Him who watches this abject world, open!" she screamed in a voice much younger than her walking manner had implied, and soon the door withdrew inside the wall. A clock-like ticking sound overwhelmed the passage. The woman jerked her hand back and stood motionless before the threshold, as if she hesitated whether to cross it. Then, slowly, she turned back as the last faint echoes of ticking ebbed and the distant woeful melody heightened. Pale candlelight glowed on red, tear-brimmed eyes that only this spring had been blue and shiny. Greasy locks of once lustrous raven hair fell over a pallid and swollen face.
Oh, Katrina. Linden would have run to her, had Katrina not suddenly grabbed a stone and blindly hurled it forward, reaching for a second one as the first bounced from a wall before her. "Singing, Dimna?" The voice was shrill and unstable, nothing like the gentle and sweet voice of the friend who had once been like an older sister to Linden.
"I will find a way to destroy you, Dimna. You can't hide from me always, you wretched, perfidious monster! Give my baby back!"
Katrina stumbled through the portal just before the door clicked into its original position, and for a few moments of darkness and quiet Linden thought it had all been a nightmare. Then the monster's heartwrenching song was back, as was lord Rianor's candle. For a second he and Linden regarded each other in silence, before she had to look away, her vision suspiciously blurred.
"I knew her. She was my best friend. She left Mierber to recover after she lost her newborn baby."
"I am sorry." He retrieved a handkerchief from his coat's pocket and handed it to her. There were words embroidered on it, as well as a crest, but they blurred before she dabbed her eyes with it. Lord Rianor looked at the now sealed portal, then took Linden's hand and led her in the opposite direction. His words seemed to blend with the song, which sounded clearer as they neared a side passage.
"So the Commanders did not save someone she loved."
Linden met his eyes again and glimpsed a hint of an emotion, but it disappeared immediately. She wished her own feelings were hidden equally well.
"She did not, herself. She was the best healer, even better than Dad, but she could not do anything. Or so I knew." She trembled again, and he squeezed her hand almost imperceptibly. She squeezed back, wondering if it was normal for his touch to make her feel so much better. She also wondered if the steadily growing desire to close her eyes, cover her ears, and not think of anything any more was a sign of immaturity or of going mad.
"Believe it or not," she said after some time, "until
Now, in the Passage, Linden was trembling from fears that she had so far held at bay—and yet, irrationally, she feared the darkness more. But she and the lord still had the fire, albeit concealed, so was it really dark when you knew that there was light but could not see it?
She realized she had said the last sentence aloud when the lord whispered, "Depends on whether it is light or darkness that you truly want."
Linden did not have time to dwell on his words, for just then someone else's light floated in from a side tunnel. Yet another mobile candle, carried by a woman who walked bent and slowly, tripping at stones and careless of the clatter she was causing. Her cloak was drawn tightly around her, a low hood concealing her features. A stench of sweat and cheap alcohol drifted towards Linden and lord Rianor as she passed them by. Something else reached them, too, a hint of a sound on the edge of perception, a whiff of a melody and inexplicable grief. Linden trembled again and felt the lord's arms tighten around her shoulders, his own body rigid and still.
The woman halted beside one of the doors that concealed stairs winding up to the higher level of the Passage, which was tangent to but never actually crossed the city sewers. She reached forward with her left hand.
"In the name of Him who watches this abject world, open!" she screamed in a voice much younger than her walking manner had implied, and soon the door withdrew inside the wall. A clock-like ticking sound overwhelmed the passage. The woman jerked her hand back and stood motionless before the threshold, as if she hesitated whether to cross it. Then, slowly, she turned back as the last faint echoes of ticking ebbed and the distant woeful melody heightened. Pale candlelight glowed on red, tear-brimmed eyes that only this spring had been blue and shiny. Greasy locks of once lustrous raven hair fell over a pallid and swollen face.
Oh, Katrina. Linden would have run to her, had Katrina not suddenly grabbed a stone and blindly hurled it forward, reaching for a second one as the first bounced from a wall before her. "Singing, Dimna?" The voice was shrill and unstable, nothing like the gentle and sweet voice of the friend who had once been like an older sister to Linden.
"I will find a way to destroy you, Dimna. You can't hide from me always, you wretched, perfidious monster! Give my baby back!"
Katrina stumbled through the portal just before the door clicked into its original position, and for a few moments of darkness and quiet Linden thought it had all been a nightmare. Then the monster's heartwrenching song was back, as was lord Rianor's candle. For a second he and Linden regarded each other in silence, before she had to look away, her vision suspiciously blurred.
"I knew her. She was my best friend. She left Mierber to recover after she lost her newborn baby."
"I am sorry." He retrieved a handkerchief from his coat's pocket and handed it to her. There were words embroidered on it, as well as a crest, but they blurred before she dabbed her eyes with it. Lord Rianor looked at the now sealed portal, then took Linden's hand and led her in the opposite direction. His words seemed to blend with the song, which sounded clearer as they neared a side passage.
"So the Commanders did not save someone she loved."
Linden met his eyes again and glimpsed a hint of an emotion, but it disappeared immediately. She wished her own feelings were hidden equally well.
"She did not, herself. She was the best healer, even better than Dad, but she could not do anything. Or so I knew." She trembled again, and he squeezed her hand almost imperceptibly. She squeezed back, wondering if it was normal for his touch to make her feel so much better. She also wondered if the steadily growing desire to close her eyes, cover her ears, and not think of anything any more was a sign of immaturity or of going mad.
"Believe it or not," she said after some time, "until
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