Page 23 of Horn of Winter

I glanced at him. “I take it you’ve already got access?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t given clearance.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Because Liadon has final say over who does and does not enter her domain. You were approved. I was not.”

“To repeat, why not?”

He shrugged. “One of the conditions under which she agreed to become keeper of the records was having the final say over access. We cannot gainsay her without risking the destruction of said records.”

“This Liadon becomes more and more intriguing.”

“And if you stop delaying the inevitable with your questions, you’ll have the answers to them and all the others undoubtedly rolling through your brain.”

I reached past him and pressed my hand against the door. It was weirdly warm to my touch and a little bit oily—not enough to be repulsive but still unpleasant. Then the symbols on the door came to life, glowing with an odd green luminosity, and heat rolled across my palm and fingers. It reminded me a little of ascanner’s light, and made me wonder if the magic was taking a record of my handprint.

Then the light died and the door slid silently open. Darkness lay beyond. Darkness and that thick, musty, and very off scent. I warily stepped over the threshold. Prickly energy washed against my face and hands, and I stopped, even though the knives weren’t reacting. I glanced at Mathi. “Are you waiting here or leaving?”

“Leaving, as I have a meeting I must attend before the commemoration.” He paused. “Do not fall down the rabbit hole of information, and remember to keep your wits about you at all times. She’ll be watching everything you do closely, and she does not like others taking liberties with her information.”

It was hardly hers, but I knew what he meant. I nodded and impulsively touched his arm. “Thank you. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“With an official and unofficial report.”

“Indeed.” I smiled but it faded quickly as I stepped fully into the gloom. There was a soft “swish” as the door slid shut behind me, and the gloom deepened. I didn’t move, waiting for my eyes to adjust, aware of movement somewhere in the distance but unable to see a damn thing.

After a few tense seconds, a pale green light flared to life a couple of feet above my head, and a soft but strangely remote voice said, “Welcome, Bethany Aodhán. The orb will lead you down to my vaults. Please do not stray from the path it takes, as this world of mine is vast, and dangers lurk in her deeper depths.”

I didn’t immediately reply, because the little light took off with surprising speed, and it was all I could do to catch up with it. Liadon must have seen my struggle, because it slowed, allowing me to catch up, and then proceeded at an easier pace.

“Am I allowed to ask you questions?”

“You can always ask. Whether I reply is a different matter.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “That very much sounds like something Beira would say. She’s?—”

“I’m well aware who Beira is” came the reply. “She and I had dealings in far earlier times.”

“Good dealings or bad?”

“When dealing with old goddesses, they are often one and the same.”

There was amusement in her otherworldly voice, which went some way to easing my immediate tension. The existence of a sense of humor didn’t mean she wouldn’t kill me, of course, but it did at least mean there was far more to her than just the soulless guardian the council’s warnings and my own imagination had suggested.

The orb continued to bob along, washing its strange green luminance across walls that were glass smooth and black. As Dorothy had been known to say, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Down and down we went, the path never altering its steepness. The deep sense of distance between me and the “upper” world increased, as did the growing awareness of the vastness of this place, though I could see little more than vague shapes beyond the gloss of the sheer walls surrounding me. The stench, I noticed, didn’t appear to be as bad down here, although it was always possible my nose was simply adjusting to it.

The little light finally led me into a circular cavern that was as high as it was wide. There were no computers, no shelves full of books, no scrolls of any kind, and little in the way of furniture other than the solitary, comfortable-looking chair sitting in the center of the room. I glanced behind me. There was also no sign of the tunnel I’d come through. Nothing but smooth rock.

I was trapped here until Liadon decided to let me go.

I flexed my fingers and tried to relax. I had no reason to fear Liadon unless I did something stupid, and I wasn’t about to dothaton our first meeting.

The little green light was hovering over the chair, meaning I was probably meant to go sit. I hesitated, briefly imagining all sorts of scenarios where chains or arms whipped up from the plush sides and trapped me. Sleep, or lack thereof, had definitely supercharged my imagination.

With a slight shake of my head at my own errant thoughts, I walked over and sat down. It felt like I was sinking into a supportive cloud. A bell chimed, and I had a sense of movement, though the cavern and the light looked unchanged.

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