Page 22 of Horn of Winter

“Speaking of Liadon,” I said, “has my request to access said records been granted? Because if you want results, you cannot keep hamstringing me—unless, of course, one of you fine peopleis happy to undertake the odious task of going through eons of records yourself.”

“That was certainly an option put forward,” Mathi said, amusement evident. “But it was in the end decided that the council’s time was better spent elsewhere. Of course, Liadon’s presence was also a factor.”

I raised my eyebrows. The fact the councilors were wary of her had trepidation stirring, but at least I had two advantages over them—my knives were not affected by the restricting magic of this building, nor was my ability to use the air as a protective or aggressive force.

“Does that mean I’ve been given unqualified approval to search the records?”

“Yes, indeed, although Liadon will always be present to keep an eye on everything that you do,” the older elf said. “Abuse our trust, and access will be revoked.”

I nodded. That was not unexpected, and simply meant I’d have to take more time—and perhaps win the trust of this Liadon, whoever or whatever she might be—before I began the search for any mention of Mom.

The older elf studied me for a second and then said, “You have been given access to both the building and Liadon 24-7. Mathi will take you there now and give you entry into Liadon’s domain.”

“Good luck,” someone muttered farther down the table.

I raised my eyebrows but didn’t reply. Mathi rose and motioned me to the door ahead of him. I waited until we were out of the antechamber and moving toward a much smaller set of stairs to the left of the doors before asking, “So who or what is Liadon?”

The stairs were concrete, like everything else in this place, but barely wide enough for one person. Mathi stepped ahead ofme and began the climb. “No one is really sure what she is, other than the fact she is not, and never was, human.”

“Is she dangerous?”

“Again, unknown.”

“Then why are councilors scared of her?”

He glanced over his shoulder, expression amused. “They would strenuously object to the word scared. Wary is their preferred term.”

I rolled my eyes. “Then why are the councilors sowaryof her?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

I scowled at him. He was well aware of it, too, because his amusement seemed to drift past me. The stairs wound around to the right, and an odd scent touched the air—a scent that was musky and unpleasant, reminding me vaguely of either rotten eggs or produce.

“Next time I’ll be bringing nose plugs,” I muttered, switching to breathing through my mouth. It didn’t help. The scent just coated my throat and made me want to dry retch.

“Oh, it gets better.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“You’re well aware that there’s not a sarcastic bone in my body.”

I snorted and did my best to ignore the increasing toxicity of the scent as we continued to climb. After what seemed like forever, we reached a large, intricately carved iron door. One that was layered with magic that felt old but neither foul nor good.

“What is this place?” I murmured.

“The council calls it the cavern of the gods.”

“It’s hardly a cavern when it’s sitting in the roof of the building.”

“The magic encasing the door isn’t protective, and the door isn’t really a door. It’s one part of a portal—one that allows Liadon access to this world and us to interact directly with her. But only when necessary, which for most is never.”

“I’m not liking the sound of all this.”

“It is definitely a case of being careful what you wish for.” He glanced at me, amusement twitching his lips. “You ready to enter?”

“Well, I didn’t climb all those stairs and endure that gods-awful smell just to back away at the end goal.”

“Then press your hand against the door. The magic has been set to register your imprint and your access will start immediately.”

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