at them, harried them into Stone’s reach, or finished off the walking wounded. Moon was peripherally aware of Chime and River doing the same, protecting their flanks. He kept getting glimpses of Esom, as he scrambled to stay behind them and away from the wardens. They must have killed dozens of the creatures but more came. Ardan was throwing every resource he had against them.
Then River called out, “We’re nearly to the wall! What now?”
Moon risked a look and saw they were nearly against the far wall of the chamber. There was a wide chased-metal gallery built across it, about thirty paces up, probably meant as an access to the tombs there. Unless Ardan had wardens who could fly, it would provide a needed respite. “Get up there!” he shouted to the others.
River bounced up to the gallery, and Chime snatched up Esom and followed. Stone pitched one last warden across the chamber and climbed after them, Moon close behind.
Panting, dripping with the creatures’ bitter blood, Moon gripped the railing, looking over the chamber. He couldn’t see the dome from here. It was lost in the shadows. He could see the scattered, bleeding bodies of the wardens. The dozen or so still on their feet edged forward. And past the first row of pillars stood a group of blue-pearl guards. They surrounded a single robed figure: Ardan.
“He’s here,” Moon said, glancing at the others. “The groundling magister.”
Chime and River were breathing hard, their scales covered with claw marks, the nicks and scratches of near-misses. Esom was flattened back against the wall, his expression numb with fear. Stone curled around the railing, most of him resting on the delicately incised metal of the gallery floor, tail dangling and deceptively relaxed. He snorted derisively, making his opinion of Ardan clear.
The magister moved forward, to the last row of pillars, barely fifty paces from them. He called out, “Please, let me speak to you!”
“We can hear you,” Moon said, pitching his voice to carry.
Ardan stepped forward again, and shaded his eyes against the glare of the nearest vapor-light. Squinting up at them, he said, “Surely we can come to some agreement.”
Moon hesitated. He knew Ardan had a talent for sounding sincere, but it was hard to resist the appeal. Ardan must not know Jade and Flower were trapped in the dome. If they could just talk him into letting them get back over to it…
Esom whispered urgently, “Don’t believe anything he says.”
River hissed in contempt. “He only wants to talk because we’re winning.”
“We’re not winning by that much,” Chime said, keeping a nervous eye on the wardens.
Stone jerked his head, telling Moon to go ahead and talk.
Moon spread his wings and dropped down from the gallery to land lightly on the floor.
Ardan regarded him for a moment. He was breathing roughly too, as if he had been in a battle. It must have cost him an enormous effort to send all these creatures after them. It was a relief that it wasn’t much easier to send them than to fight them. Ardan said, “I should have taken even more precautions, but I didn’t realize Esom knew where the seed was.” He hesitated, and looked up at the balcony again. “I didn’t realize there were so many of you here, or that one was so… formidable. I don’t see Rift. I assume he’s unhurt?”
So all their speculation was right and the seed was here, hidden in the dome. At least all this wasn’t for nothing, Moon thought. “Why do you care about Rift? Worried you missed a chance to have a Raksura stuffed and mounted?”
Ardan’s voice tightened. “He’s my friend. I don’t want him injured. He’s told me what he can expect from his own people. Your reaction to him was proof enough of that.”
“He stole our seed. He knew what that would do to the tree,” Moon said, and thought, He thinks Rift is here. He wants him to hear this. “Give it back, and we’ll leave. That’s all we want.” It was worth a try.
“I’m afraid I can’t.” Ardan’s voice was low and intense. “I persuaded Rift to help me take it from the forest because I had no other choice. It is a powerful artifact, and it means the survival of everyone in this city.” He stepped forward, and his men spread out to either side of him, watching Moon nervously. “Over the turns, our own magic has waned. We have to use substitutes, objects that carry inherent power that can