black line no more than a hair’s breadth. Similarly delicate and swirling marks and symbols covered the rest of it. Though it had the feel and weight of steel, a faint scent of charcoal rose from its etchings.
Chane stepped to the gate’s center.
Crouching below the cross strut, he slipped the pry bar’s end through, along one iron bar’s side, and then reached through and hooked the loop over its end. The hoop slid down, resting against the gate’s bar.
He had barely fathomed the hoop’s operation. Whereas Welstiel had called up intense heat within the item, even handled it while hot, Chane could barely get it to glow. And once it was activated, he dared not touch it, always waiting long, until it cooled enough to pick up.
Chane waved Shade back as Wynn watched in silence. With a hoarsely whispered chant, he traced his index finger around the hoop and jerked his hand back.
Red pinprick sparks rose within the hoop’s marks. They spread until all the etchings glowed like the coals beneath a fading fire.
“Is it doing anything yet?” Wynn asked.
Chane carefully touched the gate’s bar in contact with the hoop. Barely any heat had penetrated. He needed more. But how?
He made a blind choice.
Dropping his free hand into the water, he drenched it. He then raised and extended his index finger as he began to chant again.
“No, it’s too hot!” Wynn warned.
Chane quickly traced his finger another time around the hoop. A sizzle of water rose from the contact. He felt his fingertip begin to sear as he finished and thrust his hand down into the water.
The hoop’s marks glowed with a sudden intensity. Red light became ruddy orange.
Pronounced heat radiated upon Chane’s face. He heard Wynn suck in and hold a breath as he repeated the process, once, twice, three times more. The scent of seared flesh became distinct in the air. With his hand submerged the last time, Chane let hunger rise enough to eat away the small pain.
The hoop’s markings turned pale orange-yellow, and the pry bar’s steel began to grow hot.
He untied his cloak and wrapped a corner of it around the pry bar’s nearer end. Even with protection, he felt heat grow beneath his grip. Vapor began to rise off the wet wool, but he focused only upon the gate’s bar in contact with the hoop.
The barest dim red had spread into the black iron. He tipped the pry bar forward.
The hoop fell on the gate’s far side and hit the water with a sharp hiss. As a cloud of steam erupted on its impact, Chane threw all his force against the pry bar’s cloak-wrapped end.
Without a wall to brace his back, his boots slipped on the tunnel’s submerged floor, but the one heated bar bent away from its nearest neighbor. He twisted back, levering the other way. The other central bar barely gave, but the heated one bent a little more.
“That’s enough,” Wynn said. “You’ve got it.”
Chane pulled the pry bar out and splashed water against the gate’s heated bar. Once it stopped steaming, he knew it was safe enough to pass through. He tossed the pry bar to the other side and took his packs from Wynn. He held hers as she struggled through the widened space, and then Shade wriggled after her.
Chane passed Wynn’s pack and staff through. When she was ready, he shoved his own belongings through the tight space. Getting through himself was more trouble, and he ended up soaked to the shoulder on his left side. The last thing he did was fish out the pry bar and use it to hook the hoop out of the water.
The etchings still glowed. Not as brightly as when he had dropped it, but more than in the first pass of his finger. He had not yet learned how to dispel its heat and would have to carry it on the bar for now. He crouched down a bit.
“Warm yourselves,” he said, nodding to the hoop.
Wynn waved Shade closer, though the dog was hesitant. Both took a moment of much-needed heat. Then Chane noticed the water on this side of the gate.
It reached above his ankles.
When he looked up, Wynn was staring up the tunnel. With a nod from her, they resettled their gear and moved on. Shade took the lead, and Wynn stayed close behind on Chane’s right, holding the cold lamp crystal as he kept the dimly glowing hoop suspended ahead of him. It was a while before their feet