calling! No more of your shame and hidden sin upon us. Mother does not know what you are, what really took you—and I will keep it that way.”
“I was called,” Wynn answered—in Ore-Locks’s deep voice. “Called by one that so few remember . . . and none know for the truth. But I hold that truth.”
“You hold a lie!” Sliver nearly screamed back. “And if it calls you, then faith itself is a plague—and you are nothing but its carrier. Is it not enough that we’ve fallen so low that you try to infect us with its horror? Follow it alone and keep away! Do not come again!”
Sliver backed up the passage as she began to shake—as she had upon Wynn’s visit when the smith first uttered Ore-Locks’s name.
“Stay away from us!” she shouted. “Go to your fall . . . alone!”
The memory faded, and again Wynn looked into Shade’s eyes.
Whatever called Ore- Locks to service among the Stonewalkers horrified Sliver, and perhaps High-Tower as well. Was that why the domin had nearly denounced his brother in that one secret visit to the guild?
Shade had been very . . . very busy, indeed. Wynn sat astonished, now realizing just how intelligent the majay- hì were as a whole—or Shade for her youth.
“Did you see more?” Chane asked. “Did she show you anything that would help us locate the texts?”
Wynn shook her head. “No, it was Ore- Locks’s this time. I’m not certain, but I may have gotten to him. I’ll tell you more later. Right now, I need you to stay and watch for the duchess, while I go back to the Iron-Braids’.”
Chane frowned. “I do not like that plan.”
Wynn stroked Shade’s head. “I can’t miss a chance to catch Ore- Locks if he goes home. And someone has to watch for the duchess. Shade will come with me, and I’ll be fine.”
Chane paced, and Wynn waited for him to accept the only option.
“If the duchess comes out, I will follow her,” he finally agreed. “But once you leave the smithy, go directly to the inn, so I can find you.”
Wynn nodded and stood, picking up her staff. She still wished Shade could grasp language more than just remembering sounds, but at least in that she understood it was meaningful. And there was no denying certain advantages of memory-speak. She reached for her pack hooked over Chane’s shoulder. When she saw his face, she stopped with her hand gripping the strap.
He looked expectantly down at her, perhaps a hint of hope glittering in his eyes, which now had a touch of their original brown.
“We made contact with a Stonewalker,” he whispered. “We are getting closer.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “So no matter what else, don’t you get caught.”
He touched the back of her hand, still high upon his shoulder. “I will find you later.”
Wynn took the pack and started off with Shade pressed against her leg.
CHAPTER 13
Wynn headed for the Iron-Braids’ smithy, her arms loaded full of bread, potatoes, and a burlap-wrapped halibut. She’d stopped in the market long enough to procure goods from what few vendors the market long enough to procure goods from what few vendors remained. Hopefully Mother Iron- Braid wouldn’t take it as an insult, though Sliver likely would. Shade traipsed beside her, snuffling hopefully at the scent of fish.
“You’ll wait—and behave yourself,” Wynn said, not that Shade would understand. “We’ll have dinner soon . . . I hope.”
As she neared the smithy’s open door, she paused at the sound of raised voices within.
“You refuse me . . . again?” a male voice boomed in Dwarvish.
“I will not repeat the reasons . . . again!” Sliver shouted back.
Wynn crept closer, peering inside as Shade stuck her snout around the door frame.
A stout male dwarf in fine dark pants and a cleanly oiled hauberk stood face-to-face with the smith. His mass of brown hair was pulled back in a leather thong, and his slightly darker beard was trimmed and crisply groomed. It was Carrow, Hammer-Stag’s clan-kin.
“You protect nothing,” he said, and then anger softened into pleading. “There is nothing left to protect. Your family name has faded. It will be lost one way or another.”
“To even say so shows you know nothing of me,” Sliver answered, “let alone my heart. So how could I accept you?”
Wynn swallowed hard. Hammer-Stag’s clan-kin had proposed marriage—and not for the first time.
“Your brothers are long gone,” he said, stepping closer and holding out his hand. “They have abandoned you—I have not—and I do