He started feeling a warm breeze when they reached the opal ring. It might have been there all along, only drowned out by the cold near the entrance. It was unmistakable farther in. The air smelled pleasantly of hot metal.
“Your people do wonderful work,” said Vivian to her sword.
“I’ll second that. I’ve never had the honor of visiting their homes before.” Very few people did, particularly since Thyran’s first war. After Gizath’s first treachery, many stonekin had moved not merely over the mountains but halfway into another realm, one Olvir had never understood. When Thyran’s storms had struck, most had retreated farther.
“Neither have I. Clearly I’ve been missing out.” She waited, then passed along Ulamir’s reply. “He says the welcome would be better where they actually live but not the scenery: some of the arts that built this place are lost. The stonekin called the bands here to the surface; they didn’t mine them or carve them.”
Olvir studied the seamless rock, gleaming with multicolored light. “That would explain why it’s so smooth. They can’t do that any longer?”
“Talk rocks into position or shape? Not as deftly. Or Ulamir’s enclave couldn’t. People scatter among the stonekin, as we do, and knowledge slips through the cracks. Things vanish.”
“Not entirely,” said Olvir. “This place lasted long enough to save us.”
* * *
Past the sapphire-rimmed archway, a great blue-green room opened, its walls shining with their own light. Flowers formed of jewels bloomed there: roses of black opal climbed over one opening, little four-petaled white flowers twined up another, and irises with lapis blossoms flanked a third.
The beauty of it stopped Vivian in her tracks, despite her exhaustion.
Great celebrations would have been held here,said Ulamir.Holy days, births, deaths. They would have danced in patterns we can only try to imitate these days.
“It’s lovely,” said Vivian, putting a hand on the gemmed hilt of her sword. “Are you all right?”
Awed, touched, but not sorrowing,he said in return as Olvir glanced sideways, registered that Vivian hadn’t been asking him, and kept a respectful silence.Not truly. Listening, too, for there are…echoes here.
“Echoes,” she said aloud.
No ghosts. Any who died here would have gone to their rest long ago. Say, rather, tracks with personalities. I would learn more, if I can.
“Sounds wise,” said Vivian and summarized for Olvir.
Roses mark the gate to rest. In that, I’m sure there’s been no change. Food for us would lie through the iris door. It will do you no good, but near there, you’ll find a chute for waste as well.
“What do the white flowers lead to?” Vivian asked after additional translation.
Knowledge. The tales of these people were kept there once, their scholarship, too, and although I’m certain they’ve taken what they could, some remnant may yet lie within the room.He hesitated.Fireforged, I must leave you for a time and seek knowledge elsewhere.
“The echoes?”
Yes. Nothing here will harm you in my absence, I swear it.
“You don’t need to swear. I believe you. How long will you be gone?”
Two days, perhaps. No more. Most likely I’ll return long before the storm ends.
“I wish I didn’t know you were right. Farewell for now.”
She felt the sword-spirit depart. It was a slightly different mental sensation than the one Vivian got when he’d expended his strength or when he left so that she could pursue a liaison. The Veil of Fire didn’t stand between them on this occasion, but she still knew Ulamir’s attention was gone.
“Is all well?” Olvir asked after a moment.
“It should be. He’ll be back in a day or two.”
“Then I wish him joy. We have plenty to occupy us here.” For a moment, Olvir’s gaze passed over Vivian, making her heart start pounding. Then he cleared his throat. “We’d best start with finding a place to dry our clothes.”
* * *
“They all slept in groups?” Olvir asked, surveying the circular amethyst room they’d entered.
