I am, however, surprised by the sheer size of it. Fifty meters tall at least, and that’s just what I can see, cascading in multiple tiers down a face of jagged rock before plunging into darkness so absolute, not even my adapted eyes can penetrate it. But that is not what takes my breath away—it is the color. The multihued glow which pulses from those frothy streams, as though the water itself has been lit up from the inside. Blues, purples, greens, teals—it dazzles my eyes, utterly glorious to behold.
“Magic!” I breathe.
“Phosphorescence.”
The dark rumble of a voice sends a shock straight down my spine. I pivot, gripping the balcony rail for support, and peer back into the doorway through which I just came. The doorway itself is surrounded by massive lichen fronds, which grow in pale green and purple layers up the stone on either side, casting deep shade that very nearly obscures the tall figure standing just beyond the threshold. But I would know that voice—and that enormous frame—anywhere.
Valtar steps out onto the balcony. For once he’s not wearing his all-black ensemble. Instead a fine tunic of wine red stretches over his chest, his shoulders straining the seams. The color enlivens his complexion unexpectedly, but I find my gaze drawn to the deep V at his throat, to the place just below the divot of his collarbone where the front laces crisscross over the topmost edges of his dracori mark.
My heart stutters. I’m not altogether certain if it’s from fear or…something else. By rights it should be fear. After all, the last time I was this close to the man, he had just brutally slit another man’s throat and stood before me covered in his victim’s blood.
“It’s calledphosphorescence,” he says. “Light without heat. A natural phenomenon, not magic at all.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “It sounds to me like you’re spouting nonsense.”
A small quirk at the corner of his mouth—not quite enough to bring out that dimple. “I spent a period of my childhood among the Magjor, a dwarf tribe in the Evindal Mountains. Dwarves, as you know, do not care for magelight or magic, refusing even to usescintils. They prefer to keep things natural, as it were.”
“Perhaps,” I acknowledge, turning to look out at that shimmering view once more. “But this doesn’t strike me as bright enough to light up a city.”
“You may be surprised.” Valtar approaches. He moves with such silent grace, I would not hear him at all were it not for the extreme alertness of my own senses to his presence. He draws near to the balcony rail, resting one big hand on it. “May I have your permission to douse thescintils?”
I bite my lower lip. I’m not particularly keen to be alone in the dark with this man, even knowing my guards are posted nearby. But I can’t have him thinking I’m frightened either. “If you like.”
He looks at me long and hard, as though trying to gauge information from my face. I offer him nothing—just a cool, unsmiling blandness, which is much harder to conjure than I like to admit. My face is not naturally inclined to conceal emotions but generally displays everything I’m feeling, good, bad, or ridiculous. Still, I put up a brave effort.
At last Valtar seems to concede. He turns away, looking out across the waterfall view. “Lights out,” he says clearly, using the inflection which triggers the nearbyscintilsto obey. Immediately the balcony on which we stand is plunged into darkness so abrupt, even my eyes are stunned by it. It’s so like the darkness which overwhelmed the great hall last night, my heart jumps, and both my hands grab the balcony rail for support.
Within three breaths, however, the world around me changes. The light from the waterfall intensifies, and there’s more as well, nearer to me. The lichen growing around the door and up the wall is likewise alive with heatless inner glow. It’s not bright, exactly…one would have to be pretty adept at living in the dark to be able to manage by this and no other light source. But it is beautiful. So beautiful, I quite forget all ladylike restraint.
“Gods smite me black and blue!” I exclaim, stepping back from the rail and spinning in place slowly, eager to take it all in. The hues of purple and teal pulse gently, like living spirits made visible to mortal eyes. “Isn’t that a wonder?” I turn at last and lean over the rail, half wishing I might fly out into that waterfall, casting myself into its luminous flow. “The dwarves might just be onto something. Thisisbetter than magic!”
For a few moments, I forget everything—the trial, the blood, the horror, my own imprisoned state. I’m simply glad. Glad to be here in this exact spot, gazing on this exact view. It’s so much more glorious than anything I’ve ever imagined…How can I not be grateful that the winds of fate have blown me here, regardless of whatever else may happen?
Valtar does not speak. He moves to stand at the rail beside me, leaving a good two feet of distance between us. Nevertheless, I cannot help my own awareness of the bigness of him, the warmth of his presence. He radiates such heat, I could easilybelieve, of the two of us, he was the one possessed of fire in his blood.
Memory of that hideous dracori brand flashes through my mind. It is said Mhoryga’s servants are pumped full of dragon blood, and those who survive the process are able to wield hellfire on command. I’ve seen the dracori summoning green flame; there is at least some truth in those stories.
My pleasure in the moment somewhat dampened, I turn my back on the waterfall and lean my elbows against the rail. “So,” I say, determined to keep my voice light, “you somehow managed to win the challenge after all.”
He casts me a sideways look. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Oh, I thought you were a lost cause for sure when you turned back to help Prince Warrick. Taigan took such a lead on you at that point, I half expected to be dining with him this evening.”
“I would never allow someone so unworthy to claim such a prize.”
Heat scalds my cheeks. I look down at my toes, peeking out from beneath the hem of my skirt. Gods above, if I never hear the wordprizespoken again in relation to me, it will be too soon! I open my mouth to chastise the prince, but instead say, “Still, it was unexpectedly merciful of you. After all your posturing as the vicious cutthroat—oh gods!”
I clap a hand over my mouth. Once more, that image of Joro’s corpse lying in a pool of blood appears all too vividly to mind. Valtar looks at me, and I gape back at him, blinking three times. “Well,” I say, lowering my hand slightly, “I suppose it isn’t posturing if youactuallycut throats, is it?”
The corner of his mouth twitches again, almost imperceptibly. He is silent for several breaths before that low growl of a voice rumbles in my chest once more. “I only did it because I suspectedPrince Warrick would be useful when it came to the final challenge of this trial. As it turns out, I was right—without him, we all very likely would have failed.”
I draw a little breath and, once more careful to control my tone, say, “Is that so? I confess I missed the end of the trial. There were…it was…I was rather distracted, you see. I do seem to remember something about a bottomless pit. However did you manage to cross it?”
His elbows rest on the stone rail, his body bent over to lean casually forward, hands slack at the wrists. Spray from the waterfall dampens the ends of his dark curls and paints a faint mist over his cheeks. “Having once lived with dwarves, I am familiar with the concept oftordynarr.”
“And what is that exactly?” My Dwarvish is limited to price bargaining with the dwarves who, on rare occasions, visit Mistress Iliyani’s cottage. I can say,durothornarduroth, which isdealorno deal, respectively. I’m told my accent is appalling, but I’ve always managed to get my point across, accompanied by a few emphatic gestures and expressions. Otherwise, the language is a mystery to me.
“Tordynarris a concept of brotherhood,” Valtar says. “Or sisterhood—dwarves do not gender the word so specifically. And it encompasses greater weight and meaning than our meager translations. It has to do with the understanding that to become fully dwarf, one must embrace one’s role in collective society as well as one’s responsibility as an individual. Both aspects are of equal and balanced importance to true dwarfdom.” He shrugs one shoulder. “While I couldn’t know exactly what the final challenge of today’s trial would be, I suspected it would likely involve some aspect of cooperation among the champions. An opportunity to demonstratetordynarr. Thus, I knew it would be prudentto keep alive those men most likely to work together to succeed in the final stretch.”
