The Palace of Glass (7 page)

“Pyros,” Flicker said, more subdued now but still insistent.

The thin fire-sprite looked up. His hair, even longer than the others', wavered between a snowy white and ash gray, with only a small corona of bright flame reaching down to his ears. His face didn't have the lines a human's would, but something about the set of his dull red eyes gave Alice the impression of immense age.

“Flicker,” the old sprite said with a sigh of relief like the creak of a forge bellows. “You're all right. And—” His eyes found Alice, and he ducked his head in a half bow, long white hair falling around him like a curtain. “Reader. I'm sorry. I didn't see you.”

The other sprites turned to her at this, naked hostility
on their faces. One by one, they bent as Pyros had, but Alice felt herself shrinking under the glare of all those red eyes.

“It's all right,” she said. “You don't have to do that.”

“She's not the same one as last time,” Flicker said. “She's a kindling of his, or something—”

“An apprentice,” Pyros said, straightening to look Alice over. “Bitumen, can you see to Glare's arm? I must have words with the Reader in private, and I fear I am near exhaustion in any case.”

He looked at the largest of the other sprites, standing close behind his shoulder. After a moment, the big man grunted, and Pyros gestured toward another curtained doorway leading off from the big room.

“If you would, Reader?” Pyros' eyes found Flicker, who had begun to edge to the rear. “And Flicker, I would appreciate it if you would join us.”

Without waiting for an answer, the old man turned away. Flicker slunk after him, shoulders hunched. Alice followed. She couldn't help but glance at the table they'd all been gathered around, steeling herself for the sight of something gruesome, but there was nothing there but a pile of flaky gray ash.

AN OFFER OF AID

P
YROS LED THEM TO
a room with a few stone chairs and two of the elaborate glass sculptures. There were also a great many long stone cylinders, about as thick as Alice's arm, leaning in bundles against the walls or stacked in the corners. They were covered in intricate inscriptions, and Alice wondered if they served the fire-sprites in place of books. She hadn't seen any paper since she'd gotten here, or indeed anything that might have come from a plant; everything the sprites used for clothing or furnishing was made from leather, glass, or stone.

As soon as the beaded curtain had fallen closed behind them, Pyros spun on his heel, looking furious. Alice grabbed the Swarm thread at once, ready to defend
herself, but the old man was advancing on Flicker, one bony hand coming up to slap the boy hard across the face. Flicker's hair pulsed a wild blue-white for a moment.

“You have been accused of many things,” Pyros said, “but never, until now, of being an
utter fool.
What were you thinking?”

“That we have a better chance of finding the bluechill if someone looks for it,” Flicker spat back. The impression of Pyros' hand was livid on his cheek. “That I'd rather
do
something than cower and hide.”

“And what were you planning to do if you found it?”

“I had Ishi with me,” Flicker said, sullen defiance in his voice. “And my spear.”

“A hound and a boy with a spear against a monster out of legend,” Pyros said. “I'm sure that would have been a fight to remember.”

“Then I'd be dead,” Flicker said. “So what? At this rate, we'll all be dead sooner or later. Better than just
waiting
here.” His eyes, glowing bright, went to Alice. “Better than running to the
Readers
for help.”

Pyros slashed a hand in the air. “Enough. Be silent.” He turned to Alice. “I am sorry for that. Flicker is young, and like all youth, inclined to foolishness.”

“It's all right,” Alice said. “If he hadn't been there, I'd have had a hard time finding my way here.”

She left out the part where Ishi had attacked her. Flicker watched her, eyes narrowed, trying to figure out what sort of game she was playing.

“A happy accident, then,” Pyros said. “For both of you.”

He turned and walked to one of the stone seats, limping a little, and waved Alice to another. She sat, shifting uncomfortably on the hard, cold rock.

“I am afraid I don't have much to offer in terms of hospitality,” Pyros said. “In the past, Readers have told me that our food and drink does not agree with them. But I hope I can make you feel welcome here, nonetheless. We are honored to receive an apprentice of the great Master Geryon.”

“Thank you,” Alice said.

“And we are deeply grateful that he is willing to aid us in our time of need.” Pyros bent his head again. “Please tell your master we appreciate his acting so quickly on our request.”

Need?
Alice thought quickly. Ending hadn't said anything about a request.
But better for everyone if they think I'm here on Geryon's business.

“Yes,” she said, making things up as she went along.
“The master appreciates your . . . your
loyalty
. I am here to help you however I can.” She hesitated, then added, “Afterward, there may be some small matters in which you can help me, as well.”

“Of course,” Pyros said. “Anything we can do.”

“What?” Flicker said, breaking his silence. “You can't mean that. You
know
what she wants. The agreement—”

“I said
enough,
” Pyros spat, and bowed again toward Alice. “My apologies. We
are
grateful, I assure you.”

“What exactly is the problem?” Alice said. “Flicker said something about a monster.”

“A bluechill,” Pyros said. “A terror my people thought we had left behind long ago, when we first came to this world. It must have come through the wild gate.”

“It attacked your village?”

“Several times. We tried to kill it, but—”

“It can burrow through the rock,” Flicker broke in. “Break from one tunnel into another, faster than we can follow. It came in through a wall and took two boys away before anyone else could get there.”

Pyros glared at Flicker but nodded. “He is, unfortunately, correct. The bluechill feeds on heat and flame, and the village stands out like a beacon. It will eat until there is nothing left. And it is growing bolder. At first it
would strike and flee, but now it confronts us without fear. A dozen men attempted to stop it, this last time. You have seen the results.” Pyros sighed, a sound like a burned log collapsing in a hearth. “We would not trouble Master Geryon in the ordinary course of events. But I judged that, by the time of our next tribute, there would be no one left to pay.”

“All right,” Alice said. “So you want me to get rid of this thing.”

“With a Reader's power, surely even a bluechill would be no match for you,” Pyros said.

“A kindling Reader,” Flicker said contemptuously. “This is a bad idea, Pyros. If the bluechill kills her, Geryon will be angry—”

“How many times must I tell you to be silent?” Pyros waved his hand. “Go and tell Actinia and Verid that you're alive. They'll be worried.”

“I saw Actinia already,” Flicker said, but he wasted no time slinking out through the curtain, with one last glare at Alice.

“Again,” Pyros said. “I must apologize. He is young, and angry, and has no spark to guide him.”

“Spark?” Alice said.

“The one who kindled him. His . . . father, I think you
would say? Mother? Though I understand it is different for Readers.” Pyros shrugged. “I have never been to your world, I'm afraid.”

“Oh.” Alice felt a touch of fellowship for the boy. “I hope you won't punish him too badly.”

Pyros shook his head. “He must learn not to be so reckless. But that is not your affair.”

She nodded. “Can you predict when the bluechill will attack?”

“Not with any certainty. It is clever, for a beast. But it has been coming more frequently. It will be back, in no more than a few days. When it invades the village, you can confront it.”

Alice could feel the watch ticking away in her pocket.
I can't wait around for a few days. But they're not likely to help while that monster is out there.
She thought of the smoking, agonized sprites, and the table spread with ash.

“Wouldn't it be better to fight it in a place where nobody else will get hurt?” Alice said, improvising. “Can we lure it somewhere? If it likes flame, maybe we could make a big fire.”

“That might work,” Pyros said thoughtfully. “It can sense heat from a long way off. But if you hurt it, it will flee through the rock. You will need to trap it somehow.”

“I think I can manage that,” Alice said. “We should start as soon as we can, before it comes back here.”

“I agree. I will have material for the fire fetched.” Pyros got to his feet. “You will need a guide. If you do not object, I will assign Flicker.”

“Him?” Alice frowned. “He seems to hate me.”

“He needs to learn to work with Readers, whatever his feelings,” Pyros said. “And he owes me a penance for disobedience. You will find he is quite a clever boy, when he wants to be, and he has explored farther than anyone else.” The old man hesitated. “Just . . . make sure that he is careful.”

“I'll do my best,” Alice said.

As they walked through the endless, meandering tunnels, Flicker told Alice, grudgingly, about his world. The boy seemed caught between his dislike of her and pride in his knowledge, and eventually he couldn't resist showing off.

“At the bottom of the world is the Heartfire, where the rock is so hot, it glows and runs like water. All these tunnels”—he waved a hand at the winding corridor they were walking through—“were formed by the Heartfire in the old days. They wind around and on top of each other,
like a bucket of worms, all the way up to the surface.”

“What's on the surface?” Alice said. She was fascinated. While she'd explored through quite a number of portal-books in her errands for Geryon, this was the first time she'd felt a real sense of being on another world.

“Nothing,” Flicker said. “It's just cold and dark. I've been up there,” he added with a touch of pride. “Nobody else from the village has done that.”

“Is that where the bluechill comes from?”

Flicker nodded. “The wild gate is up there, somewhere. The bluechill comes from the other side. We used to live there, until—” He glanced at Alice, stopped, and shook his head sharply.

“Until what?”

“Never mind,” Flicker said abruptly. “This is what we're looking for.” He pointed ahead, where the corridor flared outward into a wider, taller space.

Alice held her glowing hand high to augment the light from Flicker's hair. The same lava that had made the tunnels had also created a natural amphitheater, a large, roughly circular room, dished at the bottom. Or perhaps not entirely natural—there were at least three doorways leading off into other passages that looked like they'd been shaped by intelligent hands.

“Did your people used to live here?” Alice said.

“When the Heartfire was warmer, and there were more of us,” Flicker said, and scowled. “That was a long time ago.”

He stalked to the center of the room, shrugging off the bulky ceramic pot he had strapped to his back. Alice carried one too, and she set it down next to Flicker as he removed the leather plug and poured a thin, translucent liquid into the round depression.

“Do you need help?” Alice said.

“You handle the killing, Reader. That's what you're good for, isn't it? Leave the fire to me.”

He stared intently at the oily stuff. Alice wasn't sure what it was made of, but she'd gathered—from the shouted argument between Pyros and Flicker—that it was precious to the fire-sprites. The amount the two of them carried represented weeks of labor on the part of the villagers, and Flicker had been opposed to wasting it on a Reader's schemes.

Alice looked around for good places to set up her wards. Each of the three squares of parchment was folded over, to prevent her from Reading it before she was ready, and they needed to be set up at the points of a triangle around whatever she wanted to capture. She laid
one of them on top of a fallen stone at the far end of the room, and wedged the second into a long, vertical crack running down the opposite wall. The last she took with her, back to where they'd come in, and set it on a boulder.

Flicker was emptying the second pot of fire-oil into the pool. Tiny wisps of white vapor rose from the surface of the stuff, as though it were impatient to burst into flame. When the pot was empty, Flicker got to his feet and looked over at her.

“Now what?”

“Light it, and get over here, as fast as you can.” They'd guessed it would take the bluechill at least a few minutes to sense the heat and arrive, but Alice didn't want to risk Flicker's being caught in the ward when she activated it.

Flicker raised a hand, and a tiny flame burst into being above it, burning merrily in midair. He held it out over the pool, then hesitated.

“If this doesn't work,” he said, “we're dead. You know that, right? We don't have a chance of hiding from the bluechill up here.”

“It'll work,” Alice said, then hesitated herself.
I never did
test
the ward, after all.
“If something goes wrong, though, just stay clear. I'll handle it.”

“Believe me, I intend to.” Flicker tipped his hand
over, letting the little fire fall. The fire-oil ignited with a
whoomph
and a burst of flame that raced across the surface of the pool. Tongues of fire rose up, a tall, steady blaze, licking close around Flicker. The fire-sprite's hair whipped in the draft from the flame, spreading around him like a halo and dancing with shifting colors.