Slowly, Maya focused on the seats high above the arena. The Order was on its collective feet, the arcanists and the servants and the quartermasters, all shouting their approval. The centarchs were more reserved, as befitted their station, but their applause added to the storm of noise.

Pain rose around Maya, threatening to engulf her. Blood pattered to the sand beside her at a frightening rate. Her legs threatened to give way, but she forced herself to stay on her feet. She let her haken’s blade vanish and tossed it to one side. From the arena entrance she could see Evinda approaching with a gang of servants. I hope they brought a healer.

Above the arena, two things caught her eye. One was Beq, pushing forward to the very front, marked out by her golden spectacles. Maya gave her a weak wave, and her heart flopped as Beq waved back.

The other was the Council. Prodominus was on his feet, applauding and whistling through his teeth, and after a moment Baselanthus joined him. The rest had their heads bent together, in urgent discussion. Except for Nicomidi. Nicomidi was—

Gone.

Chapter 19

Gyre opened his eye and found himself in complete darkness. When he tried to move, his right arm didn’t respond, as though it was bound tightly against him, and something restrained his legs. His left hand flailed weakly across his body, and he felt his breath quicken in panic.

Focus. Calm. He gritted his teeth. He remembered—falling, and pain—

“Oh, you’re awake.” A pleasant voice, familiar. Gyre tried to clear his throat and coughed.

“E … Elariel?”

“Nice to meet you again,” the ghoul said politely. He heard her moving around, felt something brush against him. “You were in better shape last time.”

“Why can’t I see?” Gyre said.

“Ah, yes. Hold still.”

It took considerable effort for Gyre to keep himself calm enough to obey. He felt the ghoul bending over him, the warmth of her breath on his face, and then her fingers touched the skin around his good eye. He suppressed the urge to jerk away, clenching his jaw so hard his teeth ached. Something cool and wet dripped into his eye, and he blinked involuntarily. Elariel let go and moved away.

“This is similar to what you humans call ‘nighteye,’” she said. “But considerably more effective. Don’t light any fires before it wears off, or you may blind yourself.”

Whatever the stuff was, it worked quickly. Gyre blinked again and found the room fading into view in spite of the lack of any light.

He lay on a table in a small chamber. The only other furnishing was a tall stool on which Elariel sat, legs primly crossed, hands on her knee. Her long, expressive ears were raised, and her huge eyes, nearly all pupil, regarded him calmly.

“Where am I?” Gyre said, though he could think of only one possible answer. His breath caught.