Footsteps pounded down the tunnel, the blindfolded chordlings marching into the cave of mirrors, filling it. Follow us, one of them said, except his mouth didn’t move, because now Bryony could see what those vertical white lines on his lips were. White threads. They were sewn into the skin above and below his lips, sealing his mouth shut. The rest of the chordlings had them as well. And yet she’d heard him speak all the same; it had been like his words had been pushed directly into her mind. His voice came again. We’ll lead you as far as the edge of Oath.

“Wait,” Bryony said. “Why do you wear those blindfolds when it won’t hurt you to look upon the Daughters of Ereniel?”

The one who had spoken moved, somehow managing to stop just before her. He reached up and, with a small tug, pulled his blindfold off his eyes. Or at least where his eyes should’ve been. Instead there just two dark, sightless pits. We don’t wear them for ourselves. We wear them for you.

She probably should’ve left it at that, but Bryony couldn’t seem to hold back the tide of questions rising inside her. “But why must you be blind at all to be chordlings? And why are your mouths sealed shut? And how are you able to speak to us without moving your lips?”

The man drew his blindfold back over the pits, cocking his head to one side. We are not blind, child. We just see in different ways. Maybe one day you will too. And there’s more than one way to have a voice in this world. Now, please, come, now that you have received your augury you cannot linger here.

With that, the man followed his fellow chordlings into a completely different tunnel than any they’d traveled down thus far. Bryony swore it hadn’t been there before, but she couldn’t be sure because of the tricks the mirrors continued to play on her eyes.

Settling in beside Ludo once more, they fell in behind their army of guides. “Feeling bold today?” he said with a raised eyebrow. His fingers brushed against hers, but it was impossible to tell whether it was intentional or not.

“Something like that. At least we’re not dead.”

“Gods, did you get hit in the head during your augury or something?”

“Several times. Why?”

“I’ve never known you to be so positive.”

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“I prefer the old Bryony.”

“When I was grumpy and mean to you?”

“Aye, she’s my favorite.”

“Figures coming from the man who’s made getting in drunken tavern fights a sport.”

“I try to stick to doing what I’m good at.”

“Fair enough. Then perhaps I should go back to being grumpy and mean to you.”

“Would you? Oh thank you. That’s a relief.”