“You saw a woman with some powers in a red dress,” Seregil replied. “That doesn’t make her a necromancer. Perhaps she’s the one who put the seal there.”

“Wouldn’t she be dead after all these years?” said Micum. “For that matter, wouldn’t the necromancer?”

“Not if she’s a dyrmagnos,” said Thero, sending a chill through all of them. “Which would explain the lengths taken to contain her.”

“By the Flame, I hope not.” Micum rubbed absently at the scars left on his leg by Irtuk Beshar, the dyrmagnos they’d destroyed on that lonely stretch of Plenimaran shoreline. The most powerful necromancers sometimes lived on for centuries as gruesome animated husks, growing more powerful with time.

“She didn’t look like one,” said Alec, emptying the last of the water into his cup. “Irtuk Beshar was a dried-up, leathery corpse. This woman is young and beautiful.”

“And how would she live there, if she was human?” asked Seregil. “The place saps the strength out of you every time you go in, and I’m reasonably sure that you would have died of hunger and thirst if you’d stayed any longer than you did.”

“Could a dyrmagnos survive there?” asked Micum. “Do they eat?”

“I’m not sure,” Thero replied. “They’re so rare that not a lot is known about them, apart from their powers and how difficult it is to kill them.”

“But we know how to kill one,” Micum pointed out. “You know the magic Nysander used on Alec’s arrows, don’t you?”

“Yes, in theory at least.” He thought a moment. “Whether she’s a dyrmagnos or necromancer or whatever else she might be, apparently something is sustaining her.”

“Do you remember anything else about her, Alec?” asked Seregil.

He thought a moment, picturing her in his mind. “She was the only one wearing fine clothing. I don’t remember seeing any other bright colors but that of her gown. When we were in the cave, she gave off light. That’s when I got a good look at her. Like I said, she was beautiful, and not frightening, either. She made me go where she wanted me to go, but she didn’t hurt me. Whatever the case, I have to get back there and find Mika.”

He rose to look for new clothes, but it was Thero who put a hand on his arm to stop him. His pale green-grey eyes were bleak as he said, “Either Mika is already dead, or she’s keeping him alive somehow. You rushing in there on your own and getting killed isn’t going to do anybody any good, since you’re the only one of us who can, as far as we know. And we’ve got to be ready to confront her. That will take some time.”

“Fine, did anyone bring my Radly out of the palace, and my quiver?”

“Yes. They’re in your tent,” said Micum.

“I’ll get them and Thero can put the magic on them or whatever it is you need to do.”

“You can’t go in alone,” said Seregil.