“Understood,” I muttered, my face hot. It was a relief when the others turned away from me, although a faint hint of satisfaction played at the corners of Morwin’s mouth. I didn’t like that at all.

Deeper into the fortress and away from the windows, it was pitch black. The air smelled dank: wet earth and iron and decay. The lantern light cast streaks of wavering orange over the walls and caught on the edges of small recesses cut between the stones. Offering holds, all empty now. Snatches of the vision still ran over my sight; I could see the holds filled with carved stones and wads of orange feathers, everything dripping with black oil. I fought to control my breathing. The further we walked, the more plaster remained on the walls, and some faded paint still showed in slicks of sickly green and peach. We moved quickly, and our footfalls resounded in the empty corridors.

Asan paused to hang her lantern on a hook at the top of the basement stairs.

“Watch your step,” she said.

The stairs ran downwards alongside the wall, carved right out of the stone of the hill and thick with cobwebs. The room below was huge, a vast hall that must have stretched almost as wide as the fort itself. A little beyond the stairs, I could see a shadowed mound—a five-foot-high heap of firewood covered in an oilcloth. The earthy smell grew stronger still.

“There should be cloth sacks here somewhere,” said Asan. She descended two steps at a time. “Herald Hayder, can you pack them with wood while we carry?”

“Of course.”

Asan reached the base of the stairs and walked over to the woodpile. She pulled aside the oilcloth and picked up a log. She nodded, grimly satisfied.

“Still dry,” she said. “With the smell, I thought we might be in trouble. Morwin, could you take that lantern from Raughn and light another?”

Something about the basement bothered me—beyond the yellow spill of the lantern, the shadows formed a shifting wall. Discarded furniture from the Order’s past occupations cluttered the room like misshapen islands. The furthest corners of the chamber remained completely dark.

Still, I did not want to draw any more attention to myself. I took one of the hessian bags that Jesane offered and began stuffing it with tinder. Rhyanon stayed close to me. Did she think I was going to faint or fall apart? Her protectiveness unnerved me, as did the way her gaze kept darting between Asan and Morwin. Her jaw moved; she was grinding her teeth.

“Some foresight on the part of Enforcement.” Morwin surveyed the covered crates of blankets and boxes crammed with jars of preserved food. She wandered over to have a closer look. “Keeping all these supplies at the Crown, I mean. Why go to such trouble?”

“Enforcement policy.” Asan methodically packed wood into a bag. “The department has a mandate to be prepared.”

“Prepared for what, exactly?”

“Circumstances like these.” She grunted as she straightened.