“Why isn’t she answering?” There was just a touch of exasperation in Vincentia’s voice this time. Me being unconscious would undoubtedly make things a whole lot more difficult for her. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Even if I knew, I certainly wouldn’t be telling you.”

“Step away from her.”

“What are you going to do with her? And me?”

“My clients wish to speak to her.”

“And your clients are?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“And do these clients also wish to speak to me?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Move.”

“No.”

There was a soft but deadly-sounding click. I didn’t know a whole lot about guns, but I rather suspected that was the sound of a safety coming off.

“Move, or I will shoot you—and maybe in the process, hit her. I mean, bullets have been known to go straight through one person and lodge in the body of whoever is standing behind them. I suspect neither of us really want that.”

“And I suspect neither the gun nor the ammo it uses has the capacity to do that.”

“Maybe not, but are you really willing to risk her life testing that theory out?”

Even if he was, I certainly wasn’t. I lightly touched his spine and croaked, “It’s okay.”

Tension rolled across his back, then he stepped over my legs and squatted next to me, his shoulder resting against mine and his hands behind his back, pressed against the rear wall’s white-painted stone.

Power rose. He was calling to the stone, and my gaze shot to Vincentia’s. She hadn’t sensed it; she was too busy staring at me.

“You need to stop this,” I wheezed. My heart rate and breathing were definitely slowing, but I was still finding it difficult to talk. “Nothing good will come of your continuing involvement in the quest for the Claws.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And walk away from a contract? A rather large and very profitable contract? Hardly.”

“You’ll end up dead, Tia.”

She smiled. “That’s not what I’ve seen in the codex.”

“The codex doesn’t tell fortunes. It doesn’t see the future.” I paused, sucking in air, stretching my response to give Cynwrig more time. “It is the sum of all known information—a library of all godly artifacts and their uses, if you like.”

“Whoever told you that was feeding you misinformation.”

“I’m sure the goddess who helped create the Triune would dispute that statement.”

Her eyebrows rose, her expression one of disbelief. “You talked to the goddess?”

“Several of them.”

The power Cynwrig was raising now moved around the room, following the cottage’s foundations as it crept cautiously toward Tia. I needed to keep her talking and prevent her from noticing.

“How?” she said. “You don’t even have second sight.”

I smiled and raised one of the knives. It was still pulsing, though it was losing the shine it had gained in that luminous vortex. “Guess what? I’m a late bloomer.”

Her gaze narrowed, and just a fraction of... unease?... skirted through her expression. “It matters not. The codex is my inheritance, not yours. It’s not something your mother ever wanted or needed, but it helps me hunt relics and it will help the heir I will one day have.”