“Destroy it,” Birké said. “Let’s not wait a minute more.”

Another man, Tam, answered this with motion. He unclipped the mace that hung at his belt, gripped it, and tested its weight as he decided where to strike. Dariel understood him to have escaped from the Fru Nithexek, though the only marks of the sky bear on him were dark, circular tattoos around his eyes. He picked his target, a slanting compartment in the wall with hand-shaped, raised impressions on it. Those near him stepped back.

Dariel began, “Somehow I don’t think—”

Tam swung the mace. The iron head of it bounced back from the panel so forcefully the young man’s arm was flung over his head. He lost his grip on the mace and several had to duck out of the way to avoid being hit. Tam cried out, and for a cold second Dariel thought he might drop dead, cursed or something. But, no, it was just the pain in his shoulder and hand that caused him to cry. He stood, rubbing his shoulder, looking hurt and embarrassed at the same time.

Dariel took a moment, and then finished the sentence he had begun. “That we can just bash the place to pieces.”

“Tam,” Skylene said in a voice that made the statement the commendation she intended, “thank you for demonstrating what won’t work. We have to find another way.”

Dariel listened as the group talked, but he had his own idea and it held most of his attention. He circled it, unsure he wanted to offer it. It might fail for so many different reasons. There were risks. Perhaps as much as anything, it meant pushing through a wall of memories he did not relish facing. Or should he? Didn’t he have to? Those memories were tied up with the same children who were brought here. They included the same people he was now working against. He had unfinished business with the league. This could be a part of that.

“I think I know a way,” Dariel finally said. The others stopped talking and turned toward him. “I did something like this before. We blow it to bits—explosions, flame, and smoke.”

Tunnel nodded gravely. “Good idea.” A moment later, he added, “How will we do this thing?”

“We’ll need an explosive, of course,” Dariel said. “I think I know where to find one.”

They used the cover of darkness to hide them, sailing back around to the west side of Lithram Len. The moon was just a sliver, but the stars were bright and Dariel seemed to have no trouble feeling the contours of the shore and sensing the dangers beneath the black and silvered water. The others were quiet. Dariel could sense their fear rise to a trembling pitch when the glow of the league vessel-crowded harbor illumed the night sky. They were close enough to the shoreline that they saw it first as a hazy smoldering above the dark silhouette of the trees.