“It’s all right,” Alice said. “My name is Alice. It’s good to meet you.” She offered her hand to shake.

Actinia gave a squeak like a teakettle and jumped backward. Then, hesitantly, he mimicked her gesture. Flicker’s hand shot out and caught his wrist before they touched.

“Remember what your spark told you about Readers,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Where can I find Pyros?”

“In the banquet hall,” Actinia said, tearing his eyes away from Alice. “With the people who were hurt this morning.”

“Then we’d better not keep him waiting.” Flicker jerked his head to indicate Alice should follow. “Come on.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she said as they left Actinia behind and passed through a beaded curtain.

“He’s too curious for his own good,” Flicker muttered. “In here.”

A short corridor passed through another curtain and opened up into a high-vaulted cavern taller than any of the tunnels they’d come through. Huge slabs of polished rock were set out in rows, like tables for a feast, and smaller boulders might have served as chairs. A hundred fire-sprites could have dined there comfortably, but now there were only half a dozen, clustered around the tables nearest the door.

On those tables, Alice saw, a number of other fire-sprites were laid out. Smoke rose from them, little trails from their mouths and larger plumes from other places on their bodies. The closest one was missing his arm above the elbow, and smoke gushed from where it ought to have been.

They’re bleeding, Alice realized, with a sudden sick feeling in her stomach. Her throat went thick.

“Pyros!” Flicker said.

The fire-sprites on their feet were gathered around one slab, their backs to Alice. One sprite, thin and frail compared to the rest, pointed a finger and said, “Try it again!”

Another one did something that produced a flare of orange light. The smoke stopped for a moment, then redoubled, accompanied by a fierce hiss like a bucket dumped on hot coals.

“Stop,” the thin sprite said. “It’s no good. He is with the Heartfire now.”

All the sprites murmured something Alice couldn’t catch, including Flicker. She saw him make an intricate gesture above his bare chest, ending with his fist against his heart.

“Pyros,” Flicker said, more subdued now but still insistent.

The thin fire-sprite looked up. His hair, even longer than the others’, wavered between a snowy white and ash gray, with only a small corona of bright flame reaching down to his ears. His face didn’t have the lines a human’s would, but something about the set of his dull red eyes gave Alice the impression of immense age.