He stood and lurched down the corridor, his amulet lighting the way. He would carry Dancer’s body to the entrance on Hanalea, close to Marisa Pines Camp, then go to Willo and tell her what had happened. Somehow, he had to get word to Cat; but if he went down into the city, he stood to be arrested.

But the Bayars had said the city was under siege. His steps faltered, his plans dwindled to dust. He’d nearly forgotten the story the Bayars had told, to try to get him to tell them where the armory was.

No, he decided. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

Ahead, he saw a faint glow that might be torchlight. He was close to where he’d left Fiona, where Dancer had died. Han eased forward, peering around a rock, to see somebody in clan garb kneeling next to a body. He seemed to glow, illuminated like an angel come to claim a soul.

“Dancer?” Han breathed, thinking he must be hallucinating.

Dancer looked up at the sound of Han’s voice. They stared at each other for a long moment, each startled into silence.

“Hunts Alone!” Dancer exclaimed, pushing to his feet. “Thank the Maker you’re alive! I need your help.” He focused in closer. “You look terrible!”

Han careened into speech. “You’re dead!” he said. “I saw it. Bayar destroyed you.”

Dancer shook his head. “That was a shade,” he said. “A projection. Crow suggested we send it ahead to draw the Bayars’ fire, because we weren’t sure exactly where you were. It worked, but then…”

“Crow?” Increasingly confused, Han came closer and looked down at the body. It was Night Bird.

For a terrible moment, Han suspected he was still chained to the wall, suffering hallucinations. He pressed his hands over his eyes, but when he removed them, Dancer and Bird were still there.

Han embraced Dancer, relieved to find him flesh and blood and breathing.

Dancer squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I went to Aediion, looking for you, and Crow was there. He told me you were being held at Aerie House. Bird and I were coming to rescue you when we ran into you here in the tunnels.”

Dancer knelt again, stroking Bird’s forehead. “Bird shot Fiona, but Bayar hit her a glancing blow before she could get out of the way. She has a pulse, and she’s breathing, but I can’t get her to wake up. Can you do anything?”

Han sank to his knees next to Dancer. “I’m lost,” he said, running his hands over Bird, looking for a wound or entry point, searching for the cold place that meant that death was coming for Bird. “How did she get involved in this?”

“I asked her to come,” Dancer said. “I knew I needed help.”