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“Dory,” Caedmon said, very clearly and deliberately, “I need you to get to one of the crates and find something to destroy this ward. Can you do that for me?”
I looked at him. I looked at the crates. I looked back at him.
“No.”
“Dory, you must!”
“I . . . don’t have a leg.”
“But they do,” Caedmon whispered furiously.
I followed the direction of his gaze, to where a handful of trolls were staring at the approaching giants—including the two who had killed Olga’s nephew. They had their backs to us; I couldn’t see their faces. But those physiques were memorable.
And then a random troll wandered away from the rest, to relieve himself in a corner, and Dorina grabbed him. Near-death experiences were freaky, I thought, because I could almost see her, a dark shadow crouched on his shoulders, riding him across the room.
Had anyone been paying attention, the jig would have been up pretty much immediately, because the guy looked like he had palsy. He was jerking and shivering and staggering about as he tried to fight her off. But the giants in the mist were holding everyone’s attention.
I looked at Caedmon. “What are you doing here?”
“My sister.” It was vicious. “She met Alfhild at the consul’s home and they joined forces. She tricked me into coming here by telling me that she’d heard her husband talk about strange weapons being developed in the mountains—which I believed because we’d heard the same.”
“That’s what you wanted Claire to help you find.”
He nodded. “We’d heard rumors of Aeslinn establishing laboratories outside his capital, away from the prying eyes of any spies I may have been able to suborn. But it’s becoming harder to scout out his territories; his sentries are . . . formidable.”
Caedmon’s eyes found the walking mountains again.
Yeah, I guessed so.
Dorina’s troll lurched into some stacks of crates, spun, and lurched the other way.
Caedmon sighed.
“So, Efridis brought you here because?” I asked.
“She told me what I wanted to hear, that she was finally willing to give over her husband, and help us in the war. She told Aeslinn the same thing in reverse: that she’d only betrayed him in order to gain my confidence, so that she could deliver me to him. She knew it was the only thing that would get him out from behind his palace walls: the chance to kill me personally. In reality, she intends to blow us both up, leaving the throne of each kingdom vacant.”
“So her son can take over.”
He nodded. “We are not easy to kill, Aeslinn and I. But this”—he glanced around—“will probably do it.”
“And Alfhild gets revenge for what your ancestor did to her.”
“Yes. It seems they found common ground in my death.”
Great. Good to know. I wondered if it was a bad sign that the hard stone beneath me was starting to feel good, comfortable even. I closed my eyes, just for a moment. . . .
“Dory! Don’t go to
sleep!”
“Yes, don’t nap now. You’ll miss it,” Efridis said, turning around. She had to be thirty yards away, but I suppose those ears are good for something. And then Dorina was flying back to me, as the troll took a knife in the gut courtesy of Louis-Cesare.
Like I was about to.
“Stop!” I said desperately. “Stop! You—you’re killing your own brother, because you want your son to rule? Why not just wait?”
“Wait?” She paused politely.
