The Palace of Glass (6 page)

She found herself in a dark space, blessedly cool compared to the hellish scene she'd left. This was a relief—she'd been expecting something even
worse
—and she took a few moments just to breathe and let her feet cool against what felt like gritty rock. The air was still tinged with the scent of sulfur, but without that choking, nasty smoke. After a while, Alice began to realize it was not merely comfortable but actually chilly, and she fumbled her shoes and socks back on.

Letting go of the Swarm, she called on the devilfish, summoning a ghostly green glow around her hands. She was in a roughly circular tunnel, which stretched into darkness in one direction and dead-ended behind her in
a chaotic jumble of fallen rock. Set among the tumbled stones was a portal-book, identical to the one she'd just opened.

Only one way to go, then.
Alice took a moment to shrug into her coat.
No percentage in hanging about.

She set off down the tunnel at a brisk walk, hand held aloft to light her way. For all that it was almost perfectly circular, it didn't feel like a man-made space. The passage twisted and turned, apparently at random, though the general trend seemed to be downward. There were no forks or side passages. Alice, feeling with her new senses, couldn't find the strange, slippery fabric that would have meant she was in a labyrinth.

Just because it's not a labyrinth doesn't mean it's not dangerous, of course.
Ending had said the fire-sprites had some sort of agreement with Geryon, but hadn't given her much else to go on.
First I need to
find
them. Getting their help comes after—

The sound, a grinding, crunching noise like someone chewing a mouthful of ice, gave her a split second of warning. Something shifted off to her left, and she turned her head in time to see a whole section of the rock wall come apart, dust billowing toward her in a cloud that stung her eyes. Alice backpedaled, one hand coming up to
protect her face, and at the same time she instinctively wrapped the Swarm thread around herself, just before something big and heavy came through the still-swirling dust and slammed into her with the force of a boulder.

Alice was lifted off her feet and smashed against the opposite wall in a collision that would have shattered the bones of a normal girl. In this case, it was the wall that gave way, rock cracking behind her with a rumbling clatter, and she was suddenly falling. A moment later, she and her assailant landed hard and skidded across the stony ground.

That,
Alice thought,
is
quite
enough of that
.

There was still too much dust in the air to get a clear look at her attacker, but she could feel the thing, sitting on top of her with the weight of a pile of rocks. The Swarm kept her from being squished, but it didn't make it any easier to breathe, and she was beginning to feel light-headed. She yanked Spike's thread around her as well, feeling the dinosaur's strength in her limbs. She gathered her legs under the thing and kicked out with both feet, sending it tumbling through the air to slam against another wall in an explosion of rock shards.

Breathing hard, Alice got up. She'd let the devilfish thread slip away in the confusion, but the chamber was
lit by a dull red glow that seemed to be coming from her opponent. Amid the billows of dust, she caught sight of a big, dog-like form, shoulders level with her chest. Instead of fur, the thing had lumpy, bulbous black stuff that looked more like rock than skin. It had two heads, side by side on a thick, stumpy neck. The glow came from each mouth and each set of eyes, as though the creature were lit by internal fires.

It had righted itself by the time she got to her feet, and
emitted a low, threatening growl like two stones scraping together. Alice stood her ground, spread her feet a little wider, and waited.

She expected it to charge again, going for her throat like the wolves she'd fought in Torment's palace. Instead, it came forward in quick dashes, pulling up short each time for another round of growling. The light inside it got steadily brighter. Alice worked out what was happening just in time to dive sideways as one glowing mouth opened wide to unleash a torrent of flames, lapping over the ground where she'd been standing.

The second head tracked her, preparing to do the same. Alice could see keeping her distance was not going to work. She pulled harder on the Swarm thread, triggering the transformation, and in mid-roll she disintegrated into a mass of tumbling, bouncing swarmers. Confused, the creature backed up a step before breathing another sheet of fire in her direction. The swarmers charged, slipping beneath the flames,
quirking
as stray sparks settled in their thick fur. They ran past the fire-creature, around and behind it, and melted together again into a very cross Alice.

“That,” she said, aloud this time, “is
enough
!”

She grabbed the thing's back legs and lifted. It was
heavy, but Spike's strength was prodigious. Alice pivoted on one bare foot like a shot-putter, hoisting the rocky creature into the air. She spun in a half circle, building up momentum, then let go. The thing flew across the room and smashed into a wall with a clatter like colliding billiard balls, sliding to the ground amid a new cloud of dust.

Alice waited, panting, to see if it would get up again. The red glow flickered, then grew brighter again, and she saw the dim outline of the dog-thing climbing back to its feet. She frowned.

“You don't know when to give up, do you?” Alice stalked forward, rock chill against her bare feet—transforming, as always, had left her shoes behind—and raised her hands. “Come on. Let's get this over with—”

“No!”

Alice stopped in surprise. Another figure, this one humanoid and close to her own size, had appeared from nowhere and put itself between her and the dog-thing. It held a long, black spear, tipped with a dangerous-looking glass shard, which it leveled directly at Alice's throat.

“No!” the thing said again. “Leave him alone,
Reader
!”

FLICKER

A
LICE PULLED U
P SHORT
and called on the devilfish for more light. The dust was clearing, giving her a better look at the person standing opposite her.

He was slim and pale-skinned, wearing only a pair of ragged shorts. Though he had long hair and fine, androgynous features, Alice decided she thought he was a boy. If he'd been human, she would have guessed he was close to her own age. His eyes shone a deep red from within, but it was the brilliance of his hair that held her attention.

To say that it
glowed
wasn't doing it justice. It shone like liquid fire. It wasn't a solid red, but a shifting mass of color, crimson and orange and yellow, swirling and flickering around one another in a never-ending dance.
It lit up the tunnel just as real fire would have, the light rising and falling, clashing with the cold green glow of the devilfish.

He was breathing hard, letting out little puffs of steam, and his hands were tight on the shaft of his shaking spear.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” she said. He ought to be able to understand her. Geryon had explained that the magic of Readers allowed them to communicate with practically anything.

“You were hurting Ishi.” The spear-point wavered a little.

“Ishi? That's your . . . pet?” Alice said. The boy—a fire-sprite, surely—nodded. “It attacked me. I didn't mean to hurt it.”

“He . . . didn't know it was you.” The spear dropped a fraction. “You're not supposed to be up here. No one is. When we heard something moving around, we thought . . .”

The fire-sprite chewed his lower lip, trying to look down at the dog-thing and up at Alice at the same time. Alice let her hands fall.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” she repeated. “Why don't you put the spear down and see if Ishi is all right?”

With one last, suspicious glance at Alice, the boy turned
away, kneeling beside the dog-thing. The tough, rocky creature was already on its feet, and the fire-sprite patted its two heads. Alice went to retrieve her boots, which were lying where she'd changed into the Swarm. The flames had singed them a little, but she was pleased to see they were mostly intact. The same could not be said for her pack, which had torn open in the fall and spilled food everywhere. She managed to tie it all up again with a few more knots and gathered everything that hadn't been ruined.

When she turned back to the fire-sprite, the boy was on his feet again, staring at Alice but not actually pointing his spear at her. She supposed that counted as an improvement.

“Ishi's all right,” he said, “luckily for you.”

“I'm glad I didn't hurt him,” Alice said. “I'm Alice. What's your name?”

“Flicker.” The boy peered at her. “You're not the Reader who usually comes, are you? Geryon.”

Alice couldn't see how anyone could think that she and Geryon were the least bit similar, but she let this pass. “No. I'm his apprentice.”

“Oh.” Flicker's expression darkened again. “You should have sent a message ahead. Nobody ever comes up here anymore. You could've gotten lost.”

“I'm sorry,” Alice said. “I'm glad I ran into you, then.”

“I'm not,” Flicker said, and sighed. “With all this noise, there's no chance of catching the bluechill now. I had better take you back to see Pyros. Come on.”

Flicker led her at a quick pace, padding barefoot through the cold, rocky tunnels. However much Flicker's hair
looked
like fire, it certainly didn't shed any warmth. Ishi stayed by his side, keeping well away from Alice, which felt a bit unfair.
He attacked me first, after all.
They entered an area where the passages showed definite signs of being adapted for habitation—the curved floors had been flattened, and there were arched doorways leading to chambers on either side. It all looked disused, though, and a thick layer of black dust covered everything. Here and there rocks had fallen from the ceiling and lay scattered on the floor. Every passage sloped down, as though they were descending into the heart of the world.

Her guide seemed determined to be uncommunicative. He directed her with grunts and gestures, as though he begrudged every word. If she was going to secure the fire-sprites' help, Alice decided, it was up to her to begin the conversation.

“Ishi is your pet?” she asked again.

Flicker looked over his shoulder, his expression pained. Since he'd decided she wasn't about to attack him, a kind of arrogant disdain had replaced his fear, as though he could hardly be bothered to talk to her. Alice could have understood a little irritation—after all, she was the intruder here—but this seemed uncalled for.
He could at least be polite.

“He's my friend,” the fire-sprite said, after a pause long enough to be insulting. “I wouldn't expect you to understand.”

Alice wanted to argue but decided to let it pass. Instead she said, “If this area is abandoned, what were the two of you doing here?”

“Tracking the bluechill.” He slammed the butt of his spear on the ground irritably. “We would have found it too, if you hadn't gotten in the way.”

“I'm sorry,” Alice said. “I expect you'll get another chance to catch it.”

Flicker pulled up short and rounded on her, his red eyes blazing a bright hue. Yellow streaks flickered and danced in his mesmerizing, ever-shifting hair, as if responding to his emotions. His voice had a strange undertone, a crackling like the roar of a distant fire.

“The bluechill is a
monster,
” he said. “It killed three
people last night and hurt a lot more. I
expect
I'll get another chance to catch it, yes, the next time it gets hungry. Assuming it doesn't pick me for dinner.”

Ishi growled, picking up on Flicker's mood.

“I'm sorry,” Alice said. “I didn't know—”

“Why should you?” Flicker snapped. “You're a Reader. You're just here to collect your precious tribute.”

“I'm not—”

But the fire-sprite had already turned away, stomping around a corner with the dog-thing at his heels. Alice followed hurriedly, and they entered another long, downward-sloping corridor. The air grew perceptibly warmer as they went along, and at the far end a metal door was set into the rock. Another fire-sprite, tall and broad-shouldered, stood beside it with a black spear in his hand.

“I lost the bluechill,” Flicker said, by way of introduction. “But I found the Reader. Pyros will want to see her.”

“He wants to see you too,” the guard said, staring openly at Alice.

Flicker muttered something under his breath, a sound like the sharp pop of a log on the hearth. “Come on, then, Reader. This way.”

“My name is Alice,” said Alice. “Not Reader.”

Flicker didn't respond, and the guard dragged the door open with a creaking of old hinges. Alice followed the boy through, into the village of the fire-sprites.

While she'd encountered any number of beasts and monsters in her travels through the library and its books, Alice hadn't met many intelligent magical creatures, and hadn't had much opportunity to see the way they lived. There had been the needle-elves who'd nearly devoured her and Isaac, but she'd been too focused on getting herself out alive to really pay much attention.

Here, she felt like a tourist, wandering through a strange country and gawking at the native customs. The arched doorways here were covered by cloth or beaded curtains, and stone and glass tools were stacked neatly in corners. Confections of black glass hung from the walls, teased out into thin strings and elaborately interwoven and braided. They were beautiful, especially in the shifting light from Flicker's hair. Alice wasn't sure if they were decorative or had some more practical function.

Fire-sprites were everywhere, in the corridor or visible through doorways. Most were larger than Flicker, the size of human adults, and though they all had the same long, liquid-fire hair, Alice did not see any women among them.
I wonder if they live separately.
She'd heard
of places on Earth where things were done that way.

There were children too, running and playing in a way that was not too dissimilar from human children, although once or twice Alice saw them kicking around tiny balls of fire as humans might toss a beanbag. They stopped their games as soon as they saw Alice and stared in wonder. The adults watched her too, but there was less awe and more anger in their glowing eyes. She could understand the curiosity—after all, with her leather coat and her dull, flame-less hair, she was probably just as odd to them as they were to her—but she wondered about the rage. She thought about asking Flicker, but before she got the chance, a little fire-sprite emerged from a doorway and wrapped him in a hug.

“Flicker! Are you okay?”

Flicker hugged the newcomer back and ran a hand through his hair affectionately. “I'm all right.”

“I was so worried.” The other fire-sprite pulled away slightly. He was shorter and thinner than Flicker, with a blue tint to his hair at the edges. “Pyros was very angry with you.”

“I'll handle Pyros.”

“Did you find the bluechill?” the smaller sprite said excitedly. “Did you kill it?”

Flicker shook his head. “I ran into this instead.” He hooked a thumb at Alice. “I need to take her to Pyros.”

The fire-sprite looked at Alice and blinked in confusion. “The Reader?”

“It's not the same one,” Flicker said. “The old one was taller, and had hair on his face, remember?”

“This one must be a runt, then.” The smaller sprite came up close, goggle-eyed, like someone peering into an aquarium.

“Actinia!” Flicker barked. “Stay out of her way.”

“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.