“How can this be?” he whispered to her in shock.
She shook her head slowly, staring out at the clean, empty expanse with him. “I don’t know.”
He glanced back over his shoulder. There was no sign of the Mwellrets. “What do we do now?” he asked.
She looked about momentarily, then took his hand in hers once more. “Follow me. Don’t speak, don’t do anything but what I do. Don’t run, whatever happens.”
Still holding tightly to his hand, she squared her slender shoulders, and walked out into the maze.
His shock was complete, and perhaps that was why he went with her without protest. Fighting down a surge of fear and horror that crowded into his throat, his eyes cast right and left for creepers and his skin prickled as he waited for the fire threads to burn him. She penetrated only a few yards into the deadly square before turning aside to skirt its edges, moving carefully across the metal flooring, staying clear of the shadows and well out into the bright sunlight. They moved as one, making no sound, no unnecessary movement, not speaking, barely breathing. Ahren thought he was a dead man already, but in an act of faith that surprised him completely, he gave himself over to the seer.
What surprised him even more was that nothing happened. They worked their way just inside the perimeter of the maze until they were about a quarter of the distance around, almost even with the northern facing of the dark tower that dominated its center. Once there, the seer led him just outside again into a deeply shadowed concealment formed by what remained of the walls and roofing of a collapsed building that abutted the square.
Atop a pile of rubble that looked out through a narrow gap in a wall on the landscape through which they had come, they crouched and waited.
“Why weren’t we attacked?” he asked in a whisper, still cautious, pressing close to her slender form, his lips brushing her hair. “Because what wards the tower attacks only when there is a perceived threat to its security.” Her violet eyes glistened as she turned to look at him. “Walker was a threat, so it attacked him first and then the rest of us. Had we bypassed the square and the tower, we would have been safe.”
He stared at her. “How do you know this?” Her pale, youthful face turned away. “I dreamed it,” she answered quietly. “In a vision, in my search for Walker.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time after that, mulling over her words while watching the ruins for signs of movement. Where were the Mwellrets? Why hadn’t they appeared?
“Do you think Tamis found any of the others?” he asked finally. “Did you see what became of them after we were attacked? What about Quentin Leah’s group?”
She shook her head wordlessly. Her eyes remained directed away from him, out toward the city. He studied her carefully. “They’re all dead, aren’t they? You’ve dreamed that, as well.” “Not Walker Boh,” she said softly.
Before he could press her further, he caught sight of the Mwellrets moving through the ruins, dark forms sliding along walls and across empty spaces, little more than an extension of the shadows to which they clung. Ryer Ord Star gripped his arm anew, and she pressed against him in warning or, perhaps, in reassurance. He held himself still, his former composure regained at least in part from having survived yesterday’s attack and the return. He did not feel in the least invincible, but neither did he feel quite so vulnerable either. What he had lost in the attack that had claimed his friends had been restored in small part by his tightrope walk with the seer back through the maze to this hiding place. Before, he had thought that any kind of survival was momentary at best and undeserved. Now, he believed he might still be alive for a reason, that he might be alive because there was something he could accomplish.
Ryer Ord Star leaned close to him, her face almost touching his. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, as if to keep him calm and in place. “They won’t find us.”