The Heir of Night by Helen Lowe Page B

to pin Malian’s life and the future of Night.”
    “We cannot afford to wait for the worst to happen,” Korriya said urgently. “We must act.”
    “What can we do,” the Earl returned, “except what we already intend, to regroup and then search the Old Keep, room by room, floor by floor? But we
must
have wyr hounds, for by the Nine, that place is an absolute warren and Asantir is right—we no longer have the numbers to take it on.”
    “Or the powers,” said the priestess, under her breath. She straightened, speaking carefully. “If it is simply a matter of numbers, then despite last night’s losses there are still those in the Temple quarter who can aid the search…. If you will allow it.”
    “But is it simply numbers?” asked Asantir, before the Earl could reply. “What of the Raptor of Darkness? Is it dead, or simply fled? And if it has fled, then where is it? We also know that at least some of the invaders retreated into the Old Keep. What we don’t know is how many others remained there as rearguard, or what Darkswarm sorceries they may still unleash against us. We do not know who leads them, or what their objective is. As for those from your Temple quarter, do you have any idea how they will react under pressure, let alone under fire?”
    Korriya held up one hand, color tingeing her tired face. “I did say if it was
only
numbers, Captain,” she said. “As for the rest, I do not think that the Raptor is dead. It fled and it was badly weakened by the Golden Fire, but I cannot swear that it is incapable of troubling us again. Nor can I be certain that we would fare better against it wounded than we did against its full strength. It is likely, however, that we could at least detect its presence—and that of any other darkspawn in the Old Keep.”
    “But not,” said Asantir, “protect us against them, I think?”
    The priestess shook her head. “Our powers of protection are limited, as we discovered last night when we were so direly overmatched.” Grief and shame flicked for a moment, raw in her expression.
    “We were all overmatched last night,” the Earl told her. “Our wards failed, we were taken by surprise, both by the attack and its execution, and the cost in beating it back was very high. And it will be higher yet. The morale of Night will suffer, our prestige in the Derai Alliance will be affected, and we will not be able to say that we have finally defeated our enemy until we can secure the Old Keep as well as the New, which may take years.”
    Korriya looked from his grim, weary face to Asantir’s impassive one. “I see,” she said. “Then it is even more important that I offer help, however limited our powers.”
    The Earl shook his head. “The offer is meaningless, given the Oath that binds us all and cannot be undone. The gates between the Temple quarter and the main keep may be broken, but it will take a far greater power to bridge the schism that sealed them fast, separating Temple from keep and warrior from priest.”
    “To our bitter cost,” she replied, “as last night proved.”
    “Perhaps,” he said, but he was looking at the fire rather than at her. “Nonetheless, my duty now is to rebuild the strength and confidence of Night, not undermine it further.”
    “There is no greater threat to Night, in this moment, than not finding and securing the Heir.” Korriya’s voice was low but edged. “You are a fool, Tasarion, if you will not see it!”
    The Earl did look at her then. “Do not presume too far, Priestess,” he said, bleak as the day. “The Blood Oath binds us all, exactly like the Right of Kin and Blood that brought you here today. Given your news, I am not ungrateful that you invoked that right and I am aware that your advice has merit. But make no mistake, you are still here on sufferance. It is I, together with my councilors, who weigh threats to Night and decide on them, no one else.”
    There was stark silence while their eyes held, the one cold and