“—really exists?” Immerez was asking.

“There are sources that suggest that this being does exist, chosen by one of your gods.”

Immerez laughed. “They’re not my gods, not anymore now that I am sworn to the one God.”

“Yes, my friend, of course. Let me say one of your former gods then. The aspect of death called Westrion. It is said he chooses one, a human, to be his voice and presence on Earth when in need, to keep the dead in check, and dark beings, in particular, trapped beyond the portal. The avatar can communicate with and command the dead. I think I saw her once in a vision. I was in Blackveil, gazing into the fire, when she appeared clad in strange armor and a winged helm. She rode as a dark angel astride the death god’s stallion.”

The description created an image in Zachary’s mind, recalling something from a dream. He was caught in the vision for some time and missed a portion of conversation between Immerez and Grandmother.

“So, when you reach the seal . . .” Immerez mused.

“Westrion’s avatar, if the sources are correct, will have no choice but to appear.”

“Thus your knitting.”

“Thus my knitting.”

Portals and gods and avatars and knitting . . . Dreams, or just his hurt, foggy head trying to make sense of words? He faded out again, and when he briefly resurfaced, heard Grandmother say, “—tomorrow to go meet with General Birch.”

“I look forward to it,” Immerez replied. “I will see you in the morning.”

• • •

“How are we doing?”

Zachary blinked against gray light as the compress was pulled away from his eyes. Everything was a blur. “I feel like I’ve been buried in an avalanche.”

Varius, the mender, chuckled. “Not surprising. I’ll give you a minute, and then let’s see if you can drink a little.”

As Zachary thought about it, he did not feel as bad as he might have, and he was soon able to focus on Varius. The mender helped him sip water.

“Grandmother was furious last night when she heard about the fight,” Varius said. “It was a breach of discipline and not the sort of thing she tolerates. She was not pleased one of her best workers got damaged. For punishment, the organizers of the fight, including Mace, are being made to move rocks today.” He sounded amused, and Zachary had to admit that he was, too.

He tentatively touched the bridge of his nose and his temple. There was swelling and pain.

“You were bad enough that Grandmother used a healing spell,” Varius said. “Mace’s iron knuckles cracked bone. It should be mended, but the rest of the healing will have to be done the conventional way.”

“Why would she heal a slave?” Zachary asked, genuinely surprised.

“She needs good workers, and you are one. When a slave is seriously hurt or sick, she will do what she can. She is determined to get that passage dug out.”

Zachary was glad to know he had not been singled out. It meant she had not guessed his true identity.

“She never heard the rest of my story,” he said, “of how I ended up with the groundmites.”

Varius shrugged. “She has had other things on her mind of late.”

“She’s going someplace . . .”

“Went,” Varius replied. “You rest while you can. They’ll want you back hauling stone before you’re ready.”

The keep’s great hall remained quiet through the day, with no sign of Fiori or Immerez about. He took advantage of the opportunity to rest, receiving a bite to eat at midday, and a cooling compress for his head. It was miraculous he was not feeling worse, and he enjoyed the dark irony of having received healing from his arch enemy.

As the shadows deepened with dusk, Varius came to him again. “I am sorry to say, for your sake, that it is time for you to return to the workers quarters.”

Zachary had expected this and rose from his pallet with Varius’ assistance. He walked unsteadily from the keep to the building that housed his fellow slaves, escorted by a sullen guard. When he stepped inside, he was met with silence. Everyone stared at him.

Finally, Binning rose to his feet and said, “You’re alive. We thought you was dead for sure. You look like all five hells, lad, but you’re alive.”

Binning brought him over to where Lorilie’s group sat, and helped him down. “Glad to see you’re all right, too,” Zachary told him.

“After that Mace clobbered you, the chief guard found out what was going on and lit into the others over it.”

“We heard Grandmother was displeased,” Lorilie said, a small smile on her lips. “There were guards carrying rocks with us all day.”

Mockery of the guards followed, for they had been hardly able to keep up with the work without passing out. When the evening soup was ready, Binning fetched Zachary a bowl. It grew quiet as people ate, and Zachary considered telling Lorilie what Grandmother was after, or what he thought she was after. He figured there was no reason to withhold the information and so told the little group all about it.

“She is after a portal to the hells?” Lorilie asked.

“That seems to be what she has us trying to dig up,” he replied.

“She doesn’t even believe in our gods,” Pitkin protested.

Binning said, “Don’t mean they don’t exist. Lotsa strange stuff has been happening the last few years.”

“Wouldn’t releasing these demons hurt her own people, too?” someone asked.