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She looked at her bloody blade. Davoren's fire died down and burned out. That ring of fire could have been used to save them before they'd even come to this place. All of them.

The band of seven coughed and wheezed in the dusty silence

Taslin was the first to break the quiet. "Asson!" she cried, falling to her knees beside the battered old man. His foot had become a pool of blood. She slipped into a healing chant, laying her hands upon Asson's forehead.

Slip scurried to the fallen mage and, bypassing chants and ritual, sent a flow of healing into him. Asson shivered, gave a ragged cough, and started breathing more regularly. Taslin looked at her, startled, but nodded in thanks.

Davoren groaned and rose. His face was shredded-three furrows ran from lip to brow. His eye had been spared by the space of a few lashes. "Don't all bow at once."

"What're you talking about?" Slip asked… 'Twas my power that saved you all," Davoren growled. "Have you forgotten?"

No reply arose from any of them.

Twilight stared at the fallen wight that had wounded Davoren. Her eyes went to its dropped battle-axe, then back to its agony-stricken face. She heard rasping-not like breathing, but more like growls through a shredded throat. Then the thing moved, she thought, itching one great hand toward its weapon. "Lie," it said. "Lie."

Twilight shook.

"Oh… look." Davoren grinned. He lifted one gray hand toward the ceiling and fire, red like blood, danced along his fingers. He snapped the hand down, and the wight's head exploded, spattering Twilight's face. She didn't flinch-just watched him die again.

" 'Light?" a hand closed on her elbow. "Are you well?"

"Away from me!" She threw Liet off. The youth staggered back, stunned.

Davoren smiled and gave her a look as pointed as his teeth.

What seemed the length of a bell later, Twilight sat on one of the sarcophagi in the empty room, spinning Betrayal's hilt between her hands. The steel made a soft hiss against the stone. It was vaguely comforting.

Slip and Taslin had seen to healing the others. Gargan and Asson required the most attention, having taken grievous injuries. Asson had lost one of his feet and was coughing and retching horribly. For his part, Gargan had borne the brunt of the wights' fury, and though he said nothing, the goliath could barely stay upright from fatigue and weakness.

Taslin could heal wounds, but she did not have the magic to restore a damaged spirit-to wipe away the wights' touch. The halfling was remarkable in her healing, seeming able to cast any of the sacred spells she desired as she needed them. The others found this curious, but none questioned. They were just pleased to be alive.

Asson needed much healing, and his old body hadn't done well. Nothing could cure his stump of a leg. If he had limped and breathed heavily before, he would be a wreck to travel with in his current condition. Taslin bore him shakily to the wall, where he could rest, then knelt at his side for a long while, patting his hand.

Meekly, Liet crept up to sit with Twilight, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"The way you distracted that wight just by shouting," Twilight said without looking. "How did you manage that? Latent magical talent? Favored of a god?"

"I know not," Liet said with a shrug.

Twilight listened closely. It was not a lie.

"My thanks," said the youth after a moment.

"For what?"

"Saving my life," he said.

Twilight bristled. Whether it was resentment at the risk that saving him had brought her, or embarrassment that the others were watching, or annoyance because it was too easy to hear his gratitude, she couldn't say. Twilight looked at him venomously. "It's what you asked of me, isn't it?"

Liet's eyes widened and he stood up. Whether out of respect or hurt, he made no sign, After a breath, he padded away.

"You're hurt," came a soft, feminine voice, startling Twilight. She looked up and Taslin stood before her, her hands folded at her waist. Of course the sun would come to see if she needed healing.