An Artificial Night

“There’s always a choice, Quentin. I told you I’d take care of it.”


“You didn’t even care that I love her! How was I supposed to trust you to bring her home?” He looked at me, expression pained. “I had to.”

“Quentin . . .”

“I know you’re a hero. Does that mean no one else gets to even try?”

“I’m not a—”

“You can deny it. I don’t care. Do you even care anymore about what happens? Or are you just here because you think you have to be?”

“Quentin, are you seriously standing with me in the middle of Blind Michael’s realm and asking if I care? Because if you are, you need serious help.”

“Do you really want to know what she charged me?”

Narrowing my eyes, I nodded. “Tell me.”

“Fine.” His face was filled with a grim determination that I recognized even as I tried to reject it. “I get out with you. Not before, not after; with.” He paused before adding, more softly, “Not without.”

I stared at him. “That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not kidding. That was the price for her showing me how to follow you. She gave me my passage in, but I don’t get out without you. You’re my ticket home.” His chin was set, making him look very young, and very scared. “I’m on the Children’s Road, just like you, but I don’t have a candle. I have to make it home by the light of yours.”

“Oh, root and branch.” I stared at him, fighting to keep my hands from shaking. “That’s what you agreed to? That’s what you paid?”

“That’s what she asked for,” he said. “I didn’t have anything else.”

“So you came to save Katie without knowing whether or not I was alive.”

“And because you needed me.” He looked at me, expression an odd combination of determination and hope. “You do need me, you know.”

I paused, and then nodded, slowly. “You’re right. I need you.” I offered him my hand. “Come on. Let’s go.” After a moment, he slid his hand into mine, squeezing my fingers. I smiled at him, and we turned together, stepping out of the shadow of the woods.

And then we stopped, staring.

The landscape had shifted, but the changes weren’t apparent until we left the shelter of the trees. The mountains were barely a half mile away, glowing purple-gray against the sky. I could see the rough shapes of Blind Michael’s halls scattered around the base of the mountain like abandoned building blocks. They all seemed to have shattered walls or broken turrets, outward signs of their decay.

Quentin’s fingers tightened on mine as he asked, “Is that—?”

“It’s Blind Michael’s place,” I said. “Come on.” I took note of the location of the one solid building—it would make a good prison—and then we started across the plains.

I never want to have another hour like the one that followed. We crept across the ground like invading soldiers, trying to stay low. The light of my candle offered some protection, but I didn’t know if it could cover us both, and I didn’t want to find out what would happen if we pushed it too far. Spike raced ahead in a blur of gray and green, waiting behind each new obstacle until we caught up. Quentin had taken the first steps toward knighthood in Sylvester’s Court; he knew how to be silent and patient. My training has been less formal, but it’s had a lot of the same results, and I can keep my peace when I need to. Somehow, trying to hide in plain sight in the lands of a mad Firstborn was really driving that need home.

We stopped when we reached the walls of the first building, sliding behind a pair of water barrels and sinking to the ground. The wall was hot, like there was a fire-place behind it. “All right; here’s the plan,” I said, voice pitched low. “The kids are in one of these buildings. We find them, we grab them, and we go.”