The alderman failed to hide his eagerness to have it, though he tried. For a moment he hesitated and in his glance was calculation: of distance and his chances of avoiding an arrow if he jumped to grab the stone.
Seeing the look, Waldroup told him, “You won’t make it.”
Stroud scowled at him, but his eyes were still drawn to the stone.
Waldroup pointed the arrow at his knees again, and Stroud answered quickly, “It’s called an ördstone.”
“It cuts open a way between here and Ailfion?”
“Does it? I’ve no idea,” Stroud feigned.
“Do you ever speak without lying? I thought the fae had to tell the truth.”
“Ha-ha! You people invent such tales.”
Thomas said, “You used it to open the way when you took my brother. I watched you.”
The alderman calmly explained, “Your brother volunteered for the greater good.”
“No, he never,” said Thomas.
“We were going to take you but he told us how worthless you were, that you couldn’t even hold a thought in your head.”
“He didn’t! He never would have!” His eyes teared.
“It should have been you, shouldn’t it?” the alderman said. “You’ve thought that every day ever since. You know it’s true.”
Waldroup took a step and pinned the point of his arrow against Stroud’s cheek. “That’s just about enough of that if you don’t want to die here and now. Whose greater good did he sacrifice for?”
The alderman turned his face, looked again at the motionless hand extending from the farthest vault. “I’ve answered your questions. Now let me go. Both my arms are gone numb. I’m wounded, I’m dying. I can’t hurt you.”
“Can’t you?” asked Waldroup. With his head he gestured to Thomas, who picked up his fallen bow. Sparks danced before his eyes when he raised up again, and he leaned against the vault for support before he took aim at Stroud.
Waldroup turned, saying, “Watch him. I’ll be only a moment.” He walked to the half-open vault at the far end.
Thomas said, “I know you’re lying about Onchu. You had no qualms about tormenting my sister, you and Baldie.”
Stroud gazed at him as at a simpleton. “Oh, you refer to the changeling? That is nothing so special. There are many, many of those. They are how we populate our world, especially when your like harm an Yvagvoja. You owe us another even now.” He watched Waldroup leaning over the side of the fourth vault, licked his lips. “If you gave me that ördstone, boy, why, I could take you there and you could see your brother again. Ask him yourself if he didn’t dissuade us from picking you. You could join him in paradise.”
“You knew us, both of us. You’ve known my family for years. But you didn’t hesitate to destroy Innes.”
Stroud shook his head sadly. “Not how it was at all. She had a most difficult birth, nothing to do with us. The baby . . . was stillborn. We protected her from that knowledge, giving her something to believe in, and removing the infant from this world. The midwife—”
“You stole my brother from this world.”
“He was the teind!” Stroud snarled. “Chosen, do you understand? We needed him! He died as an offering that we immortals may all live on.”
“Died?” The word caught in Thomas’s throat. He had almost believed the alderman’s enticement that he might see Onchu again. It was clear from Stroud’s expression now that he’d said more than he’d intended.
So at last Thomas knew: Onchu would never be rescued by him. He drew the string taut on the bow. “I think I want to hear no more from you.”
Even before he’d spoken, the alderman had begun humming, very softly, a queer tune that wormed into Thomas’s brain. The chirring pressure was back and the tune became a murmur flowing from him, but did his lips move at all? It did not seem so, but the murmur, the sound, became whispered words echoing in his head: “Wait, now, wait. Listen to me, listen to my voice, Thomas Rimor. Listen and let it calm you, soothe you. Soothe you, calm you.” He made a shushing sound like wind in reeds, the sound the Queen had made a thousand years ago.
With effort the alderman rose up. He snatched a glance at Waldroup, who had his back to them as he worked the lid back onto the vault.
Thomas swayed where he stood. The string relaxed in his fingers. They uncurled. The arrow tipped.
“I promise you power and wealth, Thomas Rimor—just let me in, let me possess you for a minute. Your family already is the equal of Balthair’s. Now that he’s gone your sister inherits all. You’ll own land on both sides of Ercildoun as it grows. Your mind which troubles you, it has almost healed in the three years of your wandering—”
“Not healed, the Queen’s gift,” he muttered. Brow knitted, he swung his head to drive out the webs entangling it.
“Nicnevin?” The alderman spoke her name in surprise, spoke it aloud.
“She . . . stilled me.”
Stroud wasted no time in capitalizing on this new information. “There. See you how kind we are, Thomas Rimor? Not the villains you’d have us be. You have misinterpreted all you’ve seen. Your brother understood us. Let me in and you will be stilled again, you will sleep in dreamlessness, no fits, no—”
“Where is the knife?” called Waldroup. He had quietly come around the pillars and now stood in the middle of the crypt, behind the alderman. “I left it in your shoulder, man. Where is it now?”
Stroud continued to stare at Thomas as he answered with sham weakness. “It must have worked loose, fallen when I . . . ran.” And silently for Thomas only: “Come, son. I’ve always called you son, remember? Now, the one you should kill is the one who brought you here.” Stroud backed aside so that Thomas faced Waldroup. He pointed, and his unspoken words swelled in Thomas’s head. “Kill him. Kill the one who brought you here.”
“Stop moving about now,” Waldroup said. He raised his own bow at the alderman.
Thomas quaked with the effort of fighting the alderman’s ensorcellment. The words compelled him. The pressure pounded inside his head again. Brought me here. The power behind the words like vines grew tight, encircling him with confusion.
He stumbled back, and he was aiming now at Waldroup, watching as though he and his body had parted ways, while his fingers trembled at the cord.
“Little brother, what’s this?” Waldroup said, confused.
