48. They Take a Lantern and Say a Farewell

The lantern sped along the Passage, light flashing, white birds chasing it. Ahead of them, Grey Tower was a faint shape in the winter mist. The great flock had settled on the roofs of the cloisters, though dim motes still swirled around the five turrets of Grey's crown. As the lantern raced, scarlet banners flew around the base of Black. Another army had joined the fray—from Red Tower. The forces of Obsidian and Ebony, caught between the Reds and the Sparrows, collapsed in disarray.

Hawthorn kept up a steady whistle, but under that sound, her heart was thumping so that she could hardly hear herself. She could not think of the fighting, only what lay ahead. It was coming. Her moment was coming. Every Guardian was trained for it; none of them wanted to live to see it.

Among their everyday facts about horses and hens and fish, the Bestiaries recorded every appearance of the Beast. It was different each time. Would she see the vast serpent that ended the Hellebores? Or the six-headed vulture that ended the Lilies? Or the cloud, flashing scarlet lightning, that ended the first Lady of Grey? Legend said it took a shape of meaning fearsome to the one who opposed it; for a moment, Hawthorn saw her master's dying face. If it came in that form, she would not be able to slay it.

The Beast would arise in Grey. The West Passage was its only outlet to the rest of the palace. If it left the Passage, it would cause untold destruction. Therefore, the goal was to vanquish it while it was still there, still weak. That was why the Guardians lived in Grey.

Even coming upon it in a weakened state would not help much. A Guardian was trained to fight, but under all that training was the knowledge that sparring with your master would never prepare you for battling an abomination from beneath the earth. It taught you how to feint and dodge, but it would not in itself protect you. Even if you had the steel, something could still go wrong.

The steel. Hawthorn had forgotten that she'd asked the beekeepers to fetch it from Grey. If they had planned to go, they would have been prevented from setting out by the battle between the Ladies, which surely had been going on for some time. At worst, they would have reached Grey and not been able to return. There was every likelihood the steel was still there. If it was not, well, Hawthorn could not allow herself to contemplate the possibility. If there was no steel, a Lady could perhaps defeat the Beast, but what Lady could reach it in time?

Frin had fallen asleep. The poor thing was probably exhausted. After all, he'd been through a lot more physical strain than Hawthorn herself had. She stopped whistling. Her cheeks were tired, and she didn't want to disturb his sleep.

Opening the lantern door, she leaned out and looked into the Passage. They had not gone as far as she had hoped. The detritus of the nightly feasts still spread beneath them, albeit its outer fringes. There was no sign of jackals. Perhaps they had run to Grey with the birds, or maybe they'd fled in the opposite direction. Was there anything left of Sparrow now? It wasn't right to leave them. The women in grey might know what to do.

Something boomed behind the lantern. The battle apparently had not ended. Hawthorn resumed whistling.

Though the sides of the Passage were intact, the tremors had warped and bent the track. The lantern had a harder time navigating the closer they got to Grey. Finally Hawthorn gave up. The sun was dropping toward the palace roofs; she needed to sleep, and traveling in the dark was a terrible idea. She brought the lantern to within five or six feet of the Passage floor. Frin was awake by then, and began unpacking food given to them by the Lady herself. He started eating, but Hawthorn, having decided to stop, was now determined to cover as much distance as possible before then.

The floor of the Passage changed abruptly. It had been trash, then it was marble, and now it was covered with low, twisted shapes. Among them rose a few familiar triangular outlines. Hawthorn stopped the lantern and opened the door. Frin hopped out first, and Hawthorn heard him scream.

The bodies of the beekeepers were all around. One Robin, impaled by the Obsidian banner. Thirty Robin at the rear, hacked apart. So many others dead, along with their hives. Spilled honey pooled around them and mixed with their blood. The smells of death put Old Hawthorn's face before her, but she pushed that thought back before it could harm her.

Hawthorn put her arm around Frin's shoulders, but he shrugged her off and knelt by One. The only sound in the Passage was his weeping.

" I wanted to send the message," he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "They came out here to help me ."

"It's not your fault they died," said Hawthorn. "The Ladies' people did this."

She rubbed his shoulder. There was nothing else for her to say. Women in grey were supposed to handle this part.

"I'll smash them," said Frin. "I'll smash the whole fucking tower. Elder included."

No, Hawthorn started to say, Elder helped us, Elder does not deserve that. But two things stopped her. It would not comfort Frin at all. And second, who was to say that Elder, with access to all the might of Black Tower, might not turn out as poorly as her sisters? She'd helped them out of necessity, their needs ancillary to her goals. No dynasty, however or whyever it arose, had ever withstood the temptations of power.

She dropped to one knee beside Frin and put her arm around him. "I'll help you," she whispered. "When it comes to that, I'll help you."

He did not seem to hear her, only curled against her shoulder and sobbed.

Hawthorn looked around the Passage. The dead beekeepers were facing Black Tower. They had been heading from Grey, then. But they did not have the steel. Either the mother had not given it to them, or it had been taken from the battlefield by the soldiers of Obsidian. Both possibilities were equally frightening.

"Come on," said Hawthorn. "It's not safe here. We need to get going."

She helped him back into the lantern and set off. Frin sat against one wall, staring into the cold, flickering light, one hand clutching the onyx vial. He swayed with every jolt as the lantern traversed the warped tracks, but did not move otherwise. Again Hawthorn wished for the women in grey, to handle death and grief for her, to do their precious job.

"It wasn't all of them," she said during a break. "Frin, it wasn't all of them. Fifteen and Twenty-Nine and so many others weren't there. I didn't see any apprentices. And it wasn't all the hives. They'll go on. It wasn't all of them."

He only nodded. A little while later she stopped the lantern again to eat. By then it was dark. Frin would not eat any more, but when she lay down to sleep he did too, and she reached around the basin to hold his hand.

She wanted to tell him that he was her first and only friend. She wanted to tell him it would be all right. She wanted to tell him so many things. It might be their last night alive; the Beast would certainly emerge soon. But Hawthorn had never been good at cracking herself open to show others her feelings. It was easy to talk to people. It was not easy to tell them the truth.

In a quiet, grim way, she was quite certain that she would die facing the Beast. She did not tell Frin. She was too young for the fight, but nobody else could attempt it. She did not tell Frin that either. And she was even more certain that she did not want Frin to die as well. She absolutely did not tell him this.

Hawthorn had also not told him that she felt just as guilty over their deaths. He would never have asked the beekeepers for help if he hadn't been with her. They would never have gone to get the steel. They would still be alive. She would not let one more person die for her.

When Frin was asleep, she drew the amulet from around her neck and laid it on his chest. She dipped her robe in the light for protection. If there were jackals around, he would have some defense. She left the food with him and whistled the tune to set the lantern flashing. Then she hopped out of the lantern and set off up the Passage toward home.