The Providence of Fire by Brian Staveley

cliff? What about something less likely to fall on our heads?”
    â€œI want the high ground,” Valyn replied.
    â€œFor what? Hunting rats?”
    Valyn bit back a sharp retort. “Yes, for hunting rats. It’s a cliff, Laith. Cliffs don’t just fall over.”
    The flier gestured to the scree scattered across the valley floor, some boulders the size of small houses.
    â€œThe cliff is sound,” Tan said. “And the kenta is inside.” As if that settled the whole matter.
    â€œThat’s what we came for,” Valyn said. “Now move . Light’s wasting and we’re standing out here like geese.”
    The Kettral set out at a light jog, while Pyrre and the monks fell in a few steps behind. Valyn had crossed half the distance before he realized that Triste wasn’t following. She still stood in the broad, grassy clearing, staring around, eyes wide as lanterns in the crepuscular light, the too-large clothes clutched tight about her in one hand.
    â€œTriste,” Valyn called. “Let’s go.”
    She seemed not to have heard him, and he turned back, cursing beneath his breath. It was bad enough when his own Wing questioned his decisions—at least they were capable fighters and good tactical thinkers—but if he had to play wet nurse to this girl all the way back to Annur … The thought evaporated as she turned to face him, face baffled, as though lost in the slow depths of dream.
    â€œTriste,” he said, studying her. “ Triste. ”
    Finally she focused on him. Tears welled in her eyes, catching the gold of the fading light.
    â€œAre you all right?” Valyn asked, putting a hand on her elbow.
    She nodded, trembling. “Yes. I just … I don’t know. It’s such a sad place.”
    â€œYou’re cold. Tired. Let’s get inside.”
    She hesitated, then turned toward the ancient city, allowing herself to be led.
    *   *   *
    From the outside, the cliff had appeared solid; the simple façade was chipped and worn, whatever once shuttered the windows long gone to dust, but the angles of the doorframe looked true, the crucial verticals more or less plumb. As they stepped beneath the engraved lintel, however, Valyn could see that here, too, time and decay had worked their quiet violence. Though the city’s bones were bedrock, the chiseling and carving of the builders had allowed in both the wind and the water. Small rivulets spilled over the rock, draining from some impossible height. The water ran cold and clear now, but in the winter it would freeze, and centuries of ice had shattered whole sections of stone, prizing them from the walls and ceiling. A rock the size of a horse blocked part of the passage, while smaller chunks made the footing treacherous.
    Valyn pushed deeper into the cave, the smell of damp stone and lichen filling his nostrils. After twenty claustrophobic paces guarded by arrow loops and murder holes, the corridor opened out into a high, wide space—half natural cavern, half carved—evidently an entrance hall of sorts. Recessed sconces for torches grooved the walls, and a wide basin, cracked but graceful, sat in the center. It must have been welcoming once, if not exactly grand, but now it felt empty, cold, and too large to easily defend.
    Doorways radiated outward, black rectangles in the lesser gloom, while wide stone stairs rose along the walls on each side. One route looked as likely as the other, and Valyn turned to Tan.
    â€œWhich way?”
    No one replied.
    â€œYou all might enjoy sightseeing,” Valyn went on after a moment, glancing over at the others, “but there are a dozen doors off this hall, and we don’t have the people to guard them or the tools to seal them up. So, if you’re done admiring the architecture…”
    â€œValyn,” Kaden said finally. “Do you have some sort of light? I can barely see my hand in front of my