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An expanse of light illuminated the inner structure of the Black Amphitheater, making it resemble a giant glass cloud filled with amber stars.

The temperature near the Lake of Currents had plummeted after sunset, and the constant wind churning the large body of water only increased the restlessness in Andik's chest.

He and Nalia reached their Master's summer residence that very morning. If they had traveled all the way from Urook on horseback or by chariot, the journey would have been long. But Andik called in a few favors and used the immense abilities of the children of the gods to shorten time and distance. Before becoming Ensin and gaining access to secrets beyond the imagination of many scribblers, Andik knew about the Masters' powers with superficial awe. Now, only reverence remained.

The children of the gods, and gods themselves, controlled the forces of the world around them with an ease and spontaneity that would inspire awe in anyone. Their wisdom had brought unprecedented prosperity to Kenjir. Everything the Masters touched was transformed, taking on new life. Just like the Lake of Currents.

The story told how it had been impossible to approach this place for hundreds of years, and how in a single night King Zayr had built his summer residence on its shores. And in the light of dawn, their Lord had plunged his feet into the stormy, black waters of the lake. He had descended into that dark sea and emerged by daylight, hovering in the sky above its surface.

Like a flower of iron and crystal, the Black Amphitheater had sprouted from the lake and grown into the monumental arena that now filled Andik's eyes. "It's impressive," he said almost in a whisper, clinging to one of the handrails that bordered the moving platform.

Beside him, Nalia agreed with an unconvinced "Uh uh" and walked to the front end of the large iron and glass structure that spanned the bridge and transported visitors from the main body of the residence to the Amphitheater. Although she was only a few years older than he was, the Ensin continued to act as if she were as old and wise as he would ever be. "It only has that effect the first few times you see it" she told him condescendingly.

Andik did not believe that was possible.

The closer the platform got to the Amphitheater, the more he felt like he was living in a dream, born in the minds of the gods themselves and materialized in the water—a miracle in itself.

The astonishment he felt, however, was overshadowed by the tense atmosphere that permeated the residence and would most likely overpower the rest of the evening.

"It seems we should be satisfied with a handful of families instead of the dozens that should be here. By now, the bridge should be jammed and the platforms loaded with people decked out for the festivities," Nalia said, almost as if she had read his mind.

Andik had hoped to use this opportunity to continue his research on the Ashen Shields. In theory, the Amphitheater should hold all the Lugalens and families that Zayr had invited to travel aboard the Lethenium Dart. With the help of a few well-crafted questions and a stream of good wine, Andik had felt certain that the evening would help him shed light on the rebel threats, make connections between the disappearance of the Lugalen children, and perhaps even the death of Suna Monning.

To be honest, he mostly wanted to find some useful evidence to prove the existence of the Ashen Shields to Nalia. She had been patient, had decided to trust him, even though she certainly did not have to. Andik didn't want to disappoint her, but the tragedy that had shaken the families threatened to make this trip completely pointless, not to mention the political earthquake it would soon become. All the rest came later.

If the Shields claimed responsibility for the kidnapping and massacre, Kenjir would face the first truly organized rebellion on record, the first to pose a real threat to the state of affairs. But until then there had been no demands, no proclamations, no cries of victory.

With the memory of Lugalen Jan Hura's young daughter proving rather unreliable, what had really happened in that sunken Watchtower was a mystery that only her Dagger could unravel. Not that night, anyway. It seemed that Leoben had managed to delay the official investigation.

Andik could only guess why.

He turned to Nalia and observed her official dress. It consisted of a bodice richly woven with strips of dark purple leather that left her shoulders bare, and a wide skirt of the same color, perhaps silk woven with silvery threads, as light as a silent cloud. She looked like a warrior goddess, ready to draw the ceremonial staffs tied to her belt. She was beautiful and menacing, sensual and wicked at the same time.

She met his gaze and smiled. "You look good too."

Andik smiled back. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare, Ensin."

Nalia laughed. "Oh yes, you wanted to. And you did it well. I appreciate the show, too," she winked as she made an eloquent gesture to describe Andik's clothing. Their liveries were similar and the same colors, but he had covered arms and shoulders, pants and shiny boots. He wished the leather bodice had been designed with a little more consideration for practicality than opulence. "It's obvious whoever designed these uniforms has never held a weapon," he groaned, bringing one hand to his neck and the other to the hilt of the sword strapped to his belt. "I show a little too much flesh."

Nalia shook her head. "Despite the mishap at the sunken tower, we're going to a party, Andik. The neckline on your bodice won't hurt anyone, rest assured. In fact, I would squeeze you into an even tighter outfit."

Andik looked at her sideways. "I'm not one of those guys you spend your nights with and forget about at the crack of dawn. You shouldn't look at me like that."

Nalia approached him. "I will stop imagining you without that uniform if you take your eyes off these beauties," she said, pointing to her breasts. Then she burst out laughing. "Believe me, Ensin Thawill, I am not trying to seduce you. The day I want to take you to bed, I will be unstoppable."

Andik laughed with her.

He did not doubt her words for a moment.

The platform reached the end of its run and passed into one of the large arched entrances that bordered the circular plan of the Amphitheater. The unseen forces that animated the transport gently eased its thrust until it came to a stop.

Andik stepped down first, then turned and held out a hand to help Nalia cross the walkway that connected the platform to the set of black marble steps. From there they walked towards the main corridor.

The Ensin accepted Andik's help and lifted the hem of her skirt, which was in danger of catching on her boots. "I hate these stilts. I hate them with all my heart," she groaned, then grabbed Andik's elbow and followed him.

Guards in red and black gowns greeted them, bowed and ushered them to the other side of the corridor. There, a series of moving platforms awaited a crowd of guests that would never arrive. The sound of their footsteps on the floor was amplified by the enormous proportions of the place.

Andik let his mind wander, his imagination tinged with melancholy as he pictured the grandeur of the celebrations and festivities the Black Amphitheater had witnessed. He watched the lights shining through the glass and iron walls, the music echoing through every surface like gentle vibrations. It must have been an unforgettable sight.

As they boarded the platform, Nalia elbowed him, "What's going on?"

Andik shook his head. "Nothing. It's just that I would love to visit this place under different circumstances."

"Let's put it this way: you're lucky to be here at all," she corrected him. "I know dozens of Ensins who have never even approached the summer residence and have only seen the Amphitheater on a few tapestries. In all likelihood, this is not the joyous night our Lord wished for, but it is a blessing nonetheless, as it is for the Lugalens and their families. Zayr loves weapons, the iron from which they are forged and the power they represent in the hands of his men, not parties, wine and revelry. His hospitality is a gift. This place is a gift. Many believe it is a statement of power, a way of showing Napur and Larsa that Urook also appreciates certain architectural splendors and could even surpass the beauty of the other city-states if it chose to. But those who hold such beliefs are mistaken. Our Lord knows very well that he doesn't have to give any assurances. And this miracle," she said, embracing the translucent miracle they were passing through with a gesture, " serves us , not other peoples and their gods.

Andik had no trouble following this chain of thought, even though it was somewhat new to him. "To show us a side of Zayr we know little about."

Nalia clapped a hand on his arm in agreement. "That is true. Our Lord knows that we are weak and imperfect. He knows that every now and then we need to fill our eyes with something that can lighten the weight of the reality we live in. This Amphitheater is made of dreams as well as iron and glass."

"Our dreams," Andik pointed out.

"Our dreams," Nalia agreed with a sigh.

The platform stopped at the second circle, slightly lower than the total of nine. Andik held his breath at the vision of reflected light and mirror play that the structure of the Black Amphitheater presented to anyone who looked at it.

"Remember to breathe," Nalia chuckled as she led the way. They walked along this level, an immense circle of dark glass that looked seamless, as if carved from a single, even larger slab. It would take several minutes to walk through it all.

Andik calculated on the fly that it could hold at least a thousand people if it was crowded. The upper circles, directly concentric and progressively larger, would accommodate even larger crowds. Of course, the privilege of standing near their Lord, down in the first circle, was reserved for the most powerful and wealthy families of Urook or visiting delegations from Larsa and Napur.

This evening, however, the structure was spectacularly empty. Iron and glass reigned over the vast arena of desolate beauty, open to the stars.

Only a few families, about thirty people in all, strolled the floor of the second circle.

Andik tried to distract himself, searching with his eyes for the source of the melody that caressed his ears. Soon he found it and realized that it was not just one. At regular intervals, all around the circle, small orchestras of stringed instruments played the same elegant music.

Nalia pulled him away from the muted admiration the notes inspired in his heart. "Who do you think she is?"

It took Andik a few moments to realize what he was talking about. He embraced the circle with his gaze, squinting until they connected what he had been told with what he saw: Shadi Jan Hura. "I assume you mean her," he replied, pointing to the opposite end of the plane, beyond the gap created by the one below.

"Ah."

"What? Did you think she looked different?"

Nalia chuckled. "She's puny. The cooks in Jabal Amira must be real slackers."

"She's just a little girl."

"A malnourished little girl, pale as a sheet."

"The paleness may not be due to the Peaks' eating habits, Ensin Korr. Apparently, Lugalen Jan Hura's daughter had a bad time in that submerged tower. Even the best-trained warrior would be exhausted."

"Yes. Perhaps so. I'd like to hear her tell it in person," she stressed in a curious tone.

Andik was surprised to find this inappropriate. "Her memories seem fuzzy. What she told her parents was not very helpful. In all likelihood, we will learn more about the deed by digging up the bodies than from her words."

"It will take years," Nalia huffed.

Andik nodded. Maybe his plans had gone awry, maybe he should turn around and forget the whole thing. What could they hope to gain from the memory of a young girl so deeply shaken by events?

But Nalia was right. They owed it to all the young women buried under the rubble, as well as those who had disappeared. And they owed it to the young woman they had found dead in a hovel on the outskirts of Urook.

Darjin was always amazed at how easily men, even the most powerful and experienced, could fall asleep after such amusements.

Laamar had shown all the strength and endurance his appearance suggested. He had undoubtedly done himself credit, time and again, and had been able to alternate between fantasy and gentleness. But like all other men, he now floated in the coils of dreams with a blissful expression on his face.

Darjin smiled. She had been pretty good too. She filled her lungs with the spicy scent of Laamar's skin, mixed with that of the wood in the fireplace, now on the verge of turning to ash.

Ash.

She wondered if she would ever be able to think or say that word again without her mind returning to Shadi's captors and the events that had led her to break into the sunken facility.

Ashen Shields.

They were a legend, dragged from the pool of whispers and stories told around hearths on winter nights to frighten the little ones and intimidate the disrespectful. They were a dangerous reality. And she had stabbed that reality hard. How many had she killed in that tower? How many had died in the collapse?

A chill ran down her spine, perhaps from the cold, perhaps from the sharp sting of remorse.

Those girls had died.

Had her foray pushed events toward tragedy? Or would the kidnappers have gotten rid of the Lugalens' daughters anyway? And what did the Ashen Shields have in mind? What did they really want? What did they think they could get out of the girls?

Questions began to flood her mind again. With a sigh, she realized that Laamar's body had distracted her all too briefly. She got up, moving slowly so as not to wake him, and wrapped herself in a long silk robe. She was surprised to find the floor warm beneath her feet.

Another magic of the Masters.

Everything they created, everything they set their eyes on, rose to the impossible. Just like this summer house, capable of challenging the very concept of reality. What were those walls made of? Was it really black glass? What about those columns? How much iron had been used to forge them?

Darjin shook her head and approached the fireplace. She was struck by the realization that the fireplace must have had more of an aesthetic purpose than a practical one. After all, the walls and the floor seemed to carry heat in turn. Did Lord Zayr have a soft spot for dancing lights created by flames?

Darjin took a few logs from a box near the fireplace and threw them on the grate, then tried to rekindle the flame. As she stirred the still-burning embers, she heard a rustling, then light footsteps. She smiled as she felt Laamar's arms around her waist and his face sinking into her hair. The lieutenant filled her lungs with his scent and laughed softly. "You should not be standing," he scolded her in a low voice, in one ear.

She twisted in his arms, putting one hand behind his neck and pinching his chest with the other. "I should have refrained from other activities tonight, according to the healers," she replied in a whisper. "I heard no protests when I lifted the sheet."

Laamar tilted his head and smiled. "I was surprised. You showed me skills that overwhelmed me. I could not resist you."

Darjin smiled with him. "You gave up easily."

"I would surrender a thousand times over." He held her even tighter, kissing her with a gentleness far removed from the lust that had driven him to pounce on her moments before.

Darjin turned away from him. "I think you should go."

Laamar groaned like a puppy badly shoved away. "Why should I? Do you have other plans for tonight?"

Darjin realized she was not sure what time it was, and Laamar caught that uncertainty. "I know your sense of duty and devotion to the Jan Hura is unparalleled. I know you are eager to return to your work, despite your injuries and the recommendations of the healers, but you should rest."

"I can start again. I've already shown you that I still have energy to spare, haven't I?" she told him, pointing to the bed.

"Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. You are off duty tonight; your lady will be very busy. A host of soldiers and orderlies have taken over your duties."

Darjin blinked, not understanding as Laamar led her to the window and pointed to the structure in the middle of the lake. "The Jan Hura family is in there, guests of our Lord Zayr. Believe me, Darjin, no one is thinking of you tonight. No one but me." He took her in his arms again.

As she let him kiss her, Darjin could not suppress an uneasy breeze that stirred her soul. It was probably an unfounded feeling. Shadi was safe.

She closed her eyes and returned Laamar's kiss more vehemently. But the fear remained, trapped in her chest.