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surrounding stone. The first speaker grunted, as though lifting a weight, and the warriors stirred, their hands shifting on their weapons. The warrior with the hard voice cursed under his breath, then gestured the advance, and they moved forward as one, flowing silently up the stairs.
    Kalan’s whole body was shaking, cold and sick from the brush of the deadly will across his mind. Cautiously, he released his hold on the image of stone, letting out his breath with a gasp when he realized that the blood was hammering in his ears. “Darkswarm,” he whispered. There could be no mistaking that dark will. For the first time in his life he wished he was a mindspeaker and could raise an instant alarm.
    The intruders must have come through the Old Keep, he thought. Brother Belan had always said that there were secret doors from the abandoned fortress into the temple quarter.
    “But how,” Kalan whispered, “would the Swarm know that?” He shook his head, still trying to take in what was happening, to think out what he should do. “I have to get ahead of the warband somehow,” he told himself sharply, “warn Sister Korriya and the others.” But the only other way up was a service stair that had fallen into disrepair and the attacking warriors could already have sent another warband by that route. And who knew what other dark powers they might possess?
    I don’t know, Kalan thought, and clenched his fists until the nails cut into his palms. But I have to try and do something.
    Carefully, he checked the hallway again and then hurried toward the service stair, keeping as close to the wall as he could and straining both eyes and ears for hidden enemies. The distance to the second stair seemed furtherthan he remembered, and Kalan gradually picked up speed. Rounding a corner fast, he slid to an abrupt halt, staring at a large door of black metal where he had never seen anything but blank walls before. “So they did come through the Old Keep,” he muttered, realizing that he had not quite believed it before.
    The door had been jammed open. Kalan could see a stone landing through the gap, and a stair twisting down into darkness. He peered through, thinking that if anything it seemed sadder, colder, and more derelict than his side of the door. But even with his keen sight, the absolute blackness beyond the landing was frightening. Kalan shivered, almost glad to have a reason to turn away and start running again. Caution made him slow before he reached his destination, hugging the wall again and creeping along the last half corridor to the foot of the staircase. He craned to look, and saw a bar of light across the first landing and booted feet beneath long black cloaks.
    Lookouts, Kalan thought grimly, and retreated as quietly as he had come. He frowned, trying to come up with some way of getting past unseen. But there were too many rearguards posted and the stair was too narrow, with too few places to hide if they came after him. The only option he could think of now was to try the Old Keep. The staircase he had seen twisted down, but it might lead to a landing where another stair led up—and Belan had said that there was more than one secret door. Kalan suppressed the thought that the invaders might know of those doors as well; that he might already be too late. “I can’t just give up,” he whispered. “I have to keep trying.”
    But he still hesitated when he reached the iron door, wondering what might be waiting inside that profound dark. He could not help remembering all the ghost stories told about the Old Keep—but every moment he hesitated was taking the intruders further into the unarmed temple quarter. “You wanted adventure!” Kalan told himself sternly, and stepped through the door.
    The stairs wound tightly down and the blackness was intense. The silence, too, felt tangible, pressing in on Kalan as though the Old Keep itself were aware of him. The muted echo of his sandals on stone sounded frighteningly loud,