Othrelos did not show himself. The demanded supplies did.

Not all together, not all within the specified window, but silver, dragonscales, and the other exotic ingredients Delarin required for building a passage to his new world arrived in a steady stream. By messenger, by cart, or by confused foreigner, and Rubines was there to receive them all.

Delarin abandoned work on his world casting as soon as the first scales arrived and moved to the passage site, a cavern with a twisty tunnel leading up to the nearby grove just north of the Shadowdell's border. The tunnel was necessarily convoluted to fulfill their primary requirement: allowing outsiders to cross into Delarin's domain without realizing it.

No one, even the most desperate, would knowingly enter the Shadowdell. Too many stories about The Shadowcalled and his propensity for consuming souls and dark rituals. No one would trust any passage created by Delarin Shadowcalled to be anything but a trap.

Rubines had to trust that their precautions would be sufficient. Time was running out.

It took most of the day for the supplies to arrive, and they still fell short of the original quantities demanded, but it was enough to get started with.

When the last delivery had been received and he saw no sign of more, Rubines descended to the passage site. Delarin had been busy, as evidenced by the stones melted and reformed beneath a perfect ring of dragonscales. They lined the floor, walls, and ceiling in a cylinder of crimson fire that extended unbroken for nearly three strides.

It was the largest and most perfect passage casting he'd ever seen, but Delarin was still hard at work. Silver tracings connected each scale to the last, with distinct sets of lines and loops and patterns. Rubines saw a hundred threads of silver running off back further into the cavern, each connected to one or more of the faintly-glowing scales that formed the passage.

Delarin muttered to himself as he moved between scales, moving with quick precision that put the greatest show archaens to shame. He linked another thread in, looped it to another scale, then tied it into a quick arrowhead and tossed it behind him. It sailed further than Rubines would have expected, vanishing into the distance until its line was as taut as the rest.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"We need more dragonscales."

"That's all they have. If Councilor Darholden can't find more, there are none to be found."

"It's not nearly enough. If I try to tie this directly to the new world, it'll pull ten times the power it should and burn out in less than an hour." Delarin kept working as he spoke, his hands moving with deft speed, looping more and more lines of silver in, finishing each with an arrowhead before tossing it behind him to join those already trailing off into the dimness.

"No... we've come so close. There must be some way!"

"I need a dungeon."

Rubines stared in shock. "What?"

"I thought something like this might happen. If I could leave this damn trap I'd fetch one myself, but I can't. So it's up to you. Get me a dungeon." He paused to toy with a shorter length of silver thread, then tossed it to Rubines. It had one end twisted into a jagged nail. "Find its heart and stick it with that, then bring it here."

Rubines dropped the thread and backed away. "I can't. I'm a councilor, not a warrior. I'll be killed in minutes."

"Then get me more dragonscales."

Rubines stood for a moment, heart hammering, but he knew it was impossible.

Two impossible options.

For a long minute he stood, trying to find some third option, but there was none. He was already far beyond the pale, allying himself with Delarin, blackmailing and threatening Othrelos, deceiving Poro. He'd burned every bridge, and would probably be attacked or arrested on sight if he tried to return to the city. Othrelos had plenty of time to turn the rest of the Council against him.

He finally stooped and picked up the silver thread. "I'm going to die either way." He closed his hand over the twisted nail. "I need to speak to Poro before I go, ensure his people are ready to move. How soon can the passage open?"

"Four days, assuming you get me that link to the dungeon heart." Delarin looped the other end of the thread around Rubines's wrist, sealing it with a deft twist. For a moment a phantom line connected the two of them, the silver circles on Delarin's chest glowing with moonlight. Then he turned away and the ghostly thread vanished.

"Don't wait for me." Rubines felt hollow and empty, his stomach roiling with dread. He tucked the nail into the circlet around his wrist and it stayed secure. He'd known his life was over the moment he swore his future to Delarin Shadowcalled, he just hadn't expected its end to come quite so soon. "Once Poro gets here with his people, just open it and send them through."

"No."

Rubines turned back. "Please, Delarin, this is why I came to you. To save them."

"I'll save them when you're back and not a minute before."

"But... your world..."

"I can build a private passage for myself easily enough, if it comes to that. Or I may end up keeping this world once the dungeons kill everyone else."

"But... why?"

"You know our agreement. You'll work for me, I'll save them for you. If I don't get my payment, you're not getting yours. Now go get me that dungeon."

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Rubines covertly relayed instructions to Poro for evacuation to begin in four days, then stole the first fast horse he found and headed straight for the latest town to have fallen to the dungeons.

He'd come too far to stop now.

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