Free The Crimson Crown by Cinda Williams Chima Page A

they hadn’t been looking for it in the shadow of a massive slab of granite shaped like a wolf’s head. Unlike the rest of the pathway, there was no telltale magic obscuring the entrance; just shrubbery and trees that had grown up over a millennium.
    Han released a long breath. This was it—the back door into Gray Lady that had lain hidden for a thousand years. He hoped.
    From the angle of the sun outside the cave, Han guessed it was midday. They had four hours to navigate the tunnels and reach the Council House. The plan was that Dancer would come that far with Han so that he’d be familiar with the tunnel system for their return trip.
    The opening itself was small, leading to a long tunnel they navigated on hands and knees. Han was prickle-skinned and dry-mouthed all the way. At any moment, he expected to be blasted to bits or incinerated by some nasty charm that Crow had forgotten to mention. Now and then he touched his amulet to dispel the smothering dark.
    A brightness up ahead said they were reaching the end of the tunnel.
    Han emerged first—into a cave the size of the Cathedral Temple, where Raisa had been crowned queen. Wizard lights burned in sconces on the walls, glittering off pillars of quartz and spires of calcite in every color. Could they really have been burning for more than a thousand years? Or had someone been here since to replenish them?
    A waterfall cascaded a hundred feet from a tunnel entrance high above, splashing into a deep pool. Steaming springs thickened the air.
    Alger Waterlow could have assembled an army here.
    Dancer emerged from the tunnel and unfolded to his feet. Tilting back his head, he raised his hands like a speaker welcoming the dawn. “I feel the embrace of the mountain,” he said, closing his eyes and smiling.
    But Han was already walking the perimeter, looking for the path forward.
    He found it on the far wall, hidden from view under a layer of magical barriers. He scraped the spellwork away—leaving one gossamer layer, as Crow had instructed him—revealing a doorway that led into darkness. Leave that last layer in place , Crow had said. Otherwise you risk immolation. Over the entrance was a stone lintel, and carved into the walls on either side were the Waterlow ravens.
    After a quick meal of bread, cheese, and water, Han shouldered his saddlebags.
    He placed his hand over the raven carved into the stone on the left side of the door.
    The remaining veil of magic went transparent.
    “Go ahead,” he said to Dancer, keeping his hand where it was.
    As Dancer’s foot crossed the threshold, he lurched backward, landing flat on the stone floor.
    “Dancer!” As Han knelt next to his friend, Dancer raised up on one elbow, gingerly exploring the back of his head with his other hand.
    “Are you all right?” Han asked, sliding an arm around Dancer’s shoulders.
    “I’m going to have a lump on the back of my head, I think,” Dancer said. He touched the rowan talisman that hung at his neck and jerked his hand away, sucking his fingers. “It’s blistering hot. If not for the talisman, I’d be dead.”
    Han looked back at the tunnel. Once again, the magical barrier shimmered across the opening. His spirits plummeted. Now what? What had gone wrong?
    “I’m all right,” Dancer said, shrugging off Han’s arm. “What do you think happened? Could you have made a mistake?”
    Han was already scanning his notes. “‘Place your palm over the raven carved into the wall on the left side of the doorway. This will identify you as a friend and render the barrier permeable. Step through the doorway immediately, before the barrier hardens.’” He looked up at Dancer. “That’s what I did. I don’t see why…”
    “You didn’t step through it,” Dancer pointed out. “I did. Maybe the same person has to do both. Or maybe the person has to be you. And not me.”
    “What do you mean?” Han was lost.
    “You’re Crow’s blood. I carry Bayar blood. Who would Crow want to keep