THIRTY-THREE
Xylander followed the light of a flickering candle to the chamber where Zurine lay. The walls glittered, throwing back reflections like pools of water, if ever water pooled vertically. Salt crunched underfoot, but he paid it no heed. Zurine was all that mattered, and she could not be dead.
When he entered her chamber, he gasped. What those dullards had called their meat chest was in fact an enormous casket, carved out of salt so clear he could see her inside it. Zurine lay sleeping beneath an equally transparent lid that was little more than a giant slab of salt.
Xylander levered it aside, and reached inside to pull her out. He touched her bruised throat, and almost cried when he felt her faint pulse. She lived, and once he worked out how to wake her...
A few drops of co
