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sounded stronger, more forceful.
    "If Guardian ever suspects what we are doing here—" Ephraim's hurried insertion, voicing his worry, was dismissed immediately as Sulien cut him off with firm words.
    " He ' s so new he wouldn ' t see beyond what we cast. " Sulien ' s voice had a smug edge and Ceithin tried to focus on what they were saying , needing to learn all he could if he ever had a hope of finding his brother in this Annwn forsaken place .
    Madoc had clearly reached the limit of patience. "The Cariad will not give up Fire willingly, nor will his Fire choose to leave him. The bond between the two is too strong."
    "I agree," Ephraim said quickly. "It's coiled in his spine, bound by old magik I have never seen."
    Ceithin groaned low as a wave of intense pain shot through his chest. It wasn't inflicted by the three men who stood a careful distance from him. His Fire was burning bright and hot inside him. Although it hid, it wanted vengeance. He was losing control of it, and he concentrated, using every pore within him to push his fire down. Laying still, he willed his breathing slower.
    "He is dying, even his scarlet can't help him now. We'll simply allow his body to decay and harvest the Fire when we are able." Sulien's voice dripped with distaste for Ceithin and his Fire, clearly dismissive of his death. Impatient and spiked, the sound of the words flowed into Ceithin's subconscious.
    "Sulien, if we allow a Cariad to die here and Guardian discovers—" Ephraim's voice had taken on a new inflection—naked fear.
    "Enough. We should not fear a newborn Guardian. Find your backbone." Sulien snapped into sudden, complete, inflexible command mode. "I am first in the Council of Three. Ward the space and leave him. We'll capture the Fire just before his body desiccates. Guardian does not venture this far into the prison; he will not know."
    There were no more words spoken, just magik thrown at Ceithin. Enough to kill a normal man, it mercilessly assaulted his senses, a net of energy holding him pinned to the stone floor. He heard low laughter, then retreating footsteps. A groan tore from his chest, unbidden and deep, but he at least had some hope. If the Council were hiding him from Guardian, then surely that was a point in his favor. On their own, they were no match for Cariad, and without Guardian's amber Fire they were just three old men with limited knowledge of the Ancients' magik.
    He didn't remember much about how he had become a prisoner after arriving at the gate. He'd been following instincts telling him which entry to use. He'd passed through the first warding easily and then onto the main courtyard, just another citizen visiting the Council stronghold. Then all he remembered were cat's eyes, amber gold, and a Fire taking him to his knees. Amber Fire. Like nothing he had seen before, stronger than his father's. Council Fire.
    But the Fire of the three he saw today—Sulien, Ephraim, and Madoc—their Fire was dying. It had been deteriorating, the dirty brown of early decay, destroyed from the inside. So that really only left Guardian with any kind of powerful amber Fire. What did Guardian need with him? Why hand him over to the Council? The Council said Guardian didn't know he was here? The level of ruin in the Council's Fire was nothing Ceithin had ever seen before; and the fact they craved his Fire served to convince him something was wrong, horribly wrong. Terminal. He'd sensed an echo of this as he stood in the courtyard looking at the people who moved around with no real purpose and limited emotions. Their Fire had been dampened somehow. None of it seemed right; and as soon as he got out of this damn prison, he needed to trace the root of whatever it was that was polluting the Fire.
    He waited as he allowed his own Fire to seep out of every single one of his tortured nerves and muscles. They had left him in magik bonds so flimsy a Cariad babe could have released himself. But he needed to rest, to allow his