The funeral was held next morning . I't was long and overly flowery,as they often are when planned by a large group of women. Sam could not honestly believe that a single person cried during the event, as overdone as it was. Just one more day, and Firana would be gone. Forever. But she just sat there, no blinking an eye. He almost laughed at sudden realization. She would likely be the only person ever to go to her own funeral.

They walked back to their rooms hand in hand, enjoying their last moments together. When they arrived they just sat and stared at the floor or around the room for what seemed to be an eternity. At last, she caught his eyes. "I suppose we should get on with it then."

"You're right. But-"

"Just do it. You've already said it won't hurt, and I'm ready."

A sigh of resignation escaped Sam's lips. "Would you like me to put you to sleep before...before..." he let the sentence hang, unable to finish it.

"That would be nice. Here, I'll lay down." He wove the spell over her, adding a mark to make the process gradual just in case she should change her mind. As her eyes were closing, Firana pulled his head close to her own. Sam's heart raced. Perhaps she really had changed her mind. Perhaps-

"I'll wait for you on the other side," she whispered. "Goodnight, my love." She fell into a deep sleep. Sam could hear a faint snore, if he listened close enough. He cast more marks over her then, marks for death. It was a gentle death though, one that instantaneously stopped all other organs, but left the heart beating. He could hear it now, in the silence of the room. 'Funny, that I should only hear it now that she is gone.'

After a time, he hung her body over the trough he had been given. Sam cut through her throat, allowing a thick stream of blood to clatter into the tank.

'Charter, but I hate this,' he thought as he pushed the dagger into her chest. Sam rocked it back and forth so the wound would stay open. 'At least it's a clean wound. I doubt I could stand doing much more to her.'

Once he had made all the necessary cuts, he knelt by the trough. Sam tried to focus on remembering where the other supplies were, but soon his tears flowed freely o join the pooling crimson. 'It's not as though a little extra water will ruin the mixture. When I make it, that is."

It was nearly midnight when he finally rose. The baby had been crying for at least an hour, and it was beginning to grate on his already frayed nerves. Sam lifted Alina from her cradle and rocked her on his shoulder for a while before facing the diaper. He held his breath as he pulled it open. How did such small things smell this bad? He put the offending item as far from his nose as possible while still keeping one hand on the baby. Sam put a fresh cloth on her, and she gurgled for a moment before wailing again. "What more does she want? I've already rocked her, she's got a clean diaper, she can't need to be burped because she hasn't had any...' He groaned. Milk was the one thing he didn't have. Sam snatched a blanket from the chest near the bed, wrapped the bay up, then leaned her on his shoulder before heading out the door.

He took the stairs at a trot. The extra bouncing seemed to keep Alina happy. She'd stopped making that racket right next to his ear, at any rate. He got to the Lower Refectory only to find that no one was there. Nobody, not even a lone girl peeling potatoes. It appeared this night was made to trouble him.

Sam set Alina down, looked around one last time, then clambered over the counter. It was higher than he expected, and he had to cast about with his foot to find a solid surface. He found one just to his left and shifted onto it, only to tumble to the floor when the stack of potatoes he had tried to stand on fell.

After scraping potato mush into the trash and gathering the remaining vegetables into a small pile, he began searching through the kitchens. Sam looked through what must have been every cupboard and cabinet before spotting a single bottle of milk behind several large sacks of flour. No doubt there were more elsewhere, but this was all he needed for now. He took his trophy and daughter and headed back upstairs.

When morning came, Sam mixed the melt-water and ground tooth into the blood. He gave Firana the last rites while he was waiting for someone to come and help him carry the trough. The fire winked out just as the door opened. It was Jondwyn, one of the few male Clayr. "Ready then?"

Sam grasped one side of the trough and motioned to the other in reply. Jondwyn lifted it and backed out the door. They continued in this fashion until he nearly bumped into the axe guard. There, they were replaced by four women. Jondwyn led Sam in ahead of him, blindfolded, of course.

When they reached the Observatory, a line was already forming. Jondwyn moved to join the line, and Sam positioned himself in the center of the room. Within minutes, he heard the heavy footsteps of the women carrying the trough. There was a clang, and the first red-handed woman pressed her hand to the Ice. It was an hour before the room was filled and the ice virtually painted bright red. Sam placed his hands against the Ice, mentally wincing as the excess blood squelched beneath his fingers. He rushed through the incantation, eager to leave and wash his hands. Twice, he nearly said an incorrect mark that could have had devastating results. But as soon as he spoke the final mark, the Ice seemed to spring open and swallow the fluid. It soaked right off their fingers and was absorbed by the Ice. A moment more, and the Ice shone with a brightness to rival the sun. Once the glow faded, the Clayr began their ritual.

The already faint hum of a Charter spell was drowned out as their hands joined in a thunderclap. There was a tide of murmurs, but all fell silent as their individual shard of the future were joined together and projected onto the ceiling.

Sam recognized Lirael immediately, but not what she held. It was a bell of some sort, that was certain, but the handle was striped in all the colors of the rainbow. Whatever it was, she rang it and Saraneth in concert. The world turned dark for a moment, and the ground shook till it seemed it would crumble like stale bread. Then a slowly widening strip of light appeared. The light was made of menacing reds and oranges,though, nothing like the pure light of the sun. Sam realized with a shock that the light had to to be Orannis and Liane. For their light to show, the metal would have to be off of them. Saraneth and another bell. Those two together would do it. The light stopped expanding. For a moment the column twisted, as though it were looking for something. Then a voice boomed out of the inferno, a man's shout of shock with an undertone of a woman's scream. "Thieves!"

The vision faded.

A/N Sorry about the ridiculous wait. If things aren't falling apart lately, they're being fixed. With a touch of luck, the next chapter should be out by the end of the month. s