Capture the Crown

by Jennifer Estep

  The driver leaned on the hand brake, the slope flattened out, and the cart rolled to a stop at the bottom of the shaft. Strings of lanterns lined the walls and low ceiling, while the fluorestones inside bathed the area in that familiar pale gray glow, as if someone had bottled up rays of moonlight.

  I blinked my eyes several times, helping them adjust to the sudden influx of light, then climbed out of the cart. Penelope showed her map to the mine steward, who directed us to the appropriate section.

  We walked through the shaft, following the strings of fluorestone lanterns like they were arrows pointing us toward our destination. The other miners split off and disappeared into different tunnels, but Penelope and I kept moving forward until we reached the end of this shaft.

  We were in a different part of the mine than yesterday. This tunnel opened up into a large round chamber that had been chiseled out of the surrounding rock, and the jagged, dome-like shape reminded me of an uneven soap bubble that had somehow been trapped underground. Dozens of fluorestone lanterns had been rigged up in here, and the chamber was actually quite bright, although the light wasn’t warm, like the sun’s rays would have been.

  Several miners were already using their pickaxes, rock hammers, and other tools to chisel chunks of tearstone out of the walls. Some of the tearstone seams were a light, bright, starry gray, while other sections were a deep, dark midnight-blue.

  To my surprise, the miners were only working on the left side of the chamber. Curious, I headed over to the right. No lanterns were strung up on this side, so I couldn’t tell how far away the opposite wall was, although strangely enough, I could have sworn that a breeze was gusting across my face. I took another cautious step forward, but my foot didn’t meet solid ground, only empty air—

  Penelope grabbed my arm and jerked me back. “Careful! That chasm just opened up a few weeks ago.”

  I glanced down. The lanterns’ glow made the tearstone shift colors, and the swirls of gray and blue spread out like a rainbow, creating an optical illusion on this side of the chamber. A very dangerous illusion, since I hadn’t noticed that I was about to step off the edge of a chasm. Penelope was right. I needed to be more careful. Mind magier or not, the mountain could kill me as easily as it could anyone else.

  I flashed her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  She nodded and released my arm.

  A thought occurred to me. “Wait. Is this how that woman died? You said that one of the forewomen accidentally stepped into a chasm. Her name was Clarissa, right?”

  Penelope shivered, even though the chamber wasn’t all that cold. “Yeah. The mountain shifted, maybe because of miners digging in a nearby shaft, and Clarissa was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The chasm opened up right under her feet. It took us two days to recover her body.”

  She didn’t trip over the words, and her voice remained smooth and even, but I could still tell that she was lying.

  Most people’s lies were small things, more to soothe others’ feelings than to do any true harm. Of course that gown looks lovely on you. I absolutely adore the song you’ve composed for me. No, I don’t know what happened to the last piece of cranberry-apple pie.

  Those sorts of lies always felt like tiny stings, like a rambunctious puppy had scratched my hand, but Penelope’s lies were much sharper, as though that puppy had morphed into a greywolf that had just sunk its teeth deep into my arm. Her guilt and fear also punched into my stomach as hard as a gladiator gutting a hated rival in an arena.

  I could understand Penelope’s fear. No one wanted to die down here. But why would she feel so guilty about Clarissa’s death? Especially when she had just said it was an accident?

  Penelope shivered again. Before I could question her further, one of the other miners called out to her, and she went over to him.

  I stayed behind, though, staring down into the black abyss and wondering what other murderous secrets the mountain contained.

  Chapter Three

  Penelope finished her conversation with the other miner, and we grabbed some pickaxes and headed over to the back of the chamber.

  Thick seams of tearstone ran from the top of the rock wall all the way down to the bottom, and the miners would be working in here for months to pry out every last shard. The larger, more common light gray chunks would probably be shaped into swords, daggers, and shields, while the smaller, rarer midnight-blue pieces would most likely be used to add sparkle, flash, and beauty glamours to rings, necklaces, and bracelets.

  I dug my axe into the surrounding rock, then chipped away at it so that I could get to the embedded tearstone. A few minutes later, I pried a dark blue, fist-size chunk out of the wall.

  This wasn’t the first time I had dug tearstone. Even pampered princesses were required to learn about their kingdom’s industries, and a good portion of my royal education had focused on mining, since it was such a large part of Andvarian life, as well as how my ancestors had made their fortunes. Plus, I had served as Alvis’s informal apprentice for years. The metalstone master had taught me everything he knew about shaping precious metals and gems into beautiful jewelry, just as he had taught Everleigh Blair before me.

  “Gemma?” Penelope asked. “Are you okay? Why did you stop working?”

  “Sorry. I was just admiring the stone.”

  Penelope eyed me like I’d grown a second head, so I dropped the tearstone into the bucket at my feet and went back to work.

  Rock by rock, bit by bit, piece by piece, Penelope and I chipped, chiseled, and cracked chunks of tearstone out of the cavern wall and placed them in the buckets. The other miners did the same. Every hour on the hour, the mine steward would stroll by and mark our progress on his clipboard. Two men trailed along behind the steward, grabbing the full buckets and setting out empty ones.

  While we worked, I studied the other miners, who were a mix of ages, shapes, sizes, and abilities. Several were mutts, a common, if somewhat derogatory, term for those with relatively simple, straightforward powers, like enhanced speed or strength. Like the man who was chipping tearstone out of the wall twice as fast as anyone else. Or the woman who was hauling around boulder-size rocks as though they were as light as loaves of bread.

  Some of the other miners were masters, those who could control a specific object or element. Like the metalstone master who was moving his hand back and forth, using his magic instead of a tool to dig into the wall.

  There were also a few morphs, those who could shape-shift into larger, stronger creatures. Like Reiko, the woman standing next to me.

  Reiko was a couple inches shorter than me, and much more slender, with high cheekbones, emerald-green eyes, golden skin, and long black hair pulled back into a fishtail braid. Unlike the other miners, Reiko wasn’t wearing gloves, and a dragon face with emerald-green scales and black eyes adorned her right hand, indicating the creature she could shift into.

  Reiko didn’t so much as glance in my direction, but the tattoo-like dragon on her hand must have sensed my curious stare because it winked at me. Reiko had partially shifted and was using the long black talons that had sprouted on her fingertips to pry pieces of tearstone out of the wall.

  I was the only magier in the chamber, though. Having someone who could conjure fire, lightning, or some other raw power was extremely risky in a mine, since you never knew when you might hit a pocket of gas that the smallest spark—magical or otherwise—could ignite.

  As the morning wore on, the miners shared the latest gossip to break up the monotony of filling bucket after bucket. I listened to everything they said and used my magic to skim their thoughts, but I didn’t hear anything suspicious. Some people’s inner musings were easier to sense than others, but if anyone here was involved in Clarissa’s death, then they were hiding it well, and their malevolence was buried deep in their minds.

  When the day’s gossip had been exhausted, some folks started singing Andvarian songs about love, loss, and, of course, mining. Reiko, the dragon morph, had a particularly
lovely singing voice, and soon the other miners were swinging their axes and tapping their hammers into the wall in time to her songs.

  “Do you know ‘The Bluest Crown’?” someone asked during a water break.

  “Doesn’t everyone in Andvari know that song?” Reiko replied, a mocking tone in her voice.

  Everyone laughed, except for me.

  Reiko must have noticed my lack of merriment because her gaze locked with mine. I started to skim her thoughts, but her steady stare, along with that of the dragon on her hand, made me stop. Morph musings were often difficult to hear, perhaps because there were two beings in every morph’s body, and the person’s thoughts often mixed with those of the creature hidden inside them.

  Either way, I didn’t want Reiko to suspect that I was anything more than a miner, so I calmly stared back at her, as though her song choice didn’t matter to me.

  Amusement flickered across Reiko’s face, and the green dragon on her hand opened its mouth in a wide, silent chuckle, as though it were laughing at some joke at my expense. Suspicion filled me.

  “‘The Bluest Crown’ it is,” Reiko announced.

  She launched into the song. All the other miners joined in, including Penelope, and their cheery chorus rang throughout the chamber, punctuated by the tink-tink-tinks of the tools digging into the rocks. I swung my pickaxe even harder at the wall. I might be a mind magier, but even I couldn’t block out that bloody catchy melody.

  Despite the torturous song, and the two boisterous encores that followed, the morning passed by quickly. There were no clocks, and the lanterns’ steady, unwavering glow made it difficult to determine the time. If the mine steward and his men hadn’t come by to collect the buckets every hour, I would have thought we had been down here for only a few minutes.

  Eventually, a small silver bell tied to a bright blue string at the front of the chamber started jingling. Each chamber featured a similar bell, and they were all threaded together, like an elaborate underground spiderweb. Soon, other bells joined in, until they were clanging throughout the entire mine, and the sounds rippled through the thick walls and echoed back on themselves in light, pealing waves.

  Lunchtime.

  We set our tools down, trudged out of the chamber, and climbed back into the cart at the front of the shaft. This time, instead of depending on the driver to steer us down into the dark, everyone grabbed hold of a thick rope that was part of a pulley system attached to the wall. Together, we hauled ourselves and the cart back up the steep incline. The mutts with strength magic did most of the work, along with Reiko.

  Many morphs were strong, but Reiko seemed to have more power than most, despite her short, slender frame. Even though I couldn’t see her in the blackness, I could still sense her magic. The dragon morph was sitting in front of me, and my fingertips tingled every time she yanked on the rope.

  As soon as we reached the top of the shaft, the miners relaxed, and their collective relief swept over me like a cool, refreshing breeze. Penelope and I grabbed our lunch boxes from our lockers, walked back through Basecamp, and headed outside into the plaza.

  The other miners flocked to the merchants’ carts, purchasing kebabs of grilled beef, chicken, and spicy vegetables, bread bowls brimming with hot broccoli-cheese soup, and thick slices of cranberry-apple pie, my favorite. Penelope and I bought mugs of pear lemonade, then sat down on a bench close to the low wall that separated the plaza from the mine. In the distance, the fountain bubbled merrily, as though the stone gargoyle were playfully splashing around in the water-filled basin.

  Penelope opened her lunch box and pulled out a roast-beef sandwich, along with a bloodcrisp apple and sweet-and-sour carrot sticks. I opened up my own lunch box, which also contained a bloodcrisp apple, along with a paper bag filled with fried sweet-potato chips sprinkled with cinnamon. I grabbed the sandwich I had made this morning—hearty sourdough bread stuffed with thick slices of gruyère cheese and slathered with apricot jam.

  I sank my teeth into the sandwich and sighed with happiness. The tangy bread and the creamy, salty cheese combined perfectly with the apricots’ bright flavor. The sandwich would have been even better hot and toasted, with the bread crispy, the cheese melting, and the jam oozing out the sides, like the ones the kitchen staff made for me at Glitnir. Of course Miner Gemma didn’t have such luxuries, but I didn’t care. Even cold, the sandwich was still delicious.

  Penelope and I polished off our food and sat on the bench, sipping our tart lemonade with its sweet pear syrup. Penelope chattered all through lunch, sharing tidbits and funny stories about the other miners. I studied each person she mentioned, but everyone seemed content to enjoy their food and the lovely fall day, and no one was acting suspiciously.

  “Does anything interesting ever happen around here?” I asked.

  Penelope frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You know that I’m from a small town and that this is my first time working in such a large mine,” I lied. “I was just wondering if anything exciting ever happens, especially since we’re so close to the Mortan border.”

  Penelope shrugged. “Not really. Lots of Mortans visit Blauberg to shop, trade, and the like, but they don’t usually come to the mine unless they’re placing or picking up an order. But even that’s rare. We mostly mine tearstone, and the Ripley royal family prefers to sell it to the Bellonans or Ungers, rather than to the Mortans.”

  I already knew all that, but it was still good to have confirmation.

  Penelope turned the conversation to other things, and her cheery chatter washed over me again. The whole time she talked, I kept dreaming up ways I could find out more about the missing tearstone. Perhaps after my shift ended, I could slip away from Penelope and hide in the mine or the refinery and see if anything untoward happened overnight. I hadn’t made as much progress as I’d hoped, and my time in Blauberg was running out. Princess Gemma needed to be back in Glitnir next week to attend to some courtly duties.

  Penelope was still talking, and I was still plotting when Conley strode out of the mine, along with six big, burly men. Four of the men were clutching pickaxes, while the other two were each pushing a wheelbarrow. Black canvas tarps covered the wheelbarrows, although the containers obviously held raw ore, given the uneven lumps jutting up against the tops of the tarps.

  My eyes narrowed. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to sneak around the mine tonight. Perhaps my prime suspect was going to incriminate himself right here and now, although rolling wheelbarrows full of tearstone out of the mine in broad daylight was incredibly brazen. Then again, Conley didn’t strike me as being particularly subtle.

  Several miners around the plaza were also staring at the group—or rather, not staring at them. Those miners dropped their heads and focused on their food, as if pretending that the carts weren’t rolling by meant that it wasn’t actually happening. Tension clouded the air, and the miners went quiet and still, as though they were frozen in place just like the gargoyle in the fountain.

  I didn’t bother skimming people’s thoughts. Conley was obviously up to no good, and he must have a much tighter grip on the miners than I’d realized for people to turn such blind eyes to his actions.

  The foreman swaggered across the plaza while the wheelbarrows clattered ominously across the cobblestones. I glanced around, wondering how I could slip away from Penelope and follow Conley—

  “Oh, no,” Penelope whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Who are those men?”

  “Conley’s crew,” she replied. “You know how the enforcer in a gladiator troupe handles disputes between the fighters? Well, Conley uses those men to take care of squabbles between the miners. And for . . . other things.”

  In other words, the men were Conley’s personal gang. “What are they doing with those wheelbarrows?”

  Penelope fell silent, but guilt rippled off her.

  To my surprise, Conley veered in this direction and stopped in front of us. His shadow engulfed us both as he looke
d down his nose first at Penelope, then me. “You two. With me.”

  Penelope stared at him with wide eyes, and her worry throbbed in my mind right alongside my own concern. What did Conley want?

  I reached out with my magic, but Conley’s thoughts were scattered and turbulent, like fall leaves swirling on a gusty breeze. All I could really tell was that he was extremely agitated.

  “Now,” he growled.

  Penelope slammed her lunch box shut, set it aside, and surged to her feet. I also set my lunch box aside and stood up.

  “Follow me,” Conley growled again.

  He strode past us. The two men pushing the wheelbarrows walked by as well, but the other four miners stood there, clutching their pickaxes.

  Penelope shot me a regretful look, then headed after Conley. The four miners hefted their tools—weapons—their message crystal clear. Come along, or else.

  All around the plaza, the other miners kept their heads down, and another, stronger cloud of tension drifted through the air. No one was going to question Conley, much less try to stop him and his enforcers from doing whatever they wanted with the wheelbarrows—and me.

  Despite the obvious danger, curiosity surged through me, along with more than a little eagerness. After weeks of running around the countryside chasing rumors, I finally had a chance to discover what was really going on. So I fell in step beside Penelope, with the four miners closing ranks behind me. Together, we all followed Conley away from the mine.

  * * *

  Conley swaggered through the plaza and along the main thoroughfare beyond as though he owned it. He called out greetings to several merchants, although they too ducked their heads and focused on their goods, lest they attract too much of his attention. I wondered if Conley had frightened or bribed them to look the other way. Perhaps both. Well, his grip on the mine was rapidly coming to an end.