“Your leader will escort us out of here,” I informed them.
Something seemed to pass between my captive and the men leading the band of newcomers. One of them nodded.
“Sorry,” he said, “can’t let that happen.”
“Then she dies,” I said.
“Suit yourself. As long as you’re happy to be flayed alive afterward. Your friend, too.” His gaze flicked to Nyralit. My heart sank when I saw one of the newcomers, a woman, step forward with a rapier pointed at my friend’s heart.
There’s no way we’ll get the advantage here, Tyrak said.
Disgusted, I removed my dagger from the woman’s throat, sheathed it, and held up my hands.
Rubbing her throat, the woman turned on me. “Well fought,” she said, honesty clear in her voice. “Unfortunately, I had the advantage in the end.” She glanced at my waist. “A nice blade. I think I’ll borrow it.”
When she plucked Tyrak from my belt, I leaped for her and snared her wrist. In response, she gestured at the woman threatening Nyralit. The point of the rapier caught on Nyralit’s silks. I released my grip.
“Years of smuggling and thieving, yet I’ve never owned a nightforged weapon,” she said.
Smugglers . . . Maybe Ashhi had known they were down here all along. Maybe that had been her plan. Or maybe we’d just been unlucky.
“You’ve made a mistake,” I said. “I swear we’re not who you think.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re not,” she sneered. “I can tell by the fine cut of your clothing, your nightforged blade, your friend’s baby-soft skin . . .”
Rough hands grabbed me. I threw my weight against the iron grips of my captors, but it did no good. A stiff rope wrapped my wrists; when the knot cinched tight, my bones ground together. From the gathered band, a pair of women shoved forward and grabbed my lower legs while someone else jabbed hands into my armpits. Together they lifted me from the ground. As I craned my neck, I saw others carrying Nyralit, somewhat more gently.
I kept struggling, though I knew it would do no good. At this point, I couldn’t even remember which tunnel we’d come from. What time was it? I didn’t think Ashhi would alert her father until dawn because it would raise questions about why she’d been prowling around our rooms after dark. But once the sun rose, Trader Ulstat would surely carry out his threat.
As the rogues took me deeper into the mine, I tried to keep track of the twists and turns. But it was no use. I had no idea how we’d get back to House Ulstat before morning.
The smugglers dragged us deep into the mine, following a serpentine path through the warren of tunnels. No signs marked the intersections; the thieves knew the route by heart. I, on the other hand, was hopelessly lost.
Finally, the leader drew a halt outside the entrance to a large chamber. Light spilled from the doorway, the flickering glow dancing on the stone floor of the corridor. Once the whole band had gathered in a clot, the woman turned to address them.
“Take care of any business you need to address. We’ll convene a meeting shortly.” She gestured with her chin at the smugglers holding Nyralit and me. “Bring them with me.”
I stumbled as hands shoved me forward, but when I entered the chamber, I couldn’t help but gape. Hanging from a vaulted ceiling, half a dozen chandeliers hung from thick iron chains. Not just glass, but real gems scattered the glow of dozens of candles. The room was maybe a hundred paces across, dominated by a massive wooden table set with crystal dishes and goblets and piled high with vases, silver and gold pitchers, odd little statues of stone and crystal and ivory. A hodgepodge of furniture cluttered the edges of the room. Unsavory characters lounged on couches with the woolen stuffing falling out and armchairs upholstered in the finest velvet. Set upon a wooden platform, pillows and cushions piled high on a giant chair that looked more like a throne. In a small circle around it, lamps burned oils that produced a blue flame, painting the surrounding area in a watery hue.
In one corner, half a dozen smugglers sat on cushions around a low table. Incense burned in an ornate censer placed in the center of the table. They were playing a game with dice, growling and cheering over the throws and drinking from earthenware mugs with every toss.
Maybe three dozen thieves were in the chamber, including those who’d returned with the party that had captured us. A few doors opened off the main room—more smugglers were likely inside the side chambers.
“As you can see,” the woman said, “we have quite an operation here.”
She turned and called to a small group of thieves leaning over a large map. “Daonok, join me please.”
A slight man dressed in black leather jumped up and trotted over. When he reached our group, he ran his eyes over Nyralit and me. “Who’s this?”
“That’s a good question. Hold a minute.” The leader walked to the table and plucked an apple from a platter. The crunch when she bit into it echoed off the ceiling.
The small man, Daonok, waited while she chewed. His dark eyes flicked back and forth between Nyralit and me. I got the sense there was intelligence behind them.
The woman swallowed her bite. “Found these two in the upper reaches. Wandered out of the tunnel that leads to House Ulstat.”
Daonok’s eyes narrowed. “Traders,” he spat.
I shook my head, readying a protest.
“That’s the interesting thing,” the woman said. “They claim otherwise.”
The man sneered. “Wouldn’t you deny being a trader if you were ambushed by a band of disreputable characters such as ourselves?”
I tugged at the rope binding my wrists. No use. “Trader Ulstat is holding my family captive,” I said. “If we don’t get back before dawn, he’ll kill them.”
“You see?” the woman said. “They have all sorts of stories to tell.” Her face sobered. “You understand why it’s a problem, though.”
Daonok nodded. “Doesn’t really matter who they are. We knew someone would come wandering out of that tunnel eventually. Should’ve caved it in long ago.”
The woman gave an ironic smirk. “Seems that way. So much fruit to be plucked from other ports. Was greedy of us to want to keep the opportunity for Ulstat plunder open.”
I strained against the knot binding my wrists and flinched when a muscle in my shoulder cramped. “I’m running out time,” I begged.
Bedraggled as she was, when Nyralit drew herself up to her full, elegant height, the thieves stilled and looked at her. “Please give us a chance. I’m Nyralit, strandmistress to the Nocturnai.”
“And I’m the Silent Queen,” the woman said, grinning. “Though I give you credit. That’s an inventive one. I should remember my manners, though. Ought to have introduced myself before. You can call me Caffari.” She curtsied with a smirk on her face.
Following her words, I felt a strange scratching at my walls. Not Tyrak—I always left a door open for his contact. I jerked at the touch of the foreign spirit and quickly reinforced my barriers to block it. After my previous experiences with the Araokan aether, I didn’t want to expose myself.
“So, what do we do with them?” asked the rough man who had a grip on my upper arm. He’d been casting a few longing glances at the game of dice.
Caffari quirked her mouth while she scanned the room. She pulled Tyrak from her belt and pointed with the blade toward a side chamber. “Stick them in there while we work this out.”
At the sight of my dagger, Daonok’s eyes widened. “Nice,” he said with a low whistle.
Caffari grinned. “Didn’t expect to have such fine pickings right outside our den.” She glanced around the room, sadness stealing over her face. "Will be a shame to leave this place . . .”
Daonok glared at us when he spoke. “Indeed. You’ve made us a fine home here.”
With a grunt, my guard shoved me toward the side chamber door. Every time he moved, the smell of leather and blade oil wafted off of him. It reminded me of the mercenary soldiers from Istanik. At least some of these
people were seasoned fighters like their leader.
The hinges squealed when Nyralit’s guard kicked the door open. Rather than shoving her, he laid a gentle hand on her back and nudged her in. I wished my guard would show the same courtesy, but then again, Nyralit hadn’t threatened to slit Caffari’s throat.
The door thudded shut behind us, trapping us with the scent of damp stone—a seam on the far wall leaked water. The chamber was only about ten paces across, piled high with plunder and supplies. Along one wall, a stack of casks towered above my head. Water? Whiskey? A pile of blankets nested in one corner while—of all things—a leather and wooden saddle had been tossed in another. Polished lapis lazuli decorated the stirrups. Beside it, the wheel from a ship leaned against the wall.
Standing in the middle of the room, Nyralit shivered. I blinked, remembering how wet her clothing had become. When I laid a hand on her arm, the silks were clammy beneath my palm.
“Here,” I said, guiding her to the blankets. “You need to get warm.”
I dug my toe through the pile, checking for rats. Fortunately, the smugglers didn’t seem to like rodents any more than honest people. The blankets smelled clean enough, so I helped Nyralit settle into their midst and draped her with a couple of thick, woolen covers.
Afterward, I hurried to the door and pressed my ear against it.
“. . .Can’t stay. It doesn’t mean were leaving for good, but we must behave as if the Ulstats will find this place. Soon. Our lives are more important than our home.” Pitched loudly, Caffari’s voice held a melancholy resolve. “If I were to guess, we have until midmorning. Better to be gone long before. Pack your most cherished trinkets, and we'll cart what we can deeper down. Leave just enough here to make the Ulstats think they found our trove.”
Grumbles followed her words.
“Why can't we just kill them? The Ulstats never have to know, right?” someone asked.
“The prisoners will be dealt with. Don’t think I’ll let someone force us from our home without earning a suitable punishment. But their deaths won't be enough. They entered the mine from House Ulstat. No doubt someone up there knows where they went. When they disappear, a search party will come looking. We can’t run the risk of being discovered. Now get packing.”
Killed? I glanced at Nyralit. Her eyelids looked heavy. No doubt she was exhausted from the stress and the cold. I’d tell her what I’d just heard after she had a chance to rest. For now, I squeezed the latch. Locked. I ran my hands over the wood, testing its strength. If it were flimsy enough, I might be able to batter my way through with one of those casks. Unfortunately, the wood planks were solid. The hinges were stamped from thick metal with no rust. But the lock had keyholes on both sides of the door. If I could just find a proper tool, I might be able to pick it.
As I turned from the door, I felt it again, the strange scratching at my walls. Ignoring it, I started pulling things off a shelf. Moldering books, a wooden bucket with a hole in the bottom. I dragged down a small leather case and opened the lid. Inside, combs carved from mother-of-pearl rested on a cushion covered with sleek fur. A small mirror of polished silver lay beside them as well as a pair of long, silver hairpins. Perfect.
Throwing the case aside, I hurried back to the door and wiggled the first hairpin into the lock. Rushing, I fumbled the other and had to start over. Once I had both worked into the keyhole, I closed my eyes to focus while I wiggled the lower hairpin, feeling around for the mechanism.
From outside the door, I heard hushed voices. If I wasn’t mistaken, Daonok and Caffari had moved closer and were speaking.
“I’ll stay behind,” Daonok said. “You can tell them you gave me the task.”
“Do you agree with this plan? I wonder if I’m being too soft,” Caffari said. “If the others found out, I’d lose their respect. It might even jeopardize my position.”
“It’s the right choice. There’s enough doubt about their identity. Anyway, they might still starve down here.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“No, not unless we want to risk ourselves,” Daonok said.
“Don’t wait too long to follow. I need my lieutenant.”
“Just long enough that the rest believe I had time to hide two bodies.”
So they weren’t going to kill us? It had just been an act for Caffari to protect her reputation? Shrugging, I went back to my work on the lock. Within the door, I felt the satisfying click as the first pin slid into place.
While I fished for the next pin, an idea wormed into my thoughts. Caffari didn’t want to kill us. She only cared about protecting her people and her hideout. And the Ulstats threatened both those things. She and I had a shared enemy and no reason to be at odds. If I could just figure out how to make her believe me . . .
I reached for Tyrak, but I couldn’t feel him. Caffari must’ve moved off. Trying again, I opened myself wider. I expected to feel the wailing torment of Araok’s aether seeping in as my walls thinned, but the sensation beyond my barriers was different. Calm almost. Orderly like it had been when I joined with the Vanished. What was this? Wary—I couldn’t forget the agony of being torn apart—I lowered my walls even further.
Like a sudden rapping at the door, the strange scratching I’d felt earlier returned, a sudden, insistent probing. But I felt no menace in it. Tentatively, I opened a gap in my wall.
A presence flowed in, almost as solid as when Tyrak moved beyond the dagger's boundaries. I sensed someone beside me, around me, exuding kindness and wonder.
Thank the tides, she said inside my mind. I thought I’d never get through.
Who is this? I said.
I've sensed you many times over the last few days, but I couldn’t get past the . . . others. The mad ones. Our territory doesn’t reach that far, not unless we want to risk ourselves.
I don’t understand.
I’m sorry. I forget to put things in the right order sometimes. First, the introduction. You are Lilik. I’ve heard it whispered from our border, from those brave enough to venture so close.
I blinked. What was this? What border? Yes . . . And you are?
It depends on who you ask. Some call me the Silent Queen, though I’m not so silent anymore, am I? But if you prefer, you can call me Leesa.
Chapter Fourteen
“NYRALIT,” I SAID, crouching beside her.
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Hmm . . .?”
“It’s Leesa Ulstat. She’s here.”
Jerking upright, Nyralit stared at me. “Here? What?”
“Her spirit.”
She blinked and dragged the blanket around her shoulders. The night’s adventures had painted dark circles around her eyes. “Here. In the aether, you mean.”
“Yes.”
The haze of sleep evaporated from her face. “The mine. Does she know it well enough to guide us out?”
It’s . . . Different for me, Leesa said. I don’t perceive the world like I did when alive. I remember the mine, but it's a faded recollection.
I know, I said. I have . . . I’ve met other spirits.
Is that why we’re drawn to you so strongly? She asked. Because you’ve met our kind before?
I thought back to Ioene and my first conversations with the vanished. They’d said I was like a light for them. They felt attracted to my presence, and Paono’s too. On Stanik Island, the nightstrands only responded when I actively reached for them. What was different about Leesa?
It's because of my channeling ability. I was born with the talent to speak to souls who’ve entered the aether.
Aether. Your friend used that word, too. That’s how you describe our realm?
I nodded. Yes. Leesa, I’d heard that you were mute. Did that change with your death?
I felt a trace of pride in her contact. During life, I had a complicated relationship with my voice. Sometimes I wished to speak but couldn’t. Other times, I knew I could form the words but chose not to. But in death, my voice and I are united in purp
ose.
“Lilik?” Nyralit asked.
“Sorry,” I said. “I was speaking with her.”
Nyralit nodded. “I figured as much. Can she help us?”
“We haven’t figured that out yet. But I was wondering . . . Do you know how to pick a lock? I’m close, just a little more jiggering. But it’s hard to feel the mechanism while concentrating on the aether.”
Nyralit laughed weakly. “If only I’d had such a practical upbringing.”
I gave her a half smile. It had been worth a try. “I’ll keep working at it.”
The hairpins still jutted from the keyhole. Gently, so as not to undo the progress I’d made, I pinched each between a thumb and forefinger. Jiggling the upper one, I felt for the small metal parts within the lock.
You said you sensed me before, but there was a problem with the boundary. What’s that? I asked.
Our realm is divided. The aether as you would say.
I felt her watching over my shoulder, a strange sensation. Other than through my connection with Tyrak, my contact with the nightstrands had been limited to thoughts and emotions. I wondered whether I’d ever learn about channeling and the aether like soul priestesses did during Zyri’s time.
Divided? I asked.
For us, there’s no real sense of physical place. Our kind are divided into tribes, you might say. The mad and the calm. Hatred against love. We cannot enter their domain without great pain.
But what are the borders? Not fences. Not walls.
No. Nothing physical.
But you said you couldn’t reach me. What stopped you?
You were with them. Amongst them. In their portion of the realm. It’s hard to describe because we still use the words we knew in our lives, yet our experience is so different.
Until tonight, though, I was inside House Ulstat and on the grounds. And when I felt the aether, it was full of Ulstat torment.
As I said, you were amongst them. There was one moment when they tried to . . . it felt like they wanted to shred you. Your light was spilling. So we fought.
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