by Brondos, Pam
The wooden door creaked. She inched it closed and shuffled across the floor. Three galvanized tubs ranging in size occupied the top of a raised platform. She turned on the tap above the small tub and scrubbed the sticky residue from her hands. The cold water numbed her fingers. She cupped her hands under the stream, splashed her face, and looked at her dim reflection in the mirror hanging above the tub. A cold, blurry image stared back at her.
“Natalie?” Nat heard the door open and jumped at the sound of Soris’ voice. He touched her arm reassuringly.
“What are you doing here?” Nat whispered. “Aren’t you and Annin supposed to leave before we do?”
“Yes, so I’ll make this quick. Don’t be mad at Andris for what he did yesterday. It didn’t take me long to figure out his motivation for not waiting for you and Annin. He swore to Estos that he’d make sure no harm came to you; he was just trying to protect you.”
Nat kept quiet. She watched his shadowy reflection in the mirror, wondering what lies Andris had fed Soris to get him to believe he cared a shred about her safety.
“But he made a mistake and underestimated how important you are to seeing this mission through,” he added quickly. “I may have my own reasons for wishing you weren’t here, but none of them have anything to do with your abilities as a Sister.”
She turned around, and he brought his hand to her cheek. His touch sent a wave of warmth through her.
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid today,” he said as his gaze lingered on her face.
“As long as you don’t, I won’t.” She looked him straight in the eye.
He laughed quietly, then dropped his chin. His expression grew serious as he brought his other hand up, cradling her face. She felt her heart quicken its pace. “One more thing, Natalie.”
“What’s that?” Her voice trembled as he leaned closer. Her words were lost as he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her gently at first, then pulling her tightly toward him as she curled her fingers through his hair. Her orb flared with light above them.
“I guess my orb knows I’m happy,” she said when their lips parted. The orb dimmed, but she could see the smile stretch across Soris’ face.
“See you at the Rewall, Sister.” He brushed his hand over her hair. Still smiling, he slipped out the door.
“See you at the Rewall,” she whispered, feeling a little weak in the knees. Her orb spun close to her heart, and she held it in her hands. I will find a cure, Soris. After this mission is over I’ll go back to the Healing House, talk to Ethet and Ethes, work through their treatments, find something . . .
A sharp rapping sounded on the door. “Sister,” Andris’ said in a harsh whisper. Nat quickly splashed another handful of water on her face and bolted to the yard. “Nice of you to show up on time,” he remarked when she appeared.
“You smell like rudit.” Benedict’s nasal voice rose behind her. He shuffled to her side. A long green robe trailed behind him. Nat squinted and noticed a brown wig covering his head. “Fringe Sisters. If I never meet another one, it will be too soon,” he complained. She ignored the comment and inspected his costume. In the dark, he looked just like the Chemist.
“Are Annin and Soris gone?” She kept her eyes on the ground, knowing Andris would be able to read her emotions if she looked at him.
“Yes, and I’ll thank you if we miss meeting up with them. Matilda is waiting.” He thrust a heavy black cloak into her hands. The three of them moved silently down a stone path to a tall gate flanked by conifers. Andris pushed open the gate and peered into the dark alley. He motioned for Nat and Benedict to follow, then sprinted into the darkness.
They crossed a cobblestone intersection. Nat and Andris ran into the next lane with Benedict trailing behind them. Hearing the sound of running water, Nat glanced through the broken slats of a wooden fence while they waited for him. Water burbled out of a little fountain in the middle of a well-kept yard. The water flowed over the image of a sun. Nat smiled at the hidden symbol of the Healing House in the middle of Rustbrook.
Benedict caught up, and the trio walked hurriedly down a lane to a deserted market. A rickety buggy stood in front of a boarded-up stall. Matilda, dressed in a shoddy cloak, sat atop the two-wheeled cart. A brown donkey, hitched to the wagon, turned its enormous ears as they approached. Andris and Benedict climbed onto the back of the wagon and tucked their knees tight to their chests. Matilda arranged containers of garbage around them, obscuring them from view. Nat climbed onto the narrow bench after Matilda was done arranging the smelly baskets and burlap bags.
“Pull that hood farther around your face,” Matilda advised as she snapped the reins. The donkey took a reluctant step forward. The cart didn’t move. Matilda snapped the reins again and the donkey lurched forward, jerking the cart into motion.
The cart rolled along the bumpy cobblestones. Dim lights shone through a few windows as they rode through alleys. Matilda stopped to pick up a container of garbage even though the cart bed overflowed with refuse. A splash of water hit the donkey in the nose.
“Watch it!” Matilda cursed at a shopkeeper emptying a pail of sludgy-looking water into the alley. He scratched the dirty apron covering his massive belly, waved dismissively, and returned to the back entrance of his shop.
Little clusters of houses replaced the shops as they traveled on. The rhythmic clop of the donkey’s hooves and the sound of the wheels hitting the cobblestones lulled Nat to sleep. She jerked her head up and blinked. The castle, under the light of the setting moon, appeared on the hill behind them. The cart passed underneath a high red-stone gate. Nat pulled her hood even lower when she noticed a slumbering guard on a chair next to the gate.
Despite being higher on the hill, the houses and shops they passed looked dilapidated. A dog bolted in front of the cart, chasing a creature with a long tail. Nat’s skin crawled when she saw the rat clamber onto a rickety porch and scamper across the thin metal roof of a house. Potholes filled the street and the cart bounced dangerously.
“Where are we?” whispered Nat.
“It’s the Rewall, the oldest part of the city, dear.” Matilda’s sharp nose stuck out from her hood. “Where the indentured ones live,” she added.
“You mean slaves?”
“Yes.” She nodded gravely. “Some are free to come and go and run their own businesses and lives if it serves Mudug’s purposes, but they owe him debts and he takes his payment in many forms. So does the Chemist.” She frowned and returned her stony stare to the road. “You’ll find it easier to pass through the gates to the castle from here. I learned a few days ago that the Chemist has Mudug’s guards bringing Rewall residents through a nearby entrance to his quarters in increasing numbers.”
They turned onto a side lane. A square surrounded by crumbling open arches spread out in front of them. An earthy, putrid smell rose from the square.
“What for?” Nat scrunched her nose.
“Experimenting with riven.” Matilda pulled the reins, and the donkey came to an abrupt stop. She hopped off the cart and lifted a burlap bag filled with rotten food and placed it in a trough that ran along one side of the square. “Get another bag,” she urged Nat under her breath. “They’ll topple the garbage if they try to climb out with that stack above them.”
Nat obediently grabbed the uppermost basket and dumped the contents into the trough, wondering all the while about what Matilda had said. The garbage ran down a slide into a pit. A figure moved in the darkness below, mixing the garbage into a clump of brown dirt before carting it off. Matilda heaved another bag into the trough and dropped it loudly just as Nat heard a thud on the packed dirt behind her.
Benedict crouched next to the wagon. Andris, draped in a black cloak, ran across the square toward one of the columns supporting the curved beams. Benedict limped quickly after him. He grasped his long cloak, keeping the robe tight around him. Matilda gestured for Nat to follow them.
“Thank you,” Nat whispered.
Matilda nodd
ed once. “Take care, Sister.” She climbed onto the cart.
Nat grabbed one more bag and spread its contents out along the trough, hiding Benedict’s labored movements from the figures working in the pit. She let go of the burlap bag and it drifted down, landing on a clump of soil. Matilda’s cart bounced over rubble strewn around the square and disappeared into the darkness.
The light of dawn colored the flags flying above the castle, but night still clung to the Rewall. Andris, Nat, and Benedict darted from the shadowy columns to the base of a watchtower. The curved cap crowning the tower stood empty. Andris reached into his pocket and produced a fake beard and mustache. He dropped them into her hands and disappeared around the base of the tower to find Annin and Soris.
Nat smoothed the fake beard over her chin, hoping Mervin had delivered Annin and Soris to their drop-off spot in the Rewall as easily as Matilda had the three of them. After her fight with Andris the night before, Annin had explained the danger in all five of them traveling together through the city. The plan made sense, but Nat’s nerves were now on edge as she and Benedict hung back in the shadows waiting for Andris to return. She glanced at the old man as he fidgeted with the edge of his robe, thinking he looked as nervous as she felt.
Andris reappeared with them, and Nat let out a breath of relief. Annin and Soris pulled black cloth sacks over their heads, and Andris loosely bound their hands behind their backs. When he was done, he locked eyes with Nat and made a knocking motion with his hand.
Nat unsheathed her dagger and knocked on the narrow wooden door set into the old watchtower. The sound echoed in the quiet of the early morning. She waited, listening, but heard nothing. Andris made another knocking motion, his eyes wide with impatience. She rapped on the door again and heard a clanging come down the tower stairs. Andris pulled a loose black mask over his face. The door opened, and a bleary-eyed guard leaned against the frame. The smell of alcohol rolled off him. He swayed toward Nat.
“You smell like rudit,” the soldier slurred and wiped his nose with his hand.
Nat sprang forward and held the dagger under his throat. “And you smell like death,” she said in a low voice, pushing him back into the guard tower. He tripped over a stool and landed with a thud on his back. He scrambled up, balled his hands into fists, and was just about to spring on Nat when he froze.
Benedict coughed, lowered his hood, and raised his head. Andris, his face hidden by the mask, stepped behind him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the Hermit drawled. “Finding decent guards is almost impossible, and it would put me out if mine were injured. I don’t like being put out,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Your Chemistness?” The guard squinted in the dim light.
“Who do I look like, the city toymaker?” Benedict stepped forward and slapped the guard across the face.
“No, no, sir.” The guard straightened. “I wasn’t advised you’d be coming through the gate.” Benedict glared at the guard. “Not that your activities are any of my business, sir.”
Benedict nodded in approval. “No, they are not,” he said sharply. He turned to Andris. “Bring them in,” he ordered in an aloof voice.
Andris retreated through the door and pushed Annin and Soris, their heads and duozi features covered by the sacks, through the opening.
“Now, if any whining family comes looking for missing loved ones, you saw nothing.” Benedict’s voice held a steely edge. The guard looked at the hooded figures and nodded. “I’m glad we have an understanding. Now get back into that tower before I turn you in for being drunk on duty.”
The guard stumbled up the stairs, glancing nervously back once to find Benedict still glaring at him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Andris guided the hooded figures with gentle shoves. They stumbled across a path set close to the castle walls, then ducked under the branches of a willow tree. Nat pulled Soris’ and Annin’s hoods off and dug her fingers into the loose knots around Soris’ wrists.
Andris yanked the mask off his head. “Well done, Hermit.” His praise sent a slight flush up Benedict’s pale cheeks. Beads of perspiration clung to Andris’ forehead. He stuffed his mask away and untied the rope binding Annin’s wrists.
“Your beard,” Benedict said to Nat as he leaned against a moss-covered tree trunk.
“Thanks,” she replied and ripped it off her face. Benedict stretched over his withered limb, exposing the tall heel of one of his boots. Nat felt a pang of sympathy for him. He’d managed to walk with a straight gait since they’d encountered the guard. His leg must be killing him, she thought.
“No time to dawdle. Move,” Andris ordered, directing them to a shed nestled in the willow grove. Nat passed through the decrepit shed’s door. The interior smelled like stale dirt. Rows of old shovels and spades lined the walls.
“A little light, Sister.” Annin’s voice came from the darkness in front of her. Nat released her orb, and it illuminated piles of rusted, broken rakes that choked the back of the shed. Annin squinted in the sudden light, then disappeared behind an old wheelbarrow. The sound of splintering wood made Nat cringe. Just get us into the tunnels before someone finds us.
“Keep it down, Annin,” Andris growled.
Annin emerged from behind the wheelbarrow, covered in dirt. “It’s not my fault some Sister sealed over the hatch. Watch your head as you go down,” she advised.
Soris peered into the dark stairwell in the floor of the shed. The orb spun around and descended into the hole, creating a patch of light in the darkness. He looked at Annin. “Snakes?”
She nodded and he jumped down the stairs, disappearing into the inky darkness. Nat moved to follow, but Annin stuck out her hand, pressing against Nat’s chest.
“Give him a minute, he’s clearing the unfriendlies from the path.” She smiled crookedly. Nat shuddered, thinking of the tunnel eater.
Soris’ face appeared below them. His Nala eye glinted in the light of Nat’s orb. “It’s clear.” He stepped to the side. Benedict eased himself down the stairs, steadying himself against the packed dirt walls. Andris disappeared into the hole after Benedict.
“Your turn.” Annin pointed to the opening. Nat took a deep breath and climbed down the crumbling steps. Roots wound their way through the dirt walls of the tunnel. She ducked under one that grew across the earthen ceiling. Its hairlike fibers clung to her hood and smeared her forehead with an earthy streak. She heard the sound of the hatch falling into place and Annin’s soft footsteps. Annin sidled past and crouched on the dirt floor in front of Andris. Nat directed her orb to hover over Annin’s head.
“This tunnel leads beneath the Representatives’ Building.” Annin drew a rectangle with a line running underneath it in the dirt floor. “The passage splits here.” She marked a spot below the opposite side of the Representatives’ Building with her finger. “We’ll take the tunnel leading into the service quarters of the castle here and end at this spot, the old Sisters’ accommodations.” She leaned back on her heels. “Those rooms are adjacent to the courtyard where the Chemist has his quarters. This route should get us as close as we can go without walking the halls of the castle, I think,” she added.
“You think? I thought you knew these tunnels like the back of your hand.” Andris wiped a smudge of dirt from his brow.
“I do.” Annin’s lips curled down. “But so does Emilia. She may have divulged their location.” Her words hung in the air. “Let me lead.” She poked her finger at Andris. “I make the decisions on where and when to move forward. I can tell if something’s askew.”
His face twitched. The notion that someone else would control the progress of this mission and decide its direction must be killing him, Nat thought.
“Not advisable. You should lead, Andris. They can’t be trusted,” Benedict said nervously. Nat rubbed her forehead, wondering why he continually acted as if Soris and Annin weren’t there or couldn’t hear him. “There’s a possibility they could lead us—”
“T
hey could lead us where?” Annin thrust her face in front of Benedict. His eyes grew wide.
“Do you think this has all been a ruse to get you to a secret Nala lair?” Soris said to the Hermit. “If we’d wanted you dead—”
“Enough.” Andris ushered Annin and Soris down the cramped tunnel.
Benedict huffed. “Did you hear? He’s threatening me!” He waved his hands, casting snakelike shadows against the dirt walls.
“No one is threatening you,” Andris said as if addressing a petulant child. “Annin, lead the way. Hermit, you’re between the Sister and me. Perhaps that separation will calm your nerves. Soris—”
“I know, brother, bring up the rear.” Soris exchanged a frustrated look with him.
The tunnel felt suffocating to Nat. The earthen walls curved in toward her head, forcing her to duck to avoid scraping her hair against the loose soil above her. Showers of dirt fell into her eyes and down the neck of her tunic, and she wondered if the tunnel would simply give way on them, burying them beneath the castle. The smell of rudit still lingered in her hair and clothes and mixed with the damp odor of the tunnel, causing Nat to breathe through her mouth.
Benedict grumbled until Andris told him he’d ride on Soris’ back if he complained any more. The Hermit sniffed, but said nothing more. Andris isn’t helping Soris’ case by using him as a threat, Nat thought. Her orb zoomed by her head, lighting the path for those behind her. She shook the dirt out of her tunic and wished Andris would be more sensitive to Soris’ plight.
“Keep your orb under control,” Andris barked after it hit him in the head on its return run toward Annin. She shrugged, knowing she needed to be more careful. She’d noticed how sensitive her orb was to her thoughts. The orb smacking Andris on the head was likely not an accident.
A worn column appeared in the light of the orb. Its platelike crown held the earth in place where the path split in two directions. A thin line of birds, suns, vines, and swords decorated the border of the plate and curved around the front of the column. Nat ran her fingers over the designs, wondering how long the images had existed in this tomblike tunnel.