by Shannon Page
“Come! Quickly!” the man whispered urgently.
“Why?” Was it time to heal Konrad already? In such secrecy that even light could not be risked? “Are you —?”
“It is Het!” he whispered. “Hurry! Before someone comes!”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, leaping to her feet, her inner darkness instantly eclipsed. “Oh, you’ve come!” She rushed toward the door as quickly as she could with so little light to see by. “I have a friend here — somewhere —” she began, but Het shushed her fiercely into silence, fumbling for her hand, then dragging her behind him, out, and down the dimly illuminated hallway, around a corner, and through the open doorway of yet another darkened cell. He turned to close its door behind them just as soon as they were in. Only then did he pull out one of his little globes of pale light and start herding her before him toward one of its grimy corners.
“Are we —?” she tried to ask, but again he shushed her.
Not until they got there did she see the displaced stone grate lying beside the darkened gap. “Down,” Het whispered, rushing past her to wriggle through first. When his head had vanished, Sian gathered her robes and did her best to follow. Halfway in, Het’s hands found her dangling, unshod feet and guided them toward a rung ladder so offset that she might never have found it by herself. Moments later, her toes touched down inside some kind of wet, unpleasant tunnel. As Het brushed past her, climbing back up to replace the grate above them, Sian turned and peered into the darkness, trying to make out their surroundings.
“Sian?” someone whispered from not far behind her.
Sian spun, still unable to see. “Who’s there?”
“It’s Freda.”
“Oh!” Sian cried. “Arian! Thank all the gods! He’s —”
“Shhhh!!!” said both Arian and Het at once.
“Oh. I’m …” Sian shut her mouth as she stumbled blindly toward her friend. Their outstretched hands found one another in the gloom, and they pulled each other into a fierce embrace. “You’re safe!” Sian couldn’t stop herself from whispering into Arian’s ear as they held each other. “I was so afraid you might already —”
“Het came for me first,” Arian whispered back. “But, please. He doesn’t know. I’m still just Freda.”
“Sorry. I’m so sorry. But I am so glad you are alive — and safe!”
“Not yet, we aren’t,” whispered Arian, “and Het has warned me that —”
“We must be silent still,” Het finished for her, gruffly, coming from behind them with his pale light. “No whispering even, until I tell you it is safe, yes?”
They both nodded in the soft illumination and turned to follow as he passed them, heading further down the sopping tunnel.
They traveled on in silence for some time, through corroded, heavy iron gates, for which Het always managed to produce a key, up and down more narrow iron ladders, turning corner after corner, even doubling back on some occasions. Sian’s heart stopped again each time someone stumbled or splashed too loudly, as they all paused to look up and listen apprehensively before continuing. Finally, they descended yet another set of iron rungs into a tunnel wider than the others, filled with the quiet rush of water coursing down a channel cut into its floor.
“Now,” Het said just loudly enough to be heard above the water’s murmur, “let us talk, yes?” He smiled at Sian. “Our Lady of the Islands is a powerful enchantress, is she not? To keep walking through our walls this way.” Sian looked down, blushing at all she owed this man. “So then, there are several places in the temple where you might be safely hidden until —”
“Wait,” said Arian. “I have a question first. Are you aware, by any chance, of the Ancients’ web of inter-island tunnels, Het?”
Sian had heard such stories. Mostly in her youth — from other youth who’d been told by older siblings. Old wives’ tales, she had been assured by elders. Tunnels running underneath the seabed itself? If such an engineering feat were even plausible, would they not just have been flooded anyway? Ridiculous tales, or so she had assumed.
Het’s brows climbed slightly. “That you know of them surprises me.”
Arian responded with a slight, if satisfied, smile. “I too have collected a few hidden and forgotten things, Father Het. What I want to know is whether these drainage tunnels join that network anywhere nearby. Do you know?”
He nodded. “But if you are thinking to escape that way, I would recommend against it. The entrance here is neither safe nor easy.”
“What is, these days?” Arian asked. “We really do need to get out of here as quickly as we can, and not just to save ourselves.”
He gave her a considering look. “The entrance I speak of is not far from here. Come. You may decide for yourselves.” He turned to lead them.
The buried watercourse they walked through was soon joined by others, and others after that, until their drainage channels had become wider, deeper, much louder streams. In time they heard a roaring up ahead and, minutes later, walked out into a vast chamber many stories high, densely lined in twining roots, hanging vine, and lavish foliage much farther up where it was better lit — by morning sun, it seemed. Many other drainage tunnels met here, combining at the chamber’s center where they emptied their contents into a giant shaft plunging straight down into darkness.
“There is your way into the greater tunnels!” Het had to shout, so deafening was the roar of falling water here. There was surely little risk they’d even hear each other now, from more than a few feet away, much less that they’d be overheard. “Ladders there, and there! Do you still wish to brave it?”
Sian looked where he was pointing, just able to make out two lines of slender metal rungs driven straight into the shaft’s drenched rock walls. Each of these ladders descended at the center of a narrow strip of moss-slicked rock hemmed in by mere inches on either side by tons of crashing water. Well, so much for that hope, Sian thought.
Looking as discouraged as Sian felt, Arian yelled, “It is the only choice we have!”
“What?” Sian hollered back above the noise. “You can’t be serious!”
“I don’t suppose you know what we would find down there!” Arian asked Het, ignoring Sian.
Looking as surprised as Sian was, Het burst into laughter. “If you knew me better, Freda, you would have no need to ask!” He shot her a devilish grin, which Arian returned. “This shaft was among the first mysteries I felt compelled to plumb here as a boy!” He shrugged. “In my spare time, of course! We were not allowed to come here at all, much less try such reckless things as climbing down!”
“Is it flooded at the bottom?” Arian shouted.
He shook his head. “But it is darker and colder than night! Not like up here! You will be soaking wet before you reach the bottom — which is no short distance!” His smile vanished. “It will not be hard to fall!”
Sian could not believe they were even having such a conversation. “Freda, I don’t think I’m fit to do this!”
Arian glanced warily at Het, then shook her head in obvious frustration and shouted back to Sian, “He’s told me there’s no other way to sneak us out of here right now! Who knows how long we’d have to hide inside the temple before some other chance arrives! My absence cannot be concealed forever! If we are to avoid calamity then we must get back now!” She turned back to Het. “Is there any other way at all?”
He shook his head, looking at her very strangely. “Please forgive me for prying, Freda,” he yelled, “but I could not help hearing Sian call you Arian!” Arian’s expression became stony. She looked down with hooded eyes. “Surely … that could not be Arian des Chances, could it?”
Sian could feel herself blanch as Arian’s eyes closed in resignation.
Het’s brows climbed almost to his hairline. “Please, do not worry, my lady! I am not a man unskilled at keeping secrets, as you must surely know by now! While I would give most of my stolen keys to learn what the Factora-Consort is doing here, like this, inside the temple,
I know better than to ask, yes?”
“I’m sorry, Father Het!” she yelled. “Both that you’ve guessed, and that I cannot tell you more! There is just too much at stake! If you were caught before all this is over …”
“You need not explain, my lady! I understand! But there is something you should know, I think! Your … rather spectacular visit here not long ago —”
“I lost my head!” she cut in. “I regret that now! I have no desire to alienate the entire Mishrah-Khote! I just —”
Het held up his hands to interrupt her. “Many here agreed with you, my lady! There has been insurrection brewing for some time, in need of little but a spark to light its fuse, yes? Your very public altercation with Duon, it has provided that spark! There will be revolt inside the temple, very soon, I think!”
Sian gaped at him, as did Arian.
Het glanced again at the great shaft of falling water beside them. “It is, perhaps, better that you go, if you are willing to risk this way, my lady! What is coming will likely ignite sufficient chaos to assist in covering your departure, but such chaos is itself unsafe, yes? Especially for you, perhaps.”
So, we may throw ourselves down this great dark hole, Sian thought, or wait here to dash through the temple’s own little civil war when it erupts. It made her want to laugh, and sit down somewhere quickly before her legs gave way.
“Father Het … I don’t know what to say!” Arian replied. “I never meant to cause such trouble — everywhere I go, it seems!”
“You did not cause this trouble, my lady! We have caused it! Over many years now! You have only moved us to face the cost of cure! That is one of the first things an acolyte is taught to do here!” He looked down and shook his head. “But no one does! Least of all, our teachers!” He looked up at Arian again, and smiled. “The gods have heard your cry for Duon’s fall, my lady! Their answer is already on its way!”
“Then I guess we should be too,” said Arian, looking even paler now, as she gazed down the shaft they meant to climb. “I do not suppose you might want to come with us, Father Het? Might you not be safer elsewhere once our escape has been discovered?”
“I wish I could!” Het shouted. “It worries me deeply to send you and Sian down there alone! But there are many factions here vying to define our future once Duon’s regime is past! I must stay to help make sure the right ones prevail! And there are treasures in this temple — not of gold, but of recorded wisdom and historical perspective — that some will wish conveniently destroyed during the coming conflict! That must not happen either, if we are to emerge from this rebellion any better than we have become! I and my collection,” he patted his illicit ring of keys, “will be needed to see them kept out of harm’s way!” He shook his head. “I am sorry, but I must remain here now!”
“I wish you well then, Father Het!” Arian replied.
“Do you have any food?” Sian asked Het, blushing yet again. She didn’t know how long they might remain down in the depths, but she feared even trying to climb these ladders without something in her stomach to keep up her strength.
“Sadly, no!” Het called back. “I had just planned to take you a short ways into some hiding place! But I could go find something, and bring it back here!”
“No!” Arian replied before Sian could answer. “Too much time has already passed! Who knows what’s happened out there since we disappeared? Or who’s already searching for us right here in the temple? We have to go, while we still can!”
“You will need more clothing than those silks, I fear!” Het shouted. “And light!” He reached up to unfasten the clasp of his rough-spun cloak and hood, then shrugged out of them and held them out to Sian. “There are a few glow floats in one of its pockets! You remember how they work, yes?”
“I do! But give the cloak to Arian! My gift may help protect me from the cold as well! She has no such power to rely on!”
Arian shook her head. “I’m sure that I can handle cold as well as hunger if I must, but won’t the absence of your cloak seem suspicious to someone, Father Het?”
Het shook his head, grinning at Sian. “I have a reputation for irresponsibility, and am known to misplace my clothing every now and then!”
“Stop arguing, and take the cloak!” Sian called crossly, forgetting altogether whom it was she yelled at for a moment. “I tried to refuse his gifts last time, and was very glad I hadn’t later.”
She saw Arian heave an impatient sigh and reach to take the cloak and hood from Het.
“You appear to be in need of sandals as well!” Het said to Sian. “Unfortunately I have none to offer you except my own! Would you like them?”
Sian looked down at his feet, and shook her head. “They are far too big!” She glanced toward the roaring shaft. “I can’t imagine climbing down that wearing those. Thank you, but if we’re doing this, we’d just better go!”
“You know how to find your way, when you are down there?” Het asked Arian.
“I do!” she called, already turning to go. “Goodbye, Father Het, and good luck! If we all live through this, I will find some way to reward you adequately!”
“You already have, my lady!” Het pointed upward, toward the surface. “You have ended our long sleep! For that, I thank you!” He grinned at her, then turned to startle Sian with a fierce hug. “Take care of her,” he said against her ear. “She is the bravest woman I have ever known, except for you, My Lady of the Islands. Do not let her fall.” He pulled back, and looked her gravely in the eyes. “In any way.”
Sian glanced over at Arian. The Factora-Consort met her eye across the span of raging water, gave her a brave smile, then started down.
They had decided to take separate ladders, without ever saying aloud what they both knew: that if one of them should fall, there would be nothing the other could do — except be knocked off in turn, if she were straight below. Here, at the chasm’s edge, the roar of water was already too loud to permit even shouted conversation. Inside the shaft there would be no hope at all of further communication before they were reunited at the bottom. Their robes were knotted up around their waists now, lest their feet become entangled in the hems. Sian shuddered at the thought. Arian had removed her sandals too, agreeing that bare feet would be better on the ladder. She had secured them with the glow floats inside a pocket of Het’s thick cape, now fastened tightly at her chest and throat.
Sian took a deep breath. There was nothing left to do but start.
Just swinging her bare feet over the huge shaft’s lip onto that first wet rung was almost too frightening to manage. Sian waited, immobilized with fear, for what seemed many minutes before moving further in. Both hands clenched around the sopping rung before her face. One foot lowered to the rung below. Footing checked and checked again. One hand pried loose and lowered down a rung. Her second foot brought down beside the first. Her second hand. Her first foot down another rung. Then another hand. The second foot. The second hand. A foot. A hand. A foot. A hand. The roar became ubiquitous. The world closed in to one rung at a time. A foot. A hand. A foot. The rungs, at first sharp with corrosion, soon grew slick with slime and dangling moss. For all her distaste at the feel of slime against her soles, she could well imagine how impossible Maronne’s stiff sandals would have been here.
With knuckles white around their dripping bar, one foot scraped carefully against a rung too slippery to trust, struggling for some credible purchase. Then more scraping with her second foot. By now the constant rain of spray was so thick that Sian’s hair and dress hung straight and limp around her like wet laundry, cold and heavy. She risked a glance across the cataract that separated herself from Arian, and saw, as she had feared, Het’s cloak and hood hanging from the other woman’s shoulders, dark and weighted now with moisture too. A moment’s sympathy, and guilt, as Sian realized how much heavier that cloak must be than her own sopping dress. Nonetheless, Arian was further down already than Sian, moving faster, looking far more self-assured.
Another foot.
Another hand. A foot. A hand. A foot. Scraping, always scraping now for purchase through the slime. Another foot, another hand. Was it getting darker? How far down had they already come? Sian looked up and saw the chasm’s edge not quite ten feet above. Eyes closed in helpless desperation and disgust. This will take forever — even if I don’t die here. If she fell, perhaps she’d simply heal at the bottom. Should I just let go and get it over with? Not thoughts to be having here. Or anywhere. Stop thinking! One foot down. One hand. Another foot, another hand …
Many lifetimes later it was getting truly dark. Sian’s arms and legs had long ago begun to cramp and tremble with fatigue and cold. Just enough light still filtered down the cataracts to let her see her hands and feet, if only as ghostly forms against the darker ghosts of wall and ladder. But she worried now — vaguely, for her mind was numbing too — about how much longer there would be any light at all to see by. She dreaded the thought of having to feel her way in utter blindness down these sopping, slippery rungs into the void. She was not sure how much longer her trembling body would keep doing what she told it to. She glanced over yet again to check on Arian, but it was too dark. She could no longer spot her, which might just mean that Arian had descended too much faster to be seen anymore … Or that she had fallen — her screams drowned with her in the constant roar. Stop it. Stop. By all the gods, she wished that she could, though she was not sure her arms and legs would heed even the call to stop now, so accustomed had they grown to their endless repetition. Down …
Each step was her last. Each time a hand was lowered to the next rung down, she knew it would not move again. She stopped for many minutes, maybe hours, between every step now, trembling spastically. Her hunger was all but forgotten, buried underneath the blanket of weakness it had left behind. They were going to kill her anyway. If not today, then after she had healed Konrad, surely. At least this was an end she had chosen. She would die belonging to herself now, not to some arrogant shell of a man like Duon, composed of nothing but empty, billowing robes …