by Sharon Hinck
My throat thickened and I swallowed.
Mark rested his head against mine. “Give Jake the strength he needs,” he said, “and help us find him.”
We sat together for a minute, letting the silence seep into our blood.
“Ready?” Mark stood, pulling me up with him.
“Um, sure.” But ready for what? Did he have a plan in mind? A foolproof way to escape an enclave of assassins, cross miles of wilderness, and reach the River Borders?
He walked to the door and pulled a recessed lever. The door slid open.
My eyebrows climbed. “I figured we were locked in. I wouldn’t have even thought to try the door.”
We stepped into the hallway.
Crouched like an angry gnome, Trennor sat against the wall facing our door, hugging his knees and scowling in our direction.
I tried my friendliest smile. “Good morning. How are you? We slept well. Were you waiting for us long?”
Trennor’s glare narrowed as he rose in a fluid movement. “The master will speak with you after his training cycles today. I’m to . . . take care of you until then.” He leaned back against the wall, fingering the scolopendra talon hanging from a cord around his neck.
I was tempted to thank him again for killing the monster, but thought better of it. No need to irritate him.
Mark and I waited for Trennor to tell us what to do next. He shuffled one foot and shifted his weight, but apparently was at a loss as to how to proceed. It seemed Kahlarean boys possessed even fewer social graces than some human boys I’d encountered.
“We’d appreciate some breakfast,” I said. “Could you show us back to the dining hall?”
He scratched at his ear. “Trainees only eat once a day. We don’t have time to waste on more food than necessary.”
Did he expect us to just stand around this hallway all day? I pasted on a smile. “But we’re not trainees. We could use some breakfast.”
He worried his lips from side to side.
If Mark and I were going to explore the enclave and search for escape routes, we needed to gain Trennor’s trust . . . and get moving.
Mark cleared his throat. “Lucy here is a great cook. If you take us back to the kitchen, I bet she’d be happy to help with tonight’s meal for the trainees.”
Lucy? What kind of alias was that? I shot a glare in Mark’s direction. “And Ricky will help me.”
Mark lifted an eyebrow and grinned.
Trennor pushed himself away from the wall. “Fine, then. Good a place as any to keep you busy.” He stalked off down the hallway.
Mark and I hurried to follow him. Trennor’s annoyance at babysitting us reminded me of Karen and her teenage mood swings. I’d give anything to hear one of her sarcastic comments today. Or Jon and Anne arguing. An ache built in my chest, but I fought it down. I needed to focus. We had to find a way to escape.
We walked along the hall, turning again and again through subterranean passages. I wouldn’t be able to find the way back to our room, much less the entrance.
“What causes the walls to glow?” I asked, my voice sounding loud after the silence.
Trennor let out a hiss that I took to be a sigh. “The darnite.”
“Those blue threads in the walls? Must save you a lot of magchips, since you don’t need as many light panels. It sure is beautiful.”
Mark’s brows drew together, and he stared at me as if wondering where my brain had gone.
In our partnership’s division of labor, conversation was my specialty. And here, conversation might give us information we could use. I winked at him, then turned my focus back to our young Kahlarean. “So, Trennor, have you lived here long?”
“Yes,” Trennor bit out, and stalked ahead faster.
He didn’t seem to be warming to me.
As the boy led us forward, he shifted suddenly, hopscotching side to side. I realized he was maneuvering over flat stepping-stones. A channel of water, the same level as the floor, cut across the hall, flowing from and into rooms on either side of us.
Mark bent down and dipped his hand in the water. Ahead of us, Trennor was about to go around another corner.
“Where does this go?” Mark mouthed silently.
I balanced on two of the stone squares and crouched to stare at the water. How deep was it? Could we use the stream to find an exit?
“What are you doing?” Trennor had turned back.
I straightened. “The river looks beautiful in the light from the darnite. Is this the border river? I didn’t realize it flowed through the mountain.”
“It doesn’t.” Trennor gestured for us to start walking again. “We built these channels.” His chest puffed up as if the plumbing system were all his idea.
If I played on his ego, maybe he’d keep revealing facts that Mark and I could use. “That’s brilliant. So you’ve got constant running water.”
Trennor scoffed and forged ahead.
So much for more reconnaissance. Mark offered his hand and helped me along the stepping-stones. He gave my fingers a squeeze before releasing me.
Trennor led us into the dining hall with its long table, and to the wall with the pass-through. He stopped at a door. “I don’t think Anataz would like anyone messing with his kitchen.”
“Is he your cook?” I asked. “Why don’t you go ask him? Tell him I’m willing to help.”
Trennor squinted, clearly troubled by the pressures of making decisions. “I can’t disturb Anataz. He was one of our highest ranked assassins before he became too old for active duty. Just find yourselves some food quickly before he comes back.” Trennor opened the door, and we went into the kitchen.
It wasn’t a huge room, but it was at least twice as big as our kitchen back home. Across from us, a long counter ran the entire length of the kitchen. Various cooking utensils and containers lay on the counter in a haphazard way. To our left, the floor was covered with heat trivets on which huge pots simmered. The smell wafting from them was a cross between fishy chowder and burnt celery.
To our right, the water channel flowed along the wall, just below floor level, exiting the kitchen through a low rock archway. I glanced at Mark. He also made note of the channel, then quickly looked away.
“Help yourselves,” Trennor said, waving his hand as he sat down on a stool by the counter. Mark and I searched the cupboards and a pantry-like alcove at the far end of the kitchen for any familiar breakfast foods, but there was no sign of bacon and eggs, or oatmeal, or even clavo; so we settled for some small bread loaves.
We edged away from the odorous boiling pots, but the other end of the kitchen was pervaded with a musty smell I couldn’t identify. “What is that smell?” I asked as we munched on our bread.
“The vegetables are fermenting,” replied Trennor. “That’s how we make them soft enough to eat.”
I peered at a stack of root vegetables on the counter. “Do they need to be peeled? I’d be happy to help.”
Trennor rubbed his forehead. We’d apparently stretched his decision-making abilities to the point of pain. “I suppose no one would mind that.” He gestured to some paring knives. “You peel them into the river. The current takes it out.”
I gathered a handful of the long narrow roots and carried them to the river, blocking Mark from Trennor’s sight long enough for Mark to pocket one of the knives.
He moved casually to the channel of water. “So this flows straight out to the border river?”
“What do you think you’re doing in here?” hissed an angry voice. Mark and I turned to see a Kahlarean older than any we’d seen before standing in the doorway. Fine lines crossed his pale, chinless face, making him look like a turnip left in the sun too long. But his forearms rippled with lean cords of muscle as he lowered a massive crate to the counter with a thud.
Trennor stiffened, head bowed. “Th-th
-the . . . guests needed food. I didn’t want to disturb you, sir.”
“Sorry for intruding.” Fighting off the chilling reminder that we were surrounded by enemies, I tried a friendly smile. “We were just offering to peel some vegetables to repay the enclave’s hospitality.”
“Get out of my kitchen,” hissed Anataz. He grabbed Trennor by the neck of his tunic and shoved him toward the door. Mark and I quickly followed.
“It’s time for me to take you to the master, anyway,” Trennor said sulkily. “Follow me.”
Trennor led us up the hall and into the large main cavern. Once again, small groups of Kahlareans were engaged in combat drills. Between tall light pillars, I glimpsed young men leaping, climbing, and swinging from bars in a type of obstacle course. Their athleticism had a strange beauty to it, but they moved in eerie silence. I remembered the twilight attack outside the Lyric council tower, when Kahlarean assassins had seemed to appear out of thin air.
“How often do you train?” I asked.
Trennor barely turned his head. “All the time. Everything is training.”
At one point Trennor moved over to the side of the tunnel, right up against the wall. We followed suit, and I was just about to ask why we had to be so far to the side when a whir of movement flashed past me. A running drill. The whole group was silent, but somehow Trennor had known they were coming.
We followed him through several stark chambers and into a room dominated by a still, dark pool in the center. Master Voronja squatted near the side, staring into the depths. This cavern had no lightwalls or pillars and was illuminated only by the fluorescent veins running through the rock in the floor, walls, and ceiling, and reflecting on the skin of the water. I stepped forward, feeling as disoriented as if I were walking through a planetarium.
With a quick bow, Trennor slipped from the room.
Mark stepped past me. “We appreciate the shelter last night, but we need to keep traveling.”
The master pulled his gaze from the pool and beckoned us to come closer. The soft light highlighted fine wrinkles on his pale skin as he frowned. “We’ve given you safe passage, but before you leave, we need your assistance.”
I tried to gauge the sincerity of the Kahlarean’s expression, Mark’s dire assessment of our situation still simmering in my thoughts. When in doubt, build relationship. I settled onto the ground beside him, tailor style. “Of course, whatever we can do.”
“We don’t have many interactions with the clans, but we have another visitor here, and we have some questions for him. But he’s been . . . unhelpful.”
I shot Mark a questioning look. His arms crossed, muscles in his shoulders and neck pinched with tension—it was clear that the strain of being around his lifelong enemies was wearing on him.
What else could we do? If we acted friendly and cooperative, we could keep our eyes open for any way to escape. “I’d love to meet someone else from the clans. And I’m happy to return the favor of your hospitality.”
Mark made a low sound in his throat, but I ignored that.
The master’s large eyes stared at me for a long moment. I didn’t blink.
His expression didn’t change as he rose. “Good. This way.”
He led us around the edge of the pool to the back wall. As we drew closer, the faint outlines of a door became visible. Voronja pulled what looked like a thumb drive from a leather band around his wrist. He inserted it in a hidden crevice, and the door slid aside.
In the small, dim room, I could just make out a metal chair against the far wall and a low table nearby. A slim figure slumped forward in the chair, bound by arms and ankles. The Kahlareans may have been pretending we were guests, but there were no illusions that this man was anything other than a prisoner.
“Is he also one of the banished?” I asked.
“Far more important,” the master said in his hoarse whisper. “Go ahead. Convince him to help us.”
We walked into the room. At the sound, the man lifted his head, the threads of phosphorescence in the walls painting his face with streaks of light. Strands of fair hair fell back and beautiful clear eyes met mine.
Every ounce of oxygen froze in my lungs.
Jake.
Chapter
18
Linette
Thorny underbrush reached out to snarl my ankles. Jagged rocks leered down from forbidding cliffs. In the distance, the strangled roar of a mountain cat issued a warning that I didn’t need.
I was already in the jaws of a monster that gnawed my bones and tore at my muscles. The fever was eating me alive. Had Bezreth told me the truth? Shrine girls who tried to leave, who tried to manage without their drug patches, always died. Didn’t they? I didn’t want to die out here among the dismal rocks with no companions but two strangers—and while a stranger even to myself.
“Just a little farther.” Nolan wrapped an arm around my waist so his shoulder could support some of my weight. “We’ll find a place to camp soon.”
Ahead of us, Kieran remained silent, as he had most of the day. He disappeared around a rocky outcropping, and Nolan urged me forward.
The fever burned up my spine, sending a dizzying pulse through my head. I focused on the effort of taking each step, and the struggle distracted me from the many blank places in my memories. Better to feel my body battling for life than dwell on the miserable emptiness of not knowing who I was.
“There. At the edge of that caradoc pasture.” Kieran drew his sword and pointed to a shed in the distance. Slate with tattered edges roofed the deserted lean-to, and weeds half-buried it, making it blend into the scrub and rocks. “Wait here.”
I sank to my knees, wondering if I’d find my feet again, but grateful for a chance to rest. The sky was deepening to dove grey, and the earth felt cool under my hands. Nolan passed a gourd to me, and I took a sip of tart juice and puckered my lips.
“Did I ever like this?” I handed the canteen back to him.
“No.” Nolan shot me a quick grin, then went back to watching his father. “It’s not popular in Braide Wood.”
Kieran ran lightly, using a patch of tall ferns for cover as he approached the shed. He disappeared inside, sword at the ready, and a moment later emerged and waved us forward.
Nolan helped me to my feet, and we stumbled to the shed. Kieran gave me a hard, assessing look. “We’ll camp here. Should be able to reach the Braide Wood border tomorrow.”
I peered into the dark doorway and shook my head. If I stopped now, the fever might finish me, and they’d have to leave my body in this lonely shed. “Let’s keep going. We need to reach help.”
Kieran’s eyebrows lifted, and he swiped a hand across his dirt-streaked forehead. “Are you remembering Braide Wood?”
A tight knot of discouragement twisted in my throat. “No. But staying here isn’t helping.”
“We can’t travel at night.”
“I can keep up.” I stiffened my spine and glared at him. “Let’s keep going.”
His mouth pulled sideways and he looked at Nolan. “Let’s make camp before we lose all the light.”
Nolan propped me against the side of the shed and ducked inside. The last bit of strength dissolved from my legs, and I sank to the ground.
Kieran unearthed a drug patch from his pack. Before I could form words to continue my argument, he took my arm and smoothed the new patch onto my skin. “It’s the last one. Maybe it’ll take the edge off the pain and you can rest tonight. Tomorrow will be a rough one, but after that we’ll have help.” His eyes wore troubled shadows, made deeper by the worry that creased his brow.
I looked at the drug patch. “Once this starts to work, I want to keep moving.”
His crooked smile held a mix of fondness and exasperation. “Maybe you could do it, but Nolan and I need a break. So will you try to rest—for our sakes?”
I ma
naged a half-smile. “If you put it that way.” His unexpected kindness confused me, but my head throbbed too much to sort out my questions.
Kieran helped me to my feet and into the hut. A small heat trivet on the floor formed a bubble of light. Nolan was tying a cloak over a window. “I think I’ve got it sealed up so no light will show from outside.”
“Good work. But we shouldn’t chance it for long. Let’s get some food into her and then keep the trivet off.”
I sat down, leaning against the musty wall of the shed. With my eyes closed, the low murmur of Kieran and Nolan’s voices became a jumbled sound like water tumbling over rocks. I heard distant lehkan hooves pounding turf, and imagined someone riding across a wide plateau, but his face was blurry. Was my memory returning? More hooves beat in a harder rhythm, and I realized the sound was my own pulse beating against my skull.
Someone pressed a gourd to my lips. “Drink this.”
No. It hurt too much. My throat felt as tired as the rest of me, and I couldn’t endure the effort to swallow. I tried to push the drink away, but couldn’t make my arms lift. Instead I just turned my head.
Arms supported me and tilted me toward the ground. Someone slid a pack under my head. The hooves returned . . . whole herds of lehkan galloping. They swirled around me, and I curled into a ball and faded into darkness as they ran.
I woke later, thinking I’d rolled onto a heat trivet. My skin burned, and I moaned and stirred but couldn’t seem to move away from the heat.
“Shh.” Something cool touched my face. A hand? A wet cloth coaxed a few drops of water into my mouth.
I managed to lick the moisture from my lips. I rubbed my eyes, straining to see anything in the blackness.