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ROHREE

F or what seemed like an hour, Rohree crawled through the claustrophobic, cobweb-swagged shaft, until her knees were scuffed and her wrists ached. At last, the tunnel opened up into a wider space and she was able to get to her feet.

The things I do for Essa, she thought as she stretched the kink out of her aching back. But in the next instant, her regrets only grew. In the glowstone’s pale light, she saw she was in an arched passageway. Stone shelves lining the walls bore haphazard stacks of bones. The black, empty eye sockets of skulls stared at her. Gray femurs and jumbles of ribs made her think of the bodies they had once supported, now broken and scrambled. The quiet was so deep it seemed to have dimension, like a well one could drop a stone into, and from in its depths tiny sounds came. Slithering. Scratching. And something else. Voices.

Drawing the short dagger at her waist, Rohree followed the sound. As she went, she made herself invisible. Activating that power always gave her a strange feeling, like the shiver just before a sneeze, but she was grateful to have the ability, especially in moments like these. The blood of the ancient fairies flowed in her people’s veins, so it was said, and allowed them to hide from mortal sight. It was a handy thing for times like these, although Rohree would have much preferred being in her cozy bedroom sitting in front of her little hearth and reading a book.

By the light of the glowstone, she made her way forward until the tunnel opened up to larger chamber. Wall-mounted torches cast a quavering orange light and she slipped the glowstone into her pocket and took in the sight before her. The chamber was round and large, perhaps two hundred spans across. And the whole space was filled with large, wooden crates of various sizes. Some were no longer than she was tall. Others were large enough to fit a team of horses. And there were thousands of them.

At the far end of the chamber, workers in dark cloaks were bringing in more of crates, grunting and grumbling as they did. She recognized their robes. They were Gray Brothers.

What are they up to? she wondered, knowing it could be nothing good.

Forward she went on stealthy feet, but before she reached the workers, another set of voices caught her attention to her left. One voice sounded familiar, though she couldn’t make out what it was saying. More torchlight glowed in that direction and she took off toward it, weaving her way through a labyrinth of wooden boxes as silently as possible.

At last she rounded a final corner and saw two men speaking. One wore the robes of the Brothers, but his was a midnight black. She immediately recognized his long hair and galling baritone voice. Prelate Kortoi. The other man wore a cloak with his hood up over his head.

“We’re sure the numbers are sufficient?” the cloaked man was asking. “Present overwhelming force and the royal knights will see the odds are insurmountable and lay down their arms. But if they think they have a chance, they will keep fighting. The losses could be immense.”

“Fear not. There are over two thousand here now,” the Prelate said. “And another five hundred in ships in the bay. When the blow comes, it will be like a sharp sword to the neck. Painless.”

The cloaked head nodded.

“But let me show you this one,” the Prelate said. “The workmanship of the sylphs and their goblin artisans is quite impressive.”

Using a crowbar, the Prelate pried open a large crate and pushed up the lid.

Both men looked down into the crate. The cloaked man shook his head in astonishment. “Incredible…”

Rohree knew she should stay back, but curiosity burned in her. What was in the crates? Whatever it was, it was clearly of utmost importance and pointed toward a conspiracy of the highest magnitude. She’d have to tell Essa right away, of course. But in order to give a full report, she had to know what was inside. Forward she crept until she was at side of the crate the two men were staring into. Then she grabbed the top of the crate’s wall, and, quiet as she could be, pulled herself up to peer into it.

Inside was a dragon—or something like a dragon. It was dragon shaped, but skeletal. And yet, it wasn’t just a skeleton. It looked as if someone had taken the bones of a dragon, rearranged them a bit, and covered them in clay.

“And you’re sure you and your priests can animate them?” the cloaked man asked.

“Believe me, the lords of the void have been waiting to manifest for thousands of years,” the Prelate said. “When we give them their chance, they will come.”

Rohree’s arms were beginning to tremble, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the thing in the crate.

“And afterward, you can banish them again?” the cloaked man asked.

The Prelate chuckled. “As easy as snapping my fingers.”

Without warning, he dropped the crate lid. It bashed down on Rohree’s fingers and she dropped off the crate with a cry of pain, cradling her throbbing hands against her chest.

She heard a sword ring free of its sheath.

“What was that?”

The cloaked man stepped around the side of the crate, pulling back his hood to listen—and Rohree saw his face.

Hoatan. The Queen’s Torouman!

Could he really be conspiring with the Prelate? Plotting to release a secret army?

I must get out of here. I must tell Essa.

A sprite’s invisibility was effective, but a person looking closely could spot a telltale shimmer. And these men were no fools. They were staring right at her. Heart thundering in her chest, she rolled to her feet and dashed off between two crates.

“A peri! After it!” the Prelate shouted behind her.

Between the crates she ran, darting left, now right, now sprinting straight, trying to make her way back the way she’d come. Her legs burned, her heart pounded. And still the boot falls of her pursers thudded behind her. Coming closer.

It was no use. She was a handmaid, not a Skrathan, and many moons had passed since the summers of her youth when she could run through the fields for hours. She felt she couldn’t go on a moment more or her heart would burst. And so, she turned aside, ducking into a gap between two containers, and threw herself down.

The footsteps of her pursuers passed her by, but after a moment she heard their voices.

“Wait. Stop. We’ve lost her.”

“I heard her a second ago. She must be close.”

She listened, straining to control her labored breathing, as their footsteps turned and went back they way they came. As soon as they were well past she was on her feet again, first creeping, then running. She burst free of the maze of crates, looking around. Where was the tunnel had she entered from? There were five tunnel entrances on this side, and they all looked the same. She’d been too taken with the sight of the crates and the Gray Brothers to note which tunnel she’d come out of.

Curse you, Essa, for sending a stupid handmaid to do the work of a scout, she thought bitterly. She looked at the tunnels again, from one to the next, but she truly had no idea which she’d merged from. Choose wrongly, and she might be wandering these catacombs forever.

Whispering a prayer to the Earth Mother, she shut her eyes, trying to feel which path to take. She’d heard tell of minor gods who held sway over luck, and she prayed to these, too.

But don’t take all day, she told herself. Those two will be back—and with their Gray Brothers.

And so, with a wary glance over her shoulder, she chose the nearest tunnel entrance and entered at a jog. The further she went, the better she felt. The tunnel did look familiar. Here were the shelves of bones. There was the dead rat she’d stepped over. Unless all the tunnels looked identical, she’d chosen the right one. Hope took wing inside her as she imagined herself telling the princess what she’d seen. Essa hadn’t been such a fool to send her after all. Maybe she’d even be brought in to report to the Queen!

There! On her right was the low tunnel she’d entered through. She raced for it, dropped to her knees to crawl through—and felt cold steel on her neck.

She turned her head slowly, and in the light of the glowstone she saw?—

“Ollie?”

It was him, his expression unreadable in the dimness. She dropped her invisibility with a sigh of relief and went to rise, but the dagger point pressed into her neck, bringing her up short.

“Sorry, Rohree. But I can’t let you go back,” he said. “Not after what you’ve seen.”

Surely he was joking… but no hint of humor showed on his face.

“Ollie… what are you?—?”

“Here!” he shouted.

Rohree turned to see torchlight bobbing toward them. Hoatan and Kortoi rounded a corner, with a half dozen Gray Brothers behind them, their curved daggers glinting in the torchlight.

“Good. You caught her,” Hoatan said when he was saw them.

Rohree turned to Ollie. “Traitor. You’ve betrayed Essa. Betrayed me…”

It was Hoatan who answered. “No, my sprite friend. A Torouman will never betray his charge.”

Kortoi’s smiling was unsetting. “But he will make sure she’s on the winning side.”

“Essa will be safe,” Ollie said coldly. “And so will you,” he added with a glance at Hoatan.

“Certainly,” Hoatan nodded.

“But we can’t have you blabbing what you’ve seen to the entire court, either,” Kortoi said, nodding to his Brothers.

Two of them grabbed Rohree’s arms and started dragging her down the passage.

“Ollie!” she shouted, giving him a pleading look—but he was already turning away.