Page 120 of Fortune's Blade

“Blocked but not closed,” the Cassie added. “I can pull some power through it, but I wouldn’t be able to with the other, assuming it still works. It doesn’t go to Earth.”

“Yes, of course,” Mircea said, joining her.

He didn’t look embarrassed for what appeared to have been a mistake, because Mircea never looked embarrassed about anything. But I didn’t think he would have in this case anyway, as his whole attention was focused on the void ahead. To the point that his body had stiffened like a dog on a scent.

Or maybe a wolf would be more accurate, as his eyes were gleaming golden bright in the darkness, and there was something distinctly feral about his expression suddenly. I felt the same, as if I could sense danger, although I could not have said why. The troll shifted under me, his muscles flexing and his hand adjusting his grip on the spear.

Only to get knocked out of the way by Marlowe, coming out of nowhere and leaping down the too-high steps behind us. Several trolls growled, although nobody attacked him, probably because he was known to be the queen’s guest. The chief spy ignored them with the insouciance that kept getting him into trouble, and in a moment, we were all at the bottom of the stairs, clustered in a group.

It looked like an expeditionary force, and felt like one, too.

“All right.” The queen said. “Listen up. This area is known to be safe as there’s nothing here worth stealing. But that can change in a moment as we’re all aware. So, we don’t clump up like this and give anyone a target. We fan out, keep our wits about us, and make this a quick, silent trip. All right?”

She looked around sternly.

“And if we do run into an ambush?” Marlowe demanded, which appeared to annoy her.

“Who invited you?” she asked pointedly, her eyes going to the Pythia.

“Don’t look at me,” Cassie said. “I thought he was asleep.”

“So did I,” Mircea shot his fellow senator a look.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Marlowe said. He did not look sorry. “Where are we going again? And what happens if an ambush finds us?”

“We throw you to them first,” the queen said dryly, and my troll grunted in agreement. “Protect the Pythia if she needs it,” she added to her troops. “She is fey friend. The others,” she shrugged. “Good luck.”

Then we were off.

The hike was long and difficult, for the only semi-level part of the cave was near the entrance. And since most of the rocks surrounding us were black, it was increasingly hard to see anything the further we went in. The lights of the city gave out quickly, lost in the murky air behind us and blocked by rockfalls of shattered stalactites everywhere.

I eyed them unhappily; this cave system did not appear to be entirely stable. And the darkness felt oppressive after a while, despite the ceiling soaring high overhead. It didn’t feel lofty, however, and the usual cool air I would have expected to be circulating had a weight to it that I’d only ever encountered in close, tight-fitting tunnels.

I was not claustrophobic, but this place made sure that everyone was, including my troll, who was of a species known to like being underground. But he didn’t like this, and his poor eyesight made it worse. I was soon missing my own body and envying the vampires’ easy strides.

The hybrids seemed to feel the same, most of whom had not gotten improved eyesight in the genetic lottery and were floundering about much as I was. Instead of quick and quiet, therefore, our hike was slow, stumbling and full of muffled curses. And the pixies didn’t help, waiting with barely concealed impatience for us ground-based types to catch up.

I wanted to point out that the tiny lights they’d brought were making things worse, as every time they shone in my eyes, I went completely blind. But of course, I said nothing. I was not going to be discovered and ordered back.

Not this time.

But Marlowe had no such reservations, and talked constantly. Unlike with Ray, I did not find his conversation to be soothing. It was enlightening, however.

“Alright,” he said, as soon as we got underway. “As I understand it—”

“You do not need to understand anything,” Mircea informed him. “You do not need to be here.”

“Then send me back.”

“If I thought it would do any good, I would.”

Marlowe smiled slightly, probably because, as a first level master, Mircea’s mental tricks did not work on him. Or at least, not well enough. “Then we understand each other,” the spy said. “And what I want to know is—”

“Oh, give it a rest, Kit!” Cassie said. “We’ve told you what we’re comfortable with.”

“Yes, but not what I am comfortable with—”

“And your comfort is of paramount importance,” she muttered, scrambling over some rocks and snagging the hem of her lovely silver gown in the process. “I should have changed after dinner,” she grumbled, as Mircea helped her to free it. “But I didn’t expect it to be this dark, and I thought I could shift—”