Page 39

The entrance to the cave is only about twenty feet across, and the only sign that anything could be in there is the grooves left in the dirt at the entrance from carts and footprints.

I walk in front of Andor and step inside, following the curve to the right.

The way is fairly level at first, going past various checkpoints that most people won’t even notice.

About twenty feet inside, just as the light from the outside starts to fade, the first torch appears.

These torches burn all hours of the day, lit by a crew within the city known as the City Watch.

They’re in charge of the lighting, as well as providing the safety within the walls.

In the dark shadows that occur between the torches, you can always be sure that someone is watching you even if you can’t see them. Many crevices in the lava rock run deep into the sides of the tunnels and men are often stationed in there, ready to rush you with their swords out if needed.

But they recognize me, and I assume that they aren’t too worried about Andor either since no one comes out to stop and question us.

“Watch your step,” Andor says. “I just stepped in something sticky.”

I glance at the ground to see faint streaks of something white that glistens in the torchlight, then reach up and grab Andor’s shoulder, pulling him down.

“I suggest ducking for the next few feet,” I say, going into a stooped walk beside him.

“Why?” he asks as he bends over, staying closer to me now.

“Remember I mentioned slug webs? I suggest you don’t look above you for the next bit.”

Naturally Andor does what I’ve told him not to do.

“What the fuck are those?” he says in disgust.

I don’t have to look up to know what’s above us. There are cave spiders and many other types of insects in the lava tubes, but it’s the slugs that are the worst. They build giant sticky webs across the tunnels, with some of the slugs growing up to several feet long.

“They aren’t dangerous but the webs can leave a nasty rash,” I tell him. “And I’m sure Feet would be delighted to know that the aphrodisiac tea he’s coveting is made from the webslime.”

Andor grimaces. “Thankfully I don’t need any of that.”

I can’t help but give him a wry smile. Based on his actions (or lack thereof) from last night I would have thought he could use a bucketful.

When I’m sure it’s safe, we straighten up again and keep walking down the torchlit tunnel.

We’ve been walking for at least twenty minutes and are about to head down the grand staircase to the first part of the city, when suddenly two figures step out in front of us, each coming from either side of the tunnel walls.

Andor instinctively goes to the short sword at his waist, but other than that he doesn’t seem all that surprised.

Knowing his heightened senses, he probably knew they were there.

“Halt,” one of the guards says in the Freelander accent, making it sound like another language from the Common Tongue of Dragemor. “Who goes there?”

“Brynla Aihr,” I tell him, doing the Freelanders sign across my forehead. “Niece of Ellestra Doon, fourth quarter, lower tenth.”

“Ah yes, the thief and her dog,” the guard says. He’s wearing a mask made of blackened bones, and though I’ve probably encountered him many times before, it’s hard to tell who he is. “And who is he?” He eyes Andor.

Andor opens his mouth, but I am quick to speak.

“This is my cousin, Lothare. I just got him out of Lerick.”

“Is that so?” the guard says, peering closely at Andor as the other guard starts circling us from behind, eyeing his clothes. Luckily Andor is dressed as most Eslanders might be, and there’s nothing marking him as a Norlander.

“Your name is Lothare?” the other guard asks, sidling up close. I wait with bated breath, expecting Andor to stiffen, to make a move for his sword, but to his credit he remains still.

“Lothare Doon,” Andor says, his Lerick accent flawless. Still, I won’t breathe a sigh of relief yet.

“And you’re willing to give up the good life and live one of darkness?” guard number one says, testing him, his face right up in Andor’s.

“I would rather live a life of darkness if it means my freedom,” Andor says, his voice like steel. “What good is light if your soul is in the dark?”

That answer seems to satisfy them because the guards nod in unison.

“All right,” the second says. “Welcome to the Dark City, the land of the free.”

They both move to the sides to let us pass and do the sign of the Freelander on their foreheads.

I don’t dare relax until we’re past them and are heading down the grand staircase.

If the guards had at all suspected that Andor was a spy from Esland, there would have been a grisly fight.

One that I’m sure both Andor and I could handle, but where there are two guards, there are always more hiding in the cracks.

“Having a backstory would have been helpful before we went into the lava tube,” Andor whispers in my ear as we walk side by side down the stairs, the darkness punctuated by the occasional torch.

I shrug. “Sometimes having something rehearsed can backfire. Improv often seems more realistic. You should know that.”

He gives me a wry look, the torch flames catching in his eyes as we head down.

“So where are we now?” he says in a low voice. “Any more guards that Lothare Doon should worry about?”

“We’ll see them here and there once we start the descent, but we’ve passed the official checkpoints.”

“We haven’t started the descent?” he asks.

I nod ahead at where dim light appears at the end of the blackened tunnel. “That’s the descent. It’s the official entrance into the city.”

I can tell he wants to ask me more questions, but he keeps his pretty mouth shut. It’s better he just sees it.

We continue down the steps until the white light gets closer and the tunnel roof appears to curve upward for a moment.

Then everything opens up below us, both of us wincing at the light and the sight below us.

The Dark City’s name comes from the fact that most of it, especially the lower quarters where my aunt and I live, is in pitch-blackness.

But sometimes there are tubes that go straight to the surface, and with the use of mirrors, the Freelanders have been able to project that light into the darkest reaches of the cave system.

And then there’s the descent, which is right below a hole in the surface, hundreds of feet high.

The hole is about two hundred feet across, letting the world below have light and access to the sun and sky.

The grand staircase cuts down the middle, leading to the greenhouses and farmed patches of the first quarter, where farmers take advantage of the natural sunlight.

On either side of the staircase, greenery spreads, and on the fringes, where the light continues thanks to cleverly placed mirrors, the real city starts and thrives with various shops, cafés, and business establishments.

“Bloody blazes,” Andor says under his breath as we pause on the staircase halfway down. I try to hide the prideful smile on my face, not wanting him to see how much I’m enjoying his appreciation of the place. I know he underestimated the Dark City—everyone always does.

“This is the cultural hub for the Freelanders,” I explain, letting him stand and take it all in.

“Using the natural light, we grow our fruits, vegetables, and plants that don’t require much water.

This is also where the Freelanders come to be social.

You don’t get to survive as a culture if you don’t have a place to meet and exchange thoughts and ideas.

Much like Menheimr, I suppose, except on a smaller scale. ”

By now a few people below are glancing up at us with interest, since it isn’t that often that someone comes in or goes out, and fishermen and raiders tend to take the loop way, which curves around the natural atrium on a flat path, making it easier for carts to get down to the city levels.

“Come on,” I tell him. “I don’t want people to have too long to notice you. Last thing we need is for someone to double-check with my aunt and have her tell them she doesn’t have a son.”

“So how dangerous is your aunt?” he asks as we continue our descent down the stairs.

“It’s not so much that she’s dangerous,” I tell him. “It’s more that she’s fearless. And has a short temper. Much like me. And you, I suppose. You’ll find you have more in common with her than you think.”

“She was the one who helped you escape from the Daughters of Silence,” he notes. “That couldn’t have been an easy feat.”

There’s a curious tone to his voice. I glance at him, his eyes glowing against the black smudges of his salve. “No. It wasn’t.”

“I should like to talk to her about how she did it,” he says as we continue walking down the staircase.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Perhaps there’s a lesson in it for me.”

“The lesson is lots of planning. It helps that Ellestra was in the convent herself when she was a child. She knows the ins and outs. But if you think she’s going to open herself up to a stranger, you’re wrong. She’s just as cagey as I am.”

He snorts at that. “I think I’m slowly winning you over.”

“Very slowly,” I tell him, but I’m smiling.

We finally step off onto the main level, Lemi ahead of us and sniffing each storefront that we pass.

I recognize almost everyone, even if I don’t know their names, and while they generally nod or regard me with mild interest, they all eye Andor with suspicion.

It’s estimated that there are several thousand people living in the Dark City, which is a lot of people, but because everything here is confined to a relatively small area, we get used to seeing each other. Anyone new stands out.

“This way,” I tell Andor, following Lemi down a tunnel that heads off to the right, passing through a candlemaker’s shop and a café that has tasty but expensive desserts crafted from cave bee honey.

“To get to my quarter we have to travel a ways down. You might find that the air pressure in your ears changes,” I say, rounding a bend until we’re faced with total darkness.

I come to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Andor asks.

Unease prickles my scalp. “It’s too dark. This passage is usually lit.”

“I can see well enough,” he says.

I shake my head. “I don’t like this. We should go back and try another route.”

But when I turn around to face him, he’s gone.