Chapter 16 #2
But it isn’t the roar of a monster—it’s the roar of a crowd. Many voices, many people, all shouting at once.
If this thing has a voice, then it isn’t a monster, but a person of sorts.
The door crumbles, shards of stone as sharp as glass forcing me to my feet. The creature lunges, sharp teeth snapping inches from me. It’s breath fans my face as I press into the wall and will myself to melt into it.
If this is a person, then Drystan has already told me how I should behave…
Eyes screwed shut, I whisper, “Good afternoon.” My voice shakes, but I manage to get the words out.
The clacking rocks go quiet. The voices fall silent. There’s only the creature’s breath.
It isn’t eating me, so…
“I’m Annon.” I crack open one eye. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Quietly, its voices pick up again, like they’re conferring with each other.
“Yes, that’s better.”
“Such a polite girl.”
“At last, she acknowledges us,” the slithering voice adds, still with a biting edge.
It lowers its head, watching me. Its bulky mass seems calmer now the voices are in agreement.
My fear eases enough that I manage to swallow, and my voice comes out stronger, “I confess, I was afraid when I first saw you, and I quite forgot my manners.”
“Afraid, yes.”
“We don’t look like the others.”
“Not any more.”
“Not like we once were.”
It ducks its head lower, almost as if ashamed, and I catch a glimpse of another face among the fur, gray and slack.
I bet there are more hidden on its body—perhaps as many as one for every voice. And its hair isn’t streaked with dirt, but with several different colors. I piece together its words, and my chest grows sore.
“It sounds like you’ve suffered.” Gently, I place my hand on its shoulder. “I’m sorry that you have. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Its head snaps up, and breath lodges in my throat. But it doesn’t attack, only looks at me a long, silent while.
“A kind girl,” the dissenting voice says at last.
“She is. Very kind.”
“But kindness doesn’t last here.”
“This isn’t court,” a deep voice speaks over the slithering one.
“Here, he decides.”
As if reaching a verdict, the creature straightens and nods. “We are the Collector,” the voices say as one, “and we are pleased to find you, Annon. We thought we might collect you.”
I fight against a shudder. Collect me. Like I could become part of it.
“But it’s been a long while since anyone not of us has spoken to us, let alone honored us with an introduction. Longer still since anyone touched us without trying to hurt us.”
Wincing, I pull my hand back. “I didn’t ask. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. No.” They press into my touch. “It’s… nice.”
A little awkward, I stroke their shoulder, and the voices settle into a contented hubbub. “So I just needed to be polite.”
“Politeness is the way,” the deep voice says as the Collector shifts, offering a different part of their back to me.
I shudder as my palm connects with something that feels suspiciously like a nose, but I keep stroking and smiling. “You are… unseelie, then?”
“We are—were. So much of this land is unsafe, we must live in close proximity,” the dissenting voice goes on. “Trapped in this black glass, we became too close. But we remember how it was outside the glass walls. If we don’t maintain the veneer of politeness…”
“We’ll kill each other,” the slithering voice finishes.
A clipped, feminine voice that reminds me of Phaedra adds, “The king’s ability to keep his subjects in check is a marker of his power and strength—his suitability to rule.”
No wonder Drystan was so angry at me. The ripples of last night must’ve eroded his position. I glance up, but he’s gone.
“Is Annon ill?” They cock their head. “You lean heavily upon that wall.”
“Just tired.” No matter how alien their rules are to me, there is reasoning behind them, and the need to hide my illness has never felt so keen. “Do you know the way up to the next tier?” If they are the first challenge, it must be near by. “Can you take me?”
“You have walked far today,” the deep voice booms, echoed by a chorus of agreement.
The sun is sinking—I don’t have much left of the day before I’m taken back to the fortress. But now the terror is wearing off, my legs have grown shaky. I’m not sure I can take many more steps.
And yet… I turn to what I think is the north, where the final gate stands, six levels and countless steps away.
“We know the way,” the dissenting voice pipes up.
The creature bristles, danger a sharp presence in the air, like a scent upon the wind. “It’s dangerous,” a chorus of voices snaps.
“We won’t go there. But we can guard her while she sleeps, then show her to the foot of the stairs.”
Sleep. My gods, sleep sounds good right about now. I steady myself against the wall.
After the rumble of dozens of thoughtful sounds, the creature turns to me and the deep voice speaks.
“Very well. We make you this offer. Sleep and we will watch over you. Then we will show you the staircase to the next tier.” They straighten, broaden, filling the corridor. “But we will not go with you.”
An offer from a fae. I accepted Drystan’s when I shouldn’t have. And look where it’s got me.
After all, wasn’t this creature threatening to eat me mere minutes ago?
As if sensing my unease, they add, “By ash and blood, we promise not to collect you.”
My knees tremble and my whole body is leaden, reminding me of my profound lack of options.
So, trusting that fae rules about lying still apply to the Collector, I let them take me to a hollow that’s been scraped out of the stone walls, with a floor lined in many tiny scraps of fur. And, despite the musty smell, I sleep as they stand watch.