Chapter 21
I BARELY WAKE from my nap in time to get ready for the labyrinth. Warm clothes. Food. A waterskin. Then poof I’m back in a familiar glassy corridor.
Onwards, I trudge.
I haven’t slept enough, and I find myself yawning at every corner. My feet drag, and I stumble, even though the floor is smooth.
Please, gods, don’t make me run today. I know how to deal with the Collector now and that they aren’t a monster, but I’m sure there are dangerous beasts in here that can’t be soothed by good manners.
No sooner have I begged the gods for leniency, than I hear a sound. Something approaches.
I back off as quietly as I can, heart in my throat.
Before I can duck away, it comes around the corner. Broad, shaggy, lumbering.
The Collector.
“Thank the moon we found you.” Their eyes brighten as they hurry over.
“I thought you were staying on the first tier, where you know.”
They duck their head. “We realized… we could stay and be safe and alone… or we could come and escape our longing, find something we’d learned to forget.
” Their dark eyes meet mine and I realize they’re not black like I thought, but a deep dark swirl of many colors.
They look hopeful. “Maybe for one more level. Maybe for more?”
Longing. I understand that. They’ve been alone in the labyrinth, with just themselves.
For all they might look monstrous, I see something of myself in them.
“You can come with me for as long as you want.” I pat their shoulder—or as high up their arm as I can reach when they’re standing at full height.
The way is easier with the Collector. They shoulder my bag and scent the path ahead whenever we reach a branch. Their warmth is also welcome, since clouds choke up the sky, making the day chilly and gray.
As we go, I observe a strange effect in the rocky walls.
A flicker that’s an absence of reflection.
Glossy, normal rock one moment—the next the sheen disappears, deepening the darkness.
The organic shape of the formation reminds me of an algae bloom, while the surface remains smooth.
It’s as though this strange phenomenon is within the glassy depths.
I’m eyeing it when the Collector shuffles from foot to foot and whispers, “We shouldn’t linger here.”
So I follow my guide deeper into the labyrinth, watching the blooms whenever they flicker into view. As we thread through a winding corridor, I note they aren’t everywhere, but—
A plinth stands in our path.
“Oh no,” the Collector murmurs, shrinking to one side.
“Don’t be a coward,” their hissing voice snaps.
No obvious danger. Cautiously, I approach, body tensed and ready to dart back. “There’s nothing here.”
Then, from the air, materializes a key. A sharp black thing made from the same obsidian as the walls.
“It’s a trick, isn’t it?” I raise my eyebrows at the Collector. “Or a trap.”
They rock back, arms wrapped around themselves. “No. And yes. Not a trap for you. A trial.”
“Then we’re close to the next tier.”
Their squat head bobs. “Someone you care for will be trapped in a cage, but you must choose between freeing them and taking a shortcut to the very end of the labyrinth.”
“The end?” So there’s a way to negate all these levels. All these challenges. Dread and excitement war in me, spiky and bright.
They peer ahead, scenting the air. “To the final gate—the final challenge. But you have to choose—the key can only be used once. Then it is destroyed.”
“We chose,” one of their voices whispers, just on the edge of hearing.
“Collector.” A voice like shards of glass cuts through the corridor.
We freeze.
A shadow creeps around the corner, tall, slender, impossibly long-limbed, surrounded by shuddering firelight. The creature itself stays out of view. “Stop lurking. Your stink taints everything. I can’t even smell my mealmeat over your foul stench. Tch. Abomination.”
I stare a question at the Collector. Who or what is this?
They back away and wring their hands. “We can’t. We can’t.” With a single shake of their head, they drop my bag, then turn and flee.
A broken-glass laugh chimes through the corridor, discordant and sharp. “Much better. My nose will clear now. Just in time to meet this new supplicant. Come out, child. Come and face the way forward.”
I glance back the way the Collector has gone. Mouth dry, I try to swallow and have to sip from my waterskin before I can.
I take the key. It’s cold and sharp—if I ran my fingers over its edges, they’d slice like a razor.
Bag over my shoulder, key in hand, I set forth to face the next trial.