Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
I n the coming days, Shava proved herself a prodigy with climbing. It would be easy to say it was because of her birth as a girl from the mud quarter, but I was half of a mud-quarter boy myself and couldn’t even climb a foot off the dusty ground.
Her bare toes and fingers could grip onto ledges that were more narrow than what should have been physically possible, and her eyes found tiny holds and cracks that mine didn’t.
Using this skill, she could get herself into a lot of cave openings without us having to rely on Zariah to cart us around everywhere.
Once there, we could throw her rope and I could join her, or Cerys could, or the boy.
At first, their presences annoyed me, but having others around made things easier.
One of them could stand guard at an entrance, flagging down Zariah if anything went wrong.
Or they could concentrate on menial tasks such as gathering firewood or preparing food, leaving Shava and I free to explore.
And explore we did. I needed to find a way back into the kingdom and fast. My next ritual would not plan itself, and the diagram wasn’t satisfactory. I needed my notes from my room.
“Zariah seems to think this cave is promising,” I commented to Shava.
Shava and I stood at the entrance of an old mine, quite a distance to the west from the kingdom. Zariah had noticed the odd configuration of rocks from overhead, and discovered the collapsed mine a few days before.
“Not exactly hidden, is it?” Shava asked.
The old mine shaft had caved in partially, but the wooden slats and rails still lead straight into the black abyss. An old, rusted cart sat right outside, tipped over next to the tracks.
“No one leaves the kingdom or goes in. It doesn’t need to be hidden,” I replied, frowning.
I knew from perusing records in the archives that we had once mined gemstones much more than we do now, but I never stopped to think where those mines had been.
Like everyone else, I supposed they were in the stone quarter.
“How old do you think it is?” Shava asked, crouching down by the old cart and running her hand over the rusty exterior.
Hmm. Great question. Decades, at least. Centuries, at most.
“One way to find out. Got the torch?” I asked her.
Shava fumbled clumsily for the little pouch tied at her waist. After we’d started our new hobby of cave exploration, I’d had Zariah bring a few materials needed to make torch kits for all of us.
“Do you remember how to do it?”
Shava rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, of course.”
I knew from my uneasy alliance with a few Fireguards that you needed flint and rock to strike a spark, and that was used to light a fire. I made all of us pouches of flint, rock, charcoal, and dry bits of hay. I’d walked everyone through how to do it, but I’d yet to see them try.
Shava picked up the flint and striker and tried striking them together, but immediately dropped it. Her eyes flicked to me nervously.
I pushed down the urge to snap at her.
“Try again,” I grit out, digging deep for any scrap of patience.
With a few attempts, she successfully caught a spark to the hay, which we transferred to my torch.
“All right, in we go.” Confidently I strode into the mine shaft, torch in my hand. And immediately stumbled as my foot sunk through a broken wooden slat, plunging me down to my calf.
“Zephyr!” Shava offered an arm, and I took it, and with a heave she pulled me out of the hole. Broken bits of wood and twisted shards of metal bit into my leg, leaving bloody streaks down my skin as I pulled it free of the hole.
“Shit.”
Going into a filthy cave with an open wound wasn’t smart. I glanced into the darkness, then back out towards the light.
Shava snapped her fingers. “I got it. Give me the torch.” She reached for it, hand outstretched.
I hesitated. Not because I didn’t think she couldn’t explore a tunnel on her own, but because I had a strong feeling that this would finally be the one that led us back to the kingdom. It was large and long, and clearly used to be a main artery of the kingdom’s mining system.
I didn’t want to miss anything.
“Zeph, for the sake of the gods, you’re bleeding out. Just wrap it up and come on. Haven’t you ever bandaged your own injury before?”
Blinking at her, I realized I hadn’t. My entire life had consisted of going to the infirmary and having a prima tend to me every time I’d needed something. Shava huffed, then bent down and ripped off a strip of fabric from the ragged ruins of her dress.
I made a mental note to snag some breeches for her once we snuck back into the castle. Dresses made no sense out here in the desert. Or anywhere else besides a ballroom, for that matter.
“You still have the waterskin?” she asked.
I held it up from its tie at my waist, and she swiped it, opening the cap and trickling down the wound on my leg. It was cold and felt good against the bite of the cut. She wiped the area clear of debris and mud, then flipped it over and tied it tightly in a knot with practiced hands.
“We get hurt all the time in the mud quarter; there are fights over everything.” She paused, tugging on the cloth. “There. It’ll last you until we can do something better.”
I turned my leg this way, and that, impressed.
“It’d be difficult to find something better,” I argued, having seen how the primas had bandaged wounds on the other boys. Nothing in the dormitory had the tightness or precision of Shava’s bindings. Was that because of a lack of skill by the primas or a lack of care?
A sudden cold breeze swept through the mineshaft, sending a shiver down my spine. Shava’s skin erupted in goosebumps and she took a step back.
I did the opposite, plunging into the darkness with my torch.
“This place gives me a bad feeling,” Shava whispered, but she kept pace behind me. I didn’t slow my steps. I had sensed it too, but unlike her, I recognized it. It sang in my blood, like calling to like.
Magick.
I was worried my brush with death last week would carry over as we explored new tunnels, but luckily, this wasn’t the case.
As we descended into the mine, the passageway opened until it was wide enough for four people to traverse together and twice our height, and sloped downward at a manageable angle.
Claustrophobia wouldn’t win today, but we had to pay attention, so we didn’t trip over the slats of the old cart tracks.
Eventually, the tunnel ended into a cavernous space that only gave away its vastness by the amount of cold air blowing towards us.
“This was definitely one of the main mines, if not the main mine,” I said, my voice echoing down the dark corridor.
My eyes slid to Shava, the firelight of my torch bathing half her face in a golden glow.
Her eyes strained to see anything in the pitch blackness, and I wondered if she realized the significance of her presence here.
Few people knew the true history of the mines, but I did—buried deep in the archives in disintegrating, discarded scrolls stuffed far back into deep recesses and cracks by scribes like me, trying to preserve what they could of history.
I’d found them. I’d taught myself the language. I understood.
The mud people were my people, and there was a reason they lived in squalor in our kingdom.
“Come, let’s explore where our ancestors once toiled.”
Shava rolled her eyes, but took my hand. “This better not be a better dead end.”
I grinned. I had a feeling this would finally be the main tunnel that took us out to the kingdom.
“Only one way to find out. ”
Shava sighed. “Can we at least wait until morning? I’m tired.”
Fine. We would wait until morning.
Morning came, and we strode off to investigate the main mine, only to get lost several times.
“I’m tired. Can we rest?” Shava asked, sitting down on the ground
I was a little sore, but feeling well enough. I didn’t know if I’d done enough rituals yet to be that much stronger, or if years of neglect and starvation made Shava weaker.
Either way, we had been exploring for a long time. Until we broke out of the tunnel, it would be impossible to know. It was always dark in here.
Logically, I knew the kingdom was a distance from our cave in the desert, but riding on the back of a dragon had spoiled me as to exactly how long.
Surely, we’d come up soon, right?
I studied the way ahead while Shava rested. A bright crack of white caught my attention, my adrenaline spiking and flipping my stomach with anticipation.
“Look Shava! There”
I took off, knowing she’d follow.
“Are you serious?” she called after me, her voice echoing off the rock walls.
I ignored her and strode forward, out into the sunlight.
My scribe robe was dirty and torn from my time in the desert, so I wasn’t worried about sticking out with my clothing.
A smile curled at the corner of my lips as I realized that today would be the first time that my hair color would help me and not hinder me.
Today I was another mud boy among the rest .
“You idiot.” Shava jogged to my side, catching up with me.
“Aren’t you happy to be home ?” I joked.
“Hardy har,” she quipped back, nostrils flared with irritation.
I wanted to argue I didn’t need her with me, but it would be foolish to deny help when freely given. The archives hadn’t been helpful in dispensing much knowledge of the people who lived in the mud quarter.
I needed Shava.
“Fine,” I conceded. “Just?—”
Shava strode past me, her back straight and chin held high. I stuffed down my irritation at her presumption, recognizing the necessity. She knew these streets, and I did not. She knew the people, and I did not.
In front of me, the Seat loomed a distance away, through the other quarters atop its high wall of stone. It looked far more intimidating from down here.
“Are you coming? There is a curfew, and the sun will set in a few hours.”
I shook my head and hurried alongside her. She frowned at my feet, still covered in my leather apprentice sandals.