Chapter 6 The Vizeking
The Vizeking
For the second time in two days I felt like a rabbit being watched by a hawk. I curled into the Prince’s chest again, hating myself for it.
We humans knew almost nothing about the King of the Underworld, even in Limer.
I had not even read about him, except in fairy tales.
All of the godlings, it was said, were descended from the god Chaos himself, but the King was the closest descendant of all.
That made him capricious. Volatile. Dangerous.
The figure in front of the throne was human-shaped like the Prince, not spider-shaped like Elke, although he was strangely round and squat, like a beetle.
But his black hair and beard were a spiky tangle of what looked like spiders’ legs.
He wore a floor-length robe bedecked with red tourmalines.
His two eyes were as red and solid as rubies — impenetrable, without pupil or sclera.
I couldn’t be certain because of the robe, but I thought he had extra arms.
I recoiled tighter.
The beetle-godling asked, in a thin high-pitched voice, his tone one of open disgust: “What is that?”
I didn’t even dare to look around to see what he was talking about. I couldn’t handle any more horrors. Then I realized he was talking about me.
The Prince shouted back, his voice booming and authoritative: “I demand to see the King!”
Wait.
This wasn’t the King?
The beetle-godling ignored his request entirely. “Is that a human being? Where in the Monarch’s name did you get that?”
“I took her from the surface-world.” The Prince’s voice dropped a scale. “I have selected her as tribute.”
Tribute to what? Oh, no, no, no.
The beetle-godling’s eyes went wide. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“We discussed this. It is not for you to decide such things. Your illustrious father —”
“Let me see my father and I’ll explain it to the both of you.”
“No,” said the beetle-godling. His voice was higher-pitched than ever and full of fury.
I had no idea what was going on. Was he advocating to save my life?
Somehow I did not think so. The Prince was the one who’d kidnapped me, the one who was calling me tribute, but somehow I instinctively felt safer with him cradling me than I did with this strange beetle-godling’s unblinking ruby eyes on my face.
The beetle-godling went on, “If you wish to see the King, you may file a request according to the appropriate protocol.”
The Prince set me down, as delicately as he could considering that I’d tied myself into a knot in order to be able to hit him while he was carrying me. Even I had to admit that his self-control was superb, because he was absolutely seething.
Not at me. At the beetle-godling.
The instant my feet touched the ground, the Prince turned on his heel and strode over to the throne. I could practically see the anger coming off him in waves. “File a request? So it can get dumped in the sea like everyone else’s?”
The beetle-godling was unfazed. “The requests follow proper procedure.”
“LET ME SEE MY FATHER!”
“I shall repeat myself only once more…”
Neither of them was looking at me.
I began to inch, carefully, toward the side chamber with the white light. Surely… surely… light that white had to mean access to the outside?
The part of my brain that understood engineering said no way. We were too far underground. But another part of me — a deeper, more subconscious part — felt drawn to that ghostly light.
But when I snuck into the chamber, I found only an enormous, glassy underground lake.
Thirst spiked my mouth. Only the fact that I was in the underworld, and I might be trapped here if I drank the water, prevented me from plunging my whole face into the lake and drinking my fill.
But I found myself drawn to the lake anyway.
At the water’s edge, I craned my neck to see all the way up.
There was an opening to the outside world.
A small hole in the earth all the way above my head, what seemed like a mile up.
A single shaft of light shot through it like a rope, along with a thin, pounding waterfall.
It was strange how the waterfall did not disturb the surface of the lake.
Then I realized the waterfall did not move down. It moved up. It fell upwards, against gravity, into the shaft of light.
Could that light really be moonlight? It was so… blue.
As my eyes adjusted, I realized that there was another light source, too. White wax candles stood on pillars in the center of the lake. Their flame flickered with that strange blue color.
Hanging from the walls and the impossibly high ceiling were a vast number of glittering silk cocoons.
The cocoons rotated gently.
The lake was mirror-still.
Fascinated, I bent forward to touch the water’s surface. Surely I could just touch it. I didn’t have to drink from it.
Somebody behind me roared.
I startled, tripped, whipped around — and fell backward into the lake.