A soft scrape sounded, and a match flared to life. Basilard, his pack open at his feet, lit a lantern.
Brass and steel glinted in the shadows. Basilard moved in that direction, lifting the lantern. The small flame revealed a row of sturdy tunnel boring machines. Eight steam lorries with open cargo beds occupied a second row.
“The carriage house?” Amaranthe mused.
Books gazed toward the rocky ceiling. “It was reckless of them to hollow out these big tunnels with the lake right above. A single hole, or any seismic activity in the area, and water would flood the entire complex. It’s hard to believe they’d do all this just to create a secret meeting place.”
“We can ask them what they were thinking if they capture us,” Amaranthe said.
“If that’s the only way to find out, I can live with not knowing,” Yara said.
“Yes.” Maldynado gave Amaranthe a pat on the back. “It doesn’t look like they treat their prisoners well.”
Everyone turned sympathetic eyes toward Amaranthe. She couldn’t fault her team for their sympathy, but she’d rather forget the entire experience, or at least push it to the back of her thoughts and move on.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Maldynado added, “If that hat you were wearing earlier is an example of the type of clothing they force their prisoners to wear, I truly couldn’t withstand such exquisite torture.”
Amaranthe decided not to mention that she’d been nude. She didn’t need anyone speculating about that.
A tunnel left the vehicle chamber on the far side, and Amaranthe was of a mind to keep exploring-and put this conversation out of its misery-but Sicarius hadn’t rejoined them yet. She walked around the area, searching for more clues as to what Forge had been doing down there. The “carriage house” lacked any sort of symmetry; it didn’t seem to have been excavated with any design or purpose in mind. It was more like people had simply been digging, looking for something, and had stopped when they’d found it.
“Oh,” Amaranthe said.
Once again, all eyes swiveled in her direction, this time with curiosity.
“Sire,” Amaranthe asked, “do you still have that black whatchamacallit? The thing for tracking?”
“Yes.” Sespian removed a knapsack and poked through a tangle of socks and shirts.
Amaranthe thought of the meticulous way Sicarius packed his clothing and gear. Fastidiousness must not be hereditary.
“Nobody here knows how to use it, though.” Sespian finally found the egg-shaped device and handed it to her.
Amaranthe held it and rotated it, pointing it in different directions. “No noticeable change. Too bad. I thought it might glow or get warm or something. Unless they’ve removed everything and there’s nothing left around.”
“Uh, boss,” Maldynado said, “did you forget something? Like to explain that yarn ball of musings rolling around in your mind?”
“Sicarius said he first encountered this technology at an archaeological dig site. Maybe someone in Forge found this, figured out how to use it, and-”
“Employed it as a tuning fork that led them here?” Books nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“We had better press on,” Sespian said. “Time isn’t on our side.”
Yes, he’d given up much to come down here, so he’d be even more aware of the need to hurry. Sicarius hadn’t rejoined them yet, but Amaranthe headed for the tunnel on the far side anyway. She trusted him to find them again.
They’d only gone a few meters when a small alcove opened to one side. An ordinary wooden table sat in it, providing a resting place for five extraordinary black cubes.
“I guess there are artifacts left around, after all,” Amaranthe said.
Akstyr stuck a finger out toward one of the cubes.
“Don’t touch them!” Sicarius barked, jogging out of the tunnel behind them.
Everyone jumped, both at his abrupt appearance and at the shout. Amaranthe couldn’t remember ever hearing him shout, and he’d certainly never let that much urgency seep into his voice, not that she’d heard.
“Back away,” Sicarius said, his tone calmer, though it left no doubt that he was giving an order.
Akstyr, who had frozen at his initial shout, lowered his arm and took an exaggerated step in reverse.
“We should go back,” Sicarius told Amaranthe.
“Because these are… ” She waved toward the table.
“Deadly. And indestructible with the gear we have.” His gaze flicked toward the cubes. “They fly. And incinerate you.”
“Really?” Akstyr sounded more intrigued than alarmed.
“If they’re here to guard the tunnel,” Sespian said, “perhaps that’s a sign that we’re going in the right direction.”
“How’re they activated?” Amaranthe asked.
“I don’t know,” Sicarius said, “but if we’re standing here when they are, we’ll all be dead.”
Amaranthe pushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ears. The intensity in Sicarius’s eyes made her believe that obeying him would be a good idea, but Sespian stepped past her.
“We’ll keep going,” he said. “If they’re that deadly, it won’t matter if we’re behind them or in front of them, right? We’ll have to hope they don’t get activated.”
Sicarius’s eyes grew grim. Amaranthe supposed it wasn’t the time to point out that, if he’d had a certain discussion with Sespian by now, he could legitimately threaten to turn the young man over his knee for a spanking instead of having to succumb to orders he found distasteful.
Despite the emperor’s announcement that they’d keep going, Yara and the men looked to Amaranthe before moving. Sespian’s lips flattened. Amaranthe didn’t want him to feel slighted, so was quick to say, “As you wish, Sire.”
Sespian took Basilard’s lantern and looked like he meant to lead the way, but Sicarius slipped into the tunnel ahead of him. As they traveled deeper, the passage continued to slope downward. Soft hisses grew audible, and heated currents stirred the air. In spots, cracks emitted tendrils of steam. Openings appeared in the walls, ceiling, and occasionally the floor. Vents? Most of them were fist-sized, but they passed a few holes large enough that one might crawl inside.
“Are we under the lake?” Amaranthe whispered. Thanks to the bends and turns, she’d lost her sense of direction.
“Yes.” Sicarius stopped beside one of the largest vents they’d seen and peered inside.
“Does it go anywhere?” If the team crawled into a maze of vents, Amaranthe would lose not only her sense of direction but herself as well. Still, if there was a chance one led to the meeting room…
Without responding, Sicarius shimmied into the vent, his boots soon disappearing from sight.
“We’re not supposed to follow him, are we?” Maldynado asked. “I don’t think I’d fit. I’m a bigger man than him.” He propped a hand on his waist, fingers pointed downward, and added, “In all senses of the word.”
Yara snorted.
Basilard signed, Should you say things like that when he might still be in earshot?
“Er.” Maldynado dropped his hand. “Perhaps not.”
Sicarius’s head popped out of the vent, cobwebs cloaking his short hair. “This way. Do not bring the light.” He slithered into the main tunnel long enough to turn around. Before heading back in, he paused to add, “Someone should stand watch, but there’s room for everyone,” with a dismissive glance toward Maldynado.
After he disappeared again, Maldynado muttered, “I may be in trouble when our training exercises start up again.”
Basilard signed, My grandfather used to say bees are worth braving for their honey, but only fools delve into a hornets’ nest.
Amaranthe, not certain Sicarius would stop to ensure everyone had followed him, didn’t wait to see where the conversation would go. “Who wants to stay and stand-”
“Me,” Books said.
Amaranthe had figured he wouldn’t be enthused about crawling into that tight vent, but she couldn’t agree with the choice. “If we do find a way to spy on the Forge people, we may need you to help us figure out what they’re talking about.”