Jerish nodded miserably.
“What exactly do you intend to do?”
“Just make certain you are not in the city when I do it.”
Tink! Tink! Tink!
Arista woke up cold and confused. The sense of urgency, the fear and concern, lingered. Her back hurt. The hard, damp stone tortured her strained muscles, leaving her feeling crippled. She rolled to her side with a miserable groan.
Tink! Tink! Tink! The sound of stone striking stone echoed.
She looked up but saw nothing. It was all black now. The worms were gone or no longer giving off light.
Tink!
There was a spark of white light and in that brief flash she spotted Magnus, hunched over a pile of rocks, only a few feet from her.
Tink!
“ Ba, durim hiben! ” he growled. She heard him shift position.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.
“Six hours,” the dwarf replied.
Tink! Another flash, another incomprehensible grumble.
“What is it you are doing?”
“Frustrating and embarrassing myself.”
“What?”
“It’s just been so long, although that’s really no excuse. I can hardly call myself a Brundenlin if-”
Tink! Another flash-this time it did not go out. The spark appeared to linger, amazingly bright. Instantly Magnus bent down and she could hear him blowing. The spark grew brighter with each puff. Soon she could clearly see the face of the dwarf-the ridges of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the beard trimmed short, all highlighted by the flickering glow. His dark eyes glistened, eagerly watching the flame he breathed life into.
“We have no wood,” she said, puzzled, as she sat up.
“Don’t need wood.”
She watched him pile fist-sized stones on top of the little flame. He blew again and the fire grew. The stone was burning.
“Magic?”
“Skill,” he replied. “Do you think they only have fire on the outside? Drome taught the dwarves first. In the deep, the blood of Elan bubbles up. There are rivers of burning stone, red and yellow, flowing thick and hot. We taught the secret of fire to the elves, much to our regret.”
“How old are you?” she asked. It was common knowledge that elves lived longer-much longer-than humans, but she had no idea about dwarves.
Magnus looked at her through squinting eyes and pursed his lips as if he had tasted something bitter. “That’s not a polite question, so I will be just as rude and ignore it. Since you feel you still need me, I trust you won’t burn me to a cinder for it.”
Arista rocked back. “I would never do such a thing. Perhaps you’ve forgotten I am not the one who randomly commits murder.”
“No? My mistake. Apparently you’re only content with enslavement.” He tugged at his cropped beard.
“Would you have come if the empress had merely asked?”
“No. What care is it of mine if the elves erase you? It would restore the world. Humans have always been a blight, like the Ba Ran Ghazel, only with the Ghazel you know where you stand. They don’t pretend to accept you when they want something, then shove you out in the cold when they’re done with you. No, the Ghazels’ hatred is up front and honest, not like the lies of the humans.”
“I’d listen to him, Princess. He is an expert on betrayals.”
The voice, low and threatening, came out of the darkness and Magnus jumped up, scrambling toward her, as if for protection. A moment later Royce appeared at the edge of the fire’s light.
“I just wanted the dagger,” Magnus replied, a hint of desperation in his voice, which rose an octave higher than normal.
“I understand, and I promise that the moment this business is done, I will make a present of it to you,” Royce told him with a hungry look in his eyes that gave even Arista’s heart pause. “Be sure to keep me informed of his usefulness, won’t you, Your Highness?”
“He’s actually being very helpful-so far,” she replied.
“Too bad,” Royce said. “Still, I have every confidence that will change. Won’t it, Magnus?” He glared at the dwarf for several minutes as if expecting an answer; then the thief looked at her. “Better get everyone up. It’s time we got moving.”
Royce turned and disappeared silently into the cave’s gloom. When she looked back at the dwarf, Magnus was staring at her with a surprised, almost shocked, expression, as if something about her suddenly mystified him. He turned away and grumbled something she did not catch before returning to his pile of burning rocks.
Magnus’s campfire made the process of getting up and having breakfast almost cheerful and lent a sense of normality to their queer surroundings. The bright yellow flicker reminded Arista of her days traveling with Royce and Hadrian, and of her trip to Aquesta. It was shocking to think of those days as better times. Her life since the death of her father had been one long cascading fall that had left her tripping over ever greater troubles.
She could hardly imagine a more desperate state than the one she faced now. There wasn’t much that could top the extinction of mankind. She was certain, however, that it would never come to that. Even should the elves prevail, even if they sought to eradicate humans, she suspected there would be pockets that survived. It would be like trying to kill all the mice in the world. A few would always survive. She looked around the cave as she sat tying up her hair for the day’s journey. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, could live down there alone. Like her father, she was not an overly religious person, and yet she could not believe that Maribor would let his people vanish from the face of Elan. He had saved them before. He had sent Novron to snatch them from the brink, and she suspected he would do so again.
Myron ate breakfast with Elden much as he had dinner. The two communicated in silence while Wyatt rolled up blankets. She had no idea what to make of Wyatt. He and Elden kept mostly to themselves, rarely speaking, and usually only to each other. They did not seem a bad sort, not like Gaunt. Degan bothered her like a splinter in her skin. How he could be the descendant of Novron was bewildering, and not for the first time she wondered if perhaps Esrahaddon had gotten it wrong.
They lit lanterns from the dying flames of the campfire, and after packing up, Royce roamed about the cavern, disappearing from view occasionally. Only the glow of his lantern showed his position.
“Wrong way,” she heard Magnus mutter, his arms folded, his foot tapping the stone. “Better… better… now up… up-yes!”
From across the cavern they could see Royce swinging his light and they marched forward. They climbed a sheer cliff to a crack in the rock and sliced through to another chamber. Then they climbed down into another long passage into yet another cavity. Each looked the same as the ones before, smooth walls and wet, pool-scattered floors.
“I thought caverns were supposed to have long cone-shaped stones hanging down from the ceiling,” Alric mentioned as they entered yet another chamber.
“Not old enough,” Magnus said.
“What’s that?” the king asked.
“These caves, they’re not old enough for dripstones to form. It takes tens of thousands of years. These…” He looked around, pursing his pudgy lips. “These tunnels are young. I doubt they have existed for more than a few thousand years and most of that time this was underwater from a powerful river. That’s what carved the walls and rounded the rocks. You also need limestone and this isn’t that kind of cave. Actually…” He paused, then stopped to pick up a rock. As he weighed it in his hand, a puzzled look came over his face.
“What is it?” Mauvin asked.
“The rocks here are from the surface.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the river carried them.” He continued to stare, licking his teeth, for several seconds before dropping it and moving on.
They entered another narrow space but not nearly so tight as before. This was an irregular passage about the size of a typical second-story castle corridor. Low ceilings caused them to duck and rough ridges made them step around, but the way was considerably easier and more comfortable than those previously encountered. The passage was in a constant descent, growing more pronounced with each step. They followed the glow of Royce’s lantern and kept track of the back of their procession by the bob of Hadrian’s. As on the previous day, Arista walked in the middle, her robe glowing softly.