Jessica stepped around the open trapdoor—she couldn’t believe that was actually part of this journey now—and lowered herself into the hole. Fortunately, a ladder had been provided, and she descended a few rungs before allowing herself the luxury of a summoned fireball in one hand to light the way.
Leandras followed, the trapdoor closed above them with a thud, then he looked down to growl, “Is that really necessary?”
“Hey, if you won’t turn on the lights, someone has to. I’m done falling into holes.”
He let out an aggravated hiss, and Jessica looked down to gauge her progress. Fortunately, the bottom of this hole was a lot closer than the others.
Six more feet, and her illusioned boots thumped onto solid ground again with a puff of dirt clouding up around her shins. She stepped away to give Leandras room, and he ignored the last three ladder rungs before leaping down to join her.
He wouldn’t look at her.
Yeah, scrambling to hide beneath a medieval city in the twenty-first century and using a trapdoor as the best escape would’ve embarrassed her too.
“Okay. It’s quiet, no one’s here, we’re alone. So now you can—”
“No.” He brushed past her, eyeing the branching tunnels with quick jerks of his head before pressing on down the center passage ahead of them.
Jessica clenched her fists at her sides and took off after him.
And he’d thought his patience was short in her bank.
He summoned another white orb of light to lead the way, and they moved quickly down more branching tunnels than she could count. Not like she actually tried to count, but she did notice the changes in the building design down here the farther they moved.
Dirt walls and ceilings of the first outer tunnels dangling with the occasional shriveled root gave way to stone, then to a smooth, hard-packed material that looked like concrete mixed with Red Dye 40. After that, the branching tunnels grew sparser, and the brown-red concrete was replaced by segmented metal sheets studded with huge bolts to keep them in place.
Maybe not so Renaissance-y after all.
Finally, they reached a dead end in the main tunnel. The door at the end took up the entire length and width of the tunnel itself, and Jessica sucked in a sharp breath when she realized that had to be the next door her infuriating fae guide planned to open for them.
It looked like an exact copy of the Gateway door.
Of course, there was no eerie green light escaping through the cracks, no mist, no rumbling growl of desire, no whispers in the otherwise complete darkness of the tunnel. But other than that, the doors were identical.
And there was no way in hell Jessica would let him drag her through another portal like the one they’d taken to get here.
Chapter 28
“I’m not going in there.” Jessica stepped back and shook her head. “Whatever you’re looking for, we’ll find it another way.”
Leandras looked over his shoulder at her with a frown. “There is no other way.”
“Tough shit. You told me the Gateway was the only portal left that still works.”
“Jessica, it’s not—”
“You’re right. It’s not happening.”
“It’s not a portal.” Grimacing, he turned away from the door and got all up in her face again. “I know what this looks like.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“And I’ll explain momentarily. We’re almost there.”
“You’ve been saying we’re so close for weeks. That doesn’t even mean anything anymore.”
“I need you to trust me. No portals. No other way to collect the Heart of Ithríl, because this is where I left it. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know once I’ve eliminated the possibility of that conversation being overheard. Please.”
Jessica glanced at the creepily identical Gateway door he wanted her to believe was nothing more than just another door and clenched her jaw.
Almost there. Right.
Coming from him, that could mean they had another half the world to cross before getting anywhere close to his destination.
“You better not be screwing with me.”
“Not at this moment, no.” His attempt to smile was weak and did absolutely nothing to reassure either of them.
He turned back toward the door and delivered four precise knocks on the iron in four different places. A rune of silver and blue light illuminated in the center of his placed knocks, and the door swung open on its own.
He stepped through without a single glance back or a word of warning. Jessica’s heart fluttered in her chest at the thought of walking through another dungeon door like the one she’d been avoiding in the hall outside her bedroom for over two months. But the only way forward was forward.
At least that much hadn’t changed.
Once she slipped through, the door shut by itself with a muted thud, and Jessica froze.
If the courtyard they’d entered aboveground was a Xaharí version of the 16th century, this place was every sci-fi book she’d read made real.
Bright white light glinted off metallic surfaces. Round silver spheres buzzed through the air, crossing paths with each other and flashing different colors. A staircase rippled out of the damn floor in front of them, glowing with white light as it unfolded like someone rolling out the red magical carpet.
“This is Ryngivát,” Leandras muttered, scowling at the curved doorways and rounded ceilings of yet another underground city stretching out around them in the massive cavern.
It could hardly even be called a cavern. More like an atmospheric dome underground and closed in on all sides by the same highly reflective metal material coating everything.
Jessica stepped forward to stand beside him and spared a quick glance at the drop over the edge of this platform that had to be hundreds of feet. Not as far as the massive pit they’d tried to scale, but almost. She cleared her throat and pointed weakly at the ceiling. “Then what the hell was all that up there?”
The fae man blinked, opened his mouth, and cocked his head. “I’m not entirely certain. Merely a ruse, perhaps.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Or the remnants of what’s left in this world.”
“What?”
“Let’s go.” He set a gentle hand on her back in what he probably thought was an encouraging nudge forward before he stepped onto the suspended staircase leading down into the heart of the city. “We’ll find a place to rest here.”
“And here I was thinking we’d have to set up a tent in the middle of nowhere.” Jessica snorted as she joined him on the stairs, then they walked down together.
Several other staircases unfolded from various platforms built into the walls around the dome, obviously enchanted to appear when magicals from who knew where else passed through those other doors.
Did every one of them look like the Gateway?
She couldn’t quite wrap her head around that idea. There were too many possibilities—that the Gateway was a copy; that all these doors down here leading to Ryngivát were copies; that they were all portals. And there was probably a whole slew of other connecting threads between all those doors, but Jessica would end up toppling over the side of this suspended staircase if she spent too much time thinking about it.
When they finally reached the central ground floor, the stairs rippled back upward through nothing but air behind them. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to let the strange sense of vertigo pass while taking in the surprisingly high levels of magical energy thrumming all around them.
“This way.” Leandras brushed a hand against her shoulder again. “I know it takes some getting used to.”
“Not any more or less than everything else...back home.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was either amused by her use of staggering vagueness or grateful for it. Probably both. “I can assure you we’ll be gone from this place as soon as possible.”
“But not before we sit down for another chat.”
&nbs
p; “No.” Frowning, he searched the busy alleyway of the glimmering underground city and sighed. “No, I’m not interested in dragging you through this any longer without the necessary information.”
“Oh, great. You’re finally starting to listen to me.”
Three silver orbs whizzed toward them, slowing as they approached. Each pulsed with a brief glow of pink light then darted back toward wherever they’d come from. Leandras searched the milling crowd—this one acting a lot more century-appropriate with a lot less yelling and more civilized conversation—and paused when a green-skinned changeling locked gazes with him.
The changeling man’s eyes widened a second before he gave Leandras a demure smile and dipped his head. Leandras returned the gesture tersely and grabbed Jessica’s hand. “I believe a little lubrication may be necessary first.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held on fast. “A little what?”
“A drink, Jessica.”
“No, I told you I don’t drink.”
“It’s nothing like liquor. But it will steady my nerves.”
Raising her eyebrows, she let him pull her toward another branching alley. Their morphed reflections rippled across the wall of the building on their left, and she looked over her shoulder to sneak another peek at the changeling man who now stood in a group of four magicals. All of them stared at Leandras and Jessica, each with a matching smirk of approval as they muttered to each other. At least, she thought it was approval. It could have been a subdued version of the sadistic glee they’d gotten from Ko’alyn and Ati’ol underground, but either way, it made her skin crawl.
Then she realized what it really was—the same look she’d received from dozens of strange magicals in downtown Denver on her unsuccessful little trip to the Denver Public Library. It was a look that said they knew exactly who she was, what her duties entailed, and that they were all insanely curious to know when she’d actually carry through with it. Opening the Gateway.
“I’m gonna take a wild guess, here,” she muttered, scanning the faces of other magicals passing them along the thoroughfare. Most of those who caught sight of Leandras gave him the same expression as the changeling man, but none of them said a word. “It’s all the staring putting you on edge.”
“I can admit it is a contributing factor, yes.” They turned another corner, then Leandras looked up at a line of symbols etched into the metal door of the next building and placed his palm flat on the door where a handle should have been.
The door swung open into a room of soft yellow light and an oddly metallic tune either played by some weird Xaharí instrument or coming through...
Did magical speaker systems even exist?
Jessica let him pull her into the establishment which did actually look like a bar only because of the circular counter in the back and the rows of booths and tables lining both walls, which were upholstered in what looked like black velvet. So were the booths. The tables were of the same glinting metal material as the walls and streets and domed ceiling of Ryngivát, so at least they couldn’t be confused for extra seating inside this place.
“Okay, time for another guess.”
“Jessica...”
“No, seriously. You talked a big game up there. Made me think you were terrified of someone seeing us. Honestly, I was starting to think maybe you had an outstanding warrant here or something.” She snorted. “Or a Wanted poster with a bad drawing of your face tacked to the stables or whatever.”
Leandras shot her an exasperated glance and released her hand before heading toward a booth at the far corner of this alleged Xaharí bar.
She took off after him. “But you’re not actually a wanted criminal here.”
“It’s a little more complicated than—”
“No, it’s actually pretty simple. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you because...what? You thought they’d make a scene? Throw some kind of party for the Laen’aroth?” Jessica’s smile widened when he paused beside the booth, glanced at the circular bar, and finally slid into his seat. “You’re just trying to avoid all the fanfare.”
“That’s quite enough.”
“I don’t think so.” She slid into the booth across from him and folded her hands on the shiny table, grinning. “I know those looks everyone was giving you outside. How well do they know you here?”
“Not...” The fae man blinked furiously at the tabletop. “Not well.”
“But they know what you’re here to do.”
“Jessica, the magicals here are—”
“Vrestí!” The excited shout boomed across the establishment, followed by a heavy smack of flesh on gonging metal. Then a long, endless string of Xaharí followed in a low male voice, and Leandras looked like he was about to be sick.
Jessica’s grin widened. “They do know you.”
She couldn’t see whoever was babbling at them from across the bar, but the view of Leandras darting quick glances in that direction was more than enough entertainment.
Here he was, caught between his own rock and a hard place—pretend to be someone else, which was impossible for a fae who looked and acted like Leandras Vilafor; cause a scene he’d been trying to avoid; or roll with it.
Nice to have their positions switched for once. And yeah, admittedly, it was fun to see the fae man squirm like that in his seat.
Finally, he looked up at the approaching magical and muttered something in Xaharí.
“That’s no way to treat an old friend, is it?” the same voice bellowed before a rumbling laugh all but drowned out the warbling metallic music. Then a massive orc with pockmark scars covering his bald head reached the side of their table and clapped a meaty hand down on Leandras’ back. “I wondered how long it would take you to return. Especially if you were dead! Ha!”
Leandras bucked beneath the weight of the orc’s heavy blow and shot Jessica a quick warning glance. It gave her the distinct impression they’d shared the same thought.
He had died. Which they were supposed to be discussing right now after this friendly interruption gave them the chance.
“Oh, and not alone.” The orc shifted toward Leandras’ side of the table to get a better look at Jessica. “Is this—”
“Yes.” Leandras swept a hand toward her. “Jessica. This hulk of insufferable meat is Brokar.”
“By the Hakali threads.” Brokar chuckled again and swiped his huge forearm under his bulbous nose with a loud sniffle. “What did he promise you, eh? This fae has a way of spewing words like no one I’ve known, but to get you here...”
“We have business to discuss,” Leandras said tersely. “It doesn’t include your questioning.”
The orc’s eyes widened, and a flicker of green light flashed across his pale yellow eyes. “Ah. No time for catching up. Hinwi, then?”
The fae man nodded, but his gaze was focused on something else across the room.
“The celebration happens after.” Brokar chuckled again, and this time, his smile aimed at Jessica looked like a snarl instead.
Then he spun around and headed back to the bar.
Jessica leaned forward to peer around the edge of the booth after him. “Old friend?”
“Not particularly.” He didn’t look any more comfortable now that they finally had a chance to sit down and not be chased by something.
“And there’s one more magical here who’s just guessing I’m the Guardian without actually hearing it from either of us.”
“Indeed.”
What was his deal?
“Hey, this was supposed to be a sit-down for answers—”
“A drink first, Jessica. Then we’ll talk.”
She drummed her fingers on the table, trying to figure out what was going on inside the fae man’s head. Most likely, it was the kind of mess that would make the bank run away screaming. Still, something didn’t feel right here.
Brokar returned shortly with two copper cups and set them firmly down on the table. Glowing blue liquid sloshed inside and let off a spra
y of glimmering blue fizz. “On the house, as always.”
Leandras nodded again but kept his lips firmly pressed together.
“Thanks,” Jessica said with a nod.
The orc wiped his hands on his already stained tunic—yes, he was still wearing a tunic even in this advanced magi-tech city—and chuckled. The sound made Jessica want to leap from her seat and summon a flare of warning magic just to keep him at bay. For once, she kept her cool.
“Yeah...” Brokar eyed her up and down, then looked at Leandras as he rapped his knuckles once on the tabletop. “You know who wants to see you before you disappear again. Don’t take as long as last time, eh?”
He didn’t wait for the fae to reply but stalked off again toward the bar, roaring with laughter when one of the few other patrons muttered something at their table.
“Last time?” Jessica asked.
Leandras snatched up the copper cup and took a long drink, the blue glow of whatever this hinwi stuff was illuminating his face. Once he’d set the cup down again, he snapped his fingers and pointed at the ceiling. A wall of shimmering silver light bloomed from his finger, stretching up to the ceiling and down to the floor to encapsulate their entire sitting area, then faded again.
“He’s referring to how long it took me to return.”
“And...” Jessica twirled her finger in the air, trying to play it all off as a casual conversation but getting really damn pissed by everything still being a convoluted mystery. “Is everyone else in this world as old as you?”
“Time works differently in this world, Jessica.” He nodded toward her cup. “I suggest you try the hinwi before we begin.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You’ll want to after you hear what I have to say.”
“Okay, well which one is it? First, we can’t talk until it’s safe. Then we can’t talk without you having a drink. And now you’re trying to force one on me. What’s next? You won’t be able to answer my questions until the creepy-orc bartender gets up on our table to dance the Macarena?”
The Poisoned Veil (Accessory to Magic Book 4) Page 27
