She passed it to the boy and he secured in place on his right hip. Like his father, Kran was left-handed. The thought made her want to pull him close to her again, as she had back in the Star Chapel. Her mother had died when she’d been only a girl, her father and sister taken from her just when she was old enough to strike out on her own. Ikran had been murdered by a rival when Kran was only a little one. She wasn’t going to lose any more of her loved ones: not here, not ever. A fire kindled in her chest.
She got to her feet. “Let’s go find Vorrin.”
* * *
The smell of scorched seaweed still clung to the damp walls of the hallway where Vorrin and Glayn had been lured away. The crew marched grimly past open doorways, no longer tempted by treasure or curiosity. With Sarni, Glayn, and Vorrin all missing, this island had proven itself filled with enemies. Every corner they turned could lead them into danger, whether from creatures or from rockfalls.
Jendara had made sure every member of the party was roped up to the others, and she’d had Tam check their lines before they set off. If they’d done that the last time they’d gone down to this level, Vorrin and Glayn would be safe right now. The rope got in the way sometimes, but it was worth the extra measure of safety.
“Just a little farther,” she reassured Kran, her voice pitched low.
She felt more than saw him nod. They were only using three lanterns, the minimum she thought they could use for safe travel. She’d noticed that the ulat-kini and the fish-folk hadn’t carried lanterns. Her crew needed light, but it made them a target for creatures with better dark vision.
“Here,” Tam whispered.
The group gathered beside the pit, untying each other so they could set to work. Tam had already prepared a harness under good lighting in the Milady’s galley, and now he brought it out.
Jendara knelt at the edge of the opening. It felt like balancing on the mouth of some huge creature that could swallow her at a moment’s notice. A cold waft of fish and seaweed came up from the pit, a fresher smell than the dead shellfish around them.
“Vorrin?” she called. She raised her voice a little. “Glayn?”
No one answered. Water droplets fell someplace, a lonely and plaintive sound.
She leaned over the edge, peering into the darkness below. Zuna’s makeshift torch had gone out. “Someone give me a lantern.”
She held it out, but its light failed to penetrate the depths of the space. On the water’s surface, the flickering dot of her flame seemed to mock her. “Glayn?”
Only silence replied.
Throwing off her pack, she reached for the nearest coil of rope. “You’ve got to lower me down.”
Zuna opened her mouth to speak, then paused. Finally, she nodded. “It’s not a bad idea. You can take the harness.”
Tam was already joining the coils of rope and tightening a loop around Jendara’s waist. Zuna pressed the harness into Jendara’s hand.
As they worked, Boruc lit another bundle of candles and began lowering it down. He passed the rope to Kran. “Hold it steady.”
Boruc took a stance beside Jendara. The rough fibers rasped against her hands as she tossed the rope to him, who ran it once around himself before tossing the rest to Tam. They were big men and Zuna was tough. They would make sure she didn’t fall.
Jendara hesitated on the edge of the open pit. The water looked very far below, the walls invisible in the darkness. There could be anything down there: rocks, beasts, more traps. Vorrin’s dead and broken body, floating outside the circle of lantern light. Her stomach roiled at the thought, and so she lowered herself over the edge, needing to see with her own eyes.
For a moment she swung helplessly, the rope slipping over the broken flooring before jerking tight, and then Boruc and Tam brought it under control. She began to move slowly toward the water. She still couldn’t make out the walls of the pit or get any sense of how large the space around her was, but at least she knew down from up.
Beside her, the bundle of candles and rags spun around slowly, its light playing off the dull surface of the nearest wall. Jendara nodded to herself—the wall that formed the boundary of the hallway apparently continued down as one continuous slab of rock. It made structural sense, at least. The wall descended without adornment, a smooth face of damp stone that met the water without offering up doors or ledges for a pair of men to creep onto. Nothing but a few crumbling stones protruding like islands from the pool’s surface.
“I don’t see anything,” she called up. “No Glayn, no Vorrin. No exits, no ledges.” She paused. There was something, right at the waterline. She squinted. “Hold up a sec.”
The makeshift torch flickered and then steadied, and Jendara saw the dark patch at the waterline again. This time, she noticed the ridge of neatly worked stone framing it off. If she hadn’t given the staircases in the other hallways such a careful looking over, she might have overlooked it, but she was starting to understand the construction methods of the ancient builders. “There is an exit,” she shouted. “A door, maybe even a staircase. I’m guessing Vorrin and Glayn swam for it. Bring me up!”
Slowly, she ascended. She scrabbled at the stone flooring a minute before she got her grip and pulled herself up. Tam and Boruc sat on the floor, looking tired. But Zuna was frowning.
“There’s another possibility,” she began. “We know someone made this pit trap. And what does a hunter do when she sets a trap?”
Jendara went still. “She brings home her prey.” A muscle twitched in her cheek. “Someone took Vorrin and Glayn.”
“Either the ulat-kini or those fish creatures,” Boruc said.
Tam stood up. “I think we should go talk to the ulat-kini. Even if they don’t have our folk, they might have more information about the fish-things. Being sea critters and all.”
“Well, we know where to find them,” Jendara said, voice grim.
* * *
The plan formed quickly while they re-roped themselves. Time was of the essence. Going back to interrogate their prisoner would add another hour to their search, and there was no guarantee the prisoner even spoke their language. He hadn’t said a word to Kran, and he’d been too groggy to talk while they were tying him up. Their best bet was to get into the ulat-kini camp and find one of their translators. The creatures were known more for theft than trade, but a group this size probably had at least one trader with a smattering of Taldane, the main human tongue in the region.
Jendara had argued for heading back to the grotto and getting the dinghies to approach the camp from the water. From the sea, she knew she could find the docks and ladders she’d seen under construction. She didn’t like the idea of wandering through the island’s labyrinthine tunnels. They’d made little headway exploring the subsurface so far, and Vorrin and Glayn were depending on them.
But Tam and Boruc were certain the sea approach was a bad one, and she had to agree with their logic. One ulat-kini could easily tip or sink a small dinghy: on the water, the creatures had every advantage. The ulat-kini wouldn’t expect a land approach, either.
“Besides,” Boruc said, “we won’t be exploring, opening doors, or digging around. We’re in a tunnel that goes north. I say we just stick with the tunnel and see where it goes. It’s not such a big island, really.”
It made a certain kind of sense. Jendara stroked the gray dot on her left hand and wished the ancestor spirits were the kind of spirits that gave signs or sent comforting portents. She could only trust her gut to make the right choice, and her gut was all too invested in the outcome of this one. Vorrin had been in danger before, but not since they had married.
Finally, she nodded. “It’s as good a plan as any.” She sent a silent, fervent wish up to her father, should he be watching out for her, that this plan was the right one.
They moved at a steady pace for several minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Boruc fell in step with Jendara. “I know this plan is a long shot.”
“I believe in your plan,
Boruc. Don’t take my nervousness for doubts in you.”
“I’m nervous, too,” he said. The words were strange, coming from the big man’s mouth. He and his brothers were three of a kind—tough, smart, hardy folk. They reminded her so strongly of her father that they could well have been her own brothers. Admitting fear or weakness went against their grain.
“It’s this place,” Tam said. Jendara started. She hadn’t even realized he’d been listening. He, too, was an island native, and as close to family as Boruc. “It weighs on me. The rocks, the constant shrieking of the wind, the smells. Everything is old here, and long dead.” A breeze stirred the flame of his lantern so it cast shadows across his face, turning his eyes to dark hollows.
“Not dead,” Zuna said. “Can’t you feel it? It knows we’re here.” She hesitated. “Not dead, but maybe sleeping.”
The wind gave a wheezing laugh, as if it took pleasure in their discomfort. Jendara rubbed her ears. She wasn’t cold, but the wind’s chill bit at her flesh.
Kran tugged at her arm, cupping his hand to his ear.
She listened for a second, then shook her head. “All I hear is the wind.”
He made an impatient hand gesture. The wind. Something about the wind.
“Why is there wind?” she asked. “We’re underground.”
Tam was nodding. “How does wind get into an underground tunnel? We’ve got to be near some kind of exit.” He looked excited, but Boruc was already shaking his head.
“Doesn’t mean anything. There could be a crack in the wall or a natural chimney. You see that all time in caves.”
Fylga trotted ahead to a spot where the tunnel bent leftward at a steep angle. She scrabbled at the tunnel wall, sniffing. Kran stooped beside the dog, feeling the wall carefully. He beckoned to the crew.
In their lantern light, the crack running up the northern wall was apparent. It grew wider toward the top, and a cool breeze came through it.
Jendara pushed on the tunnel wall. “There must be a natural fold in the island’s bedrock.” She closed her eyes and tried to remember what the island had looked like when they made their way around it. “There were three big ridges,” she mused, “each with its own steep valley.”
She opened her eyes to see Zuna nodding. “I remember them. There were smaller buildings tucked down into the valley, nothing like the spires on the tops of the hills.”
“So this must be the edge of one of the valleys, probably the northernmost one.” Jendara decided. “The buildings at the north end of the island looked more humble than the ones at the southern tip.”
“I’m not seeing how this helps,” Zuna interjected. “Our tunnel bends and goes west here.”
Jendara pulled her new axe from her belt. Boruc’s eyes widened in horror, but she reversed the beautiful tool in her hand and began to tap the handle against the wall. Stone flaked from the edges of the crack. “We’ve seen how the other rock walls take a blow. Maybe we can break this one down.”
“Even before it went under the sea, this side of the hill would have taken the brunt of the storm season,” Boruc reasoned. “And after coming up out of the sea? It’s got to be even weaker.”
Tam fell in beside her, rapping his pommel against the wall. “It’s chipping.”
“This is too slow,” Boruc grumbled. “Get out of the way.”
Jendara looked up from her hammering to see Boruc backing up. He lowered his shoulder, aiming the pommel of his sword like a battering ram. Jendara pulled Tam out of his way.
Boruc charged. With a wonderful crash, rock burst outward and moonlight poured in. Zuna grabbed at the back of Boruc’s shirt just in time to keep him from falling into open space. His arms windmilled as he teetered on the brink of a new cave mouth. Jendara caught his hand and helped pull him back inside.
“Merciful Desna,” Tam whispered.
It had been one thing to be in the city this morning, surrounded by light and standing on the edge of a great expanse of majestic buildings. It was an entirely other thing to stand here in the heart of it, the moon’s light beating down on the ancient ruins. The details of the buildings were obscured by heaps of drying seaweed, but the details didn’t matter. It was the scope of the place. Every inch of land was covered by rubble or the remains of some kind of structure or statue.
Low, rectangular buildings, still mostly intact, ran down the hill’s impossibly steep flanks. Broken plinths of stone bridged narrow gaps that must have once been alleys, and stone figurines stood beside almost every sagging or collapsed doorway. Jendara tried to imagine what it must have been like before it sank beneath the waves, and found her imagination not quite up to the task. By the look on Kran’s face, he was struggling, too.
Jendara took a cautious step toward the hole Boruc had smashed in the wall. Directly to Jendara’s right, the facade of a wide, templelike building jutted out of the cliff face, its columns still intact. Ornate stonework still showed in places where the masonry wasn’t overgrown with sea life or worn down by the elements. She could see the tracings of what could only be carved tentacles coiling around the bases of each column, twining up toward the sky.
“Tentacles,” she murmured. Kran gave her a sharp look.
“They must have worshiped the sea,” Zuna mused.
“And the stars,” Tam added. He pointed to their left, where a knot of shorter buildings somehow clung to the side of the steep hill. Most of them were badly damaged, but Jendara could still see the patterns of contrasting stones laid into their walls in the shapes of stars.
“It makes sense,” Zuna said. “To any seafarer, the stars are their best guide.”
“We could use a guide right about now,” Boruc grumbled. “We may have found our way out of that tunnel, but how in all hells are we supposed to get over that?”
Jendara tried to recall the island’s size and shape. “This is the northernmost valley,” she said slowly, “so once we go over that hill in front of us, we’d be looking right down at the dock the ulat-kini were building.”
Crossing the surface proved easier said than done. The group moved from ruin to ruin, testing the ground as they went. Sometimes they scrambled over fallen buildings; sometimes they circled around them. Jendara wished she could see inside some of the bigger ruins, but debris and seaweed choked any openings that still remained. They climbed and scrabbled their way across the city until the edge appeared and the worst of the debris flattened out.
Jendara picked up her pace, relieved to be on something like solid ground. She took a few quick steps and pulled ahead of Zuna and the others. They had nearly reached the ulat-kini.
Rubble shifted beneath her boots and Jendara felt herself sliding downhill. Her arms flailed and she caught the edge of a strange statue beside her. Stone and shells clattered over the edge of the cliff. A slab of stone, like some very worn and ancient roof tile, teetered on the drop-off and then slid over the brink. It fell a few feet and then caught on a thin lip of stone jutting out below.
Zuna and Tam arrived at the edge of the cliff, Boruc moving slowly behind them. Tam’s face was pale. His fingers fumbled at the knots around his waist until Zuna took over for him.
“Glad we roped up,” Zuna said. “There was a point there I might have lost Tam, otherwise.”
Boruc pointed out a pair of black knobs jutting up over the cliff’s edge, just a few feet to Jendara’s right. “Do you think that’s one of the ulat-kini’s ladders?”
She shifted over a few steps, keeping her hand on the sturdy statue, to peer over the edge. “Looks like it.” She gave the others a weak smile. “Nice of the ulat-kini to give us an easy way down to their camp.”
Zuna joined her beside the ladder. “Looks solid.” She crouched to look down at the water below while trying to stay hidden. “I don’t see many ulat-kini. Not even any kind of guard around this ladder.”
Jendara looked down. Far below, she could see the four ugly boats tied up at the dock, which was now quite a large floating platform supporti
ng a few shabby tents. At the farthest end, what appeared to be a clothesline held up a load of perfectly ordinary linen.
“I don’t think this is a raiding party. This looks like an entire community of ulat-kini.” She looked at Tam. “Does that make sense to you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re planning to settle this place?”
She turned her attention back to the camp. “Maybe.” The camp looked quiet and unassuming beside the strange floating dock. “The black ship is gone. Maybe it was a cargo vessel hired to bring the platform stuff?”
“No point wondering,” Boruc said. “We just have to get down there and see what we find.” He took hold of the ladder and began his descent, Zuna right behind him.
He was right, of course. They had to get down there and find out what there was to be discovered. Jendara just hoped she’d find Vorrin, safe and well.
Because if he wasn’t, there would be all hell to pay.
8
VOICES IN THE WIND
Darkness and shadow covered their descent into the ulat-kini camp. As Jendara’s boots hit the ground, she sent a little thanks out to the ancestor spirits, wherever they might be. Then she crept forward toward a pair of ulat-kini sitting on two empty barrels. If they were sentries, they had failed at their job.
As Zuna crept to the right, Jendara stalked toward the ulat-kini on the left. It sat up a little straighter, looking around. Jendara knocked it out before it realized what it was even looking at. Its pallid body lay sprawled on the floating platform, an obscene mix of human, fish, and frog parts. Jendara resisted the urge to kick it over the side of the platform so she could stop looking at it; this mission called for silence.
The other creature, absorbed in the fishing net it held in its finny fingers, suddenly realized its friend had fallen on the ground in front of it. It jumped to its feet just as a gust of wind rifled Zuna’s hair, sending her bells jingling. The creature spun around, eyes wide.
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