“You know what’s going on in Dentheria.” Patch let his sack slide from his fingers and regarded the woman with suspicion. Lack of trust drove his interactions with the underground, and even though Lapis did not think the two a danger, he disagreed.
“It’s in our best interest to follow what transpires with the enemy.” Marel hmped, waved at them with the bottom of her cane, and turned around. “Here and abroad.” Her eyes flicked to the khentauree; did she assume them foreign beings? Tuft was, but Path had spent most of her existence in the forest north of Jiy.
“What Marel’s trying to say is that we’ve had nosy shanks in the tunnels,” Darl said, ignoring her searing glare. “Not from Jiy rings or syndicates, either. They’re outland shanks invited by that smuggler Mayventhel to prod and pry in tunnels where they shouldn’t be. They’re shanks that talk about the Stars until boredom sets in.”
“They are beholden to Kez?” Tuft asked, and both shuddered at the sudden chill that filled the air.
“We know no Kez,” Marel said, squinting at him as she pulled the collar to her robe closed. “But we do know Drakeways and the Beryl have joined to fight the Rams.”
“Drakeways?” Lapis whispered, shocked. Drakeways was in Jiy?
“Yes. A Dentheria syndicate, I gather. They arrived a couple of weeks ago, and from the chatter of Mayventhel’s shanks, made asses of themselves. The bit shanks don’t trust them, but the Beryl leadership apparently does. Why? They want their new toll road back and they can’t manage the Rams by themselves.”
“The Rams may have cleared them out, but they’re not the only ones interested in keeping the runway clear,” Patch said. “That route’s been free for as long as any remember. It’s in all the ring and syndicate’s favor to keep the Beryl from blocking the major underground route from the Avranda to Blossom.”
Darl nodded. “We used to use it, too. It’s the simplest way to access the upside, but, well, now both sides run patrols.”
“They’ve made it more and more difficult for us to maneuver unseen,” Marel said as she walked down the orangy-pink, undecorated hall leading away from the pool.
If they wished to stay hidden so badly, why had they exposed themselves to their small group? Unease settled in her tummy, though she did not see two older individuals as particularly strong enemies against three younger humans and two khentauree.
Darl waved them on like a mother herding her children inside for dinner. Path cheerfully pranced after the woman, and Lapis snagged Patch’s bag before following. She had suffered enough surprise encounters since her first visit with Dagby, and she did not trust this one to proceed without some cost. Surely the Ambercaast khentauree understood the danger inherent in the meeting?
They reached a round room with engaged columns circling it, floor-to-ceiling paintings in the gaps between. Towering individuals in robes and leaf-encrusted diadems held fruits and scepters made from tree branches, their half-lidded, peaceful gazes focused on the smaller, barefoot people parading in front of them. The lesser carried offerings through a forest and to a hollow rock on top of a grassy hill, following a man and a woman in filmy green cloth holding bowls with red dripping from them. Their single-point crowns rose tall from their heads, with a winking crimson gem at the tip of the peak.
On the ceiling, the sun sat in splendor, its glowing yellow blending to orange, crimson, then deep purple with a spattering of stars. Bright rays struck each taller individual in the head, and some touched the capitals of the columns before running down the flutes to the tiled floor. Instead of religious white, the squares were an earthy brown mingled with chunks of rock, some grainy and uninspired, some brilliant with a rainbow of reflected color.
“This is like the room at Ragehill,” Lapis said, turning around to view the still-vibrant images.
“Ragehill?” Darl asked, frowning. “Where’s that?”
“It’s in the northern mountains of Abastion. Taangis built a military base on top of it, and when they abandoned Theyndora, locals moved it. There’s a room like this one there.”
His eyes lit. “Interesting. I thought we rediscovered all the extant offering galleries.”
“Offering galleries?” She supposed that explained the imagery.
“Each major temple had one so the head priest could hold secret religious ceremonies with community rulers. When used, these rooms had unrefined reed pads and a variety of incense held in bowls next to them. Participant would kneel on the reeds and light the incense in a specific order, waiting for each cone to blacken before they lit another. It was uncomfortable, smelly, and in my opinion, the way religious institutions got revenge on rulers for being terrible leaders. Many accounts of the ceremony talk about how those kneeling had deep bruises for weeks afterwards.”
Lapis ached in sympathy for the long dead who endured such a thing. While a relatively minor event on the scale of horrid, she imagined when the time approached for another ceremony, those who had to participate sank into dread despondency.
“Historian!” Marel called, rapping the bottom of her cane into the floor. She had reached a golden doorway, but the rest of them remained in the center of the room, studying the display.
“Yes, yes,” the man said with a heavy sigh. They continued down another plain, orangy-pink hallway, which ended in a receiving room with magenta-cushioned couches surrounding a low, redwood table topped by a mosaic depicting a pink sunrise, the tesserae half the size of a fingernail. Tapestries with various seasons hung from the walls; originals, by the ratty edges and odd holes, but the embroidery held enough color to impress.
Lapis liked the look, though she could do with a little less pink.
A rumble, felt more than heard, stopped her. Darl and Marel looked at each other, and the woman shook her head. “Yvere said this is a particularly violent clash, and she wanted to end it before any shanks flee down the stairs. We can’t have them finding the Tree Room.”
“We sensed a tech conflict, which is why we took the stairs,” Path hummed.
“Yes. The Drakeways shanks have quite the arsenal.” Marel settled her hands over one another on top of her cane’s hook. “I’d say they raided an old Taangin storage facility by the look of it. I have no idea where they got their toys, but they’re destructive. And that’s why we need to speak.”
“Is it?” Patch asked, planting his hand on his hip. A quick dip into his pants’ pocket and his crossbow would be ready to sing. Lapis set her bundles down; they clanked together and sagged over, and she hoped she could avoid them if a fight ensued.
“It is,” Darl agreed as he flumped onto a couch. He looked up at them, any cheer draining from him. “We want to keep as much of the temple intact as possible. We’re the caretakers, and this place represents the Jils and their culture and beliefs better than any other site in Jilvayna. Despite the criminal element, these tunnels have kept it safe from those who would destroy the most important parts of the complex. With the new clashes, and the tech the Drakeways brought, that safety is compromised. We need protection, and, well, if things go the way I think they will in Dentheria, not just from syndicates.”
“And you think we can help in this?” Patch asked.
“I know you can,” Darl said.
Oh? He sounded so certain, but why? What did he know, or think he knew, about them that made him believe they could protect this hidden temple?
“We realize, we’re asking a lot.” Marel’s voice deepened, as if she held back abrupt, unwanted emotional pain. “Trust isn’t easy to gain. So we offer something in return.” She sucked in a large breath as her hand tightened on her cane. “We had representatives at the Lells when Lord Krios, Veritiate Deathknell Jarosa, Sir Armarandos, and others spoke about creating the community centers, a much-needed good during a desperate time. We’ve heard whispers in the undermarkets that these same leaders are conducting meetings concerning Dentheria. We would like to attend and form relationships with those who participate, in hopes we can protect this small bit of history with their help. In exchange, we will give you access to the royal palace.”
Lapis rocked back, stunned. Access to the palace? How?
“You are very blunt,” Tuft said. From his stiff posture, he did not trust the words, and Patch’s blank face meant neither did he.
“What’s the use of playing with words? Others are better suited to it than me.”
“She is not a diplomat,” Darl agreed.
“Which is why you and Vora will be our representatives.” Marel narrowed her eyes at him, and Lapis bet, if he sat nearer, she would have rapped him on the leg with her cane. “That is not the point.”
Darl nodded, wagging his finger in the air. “True enough. The point is a history lesson. You see, before Taangis invaded the Jils, their largest city, Caiy Wrain, rested on the hills of Greencastle, Harkenberry, and the Reeds. Its government center was the Corvain, the temple-like residence of the corva, the Jils most important leader. The corva at the time heard reports of the Taangis Empire overrunning the eastern peoples of Theyndora. Concerned about the inevitable invasion, he dug an escape route from the Corvain to a natural tunnel that went under the Avranda and to this complex. When the unfortunate city fell, he fled with survivors to the temple. The priesthood had already hidden access to the inner sanctum, so when Taangis soldiers roared through the outer tunnels, they destroyed a few statues, desecrated a few walls, and never found the devotees.
“In later years, the caretakers kept the route open, more for preservation purposes than anything. Believe it or not, it’s the tunnel the royal survivor of Dentheria’s invasion took to escape her pursuers. Quite the shock, when she showed up on the temple’s doorstep, but our predecessors invited her in and hid her until it was safer for her to leave. Her guards thought to lose the enemy in the twisty tunnels and ended up with unexpected allies that helped form the initial Jilvaynan rebellion.” He shook his head, as if he realized he rambled. Lapis wished he would continue; she had never heard a story about the creation of the Jilvayna rebellion that included strange Jils aiding the princess. “Anyway, the first puppet king decided to plunk the palace on the sad remains of the Corvain’s columns. The caretakers of the time cleared out the debris and used it to spy on him.” He hmphed. “Fool king then, fool king now.”
“Subservience to Dentheria is the only qualification,” Patch said. Lapis glanced at him; his disbelief mixed with another emotion she could not identify. Revenge, perhaps?
“There is a caveat,” Marel said.
“Of course,” Tuft buzzed, his tone so dull she glared at him before continuing.
“We haven’t used the tunnel in fifty or so years because it runs through Rams territory, and evading their people became too dangerous to chance one of ours. We put a gate over the entrance on this side and left it. No one’s opened it since, so it might not be in the best of shape.” She dug into a deep pocket and withdrew a solid black key. “If you wish to check it out, I give you this.”
Nolin retrieved it and handed it to Patch, who eyed the object while his patch spun in a blue whirl.
“Oh, and masks!” Darl heaved himself to his feet with a groan and shuffled out the door.
“Masks?” Tuft asked, wary.
“Those tunnels flooded a couple of years ago, leaving behind slimy black muck. The Rams scrubbed down the ones they used most often but left the rest. We’re assuming the slime is still there, and it may be hazardous to breathe.” Marel focused on the khentauree. “Not that you would have problems.”
Lapis had watched Tuft protect his hands from gunk-coated things before. He was not immune to the effects of icky stuff, even if it was mental instead of physical.
“Yvere—” Darl's voice echoed from the hallway.
“Fight’s over for now. I can lead them to the tunnel.”
“Yvere!”
“You’re not going in your slippers, Darl.”
Darl spluttered as a tanned woman dressed in a typical Jiy laced tunic and ratty brown pants sped into the room, clutching several lower face masks made from a black material that had a gem-like shine to it. She smiled, her red cheeks bright with excitement, and her brunette curls bounced about, as enthusiastic as she was.
“I’m Yvere. Nice to make your acquaintance. These are masks from Taangis. They may be a little hard to breathe in, but they’re excellent at keeping the nasty out.” She looked at their sacks. “Did you want to leave those here? They seem a bit unwieldy.”
“We’re on a timeline,” Patch said. “Lanth needs to get these back and complete the stake. I’ll check the tunnel out.”
He accepted a mask, grabbed the sides, and stretched it while Lapis wavered between annoyance that he ordered her away and relief that she would not have to traipse through a dark, dirty tunnel when she felt so vulnerable. But, she, admitted, if he did not return, she could sound an alarm and mount a rescue—if the Jils people did not get them first.
She wished they had not offered a direct line to the palace. That would pique her partner’s interest and prod him into putting aside his normal caution, because a secret route bypassing Gall’s guards would give the rebels access to the vaunted building. Her brother would expect no less.
She looked down at her feet, at the other bulging packs, and sighed. Carting the load would slow her down, and keeping to the back alleys and rarely traveled lanes would leave her susceptible to shanks, and if the Beryl caught her—
“I shall accompany Lanth.”
The offer from Tuft startled her, but gratitude welled. She would not have to carry all the heavy khentauree parts by herself! “Thank you, that would be nice.”
Patch grinned at her, then planted a kiss on her nose. “Wait up?”
She nodded. Worry rather than sleep would plague her until he returned, and he knew it.
Nolin and Path accepted masks, and even though she did not need one, the khentauree tried it on, as bouncy as Yvere over the new experience. Would she feel the same after black gunk coated her chassis? Perhaps that was why Tuft volunteered. Self-interest rather than being nice played more of a role, but she would accept it.
