“Tell me about the carvings.”

  He stood and put his hands in the pockets of his ragged coat. “Fifty thousand years old, so I’ve read. And the deeper you go, the more of this stuff you can see.”

  “Let’s take a look.”

  He stared at her for a moment before beckoning her farther along a street that continued to narrow until it became a tunnel proper, its walls roughly hewn, bereft of any masonry. The lights were now infrequent and the shadows grew inexorably between them. Foot traffic was scarce, people hurried by as if they had no wish to linger, while all manner of sounds clattered and whispered through the pipes overhead. Kaddie could hear voices among them. Whispers from the promised ghosts, or mundane chatter from elsewhere, she was unable to determine for sure.

  Her companion slowed his pace. “We should have brought a lantern.”

  “Do people live this deep?”

  “Yes. And work.”

  “By choice, or necessity?”

  “What do you think?”

  She sighed, kept her mouth shut, and followed him deeper into the depths of the second city. That he had a massive chip on his shoulder was obvious, although in honesty it was probably no greater than hers, albeit for different reasons.

  “Here,” he said, after they’d gone another fifty paces. “Look at the walls on either side.”

  A single lantern grumbled and sputtered from its shallow hanging in the ceiling. Kaddie walked until she was standing directly beneath it where its light shone on the upper sections of the walls. Blocks of old stone stood beneath the rendered foundations. They appeared squat and groaning under the weight of it all. Their faces, however, bore endless carvings, containing a myriad of symbols.

  Kaddie splayed her fingers across the stone. Immediately, the whispers inside her head grew once more. Studiously, she ignored them. “It’s not a regular pattern. It’s like a language.”

  Torrell’s face became animated. “The city library has books about it,” he said. “By all accounts the palace has some, too. And no one has been able to decipher it, yet.”

  They walked a little farther into the gloom, and as she listened to him expanding on the subject, she realized where his true interests lay, down here in the tunnels and not in the kitchen, boiling bark and decanting potions into dubiously labeled bottles.

  Steep, narrow steps led down to another level. “It’s been written that we’ve only uncovered a tenth of this place,” he said. “There’s supposed to be much, much more.”

  “Grandmother always said it was full of ghosts.”

  “If it is, I’d like to talk to them.” They rounded a corner and the way ahead was completely dark. He let out a sigh. “Lantern must have burned out.”

  “Probably time we got back, anyway?” Kaddie was becoming restless, still feeling the weight of the city above her head, and with the deepening gloom, the whispers were becoming louder. “You like it down here,” she said as they retraced their steps.

  “I just want to know more about it. Who lived here and what happened? Why was it abandoned?”

  “Don’t the history books tell you anything?”

  “A lot of them are written by those who have never come down here.”

  They climbed the stairway, crossed the subsequent tunnel’s opposite side and began another flight. Abruptly, Torrell stopped. His arm flew out and blocked her from taking another step. Unprepared, she almost lost her balance.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  About to offer him a sharp rebuke, she looked beyond his outstretched arm and saw the silhouette of two figures waiting at the top of the steps. One appeared casual, arms folded, leaning against the wall. The other was on edge, his fists clenching repeatedly.

  “Can’t come any farther until you pay a toll.” A male voice.

  Kaddie frowned. “And what if we don’t?”

  “Shh.” Torrell said. “Let me deal with it.”

  She ducked by him and kept on climbing. “Well?” Her hand reached inside her coat, searching for the stitched leather of her sickle scabbard.

  Body language at the top of the steps had shifted. She guessed, from their height and narrow build, that they were young, her age, maybe less. The one with the clenched fists was now jumping up and down nervously on the balls of his feet, while the other had left the wall and had taken a step back. No weapons that she could see. She picked up speed, rushing up the remaining steps, and bowled directly into the jumper who hadn’t run away as she’d expected.

  They fell hard. Kaddie scrambled to her feet and was drawing the sickle from her coat pocket when the boy lashed out and punched her square in the face.

  She blinked furiously. “Think you’re tough?” Her knife was out of its leather sleeve. Her opponent was standing frozen, his mouth open, his eyes on the curved, wicked blade. “Not so tough, now, hmm?” She took a step forward and felt something warm running down her chin.

  “Run!” the boy’s companion yelled.

  Her eyes began to water. She heard feet scuffling against the pavement, the sound becoming less and less. Someone grabbed her arm and she lashed out.

  “Hey, hey, it’s me.” It was Torrell’s voice. “Put the knife away! Maiden’s fingers, Kaddie.”

  “Not so tough, now!” she hollered down the tunnel.

  Pain swelled like a fierce tide and her face began to throb. She tried to laugh but it hurt too much.

  “You’re bleeding. Come on, we need to get out of here.” He pushed a crumpled linen handkerchief into her hand.

  “I don’t know where that’s been.” Her voice was muffled, her nose felt blocked.

  “It’s clean. Now stop fussing, put the—no, give me the knife—just keep your head down and try not to swallow—”

  “I know what to do.” She allowed him to pry the sickle from her stubborn fingers, and as they continued their ascent, she hung tightly onto his arm as her head spun and her face burned.

  ##

  Robles was pacing back and forth in front of the fire in his study. “What in the Mother’s name were you thinking?”

  Her face still hurt despite Elspeth and Marla’s ministrations. A cold compress, strifefire for the pain, accompanied by a mild scolding from both women.

  “The skin’s split but at least your nose isn’t broken,” Marla had said in the midst of tut-tutting and offering an extensive list of things a young woman shouldn’t be doing.

  Kaddie had put up with it gladly, knowing it was nothing compared to the tongue-lashing that awaited. At least Torrell had kept quiet about the sickle. She watched Robles’ jaw clench and his eyes dart toward her colleague.

  “It was my fault,” she said, before he could unleash his wrath on Torrell.

  “Your fault? Your fault? And I suppose you started the fight, too.”

  “It wasn’t like that.” Torrell gasped as Kaddie elbowed him in the ribs.

  “You.” Robles stabbed a finger at the young man. “Out.”

  Kaddie let out the breath she’d been holding. Her lungs seemed reluctant to inhale another. In the hearth, the fire crackled and popped and it was the only sound in the study for an interminable amount of time.

  Eventually, her employer sank into a battered armchair and gestured to the dreaded, three-legged stool. “Tell me what you saw down there.” His voice had switched timbre, leveled out.

  Cautiously, she took a seat. “I didn’t see much. It was dark. Torrell wanted to show me the beginnings of the ruins.”

  “Well, of course he did. He’s fascinated. Is it what you expected?”

  She regarded him suspiciously. No doubt he’d be picking holes in everything she said. “It’s dark, there’s a sense of foreboding and the walls are full of whispers. I found it of interest, but not to the point it would affect my studies.”

  “Of interest?” Robles raised an eyebrow. “I should say so. There’s a mystery buried below the second city. Why do you think I allow Torrell his frequent explorations?”

  “It’s a distraction.”

  “For you, yes. But not for him.” He picked up the hearth poker and began stabbing at the fire. Bright orange embers rose from the burning coals and sped up the chimney. “Marla tells me you’ll heal up with nothing more than a scar.”

  She nodded. Her nose still throbbed, and her eyes still watered. “I was taught not to back down.”

  Explosive laughter greeted her. The iron poker clattered as it was tossed carelessly into its receptacle. “Oh, I can imagine. Well, girl, back to work.”

  She waited until she was outside Robles’ door before expressing a loud sigh of relief. Fears of punishment gone, instead anger began nibbling at her heels. Despite being armed, she’d nonetheless been unprepared beneath the streets of Terohas, and she vowed it wouldn’t happen again.