Chapter 4

Finally, a stroke of luck. The entrance to the tunnel hadn’t collapsed. We could, at the very least, get out of the wellspring. If it collapsed further up, that might be a problem, but it was one we could solve. Mana poisoning wasn’t.

“Help me pull this block back in place,” I said.

The tunnel's antechamber was large enough to fit a small crew of roughly human-sized workers. The General and I had little trouble standing side by side to haul on the ancient chains. The block slid back into place with relative ease. The original builders did good work.

As soon as the gap was closed, the throbbing pressure at the back of my mind, subtle and massive, faded. It was still pitch dark; the antechamber was well cut off from sunlight. But, I instinctively knew that my eyes would work if I found a torch.

“What about mortar?”

“Nothing we can do about that,” I said. “It’ll leak a little. Can’t be helped.”

“Light?”

“Unless you’ve got a torch up your skirt, we’ll have to make do.”

She sniffed indignantly. A moment later, the antechamber was filled with a soft, amber glow. As my eyes adjusted, I realized she was holding a golden amulet in her hand, the chain still around her neck. It bore the sigil of Soeh, the God of Light.

“Faith?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Lady Flir believes it to be beneath her. I know better. Is that a problem?”

There was a veiled threat there. Only a fool would answer to the affirmative.

“Not at all,” I said. “Just surprised, is all.”

“Then you have much to learn about me, Sclopetarius Nock.” She paused, and cocked her head to the side, like a kitten that discovered its first butterfly. “That is an awkward title to say.”

“You can just call me Nock,” I said. “Garan, if you’re feeling informal.”

“A given name and a family name? My, aren’t we feeling fancy,” she teased. “Very well. In the spirit of our predicament, you may call me Kaze.”

“Kaze it is,” I said. “Shall we press on, or wait a spell?”

“Wait? I would think you would want to make for the surface as quickly as possible. The hero has undoubtedly fled. You may yet catch him if we hurry.”

“That little dipshit isn’t on my priority list,” I said.

“He did try to kill you.”

“So did you,” I pointed out. “Look, Plajin is a pain in my ass, and I’d just as soon shoot him as look at him, but I’m not too fussed about revenge.”

“Surely you’re joking. It’s one thing to face off against a worthy opponent. It’s quite another to stab an ally in the back.”

“I’ll admit, I’m not thrilled about it,” I said. “On the other hand, I can’t help but feel sorry for the kid. Scrawny farm boy gets plucked out of obscurity and made a hero, gets sent on an impossible quest with a party of psychopathic ex-adventurers with exactly two scruples between them. Some folks break bad by degrees. That boy got shoved headlong into the depths without so much as a plank to help keep his head above the water.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” Kaze said.

“No, but it does explain him.”

“It doesn’t explain why he would betray you. What explanation could he possibly have for that?”

“Put yourself in his shoes for a second. You’re off on this quest, going round and round in circles for a few years because Lady Flir is as slippery as a greased weasel. Suddenly you find a strange old man who’s made more progress in a few months, seemingly for the hell of it. That strike you as suspicious?”

“When you put it like that, it does sound odd,” she said. “He must have suspected you were an agent of Lady Flir.”

“A suspicion all but confirmed when he found me trying to make nice with one of her generals,” I said. “The boy is a lot of nasty things, but stupid he is not. Being honest, I should have seen this coming. I’d have thought the same thing of me.”

“A point,” she conceded. “Very well. If we’re not bound to haste by vengeance, I would appreciate the chance to rest. Our battle took more out of me than I’d like to admit.”

“Too damn right,” I said, and levered myself to the ground, using my musket to take the weight off my aching knees. “Last time I fought that hard, there was a Great Wyrm involved.”

She, apparently, had no such trouble with her knees. Kaze lowered herself gracefully, not even bothering to use her hands for balance.

“Do you need to touch the amulet to make it glow?” I asked.

“No. I infused enough mana to keep it lit for a few hours.”

“Good. You can hang it off the bayonet lug.”

I sat the musket upright on the buttstock. Enchantments held it perfectly straight, and as stable as bedrock.

“Neat trick,” she said, and took my advice.

“That musket is more like your staff than a simple weapon,” I said. “It has all sorts of useful features. Speaking of staves-“

“You needn’t apologize. I’ll admit, you’re better than me. I couldn’t have forced you to surrender. Had you not destroyed it, I would have likely been forced to kill you,” she said. “It would have been a shame.”

I was suddenly aware, keenly, of how close we were. Not touching, exactly, but the antechamber left little room for personal space. It was built for function, not comfort. Kaze was close enough, I could feel the warmth from her skin. She felt like a blazing torch in the cool, damp air of the tunnel.

Odd. There was nothing particularly suggestive in her tone. Pheromones? Catfolk used them a great deal more than humans.

Or, and this was the answer I chose to believe, it had been a long damn time since I was this close to someone who wasn’t trying to kill me. The life of an ignimancer is a lonely one.

Best to change the subject. There was no way she was interested in an old fart like me, and besides, we had bigger problems.

“The real shame is, I had to drop my pack before the fight. A bedroll wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Humans,” she hissed. “Always so needy.”

“Hey, I’m old. Stone doesn’t make nearly as nice a pillow as it used to.”

She stretched, long and lean and lithe, and curled up on the floor.

“Do you snore?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” I said.

“Then you may use my lap again. Just know that if you’re lying about snoring, you will never wake.”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Oh well. In for a copper, in for a gold.

“Well, since you offered,” I said, stretching out as best I could and resting my head atop her legs. “I’ll take a dagger to the throat over a crick in the neck.”