CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

They rode through the foggy streets while chunks of hail shattered on the cobblestones. Huddled under the hood of her cloak, Josey shivered and kept her eyes on the street. Between the freezing rain and the howling wind, speech was next to impossible. Not that she had much to say to the men surrounding her.

Somewhere out in the storm, the assassin was headed for a safe place to lick its wounds. And they followed.

By the light of her soldiers’ lanterns, she could see Hirsch, astride his steed in an intersection of three streets. The adept leaned over in the saddle, his face nearly touching the soaked ivory mane of his little steed. Every few breaths he would look down at a glass case in his hand while the rest of their party—pitiful as it was—waited a respectful distance away. Josey sat between Captain Drathan and Hubert. The captain had wanted to bring more men, but Hirsch had insisted on fewer. As they argued the merits of strength versus stealth, Josey sided with the adept. Enough of her men had died already.

The Crimson Tigers, Volek and Merts, made up the rest of the small company. The two sat on their fierce-looking horses a few paces from the group, no doubt conversing about stratagems. After the assassin’s attack, Major Volek had refused medical care despite the nasty bruise on his forehead. Josey supposed he was ashamed for some perceived failure, but she didn’t see what he could have done differently. They had been caught ill prepared and paid the price.

Likewise, the sergeant, insisting that his injuries were negligible, had also asked to accompany them. When he stripped the sling from his arm and flexed it to prove his readiness, Josey didn’t have the heart to deny him.

After what felt like a short lifetime, Hirsch turned his steed northward and took off down a narrow street at a canter. Josey choked up on the slick reins as she headed after him, her protectors keeping pace on either side. She couldn’t help thinking about what they would do when they finally cornered the assassin. Under their oilskin ponchos, each guardsman carried a crossbow with steel-headed bolts designed to penetrate heavy armor, but so far mundane weapons hadn’t proved effective against the assassin, and Master Hirsch didn’t have the resources to enspell them. For the thousandth time in the last couple days, Josey wished Caim was here.

A strong smell cut through the rain. It took only a moment’s concentration to identify the combination of distinct odors—mud, fish, and garbage—that was the river. She clenched her thighs together, which made Lightning toss up his head in irritation. Patting his neck, Josey forced herself to relax. She trusted in the adept. She had to.

The street climbed to the top of a steep embankment. The river, swollen with rainwater, rushed past on the other side. Josey steered her steed away from the edge and tried not to think about what might happen if she were to fall into those turbulent waters.

They passed a row of houses on the bank’s landward side. The storm and the dark made getting her bearings difficult, but Josey guessed they must be getting close to the Processional, which meant they were approaching the city cemetery. Josey had too many memories of that place to suppress them all. The most recent, and the hardest to dismiss, was the day she had “buried” Caim. The mere thought of it produced a twinge in her breast. Damn you, Caim. Will I ever see you again?

Josey reined up. The adept had halted before a decrepit brick building.

“Is this it?” Captain Drathan asked over the clamor of the storm.

Hirsch nodded weakly, and Josey was seized by a pang of regret. Master Hirsch had spoken to her alone before they left the palace.

“I forged the letter, lass,” he’d said to her with pain in his eyes, not all of it physical. “My order didn’t send me. Truth be told, they banned me from coming.”

When she confessed she didn’t understand, the adept bowed his head. “But I had to come. Too much rests on your success. Earl Frenig was a great man. A great friend. I should have done more …”

In that moment, an image popped into Josey’s head, of a small ivory plaque bearing a face. Hirsch’s face. He’d been one of her foster father’s coconspirators.

“Master Hirsch—”

“He loved you, lass. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you be torn down by the same bastards who took his life.”

Brushing raindrops from her eyes, Josey dismounted. The building the adept had indicated looked like an apartment home. The brick was worn, showing traces of a distant whitewashing. The windows were empty holes, their canvas panes torn or nonexistent. Sleet rattled on helmets and armored plates as the guardsmen threw back their ponchos and checked their weapons.

Captain Drathan, sword in hand, peered at the building through his visor. “Majesty, this situation gives every advantage to our enemy.” He pointed to the gaps on either side of the building, at the windows and roof. “They can come at us from any direction, and it would take an entire company to secure all the ways in and out.”

Josey helped Hirsch climb down from the saddle. “Forget about securing it, Captain. We’re going inside.”

He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him a chance to argue.

“All of us. Make it happen.”

As Captain Drathan turned away to instruct his men, Josey studied Hirsch. The adept’s condition was deteriorating. His face was as pale as a fish belly, and he shook as he leaned against her.

Hirsch gave her a wan smile. “Not as bad off as I look, no doubt.” His voice was barely audible over the storm. “Anyway, it’s got to be done and there ain’t no one else to do it.”

Josey tried to smile. Hubert saved her the awkwardness of having to mouth an encouragement that the adept neither wanted nor needed.

“Majesty.” Hubert leaned close to be heard. “Major Volek suggests we move inside quickly. Something about too many places for hidden eyes to watch us out here. I can’t say I disagree. This place makes my skin crawl.”

“I agree, and this weather isn’t making things any easier.”

“We could burn the place down,” Hubert suggested. “Safer than entering the spider’s lair.”

“No. We don’t know who’s inside. There could be innocents. Have Captain Drathan find us a way in.”

Hirsch lifted his hand, his index finger pointing to a cellar door set against the side of the building. With a nod from Josey, Hubert hurried over to the captain, and together with the guardsmen they approached the entrance. Josey helped Hirsch over the muddy ground. The soldiers pulled open the cellar doors as Josey and the adept came over to stand beside Hubert and the captain. The light of their lanterns showed worn stone steps falling away into darkness. Before the freezing rain washed them away, Josey saw wet patches on the steps. Footsteps.

While Josey shivered against the adept, Captain Drathan selected two to remain outside with the horses, giving them strict orders to ride back to the palace for assistance if the party was gone for longer than a candlemark. The other two he sent down the stairs first. As the soldiers descended, crossbows held ready, the circle of their lantern’s light pushing back the darkness, the captain looked to Josey.

“Majesty,” he said. “I would prefer that you return to the palace.”

She shook her head, sending droplets of icy water flying from the ends of her hair. “No, Captain. We will all go in together. Lead the way.”

With a nod, Captain Drathan took up a lantern and went down the steps. Hubert and Josey each took one of the adept’s arms. Although Josey had the feeling Hirsch didn’t want the aid, he didn’t complain. The major and Sergeant Merts came last, both men wearing grim expressions beneath the half-visors of their helmets.

They went down a dozen steps to emerge into a crude root cellar. Strange smells filled the place. The brick walls were pocked with holes, possibly to hold shelves, and the floor was littered with dirt, tree branches, and withered leaves. Hirsch paused at the bottom of the steps to catch his breath, and Josey felt ashamed. The adept was pushing himself too hard. Don’t crumple! Honor his loyalty with strength.

More wet patches formed a trail across the cellar. Leaving the adept with Hubert, Josey followed Captain Drathan and his men to investigate. As she came up behind the soldiers, she realized Major Volek and the sergeant had come with her. She’d grown so accustomed to the presence of bodyguards that she hadn’t registered the footsteps behind her, which was a little unnerving. She smiled to the major, and he returned a brief nod.

Her guards stood around a hole in the wall. Bricks and chunks of mortar were piled on the floor in front of the aperture, which was big enough to accommodate a man. Beyond the hole extended what looked like a tunnel through solid rock extending as far as she could see. Josey’s mind boggled to comprehend the amount of labor that must have been required.

“This can’t be the work of the assassin, can it?” she asked.

Captain Drathan held his lantern higher. “This would take a team of engineers months to dig out. It’s … I don’t know what to make of it.”

“—combs.”

Master Hirsch shuffled up to stand beside Josey.

“What did you say, Master Hirsch?” she asked.

The adept coughed into his hand. “Catacombs. Carved from a system of caves under the city.”

“Who made them?”

“Why did they make them?” Captain Drathan asked.

Hirsch wheezed as he inhaled through his nose. “Predecessors of the modern … Church found the”—he coughed again—“caves and used them to meet in secret. Later … they enlarged them to bury their dead where they would not be … disturbed.”

Josey remembered from her catechism that the Church had been outlawed by the empire at one time. Tolerance came eventually and the True Faith had spread, but this was the first she’d heard of catacombs under Othir. It bothered her that something like this could be hidden from common knowledge.

“Why would they believe that their dead were not safe in the boneyard?”

“Your ancestors.” The adept nodded to Josey. “They ordered the remains of those who worshipped the upstart Prophet to be removed from their graves, wherever they were found … and thrown into the Memnir. A heinous desecration in those times.”

Josey peered through the crack. The walls of the tunnel were unfinished, as was the floor. “Master Hirsch, are you well enough to lead us?”

“My men and I can go first, sir,” Captain Drathan said.

“Thank you, Captain. But no, this falls under my purview.”

Holding onto the rough edges, Hirsch stepped through the hole. The palace guards went next, with everyone else following. Their footsteps echoed down the tunnel like the march of a gigantic, shambling beast. Josey stayed near Hubert and his lantern. The closeness of the stone walls didn’t bother her as much as she had thought it would. In a way, the tunnel reminded her of the terrifying voyage through the city sewers with Caim, him bleeding all over her. But she had survived that nightmare and found strength in it. She wanted to think she wasn’t the same sheltered little girl she had once been.

Then Josey muffled a yelp with her hand as something skittered over her foot.

Captain Drathan spun around with his lantern over his head. “Majesty?”

She swallowed. It was just a rat. “I’m all right, Captain. Proceed.”

With a nod, he quickened his pace to catch up to Master Hirsch. The tunnel forked ahead of them. Without pausing, Hirsch headed down the branch to the right. As she passed the split, Josey glanced down the other direction. It was an identical tunnel as far as she could tell, running as far as the lanterns could reach. She shivered as she hurried after Hubert, who waited for her with a tight smile. It was cold down here, especially as they were soaking wet, but it wasn’t the cold that made her tremble. The thought of being trapped down here alone, without a light, jangled her nerves. To take her mind off it, she focused on the captain’s back.

They passed a smooth stone face set into the tunnel wall. Josey paused a moment, and Hubert stayed with her. It took her a moment to grasp that it was a grave marker. Dust filled the indentations of rigid characters carved into the stone. Hubert brushed away the accumulation, and Josey recognized the script as old Nimean. It listed a score or so names, and a number had been chiseled at the top of the stone—816. Josey reached out to trace the date. So much history, lost for centuries. What other secrets hide down here in the dark?

“Stirring, is it not?” Major Volek asked, standing beside her. “To think that on this spot, more than three hundred years ago, men and women who didn’t know if they would live to see another day gathered to mark the passage of their brothers and sisters into the Prophet’s arms.”

“Are you a religious man, Major?”

“Without the Light, how could we find our way in this dark world?”

Josey was surprised to hear such words from the stoic soldier. Sergeant Merts watched the exchange without reaction, as impassive as the stone around them. Josey and Hubert continued on, followed by the heavy trod of the soldiers’ boots.

The tunnel split again, and then again fifty paces or so after that. Each time, Hirsch chose the right branch, and Josey began to worry that the adept had lost his sense of direction. No. He’s gotten us this far. Have faith. But faith was an expensive commodity down here.

A few steps farther the tunnel widened, and Josey heard a sound in the darkness. A rhythmic plinking.

“Water.”

Hubert turned his head. “What?”

“Listen. It’s dripping water.” She reached out to the wall. The stone was slick with moisture. “We must be under the river.”

Hubert tapped his toe in a small puddle on the floor. “How far do these catacombs extend? Majesty, we should send a team down here to search for hidden ways into the city.”

Josey gave him a short nod, hiding her smile as she looked down the tunnel and began to hope that they were coming to the end of it. She stood on her tiptoes to look over Hubert’s shoulder. For a moment she thought she saw something in the shadows. A brief flicker of movement, too quick for her to be sure. She was about to forget it when a loud yell echoed from the front of the party.

Josey tried to push past Hubert, but she jumped when something from the ceiling bounced off her shoulder. She looked down to see a small rock on the floor. She looked up and didn’t have time to shout a warning before the world collapsed.