Keir (2 page)

The murky liquid reached the edge of the fabric as she groped in the mire, seeking something below the surface. It seemed she did not find it, for she soon withdrew her arm with a sound of deep distaste. Muttering imprecations under her breath, she rose and shook off as much of the sludge as she could, then rubbed herself dry with one corner of her robes.

“Is this a sewer, do you know?”

“Can you not tell?”

“I’m not an expert,” Quin returned. “For all I know, the water here always reeks like things have died in it.” She pushed her lightwand through a gap in the grid, extending her arm as far as she could reach. It revealed little more than greenish-tinged brickwork and deeper shadows beyond. “Do you know where it leads?”

“No.”

“Hmm, helpful.”

A twitch of anger at her apparent rebuke spurred him into responding despite his lethargy. “A river runs under the city from west to east and then out to sea. I think all the sewers feed into it.”

“Ah.” Quin seemed to consider his words. “Well, trekking through the bowels of the city isn’t really my idea of fun, but then, neither is being a guest of the Corizi, so…”

She reached inside her belt and removed a small package concealed within, handling it as though it were made of something infinitely more fragile than glass.

“There’s going to be a lot of noise and light shortly,” she called to Keir, flinching as her voice sparked discordant echoes, “and there might some stone and metal flying around, so stay where you are.”

With delicate fingers, she peeled the wrappings off her package to reveal two flattened slivers of something like colored clay then began to knead the sections together. After a few moments, she tore the mixed clays into several small pieces, pressing them into the joints between the metalwork and masonry with nervous haste before scuttling back into the niche opposite Keir.

A long and empty silence followed.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked.

“A door.”

Keir snorted, coughing when the effort hurt his throat. “I do not think your key works.”

Quin frowned at him, seeming to consider his words, then tilted her head as if expecting to hear a different opinion elsewhere. Nothing but the odd drip of water and the faint raggedness of Keir’s breathing filled the damp silence of the dungeon.

With sudden decisiveness, Quin stepped out from the protection of the archway and returned to the grid. A sizzling noise greeted her, followed by a rapid shower of brilliant purple and red sparks that struck her full in the face. As she cried out and staggered back with her hands clutched to her eyes, Keir struggled to his feet, heart thumping as the hissing became a roar.

Instinct sent him leaping at Quin, bearing them both into the opposite archway as a huge detonation shattered the grid and most of the surrounding stonework. A cascade of red hot metal and stone shards tore at the walls and filled their niche with burning dust and debris, spattering them both. Ominous creaks and groans followed the explosion, with chunks of mortar tumbling from the ceiling as great cracks raced across the chamber.

Stunned and winded, Keir could do little more than roll aside with a groan as Quin scrambled out from under him. Agony raged through him, more immediate and overwhelming than the sensation of the foundations ripping beneath him, more terrifying than the resounding crash of falling stone. With no resistance left, he lay still and waited for the fatal crush to come.

Quin tugged at him, urging him to his feet with insistent hands he had no strength to refuse. She dragged him up then wedged herself under one arm to support him, and he submitted to her aid without protest. Sudden warmth, like a draft of strong spirits, flushed through him and stole his breath as she held him. Stumbling and swaying, they made their escape through the plummeting debris and destroyed archway into the water-logged darkness beyond. The chamber collapsed behind them.

* * * *

Quin fought to keep Keir upright as a swelling tide of filthy water chased them deeper into the cavernous passageway. He hung on her, his dead weight and her sodden robes dragging her down. The water surged around their legs, overrunning them. Behind them, walls and ceilings were still collapsing, forcing the water higher and faster until the archway fell in on itself, sending a putrid crest sweeping over them. Quin struggled as their world became one of choking water and blackness, hands clenched in Keir’s clothing to prevent him being swept away. Finally, her head broke the surface and she hauled him up with her. Swamped by the dark water–without light or knowledge for guidance and her strength spent on just keeping them both afloat–swimming was out of the question.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the tidal wave subsided into sludgy waves. Soon Quin could touch the bottom again and stood on shaky legs. She collapsed against the side wall, finding a ledge to rest on as she drew Keir out of the water. He lay against her, limp as a thing dead, but she felt the shallow heaving of his chest before he fell forward, retching.

Quin forced down her urge to gag in sympathy. The stench was overwhelming and her skin itched at the thought of what might be covering it. After a few moments he stopped, spitting the foul taste from his mouth. With a shake of his head, he tried to rise. Quin made to grab the back of his robes and help him back up, but he swatted her hand away and levered himself up next to her. For a while, neither said a word as they sat gasping in the fetid atmosphere.

Quin stared at her companion. However ironic, it seemed her first instinct about Keir had proven correct. Whatever else he might be, he had just saved her life.

“Thanks,” Quin managed at last, her breath rasping in her throat.

Keir said nothing, but his head turned toward her as if in acknowledgment. In silent agreement, both rose and followed the sluggish water as it flowed along the sewer at the same lethargic pace.

* * * *

Time lost all meaning as they trudged through the water, chilled and exhausted. Quin’s head throbbed with pain as she stumbled onwards, too numb with cold to care about their destination. Her companion seemed oblivious, laboring through the sludge without a word, as if powered by clockwork.

A pale light ahead etched out the contours of the sewer and reflected off the oily water. Quin hurried forward. A sharp turn in the passageway revealed the sewer’s outlet as its contents cascaded from the end of the slime-coated tunnel and splashed into the mire below. Hazy sunlight and a blast of cold wind greeted her. The surface underneath her feet became treacherous where time and effluent had worn it away, leaving it dangerously slick. Water pushed at her in a relentless flow. Once she’d reassured herself it was only a short drop down, she took a gamble and jumped, jarring her legs on landing. Keir seemed hesitant to follow and lost his grip as he tried to lower himself.

Water!

Despite the cold and the strong sea winds blowing inland, Quin stripped down to her underwear. The reek of the fouled water on her clothing made her want to gag, and her skin burned with it. Hades knew what harm prolonged contact might cause and since she was already wet a little more made no difference. Choosing a stretch of sea well away from the waste outlet and the swamp it had created, she plunged in and washed herself down as thoroughly as possible, shuddering at the iciness of the water. The chill of it stole the remaining sensation from her extremities and rendered her numb and breathless. She forced herself to submit to the torture as she plunged her head under the waves to soak the filth from her hair.

She surfaced with a series of painful gasps as the cold burned deep in her chest. As she turned back to the beach, Keir’s motionless figure caught her eye. She stared at him as she twisted her hair into a rough knot to squeeze the water from it, mystified by his lack of movement. Were his injuries more serious than she’d imagined? Was he ill? Whatever the reason, it seemed he needed her help.

With the worst of the stench rinsed away, she trudged back to her clothing and took her tunic from the pile. After a quick sluice in the sea, she wrung the water from it as best she could and tugged it over her head. It was scant improvement, but better than nothing.

Oh, for a hot shower.
She almost groaned with longing at the prospect.

She approached Keir, arms wrapped around her body as shivers took her. “We have to get you out of those wet clothes and cleaned off,” she told him with chattering teeth. When he didn’t respond, she stepped closer, intending to help, but he shoved her back.

“Do not touch me,” he breathed, his voice fainter than ever.

Tired and chilled to the bone, Quin’s fragile patience shattered, the rush of anger providing a faint flush of warmth. “Fine, do it yourself,” she snapped, “but if you die, I’m leaving your corpse to rot right here!”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Keir stood trembling like a beaten animal, head and shoulders bowed. If she felt weak after their ordeal, how much more had he suffered?

Despite her guilt, the harsh words seemed to have the right effect. Without further protest, he stripped off the outer layers of his robes–no more than scraps of fabric tied over each other to hide the gaps in other places–before staggering into the sea and allowing the waves to wash him clean.

Quin glanced at the pile of abandoned tatters then back at Keir with a mind full of questions. Even without the threadbare cloak, he remained covered from top to toe–not the smallest patch of skin visible–hiding himself from the world. He even wore a flap of cloth across his mouth, muffling his voice. She had no idea what he looked like, or how old he was, but nothing could disguise his skeletal condition.

Poor devil.

Quin gathered up her ruined robes and Keir’s discarded rags, rinsing them out as best she could in the seawater before laying them out to dry in the sun. She wished she could lie down with them but Keir had crawled out of the waves and knelt shivering in the shelter of the rock face that divided beach from land. Quin crouched some distance away, giving him the space he seemed to require but fearful his health would take a turn for the worse. She had no supplies with her, having hidden them in the city where she had expected to be safe–a naïve assumption that had cost her dearly.

Bereft of even the most meager of useful things, she would have to find her bearings before they made a move, especially if Keir was unfit to travel far. She had no intention of leaving him behind despite his first threat to kill her. In the end he’d saved her life by pushing her out the way when the prison ceiling collapsed. She owed him that debt if nothing else.

Intent on salvaging what she could of their filthy clothing, she nonetheless sensed his gaze on her and glanced across. From somewhere within the shadow of his hood, unseen eyes stared back and it spiked her curiosity. Why had he chosen to conceal himself, to refuse help when he so desperately needed it?

Slowly, she made her way to him. The movement of his head matched her progress across the beach, a sure sign of his suspicion.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his tone weary and bewildered, as if her companionship was beyond understanding.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“You are free of the city, of the Corizi. Why do you not leave?”

She chose to ignore the question, crouching in front of him instead. “Are you ready to go?”

Keir sagged forward, one hand touching the sand for balance as his head sank lower. “Go where?” he said, his voice so faint Quin had to lean forward to catch the words before the breeze swept them away.

“Away from here.” Quin shuffled closer, her concern deepening. Keir seemed to be sinking toward the sand, no longer able to keep himself upright. “Keir, what’s wrong?”

“What do you want of me, Quin?” he demanded. “Can I not even die in peace?”

I’ve already seen too many wasted lives…

“I don’t want you to die,” she said, the words catching in her throat at his plight.

Keir’s head lifted, as if drawn by her wish. “There is not a soul in this world who would not wish me dead.”

“Why? I don’t underst–”

Keir crumpled to the sand with a sigh. She darted forward with outstretched hands and managed to catch him.

Pain lanced through her at the contact and she gasped as his mind bled into hers. The flash of red-tinted blades. The screams of a child. Anger. Fear. Bitterness.

Oh, Hades, what the hell am I going to do with you?

* * * *

In a room atop the North Tower, an elderly lady sat in a high-backed, elaborately carved chair as if it were a throne, regal despite her advanced age. The walls of the apartment were pearly-white plaster, divided into sections and decorated with pastel scenes of colorful landscapes and elegant figures–children at play and courtiers poised in formal dance. A large marble fireplace dominated one wall, unlit during daylight hours and surmounted by a wide family portrait framed in gold. Thick, dark-red drapes swathed the large four-poster bed and bordered the three windows that trickled sunlight into the room and revealed views across the city.

The woman sat motionless in her dark-blue robes, the complicated silver knot symbol of the Corizi emblazoned on the front panel of her bodice in solid silver beads and tiny white pearls. The high collar framed a masculine jaw line and an oval face that was lined and haughty. Her long hands lay folded in her lap and she took slow, deep breaths, listening to her city speak. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of irregular footsteps and a pounding at the door.