Page 112 of By the Horns
No one did.
“We weren’t planning on going into the Everbelow, sir.” The enforcer cradles his bad arm against his chest. “What drop are we at?”
“If we’ve fallen to the bottom of Shaft Seven, then…Thirty-Seven or Forty-Seven.”
Whispers fill my mind, along with a mental image of a different area, higher up. “This isn’t the right spot.”
Rooster and the enforcer turn to look at me. “How do you know?”
I tilt my head, exasperated. Seriously? “How do you think I know?”
No one makes a sign to ward off evil, which I’m relieved to see. Instead, Rooster approaches me, holding the oil lamp aloft. “You know where we are?”
“No, but I can ask.”
“You can?” The guild leader looks dumbfounded.
I nod reluctantly. “When I’m down here…the dead whisper at me. I can’t understand them, but they send images, too. I’m able to tell from those.”
Silence falls in the tunnel.
Stating my ability aloud in front of everyone is…awful. It’s like being stripped naked in front of a crowd. I stare at their faces, the enforcers wearing a mixture of confusion and fear, and Rooster’s grim, determined expression. I hate that I can’t blend in with the crowd, but if me tearing off the mask means that I can save Raptor and his companions, I will.
I only hope this doesn’t turn into a lynch mob.
“You truly can talk to the dead,” Rooster states, as if reaffirming it. I nod.
“There are dead people here?” The enforcer sounds horrified.
“Not everyone got out of Prell alive, Smythe. Of course there are dead here,” Rooster snaps.
“But…I thought when you died you went to Romus, and he sent you through the five hells.”
“The newly dead loiter,” I say reluctantly. “Until the ten days pass and the ceremony is performed. But there are still voices down here. I think they must have something they want to share, and that’s why they linger.”
“Ghosts.” He sounds horrified.
“Not really. Just people like you and me. I haven’t felt any malice from anyone. No one’s trying to scare us. I think they just have things they want to say so they can be at peace.” I shake my head, resisting theurge to scratch at my skin as the babble of the dead washes over me. “This only started happening to me once I came into the Everbelow as a student. I think it has something to do with all the magic here. It’s only been happening for a few months, but I’ve never felt threatened. Just like…they’ve found the one person who will hear their whispers, and so they won’t be quiet.”
“Well, let them mutter at you and see if they can find out where we’re at, exactly.” Rooster’s mouth is a flat line of disapproval. “We can’t stay here forever and hope for a rescue. Not if someone’s attempting to take over the guild.”
“And not if there are ratlings nearby,” Smythe adds helpfully.
“Yes, thank you,” Rooster snaps at him. “We haven’t forgotten.”
I close my eyes, concentrating on the low hum of voices. I don’t know why there are sometimes images mixed in, but maybe it’s that some ghosts are just stronger than others.Show me, I tell them.Show me where I am.
I get a mental flash of the basket descending past one tunnel after another, and I count them. One…two…three…
“Thirty-Seven,” I say, even as ice-cold sensations wash over me. It’s the ghosts, and now that I’m paying attention to them, they’re all over me like moths drawn to a flame. “We’re at Thirty-Seven.”
“And where was Raptor’s crew?”
“Above.” My voice grows faint as more oppressive feelings sweep over me. The ghosts aren’t done talking, and I have no choice but to listen. They babble in my ears, voices frantic. Cold touches brush all over my skin.
One ghost is insistent, drowning out all the others. The voice gets louder than all the rest, and I shake my head, but it keeps pushing, shouting in that strange, unearthly babble of the dead. With it comes a flurry of images, and I realize whoever this ghost is, he’s trying to show me something. I relax…and dozens of images flash through my mind.
The room grows deathly cold. My teeth chatter. More images crash through my mind, flooding in like a surging tide. Tunnel after tunnel, some empty, some not, races through my thoughts. I see where the dead are lying, I see artifacts half-buried, I see—
