Page 39 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“Try anything and your man dies,” Shyla said to the others.
They backed off, proving they had no experience with fighting. At this angle she didn’t have the strength to break his neck, and they had plenty of time to rush her before he died from strangulation. Killing a person was no easy task. It took both physical effort and mental vigor. Not that she had any experience, but these people didn’t need to know that.
Assessing the situation, she glanced around. Everyone in the cavern now stood, but they appeared afraid to move. The guards formed a protective semi-circle in front of their leader, but the old man pushed past them in disgust.
“Let’s try this again,” she said. “Do you have any useful information for me?”
“A man from another commune mentioned a black river that flows under Zirdai,” he said. “I thought he was crazy, but I’ve heard it a few other times.” He gave her a humorless grin.
Basically, the black river was a legend. Wonderful. “Where is this other commune?”
“On level thirty-nine.”
“Can you be more specific?”
When the man didn’t answer, she pinched her prisoner’s ear hard enough to make him cry out with pain.
“Out past the main ventilation shafts.” The words tumbled from his mouth in a rush. “There’s a maze of abandoned tunnels. They’re in there.”
“And the name of this man?”
“Vencel.”
“Thank you.” She released the youth, pushing him toward the others. They caught their friend, but remained in place. Shyla removed three osees—more than enough compensation—and tossed them at the old man. He snatched them from the air despite his surprise.
“Next time, let’s skip the…niceties and just stick to business,” she said.
“There won’t be a next time, Sun-kissed. Don’t come back.”
That shouldn’t be a problem. Just in case they decided to attack her again, Shyla walked backward until the light from the cavern was a pinpoint. When no drumming footsteps chased after her, she faced forward.
Shyla mulled over the information she’d received until the putrid stench of offal hit her. This time she covered her nose and mouth and sprinted through the noxious fumes. After she was well away, she slowed as she considered her next move.
The old man might have given her false information. Or he might send a message to his friend, warning him, which would probably lead to a real ambush. Too many mights and probablys, but it was the only direction she had.
Once she crossed to the east side of level sixteen, she found an isolated tunnel to take a break. Sitting on the floor of an alcove, she gnawed on a stick of jerky as she examined her map of Zirdai. The map lacked even the basic details after level eighty, which made sense. The wealthy wouldn’t want the ordinary citizens to know where they ate, slept, and kept their treasures.
The most valuable thing down there was the water. It flowed in underground rivers or pooled in deep aquifers. New cities were dug until they reached water, then that level became the residence of the person in charge. The Water Prince, in this city. And he used his proximity to so much water for decoration and piped it through his rooms. Would one of those pipes hold water from the black river? And was she brave enough to ask the Water Prince? Probably not.
Instead, she plotted a course to the commune on level thirty-nine until her vision blurred. Fatigue spread through her body. Were her arms always this heavy? It’d been over a sun jump since she last slept. She leaned back against the wall. No time to sleep, but…maybe… she could rest…just close her eyes for a moment.
Her thoughts drifted, then snagged on Rendor. Was he having better luck? What if his guards tracked one of Banqui’s diggers to The Eyes? And here she was chasing a legend. What if he learned nothing? Then he’d— She straightened, wide awake. He might be searching for her. Probably worried. Or angry. Most likely both. And the longer she was missing, the harder it would be to explain it to him. Best to get this mission over with as quickly as possible.
Folding the map, she returned it to her pack. She stood, wiped the sand from her pants and followed her planned route. Or rather, she tried. Within fifteen angles, it became obvious that the map she’d bought was not as accurate as the seller proclaimed.
By the time she hit her fifth dead end on level thirty- two, her head pounded and weakness trembled in her legs. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed to sleep or she’d be useless. At least the dead end protected her back. And at the bottom of her pack was a roll of dried-out gamelu skin. She spread it on the floor about three meters down the tunnel. Not a pretty decoration, but its beauty lay in its ability to snap very loud when trod on. The noise should wake her in time to defend herself.
Closing the druk lantern blocked the reddish tinted light and plunged her into darkness. She stretched out on the cold hard ground, using her pack as a pillow. The fact that she’d slept on the floor twice in as many sun jumps didn’t go unnoticed, but she was too tired to care.
* * *
Nothing disturbed her and she woke feeling…better. Not refreshed and energetic, but she suspected she’d need a full darkness of sleep to achieve that state of energy. She abandoned her planned route and risked traveling through populated areas. Plus she needed to use the collection station. While there, she freshened up, rubbing the quick-drying cleanser over her body and on her scalp. Shyla twisted her hair into a knot—she probably should just cut it short to make it easier to hide. Arranging her wrap, she covered the knot and pulled the material out to keep her face in shadow. Once satisfied, she continued her journey.
The public sand clock read angle one-eight-five, just five angles into the time of darkness. She had about sixty angles before most people went to sleep. It should be plenty.
Soon the tint of the druk light turned from red to green as she descended past level thirty-six. Three levels later, she stood at the edge of a hole. Cold moist air rushed upward, ruffling her tunic. When the old man had said it was past the ventilation shaft, she’d thought he meant a tunnel like the one she found on level twenty-six. Not a vertical hole.
She shone the druk light inside the shaft and peered up. No bridges or ladders or anything crossed the shaft. At least not in the five or six levels that the light reached. Same thing below. Nothing.
