Page 41 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“No to both,” she said. “I’m just looking for information.”
“There’s nothingjustabout you,” the bearded man said. “I’m sure the damage has been done. This is out of our depth. We need to take her to Orla.”
Progress.
“Follow me,” the man said, turning around.
The woman shot her a glare and the young man waited until Shyla passed him before falling into step behind her. They traveled through a number of tunnels and backtracked through a few of them. Probably trying to get Shyla lost. And she briefly wondered if they planned to abandon her, hoping she’d die before finding her way out. Not a comforting thought. Although if they left her a druk, she had a good chance of retracing their steps.
Even though they took a longer route, Shyla spotted a bright glow of many lanterns—more than necessary, or so she thought until they reached the sprawling cavern. Unlike the ad hoc encampment on level sixteen, this place had cushions, furniture, and doorways with curtains. Ladders reached upper tiers. And it smelled of incense and cleanser.
Before she could gawk too much, the young man pushed her into one of the curtained rooms. It was bigger than her room on level three. A bench had been carved into three of the walls and a stone table occupied the center.
“Sit down.” He stood in the threshold with his knives still in hand.
Shyla sat near the back. If this didn’t go well, she could hop on the table and fight her way out. Not long after, an older woman and two men arrived. One was the bearded man from before. They sat across from her with the woman in the center.
The woman studied Shyla. Gray hair streaked her black locks, matching her gray eyes. “I’m Orla, the leader of this establishment.” She tipped her head to the bearded man. “This is Adair and he’s Vencel.”
Ah good. That would save her some time. “I’m Shyla.”
“Please explain to me how you found us and why.” Orla’s request sounded more like an order.
She swallowed her annoyance at the delay and repeated her story. Orla scowled at Vencel when Shyla mentioned his comment to the older man on level sixteen. He ducked his head.
After a moment of silence, Orla said, “I see. So all you want is the location of the black river and you’ll be on your merry way?”
Finally. “Yes.”
“And how can we trust you not to reveal our settlement to the Water Prince’s guards?”
“I understand that you’re not part of Zirdai, neither am I. I don’t care that you don’t pay taxes or attend services. I’ve no desire to report you to the guards. Hell, I’ll probably be in your same situation after all this is over.” If she survived, it was doubtful anyone would hire her.
“Why do you want to find the black river?” she asked.
“I don’t. But the monks sent me to get a vial of water from it.”
Orla perked up. “The monks. Why didn’t you say so before?”
“I didn’t think it relevant.”
Before Orla could respond a woman poked her head into the room. “Come quick, Mori’s been beaten and left for dead.”
All three stood at once and hustled out along with her guard. Curious, Shyla followed them in time to see two men lower a woman onto a table. Blood stained her torn clothes and her arms and legs twisted in unnatural angles. Bruises covered the woman’s face. One large lump stood out on her temple. Shyla understood why she was left for dead. Being unconscious was the only positive thing for the poor woman.
Orla shouted orders and people scrambled for supplies. They straightened her limbs and splinted them, then tended her wounds. But they could do nothing about her head injury or any internal bleeding.
Forgotten, Shyla wandered around the commune. Scattered about in no semblance of order were common areas, private rooms and evidence of work projects. She recognized the velbloud-hair head scarves that sold in the merchants’ market on level twenty-six. Did that mean they had the coin for taxes, but didn’t pay them? Why would they do that?
Most of the residents hovered near the victim, but others remained. A few stared at her. Would she be welcomed here if she ran out of coin? Probably not. She’d return to the monastery, but knew it would never be the same. Never be home again. Neither would this place or Zirdai. No. Her chance to find a new home in another city was gone along with The Eyes.
Orla found her sitting in one of the common areas, idly fixing a broken puzzle box—a child’s toy left behind. Probably when the evil sun-kissed showed up at their home and the adults told all the kids to hide. Yes, she was being dramatic, but no one had come within six meters of her and there wasn’t a child in sight.
“How’s the woman?” Shyla asked Orla.
“Time will tell.” The leader slumped into a cushion.
“Why was she beaten?”
