Page 133 of The City of Zirdai
“Do you know if…” She was afraid to ask about Rendor. Because right now she had hope he lived. If she found out otherwise… No. She was not going to imagine a world without Rendor. “How many people were locked up?”
“I don’t know who survived. After the explosions, I stumbled from my room and found a couple injured guards and got to work. When the deacons showed up, they dragged me away from my patients and presumably rounded everyone up.”
“Are the black cells intact?”
“I’ve heard there was some damage and deaths. The priestess was very upset to discover Yates had been incarcerated. Now we know why.” He shook his head. “Hard to believe that woman had a child. Yates has been working for the prince a long time. She must have had all this planned out before then.”
It made sense for the priestess to have spies in the prince’s organization. And he probably had people in hers. No organization was safe from traitors. With that thought, Shyla eyed Timin. “Why didn’t the priestess lock you up?” she asked him.
“She wanted me close to harvest your eyes when they found your body. She was livid that you were blown up.”
He told the truth.
Timin peered at her with curiosity. “Howdidyou survive?”
“I’m sun-kissed. The goddess looks out for me.”
“Uh-huh.” Timin failed to appear convinced of the divine intervention.
Before she could explain what happened, Jaft and the others returned.
“We got them all,” Jaft reported. “This level is secure.”
“Good job.” Shyla called for Mojag.
The boy raced over to her. “Yes?”
“Go to Orla’s and get her grandson, Ilan, and his rats.”
“His rats?” Confusion creased his face.
“Yes. We need them for a very important game of hide and seek.”
“Oh! Got it.” He dashed away.
“Now let’s go free our people.” Shyla rounded up a few guards to carry Yates to the black cells. “Timin, Gurice, Jaft, and Zhek, you’re with us.”
Timin brought his bag.
Zhek tutted at him. “I’min charge of the injured. You may assistme.”
The physician didn’t react. Probably too tired to argue.
Each member of the group grabbed a trol lantern as they crossed through the various grottos. Cracked tiles now decorated the big spaces. The water fountains either dribbled water, sprayed it, or were completely broken. A number of the stone benches had fragmented into pieces.
They soon descended to level ninety-eight. Half-collapsed walls and a thick layer of grit covered the stone tables that the guards used while on duty. Many of the druks had shattered, but a number glowed with a purple light. However, the trol light they’d brought along was bright enough to show the dried bloodstains, green mold, and black grime that had built up over the circuits.
Shyla’s eyes stung with the sharp odor of urine mixed with feces—all part of the punishment.
“It reeks in here,” Gurice said, covering her nose.
The deacons who had been guarding the prisoners lay unconscious on the ground. Two of her guards watched over them.
One of them pointed to a pile of rubble on the right. “That wing contained the prince’s special rooms and was crushed during the attack. It’s underneath our quarters, which collapsed. None of the guards survived.” He clenched his fists as anger and sorrow shone in his eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” She’d hoped for better news. Then she remembered that the freed prisoners had been recovering in the guards’ quarters. She met Gurice’s gaze.
Gurice understood her silent question and pressed her lips together, shaking her head sadly. Grief twisted around her stomach and squeezed.
