The Stars Are Legion(43)

“How do you know about that?”

“Engineers know things.

I lean into her. “You know who I am, then?”

Casamir cocks her head. “No. You’ve not got a common face.”

“Are most faces common?”

“Oh, certainly.” Something roars in the distance. Casamir points at the tendril. “I suggest we have this conversation on the next level.”

“We can’t leave,” Das Muni says, coming up behind me.

“Of course you can,” Casamir says. “You just have to want to.”

“Who’s up there?” I ask. “How many people?”

“Just me,” Casamir says. “I suspect if you were going to eat me, you’d have done it by now, so I have no reason to lie about some horde of friends. I don’t expect to find much alive down here but the monsters, and”—she glances at Das Muni—“the folks that want to stay.”

“I need to get up there,” I say.

“You hardly look fit for it.”

“Then we improvise.”

“We?”

“We,” I say. “You know the Bhavajas are up there. They’re taking over the world.”

“The who?

“Bhavajas,” I say. “They are usurping the Katazyrnas.”

Casamir shrugs. “Sorry.”

“How can you not care? They’re the people who rule the world.”

“Not this part of it,” Casamir says. She sighs. “I’ve met a few people from above Arokisa, sure. Explorers, mostly. I never much cared for them.”

“We need to get up there,” I say. “Past all those levels. To the surface.”

“Surface?” Casamir raises her brows. “Surface of what?”

“The world,” I say.

She covers her mouth, as if she’s going to laugh. Then sobers. “I’ll take you up to Arokisa, at least, on one condition,” Casamir says. “Or perhaps two. Well, one for now; maybe if I think on it, I’ll find—”

I snatch her by the throat with my good hand. Casamir is a short, thick woman but lighter than she first seems. “How about no conditions,” I say.

“Sure, sure, sure,” Casamir gasps, kicking her legs.

I drop her. “You go first,” I say. “I’ll follow.”

Casamir lunges for the rope. I grab her collar and pull her back. “We stick close,” I say. I untangle the rope I was using as a belt and knot my wrist to Casamir’s, leaving enough slack to ensure we can climb up together.

“This really isn’t necessary,” Casamir says.

“I’ll release it when we get up,” I say.

Das Muni is puttering around me, humming softly. “I can’t get up,” she says.

I haven’t considered that part until now, and I feel some guilt about that. Of course she can’t get up, not with how weak she is; not on those little legs, with her crooked back and clawed hands.

“We’ll pull you up after,” I say.

She ceases her puttering and gazes up at me with big glassy eyes. I have to look away. She doesn’t believe I’ll take her with me. She thinks I’ll leave her here.

As Casamir grabs hold of the rope, I glance back once at little wretched Das Muni and think about how much easier it will be to go on without her. Casamir is stronger and clearly knows the surface. Das Muni isn’t even from this world.

I crawl up after Casamir. The rope is slicker than I anticipated, and I’m not as fit as I imagined. I move painfully, slowly. Casamir has to pause and wait for me. The line between us is stretched taut.

Finally, Casamir takes hold of the lip of the seam in the sky above us and pulls herself over. I get up one more knot, and then my strength gives out. I’m an arm’s length from the top. I cling hard to the knotted rope, arms shaking. I take deep breaths, willing my strength to return.

Casamir peers over the top. Her gaze goes from her wrist to mine and the long thread that binds us. If I fall, she will too. She touches the knot at her wrist. I grit my teeth. She’ll untie it, and I’ll be stuck here, too weak to ascend. I worried she would pull the rope up after her if we weren’t bound on the way up, but of course that would mean nothing once we made it to the top. She can cut the line and run off now.

I meet her look and firm my jaw to still my trembling face. My whole body is shaking now. I have an animal fear of showing weakness. But I am weak, and she sees it.

Then she reaches down, and I brace for her to cut the rope or untie us, but she grabs my wrist instead.

“Up, now,” she says, and she grins. There’s a halo of flickering light above her, whiter light than that below, and I love her a little in that moment, the coy grin, the strong arm, the short, messy sweep of hair brushed back from her forehead, the easy decision to offer a hand instead of cut it off.

I let out my breath and grip her wrist with my bad hand and squeeze. She pulls while I push on the knot below me.

I slide up over the lip of the jagged rent in the floor and try to catch my breath. Casamir slumps beside me. Grins again. I can see the whites of her eyes in the dim glow. For a moment, I think the room is lined in something bioluminescent, like the recycling pit below us, but the lights are moving, flitting along the walls. They are a flying creature of some kind.