Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(45)
“It feels good to be home,” Hal announced when he turned back to me.
“I thought you said you lived in Corovja, not Orzai,” I said, confused.
“Home is where my sister is. Home for me has always been family, not place,” he replied, his expression serious.
“You don’t miss Corovja at all?” I asked. It seemed strange he could leave the city he’d grown up in with such ease.
“I don’t belong there anymore.” He turned away from me and walked on. “I don’t ever want to go back.”
Home felt so distant to me now. For a moment I let myself sink into the past, remembering the familiar walls of my cave, imagining sitting down at my table to a spring meal of warm bread rubbed with garlic, salty cheese, and fresh greens on the side. And to my surprise it was Hal I pictured there sharing it with me, smiling at me over the table and telling me about his latest adventure. A coil of nervousness tightened in my stomach. That scene would never come to be. I couldn’t let myself want it.
We continued along the main thoroughfare toward the watchtowers. Turrets of varying sizes peeked over the edge, each one manned by guards who stood still as statues, their expressions unreadable beneath solid metal helmets with ornamental plumes. Behind them, arched doorways led into the narrow towers.
He stopped at the fourth turret, one of the narrower ones built into a stone building that looked as though it was held together with little more than spit, hope, and cracking mortar. A heavy wooden door covered in peeling black paint stood closed behind a man who had both the stature and evident personality of a boulder. He scowled at us—at least until Hal made eye contact.
“Nice to see you again,” Hal said. “We’re special members. You can let us in without a token. We know the boss, and she won’t mind.”
I sensed Hal’s magic enveloping the guard, surrounding him in a soft haze.
The man’s gaze grew glassy, and he nodded, opening the door to let us pass.
“You aren’t supposed to do that. You might hurt yourself like last time!” I whispered to Hal as I slipped into the room behind him. He’d barely used his gift since we’d left Valenko, but if he overextended his abilities and left me to deal with him being unconscious again, I couldn’t count on being able to bargain with other people the way I had with the Tamers.
Predictably, Hal ignored my scolding. “Welcome to Death’s Door!” he said, gesturing expansively with a wide grin.
“It better not be,” I muttered, smiling at Hal in spite of my nerves. We entered a large room, its windows darkened with grime. Lanterns cast dim light over heavy tables of unfinished wood, polished smooth by the passage of many drinks over their surfaces. The booths were separated by thick partitions that gave each one a sense of privacy, and the hum of conversation was quieter than I would have expected given the ill-reputed look of the place. Only the minstrel in the corner looked up when we walked in, giving us a cursory glance as she tuned the strings on her instrument.
My heart started to beat more quickly, even though I didn’t know what was coming next. Hal led me to the back of the pub down a hallway lined with dark wood. At the far end, a lantern hung, casting a dim pool that barely seemed to penetrate the darkness. The moment we crossed the threshold into the hallway, it felt like a vise had closed around my lungs. Had I been human, I might have chosen to align with the wind god and manifest as a bird. I couldn’t live without the open sky.
As if he sensed my discomfort and the cold sweat about to break out on my neck, Hal subtly flicked his fingers and sent a breeze circling around my head. Then he took my hand. I closed my eyes and let him lead me blindly down the hall, imagining wide skies above me and remembering all the distance I’d covered since home. It was enough to get me to the end, even though anxiety about meeting Nismae was quickly rising.
My discomfort with the enclosed place was about to reach a fever pitch when Hal plunged his hand through the stone wall at the end of the hallway as if it weren’t even there. My eyebrows shot up. Somehow I hadn’t expected to encounter this kind of magic in Orzai, so casually used, so much a part of daily life. It hadn’t been like that in Amalska. Magic was for my tinctures, or for mortal manifests. Not for invisible walls, human convenience, or secret entrances to a city. I’d spent my life so sheltered, and it made me angry and ashamed to learn that now.
“Sometimes it’s easiest to do this backward the first time,” Hal said.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Jump.” He tugged me through the stone wall. Magic tingled over my skin as we passed through, raising goose bumps on my arms. Someone must have enchanted the wall, perhaps one of the earth god’s children. The king wouldn’t waste his time installing secret doors in alehouses.
We stood at the edge of a tiny platform barely wide enough for the two of us. Below us, darkness gaped like an open mouth. I couldn’t see the bottom of the shaft.
Hal tugged a bell cord hanging beside the platform, and a chime rang through the tower. A few moments later, the sound echoed from below.
“The way is clear,” he said, and gestured for us to move forward. “There’s a net below. I recommend pulling your knees to your chest. It’s most comfortable to land on your back.”
Even though my hands still trembled a little, it wasn’t the height that frightened me, but the closed-in space. The whole room smelled musty and dank. I needed some fresh air.