Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(46)
“There’s a way out at the bottom?” I asked.
Hal nodded. “A short ladder and a tunnel into the alley. Do you want me to go first?”
“I’m not afraid of heights,” I said, then pulled my cloak tightly around myself and stepped off the edge.
CHAPTER 18
“ASRA!” HAL’S VOICE TRAILED OFF AS I DROPPED LIKE A stone. Though the fall was longer than I expected, the light at the bottom of the tunnel came up in a rush. I hit the net less than just a few heartbeats later, then sprang up, gasping for breath. As I grabbed the ladder leading up to a narrow door, the chime sounded from the top of the tower again, and then the ground-level one echoed close by to signal that the way was clear.
Hal flew down behind me, using a gust of upswept air to soften his fall. He grinned at me when he stood.
“Sometimes you take me by surprise,” he said. I could barely make out his eyes in the dim light cast by a single gas lamp near the exit, but I could see the admiration in them.
“I wouldn’t want you to get bored,” I quipped.
He laughed, and the sound warmed me a little. Thankfully, the tunnel to the outside was short, and moments later I pushed through a swinging door to emerge in an alley. Fog swirled through the streets, limiting visibility to only the adjacent buildings. With how bad it was during the day, I wondered how anyone could navigate the city at night, when the light of even the brightest lamp would be dampened by the thick fog.
I dropped into my Sight. The life energy of the molds and mosses that grew in every crevice of the stone towers provided a dim outline of all that surrounded us. The buildings closest to us were so tall I couldn’t see the tops—they had been carved directly into the face of the cliff. Everything was made of stone save the doors and shutters.
“Be careful—the cobblestones are slippery. Do you need my hand?” Hal asked.
“No, that’s all right,” I replied, ignoring my desire to accept anyway. Soon he’d be reunited with his sister and I would have to continue on to Atheon. The sooner I could accustom myself to doing without him, the better. I could get by just fine alone.
“All right.” He turned away too quickly for me to catch his expression, but I might have heard a trace of disappointment in his voice—that or the fog was playing tricks on my ears as well as my eyes.
I followed Hal through the sloping streets, the mist swirling around us in ever-changing shapes. Most of the buildings were connected to one another, forming solid walls of stone on either side of us in a variety of heights and widths. Many walkways dropped off into staircases or ramps. The absence of any trees made it feel as though we’d entered a castle the size of a city, and the other street traffic felt strangely distant, shrouded in the fog, even as we passed shoulder to shoulder or a cart rattled slowly by.
Finally, we entered a narrow alley beside a cobbler’s shop. Water dripped down the brick buildings on either side, gathering to form a rivulet that trickled through the center of the alley. Halfway down the dead end, a door stood in the stone side of the building. It had no handle, only a keyhole. Both the door and the side of the building were devoid of any markings or decorations, anything that might give an indication of what the place was. Hal put his ear to the lock, and I recognized the serene expression that came over his face when he used his Farhearing.
“They’re here!” he said, his face breaking into the grin that had become so familiar and so warming throughout our travels. A pang of some confused emotion stirred in my breast. Somehow during our journey I had come to enjoy being the cause of that grin, and it was strange to see it painted on his face by others.
“How do we get in?” I asked.
“Like this.” He grabbed a pebble off the ground and dropped it into a tiny hole near the door. A few breaths later, a click sounded and the door swung open.
“Come on,” he said, and vanished into the stairwell.
I took a deep breath and plunged in after him.
Thankfully, the door led up another stone staircase instead of farther down into the earth. At the top of the third flight, we went through a creaky wooden door into an octagonal turret with a ceiling that arched to a high peak in the center. Muted conversations hummed from somewhere nearby. Windows of leaded glass in lacy patterns sparkled like gems in the light of an enormous chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. The fixture seemed ordinary enough until I realized it was composed of several dozen glass orbs in varying sizes that burned with bright light in spite of being self-contained. In my Sight, the orbs shimmered almost as brightly as Hal, and seemed to be drawing energy from some low place in the earth that I couldn’t fully see or sense.
“What is that?” I asked, staring in wonder at the chandelier.
“A prize of the crown—a magical artifact created by one of the former monarchs using the gift of the gods’ magic,” Hal said.
“How did it get here?” I never would have guessed I’d see a prize of the crown anywhere outside Corovja. Miriel had told me pieces like the chandelier were often presented to the revelers at midsummer and midwinter festivals in Corovja as a reminder of the monarch’s power and abilities—some decorative and others deadly.
“The west wing of the palace in Corovja was redone about five years ago. One of the Swifts was able to rescue this piece for Nis before the entire wing was demolished. The lights weren’t working, but her research allowed us to restore it.”