Her heart softened towards Dualayn for a moment. She recoiled at that. She hardened her emotions against him, reminding herself why she was here. She had obsidian in her head. Foul and dark. Who knew what effect it would have on her in the future? He had mutilated her for his own knowledge.
She marched ahead at a brisk pace, ignoring the dogs.
Her footsteps stomped along, dust bursting around her boots. She licked dry lips, wanting to stop and drink from the aquifer she had stored in her bag, but refused to stop now. She wanted to find the Hall of Communication and get as far from Dualayn as she could.
I was like your daughter!
Below, a large crash boomed.
She froze. Miguil groaned. She peered down at the floor as a loud thudding sound echoed again. The skin down her back crawled, like a thousand baby spiders scurried up and down her flesh. Her heart tightened as she listened.
“Wot was that?” Bran asked.
“Somethin’ shifted?” suggested Fingers. “We disturbing things?”
“But comin’ from below?” Miguil asked.
“I don’t know,” Avena said. She peered ahead. “Is that an opening? It’s darker than what’s around it.”
“Let’s find out,” Fingers said, his voice tight. “I don’t like this. We shouldn’t be here.”
Avena nodded her agreement and pressed on.
The booming sound didn’t return as they crossed to the darkness. It led to a stairwell that had collapsed, rubble choking the stairs. Water dripped through it, oozed along the floor as a small rivulet, and vanished into a crack in the floor. A sign was set in the wall written in Old Tonal. She wiped at it with a handkerchief, smearing away the dirt.
“Wot’s it say?” Bran asked, staring at her.
“I don’t read Old Tonal,” she said. “But I memorized some of the place names. Let me see. It’s hard to decipher.”
She held her lantern light closer and buffed the sign again.
“This leads to the library, I think.” She looked up. “We’re back where we started, only lower in elevation.”
Fingers grunted and spat. “Figures.” He popped his knuckles. “Well, least we know this is the wrong direction to be headin’ in. Don’t think we wanna be poppin’ out behind the library.”
“Didn’t see much choice,” Avena said, her stomach sinking. “It’s huge. Maybe there are better places it comes out.”
Fingers shrugged. “Let’s keep movin’.”
“Just . . . I need to drink,” Miguil said. He unslung his pack and began digging around.
Avena’s stomach rumbled. Her throat burned. Sighing, she surrendered to her needs. She pulled out her aquifer, a small sapphire set in a wooden handle. There was a leather-wrapped button sticking out a hole carved in the side. She brought it to her mouth and pressed it.
A cool stream of water gushed out. A gem this small would produce enough water a day to keep her alive. She savored the liquid as she gulped it down. The wet flowed down to her stomach. A refreshing chill washed through her for a moment. She let some spill over her face, crossing the dust coating her sweat-damped features.
Drinking the water reminded her of another biological necessity. She looked at the alcove then at the three men. “Could you give me some privacy?”
“Why?” Bran asked.
“She’s got to piss and don’t want you watchin’,” said Fingers, hooking his arm around the younger guard and pulling him along. “Let’s go see if we can’t get them dogs to bite your ankle.”
“Wot?” Bran gasped.
Miguil put away his aquifer and nodded to her.
She passed her water quickly. When she emerged, she grimaced to see fresh, steaming puddles soaking into the dust just around the corner; the men hadn’t gone far to relieve themselves.
She found them clustered around one of the carriages. The metal body in the front was missing, exposing a mass of rusting metal congealing together. Fingers rubbed his hand over the central mechanism, a ruby and an emerald fused together into a jewelchine the size of a horse’s heart. The corroded ends of wires stretched out of it in a dozen directions.
“No wonder there’s no place for a horse to hitch up,” Miguil said in awe. “Machines that drive themselves.”
“How did they get the wires inside the jewelchine?” Fingers muttered. “I don’t get that.”
“They grew them,” she said, staring in fascination. “Dualayn is studying the Recorder to learn that secret.”
Miguil shook his head. “Did everyone in Koilon own one of these? Were they all rich?”
Avena gave a hopeless shrug.
“You can see some of the mechanism,” Miguil said, lowering his lantern into the compartment. “See, down there, that box has rods leadin’ off to the wheels. They must work like gears in a watermill. You have to use them to change the speed the mill rotates compared to the flow of the river.”
“You know about waterwheels?” Avena asked.
“My father owned one. He had to sell it when I was young.”
“Oh, I never knew that.” Heat rushed through Avena’s cheeks. They’d once been promised before she’d learned what Miguil truly craved in a partner. As a woman, she could never fill that desire. Still, she should have known more about his past.
Miguil shrugged like it didn’t matter.
She opened her mouth to ask more when the thud of heavy footsteps echoed through the carriage house. She turned towards Ōbhin’s light. She was surprised by how far away it was. The footsteps sounded so close.
“Strange how sound echoes in here,” Fingers muttered. He popped his knuckles by clenching his fist. “I’d swear those are close.”
“Yeah,” Avena said, her fingertips growing fuzzy. “Ōbhin?” Her voice echoed through the carriage house. “Ōbhin!”
The footsteps thudded closer. She bit her lower lip, frozen for a moment, then she rushed from the wall towards Ōbhin. Those footsteps were too heavy to be any human
