All I can do is stare, search my surroundings for some way out, which of course there isn’t. We’re underground.
He shrugs, hands up as if he’s showing me he’s not carrying any weapons. “I know you must be shocked.” I keep staring. “You’re probably afraid.” He then moves to the center of the cavern where a long rope hangs like a noose. My hands instantly go to my neck, but he simply pulls it, releasing what I assume is a door far above that closes and latches.
Slowly, cautiously, he approaches me. “I’m not quite sure what to say here … This isn’t exactly how I planned for you to find out.”
I’m shaking my head, straining my eyes to see through the darkness, waiting for an explanation. “But…?” I urge, my voice quaking.
“It’s a shock, I know.”
I nod, jaw slack.
He holds the lantern up between us. “I know I’ve got a lot to answer for—and I will—but it’s most important you understand that I will not hurt you.”
Isn’t that exactly what someone who doesn’t want me to know they’re going to hurt me says? Question after question fills my head, but there’s a horrible crash right above us.
“We need to go.”
“But … Wait … I don’t understand. What the Sun is going on?”
“How about you interrogate me as we move? That smoke isn’t going to hold them off very long. Deal?”
Before I can comment, he’s rushing forward, down a slight decline, but enough of one that I keep one hand flat against the wall next to me for balance.
I follow Dorian through the black tunnel as he continues on about the explosive. “The blue smoke is a mix of black pepper, sulfur, and crushed graphite, pressure packed so when it’s lit and hits a hard surface, it explodes. It’s impressive, but clears quickly.”
We make our way around numerous crooks and turns, up then down rough slopes.
Finally, I spit out the loudest question ringing in my mind. “Who are you?”
“Did you hit your head on the way down? I thought it was obvious.” He glances back at me, and even through the darkness, I can see humor mixed with concern in his expression. Did I hit my head? Is this a nightmare?
Sun, I hope so.
“Do you find this funny?” I ask.
“No.” He wipes the almost-smile off his face. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny. Not at all. It’s just … I was only doing a tunnel check and there you were. I’m not sure which one of us was more surprised.”
“Me. I was more surprised. I’m still…” My heart raps like a drum in my ears. “… How can this be? You’re the glassmaker’s apprentice … Basso … How can you also be a member of the Night?” He’s a traitor. And a liar.
The terrain changes from dirt-caked walls to rusty, crumbly rock and then to yellowed stone. The lower we decline, the thicker and damper the air gets, the richer the scents of sour minerals and salt. Everything is sulfur down here.
“Who says I can’t be both?”
“Everyone. The laws of nature. Every story about the Night I’ve ever heard.”
He laughs.
I clutch his hand, forcing him to skid to a halt, bumping right into him in the process. Dorian turns and faces me. “Look, you’re right. This is serious.” Holding the lantern over his shoulder, he searches my face, almost as if he’s testing if he can trust me.
Him. Worried about trusting me.
“So…?” I ask, waiting for an answer.
“What if I told you I can be both Basso and Night soldier?”
I shake my head.
“Veda.” He leans down to meet my eyes. “It’s true. It’s not the Night who’s kidnapping Basso or burning down their homes.”
“You’re mad.”
He narrows his gaze. “I’m definitely not mad.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then prove it.”
“Follow me.” Dorian turns and continues walking.
“Why should I? How do I know you’re not lying just to capture me? Enslave me. Gnaw my toes off. You know the stories.”
Again, he turns to face me. Lantern held out in front of him, expression shadowed, morphing from calm to creepy to distorted. “You probably shouldn’t trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me. But it doesn’t seem you’ve got much of a choice.” He glances back from where we came. The tunnel with the soldiers in it.
At this point, I’m not sure which is worse: following Dorian into the belly of the beast or clawing my way back up to Bellona and into the hands of the Imperi for definite punishment.
I stare across the darkness at Dorian.
And I nudge my head forward. “Let’s go.”
* * *
WE HIT A door that’s been pieced together with scraps of metal, a padlock keeping it closed. Dorian unlocks it with a key from a ring hooked to his belt. We go through and he replaces the same lock on the other side of the door.
“One way?” I ask, taking in his clothing for the first time. He’s wearing all black, a military-style patch sewn over his chest. It’s small, nothing but a row of colored stripes as if marking rank, maybe missions. In addition, a crudely hammered silver pin—a crescent moon—is stuck to his collar.
“Only one way,” Dorian confirms, catching my eyes on his uniform.
“That’s comforting and … not.” We continue walking. I take note of his keys, which are hooked to his pants on one of the left belt loops closest to me. If he didn’t expect it, I could easily clutch hold of them and tear them off.
“It’s to keep others out, not to keep you in. If another member of the Night goes down the same den, they’ll know an alternative way to get to the Lower. Anyone else makes it that far? Well, they’ll be stuck there until eventually found.”
I stifle a shiver.
But it isn’t until we go through another, similarly patchworked door, that fear truly seizes me.
On the other side, we’re greeted by a group of Night soldiers. Twenty or so. All in black. Hoods over their heads. Lanterns scattered about the crowd, giving each of them the deep eye sockets and sunken faces of skeletons.
I grip the arm of Dorian’s jacket and then quickly let go. I reach to clutch his keys, but he’s already turned away. There’s no way I can get to them without causing a scene, and I’m outnumbered exponentially.
Backing up, I take short, calculated steps until I’m flat against the cold, metal door.
He’s one of them.
Keys or no keys, before I can make a break for it, try to kick the rickety lock off the rusted door and happily bolt into the open arms of a couple of Imperi soldiers, the Night rushes toward us.
I cover my head with my fists, huddling into the door, but soon realize I’m not being torn limb by limb. My toes are definitely still attached to my feet. Instead, whoops and shouts of “Welcome home!” and “Dorian!” fill the small cavern and echo off the walls.
Daring to open my eyes, I find all manner of hugging and tackling and scuffing of Dorian at the hands of the Night. He’s laughing so hard, tears stream down his face. “All right … All right … I missed you too…”