She used four druks to hold the edges down. The extra light also helped to illuminate the faded ink. Tracing the tunnel the grave diggers used to escape the crypt, she found an entry point into the temple then calculated just how much sand would have built up over thousands of circuits—approximately six or seven meters. The air would be stale, perhaps even toxic or explosive or both. And there was always the danger of a cave-in. And booby traps.
Groaning, she rubbed her face. This was not her area of expertise. She needed Banqui. Not knowing where he was or if he even was alive dragged on her. He could be confined in one of the priestess’s chapels or in one of the prince’s black cells on level ninety-eight, waiting for her to rescue him again. Or he could be hanging upside down in one of the prince’s special rooms that were on the same level as the cells. That possibility gave her nightmares.
Too tired to think anymore, Shyla rolled up the map and crawled under a fur in what she was beginning to consider her room.
She woke before angle zero determined to find Rendor. They would have another conversation. Although she knew he wouldn’t be at his parents’, her curiosity wouldn’t let her not check out where they lived. Using the power of The Eyes, she tricked a guard into pointing out their suite of rooms on level eighty-four.
Once again she waited in a shadow like a creepy stalker. The double-wide stained-glass doors showed an idyllic and ancient scene of water flowing through a garden. Trol lanterns hung to each side. An expensive hand-woven rug beckoned visitors.
At around angle ten, a man exited the suite. Shyla had to clamp her hand over her mouth—his resemblance to Rendor was uncanny. A few centimeters shorter than Rendor, Hastin had equally broad shoulders, but he wasn’t as muscular. Not as dark-skinned either, but with the same color hair and eyes. Hastin’s powerful and confident stride carried him right past her hiding spot. He didn’t pause or acknowledge her. Obviously she was far beneath his notice.
Shyla waited some more, but Rendor’s parents remained inside. When she left the area, she sensed Rendor but was unable to locate him. Again. Then she spent the rest of the sun jump searching for him. Hanif hadn’t called her stubborn for no reason.
But she couldn’t find him. Admitting defeat hurt deep inside her. She returned to the commune near angle one eighty. Jayden and Mojag had also come back. They exchanged information.
“The Heliacal Priestess is buying every bit of platinum she can,” Jayden said. “We’ve estimated that she bought enough for another twenty torques, which means she has about two dozen.”
“Not good,” she said.
“It gets worse,” Mojag said. “There’s a rumor that she sent a couple of her Arch Deacons to Catronia to purchase more.”
Catronia was ten sun jumps away. “Do you know how long ago?”
Mojag shrugged. “The gossip is still warm.”
Warm? She glanced at Jayden.
“Two maybe three sun jumps at most,” Jayden translated. “We have some time to experiment with the ones we have and hopefully figure out a counter strategy before the priestess makes more.”
“All right, we’ll leave at angle zero. What about the baby’s mother? Any news?”
“Not a squeak,” Mojag said. “We’ve the network on the lookout.”
The vagrant network had come in handy a number of times and had found Aphra. “Can you ask the network to keep an eye out for Rendor?”
Mojag shot Jayden a look but then ducked his head. “Sure thing.”
Mojag was a lousy liar. Did he not remember she could read his emotions? What had Jayden told him about Rendor? Sick to her stomach, she left them and found Orla sitting in her favorite nook. Shyla joined her and asked the woman to have her people look for Rendor.
“Do we have to worry about him giving us trouble?” Orla asked.
“No. But I don’t know how he’s going to find food, or what he plans to do. If you see him or find out where he’s living, can you please let me know.”
“All right.” Orla paused. “Can I let you know when I see other things?”
Not sure where Orla was going with this, she said, “Of course. Do you have some information for me?”
“The deacons who are stationed at the chapel on level fifty-one are especially cruel. They recently rounded up a number of people for ‘lack of proper devotion’ and are rehabilitating them. I’m afraid some of the younger ones aren’t going to survive.”
Shyla shot to her feet. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“I’ve been debating whether the backlash is worth it,” Orla said calmly.
“The backlash?”
“Yes. If you go in there and rescue those people, the deacons will retaliate. And I can guarantee you it will be worse.”
“Oh no, I’ll ensure there’s no backlash,” Shyla said.
“You can do that?”
Shyla had no idea. “I’m going to try.”
Nine
“Tell me again what we’re doing here?” Jayden asked for the fourth time.
“We’re going to rescue the people being tortured inside that chapel,” she whispered with annoyance. Granted, she’d woken him up and yanked him from his cushion, but still…
They crouched in a shadow on level fifty-one, watching the chapel. It was angle three hundred. Two deacons stood guard outside. Since no one dared to attack a chapel, they were more for show. However, the deacons were quite capable of defending themselves. Plus they all carried knives.
The rest of her team waited in a nearby tunnel. Orla had recruited a number of vagrants to aid Shyla. They all could fight, but their main job was to free the victims and take them to the commune for medical care. Shyla and Jayden would tackle the deacons.
“What about Arch Deacons?” Jayden asked. “Any inside?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“What about torques? Do they have any?”
“Don’t know.”
Jayden closed his eyes a moment. “Your plan…”
“Sucks, I know.”
“Then why are we here?”
“We’re helping for a change. If you want to sit this one out, go—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he snapped. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“All right.” Shyla straightened, took off her wrap, and strode toward the chapel. It didn’t take long for the two deacons to notice her, and less for them to spot her short blond hair.
“The sun-kissed!” the one on the left yelled, pointing.
“Give the man a prize,” she said. “Gather your people. I’m going to make a confession.” Shyla entered the chapel, crossed the nave, and entered the back hallway that led to the confessionals.
The deacons trotted at her heels, calling to the others. She kept a brisk pace despite wanting to stop and help those suffering inside the rooms. More and more deacons joined them and soon Shyla had quite the parade.
When she reached the end of the corridor, she spun around, holding out her open hands to show she was unarmed. The deacons all stopped as well. Six of them stared at her. Behind them, the vagrants and Mojag rushed into the rooms to free the occupants. Jayden waited with his knife drawn in case she needed him.