Chapter 32: Drake's Away

They followed Tuft in single file, Chiddle at the rear. The ice khentauree used his bubbles to illuminate their path, but so dim, Lapis dared not peek into the darkness, or she would miss some stray object and trip. Tense expectancy filled the air, growing heavier with each step.

Other than their footsteps and the tink of hooves, no sounds reached them. She expected heavy showers of debris, the groaning of the structure, perhaps the buzz of upset mechanical beings. How much better kept was this sublevel? Of course, if the beings spent most of their time deeper underground, it made sense they would make certain the ceilings and walls did not collapse.

But what if the theater crumpled? Did they have another way out?

Citrus scent filled her nose and she could not identify anything else; no mustiness, no rotting wood, no sponoil. What did they clean, that needed the overwhelming punch?

Gera snagged a paper from a desk, one with half a page of sloppy script. The edges broke off into fine powder, and she brought it to her face to read. “I don’t think this sublevel was part of the theater,” she whispered. “This is written in Taangin.”

“Let me see,” Tuft said. He took the page by the upper left corner, held it at face level and perused the script, not losing a step. “It is a continuation of correspondence to another about the evacuation of military personnel from outposts in western Theyndora. They are upset about the unexpected retreat to Taangis and the mess created. Some base workers married local spouses, and they were told to abandon their families. It is not finished.”

“So someone left it on a desk because they got called away, and the khentauree neatened it up after they left?” Gera asked.

“Why’s it still here?” Layne peered at the tops of other desks. “You’d think the Jilvaynan leaders would have sent someone down here after the troops left. This should have ended up in a dossier or the waste basket.”

“I do not know,” Tuft said. “It is handwritten, so is part of a personal letter.” He shook his head. “This is not a good sign.”

“What do you mean?” Lapis asked, fear spiking.

“Lead faster,” Chiddle whispered.

They picked up the pace. The ice khentauree hastened to the wall and opened the next door they saw; the hinges did not squeak, a small bit of luck. Gera and Layne, then she and Rin, hustled inside a walk-in closet with empty shelves. She winced as they hit the metal, producing a soft ring. The two mechanical beings squeezed inside and Tuft closed it, then snuffed the bubbles.

She huddled against Rin to give others more room, pulled her scarf over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. The terror-induced beat of her heart in her ears overwhelmed her, and she fought to regain a sliver of courage so she did not dissolve into a quivering puddle. She hated the dark, she hated the terror, and she would be above, in brighter light, if not for Arox290 and the khentauree who listened to it. Why had they not left the guards in the orchestra pit? Why cart them down there?

And why was that note a bad sign? Because it hinted that they faced military units, not ones sold to the commercial market? If so, why were they grey and not charcoal with bright stripes?

Eternity did not take as long. Her time perception disappeared in the void of anxious anticipation, and she jumped when the soft glow of a bubble returned.

“I lost Dov,” Tuft told them, annoyed. “They said they entered a maintenance room with many separate tubes for khentauree downtime. They do not think some function any longer, and neither do their khentauree. But most remain active, and it appears Arox290 issues commands through the console that monitors them. The interference remains a steady drone, easily bypassed, so I don’t know why their signal disappeared.”

“Rooms with maintenance tubes are a military design,” Chiddle said. “The theater must sit atop an old base.”

A base inside Jiy? Did the theater hide the presence of soldiers, or did the Jilvaynans build one over the top, oblivious? No, not oblivious; they used khentauree as staff. Hadn’t they?

“I don’t get it. How did the Dentherions miss this?” Gera asked, waving at the door. “They tore through everything associated with the Jilvaynan king and destroyed it.”

“Dagby’s sayin’ that some staff made it up to the third story and escaped out the windows,” Rin said. “So’s they were here. They shoulda encountered the khentauree, too.”

“Maybe they did?” Layne tapped her index finger on the tech stock as she regarded the sheet Tuft still held. “They had to have plowed through the theater storage and actors’ dressing rooms. They would have seen the elevator at the end of the hall—it’s hard to miss. If they couldn’t get it to work, they would have taken the stairs, gone in the second sublevel next. They couldn’t have missed a huge maintenance room like Dov described.”

“And if the khentauree took them out, considering the chaos of an invasion, they would have been listed as lost in combat,” Lapis said.

“It’s so strange.” Gera gripped her helmet strap and adjusted it as she peered around. “All these khentauree in and around Jiy, and we don’t have any references to them. We should have heard something.”

“We did,” Lapis said, hoping her voice remained steady. “Some of the street cants and stories are about khentauree.  Heard the one about Lizza and a street rat?”

“Yeah.”

“Vali’s Lizza, a then-child thief named Chinder was the street rat, and they watched Ghost lead an Ambercaast khentauree dance. I doubt he chased them, though—it was a cautionary tale for the rest of Jiy.”

The two Minq stared at her, mouths open. “That . . . makes sense,” Layne murmured. “Now I’m going to go over those tales and try to put them in context of what we now know.”

“We’s cautious ‘round certain places, even if we don’t knows why,” Rin said. “This here theater’s been one to avoid in street circles. Always rumors ‘bout shank disappearances and strange lights at night. Dagby said Scar the Red vanished down here. He went in the staff door, never came back out.”

Layne hmphed. “His disappearance set up Hoyt real well. Wish Shara had been in charge when that happened. She never would have let his ring gain the ground it did.”

“She never would have put up with Cimis—” Gera began, but the bubble went out and Tuft made a low hissing sound.

Light filtered beneath the door, bright enough Lapis wondered how many khentauree passed by. She could make out the dim silhouettes of her companions. Chiddle leaned over and rapped Tuft on the arm; he nodded, but said nothing.

“Lost them did you?”

Lapis covered her mouth with her hands to keep from gasping. Copper? Patch? Someone set a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place, and she fell back from the sudden jolt of excitement. No; the unfamiliar voice spoke Lyddisian with a Dentherion accent, and the khentauree would recognize anyone they knew and break hiding.

What was a stranger doing down there?

“It’s not a surprise.” Lapis frowned; she expected a khentauree to respond, but instead another human spoke. They sounded younger, snobbier, and with an accent she associated with Taangin tourists. “These are old machines.”

She must have made a noise, because Layne tapped her bicep with the back of her hand, moved forward, smooshed against Chiddle and opened the door as slow as molasses in the snowy months. She peeked through a narrow crack; more light filtered in, illuminating Rin’s shock and Gera’s resignation.

She crept to the Minq, squatted, and peered through the tiny gap; Tuft set his leg against her and leaned over to look as well. Hoping he said nothing, she wrapped her arm around it and hugged tight.

Rin and Gera crowded their backs, arching their necks for a peep.

Two people stood behind a desk holding hand-held lanterns common along the Jiy docks. One looked like a modder, dressed in a loose button shirt of cheap, silky Dentherion make and a brown leather jacket. His unkempt brown curls and stubble would make a shank proud. The other wore a heavy fur uniform coat and thick gloves. His dark bangs were neatly combed to the side, but no shiny oil held them in place. She had seen his sunken-cheeked cast on the rats when they had gone a few days without a meal; had they gotten trapped down there without food?

Before she could decide whether to reveal herself and ask, a third stumbled to a halt next to them, bending over her knees, gasping. She dressed in a lighter uniform coat, her hair in a messy braid that fell over her shoulder.

“Arox290 locked me out,” the woman huffed. “I can’t open the shell to get by the secondary security measures.” Her accent sounded eastern Theyndora, maybe Andef or Wendwer? They had heavy emphasis on hard ‘k’ sounds.

“I thought the tech here was mediocre garbage,” the first said with thick sarcasm. The combination of Dentherion accent and a modder’s disdain hinted that he worked with machines, and her assumption accurate.

The uniform hmphed. “Garbage or not, they are deploying old Taangin codes we’ve little chance of breaking. We’ve gathered what we can here; it’s time to vacate and leave Jiy to its underwar.”

Underwar? Was that how he described unrest after a king’s demise? She thought the rebels, Minq and Rams had done an exceptional job of keeping conflict to a minimum.

“Where are we going?” the third asked.

“Torc Cresaat,” the uniform said. “It’s another bunker with signs of activity—or so Moorlight said. He believes half the khentauree from Torc Bedan would head in its direction, and he’s certain they’re following an old program to the nearest safe haven. If they’re not there, then we meet Meedry at Torc Idall.”

Moorlight! These were Drakeways shanks? The urge to race to her brother and scream about the fort her uncle wanted to investigate hit up against reality and she froze.

Her brother was in Ramira, fighting with the rebels to evict the empire.

Sarcastic laughter erupted from the modder. “Moorlight?”

“Whatever your personal opinions, Ourin, he has discovered several nests,” the uniform said.

Nests? He made it sound like they infested the theater, rather than lived there.

“And where has that gotten us? Hibby and his crew are gone and those mercs aren’t going to make up that skill loss.” Ourin snorted. “Dead machines my ass.”

“Let’s go before someone comes looking for the guards. We don’t want to be caught in the firefight.”

“They’ll end up as dead,” Ourin said, swinging the light.

Dead? NO! Not dead! Not Copper and Linden! Rin hissed in a breath, interrupted by a jab in his ribs.

“Where’s the tech pack, Shieric?” the uniform asked as she muffled the shock of emotional pain.

“Arox290 sent the khentauree after me,” the woman seethed. “I didn’t have a chance to grab it”

The brief silence told her all she needed to know about the unwelcome news.

“How’re we getting out the back door, then?” the modder asked in the same disbelieving tone a parent used on their outrageous child. “The codes were in it.”

“My memory isn’t burnt toast like yours, Ourin. I can get us out.”

“And if it’s changed the codes? Did you memorize the override?”

The woman jerked up, looked behind her, and the three hastened on.

“What about the rest?” the modder ask, his voice fading rapidly.

“We will send out the call after we leave,” the uniform told them, pissy disapproval flavoring his words. “We need to regroup before Cresaat.” The light dwindled, disappeared, and Layne clicked the door shut.

Ice lined the edges of the door, preventing any hint of glow from leaking out as Tuft formed a bubble then laid a hand on Lapis’s shoulder. “They are not dead,” he said softly.

“Unconscious, not dead,” Chiddle agreed. “LX70 would have said something if they had gone to silence.”

And what if the khentauree sent them to the Pit after they lost contact?

A cacophony of hoofbeats thundered past. Were they chasing the Drakeways shanks? They waited, still, silent, until the khentauree looked at each other.

“I understood nothing of the chatter,” Chiddle said.

“Corrupted language module.” Tuft held out his hand to help her rise, and Lapis took it. “It happened with the Cloister khentauree. They shared the update of newly gathered words, so understood what each other meant, but we Shivers did not. Vision forced them to revert to what the mine had and deleted the corrupted code, much to Luveth’s displeasure.”

“They said Moorlight,” Layne seethed, her weapon quivering under pressure from her hands. “Like Aben Moorlight?”

“Drakeways got him out of Torc Bedan before the Dentherion soldiers arrived to shore it up for the skyshroud,” Lapis said. “I don’t know if the boss decided to hunt khentauree with him or if he hooked up with them because they already were, but they have their hand in the tech pot.”

“Aben’s an ass.” She lifted her lip in disgust. “I’ve met him. He wanted arms deals with the Heirs and leaned on his connection to his father to overcome their skepticism. Everyone knows his dad’s an upstanding Lord’s Councilor and he’s considered a spoiled apple chucked into the road by the rest. He thinks he’s smarter than he is, better looking than he is, wealthier than he is. He tried to put the moves on Shara and refused her no; she kicked him through a plate glass wall. That was the end of any collab, and the reason she got sent to Jiy. The Heirs thought they were exiling her.”

“Worked out best for all involved,” Gera said.

Layne half-laughed. “Especially for Jo Ban and Shara.”

Lapis squeezed Tuft’s hand and let go. “My uncle found information on three torcs the Bedan khentauree might have fled to, and Idall was one of them. He got word that Larks residents saw ghosts in the night, and Larks is in the vicinity of Idall according to old Taangin military maps. He was supposed to send someone to check it out, but I don’t know if they’ve done so yet. Things have gotten a bit wild since the update. Anyway, he thinks Idall’s like Bedan or Ragehill; an underground base evacuated in haste and khentauree left behind. And apparently Drakeways knows about it.”

“Too bad they’re being chased,” Gera said. “I’d love to have a chat—and find out where this back door is.”

“It is safer to remain together,” Chiddle cautioned. “We don’t know what else besides language modules has become corrupted.”

“Shieric likely damaged something attempting to bypass restrictions,” Tuft buzzed. “It is the way of human techs.”

Lapis wormed her mouth to the side; he noted it and did not continue that line of thought. Good; perhaps not typical, but Jhor and Sils did excellent work.

“Let us go. Quietly,” he said, and the ice evaporated.