The exterior of the cave remained as they left it; clumps of fallen snow marring the boot print pathways from the entrance and towards the imprints of the tech sleds. Lapis half-expected the khentauree to have nosed about, but she saw no hint that the mechanical beings had set foot outside the tunnels. Still, she double-checked the slits she made in her heavy coat sleeves, to allow her gauntlets to function properly. She preferred them to the dingy grey tech weapon slung over her shoulder.
She reminded Lorcan she had no idea how to use the thing. He shrugged and told her to snug it against her shoulder, press the catch button, point, and hold the trigger down. Maybe move it back and forth. Patch’s smirk did not encourage her, and he appeared excited to have one as well—though he hid his enthusiasm. Little boy squeals of delight did not impress most serious adults.
Only Chiddle refused to carry one, and Lorcan, admitting the lost cause, did not push.
Their group untied their snowshoes and strapped them to their packs in silence. They tipped their fuzzy hoods back, but everyone kept their neck warmers pulled over their mouths and noses. Lapis edged it up to cover her ears as well; they felt like ice cubes and ached from the cold.
Patch jerked his chin at Dagby and they entered first, their tech lights on but dim. She had time to hold her breath before they yelled the all-clear. Brander patted her shoulder, amused, and followed the two men. The rest of them trailed him, though Vory and the Black Hats eyed the environment with suspicion.
The blown wall had no obstruction, which she found odd. Unwanted visitors came into the khentauree midst, and they did nothing to prevent further infiltration? The Ambercaast group behaved much differently, though Jhor might have had a hand in that. Or not. The personalities of the mechanical beings seemed set long before he traveled to the mines.
Other than the previously fallen railing, the stairs and the corridor into the first room were also clear. Caitria made a point of shining her light at the left-hand tunnel that led to the huge khentauree; no blockage, either, at least on this side. Lapis did not want to traipse down to find out if the mechanical beings barricaded or trapped it, and she definitely did not want to experience the roar again.
She glanced at the Abastion rebel, but her dead-eyed seriousness continued to darken her expression. She had returned to the commons room late the night before, sniffling with tears and refusing to speak to anyone other than Mairin. By morning, her normal cheerfulness had snuffed out, replaced by weary bleakness. Lapis suspected her anguish focused on Ty, and she wanted to discuss it with her, ask if she was OK, and then ask if Rin needed more protection from him. She did not want him to face repercussions because he refused to suffer under a local boy’s need for retaliation.
She turned to her partner, needing to say something to him about her concerns, and realized he and Chiddle stared at the right-hand tunnel. A prickle coursed up her back. What did they sense she did not? Brander, Mairin, and Linz tensed, and Vory and the four Black Hats raised their tech weapons, ready to fire.
Chiddle buzzed. “I hear the khentauree,” he said.
They all looked at him. “There’s something on the frequencies that Jhor told me Gedaavik used,” Patch said. “It sounds like static.”
“No. It is khentauree speech.”
“What are they saying?” Lapis asked.
“It is strange talk. Religious talk.” Raspy annoyance coated his words. “Gedaavik told us of Maphezet Kez. He followed the luck of stars and thought everyone should also worship them because they gifted him a successful corporation. He owned many mines and rivaled empire political leaders in wealth. He did as he pleased, and no one told him no. Except for Gedaavik. He said no when Kez demanded code to compel his khentauree to practice and enforce his religious rites. His employees did not like it and saw it as blasphemous. Kez said he saved souls. Khentauree have no souls to save. Religion is a human thing, not a khentauree thing.”
“I can’t picture Gedaavik as religious,” Lapis admitted.
“No. That is why he wrote a program to let khentauree circumvent human religion and installed it when he could. Human religion is not for khentauree.”
Human religion was not for humans either. She recalled the priests of the Fifth God lighting incense in the Stone Streets to keep the Pit’s stink at bay, while doing nothing to fix the underlying problems causing it. That was worship in Jiy, fake piety to hide deeper corruption.
But the khentauree had their own rites, even if they did not see it that way. The maintained graveyard Sanna led them through at Ambercaast, the concept of going to silence, pointed at some kind of sacred conviction.
“Others were not so kind to khentauree,” Chiddle continued. “Ree Helvasica visited Ambercaast. She knew Gedaavik, and she thought he should make code to force khentauree to give their souls to her gods. Gedaavik thought she abused the khentauree, and he refused to help her. She made nasty threats, but the mine owners ignored her. She left. She must have come here. The khentauree speak of the Ree-god.” He hummed softly. “This may be why Luthier is silent.”
“Do you think the khentauree here carry out a god-worshipping program?” Lapis thought that described what she witnessed on her last visit to the underground place. Did they see the giant khentauree as a priest or a god?
“I don’t know. But I will tell Sanna and she will tell Jhor. Gedaavik must have worked with khentauree here, for they use his frequencies. They should have his circumvention code installed, but Ree Helvasica might have developed a workaround. We know, when others attempted to thwart Gedaavik’s code, it never ended well for khentauree. Except for Jhor’s.”
“Jhor didn’t want to thwart Gedaavik’s code and isn’t interested in harming you.”
“He helps us, works with us. I must speak with them.”
“Can you reach Sanna from here?”
Chiddle cocked his head. “Sanna? Yes. But I must speak with the tera-khent. The Cuddle Bear khentauree. Their voice is loud and overrides the others, but it has a bad buzz to it.”
Bad buzz? What did that mean?
“Do you think they know we’re here?” Caitria asked.
“If they monitor for signals, yes. But they chatter much, so they assume no one else listens.” He hummed, for longer than a human could hold their breath. “Sanna says she will ask Luthier about Ree-god. Jhor says that speaking with the khentauree should not endanger me. They may try to upload code, but they will fail.”
Caitria studied the tunnel, then eyed Chiddle. “We don’t want to lose you, Chiddle. This seems like a danger best avoided.”
“It is no danger. It is help.”
But did they want help? Luthier proved the stubbornness of khentauree when they rejected offers of aid.
“And maybe we can find out about that large tunnel,” Patch said. “The khentauree use it, so it’s probably in better condition than anything that way,” and he waved in the direction the Black Hats had camped. “If that way can get us into the Shivers quicker, we can ask for safe passage. We have lives, human and khentauree, to think about.”
Caitria sucked in a huge breath, then nodded. “Alright. Lapis, Patch, go with Chiddle. Just . . . be careful. These khentauree may not be trustworthy.”
Chiddle buzzed, annoyed, and pivoted before trotting to the tunnel, a blue light issuing from his forehead and lighting the way. Lapis and Patch scrambled to follow.