Chapter 4

Back in her chamber, Leiyn slept as if dead. A part of her wished it were true. But she’d stared despair in the face too often to give in without a fight. 

Even now.

When she awoke, she shivered and came upright. It had been many seasons since she truly felt the cold. Having ceased to repress her mahia, it had been a constant source of comfort and warmth even through the bitterest of nights.

Now, like the candles upon the altar, her lifefire faltered. Always on the verge of being extinguished.

Caging a groan behind her teeth, Leiyn pried off her gloves, stiff with dried wax, and dipped her hands in her water bucket. Refreshing though it was not to lap it like a beast, she tried not think of how filthy her hands remained even after rinsing them. The water had been far from clear when delivered to them, and she made it no cleaner.

You’ve eaten raw rats and half-raw fish. Your guts will survive this.

She tested her limits further by sampling the food. Prying off the moldy crust, she swallowed against her gag and bit into the stale loaf. Though her jaw ached to chew it, she was able to mash it enough to swallow. She managed a few more bites before her throbbing jaw allowed no more.

Weary yet restless, Leiyn staggered to her feet and left her alcove. How long had passed now? About half her candle remained from her and Zaki’s explorations before she had extinguished it. Had it been a day? Or not even? Already, it felt maddening not to know.

With immediate concern for her survival dissipating, she wondered about her friends’ fates. Ata had whisked them away, as she had sworn to do, but the dryvan’s heritage had been faulty in Refugio thanks to the world titan’s influence. Perhaps she had not taken them to safety. Perhaps they were captured as well. Or dead.

Good way to go mad, she told herself. They escaped. Have a little faith, won’t you?

But faith had always come difficult for her. As she passed into the central chamber, the statues of the Saints seemed to stare down at her with accusation. Leiyn studied their faces. A realization crystallized, one that had taken too long to form.

Wherever she was, she was certain it was still on Refugio. Likely, this catacomb was buried somewhere on the Catedrál campus itself, or Adelina and her retinue would have a far more difficult time reaching them. If the sanctity of the crypt was not clue enough, that she had before dreamt of the world titan was further confirmation.

But if that were true, it meant any hope of rescue was even more remote. Ata could enter most places, but not if she was denied travel through grottos.

Rescue. Leiyn had hardly dared to entertain the thought. Wishing for things to happen had always seemed a pointless exercise. If you wanted something done, it was best to do it yourself. Thus had she concentrated on finding her own method of escape.

But as that hope became increasingly remote, she could not help but wonder if her friends would return for her. Could they sense her, or did her manacles prevent her lifeforce from being seen? Or perhaps the Crypt of the Six itself hid them from sight? The Catedrál had shown themselves capable of incredible feats of magic she had assumed were beyond them. It would not stretch the imagination to think they had built walls that, like the central column within the Coterie Tower of the eesuwé, could hide any sign of lifeforce within them.

If that were so, rescue was scarcely a possibility. Ata could not appear where she could not know to go. Leiyn’s last hope lay in Chispa. Ketti’s hummingbird, Biqqa, had defied the enchantments of the column and appeared to her without effort. Perhaps Leiyn’s silver fox was also capable of such feats.

Even now, part of her hoped they would stay away. If she became the bait that led to their capture or worse, she could never forgive herself.

Better I rot.

The cheerful thoughts carried her to the altar, where the last of the candles was near to sputtering out. Relighting her candle, she made past Arias’s passage and San Luciana’s statue to the tunnel in which Rhun hunkered. Leiyn glanced inside the wildsoul’s alcove, but did not linger or call out a greeting. She had no energy to waste on those already resigned to their fate.

Are you not to blame? a part of her taunted. A question all the more vexing for having no answer.

From the start, the passage seemed more complete than the one that had led to the empty tomb. In addition to the tiled floor and finished walls, empty sconces appeared at regular intervals, indicating this place had once been lined with torches or lighted artifacts like the pearl braziers. The alcoves she passed had received a similar treatment, and though the altars were equally as dusty as those she had seen before, small idols set atop them told of whom this passage had been dedicated to: San Hugo. It was not a far stretch to assume the same would hold true of the other passages. That the Crypt of the Six was true to its name, and that all five of the Saints—if not the mysterious sixth—were kept here.

She hobbled down the hall, as straight as the one she had explored before. Her stomach churned, warning of needs that would not be long put off, but she pressed on. Her strength was marginally higher than the day before, and she needed to take advantage of it while she could. Adelina would return in two days, more or less. She had to be ready—as ready as she could be—if she had any hope of escape.

At last, the corridor opened into a chamber. Leiyn raised her eyes from the tiled floor clear of stalagmites to take in the smooth walls. Like the previous chamber, a stone coffin occupied the center, but its lid was still sealed. It was not plain, every inch of its face etched with the iconography of San Hugo. A motif of the fist holding the scales appeared around the edges.

In the fringes of the room were pedestals topped with glass domes. Once, they might have housed items—relics that once belonged to San Hugo, she guessed. The walls, too, looked not to have always been so bare. Holes remained at regular intervals where tapestries had once hung.

Leiyn hobbled to the central dais, which had the convenience of stairs, and up to the coffin. The top of it was also etched, this time with the likeness of San Hugo holding up his scales of justice. Raising her eyes from it, she wondered if it was as empty of remains as the pedestals and walls. Wondered when the crypt had been cleared out and for what purpose. Was it all so they could be kept prisoner here? What made this place a better dungeon than any other Catedrál cell?

Mahia.

It was the only reasonable explanation. Magic was highly discouraged in Ilberia. Such simple displays as the pearls and beads of jet enchanted to emit light would unsettle the most devout Omnist. And though she could not sense it, Leiyn guessed the enchantments did not stop there. The walls would be hiding them from the world without, perhaps even preventing passage through grottos.

What an honor, prisoners taking precedence over Saints.

Partly from the hope of finding something useful within, partly from being an habitual iconoclast, Leiyn pushed on the coffin’s lid. If it could be moved, it required strength far beyond what she presently possessed. She heard no grinding, no movement beneath her hands, even as she pressed until she was panting.

Relenting, Leiyn wiped the cold sweat from her brow and set back to her original purpose. Teetering down the stairs, endangered with every unsteady step, Leiyn moved to the edges of the room. There were no loose stones here to test breaking the glass, but she tried shifting it from the stone below it. She could move them no more than the coffin lid. Pressing her fingers around the seams, she felt resin sealing the glass to the stone. Enchanted resin, by the glow against her lifesense, which had just enough capacity to sense it.

Stepping away, Leiyn made a circuit of the room, though without hope of finding anything of assistance. The walls contained only the slighest cracks. The ceiling, if she could reach it, appeared devoid of faults as well.

Another dead-end.

Her spirit dragged as much as her feet. What use was there in her explorations? She had no reason to believe the other crypts would be less picked-over than San Hugo’s.

There was no way out.

She wanted to lie down at the foot of the coffin and not rise again. Become one more skeleton added to this tomb.

And let Sharo win? Let him slaughter and enslave your friends?

Leiyn gritted her teeth, then forced one foot in front of the other. Wax dripped down her hand, her candle burned down to a stub. She would have to requisition another candle before she could explore the other corridors. Though it promised to do her little good, she would do it.

But not yet. For now, she would rest. Eat. Regain her strength.

Dream of an escape that would never come.

***

The burning eye filled her mind as she slept. Veins of rock ran through its fiery sclera. Lava bubbled up in the iris. A black chasm, slitted like a reptile’s or cat’s, yawned from the glow, greedily sucking in the light. Once more, the eye rifled her soul, searching for something she could not comprehend.

She awoke damp with sweat and pulse racing. Yet such dreams were preferable to imagining what Sharo had in store for her.

Taking care of her necessities in her bucket next to the altar—already stinking, to her resigned shame—Leiyn drank and ate once more. Her jaw still ached, but was more or less functional, standing up to the task of chewing through the stale bread and spoiled meat.

Stomach more dissatisfied than ever, Leiyn tried to make the best use of her time. She explored the edges of the central chamber, searching for any useful tools or clues to escaping she might have missed before. She examined the great altar, scraping back the wax to see if knives or other sharp implements had been left beneath. The candles had gone out, delaying further ventures down the other corridors. Part of her was relieved. The expectation of failure made it difficult to remain motivated.

Leiyn was banging a rock against the glass orbs containing the pearls when Zaki appeared from their corridor. The Eteman wore a small smile as they approached. Leiyn tried to return it, but her face failed to cooperate.

“I have tried that,” Zaki said as they came astride her, gesturing at a post further along the circle. “Only made a mark.”

Leiyn struck the glass one last time before pausing to catch her breath and examine her progress. Calling the scuff on its face a mark was being generous. But if it could be marred, it could be broken. That would give them sharp glass for weapons and easier access to the pearls, if they figured out a way to free themselves of their bonds.

Zaki rested a hand on her shoulder. “We will escape this place, Leiyn. Ketti will come for us. The Guardian of Solace is bound to her, yes? There is nowhere they can hide us that she will not find.”

Leiyn met their eyes and nodded. Even if her own hope sputtered out like the candles on the altar, she was glad for the Eteman’s resilience. Their fellow prisoners showed what most were reduced to in this place. It had only taken two days for Leiyn to join in their despondency, though Zaki helped keep the despair at bay.

The Eteman pressed her shoulder, then released her. “We will be free. Until then, we must keep faith.”

Faith. Leiyn would have laughed had she the energy for it. Faith had led to their imprisonment.

Yet in the face of the overwhelming logic, in the face of impossible odds and intolerable surrounds, what was there left for them but faith?

“We will be free,” Leiyn murmured, willing herself to believe.