XXXVI. Down and Further Down
Cahzor burns in the scorching heat. It is midday, and the sun lances down, painting chiaroscuro shadows in the dusty streets. The ground sizzles in the inferno of the valley, the urban landscape trapping the heat like some hellish witch's cauldron. Everything that lives has found shade; straggly dogs napping in abandoned apartments, birds sleeping in ruined alcoves, insects crawling into the dirt.
But you are not on the surface. And there is no sun, no, not here. Your hired scouts led you down a sandy ramp into the basement of one of the tower-blocks, and that revealed that the entire structure has given way. There is a crack in the ground, and the internal floors have through. What exists is a jagged and rough path down into the underlayers of the city. A shady tunnel, lit by the light that pierces the shutterless windows of the higher floors.
The air that rises from the depths is cooler, and there is a hint of humidity. Just enough that you can feel it in your lips. Strangely, it isn't reassuring. This is dead water; water that never sees the light. There will be unwholesome things living in it. Or dead in it. You can
taste the lack of greenery.
"Well, this is it, lady," Ubay says, gesturing. "There's this rough ground, but it connects to one of the old maintenance tunnels and from there, there's a path that'll lead us down. It must have been, oh, two decades ago that I last took the route, but I've heard from others who've done it."
You permit yourself a little bit of doubt. Oh, you can climb this, at least now. You couldn't have before you'd mostly recovered from your injuries. But it doesn't look friendly to the steeds. It looks as dangerous as some of the northern passes when choked with snow in the depths of Air. The ones no one sane would ride a horse through for fear of setting off an avalanche.
"You're sure the steeds can make it?" you ask Ubay.
He nods. "Once we're out of this building, we're mostly onto strong-ish rock and foundation. We're going to have to take it slowly, but the ground after this bit of the descent is fairly solid. For the most part."
You rub your chin. You don't like how many quantifiers he appended. "We'll want the soldiers to spread out through the column," you say. "We'll keep a rearguard here. And we'll need a vanguard, too, to secure the far side. Otherwise, make sure the beasts aren't too heavily loaded, so if one gets lost or goes down, we don't lose too many supplies. I don't want us going hungry because a dumb beast panicked underground."
Captain Burhan pauses from where he had been striking a flint to light his pipe. "Makes sense," he says.
You crack your knuckles. "Before we head down, I want us to know we can get back out. Ubay, take a few people and make sure that path still exists. I don't want to get stuck down there. If it's been washed away or crumbled, then we head to the other bridge."
"Yes, lady."
"Captain, in the meantime, get people ready to cross. I don't want to do it late in the day. I want plenty of sunlight to retreat to."
"Mmm."
You consider matters as he rounds some people up. If they all get killed by monsters, well, that'd be awfully inconvenient for you. Hmm. You tap your fingertips together, then go and look for one of your lovers.
Zakiya is leaning against the bare wall by the entrance down to the lower levels, chewing something. She focuses on you. "I hope you know what you're doing," is all she says.
Ah, those words. So pernicious. So treacherous. Anyone who says that is probably plotting against you. Or at least considering whether they might want to plot against you. Like they did back in Cherak.
And yet for all that, you're maybe two-thirds sure you're doing the right thing. There's a distinct side of you that thinks it might be better to risk the warlord-ruled bridge. You hadn't exactly been planning to go spelunking when you woke at an ungodly hour this morning. It's nagging you with doubt that maybe it could be safer to face the known threat of humans against whatever lives down there.
Well, that part of you should shut up. You've made your decision, so it should accept the will of the Rena.
Blue is sprawled out in the shade, looking for all the world like he's comfortable on the rim of a dried-up fountain. One hand trails through the sand which chokes the bowl. Straggly, yellowing grass grows there. Maybe there's still a hint of water oozing underneath. The windowless tower groans in the soft, hot breeze.
"Darling. I want you to do something for me."
He turns around with the general mood and attitude of a puppy, orange eyes bright. "What is your command, lady?" he says, sitting upright, legs crossed.
"We're going to be crossing this chasm through the underground route. Some of the scouts are going to make sure the path is clear. I want you to go with them and keep them safe." You meet his eyes. "Blue, listen to me. If something happens to them, we'll have to wait even longer out here under the sun."
"Oh, that'd be the worst!"
"Yes, yes. So, go with them. I know I can trust you," you blatantly lie, "so you'll make sure they can see if there's a path.
He springs to his feet. "It will be done!"
You see him off, striding confidently behind the lead scout, and then you get to work reassuring your followers, letting your presence soothe their worries. They don't need to be concerned. They just need to do what you say. Some of the workers find a damp patch in one of the alcoves, and they get to work digging. The water isn't something you'd want to rely on except in an emergency, but it's good enough for your mounts. The asses and the camels are fighting for it even before they've finished.
It's too hot for you to be working, so you settle down on the same dry fountain Blue had been lounging, and cross your legs. A little meditation might settle your mind. This isn't a time for worry. And this hot, dead landscape is making your skin crawl. Yellowing grass isn't much, but it's
something.
Of course, you don't get anything nice. You're woken by your handsome birdman, chequered kaftan blowing behind him as he shakes your shoulder.
"Yes?" you demand irritably.
"Were you napping?"
"I was clearing my mind."
Amigere sits down next to you. "Are you really sure you want to be doing this?" he asks.
"Yes."
"It's just that," his gestures take in the ruins. "I've heard about the Cahzori under-layers. There are things down there. Monsters, demons, spectres, things much worse than Blue."
"You heard what they said," you say. "Two thirds of a day just to get to that other bridge – and then there's the warlord who runs it."
"I don't like it. This is dangerous, Meira."
"And bridges guarded by murderous warlords are safe?" you scoff. Just to reinforce your point, you raise your eyebrows at him as archly as possible.
"We should rebuild the bridge. Some of the men were talking about doing that. Surely that would be more sensible. I could take the men back, get some supplies. It wouldn't take too long..."
"Darling," you say firmly, "I'm not paying for that."
"I just think…"
"Good. Thinking is good. But keep it to yourself." You flap your hands at him. "Shoo. Shoo. I need to prepare myself for what comes next. I'm going to need to be alert when we're down there. Clear-headed. And I recommend you do the same."
Of all the things in the world you are currently thankful for, near the top of the list has to be good quality boots. That is all you can think as you descend, in the middle of the convoy. You found an excellent, if aged, pair in the markets of Cahzor, and whoever the long-ago woman who had commissioned these had been, she had been a sensible woman. With conveniently sized feet.
Blue, of course, is offensively cheerful. "It's awfully good down there, lady," he says. "No sun, a perfectly doable climb, and the slope up the other side is even easier than heading down! The only problem was I didn't have a chance to show you my bravery. I wanted to bring you the head of some fearsome beast, but would you know, the only thing that attacked us were some biting insects." He pauses. "I stabbed them, of course, but they're not really a
heroic prize."
"Thank you, darling," you say absent-mindedly as you step down shallow stairs made of chipped, worn blue tiles. They've been swept clean recently. Not by people. By the flow of water. The thirsty earth has devoured the gift of chaos. "But aren't you meant to be at the front? Heroically ensuring our safety."
"Well, I thought that…" You glance at him, combining disappointment and a pout. "Yes, of course."
He leaves you alone, pushing past the men in front of you, and for that you're thankful. There's too much to see, too much to think about without being distracted by Blue's common inanities.
You hadn't realised how far you'd actually have to travel down here. As the crow flies, it was maybe fifty metres across the missing bridge, and that's generous. But there is no bridge, and while perhaps an agile man with a rope could scale the side of the chasm, you have steeds and supplies. Which means a much more circuitous route has to be taken.
Mounts and baggage and soldiers with their clanking gear follow the trail of white chalk on the walls laid out by the scouts. People are getting tired, and there's a low level of grumbling, but no one wants to wait down here too long. It's several hours past noon and sun-hating creatures will start to get more active by dusk.
The air is damp, and shockingly cool compared to the surface. You've broken out the oil lamps, but they're not always necessary. The plants down here are glowing chaos-infused grasses that have never known the sun. They recoil away from the honest light of a flame. Sprouting among them are mushrooms that feed off the rot of Cahzor, but the scouts burn those when they can, extending candles on the end of long poles. The spores, they say, are toxic.
And then there are the noises. It's not silent underground. You've climbed down a long gallery, made your way down old maintenance corridors, passed along water-smoothed rock paths bare to the sun, and now you're in the remains of a building that slumped down into the chasm.
A dead building is like a just-dead body. They both make sounds that almost sound like they're still alive. They groan, they make noises as they settle, they ooze out fluids from ruptured pipes. The normal sounds of the life that the city must once have had are silent here, so you can hear the load-bearing walls creak like old bones and the hot wind creep down the abandoned corridors like a monstrous breath. It blows through tunnels; architecture becoming stonewind instruments. And then there's the dripping from that wet, water-damaged corridor.
Below it all, there's the sound of running water. It's getting louder. You can't help but wrap your hands over each other, feeling for the throwing knives you have up your wrists.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Ahead of you, one of the mules starts braying, the agitated beast trying to get free. The soldiers pull at its ropes while someone holds its head and whispers to it. You push up towards them.
"What's the matter with the beast?" you ask.
One of the soldiers turns to you, a leathery-faced woman whose nose has clearly been broken twice before. "Something's spooked it."
You can see
that. "See what you can do," you say, looking around. There's a sense of hollowness ahead of you in the dark, a shift in the air pressure. Maybe that's what set the animal off.
"There's nothing to worry about," you announce, loudly. You do your part, reassuring people. Being the dragon-child they need, someone they were born to follow. You do that even though you're just as tired as them, and want your bedroll and something soft. Honestly, you appreciate a rest. Your thigh is aching from the constant up-and-downhill climbs and the unstable terrain.
You smile to yourself wryly. Could just be that the mule is feeling as tired and achy as you.
Drip. Drip. Drip. The sound worries you. Nags at you. Something is off.
Where's that sound coming from? You focus properly, listening for the closer dripping of water as the hair on the back of your neck rises.
There's a door off the main path, that leads to some long-collapsed room. There's still some floor on the far side of the wall, too far away to jump. Leaning in, you can see a table stacked with mouldering books, and an overturned chair that's half-way fallen into the hole that's devoured the floor. There are water stains around that hole.
Something darker than the surroundings moves, just out of the circle of light. You immediately raise your lantern, but there's no sign of what it was. You don't dare blink.
Behind you, there's the sound of the stupid mule finally starting to move. You swallow, not wanting to turn your back. You stand there until someone nudges you. Yes. You should go.
The path leads on, out of the building and down a ramp made of a collapsed wall. The blue sky can be seen, a slash of a semi-circular smile. The building you were in looks like it was once some kind of grand shopfront, and there's still a few hints of its once-magnificent yellow facade. The structure must have slid down the side of the chasm, and the fact that it is still somewhat intact is a mark of the indomitable strength of Shogunate architecture.
Your eyes widen as you inhale the damp, not-quite-wholesome air. You're in a sizable natural cavern. No, not a natural cavern; some kind of water still of the ancients. But the walls are ruined and eroded by the passage of time, and the bare sandstone is revealed in many places. There is a lake here, a hundred metres across or more, with rivers flowing into it from old pipes. Rays of light from on high catch the dirty, dark water and make it gleam and glitter like a hidden treasure. Picking out the ripples. There are other buildings that have fallen down into here, collapsing into this ill-lit abyss, and some of them rise half-flooded from the lake.
"What is this?" you ask one of the guides, who's waving people along. He's a small man, barely taller than a boy in your eyes.
"This here? 'S a still. Flooded 'cause of the changerain, but looks like it's burned off pretty much all the chaos by now. It'll be dry before 'Bration." He looks like one of those monkeys who like the hot springs in Cherak, you decide; his face is nearly as red as theirs from the sun. "This is about as low as we go, lady. The crack by the bridge connects up to this place, and now it's basically uphill from here."
That's something. That's definitely something. "Is the water potable?" you ask.
"Huh?"
"Drinkable. Can you drink it?" you clarify.
"Dunno."
Helpful. You purse your lips, then give orders for everyone else to keep on moving. The convoy will take a good amount of time to get past here, so you can have some time to check this water. You want to see how long it takes for the chaos to decay from this changerain. It'll matter for your sorcerous experiments.
The water smells stagnant - a sign that the chaos has mostly left it. Stagnant and dead. And there's a faintly acidic note to its scent; perhaps, yes, a mark of the pollution in the ground of Cahzor. Just like the Little Nam is laden with the waste of ancient mines.
Stooping, you pick up one of the water-rounded rocks that lie on the impromptu beach, and weigh it in your hand. And then with a calculated toss, you send it skimming along the water. One, two, three - you count the bounces. You manage nine. Nine is a symbol of imperfection, of subtle defects, of events waiting for their culmination - and thus of potential. Potential is by its very nature imperfect, for it has not come into being.
Could be that it's not an sign, of course. Could be that you're just very good at skimming stones.
Your eyes adapt to the darkness as you stare at the intersecting ripples, looking for omens in the motion of the water. And perhaps that's why the movement in one of the half-flooded buildings draws your eye. There is a robed figure in one of the structures, waiting at a glassless, shutterless window. And there, another one, another one on the roof of that one over there. And yet another, and this one stands against one of the walls, knee-deep in water.
There are many of them. And if that window is the size you think it is, that would mean that the robed figures are taller than the men of the south. A good two metres and change tall, despite their stoop. And the neck is too long - no, they're not human. Perhaps they're mutants living in the depths. Maybe something else.
But this isn't a place to linger.
You hurry back to the main body of the convoy, and find Zakiya. Who wasn't who you were looking for, but you'll take her. She purses her lips as you explain to her in a hushed tone so you don't scare the soldiers.
"Deep-watchers," she tells you. "I know of them. They're scared of fire and sunlight. I'll have the soldiers light torches 'for the climb ahead'."
"Have you ever seen one up close?" you ask. Maybe you can identify them…
She shakes her head. "I met a man who said he'd been the lone survivor of an attack on a small band of delvers. The others had been lured away by their lanterns, and wandered into danger, and he'd nearly followed. But something had allowed him to realise he wasn't meant to be following the light, and he'd run back to the surface. So no, I haven't seen one up close and I don't want to."
Damn. Not enough to narrow it down much. There's a lot of creatures out there that can trick weak mortal minds with lights.
"I'll make sure people don't linger," you say. "If they're scared of sunlight, we want to be out of here before it sets."
The air of your group changes as the new orders come through and men light smoky, tar-dipped torches. Enough of them have been down into the underlayers that they know that an order to light torches means there's often a risk of danger from the creatures down here. People stick closer together, and you hear the muttering that they're glad they're working for someone who took enough soldiers to scare off the beasts. If there are only a few of them down here, then hopefully they won't make trouble with such a large group.
There's no sign of the deep-watchers after you leave the lakeside, and then you're climbing again, picking your way through dusty galleries and cutting between slumped buildings. You reach the surface again without any trouble, clambering out of a sunken road which now slopes down into caverns below the city.
It's hot and bright and bone-dry after your time in the depths, and your eyes water in the reddish light. The sun is low over the dam, and it'll be dark soon.
Some of the soldiers fall to the ground, hissing the hot sand and praying to various Cahzori gods. You don't do such a thing, of course, but you do mutter thanks to the Dragons that they chose not to afflict you with misfortune.
"Phew," Amigere says, wiping his feathered brow as he leans back, hands on his hips. "My nerves are as limp as an untuned shamisen after that."
"I told you you'd be fine, darling," you make sure to remind him.
He sighs ruefully at you. "Yes, you did."
"I don't want to say that I told you so."
"But you did tell me so."
"Of course I did. Because I'm right. Have a little more faith in me."
"Yes, my lady."
You nod happily at that. "Ubay," you call out for the elderly guide, "where is the next safe resting place?"
"Zorthirbank is perhaps a mile that way, built into the side of the tall pyramid there," he says, pointing over to a looming structure that lost its tip long ago. "It has walls, and a well."
"Captain?"
"The men can make it, though we'll need a rest day after that," the captain says.
You could use that. Your feet are sore and you need to lie down. "Very well. We wait until everyone has regrouped here, and then push on," you order.
Everyone is feeling much better after a rest day, and you manage to even have a bath. Water is expensive, so you have to share it with your boyfriends, but that's not actually something you object to.
Then you're back to the crepuscular life, inching across the burning alleyways and crystal-glass scattered highways, diverting around cracks in the land and cutting through the ruins of yesteryears.
It's a few days to the nearest town to your destination; Cahzor-Pearl-Souk, or Zorpearl to the locals. The Pearl Souk, Amigere tells you, was once a great shopping arcade, and the Elemi jansi built their initial fortune off plundering it. They were doubly blessed, because not only were there treasures to mine from the ruins, but an ancient pipe spilled water into a canyon, giving them water for their fields and to grow strong. To make plays for the title of Sugun, and even hold it once or twice. But they declined as they exhausted the natural resources of their land - say the jansi - and in their decline they grew desperate and hungry, betraying Cahzor to Gem.
The town itself is ringed by a wall, made from rubble from demolished buildings, but the wall is much too vast for how many people who live here. Instead, many of the buildings within the walls have been cleared, and there are fields here. Shallow soil lies in the shade of low walls, protecting irrigation channels. The houses here are clearly of recent build, even if they are made from blocks of Shogunate stone with roofs covered with old road tiles. Within the outer ring is an inner wall, and rising above that is one of the tower blocks, crenulated and turned into a fortress.
You make arrangements with a farmer who stops to talk to the newcomers to pay a small amount to let your men set up camp in some empty barns of his, and together with a few others you head past a second set of gates.
Hands tucked up your sleeves, you stride through the town proper. It is oddly well-preserved. The paint may have flaked from the walls and the statues may have lost their faces to inclement time, but there are still some traces here of style and grandeur just as there were traces in Zorpondam. There is an elegance to the curved walls of the buildings that rise above markets that sprawl out of antiquated shopfronts. Verdigris ornaments squat on fountains watched over by water-vendors and their club-wielding thugs. Dirty barefooted children in faded reds and blues play jumping games in the street, chalking grids on worn devotionary plaques. Washing lines stretch from building to building, leaving their contents dangling. The web of streets here all lead to the markets squares of antiquity, now with new occupants; shrines and holy places that lure all towards them. You can't go far in Zorpearl without seeing such a building.
The bells of the temples chime out, with shrines to gods you don't know. Ah, no, you know the figure that stands in the shadowy courtyard of that black-walled temple; that's the night-goddess Lilia, who the Cahzori worship as a figure of mercy and protection. You're hot enough that you can see their point. But you don't know that lanky four-armed woman, or that black-haired goddess with dark-eyes, or that wizened old man surrounded by hanging origami cranes.
Zakiya lets out a long whistle. "Water prices here could be a lot higher," she says, checking one of the boards in a square. "They're still not as cheap as Zorpondam, but they're a good sum cheaper than they were last time I was here. The new warlord must have struck blue."
"Oh?" Blue asks. "I don't remember that."
"We're not talking about you, darling," you tell him. "New warlord?"
"Last time I was here, the Fuha jansi held this place - a breakaway branch family of the Kinzira - but some nobody with a distant family relationship took over after they lost their heir against raiders and then plague struck. The new one doesn't even use the name."
Well, you've seen what a mess the Kinzira make of their land. Anyone could do better than them. "Hmm." You look around. "If water's cheap here, Amigere, I want you to see what the prices are for anything we're low on. Check with the captain and take the scouts with you. But don't buy anything unless the scouts think there's no way to get a lower price. I'll stop them ripping us off." You stretch. "I'm going to see what halfway decent place they have where I can sleep. Blue, you're coming with me."
"I am?"
"Yes, you are." You look over the others, and clap your hands imperiously. "Come on, chop-chop."
You find a guest house willing to rent you the top floor for a considerably lower price than they thought they were going to offer when you stepped in. It fronts onto a square where a wilting lemon tree grows, showing signs of recent and extreme trimming. There's signs of rain-damage on the tiles, and the stone is discoloured.
With an extravagant sigh, you flop face first onto the bed. Which turns out to be a little less soft than the amount of force in your extravagant collapse really was suited for.
"Ow," you mutter face-first into the bed.
Little paws dig into your back, as
someone decides he wants to sit on you.
"You've shown up," you tell your familiar.
Sei yawns. "Be reasonable. It's been hot and lacking in privacy down here. So I thought I'd let you do the walking."
"You asshole," you grumble, rolling over. He leaps off before you can accidentally-not-accidentally crush him, and settles down by your face.
"Look at you, engaging in exercise. All your dresses will get loose if you keep on exerting yourself."
He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Unfortunately, it works. "Why are you such a fucking pain?"
"Are you denying that you've put on weight since we first met?"
"Are you denying you should jump in a well and drown yourself?" you say, as you grab a pillow.
His little tongue sticks out at you. "Temper, temper. So, here you are. Not too far from the Elemi temple."
You glower at him, but reluctantly nod. "Yes. I think I'll get people started on the work on the site, and after a day or two head off myself to see that place." The sound of a screaming child drifts through the window, and you hope their parents shut them up soon.
"I wonder if the town dates back to them," he says. "This is definitely in better shape than the Kinzira lands. They were fools. You should have let me eat them."
"Then you'd have gotten fat," you say, pulling off your headscarf and running your hands through your hair. It is greasy and sweaty and dusty, from days of travel. "Do you think they have public baths in this town? I wasn't hopeful when I saw this place, but they seem more functional than the peasant squats I've seen in most of the valley."
"You should just clean yourself with your tongue."
As you are not a cat, that really isn't an option, and you explain it to him. But your explanation is interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Coming," you holler, pulling yourself to your feet and making sure you have a knife close to hand. Sei pads up, twining against your ankles, his little horns poking into your shins.
It's a plump young man at the door, backed up by an armed man. "You are… Meira as-Sayu?"
"Yes," you lie, folding your hands up your sleeves and grasping your knife handles. You taste metal. No one should know you're here; no one should know your fake name. So…
"I am here on behalf of the Ulinke."
"The… 'ulinke'?" You haven't heard the word before.
"Ulinke Fahd ah-Hakim rules here, Lady as-Sayu." Ah, you aren't familiar with the Cahzori titles. "He wishes to invite you to dinner this evening. He longs for news of the rest of Cazhor and how it has fared in the storm. We have not seen anyone from Zorpondam since the great wyldstorm."
"There is a bridge down," you tell him. "We had to take a dangerous route through a chasm to get here."
"Ah! The ulinke would like to be told of such things - as well as the news from the court of the Demio of Zorpondam, if you know it?"
You smile at him. "I have only just arrived here, so…"
"Oh, he understands. He will extend the hospitality of his citadel to you." He clears his throat. "And whether you attend or not, he wishes to know your purposes here. And the purpose which you bought quite so many armed men for."
"Look, look, the locals are out for their share of your profit," Sei purrs in High Realm. The young man doesn't say anything - perhaps he doesn't know the language.
But your familiar is right. A petty noble with his hackles up. How provincial. On one hand, you could keep things above board and tell him the partial truth, that you're looking to conduct a dig. There probably will be fees and taxes involved, which makes your skin itch. On the other hand, lying could irk him, because your expedition does look very much like one prepared for a dig. Of course, you have options open to you to get a man on side, but that might mean walking into his citadel. And you have no idea what manner of man this lord is.
If only you'd had a little more time here before he found out you were here. He must have sent his men to ask around as soon as he heard about your soldiers.
What does Rena do?
[ ] Decline the invitation. You're not going to walk into the fortress of some petty warlord. Especially if he might object to you digging up his land and plundering it. So you'll just deflect and distract for as long as possible, to try to get as much done before you have to see him.
[ ] Accept it. Of course you're not going to pass it over. And the lord of this place could be… useful. If you can get control over him, all of this will be so much easier.
What does she tell the partial truth about why she's here?
[ ] Yes. You're here for the purposes of an expedition, seeking treasure.
[ ] No. Write-in: What lie does she tell? Does she say she's just passing through? Or does she say she's hiring out mercenaries? Does she claim to be working for Amigere? Or does she say something else?
