Page 49 of Shadows of Winter

Kaylina pulled out her sling again. She couldn’t attack a statue, but she would have no trouble pelting a thief or pirate.

Would she attack one of the Virts though? Someone from the working class fighting for better conditions in the factories? Even if their methods were illegal—and deadly—she had a hard time condemning them fully. She let herself fall a few steps behind Vlerion.

They passed a deep alcove with a Kar’ruk statue guarding a squat stone sarcophagus against the back wall. The eyes on the statue didn’t light up, nor did it emit steam. Vlerion went by without commenting on what triggering its defenses might once have done.

He paused at the end of the tunnel, prodding broken boards lying on the ground. A wooden frame had been built against the stone wall, and more broken boards thrust out of it, nails bent or jutting out.

“Last week,” Vlerion said softly, forgoing his no-speaking rule again, “this was barricaded.”

“So whoever delivered those crates came through this way?” Kaylina hadn’t seen any other exits along the way.

“They must have. They could intend to use the castle as a staging area for an attack.” Vlerion leaned around the corner into the lit area.

His broad torso blocked Kaylina’s view. She resisted the urge to crouch and peer under his armpit or jump to see over his shoulder, but her curiosity made restraint difficult.

Vlerion looked back at her. “You may return to your work. I did not want to endanger you, only for you to see what goes on down here so you would understand the threat—and perhaps drag heavy furniture onto the trapdoor in the pantry.” He stepped aside to give her a view.

The tunnel opened into a natural grotto around a large pool with a placid river flowing away through a wide passageway on the far end. An ancient clay pipe jutting from under the mouth of a stone lion poured water in from the opposite end. A pathway carved in stone ran around the pool, passing a stubby wooden dock built near the river.

All around the grotto, torches burned in wall sconces, the flames reflecting yellowish-orange on the surface of the water. The dock held stacks of crates and kegs, as well as a sack slumped open to reveal thick books inside. How odd to find reading material among explosives.

“There’s enough black powder there to destroy half the city,” Vlerion said grimly.

“And instructions on how to use it?” Kaylina leaned past him, squinting in an attempt to read the titles on the book spines. Did one say recipes? Surely, a bunch of rebels weren’t toting cookbooks along on their campaign of destruction.

Vlerion eyed her, and she reined in her curiosity and leaned back.

“The Virts know well how to employ their explosives.” His tone was disdainful, but his eyebrows crimped as another expression entered his eyes. Pain? Loss? Regret? If his duty was to fight the Virts, he’d probably lost comrades to them.

“Then those must be romantic adventures to keep them entertained when their buddies can’t muster scintillating conversation.”

“That is doubtless what they are.” Vlerion surveyed the river passageway, the stone walkway continuing past the pool and down it on one side.

Since it was less than a foot wide, it would be easy to fall in. The Virts probably carried their munitions up in boats.

“I must stay and deal with them. You will return to the castle.” After a moment’s hesitation, Vlerion bowed his head to her. “I should not have brought you down here. I didn’t expect criminals to be in the middle of unloading cargo.”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“They must also have broken through the barrier Targon’s men placed between the end of that river and the harbor where it flows out underwater. There’s supposed to be a ranger’s apprentice keeping watch on that area. I hope he hasn’t been killed.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help?” Kaylina held up her sling. “Given how much cargo we’ve seen, there could be a lot of guys.”

“I will be able to handle them sufficiently without the assistance of a neophyte rock thrower,” Vlerion said dryly. And insultingly.

One minute he was decent… and then got haughty.

“They’re lead balls.” Wishing he would need her help and that she could save his ass, Kaylina bared her teeth at him the way the taybarri had. Except with more fierceness.

“Go back to safety,” he ordered, undeterred by her teeth-baring. It had to be her lack of fangs.

“The safety of the cursed castle? That place is at least as creepy and dangerous as these catacombs. Poison-spitting statues notwithstanding.”

Vlerion hesitated again. “Since you are not a ranger, and the curse hasn’t bothered you yet, you may not be in danger there.”

The curse hadn’t bothered her? Kaylina balked at that notion but wondered if he meant it hadn’t killed her.

“In the visions, we saw it murder people who weren’t rangers. There was a girl serving a tankard of ale to one of your people, and she got killed. Horribly.” Kaylina almost mentioned the gaunt man who’d been strangled in the forest—the preserve Vlerion had spoken of?—but realized that might have been a ranger who hadn’t been in his armor.

---