Page 100 of Lake of Sorrow

In what she had read, the rangers always rode the taybarri into danger so that they faced it together, but the shaft wasn’t high enough for that.

Not glancing at her, Levitke growled again. After a few more sniffs, she padded into the shaft, her head almost brushing an earthen ceiling supported by timbers.

Kaylina followed her about ten feet in, thinking the long taybarri would have a hard time turning around if the way grew narrower, but if their species had originated burrowing tunnels, maybe such matters didn’t concern them.

Someone had hammered nails into the wooden supports for the shaft, making hooks for lights. Most were empty, but a couple dented lanterns remained. Kaylina opened the cache of one, found that it had kerosene, and used her flame to light it. The next couple of lanterns were empty, but she didn’t necessarily want to illuminate the entire shaft anyway. Just enough to help her find… whatever she could down here.

About twenty yards in, she and Levitke reached large alcoves carved out of either side of the shaft, the walls made more from stone than dirt.

To the left, stacks of rusty mining equipment rested, as well as crates that appeared newer. Crates that held newspapers to be transported to the city? Or blank paper for printing them?

Since Levitke had poked her head into the alcove on the right, Kaylina couldn’t see much, but something metal reflected the yellow flame of her lantern light.

“Did you find the printing press?”

Levitke shifted around so that she could back up and make room for Kaylina to see into the alcove. Yes, there was a press, as well as a desk with a journal open on top, the page full of writing.

“So… where’s the press operator?” Kaylina looked to Levitke, wondering if the taybarri would growl at a Virt or if something more dangerous lurked in the mine.

Levitke wasn’t looking at the press. Her snout pointed deeper into the tunnel, nostrils flaring as she tested the air.

The mining shaft sloped downward, disappearing into darkness. An army could have been down there—or a pack of yekizar—and Kaylina wouldn’t have known.

After a few more sniffs, Levitke padded deeper into the shaft.

Being left alone made Kaylina nervous, but she wanted to check the journal. She trusted the taybarri would warn her if an enemy approached.

Letters had been set on the press but only a few rows. It was as if someone had started on the next day’s newspaper and then been interrupted.

She set her lantern on the press, reading backward to interpret what it would have printed once ink was applied. The first few words sent a chill through her.

Irrefutable evidence has been discovered to affirm that the ranger Lord Vlerion, from the cursed Havartaft line, turns into a beast by night and slays innocent beings in the city. The king and the rangers know of his secret and protect him. Perhaps they even send him to do their bidding, as they did during the Castle Massacre. It’s possible the aristocracy has long been using the deadly beast to get rid of the righteous and virtuous, any who oppose their oppressive rule. The king and the rangers must be held accountable, and the evil Lord Vlerion must be hanged before he can take another life. He?—

“What?” Kaylina blurted at the unfinished sentence. No further words had been set.

Whirling, she grabbed the journal to see if it held the rest of the story or had the name of the person reporting it. The information wasn’t all accurate—night wasn’t what caused Vlerion to change—but it held enough truth to be dangerous. Very dangerous. Soon, Vlerion might find himself being hunted as assiduously as she.

Her hands shook as she opened the journal and held the last page with writing to the light. It was the same story. The typesetter had been copying it verbatim. It continued on to promise that only by slaying Vlerion and shining sunlight on the corrupt ranger organization would the murders stop and the Virts be victorious in overthrowing the tyrannical regime.

When she flipped to earlier pages, she found the stories that had already been printed. As with this one, they’d been copied word for word. This story might have shown up as early as the next day, if the press operator hadn’t been interrupted.

Where was the press operator?

Kaylina looked around, but Levitke hadn’t returned. She wondered if a wagon of Virts would arrive in the middle of the night, expecting stacks of newspapers to have been printed.

“If it does, I’ll be here waiting for them.”

The other wagon had only had one sleepy driver. Maybe she could handle him, questioning him or even forcing him to turn himself in to the ranger in the watchtower.

She flipped back through the journal, looking for a name. Was it that Hokkens that Mitzy and the other Virts had mentioned? The man who’d seen Vlerion change in the dungeon?

The author wasn’t named anywhere in the journal, so she had no idea where the journalist had gotten his or her irrefutable evidence, but would it matter? There was enough truth to the story that the citizens who read it might believe it all.

“And try to kill Vlerion,” she whispered.

She closed the journal and held it to her chest. Maybe it wouldn’t do much, since whoever had written on the pages could do so again, but taking it might help delay things a few days. It would give her time to…

“To what?” She couldn’t return to the city to help Vlerion without risking herself.

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