Page 130 of Devil's Doom

I want to ask her more, but Rada picks that moment to ask Lech if it’s truly safe to go out.

“Yes,” he says, putting his hand on the small of her back to get us moving. “The master went out earlier to deal with the dragons. We’ll have complete freedom in the city today, though I imagine once Perun hears about this, he’ll come with storms and thunder. But by then, we’ll be back here, hidden where he can’t reach.”

Yes,wewill. What about the people who live in the city? I leave my thoughts to myself and resolve to see what happens. Maybe I’m reading too much into innocent things.

Everyone is so happy, chatting animatedly and laughing out loud. It’s such a stark contrast to the morose, defeated air of yesterday, and I can’t help but be glad.

I understand why Woland jumped on the chance to let the rebels out. He said yesterday he’s losing his people after yet another defeat, and giving them something they’ll enjoy is the perfect way to lift their spirits. I’m still not convinced it’s entirely safe. Since Perun moves freely between oak trees, he’ll probably come here as soon as he gets a whiff of trouble.

Or maybe not. I’ve lived through two rebel attacks in Slawa, and not once did Perun make an appearance in person. Maybe he doesn’t care. Or he’s too busy with other conquests.

A shiver goes down my spine. Lech said Perun’s in the mortal world. Whatever he’s doing, it can’t be good, and I should make my decision soon. At least, I’m down to only two choices.

Either trust Woland—or seek out Weles.

The line keeps moving, a group going out every two minutes or so. I suspect it’s to keep the entrance into the tunnels hidden. If a crowd of people came out from the building all at once, it would look suspicious.

Not everyone seems to understand it. When an upir woman goes up to the strzyga and asks her rudely to move faster, she throws her into the back of the cavern with a flick of her wrist.

“If you don’t like the pace I set, you’re free to use the other exits. Don’t bother me again.”

I know there are other entrances into the tunnels strewn around the city, and I suspect they might be used today, as well. This one is the most popular, though, coming out the closest to the center of the city, where most taverns and shops are.

“Behave, consort,” Wera tells me, her milky eyes narrowed with disapproval, when it’s our turn to leave. “All of you, come back before sundown.”

We climb the stairs, the muffled sounds of those who went before us coming from higher up. When we finally reach the empty house on top, Lutowa fidgets with excitement while Lech checks the street before telling us it’s safe to go.

As soon as we’re out, she twirls in place, her arms stretched wide. It’s snowing, big, fluffy snowflakes glittering in the ripe winter sunlight. The bieda catches them on her tongue, laughing, and my heart pangs with guilt and the need to do something.

She’s so happy, just being out. I want her to be happy all the time.

“Can we visit the milk bar?” Rada says, her smile wide and happy. She’s been cooped up in the tunnels for weeks, and it’s her first time out. She doesn’t seem nervous, for which I’m glad.

“I wouldn’t go there today,” Lutowa says with a beaming smile, going to the edge of the ravine to look down at the frozen river. “The mamunas will be busy with rebel customers.”

She laughs, and there is a nasty edge to it. I give her a sharp look, but she’s already running down the street toward the city center. Lech waves us along.

“Come on. The sun goes down in a few hours. We don’t have much time.”

I spell all of our shoes to stay warm and resist slipping as we go. Lech has his arm around Rada’s shoulders, his shirt open at the collar under his unbuttoned jacket. He whistles happily. When Lutowa reaches the bridge, she stops and waves at us impatiently.

“Come on! I want to eat!”

I snort under my breath. “Really? She’s eating all the time.”

“But what else can you do in the city?” Lech asks, shrugging nonchalantly. “You can eat, dance, and fuck. Maybe get some new clothes or jewelry if you feel fancy. Everything is provided for us in the tunnels thanks to magic, so being out here is about other things.”

When we reach Lutowa, sounds of fighting and dishes breaking come from a nearby tavern. I know this one, and it has a reputation for being a clean, respectable place. It’s called “Under the Temple”, since the walls of Perun’s grove rise higher up the mountain, almost on top of the tavern.

“What’s going on?” I mutter under my breath, heading that way.

“Not here, all the food will be gone,” Lutowa whines, but I ignore her. The sense of wrongness I had when she spoke about the milk bar grows sharper.

I go into the tavern, my companions following me, Lutowa with a grumble of impatience. No sooner than the door closes behind us, a clay mug smashes against the wall. I put up a shield and watch in disbelief.

The wide, brightly lit space is filled with rebels. I recognize people I know from the tunnels, kobolds, upirs, and chochols, and they fight each other, throwing chairs and cups of beer. The noise is deafening, shouts and curses mixing with sounds of destruction.

Most of the furniture is broken, and the owner, Milen, who is a kind, upstanding chochol, stands in the back of the room, cringing and wringing his hands. He looks petrified. A serving girl comes out from the door to the kitchen, stops in her tracks, and whirls around to go back, a tray of food in her hands.

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