Page 47 of By the Horns
They rib me about my fledgling sash, but I know it’s all in good fun. They can’t know the real reason why I’ve been busted down, so I just joke that I got caught with my hands where they shouldn’t be, and when Osprey opens his mouth to make a crass joke, I point at him and silence him before he can offend Gwenna.
Not that I think she’d be offended. It’s hard to know what will bother her and what won’t. I do know we wouldn’t be making these kinds of cracks in front of Hawk’s wife, Sparrow, or any of the women who work as nestmaids. Gwenna seems like she has a tough hide and can take ajoke, but I also know she’s alone in a tunnel with five Taurians, and that can make anyone uneasy.
The rocks don’t crumble as we pull them free, and the ceiling’s collapse isn’t nearly as bad as we thought it could be. The farther we dig, the more the rocks turn into what look like old bricks, common for the endless ruins in the tunnels. Sure enough, once the broken bricks are cleared away, the cause of the cave-in is determined—a new shaft has opened above, the now-removed ceiling leading into what looks like another open chamber. It’s a siren call to an artificer, and all of us are eager to explore. “Could be something good up there,” Gyrfalcon says. “If someone wants to lift me up, I can take a look.”
“Can’t,” Hawk says. “Our orders are for clearing the tunnel alone. Excavating and artifact hunting are for the team that comes in after us.”
“You’re no fun.”
“It’s because I’m in charge. You don’t get to be fun when you’re in charge.”
I chuckle at that, and glance back at Gwenna. She’s still holding the oil lamp in place, the canteens at her feet. At my attention, she gives me a small, seemingly distracted smile. Maybe she’s growing tired. We’ve been here for a while now, and a Taurian’s strength is many times greater than a human’s, especially one with a smaller stature like her. “Let’s save the fun for some other time,” I drawl, turning back to the others. “Some of us want to get dinner soon.”
We finish clearing. Osprey shuts down the portal and thanks the repeater on the other side, and the last of the water is drunk, the empty canteens handed back to Gwenna. My stomach rumbles and I stretch, trying not to seem too obvious as I check on my human companion. Is that sweat on her brow? “Can we take off?” I ask Hawk. “We need to check in with the rest of our Five.”
It’s a lie—I couldn’t care less if Arrod and Hemmen fall off a cliff, and Kipp won’t worry about us. But I can’t shake the feeling that I need to get Gwenna out of here.
Hawk nods, studying the walls of the cleared tunnel ahead of us. “I’m going to stay behind and make sure things are stable before heading up.”
“I’ll join you,” Osprey tells him, and the others don’t look as if they’re ready to go just yet. Likely they’re going to pressure Hawk to explorethat new cavern the moment we leave, but I don’t care. I can’t get paid for a discovery like that anyhow.
I take the oil lamp from Gwenna and hand it to Osprey. She’s got the empty canteens around her neck again, her hand pressed to one of them as if to hold it in place.
“Do we need to see our way out?” she asks, voice shaky.
“I can guide us back to the drop point,” I tell her. “Do you need the light? Are you frightened?”
“I’m all right. I just don’t want to get lost.”
“I can hold your hand,” I offer. “Or you can hold on to my belt. Just not the tail. Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea.”
My joke doesn’t land. She reaches forward, feeling for my arm in the low light, and then clasps my hand tightly in her sweaty one.
“Come on,” I tell her, keeping my voice soothing with encouragement. “It’s been years since I’ve been lost, and this tunnel’s so basic even Hemmen could navigate it.”
That earns a small, trembling laugh from her.
We head for the drop, the long, wide tunnel echoing with the clop of my hooves on stone. Gwenna is silent, her hand tightly clutching mine, and I wonder at what’s bothering her. The dark? The tunnels? Some students can’t hack being underground. Given that she’s been in the tunnels in the past and never voiced complaint, I didn’t think it would bother her. Spiders?
Or is she still rattled from yesterday’s search?
“You want to talk about it?” I ask her in the darkness.
“No.”
“I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“I also just said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a faint wink of light up ahead from the tunnel shaft, and I gesture to it despite the darkness. “We’re almost there.”
She doesn’t respond, but her hand clenches tighter around mine. She continues to hold on to me as I jerk the bell chain to let the person above know that we need a ride. When the basket drops to our level, we get into the lift. I let go of her hand to ring the bell to let him know we need to go up, and the entire thing sways wildly due to the imbalance in ourweights. She clutches at the side of the basket with both hands, and I can smell her fear-sweat.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, bracing my hooves. “I just need to move toward the center. Happens all the time with a Taurian in a lift….”
It’s then that I notice her hands. Both are rigidly clutching the side of the basket lift, and one is covered in blood that she’s smearing all over the side of the basket.
Twenty-Three
