Page 89 of Ashes of Gold
“You’ll know you’re in the right spot because when you descend, it’ll split into two tunnels. The eurostarum is going to be somewhere along one of those. I can’t remember which one.”
“Be careful,” Grag warns. “You can stumble down the wrong corridor and find who knows what.”
“I would leave him, as well, Jelani,” Zora says, nodding at Julius.
His eyes flick to me.
“No offense,” she adds.
“He sticks with me,” I say. I haven’t forgotten what the Seer said. Julius is my extra eyes and ears, but I still have to keep him safe. “Bri, stick close to me. And keep your gadgets at the ready.”
She nods, her jaw set with determination. “I won’t freeze up this time.”
“And please give Jue another dose of that Defense Boost, just in case.” I have no idea how that potion works or how long it takes towear off. She digs in her bag as I turn to face a crowd of a hundred or more Macazi. Taavi’s eyes are saucers, and even the Seer tries to sit up on her cart to hear what I have to say. The lines in her face suggest she knows something is awry.
“Slight change of plans. You all will take cover in the forest outside Yiyo, where we will cast a spell at High Moon.” I expect an echo of groans, but see only head nods. It makes me queasy.
“Be careful with them, please,” I say to Zora.
“I will. We should arrive by dusk if we hit no snags.”
Yeah, if.
“The Mother would be proud.” Zora squeezes my hand. “You’re doing a good job.”
I feign a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I guess we’re about to see.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ZORA, TAAVI, AND THEMacazi disappear toward Yiyo. When they’re out of sight, Jue, Bri, and I head south, toward Quake Street. Julius’s hands are stuffed in his pockets, like he understands how serious this shit is, I guess. He’s not even wearing his fedora anymore. Something ’bout it being impossible to keep clean. His poor shoes are still fragments of what they were, but I promised him if we make it out of here alive, I find a way to buy him some new ones.
We pass shells of homes in abandoned neighborhoods, desecrated buildings, boarded-up shops, and on the front step of a government building, a pile of bones with giantLs painted on them. Zora said they didn’t look human, but still. The message is clear. The Loyalists intend to see the Chancellor back in power, whatever it takes.
“It’s too quiet out here,” Julius says.
I feel it too.
But, despite the horror and fearing we’ll be discovered as we round each corner, the trip is kind. We make it within a hundred yards of Quake with no more than sore calves and feet. The area is covered in fresh-fallen debris; some rotting smell lingers in the air.
The intersection Zora’d hipped us to is on the edge of the street where Bon and his band used to sit out and play for coins. This street used to be a tapestry of music, spicy sweet smells, and bright jewel tones graffitied all over buildings. Now the colors on the walls have faded, much more than even age explains. As if Patrol took a torch to this block. How can one person be filled with so much hate? Wind whips through shutters of a building that used to ring with life.
I spot the rim of a raised door in the ground. The access point is barely distinguishable in the cracked, paved sidewalk.
“What we walking into, fam? Gimme the scoop.” Julius is always cool as a cucumber, but I catch his eyes darting around, his hands tugging at the loop on his jeans.
“What, you scared?” I tease, running a palm over the ground, feeling for a hook or insert, some sort of handle.
“Never that.” He rubs his hands together and I can see his muscles flex beneath his zip-up. I avert my gaze quickly. My fingers curve into a divot and I tug, lifting the door.
“Hurry.” I lower myself inside the tunnel and they follow. The iron door slams into place when he slides it closed.
The labyrinth of tunnels underground is more daunting than I remember. The air hangs with dirt from the floor, like someone just rolled through. The walls are lined with fire orbs. Who keeps them lit, I wonder. The thought slithers over me and I shudder. Something tells me these passageways are well known and used.
Looming behind me are two brittle archways. Both with worn paths. Two tunnels, like Zora’d said. One glows with blue light in the orbs on the wall and the other is completely dark.
“Uhm… let’s try this way,” I say, stepping toward the blue-lit corridor.
Bri holds out her device as we stalk through the darkness. The farther we go, the more the lights dim. Julius’s breath is heavy next to me. I make out his profile in the darkness, slivers of blue light sloping around his full lips, his heavyset brow. What would he say if I told him about Jhamal?
