Twenty other guards marched behind them in military formation. Dervish was up ahead, leading the way. Zoe recognized his robe, his lurching walk, his snarled gray-white hair.
The tunnel itself was rough, like animals had burrowed it. It smelled repulsive. At first, Zoe thought that it was body odor—that it was the men—then she realized it was the air itself. Her lungs didn’t want it. She covered her mouth with her arm, and took shallow breaths. The Roman saw her hyperventilating and smiled cautiously. He was trying to be reassuring, but his teeth were gray green, like tiny broken tombstones. She fought down a wave of panic.
When she was in fourth grade, Zoe tried to tunnel through a snowbank in front of her house. She wanted to impress her father, the caver. She wasn’t going to show him her tunnel until it was done. It was a secret. When he saw it, he was going to clap like crazy, and say it was freakin’ amazing. Zoe was in the yard by herself. When she made it to the middle of the snowbank, two things happened, one right after the other. The handle of her blue plastic shovel broke off—and the tunnel came down on top of her. There was a terrifying whump, followed by the scariest silence she’d ever heard. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
That’s what she felt now, that fear exactly.
Her father had been who knows where, but her mom was watching from a window. She flew out of the house without even boots on. She clawed through the snow to get to her. Zoe cried when she felt her mother’s hand on her foot.
But her mother wasn’t coming now.
Noises filled the tunnel as the Roman carried her. Insects, crazed animals, human screams—they all leaked through the walls. Zoe’s body twitched at every sound.
What the hell had she done.
Every time Zoe flinched, the giant held her tighter. Repulsed as she was, she could tell he was trying to be kind.
She remembered leaping into the portal, remembered a free fall into darkness and a violent wind shooting past. She’d braced herself to hit bottom but the bottom kept not coming. Dervish had been falling just below her. He looked up, shocked by the sight of her. He grabbed her, pulled her down, wrapped her in his robes. She fought him, even though he seemed to be trying to protect her, the way X protected her when they zoomed. When she wouldn’t stop resisting, he slid a clammy hand over her eyes—his fingernails were like claws—and she passed out.
Dervish hadn’t looked at her once since she woke. He just stalked down the tunnel, turning back only to bark at his men to keep up. His face was so gaunt that it looked like a skull. He was furious—and that gave Zoe the first stirrings of hope.
He didn’t want her here. She’d surprised him, pushed him off balance. Good. That gave her power.
Something else occurred to her now, something so small and ordinary that it took her a minute to realize its significance: her stomach was growling. She hadn’t eaten since the Cheetos and Funyuns in the gondola. She was hungry. Here in the Lowlands.
Which meant she was alive.
Zoe told herself that the Lowlands were just a massive cave—and that she understood caves. She could do this. She could survive. She’d make friends with the man who was carrying her, if she could. He couldn’t possibly be loyal to Dervish.
“What’s your name?” she whispered.
He was shocked that she’d spoken. He closed his eyes, as if praying Dervish hadn’t heard her.
But he had.
The lord spun around and clapped his hands against the Roman’s ears. The man fell forward—it was like a tree coming down—but didn’t drop Zoe, though it meant smashing his elbows against the ground.
“If she can talk,” said Dervish, “she can walk.”
The guard put Zoe down, his ears red from the blow. Zoe tried to apologize with her eyes but he was too skittish to look at her.
Zoe knew Dervish’s rage was a good sign—he was unstable, he’d make mistakes—but now she’d alienated someone who might have helped her. The Roman walked in front of her, and she saw for the first time that he had a pair of iron rods hanging from the belt on his tunic. He rested his hands on them in a way Zoe found touching: it was as if he was playing sheriff and they were his guns.
She knew she shouldn’t whisper anything else.
“I’m sorry,” she told the back of his head.
His shoulders tensed.
But Dervish didn’t turn.
“Do you have a name?” she said.
No response.
“I’m going to call you Tree,” she said.
There was a long pause—but then he nodded, as if he approved.
“Where are we going?” she said.
Tree stiffened again. No answer. She’d pushed her luck.
Tree slid the iron rods from his belt. For a second, Zoe thought he’d hit her with them. Instead, he crossed them behind his back as they walked, as if to say:
X.
Zoe followed Dervish and Tree through a dozen bends in the tunnel, the other guards marching behind. Soon, she lost track of time, like she did when she went caving. An hour slipped by, maybe two. There was no point of reference here, no sun—just torches flashing past every so often like streetlights. Zoe was exhausted. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen. And though she was dying to see X, a heavy feeling had settled into her chest, like her lungs were filling with water.
He’d be furious when he saw her—when he realized that she had endangered herself for him. What could she say in her defense, except that he’d have done the same thing for her? X wouldn’t accept that as an excuse. He didn’t believe his life was worth as much as hers.
There was a fuzzy glow up ahead, like a dandelion puff made of light. Zoe wondered if she was imagining it. But no: the tunnel brought them to a roundish cavern lit by phosphorescent rocks, which were piled like a campfire.
“Rest if you must,” Dervish told his men, then began pacing around the false fire.
The air was clearer here, and a shining curtain of water flowed down the walls. Tree and the others laid down their weapons—a wrench, a whip, a chair leg, a brick—and pressed their foreheads against the wet rock to cool themselves. They seemed to have forgotten Zoe, or at least stopped worrying about her. Where, exactly, could she run to?
She pushed her way between the men, cupped her hands, and collected some water as it ran down the rock. The first handful she dabbed on her face and neck. The second she brought to her lips. Dervish watched as he circled. When Zoe went to drink, she saw him suck in his cheeks to suppress a smile.
“No!” said Tree.
It was the first time she’d heard his voice, which sounded young and frail. Tree came over from where he’d been resting. It was amazing how long it took a person that tall to stand.
“Not safe,” he said, closing a giant hand around hers. “Not for you.”
Zoe let the water spill to the floor, and thanked him with a look.
Dervish exploded.
“YOU!” he shouted at Tree. “How many YEARS have I endured your weakness? Hand me one of your irons.”
Dervish struck Tree across the face so fast that Zoe didn’t even see the blow. Tree staggered back, his hand clasped to his cheek. He sat clumsily, drew his knees to his chest, and started to cry.
Dervish turned to Zoe.
“Anyone ELSE you would like to befriend?” he said.
Tree gave Zoe a look that said, Please don’t make this any worse. So she said nothing.
“Tell me, WHY did you follow me here?” Dervish asked her. “Did you imagine that you would rescue X—perhaps by swinging over a pit of fire on a rope?”
Zoe ignored the question. She let a moment go by.
“You said you loved somebody once,” she said. “Who was she?”
“It was not a she,” said Dervish. “It was my son.”
Zoe tried to hide her surprise.
“What was he like?” she said.
She thought maybe she could defuse his anger a little by asking.
Dervish pushed his mousy face closer to hers. She could see tiny white hairs sprouting from the giant pores on his cheek.
“Why do you inquire?” he said. “Does the answer truly interest you? Or do you imagine that talking about my son will awaken some dormant kindness in me, and inspire me to spare your beloved?”