Even though he had been persuaded by Ryer Ord Star to follow the little sweeper in search of Walker, Ahren Elessedil insisted on waiting until after dark before reentering the deadly ruins. He accepted that it was unlikely they would be attacked by creepers or fire threads if the sweeper was leading them and it probably made no difference whether it was dark or light, but he didn't care. Still firmly in the grip of his memory of the attack that had destroyed everyone with him when they had attempted an entry in daylight last time, it was all he could do to make himself go back down there at all. He must at least, he insisted, be allowed the one concession.
Ryer Ord Star had no choice but to agree since she wanted him with her; the sweeper had nothing to offer on the matter. It sat there on its wheeled base, insides whirring, keeping its images to itself. Summery and hot, the day drifted slowly away, and Ahren and Ryer took turns sleeping. Below their hiding place, the ruins sat shimmering in silence.
With the coming of nightfall, darkness settling over the land in blue-gray shadows and thinning light, they set out. The sweeper led them down out of their concealment, its wheeled base flexing on the stairs and over the rubble, scarcely making a sound as it worked its way through the perimeter and into the ruins. The seer and the Elven Prince followed, the former without hesitation, the latter with nothing but. They were barely twenty yards into the maze when the sweeper approached a wall, made a series of small clicking noises, and triggered a concealed entry. The wall slid back to reveal a dimly lit ramp leading down, and the three unlikely companions stepped within.
When the door slid shut again behind them, Ahren experienced such an attack of panic that it was all he could do to keep from crying out. He felt trapped, exposed, and helpless all at once, and he expected the fire threads and the creepers to cut him apart. But there was no attack, and they proceeded unchallenged down the ramp to a joining of corridors at a hub. Flameless lamps encased in glass spilled yellow light across the flooring in dim pools. Pipes ran along the ceilings, burrowing in and out of the walls like snakes. Sealed doors, some of them round rather than rectangular, were the only thing marring the smooth metal surfaces. Spaced evenly along each passageway, glass fish-eyes peered down at them from overhead, tiny red dots within dark centers flashing wickedly.
Ahren, his eyes peering everywhere at once, found himself regretting anew his decision; he was still bothered by their willingness to accept that the sweeper could help them. Or would, for that matter. That a machine that was at least part creeper would be anxious to help them seemed patently ridiculous. In his mind, he replayed the images the sweeper had shown them, reevaluating them, trying to get behind them to see more than he had been shown. The whole business felt wrong. He kept thinking that Ryer Ord Star would have detected any subterfuge, but the seer was so blinded by her need to reach Walker that he couldn't be sure. Even if they found the Druid, how were they supposed to help him? If he couldn't help himself, what use would they be? He thought about the missing Elfstones. If he had their magic to call upon, he might be able to do something, although even that wasn't a given, since he had never used them and had no real idea if he could.
They walked a very long way without seeming to get anywhere, the tunnels and chambers and stairways passing in endless succession, all of it looking and feeling the same. Every so often he heard machinery at work, soft and distant, muffled by steel and earth. He kept thinking they would find something new, a chamber that would reveal something important, but it never happened. On the other hand, they didn't encounter anything that threatened either. Time drifted away, and their strange descent wore on.
Finally, Ahren called a halt. They had walked for miles, and there was nothing to suggest they wouldn't walk for miles more. They needed to rest. Ryer, he felt, would keep going until she dropped. He sat down with his back against one of the metal walls and took out his water skin. The seer sat down next to him, accepting the water skin when he passed it, then a small bit of bread and cheese from the little food that remained to him. The silence of the underground passageways seemed to echo all around them, a reminder of just how alone and isolated they were.
The sweeper took up a position in the center of the corridor just in front of them, lights blinking in sleepy cadence. It did not seem to be in any hurry.
Ahren shifted himself so that he was facing the young seer. "Do you have any sense of how close we might be to Walker?"
She shook her head. "I can still feel him, but the feeling isn't any different from before."
"Nothing? But we've been walking forever. You have to be able to tell something."
"It doesn't work like that, Ahren. Distance doesn't matter. I can feel the same things whether I am very near or far away. Only the healing part has anything to do with being close. Then I have to touch the one who is in pain." She tried a quick, reassuring smile. "Don't be afraid."