One foot passed over the threshold. Then the other.
And suddenly, there was a rip, a roar, and a crash. Mouse screamed and fell back, her voice lost in the screams of the other priestesses and acolytes, of the Netherworld spirits around them. For the doorway to the chamber had broken, and the carved stone fell, dragging chunks of the wall with it. The cacophony was too loud for the cries of the eunuchs and the high priestess buried within to be heard.
Mouse, fallen to her hands and knees, was kicked and stepped on as the women fled, their torches flashing and vanishing in the panic. Soon she would be lost in utter darkness, alone in the Netherworld. All her plans to grab Halisa and flee into the Diggings were for nothing! Had it too been buried under the broken doorway? Would the Dragonwitch, disappointed again, send more slaves to die as they dug it out once more?
“There you are, Mousy. I thought you’d be close.”
Mouse startled as the familiar stench of the old scrubber’s breath filled her nostrils. She felt her hand grasped and something pressed into it. Something heavy, with a leather grip, that she recognized immediately even though she had never before held its like.
“Fireword!”
“Take it,” said the scrubber. “Take it and run. Find the Smallman, for though he is lost, he still has a purpose to fulfill.”
Mouse gripped the sword in both hands, feeling she must keel over from the weight of it. A silver light ran faintly along its blade, revealing the eyes of the old man. And in that light, other things became suddenly clear as well.
Mouse turned to the wreckage of the doorway, the pile of rubble. “Are they alive?” she cried.
“They’re inside,” said the scrubber. “As alive as they’ve ever been.”
“I must get them out!”
“No, child,” said the scrubber. His voice was firm but sad. “You must find the Smallman. Do you hear me?”
By the light of the sword, Mouse stared at broken stone. High priestess! She wanted to scream at the pile, to drive the sword into it, to tear it down. Mistress! Was she there, did she still breathe?
“Mother,” she whispered.
The scrubber’s hand touched her shoulder. “They’re not dead,” he said. “They’re living the same death of a life they’ve embraced since the beginning. But you cannot stay here. Live, child. Live as you have never lived before. Take the sword to my heir and see your people freed!”
“What about you?” Tears clogged Mouse’s throat. “What about the Dragonwitch?”
“I’ll take care of the Dragonwitch,” said the scrubber. “Never you fear. Now go!”
Mouse ran. She fled into the Diggings without direction, without a Path, but she held Halisa in both hands, and the darkness kept its distance. Around her she could hear screams. The priestesses and acolytes wandered the Diggings in unprotected fear. Like the Diggers they had sent to perish at the goddess’s command, they lost their way. Tears stained Mouse’s face. They were her sisters! They were blind, and they were foolish.
They were like her.
She gripped the sword, wondering how she managed to carry it, for it should be far too heavy. But the blade gleamed, lighting a Path at her feet, and she followed without question. “Where is the Chronicler?” she whispered. “Where is the heir?”
“Mouse!”
She turned at the sound of her name, staring into the darkness beyond the sword’s light. “Eanrin?” she called, her voice tentative.
“Wait! Wait right there!” called the familiar golden voice.
Mouse planted her feet, and soon two figures appeared in the ring of light around her. “Silent Lady!” Mouse cried, recognizing the woman beside Eanrin. “You’re free!”
“Dragon’s teeth, girl, don’t make such noise,” Eanrin said, his face ferocious in Halisa’s glow. “It’s killing my nerves, all this screaming and shouting.”
Imraldera gently squeezed Mouse’s shoulder. The friendly gesture was enough to make Mouse weep, but she swallowed her tears. “You have Halisa,” Imraldera said, gazing in wonder at the weapon that she had never before seen but about which she had written more than a hundred documents.
“How did you get it?” Eanrin demanded.
Scarcely able to draw breath, Mouse explained what had happened, the breaking of the doorway arch, the burying of the high priestess and the eunuch warriors. “They’re trapped!” she said. “He gave me the sword, told me to run, then left me, and they’re trapped in the dark!”
“That sounds about like Etanun,” Eanrin growled.
“Don’t, Eanrin,” Imraldera said and turned to Mouse. “We’ll get them out. Can you lead us to them?”
But even as Mouse nodded, Eanrin scowled. “What are you talking about? We must find the Smallman so he can gather all his impish might and slay our foe, remember?”