“We’ll have lunch,” Alric announced. “Myron, come up here, will you?”
Royce, Alric, and Myron spoke together for several minutes while Arista sat on some stone, absently eating strips of smoked beef and exhausting her jaws in the attempt. Ibis had sent full meals, but she was in no mood. The chewing gave her something to do besides walking over there.
She turned away to see Elden staring at her. He looked away bashfully, pretending to search in his pack for something.
“Don’t mind him, my lady,” Wyatt said. “Or should I address you as Your Highness?”
“You can call me Arista,” she said, and watched his eyes widen.
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He shrugged. “Okay, then, Arista.” He spoke the word gingerly. “Elden here, he doesn’t get out much, and when he has, it’s been on board ships where there aren’t any women. I suspect you’re the first lady he’s seen up close in—well, as long as I’ve known him. And I’m sure you’re the only noblewoman he’s ever seen.”
She touched her matted hair and the robe that hung on her like a smock. “Not a very good example, I’m afraid. I’m not exactly Lady Lenare Pickering, am I? I’m not even the best-looking princess here. My horse takes that title. Her name is Princess.” She smiled.
Wyatt looked at her, puzzled. “You sure don’t speak like a noblewoman. I mean, you do—but you don’t.”
“That’s very coherent, Mr. Deminthal.”
“There, you see? Those are the words of a princess—putting me in my place with eloquence and grace.”
“As well she should,” Hadrian said, appearing beside her. “Do I need to keep an eye on you?” he asked Wyatt.
“I thought you were his bodyguard.” He pointed at Gaunt, who remained on the wagon with the dwarf, their lunches resting on the bench between them.
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?”
“What did Royce find?” Arista asked.
“Tracks, but they’re old.”
“What kind of tracks?”
“Ghazel—probably a scouting party. Looks like King Fredrick was right about the flood. But we are still a ways from Vilan Hills. I’m surprised they are scouting out this far.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “And Alric has Myron and Royce trying to find the entrance?”
“Yep, they’re looking for a river. Hall’s book tells of a river flowing into a hole.”
“What about the tracks?”
“What about them?”
“Have you followed them?”
“They’re too old to be a threat. Royce guesses they were made more than a week ago.”
“Maybe they aren’t from Vilan Hills. The Patriarch said Ghazel were in Percepliquis. Follow the tracks… They might lead to the entrance. And get Magnus off the wagon. Isn’t he supposed to be an expert at finding underground passages?”
Hadrian stared at her stupidly. “You’re absolutely right.” He started to return to the others.
“Hadrian?” She stopped him.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t tell Alric I said anything. Say it was your idea.”
He looked confused for a second, then said, “Oh—right.” He nodded with sympathy. Hadrian started to climb the hill, then waved at Wyatt. “Com’on, sailor, you can help look too.”
“But I’m still—”
Hadrian gave him a smirk.
“Okay, okay. Excuse me, my lady—ah—Arista.”
The two climbed to the top of the hill and disappeared over the rise. Elden came over and sat beside her. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small bit of wood, holding it out in his huge palm. It was a figurine, deftly carved in the shape of a woman. She took it and, upon closer inspection, realized it was her. The detail was perfect, right down to her messy hair and Esrahaddon’s robe.
“For you,” she heard him whisper.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
Elden nodded; then, standing up slowly, he moved off to sit by himself.
Arista held the statuette in her fingers, wondering when he had found time to make it. She tried to determine whether he had whittled in the saddle or carved it the night before while the rest of them were eating dinner.
Myron left the top of the hill and Arista waved him over.
“So what does Mr. Hall have to say about how he got in?”
Myron smiled comically. “Not a lot that is of much help. Although, he did have some nice diagrams that showed the ruins, so we are in the right place. As for getting in, all he said was that he went into a hole. From his accounts, it was really deep. He started climbing down and fell. A nasty fall by the sound of it too. His handwriting afterwards was shaky and he only bothered to write short sentences: Fell in a hole. No way out. The pile! They eat everything! Cyclone of darkness. River running. Stars. Millions. Crawling, crawling, crawling. They eat everything.”
Arista sneered. “Doesn’t sound all that pleasant, does it?”
“It gets worse,” he said. “Down near the underground sea, just before he reached the city, he encountered the Ba Ran Ghazel, but that wasn’t the worst of it. He actually made it to the great library when—”
A whistle sounded.