I drop her. “You go first,” I say. “I’ll follow.”
Casamir lunges for the rope. I grab her collar and pull her back. “We stick close,” I say. I untangle the rope I was using as a belt and knot my wrist to Casamir’s, leaving enough slack to ensure we can climb up together.
“This really isn’t necessary,” Casamir says.
“I’ll release it when we get up,” I say.
Das Muni is puttering around me, humming softly. “I can’t get up,” she says.
I haven’t considered that part until now, and I feel some guilt about that. Of course she can’t get up, not with how weak she is; not on those little legs, with her crooked back and clawed hands.
“We’ll pull you up after,” I say.
She ceases her puttering and gazes up at me with big glassy eyes. I have to look away. She doesn’t believe I’ll take her with me. She thinks I’ll leave her here.
As Casamir grabs hold of the rope, I glance back once at little wretched Das Muni and think about how much easier it will be to go on without her. Casamir is stronger and clearly knows the surface. Das Muni isn’t even from this world.
I crawl up after Casamir. The rope is slicker than I anticipated, and I’m not as fit as I imagined. I move painfully, slowly. Casamir has to pause and wait for me. The line between us is stretched taut.
Finally, Casamir takes hold of the lip of the seam in the sky above us and pulls herself over. I get up one more knot, and then my strength gives out. I’m an arm’s length from the top. I cling hard to the knotted rope, arms shaking. I take deep breaths, willing my strength to return.
Casamir peers over the top. Her gaze goes from her wrist to mine and the long thread that binds us. If I fall, she will too. She touches the knot at her wrist. I grit my teeth. She’ll untie it, and I’ll be stuck here, too weak to ascend. I worried she would pull the rope up after her if we weren’t bound on the way up, but of course that would mean nothing once we made it to the top. She can cut the line and run off now.
I meet her look and firm my jaw to still my trembling face. My whole body is shaking now. I have an animal fear of showing weakness. But I am weak, and she sees it.
Then she reaches down, and I brace for her to cut the rope or untie us, but she grabs my wrist instead.
“Up, now,” she says, and she grins. There’s a halo of flickering light above her, whiter light than that below, and I love her a little in that moment, the coy grin, the strong arm, the short, messy sweep of hair brushed back from her forehead, the easy decision to offer a hand instead of cut it off.
I let out my breath and grip her wrist with my bad hand and squeeze. She pulls while I push on the knot below me.
I slide up over the lip of the jagged rent in the floor and try to catch my breath. Casamir slumps beside me. Grins again. I can see the whites of her eyes in the dim glow. For a moment, I think the room is lined in something bioluminescent, like the recycling pit below us, but the lights are moving, flitting along the walls. They are a flying creature of some kind.
Casamir follows my look. “Moths,” she says. “There’s proper lights farther on. Closer to town. Come up. You’ll need to help me get that friend of yours up.”
I call down at Das Muni, “Tie yourself up in the end of that rope and hold on! We’ll pull you up.”
From this height, surrounded in the brighter light of the moths, I can’t see Das Muni at all. I squint and ask Casamir, “How do you safely get down there without getting eaten?”
“You just pause along the way,” she says. “Let your eyes adjust. Plus, I bring snacks.”
“Snacks?”
“For the meaties.”
“The meaties? Recycler monsters?”
“Recycler?” Casamir repeats the word a few times, as if trying to get a taste for it. “Yes,” she says.
I yell back down at Das Muni, “Are you secure? I can’t see you.” I tug on the rope and feel resistance. “Das Muni?”
I hear a squeal. I jerk on the rope again. “Help me,” I tell Casamir.
She takes the rope behind me, and together we pull. “Das Muni!” I yell.
More squealing. I hear “Meatmoth!”
I pull faster. She isn’t heavy, but my muscles are already spent. I hear a roar: the fearful cry of those terrible recycler monsters. My skin prickles.
The pulling takes an age. Das Muni’s squealing continues, high and warbling. I can see the top of her head.
I release the rope with my good hand and reach for Das Muni’s arm.
She turns her head up to me, and in the light of the moths, I can see her clearly for the first time.
Das Muni’s face is flat and angular, and though it is smeared in heavy grit, I can see that her eyes are enormous, twice as large as anyone’s I’ve seen. Her cowl has fallen off her head, and I can see her hair is stringy white, but she is not old. Her skin, though paler than mine and Casamir’s, is unmarked. Her ears stick out from her narrow little head like great leaves, nearly as large as her small hands. She is skinny and pallid and clearly unlike anyone else I’ve seen in this world, even Casamir, who is squat and round and broad in the face, freckled though it is.
I jerk my hand away. It’s an unconscious movement, but it happens, and she sees it. Her expression is so sorrowful, my heart clenches. I grab her wrist. I turn my face away from her as she heaves herself up. Casamir helps, and between the two of us, we get her into the corridor.
Another roar sounds from below us. Das Muni grabs me and holds tight. She is a hot, bony mess of a thing and I find myself thinking of insects.
“You’re all right,” I say, but I can see in her face that she knows I don’t believe that.
“I NEVER THOUGHT I’D NEED ANYONE’S HELP TO COMPLETE THE CONVERSION OF THE MOKSHI TO A FREE WORLD. BUT INDEPENDENCE IS ONE OF THE GREATEST DELUSIONS OF YOUTH.”
—LORD MOKSHI, ANNALS OF THE LEGION
19
ZAN
Casamir picks up a lantern from the floor and shakes it. The moths inside flutter, emitting soft light. I see that the lantern is made of bone and organic green mesh.
“This way,” Casamir says.
Das Muni and I follow Casamir through the low tunnel.
“It opens up here,” Casamir says. “Stay close to me. Stay in the light.”
“Why?” I say.
“It’s dangerous outside the light,” Casamir says.
I move toward her. Das Muni’s fingers dig into my flesh. Her nails are long and ragged.
“Creatures?” I say. “Like the monsters down there?”
“Huh?” Casamir says. “No, it’s just that the walls aren’t as solid in the dark.”
“What?” I say, because I think I’ve misheard her.
“Just stay close,” Casamir says.
“Where are you going?” I say. “We need to go up to the next level. I fell a long way. There could be dozens of levels between me and the surface.”
“Yes, yes,” Casamir says. “Let me take you to the conclave first. They can help.”