The Eye Of God Part 11

"Emeric, don't act so shy. Anyway, I prefer women. I want him to remain untouched for now," Zurach said. Terin held his breath.

"Don't lie, Zurach. It's unbecoming. We're very similar, you and me. That said, he's your slave. I've enough of my own, I a.s.sure you."

Both men laughed and Zurach clapped Terin's shoulder hard enough that he staggered forward. He took the chance to step out of the reach of both Citizens.

"I'll be expected at the palace tomorrow in the early afternoon. Stay here for tonight, and I'll guide you to the manor proper in the morning. Don't take any chances," Emeric said.

"No chances," Zurach promised.

"I'll send a slave down tonight with food and drink. You know what you need to do. Have fun with her first if you'd like. I need to get back in case I'm called on."

"Don't bother with the slave. I think we'll survive for the night," Zurach replied, laughter in his voice. "I'd rather have her when I have the time and privacy to deal with her properly."

"Your loss," Emeric said. "I'll send one of the servants, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

Terin fidgeted under the scrutiny of the two brothers, and he stared down at a crack crossing one of the marble tiles. The thud of feet faded away.

Zurach let out a low, gusty sigh. "Well, he hasn't changed a bit. Time for you to get bathed and in proper clothes, boy. Move it!"

Before Zurach's outstretched hand could touch him, Terin hurried to the bath, clutching at the box to keep from dropping it.

The man laughed.

Zurach's snores thundered, and curling up with his hands clapped over his ears didn't let Terin sleep. The darkness smothered him, so deep that he couldn't make out the outline of the cushion he rested on. He stretched and his hand thumped against the divan's armrest. Mumbling curses, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He whispered the Speech to summon light and a rosy aura enveloped his hand to illuminate the sitting room.

Zurach sprawled on the divan across the room, and one of the man's arms dangled off the side, his fingers limp against the marble floor. The rest of him was curled in a tight ball, face hidden in the shadows.

Another snore burst out of the man, so loud Terin flinched and stuck his fingers in his ears in the futile effort of drowning out the noise. The box gleamed in the red light from his hand. Zurach snorted and the snores settled to a softer rumble. Terin lowered his hands from his ears and reached for the box, setting it across his lap. Trailing his glowing fingers across the smooth surface, he considered what it could contain to make the two brothers so strict about its handling.

He pressed his finger to the lock. With Speech, he could have it open in moments, without any need for the silver key in Zurach's possession. He braced for the collar's punishment, but it didn't come. Letting out a snort matching Zurach's snores, Terin tossed the box on the cushion next to him. He stood and slid his feet across the floor toward the door.

Terin wasn't certain if he trembled or if the man's snores were so strong they shook the floor. By the time he sneaked to the threshold, he struggled to keep his breathing quiet and slow.

If he crossed to the other room, he'd disobey Zurach. He already disobeyed, leaving the box behind on the divan instead of taking it with him. If he continued, escape would be in his grasp.

He winced and waited for his punishment, but the collar remained cool and inert.

With one final, deep breath, he stepped forward.

Nothing happened.

Zurach still snorted, and the man's thunder masked the whisper of Terin's clothes and his steps. He rubbed at his arms and hurried to the wall hiding the door to the sewer. A silver candelabrum, twin to the one Zurach had destroyed, stood in the corner. The light from his hand stained it red.

He froze in place, unable to tear his eyes away from it. It came up to his chest with a central staff so thick he would need both hands to wield it. Clawed feet formed the base and each arm bore an elaborate tangle of thorns and roses.

With one, maybe two strides, he could take up the candelabra and never have to worry about Zurach ever again. He reached out to pick up the makeshift weapon.

The collar struck with such intensity Terin crumpled to the floor and writhed. Bursts of light exploded in front of his eyes and danced to the throb in his head.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't breathe, and his lungs ached with the need for air. Tears blurred his vision and the heat searing his throat didn't subside until his vision faded at the edges and he struggled to remain conscious.

The pain faded away, but it took Terin a long time to gather enough strength to crawl to the far side of the room where he'd be safe from the temptation of the candelabra.

Through the opened doorway, Zurach continued to snore. Terin rubbed at his eyes, but it didn't ease the threat of tears. His frustration was a heavy weight in his stomach, and his throat was tight with the need to cry. He struck his thigh with a fist and focused on the ache in his leg from each blow.

With a trembling hand, Terin reached up and touched his neck and hissed at the sharp pain of raw and blistered skin. The collar remained inert when he tugged at it with a single finger.

Hope flared to life in his chest and stole away his breath. While he couldn't hurt the Citizen, it hadn't punished his desire to escape.

It hadn't tried to stop him.

Taking several deep breaths to calm his anxiety and fear, he turned to the wall he leaned against it. Escape depended on locating the hidden door without waking Zurach.

That much Terin could do.

Escaping depended on his strength not failing. He closed his eyes and struggled to concentrate. The gash across his side would prove the largest obstacle for his success. It hurt when he took deep breaths, which would make running problematic at best. Terin had lost count of the other sc.r.a.pes and bruises, but he could ignore them. He didn't have any other choice.

Touching the wall, he whispered, "There are no secrets in a world watched by G.o.d."

Speech-wrought voices called out to Terin, loud enough that he winced. With another whispered Word, the echoes quieted and he focused on what he desired. The wood warmed beneath his hand. He stretched his arm out to the right. When the temperature cooled, he turned the other way until the heat grew so intense he marveled that the wall didn't burst into flame. A single Word ended his search. He Spoke again to find a way to open the door.

The wall dissolved beneath his hand, but the opening didn't lead to the sewer channel as he expected. Instead, a tunnel of loose soil and stone twisted out of sight. Terin crawled forward, ducking his head low. Mud clung to his hands and knees as he worked his way into the darkness.

The glow from his hand illuminated carved stones and a section of collapsed wall. He twisted around in the tight tunnel. Behind him, the wall flickered and rematerialized with a crack of wood and the grind of stone on stone.

Water dripped from somewhere nearby, and the soil sucked at Terin's hands and knees. His toes slipped through the muck and sc.r.a.ped at the rocks buried beneath the surface. When the pa.s.sage narrowed, he stared at the gap. He held his breath and considered the hole. He thought he could fit, but his light didn't reveal how long the tunnel was. His side throbbed, and he reached down to press his hand to the wound.

Terin swallowed and glanced over his shoulder.

If he turned back, he could bathe and pretend he'd been there all along. Zurach and Emeric wouldn't know Terin had attempted to escape or had disobeyed their orders.

Turning back was an option.

The memory of Zurach leering at him sent shivers racing through him, and frightened him even more than the thought of getting trapped in the tunnel. If Terin wanted to get away, time wasn't on his side. He needed to hurry, or they'd discover him missing before he could get away from them.

The need to run and hide struck Terin hard. For a moment, all he could do was gasp for air. The sense of eyes watching him tickled the back of his neck.

He needed to hurry.

Terin reached out and slid his arms through the opening. Rocks sc.r.a.ped at him. He shuddered and eased into the hole with both arms stretched out in front of him.

Wiggling through the gap using his toes to propel him forward, he worked his way deeper. The ground swallowed him, clinging to his clothes and sucking at him. Broken, jagged stones dug at his stomach and he struggled to draw breath. His side ached, and tears of pain blinded him.

The noise of his pa.s.sage was loud enough to drown out the frantic beat of his heart and the sounds of the water ahead. Each thrust of his legs hurt, and he felt his toes tearing on the rocks beneath the mud.

The light surrounding his hand flickered once before vanishing and leaving him in the dark.

Terror choked off his breath and the pressure of the ground around him intensified until he feared he'd be crushed in its unyielding grip. He clawed at the ground and shoved through with his feet. The need to escape the confines of the tunnel and sewer spurred him into moving faster. Still blinded by his tears, he lunged forward with all of his strength.

The ground released him with a wet, sucking noise. The tunnel trembled and collapsed beneath him, mud flowing around him and plastering him in its sticky grip. It dumped him in a pool of stagnate water.

A too-sweet stench choked off his breath and bile flooded his mouth. Terin jerked free of the debris, staggered upright, and spat. The ground trembled again and the tunnel fell in on itself.

Terin gasped out the Speech for light. The rosy aura encapsulated his hand and illuminated the dusty tunnel with a stagnant ca.n.a.l between two elevated platforms. The body of a rat lay at the fringe of the collapsed pa.s.sage, and it was so decayed its bones stuck out through patches of fur.

The need to hurry roused again, and his feet answered the compulsion. He stood and staggered forward.

Not far ahead, the tunnel intersected a circular chamber with five other paths branching out from its center. He shook his head and his hair whipped against his cheeks.

It didn't matter which way he went, so long as it took him far away, and fast. Choosing one at random, he ran.

The tunnel twisted through the dark. The water gleamed in the light radiating from Terin's hand, turning the brownish-red of congealed blood.

He shuddered and cupped his hand over his mouth, wishing he didn't have to breathe. The air was thick with humidity and a sickening, too-sweet scent. His throat tightened, and he gagged. Avoiding the ledge and the murky waters below, he hurried along the platform.

Relief eased the tension in his throat and chest when the pa.s.sage widened and joined with a large room. He drew a breath to let out a sigh and the stench intensified. He staggered back a step, pinching his nose shut. Lifting his other hand, he squeaked out the scripture to strengthen the light.

Twisted bodies covered the ground, barely visible through the pale fog rising from the black water surrounding them. As though trying to reclaim the lives they had long-since lost, rotting bits of flesh clung to their pale bones.

The corpses piled on top of one another, seeking escape through the hole in the domed ceiling above. Several rats scurried out of the midden and vanished down one of the far tunnels.

Terin's knees knocked together before collapsing beneath him, slamming against the stones. A shudder tore through him and his stomach heaved. Tears blurred his vision. He choked back bile and panted until the nausea eased enough he could stand.

Leaning against the wall, he struggled to catch his breath without smelling the rot polluting the air. He closed his eyes, but he couldn't erase the memory of what lay before him from his mind. When he opened them again, he focused his gaze on the far tunnel.

He couldn't stop from looking down at the corpses.

A few of the bodiesa"all of them mena"hadn't been dead long. Their sightless, accusatory eyes bore into him. Terin whimpered. Scars marked their faces in the familiar pattern of those who'd survived the arena for far too long.

Terin bit one of his knuckles. Unlike the convicts he was accustomed to seeing, the bodies were clad in the finery of men like Emeric and Zurach.

The belief that the Arena could be escaped crumbled beneath the reality of the men who'd been disposed of before they could obtain their freedom from the Emperor's games.

Terin turned his head, and disgust warred with his fear of what lurked beneath the black waters. A ledge circled the chamber, leading to next tunnel. He slid his foot to the edge of the platform. If he stood on his toes, he could traverse it. It wasn't any different than climbing the cliff.

While death waited for him if he fell from Upper Erelith City, he feared what lurked beneath the stagnant pools more than the thought of falling. Terin shivered again, and tried to convince himself he could cross the ledge without tumbling off of it. So long as his weight didn't send the decaying stone and mortar breaking away from the wall.

He tried not to think of what would happen if it did.

Terin faced the wall instead of the bodies abandoned to rot by those living in the city above. Unable to stop his trembling, he stepped on the ledge and eased his way across toward the next tunnel, his nails digging at the mortar between the stones.

Rats scolded him from holes in the wall, their chatter chasing behind him. Something brushed against his shins and tiny claws scratched at his feet.

Terin jumped, letting out a high-pitched cry. His toes slapped against the ledge, and the stone cracked beneath him. Losing his grip on the wall, he fell backward, splashing down into the pool below.

Cold water closed over his head. Somethinga"many somethingsa"poked at him from below, and all he could imagine was the bony hands of the dead reaching out for him.

Scrambling out of the water, Terin struggled toward the nearest tunnel, a choked sob escaped him. By the time he hauled out of the water and up on the platform, and his empty stomach heaved. He spat out bile and water.

The need to escape and put as much distance between him and the horror of the midden overwhelmed him. Without knowing or caring where he went, Terin ran.

"You're not dead, are you?"

Ca.s.sius's voice roused Blaise from slumber. He considered striking out at the human, but the urge faded beneath the soothing whispers of the Heart. A yawn forced its way out of him. Aurora's stone pressed against his cheek, and it radiated warmth. "Go away," Blaise muttered, refusing to open his eyes.

"It nears the midnight hour," Ca.s.sius replied. "I was told to wake you."

Blaise snapped to full consciousness, bolting upright so fast his every muscle ached in protest. His joints creaked and he heard his back pop and crack. The Heart of G.o.d took up most of his cot, and the severed bone of his tail remained clutched in fingers he couldn't relax.

Aurora sang to him, soothing the chaos of his thoughts until he remembered why he'd been roused.

Volas.

Ca.s.sius stood at the door with a white coat draped over his arm. "I didn't want to wake you, I'll have you know."

"Duty calls," Blaise replied. As always, his bone wailed its silent displeasure in his head when he let it go to lean it against the wall. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward, but he didn't heed his bone's call. Stretching awoke more aches and he let out a slow, hesitant breath. The pound in his head he feared would come didn't manifest.

Stripping out of Leopold's ruined coat, he tossed it on the floor and examined his bare hands. Dried blood and dirt caked him in a second skin. He glanced at Ca.s.sius out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "Only through destruction may there be renewal," he whispered low enough human ears couldn't hear him. The filth fell off of him in a fine powder.

Ca.s.sius whistled. "That's a nice trick, Bishop."

"No time for a bath," he murmured.

"There's time enough, I think. Little less than half an hour." Ca.s.sius yawned. "Many pardons."

In the glow of a candle nestled in the wall sconce, the man's face was pale and wrinkles marred the corner of his blood-shot eyes. Blaise felt his mouth pull and twist in a knowing smile. While the weight of exhaustion didn't cling to him as much as before, he stifled a yawn of his own. "Why don't you rest during the service?"

Ca.s.sius snorted. "I'm pretty certain you're supposed to be lecturing me about showing respect to G.o.d right now, not encouraging me to miss a funerary ma.s.s."

Blaise shrugged and shed off the rest of his clothes, kicking them in a pile before digging through the chest at the foot of his cot for trousers, shirt, and clean gloves. Everything he owned was white.

He frowned.

Something colorful would've been a more suiting for Volas's final farewell. Red, for the steward's pa.s.sion and dedication, or blue for the man's serenity. Green would've been better yet; Blaise didn't doubt Volas would've heard Aurora's song, if the old human had been given the chance to hold the Heart of G.o.d.

Remembering Ca.s.sius's presence, Blaise hurried to dress. When he finished b.u.t.toning his shirt, he turned to face the colonel. "Would you listen, if I lectured you?"

"No," Ca.s.sius admitted.

"I saved us both some time, then. Just to make you happy, I'll wait until you least expect it. It's no fun when you know its coming," Blaise said, struggling to keep his expression neutral and his tone serious.

"I hate you."