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“I, perhaps, might ask to be excused from such an excursion,” Melissande said.

“There’s the conservatory,” Jiramondi suggested. “Plenty of new flowers in bloom. You could pick bouquets to take back to your rooms.”

“Yes, and have the gardeners chase us out with their hoes!” Liramelli answered. “If they had their way, anyone who plucked a blossom would be executed on the spot and their bodies used as fertilizer.”

Corene bounced in her chair. “I know, I know—let’s go
down
,” she said. “Do you have dungeons here? I’m sure no one is locked up in them
now
, but we could tour the cells where they used to keep prisoners.”

“Now,
that
I’d like to see,” Steff said.

Liramelli and Jiramondi exchanged a brief glance. “No dungeons,” he said lightly. “Just more storerooms. Ones that are actually filled with useful items.”

“What kinds of items?” Melissande asked.

“Grain, seeds, dried fruit, paper, fabric,” Jiramondi answered. He hesitated a second, then added, “Ammunition.”

Melissande’s delicate brows rose. “Siege preparations,” she said.

“Exactly.”

“There’s water down there, too, isn’t there?” Steff asked. “I’m sure Lorian mentioned that once.”

“A spring,” Jiramondi said. “Though I, for one, don’t relish the idea of carrying buckets of water up from the bowels of the earth should the need ever arise.”

“Should the need arise,” Melissande said with asperity, “I imagine you will be exceedingly grateful that there is something to fill those buckets with.”

“Well, now I’m curious. I’d like to see this spring,” Steff decided.

Corene shrugged. “It sounds more interesting than just sitting here, at any rate.”

“It’s an awfully long way down,” Liramelli warned. “And then climbing back up.”

“It can’t be worse than the red tower,” Steff asked. “And I managed that.”

Corene jumped up. “I want to do it,” she said. “Who else wants to come?”

Steff was immediately on his feet. Melissande and Liramelli stood more reluctantly, and Jiramondi kept his seat. “I do
not
think it sounds
like fun,” Melissande said. “But I hate to be left out of anything, so I will join you.”

Jiramondi faked an elaborate yawn. “I don’t have any interest in clambering around underground,” he said. “You go, and then tell me how much you enjoyed yourselves.”

“I suppose I’ll have to lead the way, then,” Liramelli said.

Jiramondi eyed her. “Surely you can find it. You and Greggorio must have spent half a quintile down there when you were younger.”

Liramelli nodded. “I do wonder if Filomara would think this is a good idea, though.”

“Well, that makes it somewhat more interesting,” Melissande drawled. “If our little outing is
forbidden
.”

Jiramondi yawned again. “I hope the four of you have fun.”

Of course, five of them actually set out on the adventure because Foley was lurking in the hallway and he fell in with them as soon as they emerged. As usual, he stayed somewhat to the rear of the group but within easy calling distance.

“If we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, we should take the back stairs,” Liramelli said, leading the way toward the far end of the corridor.

“Back stairs? Who knew there were back stairs?” Steff asked.

“
I
did,” Corene said smugly.

“Someone had to tell you about them. You never found them on your own.”

“So? I still found them.”

“If the two of you are just going to argue the whole time, I will not come with you,” Melissande said.

“We’re not arguing,” Steff replied with a grin. “This is how we talk.”

“Keep your voices down,” Liramelli said softly. “We’ll be going past the servants’ hallways, and there could be guards anywhere. Just follow me and stay quiet.”

The women all wore soft-soled slippers that made almost no noise, but Corene could tell Steff and Foley had to take extra care to keep their boots silent on the stairs. Liramelli guided them down the back passageway that Corene and Foley had used on their own adventure,
but when they got to the second level, she began weaving through a warren of corridors that branched off in all different directions. Corene was lost by the third turn, and her sense of direction plummeted when they climbed down yet another unfamiliar stairwell to what she presumed was the ground level. They found themselves in a narrow, poorly lit hallway whose rough walls seemed to have been hastily constructed of blocks of flaky gray stone. No doors or cross-corridors interrupted the endless march of dull rock; this was a passage designed to lead to one destination only. It happened to be a tall wooden door with a single brass plate where the handle should be. It was hardly a flight of fancy to think it looked judgmental and disapproving, Corene thought, as if it strongly discouraged anyone from trying to push past its threshold.

“I find myself thinking—maybe even hoping!—that this is the kind of door that is always left locked,” Melissande observed.

Even in the inadequate light, the amusement on Liramelli’s face was easy to see. “It is! But Greggorio and I know where the key is always kept.”

She stretched up to run her fingers along the narrow lintel above the door, but sank back to her heels empty-handed. “That’s odd. It’s not here.”

“Did it fall to the floor, perhaps?” Melissande asked. They all gazed down at their feet and scuffed at the dust with their toes.

Steff eased Liramelli aside and stooped down to squint at the lock. “It doesn’t look very complicated. I could probably pick it if I had a knife or a long pin.”

“So you are a thief as well as a farmer!” Melissande observed.

He grinned at her over his shoulder. “I’m good with mechanical things. I used to be able to fix almost anything that broke down on my father’s farm. This is a pretty simple mechanism.”

Foley glided forward and offered Steff a choice of weapons—a dagger, Corene thought, and something long and thin and wicked that looked suited for putting out a man’s eye. Steff’s grin grew wider.

“That’ll do nicely, thanks,” he said, choosing the slimmer tool and setting to work.

Liramelli and Melissande—who usually had so little in common—wore matching expressions of doubt as they glanced at Foley, then Steff,
then Foley again. Corene thought they were having trouble deciding which one made them most uneasy at this particular moment.

Faster than Corene would have predicted, Steff said, “Got it,” and the lock snapped back. He returned the tool to Foley and pried the door open with his fingertips. It required some effort before the door swung wide enough for them to see to the other side.

Melissande peered through. “Better and better,” she pronounced. Corene stood on tiptoe to look over her shoulder.

A thin runner of gaslight continued past the doorway and into the gloom on the other side. It threw just enough ghostly illumination for Corene to make out what appeared to be a tunnel hewn straight from the rock of the palace foundation. No blocks, no mortar, no seams—just a low, arched opening in smoky gray rock that stretched forward into a corridor.

That curled down onto a ramp.

Steff had stepped confidently through the door, but Corene saw him quickly falter. “How far down does this go?” he asked.

Liramelli brushed past him, ready to play the leader again. Corene guessed at the thoughts in her mind.
You want to see what lies under the palace? I’ll show you, then, but don’t blame
me
if it gives you nightmares.
“The equivalent of three stories, I think. Maybe four.”

“And the water is at the bottom?” Corene asked.

“All the way down.”

Corene pushed past Steff, too. “Then let’s go.”

Liramelli moved forward slowly, the fingertips of one hand trailing along the curve of the wall as she traversed the short corridor and began her descent. Corene quickly followed suit; the passageway was so uneven that the extra contact made it easier to stay upright. About half the time, the floor was a downward grade, and then there would be a random section where steps had been carved out of the bedrock, fanning out from the center axis in rough triangular shapes. The thin tube of gaslight spiraled down with them, its faint glow adding to the overall eeriness.

Corene lost count of the downward twists they’d taken by the time the tunnel widened out into a reasonably sized cavern. Here, indeed, were the siege supplies Jiramondi had described—barrels of wine, stacks of cloth, huge wooden crates that might hold anything. The
illumination was better here, since the single artery of gaslight split into multiple veins that wrapped around the high walls. At any rate, it was bright enough for Corene to see the small dark shapes that scurried away from the disturbance of their presence. Mice or rats, she figured. She didn’t even want to think about what other kinds of creatures might be roaming these shadowed hallways.

“Well, I know where I’m coming next time I’m hungry in the middle of the night,” Steff joked.

“I think I would rather risk the displeasure of the cook and sneak food from the kitchen,” Melissande said faintly.

Corene sniffed. “It smells funny in here. Like there’s fruit rotting.”

“I wouldn’t think there’s any fresh fruit down here,” Liramelli said. “I know some of the stores get used up and new ones laid in every quintile or so, but I suppose a few items go bad now and then.”

“So where’s the water?” Steff asked.

Liramelli gestured. “Another level down. If you still want to go.”

“Of course.”

They fell into single file again and resumed their circular descent. Corene was sure they weren’t
really
so far underground that she was running out of air. They weren’t
really
about to be crushed by the tons of stone crouching overhead. Nonetheless, she was finding it hard to breathe; the narrowness of the passageway, the dimness of the light, just added to the oppressive sense of danger.

The odor was getting worse, too, the deeper they went underground. Sickly sweet and sulfurously foul at the same time. She wanted to hold her breath but she was already panting slightly and needed all the air she could get.

Liramelli’s voice floated up to her. “It doesn’t usually stink so much down here. Mostly it smells sort of moldy and dank.”

“Probably a dead animal,” Steff said in what Corene suspected he intended to be a comforting voice. “There were a bunch of rats a level up. Maybe a whole nest of them died.”

“Dead rats!” Melissande exclaimed. “I am even happier that I decided to accompany all of you.”

Steff laughed. “You could go back to the surface and wait for us. Or even just back up to the supply room.”

“And be alone with the
living
rats? I do not think so.”

Another twist of the stairwell and Corene could see that they had reached the end of their journey. The tunnel emptied out into a second, smaller cavern with a low ceiling. Echoing back from the rough walls she could hear the trickling sound of running water. She glanced around to try to find the source, moving aside as Melissande bumped into her from behind.

“Utterly charming! Entirely worth the effort!” Melissande pronounced. “Now, let us go.”

“Wait—I want to see where the water comes in,” Corene said. “I can
hear
it—but the light is so bad—”

Liramelli gestured over at what looked like a blank face of rock. “See? There’s an opening in the wall and the water just bubbles out.”

Corene stepped closer, bent down, and put her hand against the chilled and bumpy wall. Liramelli was right. There was a small natural spout at about knee height where a thin stream gurgled out. She would have expected the water to be frigid, but, in fact, it was lukewarm, almost pleasant against her skin. She cupped her hand to take a sip, and thought she could taste copper and dirt mixed into the wetness.

Foley stepped up beside her, and he also filled his hand with water. But he opened his fingers and let it fall, watching as it splashed into a narrow trough at their feet. “Where does it drain to?” he asked, turning his head to the right to follow the course of the underground stream. It appeared to wind around a bulbous outcrop then disappear under a low overhang, but since the gaslight didn’t extend that far, it was hard to be sure.

“Too bad we didn’t bring matches and candles,” Corene murmured.

“I did,” Foley answered.

In a moment, he’d lit a slim taper and paced around the outcrop, Corene at his heels. It was instantly clear that the channel the water followed would not accommodate a fleeing princess. The flickering candlelight revealed what looked like a small cave with naturally rounded sides and ceiling, and only the tiniest opening in the far wall where the stream could run through.

“No exit,” Corene said.

Foley held the candle higher, his attention caught by a shadow
pooling on the floor against the wall, only visible now that they’d moved past the outcrop. “Something tried to get through, though,” he said.

She pressed even closer to Foley, straining to see through the half-dark. “Is that what smells so bad?”

It definitely was. The ripe, rank, sweet stench was intense at the distance of a few feet, and there was no doubt that the poor creature was dead. Whatever it was. It was the size of a large dog, though it was hard to figure out how an animal of any mass had gotten through the locked door and made its way down to this level. Corene didn’t think it was a dog—too long and thin, though somewhat curled into itself—and whatever it was, it had dragged some kind of white fabric down with it, maybe a blanket to sleep on—

Suddenly Foley moved forward to block her view and edged her back toward the others. “Step away,” he said, his voice grim.

But she had seen enough. “Foley,” she whispered. “That’s a person, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Take the others and go back up to the surface. I’ll stay here. Send one of Filomara’s guards down.”

But Corene had never been particularly good about following orders. She came closer and stood on tiptoe, trying to peer over his shoulders. “Can you tell what kind of person? A man, a woman, a child?”