Artemis Awakening (37 page)

Terrell’s eyes had dark circles under them. He looked so worn that Adara even forgot he was handsome. She sprang to her feet and guided him to one of the long benches that surrounded the communal table. At this hour, they were nearly alone. The earliest risers were already about their duties. The later risers—mostly the school-aged children—would not flood down the stairs for a time.

Adara poured Terrell a mug of the dark, bitter tea he favored, then began spreading soft cheese on bread.

“Are you getting sick?”

“Sick of … No. Not sick. I’ve been dreaming … I…”

His voice was a thick, heavy mumble that reminded Adara of Ring.

“Slowly, now,” she said gently. “Eat. I’ll get you something hot.”

She sprang up and fetched a bowl of the soup that eternally simmered on the back of the stove.

“Terrell, ill?” asked the cook, a plump woman who was an aunt of Elaine’s.

Adara nodded. “Or maybe hungover. I’ll take him out in a bit and we’ll see.”

“And I’ll keep the little ones from him, just in case.”

Assured of privacy, Adara returned to Terrell. He finished the soup along with a slice of bread and cheese before speaking.

“I’ve been dreaming,” he said. “A few nights ago, before I went to bed, I was wishing we could ask Griffin about how to open that door. I was beat—and maybe a little drunk. Cedric had broached a cask of some mead he wanted to sample.

“I found myself thinking, ‘Well, maybe I can ask Griffin.’ I remembered how you said that you and Sand Shadow didn’t speak so much in words as in images and feelings. So, as I was drifting off, I imagined that door in as much detail as I could. Then I focused in on the lock. Then I tried to feel puzzlement.

“My dreams were very strange. I … Did you ever find yourself realizing that what you’d taken for background noise was actually a distantly heard conversation?”

Adara hadn’t—her hearing had been trained since she was quite small—but she thought she understood, so she nodded.

“It was like that. Like the person on the other end hadn’t realized that these dreams weren’t just dreams. The next night—last night, I tried it again. This time it was as if Griffin had figured it out. He was almost too eager. He wanted to talk, but we don’t have ears, not in dreams. I had to slow him down, get him to make pictures.” Terrell sighed gustily. “It wasn’t easy. In the end, though, it worked. And I am as exhausted as if I didn’t sleep at all.”

“You probably didn’t,” Adara said practically. “Do you wish to sleep now or can we take a look at that lock?”

“It’s daylight, so it’s probably safe for me to sleep,” Terrell said. “I have the impression that the other dreamer—Griffin—is on a strict day-night schedule. Still, I don’t think I can rest until I see if I can open that door.”

“I understand,” Adara said. “I’ll saddle Tarnish and Midnight.”

“Better make it Molly. She’ll let me nap in the saddle.”

Adara agreed. In case the Old One had spies watching them, she and Terrell had been very careful to hide their interest in the area where the lighthouse had once stood. Today, although she felt fiercely impatient, Adara waited to turn in that direction until she—and Sand Shadow—were sure that there were no watchers near.

Even after the thickly forested slopes hid them, she asked Sand Shadow to make sure neither man nor beast followed. The puma found Adara’s apprehension very human—cats only jump at shadows in play—but humored her demiurge nonetheless.

Terrell did manage to sleep in the saddle, and the nap seemed to help clear his mind. They released the horses to graze—Sand Shadow would make sure Tarnish and Molly did not wander far—then slipped through the door behind the waterfall. After hanging the waterproofed cloaks they had worn on rough protrusions in the damaged wall, they hurried to the locked door.

“The controls you found,” Terrell explained, “were for ordinary use. Griffin suggested I look for the flood-lock mechanism.”

Muttering to himself, Terrell pressed a panel high on the wall, one that looked no different to Adara than any other section of the wall. It came loose in his hands, then peeled down, revealing an array of rods and levers. He moved these in a neat order.

Eventually, there was a click, followed by a clunk. Neither were loud in themselves, but in that quiet place they resonated like thunder.

“And that is why Sand Shadow smelled nothing when I asked her to check,” Adara said. “In the future, I will need to make sure she stretches to her full height. The door is open now?”

“It should be,” Terrell said. His expression was vaguely stunned, as if he couldn’t believe his dream had taken shape in reality. “Before we open it, though, what are our goals?”

“First, to make sure we can open the door. Second, to see what is behind it. If there is indeed a passage leading toward the bay and possibly the islands, then…” She gave Terrell an impish smile. “Then, Factotum, I fear you will need to dream again and alert Griffin of our coming.”

Terrell winced. “Makes sense. Maybe Griffin can even tell us what to expect. If only I can get him to slow down and shape clear pictures. It’s very strange. I think the world he comes from uses words so much that he finds it hard to think of the things without the words.”

Together, making as little noise as possible, they removed the door from the tracks upon which it once would have slid. The door was solid, but made of something surprisingly light. Adara thought that if she hadn’t needed to make as little noise as possible, she could have moved it herself.

On the other side was a tunnel. As in the complex, black streaks marked all the surfaces, evidence of damage done not so much to the tunnel itself, but probably to equipment—or people—that had been within it. There was a musty odor, as of standing water, although the area was dry and clear of debris. Wheel marks scuffed the surface. Adara motioned Sand Shadow forward. The great cat sniffed, padded a few paces, sniffed again, and returned.

Adara nodded and mouthed soundless words to Terrell. “They came through here. Many men, more women, many children. Probably had wagons for provisions.”

Terrell motioned to say,
Go ahead or stop here?

Adara considered, pointed to herself and Sand Shadow, then down the tunnel. When Terrell frowned, she tapped a finger next to her eyes, then to the lantern they’d brought with them in case the skylights did not supply sufficient illumination.

Terrell understood, but that didn’t mean he was happy. Adara patted him reassuringly, then mimed calling for help if needed. Terrell nodded and motioned for them to go.

The exploration did not take long. The distance from the shore to any of the Haunted Islands was not more than a couple of miles. Adara and Sand Shadow kept careful watch, but there were none of the traps that had bedeviled them within the complex itself.

Probably the Old One felt that even if anyone found the complex, they would not find the door, and even if they found the door, they would not know how to open it. Indeed, we would have been balked if not for Terrell and his dreams.

Fleetingly, Adara wondered at this peculiar bond between Terrell and Griffin. Was Griffin indeed a seegnur, so that something deeply buried in Terrell knew him as such? She had not thought Griffin was a true seegnur. She did not think Griffin thought of himself as such, either.

She pushed the puzzle from herself as unproductive. Terrell would be feeling every breath they were gone as if it were five. He was exhausted and might do something unwise. She hastened her pace.

The tunnel ran straight and true until it ended at another door. Here the locking mechanism was not covered and, to Adara’s eyes, looked the same as the one on the other end. Nonetheless, she took out her notebook and made a quick sketch of each rod and lever for comparison.

When they returned, Terrell was leaning against a wall in an odd state of watchfulness that nonetheless seemed akin to sleeping. When he saw Adara and Sand Shadow, he raised a finger to his lips in a reminder for silence, then motioned to the door. Together, he and Adara fit it back into place. Then he relocked it. Only after the click and clunk announced they had succeeded did he speak.

“And?”

“A tunnel, long enough to reach the Haunted Islands. Door like this on the far end. I drew the lock.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

They did. After Terrell had looked at Adara’s drawing and confirmed that the lock was much the same, they saddled the horses. They did not head directly back to town, but sought a sunny hillside. There, while Adara and Sand Shadow kept watch, Terrell caught up on his sleep. A sleep, so Adara hoped, that would be free from dreams or visions.

*   *   *

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Julyan said to Griffin, his tone between mocking and sympathy. “Maybe you should have taken Fleurette into your bed with you. She told me she thought you very interesting and very handsome.”

Griffin forced himself to grin. “And how would have she helped me to sleep? More the opposite, I think. Still, perhaps … Fleurette or maybe that little one with the red hair.”

“Narda?” Julyan looked surprised. “Well, she wouldn’t be my choice.”

No,
Griffin thought,
she wouldn’t be. She scowls at you as if she’d put a knife in your back—at least when she thinks you won’t notice. That’s one reason I’d give her a try. She might be able to tell me what I need to know.

For the last several nights, Griffin had been in communication with Terrell. He’d not quite believed it, not even when Terrell had asked him how to work a complex lock. After all, that might have been a wish fulfillment dream. Later, though, when Terrell had painstakingly explained his side of events, about how the Old One had told them that Griffin was drowned, how they hadn’t believed it, how they had been searching for him since, how Adara had found a way … Then Griffin had begun to believe. The only problem was that his days of work were no shorter and the interrupted nights were telling on him.

Lately, Terrell had wanted information regarding where on Mender’s Isle the tunnel they had found might emerge; was it guarded; if so by how many? Griffin had tried to get the information from Dierks, but had been unsuccessful. He thought that perhaps Dierks initially had spoken too freely and had been warned to prudence. Griffin needed another source of information. Perhaps Narda would be it.

In addition to looking as if she hated Julyan, Narda also was not young. It was likely she had been in the Old One’s keeping for some time. Certainly, she would have been among those who came over from the mainland after Winnie’s escape. If Narda still had the will to hate, she might also have the will to desire freedom.

So, after another night’s conference with Terrell, one during which he asked for a night free from talking dreams, Griffin requested that Narda be his for the night. He had to put up with a lot of coarse teasing from Julyan, but the other actually seemed pleased.

He probably thinks I’m weakening,
Griffin thought.

At least his room wasn’t a classic cell. The door was solid and once he and his “guest” were locked in for the night, Griffin could count on privacy.

And on Artemis, at least, they don’t have spybots,
he thought.
Even so, I think I will be very careful to keep my questions to a whisper.

Narda was brought to Griffin along with his dessert. She wore a short gown that was meant to make her look provocative, but only succeeded in making her look pathetic.

After the lock clicked shut, Griffin crossed and took Narda’s hand. It lay limp in his own. He put two fingers under her chin, tilting it up as if to kiss her lips. She neither stiffened in protest nor cooperated. She might as well have been a rag doll.

He lowered his lips so close to hers that he could feel her warmth, then he whispered softly, “Winnie. Mabel. Ring. I know them. They’re safe.”

At last, Narda reacted. She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him solidly on the lips. Griffin blinked, but did not take advantage. Instead, forcing a laugh, he picked Narda up and carried her over to the bed that had replaced his cot when he showed himself willing to cooperate with the Old One’s goals.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he lowered Narda into his lap. Then, under the pretense of further sex-play, he again whispered. “How many others are here? Captives.”

Narda replied, “Women, children, babies … Maybe a hundred.”

Griffin was dismayed. He hadn’t thought there would be so many. Narda snuggled up to him with honest affection. No wonder. She’d come expecting at best rape. She’d met a friend.

“How many would want out?”

“Most. All. The children wouldn’t understand, but they know how to obey.”

They would,
Griffin thought.

“Are we watched?”

“Maybe. Julyan is kinky that way. If he could work it.”

“Ah … Trust me?”

“If you will get me out of here—even try—you can have all you want.”

Griffin winced. Even by candlelight, there was no mistaking the fierce sincerity in Narda’s eyes. He considered blowing out the candle but, if Julyan was watching, it was better to give him the show he craved rather than frustrating him.

“Here, then.” He lifted her off his lap, slid her under the covers. “Don’t seem too eager … Julyan—if he watches—might get envious.”

Narda nodded, but she gave him one more grateful kiss before lapsing into apparent passivity. The next span of time rivaled Griffin’s first night with Adara for frustration—and here there was no puma to act as chaperone. He didn’t doubt Narda had meant what she said, but he needed her trust far more than he needed her body.

As he pretended to indulge himself, Griffin asked Narda question after question. Narda was as informative as he had hoped. When the women and children had first been brought to Mender’s Isle, she had hoped to escape. With that in mind, she had committed to memory every detail of the facility, how corridors ran, where guards were posted—not so many of those these days as earlier on—schedules. She had seen a great deal of the facility because, during the first month or so after the move, those women who had not been nursing or pregnant had been pressed into service, cleaning, unpacking, and the like.