“When?” Garth said tightly.
His eyes were on Vorstus, but it was Ravenna who answered. “Tomorrow, Garth Baxtor. None of us want to linger about this pit of corruption,” and for an instant her eyes flashed, “and Maximilian has already spent long enough below, methinks.”
Excitement flowered in Garth’s chest, yet at the same time his heart thumped with nervousness. “Tomorrow…after all this time,” he whispered.
“Garth,” Vorstus’ tone was urgent, and Garth swung his eyes back to the monk. “Where was Maximilian when you went down last year?”
“Section 205.”
Vorstus turned and looked at Gustus. “Can you access Furst’s office tonight?”
Gustus nodded. “Yes. I’ll check the detail books. Make sure he’s still in the same gang.”
“Lot No. 859,” Garth said.
“I know, boy. Vorstus has passed on your information.”
Vorstus placed a reassuring hand on Garth’s shoulder. “We’ll all do the best we can boy, and, in the end, that’s all we can do. We’re as set to go as we can be.”
“And in the morning?”
“In the morning? Why, you go down the Veins as planned, Garth Baxtor. And think not to look startled when you notice the guards assigned to your detail.”
Garth took a sharp breath of excitement. “Ravenna?”
“As planned, Garth Baxtor,” she smiled, and took his arm. “As planned. Wish me luck and wait for the dream.”
Joseph frowned at his son as they made their way across to the waiting cage. Garth had been demonstrably nervous this morning, fumbling with his cutlery at breakfast, and then laying it down after only two or three bites of breakfast.
“Are you sure you want go down?” Joseph asked as they approached the waiting group of silent guards. “It’s not too late to—”
“No,” Garth broke in, and when he turned to look at his father Joseph’s frown deepened. Was that nervousness or excitement shining from his eyes? “No, I’m fine. Ah! Here we are. Jack? Is that you? Good to see you again.”
Joseph stared at Garth a moment longer, then turned to greet the guards huddled by the ironworks. Below them he could hear the cage rattling and screeching its way to the surface.
Jack had stepped forward to greet them, but Joseph’s frown—if possible—deepened yet further. What was wrong with Jack? The man had a slightly distracted air about him, as if his mind was elsewhere. And his eyes seemed…well, almost vacant.
Garth glanced at the guards behind Jack and grinned. The Order of Persimius might not command much in the way of magical arts, but apparently they commanded enough. He ran his eyes over the group. Gustus and Morton were here, both looking the part in their brief leather wraps and armour, but Vorstus was also masquerading as a guard, and Garth hoped that their group would not be scrutinised too clearly when they went below; Vorstus was patently far too thin for guard duty.
Behind Vorstus were two regular guards, their eyes as vacant as Jack’s.
“Fine,” Jack mumbled in a non-convincing way to Joseph, and the cage finally rattled its way to the surface.
“Well,” Garth said over brightly, “shall we get in?”
“Garth,” Joseph began, now running his eyes over the other guards. “Something’s not—”
“Into the cage we go,” Jack said, and he placed a meaty hand in the small of Joseph’s back and shoved.
Garth grinned quickly at Vorstus, then they were all in, the door closed, and the cage was spinning its way into the depths of the Veins.
As Garth only too well remembered, as soon as they sank below ground level the stench of the damp gloam mixed with the aroma of fear and pain and death rose about them like a noxious miasma.
“Section 205 needs our attention today, commander,” Vorstus mumbled almost inaudibly. Joseph stared at him, deep lines creasing into his forehead.
Vorstus noticed his stare, but said nothing. Joseph Baxtor would realise soon enough.
“Section 205?” Jack said, his voice querulous. “205? Yes, that’s right. It does need attention, doesn’t it…doesn’t it?”
Now Morton spoke quietly. “The fungus has spread among 205’s gang, Jack, and they can hardly work. Gloam production has fallen in Section 205 and Furst is angry.”
Behind Jack the two other regular guards nodded. Yes, the fungus had spread.
“Yes,” Jack whispered. “The fungus. Dreadful. Production has slowed. Yes. The physicians must go to Section 205. Yes.”
“What is going on here?” Joseph said angrily. Had he and Garth become involved in some plot of the prisoners to escape? He did not like the look in Jack’s eyes, and those other guards…what was it about them?
“Father,” Garth murmured, but it was Vorstus who stepped forward, seemingly unaffected by the cage’s continued wild plunge.
“My friend,” he said softly, and laid a hand on Joseph’s upper arm. “There has been an injustice done here and today we aim to set part of it to rights.”
Joseph, too shocked to reply, dropped his eyes to the guard’s hand clutched about his arm, thinking to wrench himself free.
Then he stilled, his eyes riveted by the faint tattoo of a quill on the man’s forefinger.
“Trust me,” Vorstus said quietly. “Believe in me.”
“By all the gods in heaven,” Joseph whispered. “You’re of the Order of—”
“No!” Vorstus’ voice cut cross his sharply, although his tone was still soft. He dropped his hand from Joseph’s arm. “Do not say it.”
Joseph shifted his eyes to his son. “Garth?”
“It’s all right, father,” Garth said. “Please. Trust us.”
Oh gods, Joseph thought, stunned, leaning back against the rough ironwork of the cage and barely managing to stop himself sliding to the floor. Garth is involved in this too!
Then, as the first trickle of water through a gap in a dyke augurs destruction, memories flooded Joseph’s mind. He remembered how much Garth had matured this year. He remembered how withdrawn he’d been after returning from the Veins last year, and how he’d suffered weeks of nightmares. He remembered how Garth had fought to be allowed back to the Veins this year and the curious—and idiotic—question he had asked of Cavor.
And he remembered how Garth’s mind had seemed consumed with Maximilian, although he had mentioned him only rarely.
“Oh gods,” he whispered, his brown eyes wide and distressed. “Oh gods!”
“We’re here,” Jack grunted, and reached for the controls. The cage screeched to a halt, and it swayed violently as the brakes kicked in. “Section 205.”
The excitement and nervousness were now almost too much for Garth to bear. Where was Maximilian? How was he? He shifted from foot to foot, trying to disguise the movement as one of catching his balance as the cage finally settled, but Joseph stared at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered as they filed out into the Veins.
“I wasn’t sure what to do,” Garth replied, his eyes flitting over the sentry waiting for them. “I didn’t want to get you into trouble.”
“Too late for that now!” Joseph snapped, angry at Garth—not so much for involving him in what was apparently a plot to free one of the prisoners (Maximilian?), but because Garth had not confided in him.
“Jack?” The sentry on duty by the shaft stepped forward. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Got to go to Section 205,” Jack mumbled. “With the physicians.”
The guard looked about the group suspiciously. “Who were…?
Then his shoulders slumped slightly. “Of course,” he mumbled. “They’re working close to the sea shaft.”
Garth felt Vorstus tremble slightly beside him. Concerned, he glanced at the man but did not touch him. Vorstus had told him that the order could control men’s minds to some degree, but not for long and at great cost to themselves. How long could he and the other two keep all of these guards in thrall?
Jack stumped off down the yawning tunnel without a further word, Vorstus hurrying their group after him.
It was darker and more confined than Garth remembered and within a few minutes he found he was gasping for air—but perhaps that was because excitement had gripped his chest in tight bands. Behind him he could feel his father, and Garth wished he’d told Joseph about Maximilian before they’d got this far. Well, too late now for confessions.
The two regular guards walked behind Joseph, and behind them Morton and Gustus. Pray we reach the gang relatively soon, Garth thought, before the monk’s control of these men slips.
The hanging wall scraped at their heads, and the walls of the tunnel sometimes crowded about to bump and bruise their bodies. No-one spoke, but the sound of heavy breathing and even heavier boots surrounded them in the gloom.
Every step was an effort, but every step brought them closer to Maximilian.
Jack led them eventually to a spot close to where Garth had first encountered the gang that worked Section 205. The gang were working in an offshoot from the main tunnel, and the spaces were even more confined than normal.