49
The rear of the bakery was split into living quarters and a far larger workspace. Rain blanketed the barred rear window and drummed hard on the roof. The cellar door was where Alembord had said, thick and oak and bound by iron strips. As Edlyn lit her wand, Dally’s senses were filled with the fragrances of clove and cinnamon and mint. They descended into a cellar carved from bedrock. When Dally’s foot touched the stone floor, she felt as well as heard the drum of rushing water from below. Both the sound and the vibrations rising through her legs were much stronger here, inside this underground storeroom.
Then in the distance, louder than the bells and rain, they heard a rolling thunder.
Edlyn rubbed her hands together in undisguised glee.
Connell said, “Shouldn’t we . . .”
Edlyn held up her hand. Wait.
Dally stood there, panting in time with the dogs.
Then Edlyn said, “What do you hear?”
“Nothing,” Dally replied, for the sound of rushing water was gone now.
“Precisely,” Edlyn said. She shifted over to stand in the center of the cavern. “Dally, take the dogs and stand well back. Connell, apply your hottest flame to the floor.”
They bored a hole through the stone. Twice Dally offered to help, and both times Edlyn ordered her to stay back. The second time, Connell looked up long enough to grin and reply, “We’re after an opening, not a blast that might well take down the house.”
“Pay attention to your work,” Edlyn snapped, drawing him back around.
The floor glowed red-hot, turned molten, and fell into the depths below. Dally ordered the dogs to stay, stepped forward, and peered through the opening. The liquefied stone briefly illuminated a cavern broader and higher than the cellar, then hissed softly when it touched the distant floor and went out.
Edlyn paused long enough to tell Dally, “Go back upstairs. Check on everything, lock the front door as best you can, and shut the cellar door on your way back.”
The rain fell even harder now. It drummed upon the roof like a waterfall. In the distance, Dally heard faint screams and shouts.
When she returned to the cellar and reported, Edlyn said, “Do be sure to thank the dragon for us.”
“We’re ready,” Connell said. “Dally, come tell me if the dogs can survive such a drop.”
He turned the wand’s gemstone into a beacon, then directed the light down into the hole. Dally leaned over, the stone edge still hot through her wet shoes. “Yes.”
“Are you certain?” Connell’s head came down close to her own. “It looks very deep.”
Edlyn joined them and said, “I suppose we could rope their chests and lower them one by one.”
“There’s no need,” Dally said. Far below, trickles of water illuminated the stone floor. “I once watched a wolfhound jump down from the roof of the village hall.”
Connell straightened and said, “We’ll lower you first, then send the dogs down one at a time.”
The rope lashed to Dally’s waist ground softly as it slid over the hole’s rough edge. She could hear Connell and Edlyn huffing from the effort. She landed with a soft splash.
Edlyn said, “Draw your wand and speak the words I gave you. But softly, softly. We are simply after a little light. Then tell us what you see.”
She did so, then replied, “A huge empty tunnel that goes on forever in both directions.”
“Splendid,” Edlyn said. “Now call your dogs.”
Once the four wolfhounds were safely down inside the tunnel, Connell lowered Edlyn by himself, then anchored the rope and slid down. He splashed in the water puddled along the floor, then examined the tunnel. “Well.”
“I had suspected we’d all be dead by now.”
“You thought no such thing,” Edlyn chided, but in a good-natured tone. She paused as a scream echoed from far overhead, loud enough to be heard above the sound of falling rain.
“Not long now,” Connell said.