CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Descent

“ARE YOU SURE we’re in the right place?” Mark asked Laud, who stood beside him, poring over Verso’s instructions.

“It looks like it,” he replied. “Though I admit, it is not what I expected.”

It was a modest house of red sandstone, toward the center of the Virgo District. Entirely respectable, almost dull. Mark walked up to the oak door and tried the handle. It swung open, without even an ominous creek. For some reason, he found that unsettling.

“After you,” he said, gesturing to his friends. Ben and Laud shouldered the backpacks that Theo had provided, stuffed with food and heavy bottles of water. They were fully prepared; it had been two weeks since their visit to the Sozinhos. But Verso had been most particular. He would guide them, but only when he had made his own arrangements. When his letter arrived this morning, Theo had read it out with visible relief. Waiting had not been pleasant for any of them.

For a brief moment, Mark wished that the doctor had been able to join them—but it would be suspicious if the temple were abandoned, and Lily wouldn’t have wanted that. And Lily was the point of this whole journey—Lily was the reason the three of them were stepping through this door without a clue where it would lead.

The house inside was dimly lit, but Mark could still recognize a kind of shabby grandeur. The walls were paneled in dark oak, and the furniture had a respectable solidity. At the far end of the entrance hall, one of the doors stood open, the glow of a candle visible.

“Ah, how punctual,” said an old, scratchy voice.

Verso appeared in the candlelight. The steward still managed to walk with graceful deference, despite his bent posture, and Mark noticed that although he was dressed in tough, outdoor clothes, he was still wearing his spotless white gloves.

“Well, Mr. Verso?” Laud said, stiffly. “We’re here. We’re ready. How far is it to this secret entrance?”

Verso smiled, rubbing his rheumy eyes.

“Not far, sir. Under the dining room, in fact.”

Mark tried to suppress a laugh. Verso turned to him, peering into his face with a trace of amusement.

“I wasn’t aware that the dining room was a particularly humorous place,” he said. Mark shook his head.

“It’s not that; it’s just … really?” Mark said, grinning sheepishly. “A secret entrance to another land beneath the dining room? Isn’t that a bit ordinary? I was expecting a cobweb-hung mausoleum.” He sighed. “Stupid, I suppose.”

Verso turned away. Just for a second, there had been something oddly wistful about the old man’s eyes.

“Not entirely, sir,” he said. “This way, if you please.”

Verso led them through the corridors, up and down a bewildering number of steps. The house was larger than it had seemed, and it obviously hadn’t been lived in for a very long time.

“Mark does have a point,” Benedicta said, as they made their way through the dining room—the table set for six, but covered in a thick layer of dust. “Why is there a path to Naru in an ordinary house like this?”

“The question, Miss Benedicta, might more accurately be put this way,” he said, picking up a sturdy oil lamp from a dresser. “Why would anyone build an ordinary house over the path to Naru?” He lit the flame in his lamp. “Down these stairs, if you please.”

The stairs descended for quite a distance, turning from fine wood to stone. The corridors down here were servants’ quarters, and the wooden doors were old and warped.

“All right,” Mark said, somewhat frustrated by this cryptic old man. “Why would they?”

Verso smiled.

“As you astutely said, sir, because it was such an unlikely place.” Verso pulled a key from his belt to unlock one of the olderlooking doors. “The man who used to live here was known as the Last. Some called him a madman, but that is a label we often give to those who see with disturbing clarity. In the end, his family insisted on him “retiring” to this house.” With a satisfying click, the key turned, and Verso pushed the door open. “Which was, of course, exactly what he wanted. This house, he felt, needed to be guarded. The fact that he was essentially a prisoner here did not concern him. I think perhaps he was indeed a little unbalanced, at the end.”

“You seem to know a lot about him,” Laud said, suspiciously, following Verso through the door, to another wood-paneled corridor. Verso looked back.

“Naturally, sir,” he said. “I was a servant of his, in my youth, though only for a short time. Before he went the way of all things, he entrusted me with some very important secrets.” Verso turned suddenly, and reached out to one of the wooden panels on the wall. He pushed a knothole, and the panel slid to one side. “This one, for example.”

The room beyond was dark, and Verso shined his lamp in.

“Lady and gentlemen,” he said, with a bow, “welcome to the Last’s Descent.”

Beside him, Mark heard Ben and Laud gasp. The room was probably large, but it was hard to tell, as it was mostly filled with a vast array of gears, interlocking over the ceiling and walls. In the center of the room was a circular metal platform, ringed with rails and suspended from thick iron chains that disappeared up into the mass of cogs. Beneath the platform was a deep stone well that plunged far beyond the range of the light. Verso entered the room and began to adjust some levers on a contraption near to the door. Mark followed, but Ben and Laud remained in the doorway.

“Aren’t you coming?” Mark asked.

“I don’t trust this,” Laud said, his face grim. “It reminds me of the Clockwork House.”

“Well, as I understand it, Mr. Laudate, Naru is a considerable distance that way,” said Verso, pointing down. “I suppose we could always move the platform and find a rope…”

Laud silenced him with a glare.

“The last time I stepped into a room decorated this way, I was on the trail of my sister Gloria’s murderer, and was nearly burned alive. I would appreciate it if you would take me seriously.” Distractedly, he touched his left arm. Mark knew there was a long, livid scar there, given to Laud by that same murderer.

Lily had told Mark the story of that terrible night during their travels. She, Laud, and Ben had been cornered by the murderer, a disturbed receiver called Sergeant Pauldron, in the strange Clockwork House, deep in the Agoran slums. Laud had tried to grab the killer, and in return Pauldron had opened Laud’s arm nearly to the bone with his knife. But still, Laud had held on, distracting him, letting Ben escape, and keeping Lily safe until help arrived. That had been almost two years ago now, but one look at Laud and Ben showed that the memories were still raw.

Verso dropped his head in a slight bow.

“My apologies, sir. I was attempting to lighten the mood.” He looked over at the platform. “I do not relish this descent myself.”

“You’re coming with us?” Mark asked, surprised. Verso rubbed one wrist, thoughtfully.

“Indeed, sir. Much as it would be agreeable to say that I am showing you the Descent out of nothing but the goodness of my heart, I have my own reasons for visiting Naru.” He pulled another of the levers, and with a shuddering wrench, the largest of the gears above began to turn. “And that, sirs, miss, is all I am willing to say on the subject. Now, if you would join me.”

Verso walked purposefully onto the platform, his step only a little unsteady, leaning heavily on the rails as he lowered himself into a sitting position on the metal floor.

“The descent will begin in a few minutes,” he said, breathing heavily, from the exertion of sitting. “I advise you to join me.”

Mark looked back to Laud and Benedicta, hovering in the doorway.

“Are you coming?” he said, jumping onto the platform, making it rock a little. “For Lily.”

Silently, hand-in-hand, Laud and Ben joined him. As they settled themselves down, the last of the cogs above began to turn. And then, with a lurch, the chains began to let out, and the platform began slowly to descend.

“She’d better be down there,” Laud muttered, as they sank into the darkness.

*   *   *

Mark woke just before they reached the bottom of the well.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, surprised to find that he had fallen asleep at all. The descent had hardly been a smooth ride. The platform jarred on the rock walls of the well, and even when the going was easy, the chains continued to rumble overhead. The light from above had long since vanished, and they had extinguished their lanterns after the first few minutes, when it was clear that the journey was going to be long, and they didn’t want to waste oil. He supposed he had been more tired than he thought.

He looked around at the others. Laud and Ben were curled up, though he couldn’t see their faces from here. But Verso was still sitting, upright and propped against the platform rails. He almost looked as if he were enjoying himself. Every now and then, he produced a leather bag from his pocket and slipped a small boiled candy into his mouth, savoring the flavor.

“Aren’t you going to share, Mr. Verso?” Mark asked. Verso turned to face him. For a second, he looked startled, almost guilty.

“Forgive me, sir, but no,” he said. “You must forgive an old man his treats. I have been saving these for a long time.”

Mark watched hungrily as Verso pulled another candy out of the bag. This one was particularly tempting—deep blue and shiny, glinting in the dim light.

Slowly, an odd thought crept over him. He checked, the lanterns were all extinguished. The top of the well was far away, and doubtless the candle up there had burned out anyway. So how could he see anything at all?

Mark held up one hand. There were no shadows; it was as if the light—faint and bluish—was coming from all directions.

“Ah yes, the light,” Verso said, amiably. “Might I draw your attention to the walls, sir?”

Mark looked. At first, all he saw was stone—rough, uneven stone, certainly, but nothing out of the ordinary. And then he noticed the tiny veins of crystal, extending through the rock, and glowing. Faintly, yes, but just enough to bathe them all in deep twilight.

Mark turned back to Verso. He couldn’t understand why he was so unsettled. The light was hardly a threat. Then again, perhaps that was the problem. He had been expecting surprises, and dangers. But this light was alien, like nothing he had known before, except perhaps in the dreaming depths of the Nightmare.

Mark was about to speak when, without warning, the platform struck something, and pitched violently to one side. All four were jostled into a struggling heap.

“Looks like we’ve reached the bottom,” Ben said, pulling herself up, and then glancing back in alarm. “Mr. Verso, are you all right?”

She helped the old man to his feet. He was unsteady, and coughed a couple of times, a contrast to the calm figure of a moment before. But he quickly regained his composure and patted her hand.

“Thank you, my dear. Quite well enough.” He looked up. “Ah, it seems our journey is not yet concluded.”

Mark followed Verso’s gaze. In one side of the well, there was a carved archway in the stone. Beneath it sat a wooden cart, half-covered with more clockwork gears. It rested on a pair of metal rails that disappeared through the archway, and down a rocky corridor, sporadically illuminated by lumps of faintly glowing crystal.

“At least we won’t need to waste the lamp oil,” Laud muttered, staring down the tunnel, before facing the old man. “Now that we’re down here, Verso, do you have anything you want to say? A couple of words of warning, maybe? Any clues on what we have to do?”

Verso leaned heavily against the stone wall, and mustered a smile.

“This cart appears to have been left to provide the only way onward. Perhaps I might be allowed to inspect it? Unless you would prefer to walk?”

Verso met Laud’s gaze, and again, Mark thought he saw a flash of steel behind those amiably polite eyes. Laud closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Fine,” he said, through gritted teeth. “You’d better get to work.”

*   *   *

A few hours later, the four of them stepped from the cart on unsteady legs. It hadn’t been a bad journey—the corridor was straight, and the cart rode surprisingly smoothly—but the speed had taken them by surprise. They had never moved so fast in their lives. Mark was sure they must have been halfway out under Giseth by now.

But although the rails had come to an end, the stone tunnel had not, and there was no option but to continue on foot.

They made slow progress—partly out of caution, and partly because Verso could not walk very easily. In fact, the farther Verso went, the shakier his steps became. Perhaps it was the strange crystal light, but the wrinkles on his face looked deeper than before. Despite this, Laud continued to press on, striding forward with burning purpose, often barely waiting for the others to catch up. And it was quiet, so quiet that all Mark could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Without warning, Benedicta stopped.

“What is it?” Laud asked. Ben looked around at them all. In the faint light, she looked puzzled, but not frightened.

“It’s probably nothing, but—our footsteps aren’t making any sound,” she said.

Mark stared at her. Of course, now that she said it, it was obvious. He looked at the stone that lined this tunnel. It was black and dense, of a kind he had never seen before.

“This rock feels normal,” Ben said, touching the walls, “but—look.” She knocked the edge of her lantern against the black rock. Or rather, they saw her do it, but the metal lantern made no noise at all.

“Right,” Laud muttered. “Glowing crystals, sound-absorbent rocks. Do you think it’s time for the monsters to arrive?”

As if on cue, there was a sudden rasp. Laud spun around, brandishing his lantern like a weapon, but Ben was faster, and stopped his hand.

“It’s just Verso,” she whispered, as the old man broke into a fit of hacking coughs. Ben hurried over to Verso, and gently patted him on the back.

Mark eyed Laud’s lantern.

“You think that would help in a fight?” Mark asked. Laud shrugged.

“Not perfectly,” he admitted. “Burning lamp oil can’t be pleasant, but it rather makes me wish I’d brought something a bit more threatening.” He looked farther up the tunnel. “I thought I heard something up there, a moment ago. Shall we scout it out?”

Mark looked back at where Benedicta had sat Verso down, his back propped up against the wall.

“I don’t think Ben should stay with Verso,” Mark murmured. Laud raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t imagine that the old man would be particularly dangerous. And Ben’s dealt with much bigger threats than eighty-year-olds who can barely stand.”

Mark shook his head.

“It’s not that. I want to ask him a few questions. I think he was about to tell me something during the descent.” Purposefully, Mark raised his voice, loud enough for Ben to hear. “So that’s settled, you and Ben go on ahead. I’ll stay with Verso until he’s rested.”

Laud looked at the old man curiously, but didn’t object.

“Come on Ben,” he said, “it can’t be much farther.”

“You realize that now you’ve said that, we’ll be walking for hours,” Ben replied, deadpan, as she joined her brother.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, dear sister…”

“Well, I suppose it runs in the family…”

Their voices quickly faded away down the tunnel. Faster than usual, in fact, probably due to the black rock.

Mark sat down beside the old servant. Verso’s wheezing was still very bad, and he continued to rub his wrists through his gloves. The old man turned, but didn’t quite meet Mark’s eye.

“Did you want something, Sir?” he asked.

“Answers would be nice,” Mark admitted. “Look, I appreciate you bringing us down here, I really do, but I can’t trust you. In fact I think you’ve gone out of your way to make us distrust you.”

Verso frowned.

“I’m not sure I entirely follow you, Sir…”

“You’ve been acting mysteriously since the moment we met,” Mark interrupted, firmly. “You obviously know more than you’re telling. All those secrets you hint at, all those little pauses. You told the Sozinhos you only know about this place because you’d researched their family history, and then you turn around and tell us that you used to work as a servant to the Last. You don’t add up, Verso, and sometimes I think you’re doing it on purpose.”

Verso continued to rub his wrists, thoughtfully, giving nothing away.

“So, do you trust me, Mr. Mark?” he asked, at last.

Mark thought for a moment.

“I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t, but if you’d wanted to betray us, you could just have lied about the way down.”

Verso turned away. His eyes were unfocused, as though he were remembering.

“Lying would be easy,” he said. “It always is. But truth, now that is a difficult thing indeed. I have known so many truths. From tiny facts to huge secrets, and every one is a burden. But this is a place where truths must be faced.”

Mark looked into Verso’s eyes. For a few long moments, he examined the old man, trying to get into his head. There was something he was missing here, something obvious.

“You know a lot for someone who’s been a servant all his life,” he said.

Verso chuckled, which turned into another attack of coughing.

“Servants have a great deal of time to think, sir,” he said, once he got his breath back. “We have little else to do, without the freedom to make our own decisions. I know many secrets, yes, but I can do nothing with them. Every action I have taken, every choice I have made, has been determined by greater forces.”

Mark put his hands behind his head.

“That sounds like an excuse to me.”

Verso turned to him, sharply.

“What do you mean?”

Mark shrugged.

“A lot of people use that excuse—‘I was just doing what I had to.’ Those are usually the people who are too scared to try something new.” He studied Verso’s face, carefully watching the old man for a sign of weakening. “There’s always a choice.”

Verso twitched.

“You understand nothing, boy. The years still stretch before you, full of possibility. You haven’t even seen sixteen summers yet. What do you know of duty, of sacrifice, that fills a whole lifetime?”

“Not much,” Mark interrupted, with a slight smile. “But I know I was right about one thing. That wasn’t the speech of a lifelong servant.”

Verso looked straight at Mark then, and Mark felt the force of his stare. But it was an oddly approving look.

“I would like to tell you all, Mark. I would. And you will know the truth, soon enough. But I am here for my own reasons, and you are not my confessor. First, I must—”

“Mark! Verso! Where are you?”

Ben’s shouts drowned the old man’s words. She was running down the tunnel, breathless and excited. She was closer than she seemed, another effect of the strange black rock—Mark had not heard her approach.

“Ben, what are you—?” he managed to stammer out before she reached him, grabbed his sleeve, and pulled him to his feet.

“We’ve met them! And they know where she is! Come on! We’ve found her!” Ben pulled at him, babbling. Mark yanked back his arm.

“Slow down, Ben. Who are you talking about?”

Mark stopped speaking, realization stealing over him. There was only one person she could be talking about.

“Lily?” he said. Ben laughed.

“Yes, Lily! Who did you think?” she said, mockingly, hitting the side of his head in a playful tap. “Laud’s with the people who live down here now … They’re a queer bunch…”

But Mark was no longer listening. He and Ben raced back along the corridor, leaving Verso struggling to catch up.

The other end of the tunnel opened out into a large cave, filled with tables, cooking pots, and a crowd of people. Mark registered a confused, chattering mass of white hair and bright, garish clothes. But one—a portly, round-faced man—was deep in conversation with Laud, who looked happier than Mark had ever seen him before.

“Is she…?” Mark asked, trying to get his breath back. Laud nodded, furiously.

“Down in the lower caves. The Conductor, here, has been explaining it to me. He’s been very obliging, but don’t offer to shake his hand. I thought he was going to faint.” Laud pressed his hands to his temples, as if trying to shake his thoughts into some kind of order. “Apparently, they have to offer assistance to anyone who comes out of the silent tunnel, so they’re going to take us to her right away…” And for the first time ever, Mark saw Laud’s face split with a genuine grin of delight. “No tricks, no traps, they’re going to help us because of some ancient rule. At last these old secrets are working for us!”

Behind them, Verso finally caught up, wheezing but excited.

“Well, my boy, are you going to wait here all day?”

Mark snapped into action, turning to the portly man, the one Laud had called the Conductor.

“Can we go right away?” Mark asked, eagerly. The Conductor swallowed, nervously twisting a baton behind his ear with his free hand.

“Yes, but … she has asked not to be disturbed…”

“I really think she’ll make an exception for us,” Mark said, laughing.

The Conductor bowed his head, obviously giving up on his attempt to understand what was going on.

“Follow me,” he said.

*   *   *

Mark barely registered the wonder of Naru as he followed the Conductor. He, Laud, Ben, and Verso were led through caves of extraordinary splendor, past towering pillars of crystal and fathomless depths. He didn’t even stop to look at the people, with their huge, dark eyes and curious chatter. He caught Benedicta’s eye, and saw in her the same thing that he was feeling—relief. Wondrous, blissful relief. In the end, it had been strangely easy to track Lily down. It hadn’t taken months of perilous travel; they hadn’t had to fight their way through the Order of the Lost. And now, at last, he could admit all the things he had been fearing. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t alone, or mad, or captured by enemies. She wasn’t suffering because she had gone chasing after him. It wasn’t his fault.

The Conductor led them to a small, dark tunnel, sporadically illuminated with crystals. Mark could make out steeply descending stone steps.

“She is down here,” the Conductor said, anxiously. “But, she is listening to the Canticle. Perhaps you would rather wait…”

Mark didn’t hear the end of that sentence. As one, all four of them were already clattering down the steps.

Ben and Laud hurried forward, determination in their eyes. Behind him, Mark heard Verso struggling down the steps, leaning against the wall for support. Despite his eagerness, Mark turned back to ask if the old man needed any help.

“No, no,” he gasped. “You go on. I’ll catch up.”

Mark nodded and, free of his charge, he flew down the steps, passing Laud and Ben. Up ahead, Mark could hear a strange sound. A haunting, floating kind of music. And all around them, there was another sound, just out of hearing—like a thousand whispers, speaking all at once. But still, they pressed on, deeper and deeper, with the sounds growing ever louder, until their ears rang.

And then they were at the mouth of another cave, and they saw her.

She was sitting with her back to them, at a strange harpsichord, made of polished, black wood. Her hands were frantically moving across a series of spinning glass bowls, producing wild music. Her head was thrown back, every inch of her body was tense, moving this way and that with the flow of the whispers that raced around the room. She was so totally absorbed she seemed almost part of the sound itself.

“Lily?” Ben said, astonished, but Lily didn’t hear her.

“Lily!” Laud shouted at the top of his voice, but there was no reaction.

Scarcely knowing what he was doing, Mark ran forward, knocking over a discarded plate of food, and dashing a lantern to the ground. He reached the instrument.

He caught a glimpse of Lily’s eyes, and faltered. They were fixed, ecstatic. She was mouthing along to something he couldn’t hear, filled with passion he couldn’t guess at. She looked extraordinary. But she looked nothing like his friend. She was barely human.

He slammed his hands down on the spinning bowls.

There was a shrieking discord. And the whispers fled.

Lily convulsed as though struck by lightning. Mark reached forward, but Laud was already there to catch her as she fell back, and Ben took her hand as she flung it out.

She shook, babbling something about truth, and secrets, and being so close.

And then, to his relief, her eyes began to focus.

“Get off me … I need to go back … I need to … what … I…?” She peered at him, as if through a haze. And then her mouth fell open. “Mark? Mark!” She flung herself forward, grabbing his face. “It … I … what?”

“Glad to hear you’ve been practicing your oratory,” Laud said, in a tone that mixed humor and tenderness so perfectly that Mark barely recognized it. Lily twisted her head around, and laughed in delight.

“Laud!” she cried, clasping him in a hug.

“Do I have to insult you to get a mention?” Benedicta asked, warmly. Lily turned her head, her smile broadening.

“Ben! I can’t believe it … how did you find me? I thought I knew everything here, but … how?”

“Well, we had a little help,” Mark replied, spotting Verso appearing in the cave entrance. But before he could point out the old man, Lily reached out an arm, and grabbed Mark in a tearful embrace.

“I thought … this would be it … the rest of my life with nothing but the dark, and the whispers and … oh…” Lily hugged all three of them so tightly Mark thought his back would break.

“It’s a miracle; it’s…”

She stopped. Mark looked up, smiling. But Lily’s cheer had vanished. She was staring at the entrance to the cavern, with a look of wary hostility.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked.

All eyes turned to Verso, standing quietly at the base of the stairs.

“He led us here,” Ben said, clearly puzzled. “Without him, we’d never have found our way…” Ben trailed off, clearly alarmed by Lily’s expression. “What is it, Lily? Do you know him?”

Slowly, Lily nodded.

“Mark, Laud, Ben,” she said, quietly. “I’d like to introduce you to the ruler of Agora.”

Quietly, as though shedding an old skin, Verso seemed to change. He straightened, his limbs ceased to tremble, his whole attitude altered. Authority settled on him like a cloak. When he spoke again, his voice was clear, and utterly calm.

“How pleasant to meet you again, Miss Lilith,” said the Director of Receipts.