“You don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to,” Naia said as they returned to the main tunnel.
Amri held a finger to his lips with one hand, gesturing over his shoulder with the other, indicating the maudra’s chamber.
“Shh. She can still hear us.”
Kylan scanned the tunnel for Tavra, who clearly had no desire to stand alone in the cold dark. He hoped she had not found trouble. Naia didn’t seem to be worried, so he let it go, too. The Silverling was well equipped to fend for herself if need be. He just hoped she wouldn’t cause any problems . . . especially as the Grottan maudra had agreed to help them.
They walked in silence until the tunnel opened again into the central cavern, and Kylan took a breath of air. The caves were less frightening now that they’d met with the maudra, but they were still caves, underground, in the dark. He wanted nothing more than to escape out the top of the cavern and find an open green field to lie in, but saying so would be rude, and they had a firca to find.
“You really don’t have to come,” Naia repeated.
“It’s not that I don’t want to leave,” Amri replied. “I would just rather go anywhere else than Ha’rar. Eh! I suppose I should be pleased that Maudra Argot is letting me leave the cave at all. Oh well, at least I might have a chance to surprise the All-Maudra. Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on her face when a Grottan appears in court!”
The burst of youthful energy surprised Kylan. Now that Amri had been released from his guard duty, he was shaking the seriousness off like a fizzgig that had come in out of the rain.
“Speaking of Silverlings. Where is your silver friend?”
Naia shrugged. “Maybe she left for Ha’rar. It’s something that she has been wanting to do very much.”
“Hm,” Amri said. “It may not be good for her to be wandering around. Many of our people have never seen daylighters before, and if they have any opinions about the Vapra, they are bad ones. We should find her. I know a place to look.”
He started farther up the cavern’s perimeter walkway, and they followed. Music drifted down from above, slow and harmonic, from wind instruments Kylan couldn’t identify. He kept an eye out for Tavra, but she was nowhere to be found. Maybe Naia was right, and she’d finally given up on her wards and left to pursue Rian and Ha’rar herself. Kylan felt bittersweet imagining that she might have. On the one hand, it might be a relief to be free of her relentlessly negative attitude. On the other, though, he realized he would miss her if she were gone, and worry about her suffering alone from her ordeal at the castle.
Amri guided them upward until the stairway ended at a round half chamber carved in the dream-etching-covered wall, with a fire pit dug directly into the stone floor. Three Grottan Gelfling knelt by the fire, each with a different-size reed instrument. The pipes produced the same sounds, but in different keys, and the result was a lovely adagio that warmed the otherwise dreary chamber. When they arrived, the musicians paused. They locked their black eyes on Kylan and Naia, but when they saw Amri was with them, they relaxed.
Tavra was not at the hearth. From the ledge of the chamber they could see most of the interior of the cavern. Kylan stood near the edge and scanned the walkways and stairs for her silver cloak, but saw nothing.
“Aside from the writing, this reminds me of Great Smerth, back home,” Naia said, her searching relaxed as if she might prefer they didn’t find Tavra at all. Amri stood by, the least interested in looking, his focus entirely on Naia.
“I’ve heard of the Drenchen mother-tree,” he exclaimed. “Is it true it’s as old and wise as Olyeka-Staba?”
Naia lit up at the chance to talk about her homeland.
“All our people can fit inside,” she said. “And its heartwood echoes with the sound of music and birds during the spring festival . . . Great Smerth is old and wise. I’m not sure any tree is like the Cradle-Tree.”
“In that case, I would like to visit both. Can you arrange this?”
Naia laughed, just a little brighter than usual.
They gazed down upon the cavern for long enough to know that if Tavra was walking one of the passes, she did not want to be seen. There was no sign of the Silverling anywhere. Kylan wondered where she could have gone in such a short time. Then again, he didn’t know how far the caves went, or how easy they were to traverse.
“Do you all live near this cavern, or do the Grottan occupy the whole under-mountain?”
Amri tilted his head, much like Maudra Argot had.
“You daylighters really don’t know much, do you?” he asked, but the question was more amused than critical. “We’re a bitty people. There are thirty-seven of us, so yes, we all live near the grand chamber.”
“Thirty-seven,” Naia said. “At least it must be easy to hold village meetings!”
Amri laughed, a sound that was almost comedic in itself, such a bubbling, goofy noise coming out of what Kylan had originally seen as a serious, frightening creature.
“Yes! We shout into the heart of the cave, and the echoes take care of the rest. No need for gatherings when you can holler. That’s what Maudra Argot says. Ahh . . . I can’t imagine what it must be like to be Vapra or even Sifa, with so many Gelfling to call kin. I couldn’t remember all their names. I can barely remember the names of my own cousins.”
“I’m sure the All-Maudra doesn’t know the names of all under her wing,” Naia said. “We’ve been through Stone-in-the-Wood as well, a village of several hundred.”
“Stone-in-the-Wood!” Amri cried. “Oh, I envy you. I’ve heard the peach-berry is the sweetest in this world. Why can’t we go there instead of Ha’rar?”
The musicians stopped again when voices echoed in alarm. Down below, near the base of the cavern, a small group of Grottan Gelfling clustered around a silver-and-white-clad figure. The only thing Kylan could see from so far away was that the Vapra’s sword was out, shining as she brandished it at the Grottan.
“Tavra! What’s she doing now?”
Naia flicked her wings, but hesitated at leaping. She hadn’t actually begun gliding yet, and there were plenty of jagged, sharp spires and rocks waiting below. The three of them ran down the stairs as quickly as they could.
“Why get into a fight at a time like this?” Kylan panted.
“Who knows what’s going through her head these days!”
When they reached the landing where Tavra and the others were, Kylan could see that it was not a fight—or at least, it hadn’t started that way. In fact, it looked as though the Grottan were trying to help, though their words of concern were cut short by Tavra’s blade.
“Get back!” the Silverling shouted. “Back away from me, all of you!”
“Tavra!” Naia shouted as they shoved their way to the front. Tavra was bleeding from the neck, using the hand that was not wielding her blade to press a cloth against the wound. The Grottan backed away, holding their hands up in peace, some fleeing the situation altogether.
“Tavra, what’s going on?”
Tavra let Naia and Kylan near so they could check the wound. Amri remained with the other Grottan, easing them back and away from the angry Vapra’s sword.
“One of these damned Shadowlings attacked me in the tunnel!” Tavra hissed through clenched teeth. “Ambushed me in the dark with a knife and ran off before I could pay back the favor. Come and get it, cave crawlers! Try once more to cut a daughter of the All-Maudra!”
The whispering hush swelled. One of the All-Maudra’s daughters? It makes no difference. She is Vapra. Even worse!
“No one touched the sun-spot!” shouted one voice above the whispers, and Tavra’s grip quivered, as if so thirsty to draw Grottan blood, she could barely control herself. Still, she let Kylan pull the cloth back to see the wound—a sharp blade had cut her white neck, narrowly missing her crystal earring. Blood barely flowed from the wound, and Tavra’s skin felt cold to the touch, but Kylan couldn’t worry about that now.
“Naia,” he said. “Can you heal her?”
“I think so, but she’ll need to calm down. Stop waving that sword around, for starters!”
Kylan reached out and put his hand on Tavra’s, easing it down. To his surprise, she responded, lowering the blade until the tip nearly touched the rocky platform where they stood. She didn’t let go of the hilt, but became still enough that Naia and Kylan were able to get her to sit.
“Can you leave us?” Kylan asked Amri and the other Grottan. “Please? We’ll find you soon and figure out what’s going on.”
When they were alone, Kylan repeated his words.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that they’ll murder me before we leave these caves,” Tavra growled. “These crypts will become my tomb.”
“Oh, stop it,” Naia said. “What were you doing in the tunnels, anyway?”
“Nothing. Did you get the firca?”
“Not exactly. The Grottan do have it, but it’s not here. They’re going to let us have it, to use it for our message. Amri is taking us to where it is. Then he’s coming with us, to Ha’rar.”
“Oh? My life is in danger and you’re still thinking of trusting them and staying in these caves?”
Naia held her hands out near the cut. Blue vliyaya light grew, as it had when she had healed Gurjin. The cut was but a flesh wound compared to the battery and starvation Gurjin had endured, and in a moment it was closed and no longer in danger of draining the Vapra of her blood on top of her already-drained life essence. Kylan remembered the chill he’d felt on Tavra’s skin . . . Perhaps she was doing far worse than she had been letting on. While Naia finished the healing, he gathered his courage.
“Tavra . . . are you all right?” he asked, the question coming out much meeker than he would have liked. There was no way she would respect him with a voice like that! He tried again, and it sounded better, stronger: “If you’re suffering because of what happened at the castle, you can tell us . . . We want to help you.”
He expected an immediate denial, but got an uneasy silence instead. Naia arched a brow as if to say what are you doing? but she didn’t interfere.
“You’ve just seemed . . . different, is all,” he continued. “You don’t have to be strong for us. We know what you’ve been through. And we’re not trying to delay your return to Ha’rar—it’s just that we promised to take care of our part of this.”
Kylan held his breath. Any moment, he thought, Tavra’s protest would begin. Before it kept him from saying the rest of what he wanted to say, he said it.
“I understand why you want to be home, and we want you to be home, too. So you can rest.”
“Tch. You do not understand me at all.”
Tavra’s reply was as far from what Kylan had hoped for as it could be. The words were so cold, he hardly knew how to react. Naia was quiet, too, but from the clenched jaw and angled-back ears, he could tell she was more angry than hurt by Tavra’s blunt disappointment.
“Let’s just get the firca and be on our way,” Naia said. “Kylan, go find Amri and ask if he can take us to the Tomb right now. Ask Maudra Argot if you have to. I’ll wait here with Tavra.”