315.82 grams cirium
THEY ARE WAITING for us when we emerge.
I’ve never seen so many guards assembled at one time. The commissary stands at their apex, his gaze fixed on something above us.
Someone repaired the sign. It hangs in place above the tunnels, like my act of defiance never happened. WE ARE THE FORTUNATE ONES.
I want to take my axe to it all over again. Instead, I cradle my injured arm against my chest and force myself to think of words like consequences.
Cranny stares at me. His eyes slip down my hair, a mess of tangles streaming from beneath my skullcap, to the knives strapped onto my arms, the harness that buckles across my suit, down to my boots. Dram takes a half step closer to me.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Cranny says. “I’ve summoned the cavers for an announcement in the Rig.” His words fill me with panic—more than I felt when the bat caught in my hair. He smiles, just at me, and my breath freezes in my chest.
“Let’s go,” Dram murmurs. He stares at Cranny, too. But he isn’t smiling back. He looks like he wants to see what his axe would do to Cranny’s body.
We follow the other cavers into the crowded house. Benches fill half the room, most of them full. Cavers still wear their suits. Some hold bandages to bloody injuries. Cranny is in a hurry to give us this news, whatever it is.
He strides to the front of the room. Jameson follows like a shadow.
“The food that fills your bellies,” he says, scanning the faces of the cavers. “Who provides it?”
“What’s a full belly?” I mutter. Dram kicks my foot.
The cavers remain silent except for a few coughs of those still clearing their lungs of particle dust.
“I will ask you again,” Cranny says. “Who gives you food?”
“The Congress,” a man says.
“And the clothes you wear?”
“Congress.” A few others join in.
“What about your homes? Your serums? Your light and warmth? The only thing standing between you and the flash curtain is this outpost.”
A tense silence fills the Rig.
“Your lead ore scout raised her axe in anger, lashing out at the government that protects us. She doesn’t consider Subpars at Outpost Five fortunate. But then, she’s never set foot in a cordon.”
The word hangs in the air. Cordon. I feel it like a draft on my neck.
A few cavers glance at me, some angry, most with pity in their eyes. They know Cranny will make an example of me.
“Do you feel her actions should go unpunished?”
Dram slowly draws his axe from its holster.
“Not one of you stopped her,” Cranny says, letting the implication hang in the air. The cavers look at each other, and I see mostly alarm. This isn’t just about me anymore.
Cranny watches us with a look of satisfaction, apparently pleased we’re all finally catching on. “You will all share in the consequences of her actions.”
Beside me, Dram tenses. I can’t breathe.
“Tomorrow you will all descend tunnel nine, and she will guide you to the new vein of ore. The three cavers who mine the least will be sent to the burnt sands of Cordon Four.”
Silence descends over the crowd—except for me. I’m making a sound like another flash bat just clamped onto my arm.
I lurch to my feet. “Director.” Cranny’s dark eyes fasten on me. “I was the one who damaged the sign.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. “I take full responsibility. Please don’t make anyone else suffer for what I did.”
“Since the cavers are so eager to follow you,” Cranny says, “you will guide them down nine.”
My stomach drops. I think of Gabe with his non-hands, Ennis, who is the oldest of us, and—my gaze shoots to the little girl—Winn. She probably has no idea what Cranny’s talking about. She doesn’t know she will be sent to her death. She can’t swing hard enough to mine the dense walls of the deepest tunnel. And if nine doesn’t take her, the sands will.
“Give us time to form another team,” I say. “Dram and I will bring up the cirium.”
“Her last team was attacked by tunnel gulls!” a man shouts.
“That wasn’t her fault!” Dram twists in his seat.
“This is outrageous!” Blaine Cresley jumps to his feet. “I’ve done nothing.” He tosses a look in my direction, like I’m an orbie he found on his arm. “You can’t force me down nine—every caver you’ve sent with them has died!”
Cranny’s hard gaze gleams like obsidian. I want to yell for Blaine to stop, to shut his mouth now, before—
Cranny nods to the guards at the back of the room. Two of them stride forward and grab Blaine under the arms.
“What are you doing?” he cries. The crowd parts as the guards drag him toward the door.
“Tunnel nine,” Cranny says curtly. “Minimum descent of four hundred meters.”
“No!” Blaine cries. “I haven’t charged my lights, I don’t have any rations—”
“You’re going to get acquainted with tunnel nine,” Cranny says, his eyes alight. “Maybe then you won’t be so scared come the morning.”
I realize my hand is wrapped around Dram’s. I’ve never seen him so angry, but he’s not afraid. He grips the bench so hard with his free hand that I see the whites of his knuckles.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Keeping myself out of an impossible fight.”
I hold his hand tighter and wonder if I have the strength to hold him back.
Or if, perhaps, this is a fight I’ve already pulled him into.
* * *
My father sends the summons in the dead of night. It passes secretly from house to house, until every caver slips through our door, silent and undetected. Even little Winn arrives in the care of Dram and Lenore.
No one speaks, except my father who explains, in a hushed undertone, the plan we’ve devised. Cranny’s plan is flawed, and we intend to exploit it so no one has to die.
“If you agree to this,” he says softly, “every caver will have the same amount of ore. There won’t be three lowest-producing cavers to send to the sands.”
“You’re assuming we’re going to survive the tunnel in the first place,” Roland murmurs.
“Yes, I am,” Dad says. “Dram and Orion will each lead a team. Anyone injured or older, anyone who can’t fit through the neck of nine, will go an alternate path with Dram.”
“If there’s an easier path, why don’t we all go that way?” Gabe asks.
“It’s not easier,” I say. “Just more accessible.”
“It’s riskier,” Dram says. “Orion and I have marked gull nests along that path.”
They stare at him blankly, and I realize that most have no idea what a tunnel gull is. I put my hand on Dram’s arm before he can explain. It’s probably best they don’t know.
“There’s nothing we can do about the transmitters in your suits,” I say, “but on your way to the tunnels tomorrow, dust your suits with the cinders from the fire pits. It will give you better camouflage and help cover your scent.”
“From what?” Winn asks.
The cavers remain silent. They’ve seen enough of my and Dram’s injuries to have a fair idea of some of nine’s predators.
“Don’t worry,” Lenore whispers. She squeezes Winn’s hand. “Just stay close to me.”
“The ore is fifteen meters off the ground,” I say. “The best climbers among us will be belayed by a ground team. The rest will collect the ore and deflect the water from the climbers.”
“The water?” Owen asks. “What kind of water?”
“The water that flows down the stone,” Dram answers. “It’s filled with orbies.”
Owen curses.
“Why don’t we just devise something to kill them?” Roland asks.
“Anything strong enough to destroy the orbies would harm you,” Dad says. “Dram and Orion will bear the brunt of the danger. I’ve coated their suits with tar to give them another layer of protection.”
“The rest of you need to wear two pairs of gloves,” I add. “You’ll use your flash blankets like splash guards.”
“We’re out of time,” Graham whispers, glancing out the window. “Guards will be making the rounds any moment now.” His eyes narrow. “Here comes Ennis, with the boy from the lodge…” He breaks off as the two slip through the door. Even in the sparse light, I can see their faces are pale.
“What’s happened?” Dad asks.
“Roran and I passed the tunnels on the way here.” Ennis glances at the boy. “The guards were dragging Blaine’s body from nine. Gulls got him.”
I shut my eyes, picturing it all too clearly. Foolish man probably had every light on his suit lit up. And his transmitter, calling to the birds like a dinner bell.
Winn starts to cry. Roran walks over and sits beside her. Something in my heart twists.
“No lights on your suits tomorrow,” I say softly. “Speak only when necessary. You’ll usually hear the danger before you see it.” The cavers nod. A few stare, wide-eyed—mostly tunnel one’s team. Roran’s eyes focus on me like my words are the key to his survival and he intends to live. He holds a rock in his hands that he flips over and over. “Conserve your air,” I continue. “You’re going deeper than you ever have before.”
“Keep your knife close and be ready to use it,” Dram adds. “Don’t hesitate. Kill anything that gets close.” Cavers from one are shaking their heads. They’ve never used their knives on anything but climbing line. Roran’s gaze settles on Dram. There’s no fear in his expression—about killing or things getting close down the tunnel. He seems … resolved, and I can’t imagine what in Alara prepared him for this. Winn’s small shoulders shake, and without even looking at her, he leans closer.
“Subpars are really good at caving, Winn,” I say, wishing there was some way I could spare her this. “We do it every day. Just stay close to Lenore.” I can’t tell her stay close to me. I will be where the danger is worst. “Never go past a red light.”
She nods.
I search the crowd of cavers. “Where’s Reeves?”
“Here.”
“I need you to go with Dram’s team. He’s marked gull nests along that route.” Reeves survived four, facing down the creatures in utter darkness and, if the rumors are true, ate what he killed. As a former lead ore scout, his senses are tuned to his surroundings like mine, and he’s the best defense Dram’s team has.
“Ennis?”
“Here.” The oldest caver lifts his hand, his Radband glowing dark amber.
“You’re in charge of weighing the ore. Make sure everyone brings up the same amount.”
He nods. Ennis can judge ore weight at a glance.
“Owen?” He shifts from the shadows.
“I have some thoughts about bringing down the ore. I need you paying attention to structural support.”
Owen nods. “I’ll make sure we don’t get buried down there.”
“Guard’s coming,” Graham says.
Dad pinches out the candle, and everyone leaves, soundlessly bleeding into the night.
Except Dram. Our shoulders brush as we sit in darkness, whispering through the details of tomorrow’s descent.
At some point Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Take this,” he says, handing me his nutrition packet. “You need your strength tomorrow.”
“Lenore and I will share with her,” Dram says. “Even if everything goes according to plan, we’re going to need you when we come up. You need your strength as much as we do.”
Dad nods and leaves us to find his bed. My stomach growls.
“Tell me again why you’re on half rations?” Dram asks.
Remembering Cranny’s after-hours visit makes my stomach knot.
“I was noncompliant,” I murmur. At Dram’s raised brow, I shrug. “I scouted past the boundary marker.”
He makes a scoffing sound and shakes his head. “Glenting Cranny.”
“Glenting?” I ask. “What is that?”
“Conjie curse word. A really bad one.”
I’m wondering how Dram learned a Conjie curse word and, more importantly, why he hasn’t shared it with me before now.
Glenting. I consider its uses. Glenting Cranny. Glenting tunnel nine.
Thinking of nine effectively kills my appetite, so instead of focusing on my hunger, or my fear about all the things that could go wrong tomorrow, I traverse the tunnel in my mind, going over each obstacle with Dram. His deep voice steadies me now as it does beneath the earth.
The director is sending us down nine to teach us a lesson. He expects cavers to die completing a nearly impossible task. If we pull this off, it will say more than breaking the sign ever could.
It will show that we are more than what the Congress tells us we are.