Zira snorted. “The time for that has passed. Come along.”
They padded down the hall, tiptoeing into the faint glow of the room beyond. Sure enough, an elderly man was sleeping with his head tipped back, mouth open, drool cascading into the stubble of his cheek. He didn’t so much as stir as they inched across the room.
Once back into the relative darkness of the first row of cells, they moved faster again. Two men slept with their backs to the bars of the first two cells. Vi recognized the cell she had been thrown into as they passed it.
Zira led them down to the far end of the hall, to a black door nestled into a shadowed alcove. On the other side was a spiral stair, and down that was another hallway of cells that led to another black door.
Down they went—three, four levels of jail cells. Each level became more maze-like, with branches of halls leading off of it. Each level was more rough-hewn, carved into the bedrock that ran underneath the Waste.
Vi stared at the countless empty cells, wondering why there were so many. They seemed to stretch endlessly on into the darkness. All too soon, she answered her own question: the Burning Times. One of the darkest parts of Western history, during the reign of King Jadar, when he rounded up the Windwalkers of the East and used their magic for nefarious purposes.
She looked at the sword she was carrying. How many had died for this sword? Stopping the vicious cycle spiraling around the Crystal Caverns seemed as hopeless as counting every cell in this seemingly never-ending dungeon.
They came to a stop at an unassuming cell. With her thumb, Zira smoothed away the grime and cobwebs that coated the lock.
“Unlock it,” she ordered, and Vi did as she was told.
Zira entered the cell and went back to the cot in the corner. The furniture nearly disintegrated when she pushed it to the side and they were both left coughing through clouds of dust. But, as the haze settled, Vi could see a staircase winding down.
“A passage out,” Vi said, stating the obvious.
“Not used in over a year now. We might need to get a new cot to hide the entrance.”
“When was it last used?”
“During the siege, for scouts.”
“Is this the only hidden way out of the castle?”
“Yes.”
That explained why they never sent more than scouts. It was a secret too precious to be entrusted to many. And the passage appeared to be too narrow to fit more than a single person at a time—certainly not a way to get the mass amounts of soldiers it would take to launch a surprise attack out of Norin.
“Why didn’t King Rocham flee through here?” Vi asked.
“Because he was going to die on and for his land. The idea of flight or surrender never crossed the man’s mind. I only learned of it when Fiera entrusted me with that key—to save her siblings if that’s what it took.”
“Where does it lead?” Vi peered down into the darkness. It was so intense that not even the light of the torch Zira was holding could penetrate more than the first three steps.
“Southwest. It’ll let me out of a cliff side.”
“Just south of the ridge where all the nobles live?”
Zira paused, staring at Vi for a long moment. “Yes… How did you know?”
“I’m good with maps, and the terrain of the city made it an easy guess.” She wondered if this path was anywhere close to the one out of the Le’Dan estate.
Vi handed out the sword to Zira. With it, she felt like she was giving up a part of herself. She had never felt more vulnerable than when she watched Zira’s hands closing around the weapon. Doubt fluttered through her mind; the memory of Jayme’s betrayal rode on gossamer wings. Instinct told Vi not to trust Zira. But here Vi was, trusting despite every betrayal she had endured.
She was here in this world to bring about the end of cycles. And she’d start with the cycle of people she cared for betraying her.
“I’m putting all my faith in you with this.” Vi raised her eyes to Zira’s. “Don’t let me down,” she added softly.
“I wouldn’t. Letting you down would be letting Fiera down. If nothing else, trust that I will always do everything in my power to see the wishes of our Empress done. And she wishes the sword to be safe.”
It was nearly painful to uncurl her fingers from around the leathers. But Vi did it. “Fiarum evantes,” she whispered.
“Kotun un nox,” Zira replied, and then disappeared into the darkness.
