With a frustrated sigh, I turned back.
Marcellious stood at the cavern entrance.
Malik was nowhere to be seen.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“Treacherous footing. There’s a narrow walkway about this wide,” Marcellious said, spreading his thumb and forefinger apart.
“I hit a dead end—a vertical drop. There is no way down without proper equipment. And I have no idea what kind of ropes exist in this period,” I admitted. “It’s strange, knowing the technology of different centuries but not being able to access it when you need it.”
“I hear that. I don’t yet have the privilege of the twenty-first century,” he said, gripping the arm holding his torch. “That must be something to behold.”
“It is. They have these incredible modes of transport—out of this world. I want to get a motorcycle.”
Marcellious shot me a skeptical look. “What’s a motorcycle?”
“A two-wheeled machine powered by an engine. It moves faster than a chariot or a galloping horse,” I said, grinning as I recalled seeing one in Seattle.
“Really?”
“Yes. You know that rush when you’re racing across the plains on horseback? Imagine going twice as fast.” The thought alone sent a thrill through me.
Marcellious’ face lit up. “Fuck, yeah, that would be fun.”
I smiled. “Yes. Fuck, yeah.”
A shuffling sound made us turn as Malik emerged from the archway to my right.
“Gentlemen, we have our work cut out for us, do we not?” he said, brushing dust from his coat.
“What did you find?” I asked.
“A passage too narrow for even a child to squeeze through,” Malik replied, stopping beside us. “You?”
I gestured downward. “Straight drop.”
“Narrow ledge with death on either side,” Marcellious added. “And a lot of potholes. If we dig into them, we might find something below.”
Malik nodded thoughtfully. “I say we head back and see if Count Montego has the necessary supplies. If not, we’ll have to forge our way into town.”
With that, we retraced our steps through the snow, the cold biting into our bones.
Smoke curled from the chimneys of the count’s palace, drifting in blue-gray tendrils across the sky.
Upon dismounting, we thrust the ends of our torches into the snowdrifts, the flames hissing into silence. I stamped the snow from my bootsbefore stepping into the mudroom at the back of the house. Stripping off my coat, leather gloves, and scarf, I hung them on the hooks to dry.
Marcellious and Malik followed suit.
We tromped through the kitchen, where the air was thick with the mouthwatering scents of roasting meat and simmering sauces.
Maids bustled between cauldrons, stirring fragrant broths, while a pig and a deer rotated on a spit over the fire.
My stomach tightened with hunger. Life on the road had often meant stale bread and whatever we could hunt. A real meal would be a luxury.
Count Montego awaited us in the dining hall with a cup of tea. A silver tray of sweetmeats and cheeses rested on the table before him.
“Our intrepid explorers return!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “What’s the news from the depths of the cavern?”
