19
STRON
“Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating when I said I knew what every underground world was like,” Adryel said, her face and hair obscured from the hooded cloak Baba had given her to wear. Two low lumps stuck up under the hood, her hair bundled into knots that gave her a silhouette of horns, another idea from Baba.
He really needed to speak to his grandmother about how she is so aware of ways to disguise herself. She truly had too much fun helping Adryel prepare for the trip to see Knobb.
And Adryel, to her credit, got up without any sign of the Depth causing her to be sick, as it sometimes could.
Impressive as it was, he still didn’t want her coming with him into the underground, but she wouldn’t have it.
Nor would Baba.
He tried arguing with them, but neither of them would hear it.
Baba insisted that he keep her with him at all times. Stron tried to insist that Adryel wasn’t his mate, but Baba wouldn’t believe him.
Even Adryel tried to argue that she wasn’t his mate, but arguing with Baba about anything always proved to be a waste of energy.
Instead, he was stuck with this tagalong that was only going to make this trek harder.
Especially when she kept bragging about how she knew how to handle any kind of organized crime den.
At least until they arrived.
“What were you expecting?” Stron asked as they walked through the cave.
“More trees. More lights and seedy looking bars. Not this. It feels like we’re exploring caves.” She gestured her hand in the moist air. The roughly carved walls arched over their heads, much of the tunnels were naturally occurring.
Or influenced by construction.
Other Kantenans walked around them, on their own errands, many moving like they attempted to get their tasks done and get out. An urgency filled the air.
No one wanted to be here, if they didn’t have to be.
At least, no one with honest means.
Those who had more nefarious purpose, though, watched. Stron could feel eyes on them as they walked through the tunnels, and he kept his pace aligned with Adryel’s, not wanting any of those observers that milled about to take notice of her.
And keep it light, because he didn’t want her suspecting anything. “At one point, this was the height of our society.”
“We’re walking through your people’s history?”
“In a way.” He gestured to the remains of carvings on the wall, now painted and emphasizing the art made centuries before. “Those markings are ancient.”
She paused. “And you all painted it?”
“Not me, personally,” he said, surprised at her outrage.
“Somewhere, an intergalactic archaeologist is crying right now.” She shook her head and kept walking forward.
“Because we emphasized the lines that were made by our ancestors, to keep them visible?”
“It damages whatever they used to make it originally.” What he could see of the firm set of her jaw showed her outrage that the carvings were painted to preserve them.
“Where do you get your facts?”
“From a guy I know,” she replied, crossing her arms.
