The man’s nose scrunched. “Try.”
Jesstin shook his head and started toward the edge of the right gate. His arrogance evaporated in an instant about three feet from the empty space. He took a step back, turned to his side, and retched into the dirt. A few murmured fucks followed as he wiped his face.
Elloven didn’t need her own demonstration. “So you’ll let us through?”
“You don’t read?” The man was aghast. “One way.”
“We read the signs. We understand,” she said sweetly.
“One way,” he said, emphasizing again.
“We’re only going one way, sir.”
It was hard to tell whether his furtiveness was more for his or their benefit, but did it matter? They couldn’t go back. There was no other way out, and Jesstin would be as good as dead if he stayed. And if the door to the Halls of Ilyn could again be opened, maybe they could help millions reach their eternal peace. Herself included.
But what would happen to her once they cleared the gate? Was it, in fact, a door? Jesstin had been told there were several doors, but his information had come from people who apparently knew very little. What if there was only one, and the gate was it? What would happen to her? To him?
Elloven realized the answer didn’t matter as much as she’d assumed it would. They’d been at the mercy of fate for weeks, and they could either stay, and accept an eternity of wallowing in the Infinitum, or take a leap of faith.
“Unlock the gates.” Jesstin’s mouth was still puckered, like he might be sick again.
“Please,” she said.
“One way,” the man mumbled, but the defeat in his voice was their victory. He ambled to the row of padlocks and, one by one, clicked them open. “No havres. No cloisters. No districts.”
“What?” Elloven stepped closer to hear better. “There are no safe places at night?”
“Always night on the other side.”
The sun baked both sides of the gates, but it wouldn’t be the first illusion they’d encountered. “Then how do we keep safe from the fiends?”
He dug into his pockets and threw two wooden talismans into the dirt. Elloven knelt to collect them. They were carved into the shapes of the protective sigils. “These might keep them away.”
“They might?” Jesstin asked. “You can do better than that.”
“When did you last send a traveler through?” Elloven asked, stepping between them.
The guard at first seemed baffled by the question. “Time has no quarter here.”
“When?” she gently asked.
He seemed unsure. “Never?”
No wonder he was so jumpy around people. Elloven surveyed the distance but knew it wouldn’t tell her anything. They wouldn’t know the horrors awaiting them until it was too late to turn back.
She’d been dreading it all day, but she finally addressed Jesstin directly. “It’s your map. Your mission. What do you want to do?”
Jesstin shook his head at the gate, then the man. “This has the Conductor’s scent all over it.”
She could suggest there was another route, another way, but they’d been traveling for months. The map, however flawed, was all they had, and it had led them there. “Does that change anything?”
He shrugged, still shaking his head. “Only way out is through. I hope.”
“Do you want to go or not, Jesstin?” Elloven couldn’t hide her exasperation that time.
Jesstin crossed his arms and spun toward her. “Are you going to tell me what I’ve done wrong or continue to act like I should already know?”
It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. Did he really not know? Or was it misdirection? “Make a choice. I’ll follow either way.”
