“Yep.”
“I guess you’re not only an herb merchant but a bit of a potion-maker yourself.”
“It’s just simple chemistry,” I said.
“No magic, then?”
“Magic is a word people use when they don’t understand how things work.”
Darion looked my way, fighting a smile.
“What’s so funny?”I asked.
“Not funny.Interesting.”
“I’m not sure interesting is better.”
“I just wouldn’t have taken you for a skeptic of magic,” Darion said, still smiling, almost laughing.“You know, since you sell herbs to people who use them to makemagicpotions.”
“I’m not saying their potions do nothing.Just that there are logical explanations that don’t involve magic,” I said.“I don’t trust most of the fantastical legends I hear.I need proof before I’ll believe something.”
“Wise beyond your years,” Darion said without a hint of sarcasm.“Who taught you to think like that?”
Images of my father instructing me on the finer points of potioncraft flashed through my mind—his infinite patience, deep wisdom, and loving tenderness.His absence was palpable, a dark stain on my heart.The buoyed feeling I got from being around Darion deflated slightly.I instinctively reached for my locket but then quickly moved my hand away.I had no desire to talk about my parents or dredge up old memories, so I simply shrugged.
Darion nodded with tight lips, seeming to sense my hesitancy, and said nothing more.Our unspoken pact of respecting each other’s secrets remained in effect.
The cobbled path gave way to dirt and gravel.What had once been an alley became decidedly more twisted and cave-like.The crunching of our footsteps echoed off the walls.
“We’re getting close,” I said.“Keep your eyes open for the entrance.”
“And watch out for bone rats,” Darion added.He seemed to read the skepticism on my face.“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in bone rats either.”
“Oh, I believe in them, just not that they are telepathic or can walk through walls,” I said.
“All you need to believe is that a swarm of them can kill you in seconds.”
“ThatI believe.”
A moment later, Darion pointed ahead of us.“There.There’s the rupture.”
The “entrance” to the catacombs was a long jagged crack in the stone wall, barely wide enough for an average-size person to slip through.It was likely the result of an underground tremor many years ago.The catacombs were never meant to be accessible to the public, but the wardens of the Royal Tombs either didn’t know about the rupture or didn’t deem it a risk, since it was on the opposite end of miles of twisting, mazelike tunnels.
Anyone foolish enough to attempt the trek will be food for the bone rats, the wardens likely thought.
Darion and I stood shoulder to shoulder, peering into the crack and the inky blackness beyond.A shiver ran from my core to my extremities, which I wanted to think was because of the tunnel’s coldness, not the sinking feeling coming over me.
“How muchscoutingdo you plan on doing?”Darion asked.“Are we going in?”
With Darion in tow, I had only imagined getting to the entrance, then turning around.But now it seemed foolish to have come all this way without even goingintothe catacombs.I was reasonably certain it had nothing to do with trying to impress Darion.
“It couldn’t hurt to go in,” I said, sounding even more uncertain than I felt.
“After you,” Darion said, gesturing toward the entrance.
The crack was narrow enough that I had to go in sideways, and it sloped, so I had to arch backward to fit.I removed my pack and shimmied through, the jagged edges of the rock rubbing against my back.
Halfway through, it occurred to me what a compromised position I was in.What did I really know about Darion?A simple dagger to my side would finish me, and I wouldn’t be able to defend myself.My heart rate kicked up, and I fought back a wave of panic.How could I have been so stupid?Why did I think I could trust him?
