Authors: Trudi Canavan
“Madness,” he muttered, then raced toward Slig City.
It had been over a decade – nearly two – since dozens of street urchins had made a new home in the tunnels after the destruction
of their neighbourhood. They soon became the subject of scary stories told in bolhouses and to terrify children into obedience.
It was said that the Sligs never ventured into the sunlight and only emerged at night via sewers and cellars to steal food
and play tricks on people. Some believed that they had bred into spindly, pale things with huge eyes that allowed them to
see in the dark. Others said they looked like any other street urchin, until they opened their mouths to reveal long fangs.
What all agreed on was that to venture into Slig territory was to invite death. From time to time someone would test that
belief. Most never returned, but a few had crawled out again, bleeding from stab wounds delivered by silent, unseen attackers
in the dark.
Locals left out offerings, hoping to avoid subterranean invasions of their homes. Cery, whose territory overlapped the Sligs’
in one corner, had arranged for someone to put food in one of the tunnels every few days, the sack marked with a picture of
his namesake, the little rodent ceryni.
It had been a while since he’d checked to make sure they were still doing so.
If they haven’t, then I’m probably not going to get a chance to punish them for it
.
Soon he spotted the markers that warned they were crossing into Slig territory. Then he stopped seeing them. He could hear
Anyi’s quick breathing behind him. Had the assassins dared to follow?
“Don’t,” Anyi gasped as he slowed to look over his shoulder. “They’re … right … behind … us.”
He had no breath to utter a curse. Air rasped in and out of his lungs. His whole body ached, and his legs wobbled as he forced
them to keep jogging onward. He made himself think of the danger Anyi was in. She would be the first one the assassins killed
if they caught up. He couldn’t let that happen.
Something grabbed at his ankles and he toppled forward.
The ground wasn’t as flat or hard as he expected, but heaved and rolled, and muffled curses were coming from it. Gol – now
invisible in utter darkness. The lamps had gone out. Cery rolled aside.
“Shut up,” a voice whispered.
“Do it, Gol,” Cery ordered. Gol fell silent.
Back down the passage, footsteps grew louder. Moving lights appeared, filtering through a curtain of roughly woven fabric
that Cery did not recall encountering.
It must have been dropped down after we passed it
. The footsteps slowed and
stopped. A sound came from another direction – more hurried footsteps. The lights moved away as their bearers continued in
pursuit.
After a long pause, several sighs broke the silence. A shiver ran down Cery’s spine as he realised he was surrounded by several
people. A thin beam of light appeared. One of the lamps. It was being held by a stranger.
Cery looked up at a young man, who was staring back at him.
“Who?” the man asked.
“Ceryni of Northside.”
“These?”
“My bodyguards.”
The man’s eyebrows rose, then he nodded. He turned to the others. Cery looked around to see six other young men, two sitting
on top of Gol. Anyi was in a fighting crouch, a knife in both hands. The two young men standing on either side of her were
keeping a safe distance, though they looked willing to risk a cut if their leader ordered them to take her down.
“Put them away, Anyi,” Cery said.
Without taking her eyes from them, she obeyed. At a nod from the leader, the two men climbed off Gol, who groaned with relief.
Cery rose to his feet, turned back to the leader and straightened his shoulders.
“We seek safe passage.”
The young man’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “No such thing nowaday.” He jabbed a thumb toward his chest. “Wen.” He turned
to speak to the others. “This name I know. One who leaves food. What we do?”
They exchanged glances, then muttered words to which he shook his head: “Kill?” “Free?” “Worm?” one said, and Wen looked thoughtful.
He nodded. “Worm,” he said decisively.
Somehow this resulted in nods, though whether of acceptance or agreement Cery couldn’t tell.
Wen turned to Cery. “You all come with us. We take you to Worm.” He gave Gol back his lamp, then looked at one of those who
had been sitting on the big man. “Go tell Worm.”
The young man scampered off into the darkness behind Wen. As Wen turned to follow, Anyi reached out and took her lamp back
from the youth holding it. Two of the youngsters hurried forward to join their leader Wen and the rest took positions at the
rear.
No one spoke as they walked. At first Cery only felt an overwhelming relief at simply not running any more, though his legs
were still shaky and his heart was beating too fast. Gol looked as winded as he did, he noted. As he recovered he began to
worry again. He’d never heard of anyone meeting with a Slig called Worm. Unless …
unless Worm isn’t really a man, but something they feed trespassers to
.
Stop it
, he told himself.
If they wanted us dead, they wouldn’t have hidden us from our pursuers. They’d have stabbed us in the dark or led us into
a dead end
.
After walking for some time, a voice spoke in the darkness ahead, and Wen grunted a reply. Soon a man stepped into the light
and the group stopped. He stared at Cery intently, then nodded.
“You are Ceryni,” he said. He extended a hand. “I am Worm.”
Cery held out his hand, unsure what the gesture meant. Worm grasped it for a moment, then let it go and beckoned. “Come with
me.”
Another journey followed. Cery noticed that the air was growing humid, and from time to time the sound of running water came
from a side passage or behind the walls. Then they
stepped out into a cavernous room filled with the rush of water, and it all made sense.
A forest of columns surrounded them, each splaying out to form a brick archway that joined with its neighbour. The whole network
formed a low ceiling that suggested draped fabric or a faren’s web. Below this was no floor, but the reflective surface of
water. Their guide was now walking along what appeared to be the top of a thick wall. The water flowed past on either side.
It was too dark to tell how deep it was.
Fortunately the path was dry and not at all slippery. Glancing back, Cery saw that the water flowed into tunnels which, by
the slant of their roof, descended even further under the city. On either side he saw other wall tops, too far away to reach
by leaping. The only illumination came from the lamps they carried.
The water itself was surprisingly free of floating matter. Only the occasional oily slick passed them, mostly smelling of
soap and fragrance. The walls bore patches of mould, however, and there was an unhealthy dampness to the air.
A cluster of lights appeared ahead and Cery soon began to make out some sort of large platform bridging two of the walls.
Several people were sitting on it, and a low murmur of voices echoed in the vast room. Beyond the platform Cery made out dark
circles within a lighter area, and eventually picked out enough detail to see that they were more tunnels, this time set higher
up and with water spilling out into the vast underground pool.
Their footsteps set the platform creaking as they followed Worm onto it. Looking at the people, Cery saw that none were older
than their mid-twenties. Two of the young women nursed babies, and a toddler was tethered by a rope to the closest column,
probably so that he did not scamper off the platform
into the water. All stared at Cery, Gol and Anyi with wide, curious eyes, but none spoke.
Worm glanced at Cery, then gestured at the water outlets.
“This lot come from the Guild Baths,” he said. “Further south there are sewer pipes and those up north are both sewers and
drains from the kitchens. But here the water is cleaner.”
Cery nodded. It wasn’t a bad place to settle, if you didn’t mind being underground and constantly surrounded by dampness.
Looking to either side he made out other platforms, populated by more Sligs, and narrow bridges linking them.
“I never knew this was here,” he admitted.
“Right under your nose.” Worm smiled, and Cery realised how right the man was. This part of Slig territory ran under Cery’s
own area. Cery turned to face him.
“Your people hid us from people who wanted to kill us,” he said. “Thanks. I would never have trespassed if I’d had another
choice.”
Worm tilted his head to one side. “Not the Guild tunnels?”
So he knows I have access to them
. Cery shook his head. “It would have shown them to my enemy. I’d have had to warn the Guild about that, and I don’t expect
to like what they’d do about it. I’m guessing you would not like them snooping around down here either.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “No.” He shrugged, then sighed. “If we’d let the one who sent the hunters after you find you, he
would find us too. Once he takes your things there is nothing stopping him from taking ours.”
Cery regarded Worm thoughtfully. The Sligs were far more aware of the goings-on in the world above than he’d have expected.
They were right about Skellin. Once he held Cery’s territory he’d want control of the Sligs too.
“Skellin or me. Not much of a choice,” Cery said.
Worm shook his head and scowled. “He won’t let us ’lone, like you do.” He nodded toward the tunnels. “He will want those because
he wants what they lead to.”
The Guild
. Cery shivered. Was this a smart guess by the Slig leader, or did he know of Skellin’s specific plans? He opened his mouth
to ask, but Worm turned to stare at Cery.
“I show you this so you know. But you can’t stay,” he said. “We will take you out in a safe place, but that is all.”
Cery nodded. “It’s more than I’d hoped for,” he replied, putting all his gratitude into his tone.
“If you must come back, speak my name and you will live, but we will take you out again.”
“I understand.”
Worm held Cery’s gaze for a little longer, then nodded. “Where do you want to go?”
Cery looked at Anyi and Gol. His daughter looked anxious, and Gol looked pale and exhausted. Where could they go? They had
few favours left to them, and no safe place within easy reach. No allies they could trust or risk endangering.
Except one
. Cery turned back to Worm.
“Take us back the way we came.”
The man spoke a word to the youths who had rescued Cery and his companions. Worm gestured to indicate Cery should follow them;
then, without voicing a farewell, he walked away. Taking that as a Slig custom, Cery turned also.
The journey out of Slig territory was slower, which Cery was grateful for. Now that fear and relief had both passed, he was
tired. A gloom settled over him. Gol was dragging his feet, too. At least Anyi had youthful stamina on her side. Cery began
to recognise the walls around them, then the Slig guides melted
away into the darkness. The lamp Cery was carrying spluttered and died as it ran out of oil. Gol did not protest as Cery took
his lamp and led them to the entrance to the Guild passages.
When they had slipped through and the door was closed again, Cery felt much of the tension and fear leave him. They were safe
at last. He turned to Anyi.
“So where is this room you and Lilia meet in?”
She took the lamp, leading him and Gol down the long, straight passage. After a side turn, they reached a complex of rooms
connected by twisting corridors. An unwelcome memory rose of being locked in the dark, imprisoned by Lord Fergun, and Cery
shivered. But these rooms were different: older and with a feel of deliberate confusion to the arrangement. Anyi took them
into a room cleaned of dust, with a few small wooden boxes for furniture and a pile of worn pillows for seating. At one end
was a bricked-up chimney. She set the lamp down, then lit a few candles in alcoves carved into the walls.
“This is it,” she said. “I’d have brought in more furniture but I couldn’t carry anything big and I didn’t want to draw attention.”
“No beds.” Gol settled down onto one of the boxes with a groan. Cery smiled at his old friend.
“Don’t worry. We’ll sort something out.”
But Gol’s grimace didn’t soften. Cery frowned as he noticed that Gol’s hands were pressed to his side under his shirt. Then
he saw the dark stain, glistening in the candle light.
“Gol …?”
The big man closed his eyes and swayed.
“Gol!” Anyi exclaimed, reaching his side at the same time as Cery. They caught Gol before he could fall off the box. Anyi
dragged pillows over.
“Lie down,” she ordered. “Let me look at that.”
Cery could not speak. Fear had frozen his mind and throat. The assassin must have stabbed Gol during the fight. Or perhaps
before he woke up, and Cery had only seen Gol stop the second stab.
Anyi bullied Gol off the box and onto the pillows, pulling his hand away and peeling back the shirt to reveal a small wound
in his belly, slowly seeping blood.
“All this time.” Cery shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It wasn’t that bad.” Gol shrugged, then winced. “Didn’t start hurting until we were talking to Worm.”
“I bet it does now,” Anyi said. “How deep do you think it went?”
“Not far. I don’t know.” Gol coughed in pain.
“This could be worse than it looks.” Anyi sat back on her heels and looked up at Cery. “I’ll get Lilia.”
“No …” Gol protested.
“It was only a few hours until dawn when we left Cadia’s house,” Cery told her. “Lilia might be at the University already.”
Anyi nodded. “She might. Only one way to find out.” She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.
“Go,” he told her.
She took his hand and pressed it over the wound. Gol groaned.
“Keep pressure on it and—”
“I know what to do,” Cery told her. “If she’s not there at least get something clean to use as a dressing.”
“I will,” she said, picking up the lamp.
Then she was gone, her footsteps fading as she hurried into the darkness.