Starlighter (9 page)

“So no torch there, either. That’ll make the maze even more exciting.”

When they reached the top of the stairs, Jason lit the torch and held it close to Elyssa. Dirt smudged her face all the way from her small, rounded chin to her high cheeks to the matted hair covering her forehead. Her longer tresses had twisted into oily brown knots that draped one shoulder, making her look like a beggar in the streets. Her skin had paled from her normal tanned and rosy complexion. Yet her green eyes shone like verdant meadows, giving Jason a glimpse of the fertile mind within. Mother had always said that green-eyed girls were the brightest. The Creator painted their orbs with the color of life.

Elyssa crossed her arms and shifted nervously. “Why are you staring at me? Do I look as wretched as I feel?”

“No, that’s not it at all. Considering what you’ve been through, you look great. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just good to see you again.”

As she offered a timid smile, he looked at the clothes hanging loosely on her emaciated frame. Her long-sleeved tunic was torn, revealing skin along one shoulder and arm, but her thick riding pantaloons seemed intact. “Are you cold?” he asked.

She rubbed her upper arms. “A little, but it’s warmer up here.”

“This might help.” He pushed the torch into her hand. “You hold it while I find the right key.”

When they reached cell twenty, Tibalt pressed his face against the bars, again showing his gap-filled smile. “Ah!
You have come back to old Tibber, have you? You need me to dodge the rats, I’ll wager.”

Jason tried a key in the lock. “We can’t take the torch down the stairs because of a gas leak. Do you think you can find your way through the maze in the dark?”

“Not I, but the rats know the way. I will ask them to lead us. Oh, yes, the rats know the way.”

“We’ll have to test your rodent-guide theory.” After the first key failed, Jason pushed in the second. It turned easily. He lifted the crossbar and leaned it against the wall.

Tibalt shoved the door open and danced on the stone floor with his dirty bare feet. “Old Tibber is free!”

“Shhh!” Elyssa warned. “You’ll wake the others.”

“No matter,” Tibalt said with a laugh. “They’re inside, and Tibber’s out. They can weep while Tibber shouts.”

Jason grabbed Tibalt’s elbow. “You’ll be quiet, or I’ll throw you right back in there.”

“And face the rats in the dark? Tibber thinks not. They will eat you for breakfast, be sure of that.” He pointed at Jason’s nose. “You need the old geezer. Yes, you do.”

“Old geezer or not…” Jason pulled him along as he strode toward the back stairways. “If you want to help us,” he whispered sharply, “you’ll have to cooperate. We can’t have you dancing and singing while we’re trying to escape.”

Elyssa followed close behind. “I could make a gag, if that would help.”

“It might.” When Jason reached the stairway, he looked back at her. “Ready to douse the flame?”

“We’ll use it while we can. If I see extane sparks, I’ll extinguish it.”

As they descended the stairs, Tibalt sang out, “Ratty tails and ratty heads, and little ratty noses, watch your feet, or we’ll step on your ratty little toeses.”

When they reached the bottom, they met a bare wall, black and wet. A dark corridor led to the left and to the right. Jason inhaled deeply through his nose. Nothing except the perpetual mildew and the aroma of two dungeon dwellers. Of course, since extane was odorless, they wouldn’t detect it by sense of smell.

“Which way?” Jason asked.

“To the right,” Tibalt crooned. “Always to the right. Beware of the left.”

Still behind them, Elyssa spoke up. “If that’s true, then the maze should be easy.”

Tibalt lifted a gnarled finger. “There is one rule that is greater than ‘Beware of the left.’”

“What’s that?” Jason asked.

Tibalt pointed at a large gray ball of fur in the hall to the right. “Trust the rats.”

T
he rat scurried into the darkness. “Stay close!” Tibalt called out. The old man crouched low and shuffled away.

Jason gestured for Elyssa to join him, and they walked abreast. Still holding the torch, Elyssa waved it from side to side. Green sparks popped at the edges of the flame, growing louder and more numerous with every step.

“I can feel the extane on my hands,” she said.

Jason rubbed his thumb and finger together. “It’s kind of oily, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s oily, but I feel its signature. Every element has a fingerprint of sorts, and I can sense it on my skin.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Then you really
are
a Diviner.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, not at all.” He glanced at Tibalt, who stooped so low his nose nearly touched the stone floor. “Well, I mean,
I
don’t think it’s the result of a demon seed, but it’s not something you’d want everyone to know, especially the priests.”

“Trust me. I am well aware of the dangers.” She smacked the torch against the wall, killing the fire. “Okay, now it’s up to the rats.”

Ahead, Tibalt made a chittering sound, as if speaking in a ratty language. It sounded ridiculous, but the noise was easy to follow as he led them through various twists and turns, never pausing for a decision.

Jason opened his shirt again, exposing the finger embedded under his skin. Its glow was dim, painting the air around it a muted yellow, but it provided enough light to illuminate Elyssa’s wide eyes.

“You have a key!” she whispered.

He looked down at it. “A key? Tibalt called it a litmus finger, a pointer to truth, or something like that.”

“I’ve never heard it called a litmus finger. I just know that it’s part of the history of the Underground Gateway. Ever since I heard Adrian talking to you about the legends, I’ve been researching it. After I was hired as a laundry maid in the castle, I was able to snoop around and learn a lot. I noticed that every one of Prescott’s shirts had a patch of soft velvet sewn in where the material would touch the skin over his heart. I thought it must have been to prevent irritation, so I—”

“The key to the gateway is filled with pure light,” Tibalt said in singsong. “It guides you by day and glows in the night. A man who digests it from under his skin can unlock the gateway and venture within.”

“That’s the Blackstone prophecy,” Elyssa said. “Where did you hear it?”

“My pappy taught it to me.” Tibalt continued his chittering while blending in words. “Turn left, my ratty friend? Are you sure?”

“Anyway,” Elyssa continued, “one day I delivered Prescott’s clean laundry to his bedroom. No one was around, so I searched through his private desk and found all sorts of documentation about the Underground Gateway. I got so immersed, I lost track of time, and the head maid found me. She pretended not to care about my snooping, and I went home at the normal hour. But that night, some guards came to our commune and dragged me away.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been in the dungeon ever since.”

“And Prescott faked the bear claw marks,” Jason said.

“Drexel told me about that. He’s a double agent. Prescott thinks Drexel’s infiltrating the Underground Gateway for him, so Drexel couldn’t tell people about what happened to me. If that secret got out, Prescott would know who spilled the information.”

“Why would Prescott be so interested in the Gateway?” Jason asked. “He’s been persecuting its members—it doesn’t make sense.”

“On the contrary. It makes perfect sense. He’s obsessed with finding the gateway. Don’t you think having a finger sewn under your skin proves some kind of obsession?”

Jason looked into her sincere eyes. She was still speaking about Prescott in the present tense, as if he were still alive. Maybe it was time to tell her what happened. He touched the edge of the glowing skin. “It’s not sewn. It’s burned in there. But it wasn’t my choice. You see, it was in Prescott’s—”

“Explain later,” she said, waving a hand. “So I think Prescott is persecuting the fellowship because he doesn’t want anyone to find the gateway before he does.”

“But why? He can’t rescue the Lost Ones by himself. If there really are dragons on the—”

“Treasure!” Barely visible in the finger’s glow, Tibalt straightened for a moment. “The dragons collect the delights of their eyes, and silver and gold they pile up to the skies.” He crouched again and resumed his slow shuffle through the maze.

“Okay,” Jason said. “Prescott’s greedy. I can believe that.”

“The extane mining already proved his greed.” Elyssa rubbed her thumb and index finger together. “And this maze is thick with the stuff. With all the turns, there’s no ventilation, so the gas collects in pockets. We’ll have to detoxify when we get out of here.”

“I thought extane was harmless.”

“In small quantities,” Elyssa said, “but if you get too much, it can make your heart race so fast it could eventually fail. It’s a metabolic intensifier.”

“How do we detoxify?”

“We eat the bark of the manna tree. It’s a slow healer, but it should work.”

Jason licked his lips. A bitter taste coated his tongue. Although extane was odorless, it definitely carried an acrid taste.

“Aha!” Tibalt pointed at a faint light in the distance. “I told you! I told you the rats were our friends!”

“The rear exit?” Elyssa asked.

“I’ll find out.” Jason drew his sword and skulked toward the light. The air freshened, and the film on his tongue
faded. Soon, the source of light became clear, a gate with solid wood bars instead of iron. No guard stood on either side. Had he been called away by Drexel? Or was the security lax here? After all, who would try to break into a dungeon? And any prisoners who escaped from their cells would likely never make it through the maze.

Jason grabbed one of the bars and gave it a hefty shake. Solid. He found a lock and tried a key, but the lock was already disengaged.

He slid his sword back into its scabbard and stared at the gate. Why would they leave it unlocked? It didn’t make sense. He quickly tried each key until he found the right one. Taking note of the key’s notches, he left the gate unlocked and hustled back to Elyssa and Tibalt. “That’s the exit, but it was unlocked.”

Elyssa’s brow dipped low. “Unlocked? Is Drexel helping us again?”

“I was wondering that, too. And the guard’s not there. Drexel’s really smoothing the path for us.”

Tibalt crooned again in singsong. “A path too smooth is a path to avoid, neither trail nor tongue should you trust. To choose the easy when the path is greasy will turn your lives into dust.”

“He’s got a point,” Jason said. “Could Drexel the double agent be double-crossing us?”

Elyssa’s skeptical look deepened. “Why would he lead us this far only to ambush us now? And he knew you had the keys, so he wouldn’t have to unlock the gate.”

“Another good point. Whoever wants us to march out of here without a hitch must not be associated with Drexel, so we shouldn’t take the bait.”

“We could set a bait of our own,” Elyssa said. “Just to see what’s afoot.”

“I can hear your brain churning. What do you have in mind?”

She nodded toward Jason’s chest. “Does anyone else know you have a litmus finger? Based on my research, it’s a key that many greedy people would kill to obtain.”

“A few know by now.” Jason looked down at his glowing skin again. “So what makes it a key?”

“According to Prescott’s notes, it’s some sort of genetic material container. It slowly spills the material into someone who puts it under his skin. Over time, that person will become a human genetic key that will allow passage through the Underground Gateway.”

“The gateway is genetically locked?”

“Apparently. At least, that’s what Prescott’s notes say.”

Tibalt slapped his leg. “My pappy’s a smart one! Oh, yes, he is! He locked that gate, and ain’t no one can open it but Pappy himself.”

“That was a smart move,” Jason said. “But what I can’t figure out is why Prescott left papers like that in his desk where any snoop could find them.”

“Not just any snoop, Jason. The drawer was protected by a combination lock.” Elyssa flexed her fingers near his nose. “I had no trouble sensing the movement of the tumblers.”

“Okay. One mystery solved.” Jason looked at Tibalt. “You said the litmus finger was a guide to truth and direction. Can we use it now to decide what to do?”

“Not yet.” Tibalt rubbed his hands together. “Oooh, it’s all coming back to me now. First the finger must be
energized. It makes an attachment with you and learns the quality of your character. The more acts of wisdom and heroism you carry out, the more it trusts you. With each act, the color of the light will change, from yellow to orange to red and finally to bright blue, and with each change you will feel its guidance more easily.”

“So it was still yellow for Prescott, because—”

“Because he never did a heroic thing in his life,” Elyssa said. “He’s a selfish egomaniac.”

Jason nodded. That was probably true, but it still didn’t prove that the litmus finger really worked. “You mentioned setting some bait. What’s your plan?”

She took Jason by the arm. “Both of you come with me.” She led them back two turns in the maze, ducked into a dark, dead-end corridor, and pushed the torch into Jason’s hands. “The extane was densest back one more turn. Light this and throw it around the corner.”

“But it might explode before I can throw it.”

“That’s why you’re doing it and not me.” In the near complete darkness, the grin on Elyssa’s gaunt face made her look like a smiling specter. “It’s your code of chivalry, Jason. I know you wouldn’t want me to risk lighting it, so I’m skipping the steps where I tell you what I want to do, and then you stop me and insist on doing it yourself.”

“Is that a Diviner’s trait?”

She nodded. “It annoys my father to no end. I’m always cutting straight to the bottom line.”

“Okay. I’ll try to remember that.” He dug the flint stones from his pocket and strode back toward the dungeon. When he reached the next turn, he stopped and lit the torch. Hundreds of green sparks leaped from the
flame and arced to the floor, popping and spitting. With a heave, he launched the torch around the bend and sprinted back toward their hiding place.

A loud
foom
sounded behind him. As soon as he ducked into the alcove, a rush of flames burst past and then shot back, like a dragon’s tongue zipping out and in. A loud crash followed. Sand and pebbles fell from the ceiling and pelted their heads.

“Sounds like a collapse,” Jason said. “We could get a chain reaction and get buried here.”

Elyssa reached up and touched the low ceiling. “No. It’s stable.”

Loud footsteps echoed, then three men dashed past, too fast to recognize.

“Hurry!” Elyssa grabbed Jason and Tibalt, and all three rushed down the corridor and through the open exit.

Jason slammed the gate. A key ring dangled from the lock, a long, thick key still inserted in the hole. He turned the key, jerked it out, and peered between the bars for a moment. Too bad he couldn’t stay long enough to see who had been waiting in ambush. They might have photo guns, and the locked gate wouldn’t be enough protection.

After attaching the key ring to his belt alongside the other, he drew his sword and whispered, “Quiet. There might be more.”

Now in the forest on the hill’s gentle northern slope, Jason led the way down a narrow path illuminated by dappled moonlight. Pine needles silenced their steps, and wind whistled through the swaying trees, further masking their footfalls.

Jason halted and raised his hand. Someone was out there, waiting, watching. No. Two someones. Although they made no sound, Jason’s keen warrior’s sense raised prickles on his skin. The odor of a man’s perspiration drifted in from his left. A slight rise in temperature passed across his skin. A pocket of space in the woods deadened the breeze, an area too big to be filled by one man.

As he lowered his sword and pretended to slide it back into his scabbard, he turned his head but kept his eyes on the spot in the woods. Suddenly, two men leaped out. With swords swinging, one aimed high while the other swung at Jason’s legs.

Jason leaped, tucking his body into a ball as he flew between the attackers and slashed the legs of the man on his right. The attacker cried out, and a loud thud punctuated his fall. After a quick somersault, Jason leaped to his feet and flew at the other man. When their swords met in a loud clang, Jason looked at the attacker’s face—Bristol, the guard who had stabbed Prescott!

Bristol thrust a knee at Jason’s groin, but Jason leaped to the side and sliced into the attacker’s calf. He staggered for a moment, apparently not badly hurt, but then suddenly crashed to the ground.

Tibalt took off down the slope like a jackrabbit, while Elyssa stood with a hefty branch clenched in both fists, the top half dangling.

“Thank you,” Jason said, bowing.

Elyssa dropped the branch. “Trust me. It was my pleasure.”

As the two attackers writhed on the pine needles, Jason stepped toward the first one and pushed him with
his foot, shifting his face toward the moonlight. The dungeon guard?

“Why did you attack us?” Jason demanded.

After a pitiful groan, the guard spat out his words. “You know why, you murderer!”

Elyssa’s brow knitted. “Murderer?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.” Jason spun and pointed his sword at Bristol. “So you haven’t let your partner in on all the facts, have you?”

With a hand on the back of his head, Bristol scowled. “You will hang from the gallows! We will see to that!”

“Jason Masters!”

Jason turned. Three men stood behind the dungeon entrance, illuminated by a torch. One man shook the bars and yelled, “Don’t go with that witch! She will lead you into a trap!”

Jason took a step toward the gate. Viktor Orion? The newly seated Counselor? His usually neatly brushed white hair had flown astray and blew back and forth across his steely eyes and sloping nose. Anger blazed in his red cheeks.

A luxuriously dressed cathedral guard stood on either side. One drew a photo gun and pushed his hand, gun and all, between the bars. A ball of blue flames shot out and blazed by Jason’s ear. Like a comet, it streaked into the woods, letting out a shrill whistle until it struck a tree and burned a hole into the bark.