The voice on the other side

The new passage led them to a series of round rooms, connected by narrow openings. The voice ran from one wall to the other. A word spoken at the entrance could come back from three directions, sometimes after several breaths.

"The Three Echoes," says Zaelyra.

"Not the same galleries," Nym corrected. "The same builders."

He put a finger on the streaks of the wall. The lines converged towards a slot, then separated again. Nym whispered a number. The room sent him back, distorted by the corners.

To compare the returns, Zaelyra threw her name towards the opening. The word came back to him after two breaths, lower and as if it had come from elsewhere.

"If you get lost, you don't follow the voices," he says. "We follow the draft."

They advanced in pairs, connected by a rope. Pell was walking near Zaelyra. Sszindi leaned on Rhylor. The girl always kept her box against her.

Zaelyra let Nym choose the crossroads. He didn't look at the walls; he listened to the air temperature on his cheek and the vibrations of the rope. In each room, he asked Pell to count to five. The delay between the voice and its return gave an idea of the size of the next room.

"If I count too fast, does it change anything?" asked Pell.

"Only if you count badly."

"Then I'll count slowly."

"Good idea."

In the second room, Zaelyra's name came back from behind them, then from the ceiling. Rhylor stretched the rope and the whole group stopped.

"It's not my voice," she says.

"No," replied Nym. "It's yours, sent back by another room."

He made them wait for the air to stabilize. The current came from the passage on the right, but the voice came back even clearer. Pell wanted to follow the sound. Zaelyra asked him to close his eyes and describe what he felt.

"Dust on the face."

"In which direction?"

He slowly turned his head towards the central passage. "There."

The exit was actually in the center, hidden behind a pillar. Nym gave him a small copper ball.

"You deserved it. Do not throw it into a well."

Pell slipped it into his pocket with a ceremonial seriousness.

At the third intersection, a call rose from the left gallery.

"To the help!"

The voice seemed close. Zaelyra signaled the group to stop. Rhylor raised his fist to forbid him to move forward.

The call came back from the right, weaker.

"To the help!"

Pell pulled on the rope. "Someone is stuck."

"Or someone wants us to believe him," says Rhylor.

Zaelyra closed her eyes and listened. The cry had regular breathing, without the break of a person who lacked air. A staging, perhaps. Or an agreed signal.

Nym slipped a stone into the air slot. She was sucked into the middle gallery.

"The current goes through there."

"The voice came from the left," said Pell.

"The voice comes from everywhere here," replied Nym. "The stone only lies once."

They took the central passage. Beyond, they found a small collapsed room and, under the debris, a wounded drow, a young adult with a face covered in dust. His leg was caught under a slab. It was from there that the call came, distorted and scattered through the rooms. He wore the badge of a Minor House, torn with a knife.

Rhylor squats next to him. "Who did that to you?"

"Those who left me there."

"Why?"

"I was carrying a message. They took it."

Zaelyra examined the slab. It could be lifted by two people, but the ceiling above was split. Nym pointed to the supports of the room.

"If we move the stone, everything can come down."

"If we don't move it, it won't come out," says Sszindi.

Rhylor gauged the cracks. "We can wedge the ceiling and pull the slab. But we won't have time if the pursuers approach."

The stranger had a smile without joy. "They have already passed."

Zaelyra looked at the narrow passage behind them, then at the natural beams of the room. She distributes the roles: Rhylor and Nym would install the wedges; Pell would hold the rope; she and the girl would clear the stone splinters. Sszindi would monitor the cracks and give the fallback signal.

No one asked why she was deciding. This time, she had explained what she saw and what she risked.

The stone moved with a finger. The ceiling moans. They stopped, waited, then shot together. The slab slid enough to free the leg.

The young drow shouted. The room ringed.

Nym put his arm around his shoulders. "What's your name?"

"Orl."

"What was in the message? Zaelyra asked.

Orl hesitated. "A list of families looking for Veyr. I had read it before I was taken the fold."

"The House?"

"Not only. He laid his eyes on the turquoise reel tied to Zaelyra's bag. "There was also the name of Kethra."

Rhylor stiffens.

"Does she work for those who pursue us? Zaelyra asked.

"I don't know. The message said she had sold a road. Not to whom."

A new voice resounded in the rooms, this time without appeal or plea. A brief whistle, repeated twice.

Nym got up. "They found the room."

Zaelyra took the rope and tied it around Orl's waist. "Then we will no longer follow the path that Kethra has opened for us."

Rhylor observed the gallery from which the whistle came. "We'll have to find another one."

Orl shook his head. "There is none."

Zaelyra put her hand on the striated wall. The builders had planned air ducts, resonance chambers and maintenance passages. There was always another line. The question was who had paid to erase it.

"There is one," she says. "But it's not on any of our maps."

Orl tried to laugh, but the pain took his breath away. "You say that as if a map could make a passage appear."

"No. It can prevent us from confusing a passage with a promise."

Zaelyra knelt next to him. The leg was swollen, but the blood had stopped flowing. She unties the sleeve of her coat to improvise a splint. The young drow tensed up when she touched his knee.

"If you lie to me about the severity of the injury, we will see it soon," she says.

"I'm not lying. I don't know if I can walk."

"This is an answer that helps us."

She fixed the two metal sticks on both sides of her leg. Sszindi gave him a strip of fabric, then pointed to the inside pocket of his coat.

"There's something there."

Orl wanted to stop him, too late. Nym took out a copper capsule, flattened on one side. It bore the same three-stroke mark as the Bazar roll.

"Is it a messenger seal? Zaelyra asked.

"It was. Orl looked down. "The message has been separated from its envelope."

"By those who left you under the stone?"

"I don't know if they left me. Maybe they thought I was dead."

"You don't know much."

"I know what I was asked to do. I don't know if those who asked are telling the truth."

Zaelyra returned the capsule to him. He pressed her against his palm without opening it.

"Why don't you tell us who you had to give it to?" asked Rhylor.

"Because I don't know if you are the ones waiting for it."

"We are not," says Zaelyra.

Orl looked at her, surprised by this straightforward answer.

"So we have at least one thing in common," she added. "We don't know yet who can betray us."

Nym blew through his nose. "Formulated like this, it doesn't make anyone want to travel with us."

"I'm not trying to convince. I want everyone to know where they are going."

Orl put away the capsule. He had not agreed to trust them. But he stopped hiding his pocket.