Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [79]
“How about Jett?” Chant said. “That tattoo he has isn’t just for show, is it? He’s one of the cultists. He serves the Elder Elemental Eye.”
Leheren grimaced. “Yes, I think Jett is one. One day a few months ago his disposition seemed to shift from pleasant to surly, and he was wearing that new tattoo. I thought it was a silly affectation. Jett Var, Garel Komar, and others too. But even some without the mark are part of it. Though I scarcely want to believe it, I have reason to believe the deputy commander himself is implicated. Plus who knows how many journeyman-grade members.”
“The deputy commander?” said Carmenere. “That can’t be right. He’s the one who set you to ferret out the cult.”
Leheren said, “Without someone of his authority involved with the conspiracy, it couldn’t have stayed under wraps for so long. I would have known.”
The queen’s not going to be happy to hear about this, Chant thought.
Leheren continued, “I’ve been down here for I don’t know how long, sifting through broken tunnels, looking for where they might yet be hiding.”
“By yourself?” said Demascus.
“I didn’t know who else to trust. Once I discovered the Cabal was compromised, I realized anyone could be a damn turncoat.”
“When they found out you knew about them, they brought down the Motherhouse?” asked Riltana.
“No. I collapsed the Motherhouse. I figured I’d crush the infestation with a sudden bold move, and quash everyone involved. But I failed.” Leheren shoved her blade into its scabbard with an unsteady hand, then leaned against the wall.
“I’m afraid you did,” said Chant. “A beast with ties to the Elder Elemental Eye attacked us after the Motherhouse’s destruction.”
She nodded wearily.
“How long have you been down here?” said Carmenere.
“Seems like days. I think I … wandered into an unsafe area, and was caught in a collapse. I hit my head, so things are a little foggy.”
“We should get you to the surface,” said Carmenere. “You need tending. And rest.”
“The silverstar’s right,” agreed Demascus. “But first, tell us where you haven’t looked yet.”
Leheren straightened. “No. No, I’m not leaving here until I find them. It’s my responsibility.”
The lieutenant glared into the cavity sheltering the manticore and directed her lantern at the far wall.
Chant looked in too, searching for the symbol Arathane had described.
The walls were bare of decoration, save for the scoring of claws and spikes, and splatters of dried blood. The floor was a mess of gnawed bones and feces. He wrinkled his nose. Some of the bones looked gruesomely fresh. The manticore had probably chased away the wheelbarrow owners. Or … eaten them?
Leheren muttered, “I must be getting close.” Her gaze fixed on the passage to the right of the manticore den. She stumbled once, then made for an exit.
Demascus whispered, “Should we try to haul her back to the surface against her will?”
Chant shrugged and said in a voice equally quiet, “She’s almost dead on her feet. And I think a little crazy from exhaustion.”
“And I’m pretty sure she has a concussion,” said Carmenere. “She said she bumped her head.”
“Although,” said Chant, feeling a little guilty, “even injured, she’s got a better chance of leading us to the sublevel than we do of stumbling on it blind.”
Leheren wasn’t waiting on their conversation. She entered the passage and walked out of view.
They followed the lieutenant. The translucent ball of moonlight called by the silverstar came along like an obedient dog, providing just enough light to navigate.
Leheren was a good way down the passage already. They hurried to catch up, but she exited the far end of the corridor well ahead of them.
The chamber beyond the corridor wasn’t large or high. Several rusted chests were shoved against one wall. Three rude tunnels provided exits. Leheren was nowhere to be seen.
Demascus said, “Where’d she go?”
Chant cocked his head and put his hand to one ear. He heard a faint scuffing as of boots on stone. He pointed down the middle tunnel. “That way. I think.”
Demascus dashed into the passage. I don’t like this, Chant thought,