Court of Fives (Court of Fives #1)

Court of Fives (Court of Fives #1) Page 94

“Do that again!” says Amaya.

“Do what?” he asks, surprised by her command.

“Honored Lord, walk from the cleft to the grate, more slowly this time.”

Ro-emnu lifts an eyebrow, not sure whether she is mocking him or showing respect by using the Efean honorific. Yet instead of throwing a nasty retort into her face he paces out the gap.

When he is halfway across she yelps. “Stop! The pattern of the bricks is broken there. You can see it when the light and shadow fall just right.”

The even pattern of the bricks is broken to make a faint outline in the shape of a door. I press a hand along the outline but nothing moves. A pattern at the center resembles the nested pyramid, a small one inverted inside a large one; this symbol marks the entrance to Traps on any Fives court. Resting my palm flat on the center brick, I lean into it. The wall gives way.

A door opens as by magic or by the secret workings of ancient wires and pulleys.

Startled exclamations ring out. I raise a hand to stop the others from crowding forward.

“There is a trick here. Let me go through first.”

Lantern in hand, I ease through the opening. No light penetrates the space beyond, except the glow of the lantern. When I lift it I cannot see ceiling or floor, for I stand on a ledge on the brink of a cliff. Water slops below like waves shushing among rocks. The air smells salty. Does the ocean reach under the City of the Dead? Or is this all an illusion?

Two bridges attach to the ledge. It is far too dark for me to see where they lead. They simply vanish as into nothingness. The stone bridge seems to be anchored with arches and pillars beneath; it looks sturdy but has no railing, so it would be easy to step off. The wider bridge is built of wood and has railings, but when I test its first plank the wood feels spongy. If this chamber has lain here for five generations, this bridge is surely rotting.

I call back. “Everyone come through at once in case there’s a trap to close you in there.”

They arrive in hasty procession: Maraya has the baby. Cook assists Amaya. Ro-emnu carries Mother like a sack of rice, while Coriander has slung the oracle over her shoulders. Kalliarkos brings up the rear with the other three lanterns and our gear. We crowd the ledge, clinging together in the aura of lantern-light. Who knows what might be lurking in the dark beyond?

“I’m going first,” I say, tightening the cloth that binds my dead brother against my chest. “You all follow when I give the order.”

“Yes, Captain,” says Ro-emnu in his sardonic voice.

With a rumbling scrape the open door suddenly slides shut.

“It looks like we have no choice but to go forward,” Maraya remarks.

“Follow me single file,” I say.

The bridge rises in a slow arch. We all tread cautiously on the span, step by step. I can no longer see the ledge where we started, just Kalliarkos’s lamp at the end of our group. My light shines only a few paces ahead of me. Horribly, the roadway starts to narrow. From being as wide as the width of my outstretched arms it shrinks until the bridge is no wider than the distance from the tip of my fingers to my elbow. It’s not so hard to walk, unless you look down into the stygian depths. Watery sighs breathe out of the abyss like a monster sleeping. There might be a sea-swallowing serpent waiting to rise and snap us up one by one as the rest plunge screaming off the bridge to their deaths.

I can’t allow fear to master me.

“How much farther?” Maraya asks, her breath coming in short bursts. She has crouched to brace herself on hands and knees. Behind her Cook and Amaya are crawling. Kalliarkos has given the lit lamp to Coriander so he can coax the oracle forward. Like me, Ro-emnu remains standing. How he balances with Mother on his back I cannot fathom but it’s impressive that he does.

I creep forward, holding out the lamp to see what comes next. The span narrows until it is no wider than my hand, a single course of bricks.

Maraya begins to wheeze. Amaya sobs once and is silent.

“How are we to cross without falling, Doma?” asks Cook in her phlegmatic voice.

Ro-emnu says, “I confess I do not think I could balance that even if I weren’t carrying the honored lady. We will have to turn back.”

“We can’t turn back. The door closed behind us, just as the shaft did. It’s as if we’re being driven in one direction. But who would build a bridge to get narrower? There’s something I’m missing.” I snap a finger. “Wait. Don’t anyone move.”

Kneeling, I feel my way forward, pushing the lantern ahead of me. My fingers brush along the edge but it feels wrong. Air should move up into my face from the depths but it doesn’t. Carefully I straddle the span so as to test its sides. A calf-length below, my legs hit stone. The span remains the same width as at the beginning. It’s just this little ridge bricked atop and cunningly painted to make it look like the bridge is narrowing.