Uriel

Chapter 8 Part 2

"I hope you have a strong stomach," said Kameko as she and Nasrin escorted Sam outside into the early daylight. Apart from the guards stationed at the outer edges, the convent grounds were empty of people. A somber silence filled the air, too quiet.

Sam swallowed nervously. "Why? What does the Arbiter have planned?"

Nasrin's hand tightened on her shoulder, her grip on the border of pain. "Nothing," she said. "She wishes only to open your eyes to the truth."

Sam didn't believe that for a second.

The dungeon, as it turned out, was its own separate building, a fortress outwardly no different from the domed structures beside it. A single novitiate was posted outside the entry door, which Sam found strange. Shouldn't they have more guards? And then a terrible thought crossed her mind: Maybe the novitiate was the only one left.

Behind her mask, the guard's gaze narrowed into slits. "You," she hissed, starting toward Sam.

Nasrin released her grip on Sam to restrain the guard. "Enough," she said firmly. "Return to your rooms, novice. Kameko will take your place." More gently, she added. "Sleep if you can. It has been a long night."

The guard spared one more hateful glare for Sam before ducking her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Sister Nasrin." She pulled a heavy chain of keys from around her neck and handed them to Kameko before stomping off.

Kameko let them inside but did not follow them in, leaving Sam alone with Nasrin in a large square room, bare of furniture or ornamentation. In the middle was a hinged trapdoor leading to a narrow flight of stairs. Nasrin grabbed a torch from the wall to light the dark stairwell, turning around at the top of the stairs to look at her niece. Her eyes were glacial, any hint of familial warmth long gone. "Come," she ordered.

Down and down they went, deep into the bowels of the earth. Sam stuck close to Nasrin; it was too dark to do otherwise. The torch lit only the three feet in front of them and the three feet behind. Flashes of color flickered at the corners of her vision, but they moved too quickly for Sam to pay them any real attention. 

Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs. A portcullis spanned the entire passageway, raised partway. Through the vertical slats in the grate, Sam could see the massive iron crank to raise the door was unmanned. Again, she wondered, where were all the guards?

She must have spoken aloud, or else Nasrin read her thoughts. "Dead or in the sick bay," her aunt said grimly. "Today we mourn. By tomorrow, those who are gone or injured will be replaced."

Sam gulped. "What about your other prisoners? Aren't you worried they'll escape too?"

Nasrin laughed, but the sound was hollow. "This prison was built to hold the Traitor King himself. A few ordinary men are of no concern."

She frowned at her aunt. Twice now the Sun Sisters had mentioned the Traitor King. Vaguely, she recalled a story her mother told her when she was a little girl about a king who had betrayed his own people for a taste of glory. But it was just that: a story. Both Nasrin and the Arbiter spoke of the Traitor King as though his existence were fact. Likely the truth lay somewhere in the middle.

They slithered on their bellies under the portcullis, careful not to graze the pointed spikes at its base. Now they stood in a cavernous vault with a high, natural ceiling, more like an underground temple than a dungeon. The far wall sported a remarkably well-preserved mural of the Three. It was clearly old, though, painted with the flat color and odd proportions that marked the style of the Age of Shadows. Emese sat on a throne between the two brother Gods, one hand on her husband's shoulder and the other palm up on her lap, balancing a golden cup. Cathair, wearing a crescent-shaped crown, faced the same direction as his wife. Teivel's face was angled away, but his eye was painted unnaturally far to the left, so that it gazed upon Emese. He held a tall scepter that coiled like a snake.