“Right. We’re taking all of this rubbish up to Dagan. He’ll be the one to decide what your punishment will be!” she crowed, seizing everything that was on the floor and jamming it back into the metal chest. Tamin made a noise of horror as there was a ripping sound from the journal as some of the binding came apart, but that only made One-Eye shove the contents all the more roughly into the box.
I saw the overseer pause as her hands snatched up the Lady Artifex’s dagger, then cast an irritated look in our direction “What are you two looking at?” she snarled, and I lowered my head.
“Right. Pick up the chest, and follow me,” Maribet One-Eye ordered as she straightened up, and now I saw that her hands were empty.
Did she just steal the dagger!? I thought, almost about to say something – before I realized how useless it would be. Who would believe me, after all?
“You heard what I said! Get moving!” Maribet bawled once more, and Tamin and I grabbed the heavy metal rings at either end of the chest. “And don’t think for a minute that either of you are getting the reward for these,” she said, and grabbed the four blue Earth lights, stuffing them into her jerkin pocket before leading the way back out of the shrine, with us lugging the heavy chest behind her, and the guards following.
The entirety of Western Tunnel Two had been shut down by the rockfall, I saw as we clambered our way back out. There were also a whole lot more guards now than there had been before. And torches.
“We spent almost two hours excavating the collapse!” One-Eye hissed from in front. And when she said ‘we’ she meant the slaves, who were still passing rocks hand to hand up from the tunnel and heaving them over the edge of the Drop, as the Daza who had been here the longest were knicking into place new support beams.
“Your carelessness almost closed down this tunnel for good! Do you know what that would mean for the mines?”
Careless! I gritted my teeth. I had been the one who was being careful! Not shouting down the tunnels and barging about! And did I care what it would mean to the mines? I thought to myself. Not at all. My arms were aching when we reached the ledge, to find the slaves and guards filing down into the tunnel one at a time. They had to halt their work all over again to let us past.
“Up to the Main Avenue,” Maribet hissed, and even though there were many more hands and ore carts around us, she wouldn’t allow us to let go of our heavy burden.
It was a long walk.
But even though my shoulders were screaming by the time we climbed up the length of the Main Avenue to Dagan Mar’s platform at the very top of the mines, my thoughts kept turning to what we had found.
The Lady Artifex had looked fierce and proud, I thought. She didn’t look like the sort of person who would have stood for the sort of treatment that we received on a daily basis. Even though I could never have known or met the woman, seeing her practice sketches at the back of her journal gave me some sort of connection to her. I had seen the care with which she had tried to trace the lines of her dragon, Maliax, again and again, always trying to get it right.
It meant that she cared about her dragon, I thought. Just as I cared for Tamin and even Oleer and the Daza. It was her trust and friendship that had kept her going, pushing forward into all of those new places.
“You found them, I see!” Dagan Mar’s harsh tones broke into my fantasy, and the pain leaped into my arms, shoulders, and back with renewed vengeance as reality hit home. Here at Dagan Mar’s office, the inside of the Mine entrance was large and open. There were the deep gutters running down the floor where water would be pumped, as well as the runnels for the cart tracks on their ropes, powered by the treadmills outside. One side of the wide semi-circle was given over to crates and barrels and spare beams, while the other side had been built into a wooden platform with a high stool, where Dagan Mar could sit with the fresh air and the sunlight of the outside hitting his face as he watched us slaves come and go.
“Both alive, sir,” One-Eye called, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. “We haven’t lost their debt,” she said proudly, and I scowled. “And they found something down there. A cave, with this.” She gestured for us to haul the metal box up the stairs to the platform, as Dagan descending from his high stool.
Nice while it lasted. I thought of the wondrous pictures and glimpse into another life we had found inside that chest as I thumped the metal box on the wooden boards, stepping back next to Tamin as Dagan’s eyes gleamed with greed as he flipped it open, only for that eagerness to be replaced by a look of deep disappointment when all he found there was old paper and canvas.
The inscribed dagger was gone, I saw, and realized that One-Eye must have stolen it, just as I’d thought. I cast a glare down at her, but she remained focused on Dagan Mar, a tight little smile on her face.
“Worthless.” Dagan slammed the lid down again on the junk, not even bothering to fold the canvas painting back inside. “These mountains are full of old tat as one army or bunch of crazies moved through here.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why you bothered to show this to me; you should have heaved it over the Drop!” Dagan said irritably to One-Eye, and I saw her flinch at the rebuke.
“No, you can’t!” Tamin, beside me, took a step forward before I knew what he was going to do. You can’t interrupt Dagan Mar! I thought, reaching for his shoulder.
But it was already too late.
Dagan’s hand shot out in lightning-fast speed, backhanding my surrogate uncle around the back of the face with a loud slap, sending him to his knees.
“No!” I growled as I took a step forward, half-covering Tamin’s hunkered form with my own.
“Oh, you want some punishment too, do you?” Dagan turned on me.
For a moment I almost wanted Dagan to hit me. Or try to hit me, anyway. Four years was a long time to put up with the abuse, and meeting the black dragon and hearing about Lady Artifex had changed something in me.
But I won’t be any good to the rest of my people if I’m dead. The thought flashed through my mind as I lowered my eyes and my chin, appearing submissive before him. “No sir, it’s just that he’s new. He’s still getting used to – how this place works,” I said awkwardly.
How not to get yourself a beating, I was thinking.
Our head overseer snorted in disgust, and the boards creaked as he stepped back. “You’re both docked one days’ wages for wasting my time. Another day for disturbing the work of the mines, and for the insolence?” I dared to look up, just in time to see his cruel grin. “Ten lashes and three days solitary confinement, only water rations! That will teach either of you to speak back to me, or to slack off work with this nonsense!” He nudged the metal box with his foot.
The guards stepped forward and seized my shoulders and I looked in alarm at Tamin, also being seized. He was an older man – how would he survive ten lashes and no food for three days?
“Wait,” an unfamiliar, polished voice said behind us all, and even though it was a quiet voice, the guards froze instantly. Who could have this much effect?
The owner of the voice was a young man, maybe a year or two older than me, with strong blue eyes and messy reddish-brown hair. The chop and snarl of his hair contrasted strongly with what he was wearing, which was a finely tooled leather jerkin, inlaid with green dyes, over a cream shirt, open at the throat. A pair of heavy leather trews finished the ensemble, and at his side hung a sabre.