During one of the breaks, Alexander could hear the overseers having a conversation that he found particularly interesting.
“I hear the king’s sister is pregnant again,” one overseer said.
“So soon after she lost the last one?” another said, shaking his head.
“I hear it’s the king’s,” yet another said in a guarded tone.
“Maybe that’s why she keeps losing them.”
“Hey!” the lead overseer said, approaching his men quickly and talking in a harsh whisper. “The Acuna hears all. Do you really want your idle speculations about His Majesty to get back to them?”
All of the other overseers fell silent, looking about furtively.
“Break’s over!” Doyle bellowed.
One day ran into the next, each more grueling than the last. Alexander considered escaping several times, but he was far too curious about the warded stone wall he and the other miners were digging toward. The Babachenko seemed to believe that whatever was behind the wall would tip the scales in the war raging across the Seven Isles. If that were indeed the case, then he had to stay the course.
After a week of digging, the crew came to a body buried in the dirt.
“Supervisor Doyle,” Hod called out. “I found a body.” He backed away from the corpse.
“Dig him out and load him into the cart,” Doyle said.
The hour that followed was gruesome. The bodies of six men, buried alive and crushed from the weight of the cave-in, were exhumed, one after the other. Once the grisly task was complete, the masons went to work again.
Hod sat down next to Alexander and Miles, shaking his head in dismay. “That could have been us in there.”
“No,” Miles said without elaborating.
“What do you mean?” Hod asked.
“We were pulled out of there for a reason,” Miles said.
“What are you saying?” Alexander asked.
“Deep-shaft miners are political slaves,” Miles said. “People who speak out against the king or make trouble for the powers that be get assigned to the most dangerous work. Really just a death sentence without saying as much.”
***
Alexander lay down that night thinking of Isabel. He was torn between his need to discover the secrets behind the ancient wall and his desire to see his wife. Her plan had either worked or it hadn’t. If not, she was probably being held by Phane. Either way, she would be expecting him to reach out to her … and she would be worrying that he hadn’t. He could go to her right now, but that would mean removing the slave collar, and once it was off, there was no practical way to get it back out of the aether and around his neck again, since it could only be opened with the master ring it was bound to-the one worn by Titus Grant. He had to be ready to make his move before he removed it and he didn’t have enough information yet.
Benny came back to work the next morning, his injuries healing but still causing him some pain. Of far more interest to Alexander were the ripples of fear in his colors every time the man looked at him. Something had changed.
During the first break that morning, while the masons did their work, Benny sat down next to Alexander.
“So, you never did say where you’re from.”
“No, I didn’t,” Alexander said, closing his eyes.
Benny hesitated, his colors swirling with fear and anxiety.
“Well, where are you from?”
Alexander sighed, opening his eyes. “I’m tired, Benny. If I tell you, will you let me rest?”
“Sure,” Benny said a little too eagerly.
“I was born in southern Ruatha. My sister and I fled the war and got attacked by pirates. Our ship sank off the coast of Andalia and we ended up here,” Alexander said, closing his eyes again but watching Benny’s colors intently.
“What did you do on Ruatha?”
“I thought you were going to let me rest.”
“Back to work,” Doyle said.
At the next break, Benny sat next to Alexander again.
“So you have a sister,” he said. “What’s she look like?”
“She’s too young for you, Benny.”
“Oh … I … well, I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I was just wondering. Trying to make conversation.”
“She has coppery red hair and freckles across her nose and cheeks,” Alexander said.
Benny frowned in confusion. “But I thought she had blond hair.” No sooner had he spoken than his colors flared with alarm. “I mean, don’t most women from Ruatha have blond hair?”
“No, not really,” Alexander said. “I suspect it’s just like anywhere else.” While he remained outwardly calm, his mind raced to understand exactly what was happening. Benny had never been this inquisitive before and both his colors and his knowledge of Abigail betrayed him. Alexander suspected that the Acuna had paid him a visit while he was recuperating from his injuries-but how had they come to suspect Alexander’s true identity?
It was entirely possible, given Andalia’s relationship with Phane, that the Reishi Prince had used his mirror to locate Alexander and then sent word to the Babachenko. But if that were so, why hadn’t they come for him? Surely, Phane would demand that he be captured at once.
Whatever the case, Benny’s knowledge of Abigail’s blond hair was alarming and it was good reason to make his move sooner rather than later.
That evening, the crew reached the warded wall. The moment it became visible, Doyle halted work, pulling the detail out of the mine and sending everyone back to their barracks. Six overseers took up guard positions around the tunnel entrance after the miners and masons filed out.
Chapter 10
“Alex Valentine!” Doyle bellowed over the din of breakfast.
“Here,” Alexander said, raising his hand.
“Finish up. Lord Grant wants to see you. The rest of you will be reassigned to other mines outside of the city.”
“Why?” Miles asked. Many of the other miners nodded, wondering the same thing.
“This mine has been closed by order of the Babachenko until additional safety measures can be put in place,” Doyle said. “Factor Laxman is making a big stink about the men who died down there the other day so we’re shut down.”
“Where will we go?” Benny asked.
“Lord Grant will have your assignments after breakfast,” Doyle said. “You’ll all know soon enough.”
Events were starting to move more quickly. Alexander had no doubt that he’d been singled out for reasons that had nothing to do with mining. He finished his gruel and reported to Doyle.
“Ah, there you are,” Doyle said. “Follow me.”
He led Alexander out into the yard in front of the slave barracks. A number of wagons equipped with cages were being prepared while Grant sat at a table off to the side, reviewing documents. He looked up with irritation when Alexander and Doyle approached.
“Here’s the man you asked for,” Doyle said.
“Oh … your sister says you know horses.”
“Yes sir, I do. We grew up on a ranch.”
“Good enough,” Grant said, turning in his chair. “Rollins!” he shouted across the yard. A man attending to the tack and harness of one of the horse teams dropped what he was doing and trotted over to the table.
“Yes, Lord Grant?”
“Here’s your new man. Put him to work. Once you’re done with the wagons, take him to the house and get him settled in.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Rollins said, not waiting to be dismissed. Grant went back to his papers without a second look. Alexander felt a keen sense of blindness at not being able to see Grant’s colors. He’d relied on his magical insight for so long that he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the man-except that his lack of colors was of great interest in and of itself.
“Come on, come on,” Rollins said over his shoulder as he hurried back toward the team he’d been hitching to a wagon. “You have to keep up, especially on a day like today.”