Kushiel's Chosen

his heels and Ti-Philippe behind me; Kazan and his Illyrians followed.
    After the bloodshed in the warehouse, the Yeshuites were less loathe to be left behind to secure our retreat. Those who had fought on the mainland at La Dolorosa had done so against armed prison guards; 'twas another matter altogether, this slaying out of hand of innocent attendants, ceremonial spears or no. We found a stack of grain sacks bound with twine and cut the cord, using it to tie Cervianus securely, hand and foot, gagging him with a wad of bed-linen.
    It pained me, but there was nothing else for it. I had promised him his life, and we could not risk leaving him free to give an alarm. The gag cut sharply into the corners of his mouth, and his sunken eyes continued to glare hatred at me. I spoke to him before we left.
    "For what it is worth," I said to him, "I spoke the truth to you, Cervianus. I am sorry for the deaths of your companions."
    His expression never changed. Kazan, passing, caught my arm. "Do not waste such pity on him, you," he advised in a grim tone. "If we had not taken them by surprise, eh, the catamites would have killed us, yes. You heard him speak of the tunnel, eh? They do not hesitate to kill for their goddess."
    It was true-and yet. I knew beyond doubt that if I lay coiled once more enduring the agonies of the thetalos, I would endure the blood-guilt of their deaths. So be it. I had made my choices, knowing full well I must live with the consequences. 'Twas only pain, after all; and who better equipped to bear it than I? Surely, I thought, though it never be given us to know, the tally of the living must outweigh the dead.
    If we did not fail.
    Down and down and down went the stairs, growing ever more slippery. Once my heel skidded and I put out a hand to catch myself, finding the walls green with slime, moisture seeping between the solid blocks of stone. We were beneath a city built on water. By the time we reached the floor of the tunnel, the air had grown increasingly dank. The flame of Joscelin's oil lamp guttered, and I felt my lungs working for sustenance. The passage is open at our end, I reminded myself; surely air must be moving in it. Joscelin held up his hand and waited patiently for the flame to steady, growing brighter. Massed behind us, the Illyrians muttered superstitiously, falling silent at Kazan's harsh order.
    We proceeded.
    I do not know how far it was, that stone-sealed journey beneath a city built on water. Not far, I suppose; a mere city block, as the architects would reckon it. Outside, I had seen the domes of the Temple and shuddered at their nearness. Below ground, it seemed a world away. The dense, sodden stone absorbed the sound of our footfalls until we seemed a line of shuffling wraiths. I felt a weariness born of dampness and chill and stone, the never-ending dark eye of the tunnel opening on and on before us. It came almost as a shock when Joscelin stopped in front of me and gazed upward, lifting the lamp.
    Another set of stairs, equally steep and narrow, leading upward to vanish in darkness.
    "This is it," Joscelin whispered. "Phèdre, the plan is yours. What do you will?"
    I gazed up the stairs, straining eyes and ears, but I could not penetrate the darkness and no sound filtered down to us in the tunnel. "Let me go first and see," I whispered back. "If the priestesses of Asherat are the only danger, I'm best equipped to avoid it."
    His face tightened. "And if they're not, you're the worst. I'm coming with you."
    "Will you stay three paces behind and wait on the stair for my signal?"
    Joscelin paused, then gave a curt nod.
    "Good." I turned to the others. "Wait here. We'll investigate, and send word."
    Ti-Philippe let out a sigh of resignation; he knew better than to try talking me out of anything. Kazan frowned. "I do not like it any better than he does, I," he said in a low voice, jerking his chin at Joscelin. "That you should walk first into danger, no. Better one of us."
    I smiled in the dim, lamplit tunnel. "You named me rightly when you named me a spy, my lord, long ago on Dobrek. This is what I am trained to do. I would no more allow you to go in my place than you would allow me to lead your men in battle."
    Someone at the rear-Volos, I thought-offered an Illyrian jest under his breath regarding the nature and extent of my training. I was glad of the dim light hiding my blush, and doubly glad that Joscelin spoke not a word of Illyrian.
    Kazan's mouth twitched in a reluctant