Tunnels 02, Deeper

could smell them. She wondered for the millionth time what they really wanted from her. Perhaps they were simply going to throw her into a cell when they reached their destination, and then Banish or execute her. But why go through with this charade if that were the case? The urge to escape was building irrepressibly in her once more. Her mind screamed at her to flee, and she began to calculate how far she might get. She was looking at the door handle, her fingers fidgeting, when Rebecca stretched out a hand and placed it on hers, stilling their movement.
    "Not far now."
    Sarah tried to smile and then, in the flash of light from a passing lamppost, she noticed the old Styx was looking straight at her. His pupils weren't quite jet-black, as they were with the rest of the Styx, but appeared to have an additional tinge to them, the slightest glimmer of a color she couldn't classify -- between red and brown -- that, to her, was darker and deeper than black itself.
    And as his gaze rested momentarily on her, she felt an intense uneasiness, as if somehow he knew precisely what she was thinking. But then he was looking out the window again and didn't move his eyes from it for the rest of the journey, not even when he began to speak. It would be the only time he did so during the entire trip. His manner was that of someone wise with years; it was not the vengeful ranting Sarah was accustomed to hearing from senior members of the Styx. He seemed to weigh his words carefully, as if balancing them against each other before he let them past his thin lips.
    "We are not that different, Sarah."
    She jerked her head toward him. She was spellbound by the web of deep lines at the corners of his eyes that sometimes curled as if he were about to smile -- although he never did.
    "If we have a failing, it is that we do not recognize that a handful of people down here, the very few, are not that different from us, the Styx."
    He blinked slowly as they passed a particularly large lamppost that shone into the cab so brightly it lit up all its corners. Sarah saw then that neither of the other two in the carriage were looking at the old Styx or, indeed, at her, as he went on.
    "We set ourselves apart and, every so often, somebody like you comes along. You have a strength that singles you out; you resist us with the passion and fervor we expect from our own kind."
    "You are merely striving for recognition, fighting for something you believe in -- it matters not what -- and we do not listen." He paused to take a long, considered breath.
    "Why? Because we've had to dominate the people of the Colony for so many years -- for the common good -- and we tend to treat you all the same. But you are not all from the same mold. Although you are a Colonist, Sarah Jerome, you are passionate and committed, and not the same... not the same at all. Maybe you should be tolerated, for your spirit alone."
    Sarah continued to stare at him long after he'd stopped speaking, wondering if he'd been inviting a response from her. She had no idea what message he'd been giving. Was he trying to show compassion toward her? Was this some kind of Styx charm offensive?
    Or was he making some bizarre and unprecedented invitation for her to join the Styx? That couldn't be. That was unthinkable. That never happened. The Styx and the Colonists were races apart, the oppressors and the oppressed, as the old Styx had implied. And never the twain shall meet... and that was how it had always been and always would be, world without end.
    A further possibility surfaced. Were his words simply an admission of the Styx's failure, a belated apology for the way she had been treated over her dying baby?
    She was still pondering all this as the hansom drew to a halt before the Skull Gate.
    She'd passed through it only a dozen or so times in her life, accompanying her husband on some official matter or other in the Quarter, where she had been left to wait outside in the street or, if actually allowed into the meeting, had been expected to remain silent. This was the way in the Colony: Women were not considered to be equal to men and could never hold positions of any level of responsibility.
    She'd heard rumors that things were different with the Styx. And wasn't the living proof of it sitting across from her right now, in the shape of Rebecca? Sarah found it hard to believe that this mere child seemed to hold such sway. She'd also heard talk, mostly from Tam, that there was an inner circle, a