Regent Page 26

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  With sweat soaking his clothes, Sinjin followed Durin, who walked at a terribly slow pace. "Hurry up. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go do something else."

  "That's just the problem," Durin said without turning. "As soon as we finish this, they'll have something else needin' done. You watch."

  Sinjin didn't argue. Durin was right, yet Sinjin didn't mind as much. The work helped him feel as if he were contributing something. So often he felt helpless and useless, but at least he could achieve menial tasks. The hard work and sweat also helped him regain his strength and even grow stronger. He could feel the power in his newly toned muscles, and he liked it. The past moon had been the most difficult any of them could remember. In many ways, Sinjin and Durin were but spectators watching a most terrible drama play out.

  Sinjin curled the mostly full water buckets he carried, switching between right and left. He found he could alternate along with his stride and establish a rhythm; that was if Durin would keep moving.

  "No more draggin' your butts through these halls, now; especially not the champion runner," Miss Mariss said when they finally returned to the kitchens. "I needed that water long before now, and you've thrown off the entire kitchen. Now tell everyone you're sorry. Listen up, everyone! These two sluggards have something they want to say to you." With a steel eye, she turned to Durin. "Well, boy, what do you have to say for yourself?"

  "I'm sorry," Durin blurted, his eyes cast to the side. If he'd been looking her in the eye, he might have seen it coming; instead, he was caught completely by surprise when she smacked him on the back of the head.

  "And what about you?"

  Sinjin looked up. "I'm sorry we took so long. It won't happen again."

  "Your boilin' right it won't. Now empty the wastewater buckets and bring more clean water back with you."

  "Yes, ma'am," the boys said in unison, neither with a great deal of enthusiasm. Bringing fresh water was difficult, but taking out the wastewater could be most unpleasant. Miss Mariss saved this task for those who irked her the most, which meant Durin was first in line with Sinjin running a close second.

  "Why do I get lectured and smacked on the head and you just get lectured? I'm tellin' ya, you can get away with anything," Durin said in a nasally voice, trying not to breathe through his nose. Sinjin understood the wisdom of that decision since it was often better to never know how bad the water smelled; for some reason, the worse it smelled, the more likely it was to get spilled. Doing the laundry and scrubbing the passageway floors was worse than the carrying. Sinjin would prefer to just get the task done, but Durin slowed once again.

  "There's gotta be a better way," Durin said, glaring at one of the many basins throughout the hold, all of which were dry. The one he glared at now held some dried flowers. Everyone speculated that the hold had once had water flowing through it. Durin couldn't imagine how such a thing could have been achieved, and he often wondered if everyone else weren't wrong. Perhaps the basins had served a completely different purpose altogether. He'd often been tempted to pour the wastewater down one of the basins, but the idea of trying to get rid of the smell if it didn't work stood in his way. Of course, sometimes that was the only thing that stood in his way, especially when his shoulders and his chest ached.

  "I don't want to get yelled at again," Sinjin said. "Let's go."

  Durin set down the buckets and turned. "I need to rest."

  Sinjin was about to make a sarcastic remark, but he noticed how slowly Durin straightened after lowering the buckets to the stone.

  He turned to Sinjin with eyes filled with tears. "I'm not as strong as I used to be. Sometimes I need to catch my breath."

  Familiar guilt engulfed Sinjin. His friend was only weak because he'd been hit by a weapon intended for Sinjin. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. It wasn't all your fault."

  Sinjin started to protest, but Durin just laughed, which turned to a cough. After a couple more steadying breaths, he hoisted the buckets and started moving once again along the hall. Sinjin shuffled silently behind him, his mind consumed with problems for which he had no solutions.

  It seemed to take all afternoon to reach the God's Eye. There, small barges waited to carry waste products across the subterranean lake where they could be taken into the Chinawpa Valley and buried or otherwise disposed of. It was a tedious process that took more time and resources than anyone would care to admit.

  Simms and Bradley manned the poles of the nearest barge, and they grinned at the boys as they approached. "More wastewater, eh?" Simms said. "Don't ya ever git tired of carryin' wastewater? Ya always stink by the time ya git down here."

  Sinjin just stepped onto the greasy timbers of the barge. Though small, the barges could carry an amazing amount of weight, far more than Sinjin and Durin ever came with. Simms detested putting out so much effort for such small loads, but Sinjin and Durin had no choice in the matter; their instructions were quite clear, as were Simms's, but that didn't stop the older boy from complaining loudly.

  "Don't have nothin' t'say?"

  "Mind your tongue," Bradley said. "You don't want the Herald coming down here and lecturing us again, do you?"

  Sinjin flushed at the memory and wished, once again, that his mother would learn that sticking up for him was not in his best interest; it only made things worse. The rest of the trip passed in tense silence, and Sinjin watched the cavern walls slide by. Archways along the walls marked tunnels that had been blocked by the ancients. No one quite understood how it had been done. While some tunnels had been blocked with only loose stone and mortar, most of those leading away from the God's Eye were blocked by similar obstructions for a short distance before the tunnels dead-ended in solid granite. Once three tunnels had been excavated with the same results, all efforts to explore the remaining tunnels had been abandoned. Still, Sinjin tried to imagine what wonders could lie beyond and what magic the ancients used to conceal and secure them.

  "Hurry up," Simms said. "I'm not waitin' all day."

  Sinjin grunted when lifting his buckets, and Durin looked unsteady on his feet.

  "I'll help you with that," Bradley said, earning a glare from Simms.

  Late-afternoon light streamed in from outside, casting a ruddy glow over the pocked stone floor. Guards flanked the entranceway, ready to close multiple sets of gates should the hold come under attack again. Thus far, their fortifications had repelled the ferals and demons, but many feared the enemy had merely been testing their defenses in preparation for a major assault.

  "Hold," came the guard's command.

  "It's just us," Durin said, clearly annoyed.

  "State your business."

  "We brought you supper," Durin said.

  "Wastewater," Sinjin said, glaring at Durin. "Was that so hard?"

  "Every time it's the same thing. 'State your business.' We're carrying water buckets, for Kyrien's sake."

  Bradley laughed and shook his head as he led them through the ancient hall, which opened onto the more recently built timber fortifications, stairs, and lift mechanism. Men worked nearby, all guarded by soldiers with spears, and all seemed ready to retreat at the first sign of trouble. Sinjin couldn't blame them.

  "Wastewater to the right," the overseer barked.

  "Wastewater to the right," Durin mimicked, causing Bradley to chuckle.

  It felt good to be outside and breathing fresh air, and this brief moment was one of the reasons Sinjin didn't mind the task. The air near the freshly dug latrines was rarely pleasant, and the three dumped the buckets and retreated as quickly as they could.

  A low murmur suddenly flowed across the valley floor followed by a dark shadow. Sinjin, Durin, and Bradley ducked down and stayed still. The dragon did not return, and people continued their work, anxious and on constant alert. It was exhausting and those who worked outside could do so for only short periods of time. Too many were overcome with fatigue and became careless; that was all it took these days to get dead.<
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  Instinctively walking hunched over, as close to the ground as possible, the three did their best to get back to the cavern in silence. Sinjin looked over the beds of herald globes charging in the remaining sunlight, and he worried over their safety, but if they didn't charge in the sun, they wouldn't glow during the following nights. Sinjin had always found it amazing that one day of charging in the sun was enough to make a herald globe glow for nearly a fortnight. So many of the things his mother was said to have done seemed far away, as if they were but fairy tales, but these brought those stories closer to his heart. This was something only his mother could make, and they were among the world's greatest wonders.

  Torches and candles were still used by most with only the most affluent able to afford the luxury of herald globes, and only those with jobs that could not be done otherwise were allowed to make use of the hold's inventory. Many globes were used to light the common halls and work areas, but there were still many parts of the hold left permanently in the dark. Sinjin had not expected such darkness when he returned to the cavern, but the torches on Simms's barge were almost lost in the distance.

  "One of these days, I'm gonna leave that moron in the middle of this lake," Bradley said to Sinjin and Durin.

  Chapter 8

  The might of kings soars on leathery wings.

  --Fedicus Illiani, historian