It felt like aeons since someone else had properly teleported her. Sperantia’s magic had a little whiff of Mallos to it – a familiarity that Croe should have expected, but didn’t. She had to shake it off as the world rearranged before her, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck, going through the motions of checking the pistol in the concealed holster on her back, replacing it, straightening her jacket. Her attire was inappropriate – the afternoon heat hit her like a slap as soon as they arrived, shimmering off the pavement like a mirage – but Croe could endure the discomfort. She was sure whatever Mallos was going through was worse.
Sperantia passed her a ticket; Croe bent to pick it up, asking no questions. Together they slipped into the crowd. We work well together, she realized with some surprise as they wended their way through the crush of people, two shadows mirroring each other’s movements without needing to communicate at all. Maybe that had been what drew Mallos to her in the first place: their similarities.
This relationship had no shortage of irony.
They entered the gardens, and Croe noticed the temperature drop markedly, probably due to the architecture and abundance of water gurgling through channels and plashing over fountains. It was still hot beneath the silk and leather, but it was certainly more tolerable. She took a deep breath, propped her elbow and leaned against the wall Sperantia hopped up on without looking at her. No reason to be obvious about having a conversation with a cat. Not that it was much of a conversation; at first Croe merely listened, keeping her face neutral with an effort. She knew Mallos was private about his past, but for the first time she felt herself beginning to resent him for it. Why couldn’t he have been more forthcoming about what had happened, with his familiar, of all people? If he’d just opened up once in a while, maybe they wouldn’t be grasping at straws.
“Dark and wet,” she summarized, a muscle clenching in her jaw. “Probably underground, but not necessarily. Will you be able to feel him, if we get you close enough?” She opened the map she’d grabbed on the way in, noting the water gardens, the military structures, likely locations for a passage leading down. “There’s a lot of ground to cover between here and the palaces. Any of these smaller buildings between the Medina and the Partal could have secret entrances. We should start there, look for any writing or symbols that seem out of place. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be a bit of the Ancient Language scribbled on a lintel.”
From her tone, it was clear she thought that unlikely.
|
 |