to suck. She drank greedily, and Christian was so relieved at the silence that he did not think to slow her down, only settled her in the crook of his arm and sat down among the rubble.
“What happened?” he asked the child. “What happened there?”
She did not answer, only watched him meditatively over the rim of the bottle. She was so small . . . Christian could not help thinking, again, of the children in the Devil’s Club, their eyes wide with fright as they clutched Maura’s skirts, as real to him as though they stood close by. And now it seemed to Christian that there was another figure here: a shadow hiding in the corner, or perhaps crouched in front of his horse, its dim silhouette flickering with the torchlight. Not Lazarus, this shadow, nor Christian, but an amalgam of the two: the Mace. He was not a good man, the Mace, but not a bad man, not by a long shot. He could not leave the other two behind, but—
But I need not bear them with me.
The baby had finished the bottle. Her eyes were drowsy, her face slackened.
“I know where we are, I think,” Christian told her softly. “But we can’t stay in these tunnels; you make too much noise, and Fortune makes us even easier to track. I’ll need warm clothing for the journey. We’ll have to get topside, but that’s not an easy business on the north Creche. It’s all ladders. How will we get you topside and get my horse out too?”
The girl was not interested in such matters. She closed her eyes, her mouth breaking wide in a tremendous yawn. Christian tucked her in one arm, grabbed his reins, and pulled himself back into the saddle. She was falling asleep right in front of him now, her eyes closing for longer and longer intervals. After a long moment’s thought, Christian lifted her and clasped her to him, rocking her slowly, as he had seen Niya and Carroll do. The baby laid her head on his shoulder, digging her face into the side of his neck, and then wormed a small hand beneath the edge of his armor to find the warmth of his chest. Christian settled her firmly in one arm and took the reins in his other hand, unable to define what he felt, only knowing that he must move forward.
We are in the great quiet now, he thought, and then he shook the reins, guiding Fortune back out into the tunnel.
* * *
Less than an hour later, he climbed a ladder. It was a slow process, for the baby was still tucked against his shoulder, sleeping soundly, and he could only use one arm. After some wrestling with the rungs, he reached the top and banged three times on the underside of a trapdoor. At the foot of the ladder, Fortune whickered.
“State your business!” a voice boomed from the other side.
“Open up, old man!” Christian growled softly. “Or I will break your other hip!”
There was a long silence. Then the bolt was drawn and the trapdoor rose, flooding the ladder with light. A silhouette loomed above him, but Christian did not flinch, for he recognized the set of those narrow shoulders, the tiny head with its wisps of flyaway hair.
“What have we here?” Arliss asked. “Have you become a father, boy? I could set every bookmaker in the kingdom on end with that one.”
“I need help.”
Arliss’s silhouette considered him for a long, silent moment.
“Please,” Christian added, and as he spoke the word, he felt something loosen inside him, some knot long tied.
“Another beating for the oddsmen,” Arliss remarked. “Quite a day we’re having.”
Putting aside his pen, he reached down through the door. “Give me that child and haul yourself up, lad. We’ll see what we can do.”
Christian handed him the girl. Arliss tucked her against his shoulder with a finesse that spoke of some experience, then extended a hand.
“Well, come on, boy. Or do you want to stay down there forever?”
Mace climbed into the light.
Chapter 37
A STORM IN THE NIGHT
What we know of Arlen Thorne suggests sociopathy, or at best, a virulent narcissism. But that is only the benefit of hindsight. No one in the Tearling really knew Arlen Thorne, not until a single moment revealed him in his entirety.
—Famous Traitors of the Tear: A Compendium, Evan Crawford
Aislinn should have known that something was wrong when the drawbridge didn’t open. They had been out there for more than an hour, their