“Not on accident,” Spider said with a grin. “Come on—we’re almost to the crossing.”
“On second thought,” Khelséa muttered, “next time you can take the minstrel.”
The crawlspace was as close as Spider promised, at least. A narrow crevice in the wall, barely wide enough for a man to squeeze in. It shivered in Isyllt’s head as she leaned close—not human magic, but the same sort of glamour that Spider wore in the city streets. Most eyes, she suspected, would slide over it unnoticing.
“Be careful,” Spider said. “The way is steep and long.” He twisted sideways and vanished in a pale blur.
Isyllt and Khelséa exchanged a glance. “Well,” the inspector said. “Go on.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Azarné added, with only the phantom of a smile.
Isyllt glared at both of them, then sent her witchlight into the fissure and followed it down.
“Steep” was an understatement. Her boots slipped and slid, and bits of rock skittered down into the darkness ahead of her. Her hands soon ached from bracing against the wall. The roar of the sewers faded, leaving the ringing in her ears and the harsh echo of her breath. Sweat ran down her back, slicked her scalp and squelched inside her gloves.
“This wasn’t quite the sort of misadventure I had in mind,” Khelséa muttered. A rivulet of dust and pebbles spilled from beneath her boots, rattling past Isyllt into the echoing darkness.
“Watch out,” Spider called from below. “The way branches here, and you have to turn.”
“Or what?” Isyllt asked, breathless.
“Or you go all the way down. It only gets steeper.”
“Of course it does.”
It happened in a rush: She yanked her right hand away from a particularly cruel bit of rock, just as one foot slipped in scree. Cursing, she grabbed at the wall, but her crippled hand was already cramping and her right had nothing to hold. Her stomach flipped as she skidded faster. Khelséa shouted her name.
By the wildly flickering light, she saw Spider reach for her. But undead strength was no use without a good grip. Her sleeve snagged and tore on his claws, an instant’s jolt that did nothing to slow her slide.
The witchlight only dizzied her; Isyllt let it die, wrapping her arms around her head. Spilling her brains down a tunnel was all she needed—
The ground beneath her vanished. She flailed through the air with an undignified yelp, getting her feet below her in time for an awkward landing. Her knees buckled and she fell sideways, bruising her shoulder and knocking the wind from her lungs. She rolled down wet stone toward the sound of water.
Not again, she had time to think. Then her head struck something cold and unyielding, and there was nothing at all.
* * *
She woke with a groan. Her head throbbed and red spots swam across the blackness. Someone was calling her name, echoes scattering queerly. For a moment she couldn’t tell who it was or why they wanted her so badly. Returning memory only made the pain worse. She couldn’t feel her legs, and had an instant’s terror of a broken spine. Then she realized that from the waist down she lay sprawled in frigid water.
“I’m here,” she finally shouted, only to hiss in pain at the echoes. “I’m all right.” That was likely a gross exaggeration, but at least her legs moved. And, she realized a moment later, she hadn’t fallen in a sewer. The air around her smelled of stone and clean water, the bitter metallic scent of the Dis, and a subtle floral sweetness. She hadn’t realized the river flowed underground….
Something brushed her leg, cold and slick and curious. She jerked leaden limbs out of the water’s reach; the movement brought tears to her eyes. Her stomach churned, and she fell limp again.
“I told you to be careful,” Spider chided, crouching beside her. Cold hands eased beneath her arms, pulling her out of the water. “Are you hurt?”
“Only my pride,” she said. “And my head.”
“How badly? The latter, I mean.” His fingers were soft and careful as he touched the back of her head, but she jerked away when he found the injury. “Oh, hold still.”
She did, with an effort, clenching her teeth as he examined the back of her skull. “Barely bleeding,” he said at last, “but swelling. I don’t remember much of mortal injuries—is your vision blurred?”
“That implies I could see in the dark to begin with.” Even sitting still on solid stone dizzied her, and her ears rang