The Girl and the Stars (Book of the Ice #1) - Mark Lawrence Page 0,68

another empty room or passage. As the dozens of chambers mounted through scores toward hundreds Yaz became increasingly aware that the place was a labyrinth and if she lost Arka she would never find her way back. Many of the chambers had three or more exits. Cave-ins blocked their advance at frequent turns, rubble piled to the ceiling. Everything looked much the same and Yaz had no idea how Arka could remember the way.

As if reading Yaz’s mind Arka drew their attention to the floor. “Don’t forget, these arrows will guide you out.” She scuffed away some dust with her foot.

Now that Yaz knew to look for them she could see the faint scratches.

“These ones are very old. They need redoing. The real danger though is deep down. If you reach an unexplored area and don’t make your marks, or you get chased into unknown corridors, then you might find that getting out again is . . . difficult.” Arka rubbed her scarred cheek. “I spent seventeen days lost in the deep city once. My food ran out after ten. I’d been a day and a half without water when I finally crawled up the long slope.”

Yaz nodded and made a special effort to stay close after that. The feeling of being followed had returned despite Arka’s assurance that Pome and the warriors with him would not dare to come against them in the city. The silence that had seemed so mystical in the cavern above felt oppressive in the dry emptiness of the undercity, swallowing every noise they made and giving nothing back just as the darkness took their light.

“It’s waiting,” Yaz murmered.

“What?” Thurin looked back at her.

“The whole city. It’s like it’s waiting for something. Holding its breath . . .”

The next chamber was domed, a change from the depressing regularity of right angles and flat surfaces. On the far wall three symbols glowed, each a yard tall. They reminded Yaz of the sigils that turned a star’s light to heat.

“We’ll see more of these as we go,” Arka said. “We don’t know their purpose.” She pointed to areas of textured colour spattering the stone around the symbols, patches of brownish yellow and pale blue-green. “That’s lichen. Another kind of plant, but not good to eat. It grows down here anywhere that there’s light.”

The drop-group moved over to inspect, and as Yaz drew closer the same forbidding that had opposed her at the gateposts flared, though with less force. She ground her teeth and stopped her advance, hoping that nobody would notice. The symbols though had grown brighter and Maya turned to stare at Yaz. “Are they shining because of you?”

Yaz forced a laugh and shook her head. She could see that where the wall was pitted the symbols persisted as if they were written through the thickness of the stone. “No.”

“Come closer then,” Quina said, running her fingers across the lines of the central symbol.

“I . . .” Yaz turned away and went to sit against the opposite wall. “I’ll just rest here.”

“They faded as you walked away,” Arka said, lifting her star toward Yaz. It too burned brighter as it approached her, underlining Arka’s point. “Can you read them?”

“Of course I can’t read them!” Yaz snapped. Then, forcing herself to calm: “I can’t read anything.” But she knew what the symbols said though. They told her to go. They told her she was not permitted here.

Arka stared without comment then led them from the chamber. The symbols flared as Yaz passed them and she felt that stab of pain, the compulsion to go back, but pushed on through.

They came to a great dusty space where the low ceiling rested on innumerable pillars. Here and there a shaft would vanish into the floor, large enough to swallow a boat and with no bottom to it. Other shafts led upwards, shrouded in darkness.

“What is that noise?” Yaz pressed her fingers to her ears but it made no difference; the sound was in her head, a discordant rhythm, faint but wild. “It’s like . . .” It was like the heartbeat of a star, only wrong. It seemed familiar somehow.

“Yaz?” Ahead of