"I expect she might hear that.
And no.
It is powerful, and even if it will not do as she wants, it will still do great harm in the wrong hands." "All right," I said.
Samuel raised his head.
"Best we not talk anymore at all.
I'm starting to pick up the scent of people now." I could smell them, too, once he'd pointed it out.
We were coming upon more-traveled ways.
The loose dirt of the floor became packed earth, and the roots thinned and were replaced with rough-cut square blocks as the dirt floor became cobbles, and the ceiling rose so Samuel could stand up straight again.
There were already other tunnels joining ours.
I caught the scent before Samuel, but I think it was only because the woman came upon us from behind, and I was walking last.
It didn't matter, though, because I only had time to whirl around, and she was upon us.
She wore a torn jacket and filthy jeans and carried a large wooden cutting board in both her hands.
She walked right into me and bounced off.
When she tried to walk around me, I blocked her a second time.
"Take this to the kitchen," she said, without looking up at me.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, all of her attention on the board she held.
Her hair hung in ragged clumps, and there was dirt on her knuckles.
Around her neck was a thin silver collar.
"The kitchen, child.
The kitchen.
Take this to the kitchen." I moved out of her way, and she all but sprinted past us.
"She's not taking care of her thralls," said Ariana disapprovingly.
"Thrall?" asked Jesse.
"Slave," I answered.
"You know when someone isenthralled with a movie or a boyfriend--that's from the same root word." "Follow her," said Ariana.
"The kitchen should be at the heart of Elphame." We jogged after her, passing by a young man in a police uniform, a woman in a jogging suit, and an older woman carrying a steaming teapot, all wearing silver collars, and all moving with unnatural intentness.
The floor switched from cobbles to stone tiles, and the ceiling rose again until it was fifteen feet or more above our heads.
The gems that had lit the passage we had been in were lining the walls and dangling from the ceiling from something that could equally well have been fine silver wire or spiderwebs.
Whatever it was, it didn't look strong enough to hold them.
Samuel's head would hit the lower gemstones once in a while, sending them swinging.