The Thief Queen's Daughter (20 page)

“Well, lookee here, Percy. What does that look like ta you?”

The shadow of the thin man seemed to lean forward out of the dark, and the children could hear the sound of sniffing.

The thin man settled back on his feet and grinned broadly, his teeth catching the light of the glowing stone. When he spoke, his voice came out in a terrifying hiss.

“Fresh meat,” he whispered.

A
W, NOW, PERCY, THAT WASN’ NICE,” THE FIRST MAN SCOLDED.
“Downright unfriendly, in fact. No point in frightenin’ the little blighters. Yer great-grandmum was a runaway just like that once.”

The taller man squeezed past Percy in the tunnel.

“You little blokes musta really had it rough to get to this place through the well,” he said.

When Char’s shaking light hit him, Ven could see that he was a pale man with colorless hair, a little like Ida’s, and light blue eyes that gleamed in the dark. He was missing a good many teeth, as all the men seemed to be. “Well, sorry ta tell you this, kids, but no matter how hard yer life was up ta now, it’ll be harder from here on out.”

Char’s little flame burned out with a whisper.

Leaving them in darkness.

“Come with us,” the tall man’s voice said.

The friends spun around, looking for an escape. Behind them the tunnel opened back into the well shaft. All else was dark.

“What do we do?” Clemency choked.

A metallic clink came from over Ven’s shoulder. He turned around.

With his Nain eyes he could see Char standing there, trembling, the gauntlet outstretched.

The dagger extended.

“We’re not goin’ anywhere with you,” Char said. It was a brave statement, but his voice cracked as he said it.

The men at the other end of the tunnel broke into raucous laughter.

“Is that so?” said the one called Percy.

In his head Ven could hear the words Mr. Coates had spoken.

You don’t want to be carrying a weapon, visible or otherwise, in this place. Even the youngest infant who lives within these walls is better with any weapon than you would be. You should never look more ready for a fight than you are, young’uns. It’s the best way to get yourselves killed.

He thought back to the most dangerous situation he had ever been in before this. He was just beyond the harbor of Vaarn, inspecting a new ship his father had built, when Fire Pirates attacked. The only thing that was ever known for certain about Fire Pirates was that they never left any of their victims alive. He remembered what he had said to the first mate on that ship as they were gathering weapons to fight, even though they were outnumbered ten to one.

If we don’t fight, we’re all done for.

The first mate had looked at him sadly.

We’re all done for anyway, lad.

I don’t want to fight, but I don’t really think we have any choice,
he thought miserably now.
What other option do we have?
He pulled the jack-rule from his pocket and flipped open the knife.

“Leave us alone,” he said, trying to sound menacing. “We’re armed.”

“Sure ye are,” came the reply. “Come along, now.”

With the other hand, Ven reached into his pocket and pulled out the king’s stone. He raised it high above his head, trying to make the shadow of Char’s weapon and his own seem longer.

“Leave us alone!”
he shouted.

The men at the end of the tunnel shied away from the light, squinting. Then they blinked. Their mouths fell open and their faces went slack in surprise.

“The Lightstone,” Percy whispered. “They got the Lightstone.”

The friends looked at each other in shock. When they looked back, the men were gone.

“What—was that?” Clemency asked in amazement. “What just happened?”

Ven looked down at the glowing stone in his hand. It was radiating a cool blue light, as it had before, but at the center there was a hint of gold, much in the same way there had been when it was in the hand of King Vandemere. The internal cracks and squiggles were clearer now than they had been when the king had given it to him. In the middle, one long, straight vertical crack had a number of lines and squiggles branching off it. On one of those branches was the large starburst-shaped flaw Ven had seen the first day.

The golden glow was coming from there.

“I’ve no idea,” he murmured. “They called it the Lightstone—they must know what it is.” The burning curiosity that had been absent since Saeli’s disappearance began to take root again. “And maybe that means they know who sent it to the king—and why.”

“Or maybe
they
did,” Char noted.

The others looked at him in silence.

Ven stared deeper at the cracks in the translucent stone. A small vertical crack seemed to pulse when his hand was closer to the opening of the drain where they had come in. He stepped back to the edge and looked up the well shaft.

The vertical line glowed bright blue.

Ven’s eyes opened as wide as those of the men in the tunnel.

“Of course,” he said as excitement rushed through him, making him hot inside. “Of course—it’s a
map
! These are the tunnels I saw when I looked at the Lightstone with the jack-rule in Mr. Coates’s store.”

“If this one is the well hole,” Char said, running his finger along the pulsing blue line, “then what is
this
?” He pointed to the long crack connected to it by a tiny horizontal squiggle.

Ven passed the stone around for everyone to see. Everyone examined it but Ida.

“I don’t know, but the starburst-shaped flaw is in a small squiggle off that long line,” he said, taking the stone back. “I don’t really think we can go back up the well. Maybe we should just go deeper in and see what’s going on.”

The others exchanged a glance of apprehension.

“You sure about this?” Char asked nervously.

“What else can we do?” said Ven. “Even if we could get out of the well, Felonia’s thugs would be waiting for us. I don’t see that we have any choice.”

They turned back toward the inner part of the tunnel, and stopped.

There, where the three men had been, were at least thirty more.

At the front of the group was a withered old man. In the glow of the Lightstone, they could see he was clothed in a ragged robe with sleeves that ended just above his elbows, a necklace made of large metal squares that had stones set in the middle of most of them, and a battered crown on his head. His eyes were black, but they sparkled with interest, and his thin lips spread into a broad smile, showing white teeth separated by gaps of darkness.

“Welcome,” he said in a scratchy voice that sounded amused. “The name’s Macedon, Ruler of the Downworlders, but most just knows me as the Rat King. These splendid gentlemen behind me are my court.” The scruffy men behind him laughed ominously. “So to what do I owe the, er, pleasure of yer company, young’uns?”

The friends looked at one another.

“Uh, we took shelter in the well,” said Ven. “We’re sorry to disturb you—we didn’t realize you were here.”

“Ah.” The Rat King nodded. “So King Vandemere didn’t send you, then?”

“Oh! Well, yes, sort of,” Ven admitted. Reluctant as he was to reveal too many details, he felt it best not to pretend or lie to someone who knew more about what he was doing than he did himself. “He gave me the Lightstone, if that’s what you mean.”

“But he didn’ understand what it was, then.” The Rat King sighed. “Too bad. I had heard a few years back he was an inquisitive youth, out pokin’ around to learn as much as he could about the kingdom he now rules. Too bad he didn’t get more of a chance.”

Ven’s excitement was raging, setting his skin on fire. He stepped forward a little.

“You can tell me whatever you want him to know, and I will tell him,” he offered. “That’s my job, actually—or at least it was.” His face grew hot as he saw the men behind the king looking at each other skeptically. “Please, Your Majesty—what can you tell me about the Lightstone?”

The Rat King smirked.

“Firstly, it’s keepin’ you safe right now,” he said humorously, but with a dark undertone of seriousness. “There’s many things what crawls around in these tunnels asides us, and they don’t take kindly to being disturbed, especially by strangers. An’ they’re always hungry.”

“Hoo boy,” Char said quietly.

“Other’n that, it was an invitation, from one king to another. An’ it wasn’t sent to him—it was sent to his father.”

“Yes, he did say that,” Ven said.

The Rat King chuckled. “Well, since yer here, why don’t you come in? You’re our guests now, so’s it’s proper to find you something ta eat.” His dark eyes glittered. “And we’ll show you the Wonder.”

“The Wonder?” Clemency said aloud before she could help herself.

The Rat King nodded. “Yes, indeed, my girl. So if you wants to see it, come with us. Give me the Lightstone and I’ll show ya the way.” He put out his hand.

Ven stared at the king’s stone.
Do I have a choice here?
he thought. The Downworlders were the only people in the world who might have the key to what the king wanted to know. At last he decided there was no other choice but to obey. He handed it to the Rat King.

The scraggly man waved them forward, then turned around in the tunnel and walked off, the court already gone in the shadows ahead of where the light reached.

The friends exchanged a glance, then hurried to catch up with them.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why are you called the Downworlders, Your Majesty?” Ven asked as he walked.

“What if I
do
mind ya askin’?”

“Then I’ll be quiet.”

The king nodded. “Well, not much fun in
that,
” he said. “I mean, ya came all this way and all. Not much point in havin’ company if you’re not gonna share stories. Here’s the beginning of ours.” He stopped at the end of the tunnel where another opening yawned, stepped out of the way, held up the Lightstone, and gestured for them to look beyond it.

Ven stepped forward and leaned through the tunnel opening. He gasped in surprise.

“The Downworlders aren’t used to brightness below the ground,” the Rat King said. “We like the dark.” He put the Lightstone inside the ill-fitting crown, making his head glow eerily. Then he stepped onto the floating platform and took hold of a rope. “Are ye comin’?”

The children followed him gingerly onto the swinging platform.

“Grab hold,” said the Rat King, pointing to the other ropes around the edge of the platform. “Down here, everybody works. No free ride for
nobody,
not even me.” He began pulling on the rope, hand over hand, and the others followed his lead.

The floating platform began to descend into the huge dark tunnel.

“I s’pose by now ye’ve figured out why we’re called Downworlders,” Macedon said as they continued to haul on the ropes. “Our people live below the streets, below the grassy fields, in the deepest parts of the world—well, perhaps not as deep as yer folk, Nain, but out of the sight of the humanfolk of the island, upstanding and otherwise. None of us has ever seen the light o’ day, ’cept from inside a tunnel.”

“Why?” asked Clemency as she pulled.

The Rat King regarded her thoughtfully.

“Now, that’s a good question, miss. Wish it had good answer. Long ago, we were outcasts among outcasts—our forefathers were citizens of the Gated City, but not part of its ways. We were considered unworthy even by the standards of the scum o’ the earth, and that’s about as low as ya can get. So we live here, away from everyone, keepin’ to ourselves. We’ve been here so long that even the thieves have forgotten about us. Which is as it should be. And as we want it.”

“Seems like a pretty lonely way to live,” Char said, hoisting away.

“Naw,” said the Rat King. “There’s a lot more of us Downworlders than you can imagine—a lot more people lost from the sight of the world than anyone knows. We live beneath the cobblestones, under the walls, below the houses, even—and nobody realizes we’s here, ’cept the occasional runaway from the Market, which is what we thought you all was. Just because we keeps to ourselves don’t mean we don’t have fun. It’s a good life, fer what’s it’s worth. There’s worse ways to live, believe me. Our tunnels go all over the island, so we sees a lot of what goes on upworld. Wouldn’t want to trade places with anyone. You all can stop pullin’ now.”