"I will of course, Mother. And it would be wise to take Samoon. I mean, have him escort you.", he says, cracking a smile.
He knocks gently on the door to the room where Mari and Bertrude are speaking.
"Mari? I will walk home with you whenever you wish to leave. But no rush."
Wamblee would have said otherwise it were not so.
”Remember how I mentioned that the artifacts seemed to be arriving to and changing some of us?” Marianne asks slowly, still looking out the window after the sparrow. [b]”I see that text as if it were in sylph. It sounds like sylph to my ears when I read aloud from it, but the only time I’ve recited it audibly was in the middle of a battle, so I am uncertain whether there was a different language then as well.
Bertrude nods, slowly. She looks up, toward one of the skylights, her mouth slightly open as she gazes towards clouds and dark. Just as you begin to wonder if she has fallen asleep she says, "Ye've given me much to think about. I know the winds will be in my dreams tonight, making me toss and turn, so if ye don't find me too rude I'm going to lay me down to bed now. Come by tomorrow if ye have the time, hear?"
”Of course Bertrude,” Marianne says respectfully. Exiting she looks to Wamblee. ”Ok, I’m ready to go. Thank you for waiting.”
Mother clears his throat in the way she has, getting her children's attention almost instantly. "It seems to me that Finnegan Rentwyrth might not take kindly to Albreane's part in our investigations. I've offered her a place here for the night." She looks at Wamblee, Marianne, and Samen (if he is still around) as she says this, and pointedly not at Samoon. She nods, confirming there are no comments about this announcement, then bustles over to the kitchen.
She stays there a while, cleaning dishes and washing vegetables for tomorrow's breakfast. She offers conversation to anyone who drifts that way.
Wamblee replies when leaving:
"I do not mind Mar. Let us walk."
On the way back:
"So, has Bree said any more about Samoon?"
At home:
"I will assist, Mother."
When the others trickle in, Samen puts down the book and pretends to pay attention to the conversations around him, but he remains quiet, lost in thought about how to test the connection between the objects and the breathless valleys.
Samen, Mother pulls you aside at some point. "Putty, you know you can stay here if you really want to. I'm sure your father didn't anticipate so much trouble coming out of his funeral." She squeezes your fingers in a fierce grip that is just shy of painful. "My children always have a place to come home to."
Samoon quietly moves to Mother's side, helping her. "This is your plan? She's going to have to talk to her father soon. Tomorrow, actually. Well, I suppose if we weren't seen coming in, it will be all right. But she certainly won't look unbiased. Ah well, it's all foolhardiness anyhow," he says, almost to himself.
He glances at Samen. "What are you reading?" he says, somewhat eager to pull himself out of his own emotional hole into something more familiar--academia.
Samen smiles at his mother's kindness. "I appreciate the offer, but you couldn't be more wrong. Even if one us somehow figured out how to replicate dad's obscuring spell, the Dark-elen already know this place. Until they're all vanquished, for us, this isn't a home; it's a death trap. I suggest using it as a bargaining chip with Rentwyrth tomorrow."
He responds to Samoon with intellectual curiosity. "It's a historical record of unusual elemental phenomenon through the ages. Most of it is rumor and hearsay, but I was studying it to look for features that the events all have in common. I've been scanning it for anything relevant, and it seems the breathless valleys, in addition to killing everyone who gets to close, may exert a force similar to our inheritance. I'm not sure how to survive it at this point, but they are almost certainly a piece of the puzzle we've been given."
Marianne only stays awake long enough to have brief conversations and say goodnight to everyone before heading to her old took and going to bed. She had considered going home, but decided isolating herself would be a poor idea.
Mother wakes early, as she always does, and most of you are awakened, slowly but surely, by her bustling. The aroma of eggs, butter, bacon, bread, and orange juice fills the air.
Albreane is also awake very early, dressed in clothes rugged enough to explore mines with. Her brick-red hair is pulled back into a ponytail. When most of you are up, she says, "The mine doesn't care if it's day or night. I say we go now. I'll make my observations, and that will inform our direction for the rest of the day." She looks at all of you, even Samoon.
"Sound like a plan?"
"Well, the Breathless Valleys. Another place I'd like to go, if they didn't have a habit of killing everyone who went to them. As a sylph and an alchemist, though, I'm convinced that it's just a question of the right equipment--and weaponry--to see what's in them."
"We'll be noticed, tromping over there in a big giant group. Gah! We should have gone before dawn, or even straight to the mine. Well, lead on, Albreane. We'll be right behind you."
Samoon is careful to say her entire name. Despite this being his initiative in some ways, he feels it's faintly ridiculous and obvious of them to head to the mine.
"...We could make it look like we're paying respects," he suggested.
"Nah, I think it'd be a better idea to make it look like we're tampering with evidence. It's what we'll be accused of anyway."
"So cheerful, Samen," says Samoon, chuckling. "I suppose that will obviate the need to pay Albreane when we're thrown in irons and sent off to hard labor."
"You two are a picture of wit.", says Wamblee dryly.
"A stroll into the mine which killed Father before dawn. What could be better?"
Before you all leave, Mother says quietly, "How will I know if you get into trouble? Will you be safe?"
"How about we return for dinner at the usual time? Us eating you out of house and home should be sufficient.", Wamblee says with a thin smile to give away his deadpan tone.
"And if we don't return, have Uncle send a rescue crew," says Samoon airily. He hefts his heirloom, waves, and exits the home.
"Worst case, we get ambushed by Mr. Dark and die a horrible death. I remain unconvinced this isn't what happened to father anyway. See you later!"
Marianne chuckles at her brothers’ poor jokes as she leaves with them. ”I think it best to assume something has happened if we aren’t home in time for supper. We’ll be fine though.”
Mother gives you all one last tight hug, and then you are off. The door closes behind you, and the warm smells of breakfast soon fade, replaced by a cold whiff of the tannery to the west.
Albreane walks purposefully toward the iron mine where your father found his death. Heading east, you see other elens starting their day, but no one seems to take particular notice of you. The way quickly becomes steep, but you are all children of the hills and mountains, and take it in stride.
Soon enough the mouth of the tunnel gapes before you. Albreane finds surveying tools and other mining equipment in the nearby shed, and distributes some of it to each of you. "Well, in we go, Firenzes."
It is an old tunnel, showing wear in the wooden lagging, posts, and caps. However, some of the supports appear new, as if they had been replaced recently. No signs of other elens currently - Marianne recalls that it has been temporarily closed due to Hotah's death.
About fifty feet in from the entrance, you notice one of the newer supports has a large crack in it. The perfectly straight edge implies this was deliberate damage.
Wamblee volunteers to move near the front, so that he can quickly respond to danger.
About fifty feet in, he stops, and points to one of the newer supports.
"There,", he says, "a perfectly straight break. *Deliberate*."
Albreane curses under her breath. Pulling out a few tools and bolts, she goes to work repairing the damage. "We'll have to take this slow if someone is trying to get this place to collapse on elens who get too nosy."
"This sabotage is so obvious. Who placed that beam?" Samoon is shaking with fury. "Someone would have noticed this. Or this means that the people who investigated Father's death can't be trusted. And this--" he stabs a finger at the beam "means there's more answers further down the tunnel. Alb, I hope you can deduce what happened from missing beams."
Albreane speaks calmly after Samoon's outburst. "This is recent, just a few days ago. It probably would have collapsed on its own in a matter of hours or days, even if we didn't come tromping in here. Either the investigators had a part in it, or someone moved in really fast after they were done."
"Perhaps they did not have time to do a more subtle piece of sabotage. Keep your eyes open."
”Maybe we should... go tell someone about this,” Marianne says nervously, glancing around at the confining cave walls, willing her winds faster as a reminder of the open air. ”We already have clear proof of sabotage, that should be enough to exonerate Father of any fault.”
Albreane speaks up. "Mari, I get that you don't like confined spaces, but someone could easily make the argument that a drunk hunter came up and took a few swipes at a closed-up tunnel." She does not say that the 'someone' making that argument would be her own father. "Wouldn't be the first time something like that happened. Anyway, it's up to the rest of you how far we go, but I'm honestly telling you we don't have enough."
"Then we push in. Lead the way, Bree."
"Albreane. Is it safe that we all follow you? Or should we go in teams? I recall a bit of that from Dad's training. In case of further accidents."
Albreane nods. "Good point. Marianne and Samen, cover our rear, sixty feet back. Samoon and Wamblee, you're with me up front. Mari and Samoon, make good use of those archer-eyes and look for more sabotage as we go."
”Got it,” Marianne says, a hint of relief in her tone, and a hint of shame in her eyes as she falls back a ways with Samoon
After a short time, Samen and Samoon are forced to stoop - the tunnel was designed mostly for ifrits of average height. Progress is slow, as Albreane insists on checking every single major support and joint. A cold draft blows from the lurking depths of the mine, like the breath of the mountain itself. The smell of wet earth and old metal blows around you...and something else. A faint whiff of sickly-sweet rot.
You are all surprised to hear a voice echoing out of the darkness in front of you. It has an uninterested, almost sleepy quality to it. "Oy. This place is closed. Can't you read." He is close enough to see now, about sixty feet away.
It is a small town, so you all recognize him - Carl Birotta, eldest son of the Birotta family. It is especially strange to see him here, as the Birottas are hunters, not miners. His mouth hangs slightly agape, and there is a faraway look in his eye as he stares between you. "Can't you read."
Wamblee steps up to in front of Carl, suspicion growing in his mind.
"Carl, what are you doing here? Should you not be hunting?"
If that garners no response, Wamblee will snap his fingers in front of Carl's face.
Carl flinches back from your hand as it reaches out, and without a word he sprints down the passage, away from all of you.
"I think that is an informative answer to his legitimacy. I advice against swift pursuit, given the earlier sabotage."
”What are we thinking?” Marianne asks, still watching the darkness. ”Illusion? Conspiracy? Mind control?”
"Does it matter? He's going to warn his master of our presence. On the bright side, there must be another way out of here. They wouldn't have risked trapping themselves in here."
"Salient points as often, Samen. Let us press on."
It is a simple matter to follow Carl's tracks - these passages have been in disuse for weeks, and his footprints--and possibly others--only go in one direction. Down you go, passing tapped out veins of iron ore. The banded red-brown layers of shale seem to close in as you travel for half a candle into the cool darkness.
The smell of rot becomes stronger, and you come upon the corpses of several animals: a few birds, a small pogona, four ground squirrels, and an old wolf. They are all bound with rope, and bear long, ugly gashes across their abdomens. The blood from these wounds is dry, but not terribly old.
"Ahead, at best madness. But I suspect the Dark."
"The rotting smell is not from these animals." Samoon peers at the bindings.
"Why were they...were they left here as a sacrifice? They weren't eaten..."
"And Wamblee, your caution is well founded. Slow and steady and be ready to retreat. This alone is evidence that something foul is afoot and that ...the allegations against Father...are unfounded. Alb, do you recall how long this shaft goes?"
As Albreane starts to answer, you hear an echoing tink behind you, closer to Marianne and Samen, though it is impossible to say exactly how close. At first, it resembles a pick ax, a sound every miner's son knows. But then there is a distinct crack of metal on wood. Then a prolonged splintering-
It is not something heard as much as felt - a rumbling like the bellow of a giant - choking dust in the air - and then the terrible silence. This, too, is a sound every miner's son knows.
A cave-in.
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Wamblee looks behind, looks to the others.
"We all know what that was. But copper is not coal, as they say. We can still press inwards. Hopefully our foes are not insane enough to trap themselves in the mines."
Hopefully.
Albreane pulls her shoulders back, and straightens her back. "Right. I remember the drawing for this tunnel, and it doesn't go much farther. Let's be done with this."
Wamblee pulls out his double-chained kama, a haft held in each hand, and a resolute expression carved on his face.