Labyrinth

Nyke instinctively moved to his left, assuming that passage they sought was the one farthest away from the ones with the glowing interiors. But as he moved to the entrance, Xanthos grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Not that one, little one.” He skipped a rock into the dark of the entrance to that passage, and Nyke’s stomach turned over as he heard the hollow sound of the rock tumbling down into a hole.

“As I said, stay close to me,” Xanthos said. “And watch along the base of the rock walls.”

Nyke looked down and then he saw them—painted symbols, small and noticeable only if you were watching closer. But they were there, and by following them through the many winding passages and across crystal-columned caverns, at last they came out into the rear room of a small, unoccupied house in the mountainside wall of Morini at the start of a busy and noisy market day.

Nyke was completely surprised as they led their horses through the bustling streets of the city state toward the consul’s villa. He had been led to believe that the three-year-long siege of the town by the forces of Brixia had reduced it to a starving cesspool, but, as much as the smell of the place—indeed of any healthy city state in the world—was that of a dung heap, the town looked prosperous and the inhabitants appeared to be perfectly pleased with their living conditions. And they seemed pleased with Xanthos too, which was the most shocking to Nyke. He was not seized upon as a deserting traitor but was hailed by the more prosperous-looking citizens, who no doubt knew him, and was given way to with bows and admiring looks by all others, who seemed to know of him.