Free The Burning Shadow by Michelle Paver Page B

yes? Is she your girl?”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œFine. Then you won’t mind if I—”
    â€œYes I will, you stay away from her.”
    â€œWhy? She’d be quite pretty cleaned up—”
    â€œZan!” Hylas gave him a shove.
    Zan laughed. “All right, all right. So if she’s not your girl, what’d she want?”
    â€œShe’s scared. They’re taking her to Kreon. I told her I couldn’t help.”
    â€œYou’re right about that,” said Zan.
    They went deeper, and the older boy became more subdued. Ahead of them, Spit began to whimper. Beetle swung his head from side to side, peering into the dark.
    Mice scurried along the floor and a bat flickered past Hylas. He hardly noticed. Pirra was here, on Thalakrea.
Pirra
. Shock, joy, anxiety, fear—all churning inside him. He hated thinking of her in Kreon’s stronghold. She was clever, but she hadn’t grown up living by her wits. She’d need help getting out of there.
    All of which should’ve made him angry. Now he had to think about her as well as himself. And yet—somehow, that didn’t matter. He was no longer alone.
    They reached one of the shafts that opened onto the deep levels. The greenstone was piled near it amid coils of rope, and the men who’d hauled it up from below were heading back to the upper levels. Hylas loaded his sack and tried to forget about Pirra. He had enough to worry about, staying alive down here.
    This was one of the better places in the mines, where the roof was strengthened with beams; and the men had a lamp, so he could keep an eye on Spit.
    Spit had grown even thinner and more like a skeleton than ever. Sometimes, Hylas almost felt sorry for him. Then he would remember the snatcher inside him, and what it might do.
    â€œWhat’s Kreon want with a wisewoman?” Bat asked Zan as they filled their sacks.
    â€œHe gets these terrible pains in his head,” said the older boy. “That’s what I heard.”
    â€œMaybe he’ll die,” Bat said hopefully.
    They sniggered. Hylas didn’t. If Kreon died, the wisewoman would be punished—and so would Pirra.
    â€œPains in his head,” repeated Zan. “Maybe some spirit’s sticking its knife in his ear, eh?”
    â€œIt’s ’cuz he killed that lion,” said Bat with feeling. “He shouldn’t of, it done nothing to him.”
    â€œYou and your animals,” teased Zan.
    Hylas stopped listening.
I’ll help you escape,
Pirra had said. She’d been so certain. That was only because she didn’t know what the mines were like, but it still helped. And she’d called him Hylas. It had been a shock hearing her say his name, but a good one. For the first time in a moon, he felt like himself: not Flea the slave, but Hylas of Lykonia, who was going to escape and find his sister.
    A bat brushed his ear, bringing him back to the present.
    â€œCome on, Flea,” called Zan. “Time to get moving.”
    As he started after them, mice scurried over his hands, and he shooed them away.
    Lots of mice: a river of tiny furry bodies and scratchy little feet. It struck him that they were all scurrying the same way.
    The bats too were all flying
up
the tunnel.
    He stopped. What had they sensed?
    Beneath his palms, he felt a tiny shudder in the rock.
    He went cold. “Zan!” he yelled. “Bat! Beetle! Get back here!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGet back here under the beams, quick!
It’s caving in!
”
    There was a roaring in his ears and the lamp snuffed out.
    Then the darkness slammed down.

12
    â€œZ an? Can you hear me?”
    â€œ
F-Flea?
Where are you?”
    â€œDown here by the shaft. You?”
    â€œUh . . . Tunnel’s blocked. I can’t see a thing.”
    â€œMe neither. Are the others with you?—Zan?”
    â€œUm—yes.”
    â€œThere’s space where I am. Can you make it