Chapter 20: The Pantry

Chapter 20: The Pantry

With a twist of thought, Eli dropped both sparks into his outstretched palm. He felt two feather touches and he saw his fingers cupping the sparks and his own face, looking down.

He felt the warmth of his hand, too, and the faint scent of his skin. The sparks provided more than vision.

The sparks chased each other around his wrist then wove through his fingers. He enjoyed the new heft of them but ... he didn't know if that counted as feeling the weight of the mountain. Yet not even Mist-Beneath knew about the sparks; this couldn't be what she'd meant by 'carry the mountain with you.'

So while the sparks flashed apart then zoomed together--as ethereal as a dream then as solid as a teardrop--Eli wondered what lessons he was supposed to learn there.Follow current novels at novelhall.com)

He didn't have a clue.

All he had was more boredom.

So he decided to leave.

"I'm done here," he announced. "Okay?"

The mountain didn't respond.

"I'll take that as a yes."

He crawled from the chamber and stretched--surprised for no good reason that his troll blood kept him from feeling any stiffness after sitting in a cramped cave for so long. He crossed through the stalagmites and found three exit tunnels and didn't know which to choose.

Well, as long as he headed upward, he'd get home.

He picked an exit at random, then crouched through a winding tunnel to a well of crystals. The hole was lined with geodes as deeply as he could see through a spark hovering a few years below the surface.

He didn't remember passing that on the way in, but he'd been a little distracted at the time. As he continued on his way, he wondered about the crystals. He wondered about gemstones, too. Trolls didn't care about gems or gold or silver ... but Eli could use a sack full of rubies when he returned to Rockbridge. Or maybe amethysts? The only thing he knew about gems was that they were expensive. Well, and nobles liked them.

Selling gems to nobles to fund his revenge appealed to him.

He made a mental note to ask Mist-Beneath for jewels when he saw her. And for a change of clothes. His gambeson and breeches--his second pair of each--were too filthy for human company. And nobody 'meek' dressed like a soldier caught in a mudslide. He needed his hair cut, too. And a shave. If he hadn't blunted the fighting hatches on Armored-in-Frost's hide he'd use one for a razor.

At least cutting himself shaving wouldn't be a problem any more.

What else?

He didn't need much. As long as he looked non-alarming, he could easily slip into Rockbridge. Sell some jewels. Maybe call himself a miner, returned from the hills? Then he'd study the Marquis's movements. The Marquis never went anywhere without a guard, but that didn't matter if Eli got close enough.

Eli opened the curtain and stepped inside. It was a square room with shelves of lizard eggs and fruit and dozens of gutted carcasses hanging from hooks, some partially carved and others mostly intact, with ...

Eli stopped.

The sparks froze in the air.

No.

His blood froze in his veins.

No, no. He wasn't seeing what he thought he was seeing. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was seeing.

His mind scrambled to make sense of ... of the obvious. His breath stopped, his pulse slowed, his thoughts tied themselves in impossible knots.

He stood there, as if nailed in place, until the troll from the kitchen pushed through the curtain and said, "Not liking anything you see?"

"I--" Eli lifted a trembling hand to point at the carcasses. "The meat. The meat I've been eating..."

"Only the best for a young one," the troll told him happily. "Makes you strong."

"Ever ... ever since I came here ..."

"Of course! What're you after now, little brother? Fresh-grilled steak? It's no trouble."

Eli didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He felt something rising from his bowels into his stomach and then his chest. Acid bubbles corroded him, melted him from inside because--

Because the carcasses were trolls.

And a few humans.

Trolls and humans.

That's what he'd been eating. For weeks now. Every meal. That sweet, tender meat. All the bowls of stew. Trolls from the mountains and humans from the Marquis's militia.

Trolls and humans.

The bubbles burst in Eli's chest and he started to laugh. He pushed past the troll, laughing and laughing. He scrambled through the kitchen and into the passages. Crying with laughter, he crossed a boulder-bridge stream then lost himself in a maze of chambers.