Chena bit her lip. It’s Teal, she told herself. What would you say to Teal?
“Okay, if you want.” She rolled her eyes toward the rough red ceiling. “But then you won’t get to ride in the boat.”
“Boat?”
Chena tried to nod, but the collar choked her. “That’s the best part. I was going to go up the river in a boat. I was going to show you the forest and my house, but if you’re too scared, that’s okay. Put me back.” She sighed and waited, not looking at him.
Silence from Eden.
“Come on, come on,” urged Chena. “If you don’t want to ever see anything new again, just put me back. I’m getting cold out here.”
“Well…” Chena looked down again and saw Eden squirm. “Okay.”
Chena started breathing again. “Okay. If you can get one of my hands loose, I can help you and we’ll just vanish. They’ll be looking for us for hours.”
Now that Eden had made his decision, he moved quickly. He scuttled around to her right side. She felt him tugging ineffectually at the strap, but after a moment’s fussing, the binding came loose and she was able to lift her hand to fumble at the collar around her throat. Eden giggled and took her hand. His fingers were small, slender, and warm. He placed her hand on the buckle.
Trying not to think of anything but getting out of here, Chena worked the buckle and tore the collar from her neck. In another minute, she was free and on her feet, towering over Eden.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing the hem of her tunic. “If we don’t get out, they’ll see us.”
“Okay.” Reflexively, Chena pulled his hand from her hem and held on to it. Held on to his hand, this Teal impostor, this thing that killed Mom.
Her brother. Was this really her brother? No. That was not possible. There was nothing of Mom in him. He was purely the hothousers’ thing.
Then why did he look so much like Teal?
“Take us out to the lake,” she said. “I’ll get us to the river from there.”
Grinning at the prospect of a new game, Eden scrambled up on top of the pile of crates. “Through here,” he said, and vanished.
Chena, stiff from captivity and clumsy from whatever they had drugged her with, managed to clamber up after him. Time and water had carved a ragged oval hole through the stone. The lamplight penetrated it just far enough that she could see Eden’s heels disappearing into the darkness.
Chena stayed where she was for a moment, her heart hammering. Would the tunnel be big enough for her? What if she got stuck?
“Come on!” Eden’s voice floated up the tunnel.
No choice. Chena hoisted herself into the tunnel and started crawling forward. Rough stone bit into her elbows and knees. Her scalp scraped hard against the tunnel’s roof. She bit her tongue and ducked down onto her forearms. She crept along slowly until her forehead brushed against another outcropping. Cursing under her breath, she dropped onto her belly and began to pull herself forward with her elbows. The stone scratched long, painful lines down her torso. More stone scraped against her shoulders.
“Come on!” rasped Eden from somewhere ahead. “They’re going to be looking for us.”
“I can’t,” Chena gasped, wincing as she felt her tunic and the skin underneath it tear open. “It’s too small!”
“It opens up. Just a little farther.” She heard scuffling. Eden’s small hand groped at her face, found the collar of her tunic, and pulled. “Come on!”
Gritting her teeth against the pain and all the fear, Chena dragged herself forward another few inches. The stone pulled back from her shoulders and after wriggling another foot, she was able to push herself back onto her knees. Then, she saw Eden grinning at her, and she realized she could see him. Light leaked around the boy from somewhere up ahead.
“Is that the outside?” she breathed.
Eden shook his head. “We’ve got to go through the needle room, and then there’s another tunnel. Then there’s the outside.”
Eden reversed direction so that his buttocks were practically pressed against her nose, and scurried forward. Torn between laughter and frustration, Chena crawled after him.
The tunnel ended high in the wall of another cave. Eden crept out onto what looked like a wooden shelf. Chena squeezed herself through the tunnel’s mouth and saw it was the top of a cabinet. Scooting forward on his rear end, Eden stretched out his entire length until the tips of his toes just touched the counter beside the cabinet. From the counter, he jumped easily down to the floor.
The cabinet wobbled under Chena’s weight, but stayed upright. Thanks to her height, she had an easier time than Eden lowering herself down to the counter and then the floor. As she straightened up, she realized she recognized the cabinets and the shape of the cavern. A small spasm of fear shook her. This was the room where the tailors had tested her to see if she’d been damaged by the fences. The drastic tools of surgery filled the place. Knives lay in sterilizer trays, ready for cutting. Beside them stood lasers on long, flexible stems. In the cabinets, saws and pliers waited to dismantle bones and joints, along with shelf after shelf of needles—needles for stitching, for injecting, for probing. Here was the other reason her captors were called tailors.