Moving pieces of rock, tiles, and a shattered table, Shyla quietly uncovered the druk without alerting the deacons, who still worked diligently.

She crept back to the hole and shone the light down. It was too far to jump. She’d need to climb down. She tied the druk to her tunic and opened it wider. The light illuminated plenty of footholds. However, the entire column could collapse when she added her weight onto it.

No choice. She wasn’t going to stay here and be caught. At least if she was crushed by the pile, the priestess would never find her body. Somehow that wasn’t a comforting thought.

It wasn’t a long climb, but it was harrowing. Each creak of stone, puff of dust, and rumble caused her heart to race. When she reached the bottom, her shaky legs just about gave out as she stepped onto firm ground on the bottom level of Zirdai. She shone the druk around and blew out a breath in relief. She knew where she was.

Shyla hurried through the tunnel. Dirty water leaked from cracks in the ceiling, creating puddles in the middle. The sound of her boots on the floor echoed overly loud. She soon found the entrance to the corkscrew stairwell that went up to level seventy-eight. Not stopping to rest, she ascended.

As she looped around the main support shaft, Shyla puffed with the effort. At least the thin wedges of steps wouldn’t collapse under her weight. When she reached the gap where an entire level of stairs was missing, she paused to catch her breath. She longed for her pack. It contained a full water skin and a few rolls of jerky, but she left it in Rendor’s office in her haste to escape. And while she was wishing for unattainable things, she included a spider kit. It would make climbing the round shaft in her current physical condition easier.

Ignoring the multitude of aches and pains coursing through her body, she found a few toeholds and fingerholds and started up. Her arms and legs soon shook with fatigue and, when she was about halfway, her grip slipped and she slid back to the bottom. She rested her sweaty forehead on the cool column. It was a minor setback. The second time it happened, she cursed. After a moment, she tried again. This time she imagined what the Heliacal Priestess might be doing to her prisoners. It gave her the energy to reach the stairs.

She sat on the steps, gasping and shaking with fatigue. Her fingertips were bleeding and she’d broken all her fingernails. However, that pain just blended in with all the other hurts clamoring for her attention.