Over the years, some have voiced their surprise upon learning I had never met Rakash until recently. This can be even more intriguing to those who know of my relationships with people close to him.

How could I have been with Julia, after all, and yet never come into contact with her mentor?

I must admit it is strange even to me when I think about it. Despite our extended lives, our paths had never crossed. There were many reasons for this—not all of them attributable to me.

I’ve mentioned my affinity for humans. This led me to live among them for many centuries—unless that was the source of the affinity. Either way, I did not move into this city until I met Julia.

After that... Well, Rakash was not always the social creature he is today. There was a time when he shunned most everyone, especially those he disliked. And I suspect he had a fairly strong dislike for me in those days... perhaps because of my relationship with Julia. I doubt he approved of it.

And then, when she died...

Most times, a death will bring closer all who loved the departed... but this was not such a case.

If anything, the gap between us grew wider, deeper.

I suspect he held me responsible for her death.

How could he not?

I certainly felt enough guilt.

And yet...

And yet, despite all those years of aloofness, it now felt like we spent all of our time together.

That is, of course, an exaggeration... though not by far.

It’s not like we even had anything to talk about. Nothing personal. Except her. But that was not something either of us would have felt comfortable talking about with the other. So we did not.

Instead, it was always all business.

”How are our humans behaving today?” he would ask.

”Puzzled and inquisitive,” would be my typical reply.

Each time, a servant would interrupt to bring him a drink. Each time, he would scold him and send him away.

”These creatures never know their place. I do not know how you put up with them,” he once stated.

”They are attempting to serve you,” I pointed out. “Is that not their purpose?”

”It is. But that does not mean they should not be more mindful of when to serve.”

”Should they, then, listen to our conversation, so as to better gauge the most appropriate moment to approach?”

He stopped rolling the pendant between his fingers and stared at me with an unreadable expression.

”Would it matter to you if they did?” he asked, with what sounded like curiosity.

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”Should it?”

He smiled. “You are becoming wiser by the minute, it would seem.” He clapped his hands and one of the human servants came running. “In truth, it would not matter at all. Who would they tell? This one I have had by my side for twenty years. He alone is allowed in my presence when I discuss matters of the greatest secrecy. Have you ever heard him talk?”

I could not say that I had, so I merely shook my head.

”Of course you haven’t. Open your mouth.”

He tapped the human’s cheek with the back of a wooden stick.

The servant parted his lips, and I was horrified to see the man’s tongue had been removed.

”Why would you do such a thing?” I cried out without thinking.

Rakash shrugged as he distractedly waved the servant away. “One could argue they would have no one to tell... It’s not like they will ever go back to their people. But other ears abound. One can never be too prudent. Besides,” he added with a smile, “he wanted me to cut out his tongue.”

”He what?”

”Don’t look so shocked,” he laughed. “You know as well as I do that all the humans who come here do so of their own free will.”

While that was mostly true, it was not entirely so... and he knew it as much as I did. But even if one disregarded this, did it give us the right to treat the humans like animals?

”Coming here is one thing, wanting his own tongue removed is quite another...”

”He begged for me to remove temptation. So I did.”

It was infuriating how he made such an unspeakable act sound like he had done his victim a favor.

***

They had been going for hours, heading straight toward the mountains—which loomed above them.

“Shouldn’t we fly higher?” Michael asked after a long silence.

“This glider can’t go above twelve feet,” said Christopher. “So we’ll go under.”

Surely, he must be joking...

“Under?”

Christopher tapped the vehicle’s TriVid screen, which zoomed on the road ahead of them. It showed a large, dark, deep opening at the base of the mountain.

“Tunnel goes all the way through to the other side...”

“What’s on the other side?” asked Michael, staring apprehensively at the dark pit on the screen.

“Our destination.”

Not only did his captor keep Michael spellbound, but he systematically refused to say anything about who had hired him. It was frustrating.

He had asked him once why he wouldn’t tell him anything. Christopher’s answer had been: “Those are not my secrets to tell.”

It took them another hour to reach the tunnel. The darkness engulfed them instantly, though the glider seemed to know the way well enough as it just went on, unperturbed.

“Have you come through here often?” asked Michael.

“I wouldn’t say often, but a few times.”

“Why are there no lights?”

“Waste of energy, since the gliders can do without them just fine.”

“What if our glider breaks down?”

Christopher snickered. “Then we’d be screwed.”

That did not make him feel any better. Not one bit.

His captor left the front seat and came to sit next to him. He activated a side panel that revealed a bottle and some glasses.

“You gotta learn to relax, Michael. Everything’s under control. Not yours, granted, but still... Since there’s nothing you can do about it, you might as well relax, right?” He poured drinks into the two glasses and handed one to his prisoner—or guest, as he liked to call him. “Here. This might help.”

Michael doubted it. But he took the glass nonetheless. He sniffed it.

“What is this?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not drugged. Look.” He drank half of his own glass. “See? Perfectly fine gin.”

The archaeologist tasted the drink, then took a longer sip.

Christopher watched through the window quietly for a while.

“They say there are monsters here,” he mused, “that dwell in the darkest depths of these mountains. Sometimes, if you listen carefully, you can hear them moan and screech and curse.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better or to scare me?” asked Michael.

Christopher grinned. “Just passing the time.”

“How could they see anything in this darkness?”

“Ah, but the darkness does not bother or hinder them. This is their natural habitat, after all. They thrive in the darkness. They can see through it just as clearly as we can see through the light.”

“Wouldn’t they attack us if they were real?”

“The glider’s lights keep them at bay. It frightens them and blinds them if they get too close.”

He had never heard of these stories, but then this was a part of the world he was not familiar with. He had always studied in Joqqal and its immediate surroundings. There were enough sites there to keep him busy for years.

The glider wavered as its engine emitted a strange sound.

The two men looked at each other.

But the shaking stopped, and the vehicle continued to dart through the darkness.

Michael hoped their lights would hold until the end of the tunnel.