smoke is thick this morning. With the shortage of coal the ruling committee has had to turn the fans back at night. I think it is a stupid ruling as the fans will only have to work harder when they are turned up to disperse the gathered smoke. But as no one has asked my opinion on such things I keep the thought to myself. Still, it won’t be long until it is light and the smoke and fog will clear and I will be vulnerable. As will Pace.
I refuse to think that he has been captured. It is certainly a possibility. A full day has gone by since I saw him and so much has happened in my life. I don’t want to think about what I will do if he does not appear. It has come down to this. My very life depends on what he knows. On what I hope he will tell me.
I find a spot in the alley behind the library. I fade into the shadows of a doorway that leads into a basement and keep an eye on the network of stairs that lead to the roof of the building. I do not have long to wait, as a figure appears out of the smoke and stares upward.
Is it Pace? I cannot tell. His head is covered with a hood. He is not wearing his uniform. He’s dressed more like a scarab and the thought that it could be a filcher sends me back into the shadows with a gasp. He turns toward the sound and once more I feel that burning sensation and know that his eyes are upon me. The one thing I had not considered when I dropped into my hiding place was the prospect of a quick escape. I can only pray that he is alone as I dart my eyes back and forth in hopes of finding some sort of weapon.
“Wren?” He takes a step toward me.
It’s Pace. Even with his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, I recognize the fall of his dark hair across his forehead, the lean angle of his jaw, and the bright blue blaze of his eyes as he takes another step.
“Shhh,” I say as I climb out of my hiding place. I hear the creak of the dome washers moving their baskets above us. Footsteps sound on the street beyond but they are distorted in swirling smoke and fog. I cannot tell if it is close or far away, if it is one, or many.
He shakes his head as he comes to me. What I thought before were shadows on his face turn out to be bruises. There is a cut over one of his eyes that fades into the slash of his brow. Dark circles show beneath his eyes and I realize that, like me, he has had no rest since Alex died.
And he is wanted for murder.
“I didn’t do it,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I need a place to hide. I need time to figure this out.”
A thousand thoughts fall through my mind as I look at his face. It is forbidden to bring anyone below, especially a bluecoat. What will my grandfather say? What will the council say? Where will I hide him? More thoughts follow, each one piling upon the last until I fear the weight of them will crush me. With a sudden burst of clarity I realize I’ve already made the decision. I made it when I decided to come to the surface. The only thing I need to decide now is where to hide him.
I hold out my hand. Pace looks at it as if it’s something he’s never seen before. Then a look of such intense relief washes over his face and he takes it. I realize that he is shaking. I give his fingers a squeeze and he squeezes mine back.
“Thank you.”
I nod. I even manage to smile. Beyond Pace I see two men walk into the alleyway. The smoke is so thick that I’m not certain if they are real or some sort of ghostly apparition. Then the fans suddenly start and they stop and look and their faces are covered with the filchers’ masks. The fear must show on my face because Pace turns to see what I am staring at.
We run.
* * *
I always thought I knew what fear was. Before today fear was worrying about being late for my shift. Wondering if I’d get caught and disciplined for going to the rooftops. The possibility of a cave-in down in the mines. Now I know exactly what fear is. It’s the bone-chilling, sick-to-your-stomach knowledge that if
I refuse to think that he has been captured. It is certainly a possibility. A full day has gone by since I saw him and so much has happened in my life. I don’t want to think about what I will do if he does not appear. It has come down to this. My very life depends on what he knows. On what I hope he will tell me.
I find a spot in the alley behind the library. I fade into the shadows of a doorway that leads into a basement and keep an eye on the network of stairs that lead to the roof of the building. I do not have long to wait, as a figure appears out of the smoke and stares upward.
Is it Pace? I cannot tell. His head is covered with a hood. He is not wearing his uniform. He’s dressed more like a scarab and the thought that it could be a filcher sends me back into the shadows with a gasp. He turns toward the sound and once more I feel that burning sensation and know that his eyes are upon me. The one thing I had not considered when I dropped into my hiding place was the prospect of a quick escape. I can only pray that he is alone as I dart my eyes back and forth in hopes of finding some sort of weapon.
“Wren?” He takes a step toward me.
It’s Pace. Even with his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, I recognize the fall of his dark hair across his forehead, the lean angle of his jaw, and the bright blue blaze of his eyes as he takes another step.
“Shhh,” I say as I climb out of my hiding place. I hear the creak of the dome washers moving their baskets above us. Footsteps sound on the street beyond but they are distorted in swirling smoke and fog. I cannot tell if it is close or far away, if it is one, or many.
He shakes his head as he comes to me. What I thought before were shadows on his face turn out to be bruises. There is a cut over one of his eyes that fades into the slash of his brow. Dark circles show beneath his eyes and I realize that, like me, he has had no rest since Alex died.
And he is wanted for murder.
“I didn’t do it,” he says, as if reading my mind. “I need a place to hide. I need time to figure this out.”
A thousand thoughts fall through my mind as I look at his face. It is forbidden to bring anyone below, especially a bluecoat. What will my grandfather say? What will the council say? Where will I hide him? More thoughts follow, each one piling upon the last until I fear the weight of them will crush me. With a sudden burst of clarity I realize I’ve already made the decision. I made it when I decided to come to the surface. The only thing I need to decide now is where to hide him.
I hold out my hand. Pace looks at it as if it’s something he’s never seen before. Then a look of such intense relief washes over his face and he takes it. I realize that he is shaking. I give his fingers a squeeze and he squeezes mine back.
“Thank you.”
I nod. I even manage to smile. Beyond Pace I see two men walk into the alleyway. The smoke is so thick that I’m not certain if they are real or some sort of ghostly apparition. Then the fans suddenly start and they stop and look and their faces are covered with the filchers’ masks. The fear must show on my face because Pace turns to see what I am staring at.
We run.
* * *
I always thought I knew what fear was. Before today fear was worrying about being late for my shift. Wondering if I’d get caught and disciplined for going to the rooftops. The possibility of a cave-in down in the mines. Now I know exactly what fear is. It’s the bone-chilling, sick-to-your-stomach knowledge that if
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