Steamborn by Eric R. Asher Page B

covered with squares of steel.” He pointed out another of the hinged doors in the street as they walked by it. “Like the one you tripped on.”
    It looked rusty, and Jacob had serious doubts that anyone could open it. “What are they?”
    “There’s a train track under the streets.”
    “What?” Jacob asked, and he couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. “That’s ridiculous.”
    “Before the war, it served the trade routes. Once the fighting began in earnest, we used it to smuggle goods beneath the walls. Not everyone in Dauschen was against us, even if they were allied with the desert cities. That’s when the bridge was built across the mountain pass.”
    “Really?” Jacob asked, the laughter gone from his voice. He knew Dauschen had been a powerful enemy in the Deadlands War, but they’d slowly helped build up a trade alliance in the decades after the war. Jacob had seen that track more times than he could count, but he always assumed it wound around the mountain and went somewhere else. If what Charles said was actually true, that meant the tracks didn’t go around the mountain, they ran straight into the cliff face and under the city. “The tracks are still there?”
    Charles nodded. “Through doors like those, and down into the catacombs.”
    Jacob adjusted the backpack he was carrying that held the mechanical arm. “Can we go down one? After we finish at the hospital?”
    “Do you have a key?” Charles asked.
    “No,” Jacob said. “You need a key?”
    “Yes, most of the catacombs have been locked for the better part of a decade.”
    “There has to be some way down,” Jacob said. He stepped around a woman in a fine cream gown, pushing a baby stroller. She spun a lace parasol in her hand and nodded to Jacob. He smiled before Charles grabbed him by the collar. “What?” he asked as he looked up.
    “Food,” Charles said, handing a street vendor two coppers. “Two plain.”
    “Here you are,” the vendor said. He handed Charles two long, thin pieces of bread.
    “What is that?” Jacob asked.
    “Saltbread.” Charles stuffed the end of one piece into his mouth and handed Jacob the other.
    Jacob hesitated, and then took a bite. He was hungry, after all. The bread was slightly chewy with a thin crust all around it, and the salt crunched on the outside. “This is great!” He promptly stuffed half the saltbread into his mouth.
    “Can’t get it in the Lowlands,” Charles said. “It’s an old recipe they keep guarded.”
    They passed a man in a finely cut suit, perfectly cleaned. He raised the edge of his lip and exhaled in disgust. “Lowland filth. They should have left them outside the wall.”
    “What the hell?” Jacob said as he slowed his pace. The man kept walking as though nothing out of the ordinary had been said.
    Charles grabbed Jacob’s arm and ushered him along. “Ignore them. You’ll find many Highborns who don’t sympathize with the plight of the Lowlands. For all we know, that man may own one of the inns that are sheltering so many of the Lowlanders, commanded by Parliament to do so. Many people here have influence and power, and sometimes it’s best not to antagonize them.”
    It didn’t feel right to Jacob, and the man’s snide words gnawed at him. He finished the saltbread, and once that distraction was no more, he realized he was actually nervous. “Is this a good idea? It just doesn’t seem like enough.”
    “Do not doubt yourself,” Charles said.
    Jacob took a deep breath as he walked through the front door of the hospital. It was still light outside, but most of the people in the front seemed to be asleep.
    “They’ve had a long couple days,” Charles said.
    Jacob nodded and led Charles past the thin linen divider. He smiled when he saw Reggie against the left wall beside Bobby’s bed, both snoring. Jacob looked to his right and the boy stared back. His mother slouched at his side, and the heavy bags under her eyes told Jacob how exhausted she