door, pointing around with lamps and
talking excitedly. Owen followed them through, then came back.
"This is extensive," he said, his voice eager.
"They've been here for a while, and they planned well. Look at this."
Then he disappeared back through the hatch. Reluctantly, I followed.
The room beyond was small and metal, like the inside of a
ship. There were racks against the near wall, but they were empty. Plenty of
disturbed dust made it clear that something had been stacked here. Supplies,
probably.
There was a spiral staircase leading down. Some of Owen's
people were rushing down it, their voices echoing up from metal depths along
with the smell of the lake. I took out my revolver and followed. Owen laughed
when he saw the bully in my hand. Let him get shot, then. His call.
The staircase went for a while. It became disorienting,
spinning down in darkness and metal, the only light coming from our lamps. I
would rather have invoked my eyes, but they would be no good around those
lamps, and Alexians had no similar trick to help them see in the dark. Hell,
half these men weren't even sworn scions of the Healer, anyway. It felt like we
were spinning forever down into the city.
The end came in another small room, almost identical to the
one up top. The air was cold and the walls leaked rust. There was another hatch
here. When we threw the wheel the bolts undogged easily and the door creaked
open. It hadn't been used much.
"I'll go first," I said. "There might be
traps."
"There could have been traps anywhere on our way
down," Owen said. "Why now?"
"You don't trap the start of the path your people are
going to take. You wait until the way opens up a little, then put something a
bit to the side." I took the nearest man's lamp and snapped it off, then
indicated that the others should do the same. They looked nervous about that.
"If you're in a dark place, it's good to set a trap that's triggered by
light. That way you're sure it'll go off, eventually."
They looked at each other, then at me, then at Justicar Owen.
He shrugged. The lights went out, one by one. When we were wrapped in cold,
dark air, I invoked the Torches of the Fellwater. Everything settled into
shades of gray.
I crept to the hatch and peered through the opening, my
bully held loosely against my thigh. Nothing blew up, so I stepped through,
leaving the hatch open just a crack. The ground under my feet was springy, like
wooden planking. The air smelled of tar and water. Slowly I was able to make
out the space. It was big and round, like a massive pipe that had been capped.
We had come down against one wall. There was a dock, maybe ten feet on each
side, held up by tar-sticky pylons. Everything else was water. There were coils
of rope and an antique seaman's lamp lying on the dock.
Either some kind of depthship had been waiting for them, or
they had breathing machines that let them swim out. I thought about all the
toys upstairs, and the abandoned canes. Children and old men. Probably a ship.
I sighed and started to turn back, but something caught my
eye. It sparkled among the ropes, and it takes a very special thing to sparkle
when there's no light around. Ignoring the bedtime story I had told Owen and
his boys about traps, I went over and picked the thing up. Let's be honest, any
trap made by an Amonite was going to be miles too clever for me to figure out.
Happily, there was no trap. Just a necklace, draped
carefully across the coil of rope. Dangling from my hand, it turned slowly, an
inner light snaking out from its heart. A simple triangle, wood braced with
iron, etched in bronze, suspended from an iron chain. I knew it well. It
belonged to the Fratriarch.
They left it behind. She did. She left it for me to find. I
held it up, letting it shimmer in the unlight of my invoked eyes. How had she
gotten it? Ripped from his throat as he struggled? Dropped from his dead
fingers? Left behind as he fled? Where had it come from, and where did it lead?
"He gave
talking excitedly. Owen followed them through, then came back.
"This is extensive," he said, his voice eager.
"They've been here for a while, and they planned well. Look at this."
Then he disappeared back through the hatch. Reluctantly, I followed.
The room beyond was small and metal, like the inside of a
ship. There were racks against the near wall, but they were empty. Plenty of
disturbed dust made it clear that something had been stacked here. Supplies,
probably.
There was a spiral staircase leading down. Some of Owen's
people were rushing down it, their voices echoing up from metal depths along
with the smell of the lake. I took out my revolver and followed. Owen laughed
when he saw the bully in my hand. Let him get shot, then. His call.
The staircase went for a while. It became disorienting,
spinning down in darkness and metal, the only light coming from our lamps. I
would rather have invoked my eyes, but they would be no good around those
lamps, and Alexians had no similar trick to help them see in the dark. Hell,
half these men weren't even sworn scions of the Healer, anyway. It felt like we
were spinning forever down into the city.
The end came in another small room, almost identical to the
one up top. The air was cold and the walls leaked rust. There was another hatch
here. When we threw the wheel the bolts undogged easily and the door creaked
open. It hadn't been used much.
"I'll go first," I said. "There might be
traps."
"There could have been traps anywhere on our way
down," Owen said. "Why now?"
"You don't trap the start of the path your people are
going to take. You wait until the way opens up a little, then put something a
bit to the side." I took the nearest man's lamp and snapped it off, then
indicated that the others should do the same. They looked nervous about that.
"If you're in a dark place, it's good to set a trap that's triggered by
light. That way you're sure it'll go off, eventually."
They looked at each other, then at me, then at Justicar Owen.
He shrugged. The lights went out, one by one. When we were wrapped in cold,
dark air, I invoked the Torches of the Fellwater. Everything settled into
shades of gray.
I crept to the hatch and peered through the opening, my
bully held loosely against my thigh. Nothing blew up, so I stepped through,
leaving the hatch open just a crack. The ground under my feet was springy, like
wooden planking. The air smelled of tar and water. Slowly I was able to make
out the space. It was big and round, like a massive pipe that had been capped.
We had come down against one wall. There was a dock, maybe ten feet on each
side, held up by tar-sticky pylons. Everything else was water. There were coils
of rope and an antique seaman's lamp lying on the dock.
Either some kind of depthship had been waiting for them, or
they had breathing machines that let them swim out. I thought about all the
toys upstairs, and the abandoned canes. Children and old men. Probably a ship.
I sighed and started to turn back, but something caught my
eye. It sparkled among the ropes, and it takes a very special thing to sparkle
when there's no light around. Ignoring the bedtime story I had told Owen and
his boys about traps, I went over and picked the thing up. Let's be honest, any
trap made by an Amonite was going to be miles too clever for me to figure out.
Happily, there was no trap. Just a necklace, draped
carefully across the coil of rope. Dangling from my hand, it turned slowly, an
inner light snaking out from its heart. A simple triangle, wood braced with
iron, etched in bronze, suspended from an iron chain. I knew it well. It
belonged to the Fratriarch.
They left it behind. She did. She left it for me to find. I
held it up, letting it shimmer in the unlight of my invoked eyes. How had she
gotten it? Ripped from his throat as he struggled? Dropped from his dead
fingers? Left behind as he fled? Where had it come from, and where did it lead?
"He gave
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