by Daryl Banner
“The salt to the wound was Guardian shutting down our shop because we had a corrupt boss with ties to a gang in the eleventh. Jobless, wifeless, and with two hungry sons, I had to make do. The three of us stole our way to full bellies. We didn’t want riches. We only wanted not to starve.”
“Poor things,” Aphne mutters.
“It was not a skillset I wanted my sons to know so well, but they did it because I did it, and …” Geoff eyes his sons, pained. “We stole one time too many. Guardian caught us all in a market, and then up to King Greymyn we went. Sentenced to a year in the Keep. He was merciful, the Banshee King. Merciful to us.” Geoff frowns and shakes his head pitifully. “And with but one week and two days left of our brief sentence, the Madness struck, and it seems our sentence has been sadly extended. No freedom for us now.” He gives a tired shrug. “We are all just trying to do our best, are we not?”
Forge, after a moment of bewildered staring, can only give a slow nod to him, the words not coming.
“I suppose we’re not the only prisoners here,” murmurs Geoff thoughtfully. “The Guards of the Keep surely weren’t planning to join our like for such a long time. They might as well have been sentenced along with us.”
Forge nods at the two armed men standing in the room. “All of the former guards are now part of our community. A part of our big family here.”
“Big family. Aye.” Geoff seems amused for a second, a short breath shooting out his nostrils. “And did you know that the guards of the Keep were merely assigned Guardian who were deemed not skilled or quick enough to patrol the streets?”
Forge knows the Keep guards were a faction of Guardian, as do most, but never thought to demean them in his mind like that. “They are a part of our community,” he repeats, “and they are plenty skilled in the ways of weaponwork and observation.”
“I meant no offense.” Geoff gives a nod at the guards to either side of him. “I will have to temper my tone. Guardian and I, sad to say, have never been friends. Perhaps I’ve a lesson to learn.”
“Perhaps,” agrees Forge, nodding appraisingly.
In that moment, a soft knock comes at the door. As if desperate to relieve the tension that was just built in the room, Aphne rushes to let in Wyass and two others, who carry trays of strongly aromatic food and cups of beverages generously filled to the brim. When they are set on the table, the gritty, dusty stench of the room is drowned by steamed rice and crispy bean as well as lightly salted whitefish. The aroma reminds Forge he hasn’t eaten in nearly six hours, give or take. Ever since the mine opened up, my own belly has been last on my list of worries. For now, his only worry is assessing and determining whether to fully welcome to the Undercity these three new friends.
Well, three, as soon as the sons soften up to him. “Thank you,” says Geoff. Then he gives an encouraging nudge at his sons.
Aceyn ignores his fork and grabs a handful of steamed rice. His eyes rock back as he stuffs the handful into his mouth and chews. The older son Kason forks a mouthful of crispy bean and, through it, mumbles a hurried, “Thanks,” without looking while cutting himself a bite of whitefish as hastily as if his food might run away.
Geoff watches his sons eat for a while, his own tray untouched. It is as if he is taking a moment to appreciate that his boys finally have the sustenance he’s been unable to provide, lost in the foodless mines as they’ve been for days. After the moment’s passed, his face rises from his boys as if coming out of a daze, and he gives a due nod to Aphne and the ones who brought the meal. “Thank you. I don’t oft give thanks lightly, and I am giving it three times in a row today. Thank you for saving our lives.” He looks directly at Forge. “And to you, who knows what it’s like to care for your boys.”
Forge feels a single coin of emotion drop down the vast, empty well of his heart. It takes an eternity before it lands in the water at the bottom with a distant, unsatisfying plop. He returns Geoff’s stare with a slow, calculated nod, then rises from the table.
Aphne and Forge join outside the door, giving the father and his sons space and privacy to eat. “A pity, what they’ve been through …”
The second he’s outside the room, the math rushes forth. “Aye, if you believe all of it,” Forge murmurs, “then yes, a pity, indeed.”
Aphne quirks an eyebrow. “You doubt them?”
“I doubt much these days.” He glances back at the door, curious, uncertain, wary. He wasn’t so wary when he spoke face-to-face with the father in the room. Why is he so unsettled now?
“Give it time,” Aphne says, as if reading his mind. “You and I are not the kind to warm up so quickly to any sad fuckers. Not ones with a deep cut from the mines, nor idiots with weary feet …”
Forge rolls his eyes. “Next complaint I get of ‘weary feet’, I’ll solve the issue by lopping them straight off.”
“Barbarian.” Aphne laughs at that. “I’ve neglected my duties for too long. Can’t have the workers think I’ve gone soft on them. Mind your manners,” she adds with a nod at the door as she departs.
“Mind your own,” Forge calls out after her with a teasing smirk, then glances back at the door in wonder, thinking of the father and two sons on its other side.
0290 Kid
Kid and Link find little else in the Lifted City after their brief and fleeting experience in Cloud Keep.
But, as Kid points out, the Lifted are so much easier to lift from.
For days they make camp around that bakery where Kid spilled her secret at long last to Link. Then the days become weeks as they migrate about the pretty streets and grand squares of the prestigious City. Kid, like Link, finds herself surprised at how utterly easy it is to live and get by, day by day, in this luxurious place. They expected so many rich, powerful people to have Legacies that would out them, but it just wasn’t so. Invisibly, the pair of them skirt by, unseen, as they explore every street and district of the Lifted City.
They explore for weeks more, finding new and better places to make a decent home. Anywhere here, even on the streets, felt like a clean and comfortable place to hunker down for a while.
Weeks became months. Kid and Link find one of their favorite places to visit is Lord’s Garden, which is even more beautiful than the whispers and words that float about it. Lord’s Garden is a host to every color the human eye can perceive, from one end of its green and glorious presentation to the other. Over its decorative, stone rim, Link and Kid can peer down at the slums below, which seem far less away than anywhere else in the City. Lord’s Garden sits a bit lower than the street, having short, curving staircases lined with lush vines and pretty flowers that lead the way down. Around them, the arms of the Lifted City stretch endlessly to the north and the east, this one and only Lord’s Garden like a balcony overseeing the ninth.
It’s where they make their next home for several months more.
When Kid and Link finally depart their favorite spot in the sky yet, they push along the outer rim of the Lifted City and explore the farthest side of the Privileged people. Through the streets they stroll, unseen, and several nights, they come to a stop at some other bakery or fancy restaurant. The Lifted are fools of such luxury, even taking a helping of their own food on the plates before them hardly go unnoticed. “Oh, but I thought I had three shells upon my plate,” says a stuffy woman in a bright orange scarf that makes her neck look four times its size. “Ah well, you always say I’m a fast eater,” she adds, to which her equally stuffy husband gives one dry grunt of amusement, then continues slathering butter on a slice of bread.
The Lifted are as much of idiots—or worse—than Kid thought.
“Still nothing,” points out Kid one unassuming day after the pair of them take their fill of a corner-of-the-street café that serves breads and pastries and sweet meats for breakfast. “Facility is still closed. No whispers of secret places, of strange happenings, of … her.”
“I know.” Link leans back against the ornate iron fence of the grand estate they’re seate
d in front of, some mansion in the Glassen district with a front lawn as green and bright as emeralds, full and healthy and soft. “We’ve been …”
“… acting like a pair of spoiled Lifted fools,” finishes Kid.
Link gives one chuckle at that. “I wasn’t going to say that, but … well, I suppose you’re not wrong.”
“We’re running out of—”
“No, no.” Link pats her thigh reassuringly. “We’re not. Don’t think of this as time we have, or time we’ve lost, or time we’ve spent doing nothing. Think rather of the experiences we’ve shared. Think about the fact that, every single morning, afternoon, evening, and night, we fill our bellies with the tastiest, fanciest foods.”
“They don’t always sit right in my belly.” Kid brings her free hand to her stomach and grimaces.
“Aye, the sauces sometimes are too rich, I know.”
“Why are you saying all this?” Kid asks suddenly, turning her face to Link. “You’re speaking as if we’ve already given up.”
“No, no. I’m …” Link sighs. “I want us to enjoy the time we have together. I want us to enjoy—”
Kid is on her feet at once, their hands separated, as she stares down at Link furiously. “You think you’re going to die in two years,” she spits down at him accusatorily. “You think this is the end of your life. You’ve already given up!”
Link reaches blindly for her hand, but she pulls away at once. He glances left, then right, then folds his arms as his eyes search for hers, scowling. “Akidra, I’m exposed, and I can’t see you.”
“You can’t give up!” she shouts at him. “You can’t tell me to just ‘enjoy’ everything, to ‘enjoy’ the experiences, to ‘enjoy’ the time we have. I won’t enjoy a bit of it until we find Faery!”
“I’m sorry.” Link sighs and shakes his head. “I’m … I’m sorry.”
Kid takes a minute to regain her composure. Then, after all her sense returns to her, she realizes rather quickly that she shares the same fears as Link. It was simply easy to ignore with so many nice, luxurious distractions surrounding them for so long.
I’m terrified he’s going to vanish from me, too, she realizes.
“Excuse me,” comes a voice.
The pair of them turn at once, startled. Standing in the bright green lawn of the mansion is a teenaged girl with long dark hair. She has a pointy nose, cute lips, and two Privileged eyes—which is just another way of saying she appears to look down on everything she sees. The girl is dressed in a blouse and a lavish white skirt, paired with two shiny white shoes that each have a gem affixed to the toes.
The teenager’s attention is on Link, the only one of the two of them she can see.
Link swallows, straightens his back, and plays the role of just another Lifted boy. “H-Hello,” he says for a quick greeting.
“What are you doing? Shouting at your own thoughts?”
“I …” Link shrugs. “Yes, I suppose that’s what I was doing.”
“You are not Lifted,” the girl states.
Link looks, for a second, disheartened that his tiny adjustment of posture didn’t do the trick. Of course, his act isn’t supported by the less-than-impressive clothes he wears: a pair of wrinkled jeans, a loose t-shirt with too wide a neck hole, and shoes that were once nice a month or two ago when he stole them, but now are worn and smudged at the sides.
“No,” Link confesses with a rueful smile, “I … am not.”
“Are you my brother’s tutor?” she asks lightly.
Link seems to fumble through a number of answers before, at last, settling on, “No. I’m … I’m …”
“Your name will do just as well,” the girl states stiffly, her chin held high and her hands folded over her thighs, the pose that many proper Lifted Ladies hold as they await an answer.
“My name is Shye,” he answers.
“I am Janna,” she replies, “and this is my house, and you …” She gives him a once-over with her eyes, her brows pinching with the trouble of not easily finding her words. “… you are on my lawn.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Janna. I’m sorry to have trespassed. I will be on my way.” He gives her a stiff bow, then turns to head off.
“You never said what it is that you do,” she calls out after him.
Kid is right at Link’s side, but hasn’t yet pulled him into the invisible plane, for fear of destroying the illusion he’s trying to build for this Janna girl. A mixture of worry and excitement has Kid’s stomach tightened with anticipation.
Link stops and faces Janna again, now with considerable more distance between them. No lie seems to come to him, which vexes Kid so much, as she could instantly come up with several.
“Are you my brother’s trainer?” Janna then asks.
“T-Trainer?”
“For the gym.”
Link stares at her, glances at his own muscles, then stares at her again in disbelief.
Janna goes on. “He’s already gone on his own, if that’s what you are. Or are you a guest chef for tonight’s middle-night meal?” Janna doesn’t seem capable of just letting Link get on his way. “Tell me.”
“I’m no one,” Link finally says. “Just a passerby. I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed your day. I’ll be on my way now.”
“No slumborn merely walk the streets as they please,” Janna is quick to retort. “Every slumborn here serves a purpose. Whose family do you belong to? The Mellingtons? The Simalees? The Vellas?” Her face pinches with discomfort. “I know you are not headed for the Mirand-Thrin Palace. They only employ the Lifted.”
Link is appearing very uncomfortable now, which only further adds to Kid’s frustration that he is not being a good actor. Where is all your boldness? she would argue if she could. You used to whip out a story in seconds, lying to people as we so often had to.
“I …” Link nods. “Yes, I’m headed for the … the gym. It is a place I am given tasks.”
“To clean the weights and wipe the benches of sweat? What a fitting task for a slumborn. I know no single Lifted soul who would deign to do such a thing.”
Kid gapes at the gall of this Janna teenager. This is certainly a Privileged if I’ve ever met one.
“Well, it’s surely not the most glamorous of tasks, but … well … gold is gold, and I’ve a mouth to feed.” Link gives her a nod. “Bye.”
“I will escort you to the Eastly Gym,” Janna decides suddenly. “I wish to speak to my brother, and I will be in my tutoring by the time he’s returned.”
Link stammers as his eyes go wide and he seems not to know what to do with his feet as Janna strolls past him, leading the way. Kid wonders if she ought to just grab Link’s hand and run away with him, ditching this self-important teenager.
But as soon as she has the thought, Janna suddenly whips about and reaches her hand toward him. “Come, I said.”
Link, befuddled for a moment, reluctantly takes the girl’s hand. She makes no matter of it as she walks briskly with him, hand-in-hand, down a long bright road, across the Glassen square, and into the Eastly.
Kid follows hurriedly behind, then notes that the Janna girl is also wearing white lace gloves that go up to her elbows. Of course that’s the only reason she’d dare touch the hand of a slum boy.
But perhaps there is another reason. Kid has watched the way that Lifted couples interact with one another. She’s at an age now where it very much occurs to her the sexual pull of boys toward girls and girls toward girls and boys toward boys. She had paid witness to how stiff and cold and emotionless the Lifted seem to regard love or sexual attraction. There is so much acting, so much role-assuming, so much masking of emotions up here that Kid wonders if, by all stretch of thought, this Janna girl actually finds Link attractive, and that is why she is taking such extra time with him.
The thought bothers Kid more than it amuses her.
When they arrive at the front of the Eastly gym, a teenaged boy is walking out. He’s sweet-faced, classically handsome, wit
h a bright head of golden-blond hair parted perfectly. He’s on the shorter side, about Link’s height, but much more muscular, his biceps and chest filling out the white shirt he wears, his thighs filling out his bluish, silvery shorts. He wears complementing blue shoes.
“Athan,” says Janna at once, stopping and letting go of Link’s hand at once. “You’ve already finished.”
This boy, whom Kid takes to be her brother, offers Janna only a fleeting moment of regard before lifting his face to the unfamiliar one of Link. Athan gives him a polite smile, a nod, and a, “Hello.”
Janna straightens up. “This is Shye. He works here at the Eastly gym, and I was … escorting him.”
This Athan fellow seems miles more friendly and polite than any Lifted person Kid’s ever seen. He gives Link another sturdy nod, then extends a hand toward him. “I’ve never seen you here before. You must be a new hire, of course. I’m Athan Broadmore. A pleasure to meet you.”
Link does the dutiful thing of shaking the boy’s hand and giving him a stiff nod of acknowledgement. “You, too.”
Janna sighs impatiently. “Well, I’d only come to make sure he was properly escorted, as he’s not of here.”
Athan’s eyes seem to light up at once, and he’s upon Link once again. “Oh? You’re of the slums? Which part of the slums? Where do you live? Do you have a big family?” It’s like a switch was flicked on by those words and the Lifted boy is prickling with excitement. “Tell me what brought you here to work at my gym. Do you work at a gym in the slums? Which ward—”
“Goodness, Athan, shut up!” exclaims Janna, red-faced.
Athan offers a small, apologetic nod. “I’m sorry. I … I happen—”
“He happens to have a sick fascination with your kind,” explains Janna with due annoyance and a flipping of her hair. “Ignore him.”
Link gives a tightened smile, takes one step back, then says, “I’m very pleased to meet the lovely pair of you. Lady Janna, it was very kind of you to escort me, and I thank you.”
