The Chimney: The Merc Papers

by G. T. Spoor

  “Is that so? Then maybe I’ll have to look into it myself.”

  That got his attention. He started laughing.

  “You? Look, Miss Doyle, this isn’t some game we’re playing here. It can get dangerous, too dangerous for a pretty little thing like you. This is a task for men. Besides, without a Merc license, there’s not much you can do.”

  “Merc license?”

  “Issued by the Bureau.” He pointed to a framed document hanging on the wall over his left shoulder. “The only way you can investigate a crime in New Doral is if you have a license or you work for someone who is licensed.”

  “Like you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Like you. I can work for you.”

  “Sorry. I already have a secretary.”

  “I mean as a Merc.”

  He stared at her for a moment and started laughing again. “You,” he said. “A Merc. You’re not exactly qualified, and besides, if I put a skirt out on the streets as a Merc, you know what will happen to my reputation? No. Nobody, in their right mind, is going to hire a woman as a Merc.”

  “Is that so? Well, then I’ll have to get my own license.”

  “And nobody in the Bureau is going to give a license to a woman. It’s not going to happen, Miss Doyle.”

  “Then I guess we have nothing more to discuss.”

  Petrova didn’t reply. He simply waved his hand toward the exit and returned to his paperwork. Emily stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. She heard the room snicker as the Mercs quickly looked away. Berk was standing off to one side. He looked apologetic, almost as if he knew she was wasting her time.

  “Sorry,” the big man said. “Thin walls.”

  “So it would seem.” Emily headed for the front door but stopped. Turning, she addressed Berk. “What is the fastest way to get to tier eleven?”

  “Tier eleven? Why would you want to go there?”

  “No reason.”

  “Well, you can always take one of the transit tubes, but if you only want to go down one level, I guess the fastest way would be the lifts.”

  “Lifts?”

  “Yeah, there’s a public lift station about six blocks from here, down on Hobs street.”

  “Six blocks. Thank you, Berk.”

  ~~~***~~~

  The public lift station, on Hobs street, was easier to find. It was another tall building with no windows, much like the transit station. However, the interior was quite different—circular and with no ceiling, or at least none Emily could see. It was like looking up a massive chimney with no end in sight.

  People were lined up in front of two enormous metal enclosures that hung side by side, not unlike a pair of birdcages. Each lift was twenty feet in diameter and suspended over an opening in the floor by a long, thick chain. The chains came from somewhere high above, passed through the cages, and continued down through the floor below. Standing in front of them, letting people on, were a pair of dowers in their standard gray uniforms.

  Emily watched as the line of people started to fill each of the metal enclosures. When they reached their capacity, which was about fifteen or twenty people, the dowers closed the gates and locked them in. After that, everyone stood motionless and waited. It was only a few minutes before a familiar signal was heard. Three long whistles followed by three short ones; that’s when everything started moving.

  First, there was a high-pitched metallic screech followed by a couple of clangs. It sounded like a blacksmith beating on his anvil. Slowly, the birdcage on the left descended into the floor, while the birdcage on the right was being pulled up the Chimney. The movement was surprisingly smooth despite the wretched noise.

  It appeared the entire system consisted of several lifts along each of the chains. As Emily watched one going up, another was being lowered. The two lifts would pass each other midway up the shaft and as the one got closer to the ground, another one came up out of the floor. When the two enclosures were side by side, the whole system came to a screeching halt and everything went silent. Nobody moved.

  This time, it was three short whistles followed by three long ones.

  The dowers unlocked the cages.

  Most of the people got out, but a few remained to continue their journey up or down another level. Emily quickly got into the line going down and waited her turn. It seemed like most of the passengers were going up, as the line for that cage was considerably longer. When it came her time to board, she greeted the dower before stepping onto the lift.

  It took time for the other side to fill up and even longer before they heard the signal. She braced herself against the bars and waited for the metallic screech. The chains trembled and each clang vibrated the floor beneath her feet. The descent wasn’t as smooth as it looked from the outside, but nobody in the cage seemed to take much notice of the noise or the motion. Emily watched as the floor rose up around them. She couldn’t see anything after that. The hole in the floor was only ten feet wider than the cage and they were soon surrounded by solid stone. It was like descending into a dark well, but it didn’t last long. When they passed through the stone slab, the room opened up again.

  Sticking her head through the bars, she looked to see how far they had to go. It was a long way down; needless to say it was going to take some time. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to do inside the enclosure other than sit and wait. Most of the passengers were doing just that. They read their papers, talked among themselves, and some were even having lunch. That was something Emily hadn’t considered. All she had to eat that morning was a muffin Sarah had baked the night before. At least she thought it was a muffin. It was black and tasted like charcoal. Clearly Sarah wasn’t much of a baker.

  Turning her attention outside the lift, Emily examined the walls of the shaft. There wasn’t much light to see by other than the one suspended from the center of the cage, but she was sure she could see something engraved on the surface. It appeared to be a picture, or maybe even a mural, but who would go through all the trouble of putting it where nobody could see it? She wondered if the other passengers even knew it existed. They didn’t seem to take much notice of it, but then this probably wasn’t their first trip.

  When the second lift passed them on its way up, she knew they had reached the halfway point. She watched as it rose higher up the shaft. The passengers on that lift seemed as disinterested in the experience as the passengers on her lift. With nothing else to do until they reached the bottom, Emily found a place away from the other riders and sat with her back against the bars. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she tried to rationalize her latest decision.

  She hadn’t thought this all the way through. What did her father always say? Look before you leap. Well, once again, she leaped first. When Petrova told her there was nothing she could do and dismissed her as if she were an insignificant annoyance, she took it as a personal challenge. She was going to prove him wrong, but didn’t her father also warn her about rash actions? To take offense at a slight provocation is a sign of being short-tempered and is seen as a weakness. He even went on to say that true patience means bearing the unbearable. She could learn a thing or two from that dower down in the transit station. Some saw Matue’s job of standing on the edge of the tube, holding up a lantern as demeaning, but he saw it as his duty, and he did it without complaining. He was bearing the unbearable.

  She wasn’t only ignoring her lessons, she was also ignoring the tenets. The eleventh tenet says that when someone does you harm, do not seek revenge but forgive them. Sometimes the eleventh tenet was harder to follow than the first.

  So, if both her father and the tenets warned about rash actions, why was she doing what she was doing?

  She didn’t have an answer.

  It would have to wait till later.

  The lift came to a stop.

  Slowly getting to her feet, Emily stood with the rest of the passengers. They waited for the signal.

  Three short notes followed by three long ones
.

  A dower approached the gate and unlocked it. He stepped aside, letting everyone out. A few remained. They were going down even farther. Emily silently followed the crowd and crossed the lobby floor, out of the lift station and into the streets of New Doral.

  Nothing had changed, even though she was now a whole city lower.

  There wasn’t much of a difference between the two tiers. There were fewer people, but it appeared to be the same city. She’d almost expect to walk six blocks up and find the Red Wolf headquarters again, but in reality, she would be standing beneath it. It was a hard concept to grasp, having an entire city suspended over your head, but then she remembered it wouldn’t be just one city, but ten of them. She had to wonder what it was like on the upper levels. Did they have real lawns with white picket fences as Sarah wanted to believe, or was it simply more of the same? For some reason, Emily doubted it was all flowers and sunshine. She couldn’t think of anything that would grow in this environment.

  Standing on the sidewalk, with no direction in mind, she decided to head north. Once again, she had no idea where she was going, so any direction was better than no direction. She told Petrova if she was to investigate her abduction, she would check out the alley where it happened. It seemed like the most logical place to start, except she didn’t know where it was. All she knew was that it was within walking distance of the transit station, but she had no idea where the transit station was. She stopped for a moment to watch a few of the mana-powered vehicles go by. It seemed like the faster means of traveling in the city. If only she had a few coins on her; she could hire a jitney to take her where she needed to go. Unfortunately, what little money she had was taken by Squeaky Voice and his gang. Begging for a ride was an option, but then that might go against her teachings. Of course, there was nothing in the tenets against asking for directions.

  The first person she saw was a tall, thin man wearing a dark blue overcoat. He had a rolled-up newspaper tucked under his arm and seemed to be in a hurry.

  “Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where to find the transit—”

  “No. I have no idea where it is,” he said and walked past without even giving her a second glance.

  The second person she stopped wasn’t much of a help either. She was an older woman in a frumpy brown jacket, but at least she apologized before dismissing her. A simple “Sorry,” was all she got. As for the third individual, he just harrumphed in her general direction.

  So much for the hospitality of the citizens of New Doral. At that moment, she spotted the jitney parked across the street. It was a large black vehicle with a rounded back and the words “Royal Passage” written across the door in bold white letters. The driver was an orc who watched her from the front seat. Emily started toward him but then noticed two goblins heading in her direction.

  Like orcs, she had heard of goblins, but she had never seen one. Diminutive, sinewy creatures with moss-colored skin, their faces were long and narrow with sharp chins and large beak-like noses. Long pointed ears protruded from mops of black hair. They were both dressed in what could only be described as rags. One carried a box, and although it was large and appeared heavy, it didn’t seem to be much of a burden for him.

  It was strange to see them walking openly amount the vir, and although some gave them sour looks, most of the people ignored them. When they passed her on the sidewalk, she called out to them.

  “Excuse me.”

  They stopped and exchanged a nervous look. The one holding the box said something to his companion, but Emily couldn’t understand what he said. The language was guttural. There were even a few sounds she would have found nearly impossible to make. The second goblin reluctantly stepped forward. He wouldn’t make eye contact with her and instead kept his gaze diverted to the ground.

  “What do you want, mistress?” he asked in a meek voice.

  “I was wondering, if you knew where the transit station was.”

  The question seemed to set him at ease, almost as if he was expecting something worse. Slowly he pointed back the way they came.

  “Far,” he said. “Many crossings.”

  Clearly he was not accustomed to speaking with vir and Emily decided not to prolong his discomfort. It was enough he was willing to give her directions. If she understood them correctly, the station was still several blocks away, but at least she was heading in the right direction.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  They stared at her in wide-eyed amazement as they continued their course down the sidewalk. They were still staring at her when the one carrying the large box, bumped into three vir exiting one of the buildings. The box toppled over, spilling its contents of apples into the street.

  “Look where you’re going, you damn slag,” one of the vir yelled. He was a tall, slim man with pale blond hair. He stared down at the goblins in disgust as if their sheer proximity was enough to make him ill.

  What was it Brian said? There was a hierarchy in the city. It appeared goblins were even lower on the list than the dowers or even the orcs.

  The goblin, who was carrying the box, started picking up the apples while his companion tried to apologize, but none of the men seemed to care what he had to say. Without warning, one of the vir, a man with a mass of shocking-red hair and a beard to match, placed his boot on the goblin’s chest and kicked him over. The goblin stumbled backward, falling into the street. Red Beard laughed and proceeded to stomp on the few apples within reach.

  “What are rock vermin doing up here anyway?” the blond asked.

  “Looks like they’re stealing fruit.” Red Beard answered.

  The goblin he’d kicked in the street got back on his feet. He bowed his head and spoke softly. “No, good sirs. We no steal. We buy.” His voice was frail.

  “Where would pit garbage like you get money to buy fruit?” the third vir, who had remained silent up to this point, asked. He was slightly shorter than the other two but much stockier. He also sported a long ponytail that hung down his back, which Emily couldn’t help but mentally compare to the tail of a jackass.

  “We buy. Money,” the goblin stammered.

  “Probably stole the money too,” Stocky said.

  The goblin, who had been picking up the apples, slowly got to his feet. Turning, he faced his accuser. It would appear goblins didn’t like to be called thieves any more than vir did. His companion tried to hold him back.

  “Well, look what we got here,” Red Beard said. “Looks like someone has to be shown their place.”

  The blond vir suddenly pulled out a metal rod, seemingly from nowhere, and struck the standing goblin upside the head. There was no hesitation in his action. It was as natural to him as swatting a fly. The goblin fell to the sidewalk. His companion moved to help him but was restrained by Stocky.

  “Get them off the streets,” the blond vir said. “We have to teach these slags a lesson.”

  Red Beard grabbed the fallen goblin by the hair and dragged him into the alley while Stocky carried the other one. The blond stayed behind, just long enough to make sure they weren’t seen. He looked directly at Emily but didn’t seem to notice or care she was standing there. When he was sure they were in the clear, he followed his friends.

  Emily watched the whole scene in disbelief. She had never seen such brutality with no justification. The three men didn’t even care she witnessed it. What did that say about her place in the hierarchy of New Doral, she wondered?

  There was no gray area here. At least none she could see. She didn’t need the tenets to tell her what to do this time, although if she did, it would have been number ten. When you see someone unfortunate, you help them. Maybe that wasn’t the true meaning of the tenet, but she grabbed a few of the apples off the street and ran into the alley. By the time she reached them, Stocky had one of the goblins in a headlock while his two friends worked over the other one.

  “Stop it,” she shouted. “Leave him alone.”

  To her amazement, they did stop, but only for a
moment. The blond vir looked up. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and grinned.

  “Get out of here, little girl. This has nothing to do with you,” he said.

  “But you’re hurting him.”

  “These slags have got to learn who their betters are,” Red Beard added.

  “But you’re going to kill him.”

  “So what. What’s one less?”

  So much for reasoning with them, but she had to try. First tenet and all. Next step, assess the situation. Three targets, but they were too close together. Rush them and she’d probably end up taking the place of the goblin being beaten. Best course of action—separate them as quickly as possible and give the goblins time to escape.

  Weighing one of the apples in her hand, Emily hurled it at the vir with the red beard. It struck the side of his head, dazing him for a moment, but it was enough to get him away from his victim. The attack startled Stocky who quickly turned to see where the apple had come from, but in doing so, he lost control of his captive. Breaking free, the once docile goblin rushed the blond vir. Stocky reached behind his back, and with a flick of his wrist, pulled out a two-foot-long metal rod. Collapsible weapons—that’s why they seemed to come out of nowhere. He swung at the goblin, but Emily was already there.

  Catch the arm. Kick out the knee. Pull him down. Bend the arm over your shoulder. Break the grip. Disarm the threat. Swing the rod and break the nose.

  Stocky was down.

  The short man with the jackass ponytail was rolling around the alley, his hands covering his face trying to stem the flow of blood.

  The goblin was now on the blond vir’s back, his long, thin fingers wrapped around the man’s throat, which left only Red Beard. He had already recovered from the apple upside the head and was running toward her. A similar-looking metal rod was in his right hand poised to strike. She quickly closed the distance between them. Sliding under his swing, she grabbed the back of his belt and pulled him off balance; his momentum did the rest. He went down hard, unable to brace himself. The rod flew out of his hand. Rolling to his knees, he quickly grabbed for his lost weapon, but Emily struck his outstretched arm. The bone cracked. Red Beard quickly scrambled back, clutching his broken wrist. Emily retrieved the second metal rod.