“Who’s that new helper of yours?”
“None of your business.”
“Is he just a buddy or is he another apprentice?” the man persisted, stubbornly looking for a conversation.
“I said it’s none of your business.”
“Well, if he’s an apprentice, why’s the girl still carryin’ that thing?”
“She’s tough. She can handle it.”
Laura wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.
It was slower than usual, but they made it to the nearest elevator. The bearded man brought it up, where more miners flooded out, paying them no attention though Okane gave them a wide berth. The three Sweepers boarded the elevator.
“Good luck,” the man wished them. Laura decided he had no idea what they were doing.
The grilles rattled shut. Laura swung her side of the trunk as the elevator began to rise, and as a result Okane stumbled.
“Are we just doing the Pit rounds today?” she asked, pretending not to notice. “Just sitting around in the shop the rest of the day?”
“We’re visiting the Amuletory afterwards.”
“Are we really?”
“What’s with that tone?” Clae glanced back. “Yes, we are.”
Laura made a face. Clae snorted. They entered the closed shaft. A short time later they reached sunlight again and the grille opened. This location looked nearly identical to other Pit locations, save for different buildings nearby. A steeple jutted up beside the wall, casting part of the walkway in shadow and a spray of rainbow through its colored windows.
Clae made a beeline for the Pit cover. Okane watched him go with apprehension, and Laura had to drag him out. Meanwhile Clae started turning the wheel. Laura could hear screeching as the slats moved. The opening yawned almost completely uncovered before she and Okane reached it, setting down the trunk as Clae finished.
“Right.” He rubbed his hands together as he walked over to them. “Like I said before, we’ll pour the kin down here. We’re not dropping this Egg down, we’re taking off the lid and pouring it nice and slow. Take it out, and remember, this is the only one we have.”
“Out of curiosity, how long would it take to get a new one?” Laura asked, opening the trunk.
“God only knows. If you don’t want to carry this vessel’s worth of regular Eggs, you’ll treat it carefully.”
That seemed aimed at Okane, for good reason. Laura was used to this already. She and Okane took hold of the Egg handles and lifted it from the trunk. Clae hovered over them, twitching badly when Okane stumbled. Laura managed to save it from cracking into the ground twice before Clae intervened.
“Oh for the love of—Just step aside and watch.”
He wormed his way in and took hold of some handles, shooing Okane away. He watched them from a slight distance, and Laura felt relieved.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me, concentrate,” Clae shot back.
They lowered the Egg gently and he unscrewed the cap. He balanced most of the weight on his leg as he set the lid aside, then began to tip the Egg. Laura helped him steady it and soon enough the kin spilled out, beginning its strange, dancing descent down the Pit. Laura peered over the edge to watch better.
“Don’t fall in.”
“I know better than that,” she scoffed, but drew away all the same. There was nothing to catch herself on if she did end up falling.
“That’s all there is to it.” Clae glanced at Okane, who seemed just as intrigued with the kin’s movement as Laura was a moment ago.
“Really?” Okane muttered.
“Now this goes back in the trunk and we leave.”
He and Laura straightened the Egg, and he put the cap back on. That done, they brought it to the trunk to close it all up. Once that was taken care of, he ordered Okane to help carry again. With less weight the trunk was easier to manage.
The elevator ride down stayed quiet and uneventful. The bearded man grinned as they stepped out onto the walkway.
“That was fast.”
“We didn’t have to wait for the elevator,” Clae quipped.
“True enough. I think somebody’s behind on the work schedule.” The man scratched his head. “Usually the shift changes and people go ta the lower levels round this time.”
Laura’s heart skipped a beat and she looked around. The noise was the same, the amount of smoke the same, the buildings no different from usual, but … “Did something happen?” She may not have been very close to her father, but he was in the mines below. She’d hated dark places as a child, and now, with firsthand knowledge of infestations, the thought was so much worse.
“Nah, if something happened we’d all hear it.”
“Are you sure?” she said.
Clae raised a brow at her concern and jerked his head at the elevator shaft. “The interior has an alarm system. If something happened, it’d be loud.”
“An absolute racket,” the bearded man laughed. “No worries here. I suppose you’ll be in a hurry on some other business, then? I’ll take ya back to the door.”
He led them back the way they came, passing by some workers on the way, who did double takes upon noticing the addition to the Sweeper group. Laura was too busy peering over the railing to notice them. The lower levels were too dark and wreathed in smoke, but at least there was nothing strange. No alarms.
* * *
The main Amuletory was located in the Fifth Quarter. The argument for this was so that even the poorer, uneducated people would be able to have access to it. A good idea, but Laura wasn’t a fan of walking through the surrounding district.
The ramshackle buildings squatted discolored and old, but were kept up so they were still usable despite obvious disrepair. The dirty streets and dilapidated structures carried a dark overtone, as opposed to the yellowish, brighter air of upper Quarters. The business district managed to be slightly cleaner than the rest, with smaller buildings contrasted with the many-leveled apartments behind them. People stood on flat roofs as if they were porches, even going so far as to bring up rocking chairs or tables.
Through this business district the Sweepers walked, carrying the big faded trunk. Laura had never felt completely safe here, even less so now that they carried something big and potentially valuable. The eyes of those rooftop watchers burned into her.
“How much longer until we get there?” she asked, too busy eyeing their spectators to pay much attention to their other surroundings.
“At the corner, see for yourself.” Clae waved a hand ahead.
Sure enough, on the corner twenty yards beyond, the sign for the Amuletory stood out on the sidewalk. The large lettering implied a circus more than a shop. They quickened their pace, passed a store with floor rugs hanging out on display, and pushed open the door to their destination.
The Amuletory was small, only about half the space of the Sweeper shop. Amulets of all kinds were strung up, on the walls, on the ceiling, laid out on tables, and dangling in the window. There was no rhyme or reason to their shapes or colors, simply a giant smattering of everything. In between the piles lay incense burners, which fogged up the room. It was meant to smell good, but Laura felt it like a physical blow. Her eyes watered. The whole store seemed wrapped up in a stuffy, strange something, as if it was meant to look like the hideout of some witch. They were selling magical items, Laura supposed, so they might as well go all the way. Play up the gimmick and all.
A woman with heavy eye makeup sat in a musty chair near the back. Her dirty orange hair lay uncombed, and her cigarette only added to the haze. When she saw them, her scarlet lips turned up in a smile.
“Hello,” she purred. “Back again, Mr. Sinclair?”
“Obviously. Where’s Marshall?”
“On business.” She stood and slinked closer, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “What about you, then? Are you here for business? Or something else?”
It should’ve been obvious that he was here on business
—he came in with two apprentices on his heels. Besides, he was Clae.
“Business. Now where’s Marshall?”
The woman slid even closer, and Laura rolled her eyes. This woman, Freda Ashford, and the smell were the two reasons she couldn’t stand this place. The smell almost hurt, and Freda kept trying to drape herself all over Clae, which made Laura uncomfortable. She really didn’t need to see that. In the past she’d begged Clae to just visit a different Amuletory location—there were satellites all around Amicae—but he frequented this one because he appreciated Marshall’s attitude. Instead of complaining, she wordlessly pulled Okane to the side so they could deposit the trunk, and inspected one of the amulets in the window. It looked like an ugly theater mask.
“Are you sure I can’t help you?”
“I believe I’ve made it clear on multiple occasions that no, you can’t. Now go get your boss.”
Freda let out a sigh that somehow managed to be annoyed and flirty at the same time, did a strange toss of the head, eyed him a bit longer, then sashayed to the door. She opened it and leaned out; her voice went from silky smooth to a harsh bark.
“Hey you stinking little shits! Tell Marshall to get back here, now!” She closed the door and smiled at them again. “He’ll just be a moment.”
“I’m sure.”
Laura sat down on the trunk. There was no telling how long this would take. Okane kept standing, but she ignored him. Maybe if she pretended he didn’t exist he’d vanish.
“So how are you today?” Freda gravitated back toward Clae and ignored the other two completely.
Clae didn’t comment. He glanced over at the vacated chair, then decided to entertain himself by looking at the amulets.
“Well?” Freda pressed, actually leaning on him, and Clae made a hissing sound and stepped away.
“Back off, woman.”
“Just trying to make friendly conversation.”
“Freda, stop harassing the man.” The deep voice made Laura jump.
Jacob Marshall was intimidating. He was the most muscular person Laura knew, with veins bulging out on his arms and neck. His dark head had been shaved bald and scars wound about on his face and right shoulder. Tattoos rose up his arms, even more sinister when paired with a blind right eye in a pale blue-gray color. His face was arranged in a way that made him look permanently angry.
“Sinclair.” He nodded.
“Marshall.” Clae turned away from Freda, who looked rather disappointed. “I’ve got some amulets for you.”
“Of course.” Marshall walked back toward the chair and pulled a large notebook out from under a table. As he flipped it open, he asked, “How many this time?”
“Didn’t count.”
“Well then, let’s see them.”
Clae emptied out his pockets. It was all the unbroken amulets he and Laura had found, or what had been turned in to them, over the past month.
While one function of the Amuletory might be the sale of amulets, its other job was recycling. Amulets couldn’t be allowed to run out of magic or they’d become ideal homes for monsters, so a system was set up to get them powered again. People were supposed to turn in amulets to one of the Amuletories, which sent them below Amicae. There they would be placed next to the magic strain: a type of rock called Gin. They absorbed magic from there, and were later returned to the owners. If there were no owners, the newly functioning amulet was put up for sale here. Many upper-class people either couldn’t get down to an Amuletory or were reluctant to do so, and turned their amulets in to the Sweeper shop instead. Such amulets Clae usually scribbled the owner’s name on in pen. Quite a few of those were dumped onto the table now. Laura recognized the one from the Sullivan house among them. Marshall took notes on all of them, documenting appearance and owners and other information, which he would later share with the police—that way they’d get a better idea of who had amulets and who to check in with should something arise.
“Twenty-six,” Marshall confirmed. “Difficult to get ahold of?”
“The difficult ones tend to be broken,” said Clae. “Most of these just need a refresher.”
“Of course.” Marshall tipped one amulet to better read the name.
“Any of yours?” murmured Freda, leaning her hip on the table.
“No.”
Sweepers had special amulets: theirs were pieces of the magic strain itself. As such, they never ran out of power. These types of amulets were rare and generally unknown to the population, but people who did know would pay amazing amounts of money for one.
“You never do,” Freda sighed. Obviously she wasn’t in on the secret. “We’d take good care of yours, you know.”
“I’m sure.” Clae rolled his eyes, and Marshall glanced up at him with something that might’ve been amusement.
“I’ll have copies of this sent over to the police.”
“Good. Maybe then they’ll get off my back. The new chief thinks I’m up to something.”
“You’re harmless,” Marshall chuckled.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Clae drifted back and gestured to Laura and Okane. “Let’s go.”
“You could stay awhile,” said Freda.
“Business,” Clae repeated, and they left the store.
Once they were outside, Laura took a deep breath of fresh air.
“I thought I was going to die in there,” she muttered.
“They do go a little heavy on the incense.”
“How can they survive with that much smell in the air?” Laura followed, pulling the trunk and Okane along as Clae walked down the street.
“Sheer determination. That or they live on it. The whole block is obsessed.” Clae jerked his head at another shop, which smelled strongly of lavender.
“I hope it doesn’t start a trend.”
“If the trend reaches us, you and Brecht have my permission to sabotage all of it.”
Clae pulled out his pocket watch again. As he did, Laura realized they were headed in a different direction than the cable cars.
“Where are we going?”
“You don’t know?”
“Not really.”
“The tree.”
Ah, the tree. Of course.
7
ROOTS
The tree in question was an eastern maple, at least twenty feet tall. Its trunk and branches twisted and contorted into something entirely strange, with the resulting shape of a leafy mushroom. Today the leaves were dark green, but if it was anything like the decorative trees along the Tiber Circuit, it would turn a beautiful red in the fall. Clae liked to frequent this tree when he had time. Laura wasn’t entirely sure why, but he did. It was probably just another of his habits.
“You really like this tree,” Laura mused, when they reached it.
The tree was located on the outer edge of the Fifth Quarter, almost teetering over the side of the low wall. Beyond and below, the shacks and military barracks of the Sixth Quarter could be seen. On some occasions Laura had sat with her legs over the side (tempting fate—one slip and she could fall all the way down and kill herself), and watched as soldiers drilled or shooed noncitizens away from official buildings. Clae only had eyes for the tree. He walked up to it, stepped onto a particularly large root, and placed his hand on the trunk.
“It’s a good tree,” he replied, running fingers across the bark.
“Aren’t all trees good trees?”
“This one’s particularly good. Here, come closer.”
With a sigh Laura trudged over. She entered the tree’s shadow, and had to admit it provided nice shade from the heat. She loosened the bandana around her neck in case of a breeze, and craned her head to look up. The sun filtered through the leaves, blinding in spots and simply highlighting the green in others. As a slight wind sighed through, they swayed, and the light winked merrily.
“It’s pretty, but I don’t see why you like it so much.”
“I don’t see why you li
ke poster scraps either,” he retorted, and she flushed red.
“How did you know about—”
“When you’re stuffing old flyers into your pockets all the time, how wouldn’t I know?”
Here Laura thought she’d been sneaky about it. “I like the colors,” she grumbled. “The pictures are nice.”
“And the tree isn’t?” he challenged.
“It is,” Laura groaned, slumping against the tree and sliding down to the roots. She dragged Okane and the trunk down in the process. “It’s just … I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you’d like so much.”
He simply hummed, trailing back around to admire the other side of the tree.
* * *
Laura arrived home at five that evening. She turned in her bike, trudged up the stairs, entered the apartment, and flopped down on her bed without Morgan being any the wiser. She would’ve gone unnoticed for much longer if Cheryl hadn’t spotted her.
“Mom! Mom! Laura’s back!”
Laura could hear her voice in the kitchen, and it was one of those times she really hated it. That girl’s voice was so high-pitched sometimes it could hurt. Luckily she’d quieted down, more so the neighbors wouldn’t complain about it than for this apartment’s comfort. Footsteps alerted her to Morgan’s approach. Laura tipped her head to the side to look up at her. Morgan stood in the doorway, looking both worried and amused.
“Hello.” She smiled when she saw she had Laura’s attention. “How long have you been in here?”
“Five minutes maybe?”
Morgan gave a breathy laugh. “I didn’t hear you come in. Must’ve been the stove making too much noise.”
“Or maybe Cheryl,” Laura suggested, heaving herself into a sitting position.
“She’s just excited. One of her friends got a penny doll and now she wants one too.” Morgan was quiet for a moment. “Did everything go well today? You seem down.”
“I’m just tired. It was a long, boring day. We went to the Amuletory which, you know, I love. And then Clae dragged us out to look at his tree and we spent the rest of the time trying to talk to the new employee.” She wrinkled her nose and said, “I hope he quits,” under her breath.
City of Broken Magic Page 12
