by K. Gorman
She looked tired. She looked furious.
The snow crunched under her feet. When she closed the door, the sound of sizzling bacon was cut off.
The alleyway was quiet, but it had that cold, clean smell that she associated with snow. Down below, someone had left the lid open on one of the dumpsters. She shifted snow from the railing and watched it fall in. The bags inside already had a thin dusting.
Snowflakes fell on her hair.
She closed her eyes, allowing the cold to prick her skin. She didn’t feel it much anymore. Not really. Her Element saw to that. Soon, the snow in her hair would melt. But, for now, it felt nice. Peaceful. She leaned against the railing, bowed her head, and relaxed. After a few seconds, the same cool feeling seeped through her hoodie and into her back.
The glass door slid open. Dad poked his head out.
“You okay?”
She opened her eyes. The alleyway’s sole light—a caged-in bulb inside a dirty plastic container—left large pools of shadows around the area, but it lit up the snowflakes as they fell. It was dizzying, watching them from this angle.
“Yeah.”
Clothing rustled behind her. The door wedged open wider. Dad joined her on the railing, already tensed up against the chill.
“You look like a snow-person,” he observed.
“I know.” She looked over at him, shifting the angle of her hood. Snow fell from her hair. “It feels nice.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
She pursed her lips. They’d been over this. “I don’t get cold anymore. The Fire Element takes care of that. I can sleep in the snow naked, if I wanted to.”
“Please don’t.”
She grinned, then looked back over the lip of the railing. Some of the snow stuck to the bricks, dusting them like a coating of frozen powdered sugar. A breeze moved up the alley, shifting the current. She watched as the flakes swirled and eddied in the air.
She repeated his question from earlier. “You okay?”
He shrugged. When he spoke, his breath came out in a cloud of vapor. “I’m improving. Finished a job today.”
“Cool.”
“It’ll cover rent. God, it’s cold out here. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yep.”
“Mages don’t get sick? Pneumonia?”
“Dunno.”
“Well, I don’t want you getting sick. You look tired. You were training today, right?” A pause. “Elemental training?”
“Yes.”
“How’d that go?”
“I lit a bunch of candles on fire and snuffed them out.”
“And it worked?”
“Yep.”
“Cool.” He shivered. His cheeks had turned red. The skin on his bare arms was following. He brushed a snowflake from his bony wrist. “Can you come inside? I’m freezing.”
“Okay.”
Five minutes later, the bacon was done, and Mieshka had opened the salad kit. They ate at the breakfast table, watching images of Terremain’s war repeat on the news program. The newsfeed looked pretty grim.
“Terremain’s been through worse,” her dad assured her. He paused, spearing a leaf of salad as he watched a tank roll by on the television. “They’ve got the army there. And a Mage. They’ll be fine.”
Watching the images roll by on the television set, Mieshka wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 8
Ryarne’s library had a steel-and-glass extension that formed a steep, sheer roof over the courtyard, like a giant, five-story lean-to made of seven-foot beams and thick, weather-sealed glass. Gray sky crawled beyond the ceiling, barely visible in the snowfall.
Robin sat well inside the courtyard, away from the dusting of snow that floated in from the entrances. A windbreak blocked a good part of the chill, but Ryarnese winters had never been known for their warmth. Cold pressed through the seams of her winter coat.
Her eyes rested on the face of the square’s old, ornate clock. Its hands pointed at ten and two.
Meese was late.
That was fine. She understood. Meese had a lot on her plate.
Besides, she was enjoying her newfound freedom.
The ‘day off’ had taken some negotiating on her part, and she hadn’t slept much in the last few days. Math had taken longer than she’d expected to finish, but she’d managed to find some homework that she had done during term. It had made her case for getting a day off.
It felt nice, in a way. Sure, it had been painfully awful actually doing the work, but right now? It felt good to have it done.
And now? Math could kiss her ass ’til next term.
She sipped her coffee. The paper cup felt warm in her hand. Steam poured from the top, rising into the air in fast, violent curls.
The coffee was another rebellion. Mom didn’t abide by her drinking it—something about it stunting her growth. That alone made the drink taste sweeter.
As she cradled her prize in hand, a familiar orange head bobbed out of the subway tunnel. Robin waved her over.
Then, she got a good look at her friend’s face.
“Holy shit. You look worse than I do!”
Heavy lines traced down from Meese’s eyes, deep, dark bags digging into her cheeks. The irises were red around the edges, with bloodshot veins shooting through the whites.
Robin held out her coffee. “Here. You need it.”
Meese shook her head. Her hair fell straight down as if it had been ironed, the vibrant orange contrasting with the black of her hoodie.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just had a bad time sleeping, is all.”
“Yeah? Wanna talk about it?”
Meese shook her head again, adjusting the strap of her backpack. Her head turned, gaze wandering around the square. “We going?”
Well, good morning to you, too. I’m fine, how are you? It’s only been three weeks.
Robin let it pass. She stifled a yawn and grabbed her own pack. When she put it on, she felt the gun inside shift against the small of her back. There was little else in there. “Sure. Where to?”
Roger was in the Underground. She knew that much. But, how to get there?
They weren’t near any of the entrances she knew of.
Meese walked away—not toward the subway tunnel as Robin had expected, but toward the outdoor sidewalk. Snow fell again. A chill wind breathed in through the entrance, pressing into Robin’s skin.
She made a face. “Is there no pedway?”
Christ. When had she become such a wuss? It’s not like she’d never been through a Ryarnese winter before.
Meese shook her head, not bothering to turn around.
Robin made another face, pulled her winter beanie further over her ears, and followed her.
She jogged to catch up. “So… how you been?”
“Busy.”
“You sure you don’t want the coffee?”
Meese glanced over at the cup. In the light, her brown eyes appeared even darker than normal.
Robin held out the coffee. Flakes of snow collected on its lid.
“Maybe a little,” Meese said.
Robin watched her face as she sipped. “You look exhausted. Really. We can do this another day, you know.”
“Nah. I’m playing hooky right now. I should be in the office, practicing.”
“You started Elemental training?”
Robin did a double-take, rechecking Meese. For the first time, she noticed that the Fire Elemental wore no winter clothing—just a light hoodie and a baseball cap that looked more fashionable than warm.
Must be nice.
“How is it? When did you start?”
Meese flicked a piece of hair over her shoulder. Snow collected in lumps and dusted the front of her jacket. “Yesterday. It’s kind of boring. Just messing around with candles.”
“Pssh, you’re lighting candles with your brain. That’s totally cool.”
“I guess.”
“Really. It is. Are they big candles?”
“Tea lights.”
Meese frowned, holding the cup up. “What in Hell’s name have you put in this coffee?”
Robin grinned. “Good, isn’t it? Hazelnut flavor pack. The shop had a shaker at the coffee bar. I went kinda crazy.”
“It’s good,” Meese agreed.
“It’s so good.”
They paused at a street corner. A dirty mix of slush and sand piled up against the curb. Headlights lit up the snow as it fell, tires kicking more and more grime around. The temperature had dropped. Her breath came out in a cloud. They waited for the walk sign.
“It’s the taste of freedom, you know,” Robin said.
Meese glanced over at her. “Freedom?”
Robin took the cup back, taking a swig. It was almost empty. “The coffee. My mom’s a nurse. Kind of a health nut. She doesn’t let it into the house. No coffee, no soda, no candy.”
“Really?”
“Really. I had to smuggle the energy drinks in. So glad she doesn’t clean my room anymore. I can hide stuff.”
“You should sleep over. My dad can’t survive without sugar in the house.”
“Cool.”
They picked their way across the street when the light changed, bowing their heads against the snow. Robin felt it collect on her beanie, in her hood, in her hair. Her face was numb. She should have brought a scarf.
Meese led her into one of the downtown office buildings. “It’s just over here.”
It was one of those interconnected buildings—part business, part really expensive mall. The floor was polished, a mosaic of large, marble-colored pieces. They passed displays of jewelry and dresses as they walked. A small group of office workers gathered in front of the elevators, their business-casual clothes giving them away.
Meese bypassed them, heading instead for the stairwell. The door squeaked when it opened. Robin tossed her empty cup in the trash as she passed. When she followed, the polished veneer of the business class shifted into an unpainted shaft made from stark concrete and cinder-blocks.
It was like she’d gone behind the scenes.
Meese’s footsteps echoed as she headed down. An orange, evenly painted line ran along the walls, with the floor numbers stenciled in white.
“You think they ran out of money?”
“What? The government?”
“Whoever built this place. Why have such ugly stairs in such a pretty building?” Robin peeked up through the middle. The railing folded back on itself as the stairway ascended. She lost count of the flights.
“I dunno. Maybe it’s something to do with fire code?”
“Maybe.” Robin skipped some steps to catch up, her boots thumping on the concrete. “What does the orange mean?”
“Buildings like this have multiple staircases,” Meese explained, matter-of-fact. “They often skip floors. The colors help people keep track of them.”
“Really? That’s bizarre. How do you know that?”
“Some of the Underground buildings are like that. It’s confusing as hell.”
“Huh. Does this go all the way to the Underground?”
“Almost. It connects into a tunnel just under the subway. I think it was used for subway maintenance, but it’s not really used anymore. Except by us.”
It took them another five minutes to hit the bottom of the stairs. A couple coffee cups lay on the stained concrete, along with two blackened soda cups from the local movie theater. An electronic keypad blinked on the wall next to the doorframe.
“Do we need a key?” Robin asked.
Meese shouldered open the door. “They rewired it.”
Ah. Smart.
The next hallway led to another door with another keypad. Meese ignored this one, too. Another flight of stairs deposited them into the subway’s underground underbelly. The air smelled of exhaust. Black stains clung to the smooth concrete walls. A series of caged-in, green-tinged lights lit the way. The tunnel was gritty, narrow, and ugly. Industrial fans drowned out most of the noise.
Meese led the way. When she passed close to the lights, they made her skin look sick and sallow. Her hair turned an unnatural shade of yellow.
They didn’t speak. Just walked. A few minutes later, the tunnel shook. The distant screech of train wheels filled the void.
Meese paused at a door. Its sign read ‘CAUTION: HIGH VOLTAGE’ with a comforting diagram of a stick figure being electrocuted.
The door opened with another Meese shoulder.
As far as Robin could tell, it was not an electrical room. In fact, the only electrical components she saw in it were the light on the ceiling and the now familiar keypad beside another door. The industrial noise quieted as they forced their way past.
Another staircase. She glanced between the rails. A long staircase.
“These stairs are gonna suck on the way out,” she remarked.
“They do.” Meese had paused before the first step, glancing about. “You know, I’m kinda glad we came this way. This is only my second time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. How you doing?”
“Jonesing for more coffee. You?”
“About the same.” She started down, her sneakers slapping against the smooth concrete. Robin followed.
It wasn’t a pretty staircase. It had the same concrete-and-cinder-block construction as the first big one, but Robin could tell it wasn’t cleaned as much. Black stains dotted the floor, most of the paint had worn off on the railings, and the walls had a grimier look to them—as if their original off-white color had turned a more coffee-stain yellow.
The air smelled warm and close. Stale.
They went down a long way. Toward the end, a good dose of graffiti had added to the coffee-stain paint job. Cigarette butts littered the landings. Signs of life and loitering.
“Are we getting close?” Robin was breathless. Whether that was from the stairs or the excitement, she wasn’t sure.
“Yeah.” Meese peered over the railing. “A couple more flights should do it. It’s an upper section, so not too deep.”
From what Robin remembered, the Underground had several levels to it. Probably more than several. She supposed that was the neat thing about being an underground city… it was a matter of excavation, not construction. The Underground was a mess of tunnels, built through the bones of a buried city.
A draft of fresh, warm air slid past her cheek. The sound of their footsteps changed. Meese slowed as she came to the last landing. When Robin caught up, she shouldered open the door. This time, there was no keypad.
When they walked out, it was like they’d entered a museum.
They entered a lobby much like the business center complex they’d originally entered in Uptown, except this business center was at least seventy years old.
Everything dated it—the elevators, the shops, the offices. The concierge desk matched one she’d seen in one of her mom’s historical dramas as a kid—all woodwork and brushed aluminum. The linoleum floor was slick with dust. Dim light threaded through a set of doors by the front, barely touching the bottom of the lobby’s second floor.
The third and fourth floor walkways were lost in the gloom.
“This way.” Meese headed toward the front.
Its windows had been boarded up—smashed, perhaps?—and the glass had been removed from the turnstile. They walked right through it, stepping over its legs. Cracked and broken sidewalk replaced linoleum.
It was hard to believe this was all here. Most of Ryarne’s regular citizens had no idea that a whole other city existed underneath it. When she’d first heard about it, she’d thought it was a joke. Memories of her first visit seemed more like a dream than reality.
That’s one reason she’d kept the gun. It reminded her that it was real, that everything had happened.
Huge joists bolted into the wall above her, beams the size of bridge supports crossing the gap over the street to anchor into a building on the opposite side. Above, more beams crisscrossed the street, creating a support network—the Underground’s skeleton.
It was like the supports she’d seen in photos of mines, except on a much grander, more complicated scale.
No one wanted a cave-in.
Meese walked down the street. Robin hurried to catch up.
“This part’s quieter than the last part I was in,” she said.
Buildings rose up on either side—mostly stone faces. Brick and granite and sandstone. The only lights came from the streetlights that dangled down from the rafters. Shadows lay thick in the corners.
“Yeah? We’re a couple blocks away from the Core. You’ll see more soon.” Mieshka checked her phone. “Roger should be there, somewhere.”
Robin swallowed. Roger kind of unnerved her—like an assassin. “Do you think he’ll be mad that I’m late?”
“I told him you were grounded.”
“Oh. Did you? That’s embarrassing. Was he mad?”
“Hard to tell with him.”
“You’re an encouragement.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“If I’m not fine, will you burn him for me?”
“Sure. He’d kick my ass, though.” Meese cut down an alley, dodging around a parked bicycle.
Bright graffiti rose from the brickwork, depicting a leaping tiger. Its hindquarters were lost in the darkness of the alley. Robin picked her way through, keeping a hand on the wall for support.
Eventually, they came to another street. This one looked familiar.
“I remember that café. Chris took us there.”
It occupied an old storefront, the lower half of its windows curtained with lace. Three tables sat on the sidewalk outside. Inside, two customers milled in front of a glass case full of pastries. The smell of baked bread hung in the air.
The place had good tea, she remembered.
“Have you seen him lately?” Robin asked.
“No. I think he’s avoiding me.”
“Why?”
“Dunno.”
Meese’s phone chirped as they turned up the street.
“You get reception down here?” Robin asked.
“There’s a separate network. A series of Wi-Fi terminals.”
The shop lights cast a healthier glow on Meese’s skin. Maybe it was the walk—or the hazelnut coffee—but she didn’t seem so tired anymore. The messenger app lit up on her screen. She sent off a quick message and put the phone away.
