City of Burning Shadows (Apocrypha: The Dying World)

by Barbara J. Webb

Copper rolled her eyes. “I didn’t plan on shooting him. I just had the gun out so he knew I was serious.”

  Which was a lie. Or maybe, now she’d had a chance to calm down, Copper believed that. Either way, it wasn’t worth arguing about. “It doesn’t matter. Everyone’s fine.”

  Micah still looked uneasy but didn’t argue with me. “We should get out of the sun, at any rate. Let’s move this upstairs.”

  “Fine,” Copper said. “Might as well show them where we’re hiding. Not like that’s a secret anymore, since he saw you from the lift. And then next we can send engraved invitations to the Jansynians.” She gave me one more black look, then waved for us all to follow.

  From the rooftop, we crossed a rickety-looking plank bridge to another access ladder that ran up a girder. That terminated at a locked electrical box, but a rope web had been woven among the thick wires that led out from the box. Copper made it look easy, finding purchase on the rope with her overlong fingers and toes. Iris tugged on one of the ropes, then shifted to become a monkey and scrambled up behind Copper.

  “It’s more solid than it looks,” Micah assured me.

  Good thing I wasn’t afraid of heights. Even so, I didn’t look down as I climbed.

  From the top of the rope-ladder, we stepped onto a walkway that led to a part of the Web like I’d seen around the lift. Platforms and hanging tents spread around us to form a city that was almost solid.

  Above us, the Crescent offered shade from the punishing noon-day sun, but there was no escape—ever—from the withering desert heat. Even a couple hundred feet up, as I worked to catch my breath after the climb, I sucked in nothing but hot, dry air.

  I’d lost sight of Copper. She hadn’t waited. “I’m sorry.” Micah wasn’t at all winded. “She’s been on edge all morning. Even before this business with you and Desavris.”

  “Any particular reason?” I alternately flexed and squeezed my hands, trying to work out the stiffness the climb had put into them.

  “One of the kids who runs errands for us—he died this morning.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said automatically. “Was it the Jansynians?”

  Micah shook his head. “There wasn’t any sign of violence. He just collapsed while he was giving Copper a message. Although that raises its own issues—poison or sickness—serious problems if that’s what killed him.”

  I found the timing suspicious. On the same night we moved Spark into hiding, a kid working with Copper died. “No idea how it happened?”

  “She didn’t want to talk about it, and I can’t blame her.” He added, “I wouldn’t bring it up.” As though I were looking for more ways to agitate the woman who tried to kill me less than an hour ago.

  People called out to Micah as we passed through a maze of platforms and walkways. Most of them were human, and a surprising number were foreign. I saw skin both lighter and darker than my own, heard lilts and drawls and close-cropped consonants. I thought of university students, of tourists, of businesspeople—all the different ways people could have become trapped here when the intercontinental tubes shut down. Even assuming they had homes to go back to.

  Hard as it was for those of us who had been in the middle of it to accept, Miroc had been spared the worst of the post-Abandon violence. After the Favored Children had been assassinated—after the world saw the gods no longer protected their own—all the lost and frightened people had turned against the priests. Miroc, as one of the few places in the world that hadn’t been born around or led by one of the churches, had come through relatively unscathed. Sure, there had been riots and fires and—things I didn’t want to think about—but our city leaders were no strangers to violence and had kept it contained while it ran its course.

  I didn’t know for certain what happened elsewhere in the world. But I couldn’t imagine anything good. The mere fact that no one had ever come to our rescue, what did that say?

  But that was too huge a problem to contemplate. Even Miroc’s dwindling water supply and growing desperation were too overwhelming for me. Manageable problems like keeping Spark safely hidden and helping Seana find her saboteur—they were more than enough to keep me busy.

  Micah led me across and up and back and down and up again, until I had no idea which way was forward or back. I did know when we crossed into a different—what, neighborhood? Territory? Something had changed, no question.

  First of all, there was electricity. Cables ran all about, connecting tents and shacks in a complicated snare, with dormant lights hanging down throughout. All around, I saw people working. Children sat on the edges of platforms, their feet dangling into nothingness, wrapping wires around various hunks of metal. I saw a man with a soldering iron, bent over a circuit board on a table that was little more than three rough boards hammered together. Two women sweated at a forge that had been welded onto one of the cross-girders. Scattered in among them, above them, below them, more armed men and women that I had seen all together in a long time.

  “What is this, Copper’s army?”

  “Nothing so organized.” Micah waved to people as we passed, smiling back at the friendly greetings, his actor facade plastered on his face. “Copper and Spark—they’ve helped these people. Especially Copper. I swear, Ash, you’re not seeing her at her best.”

  In the center of it all, a large wooden dome with mismatched glass windows and an actual door. Micah took me inside to a cluttered mess of electrical and mechanical junk in various states of disassembly—or rebuild. It was hard to tell.

  Copper and Iris waited, glowering at each other. Micah still wore his fake smile. And I resigned myself to a long afternoon.

  #

  There weren’t any chairs in here, and the two cots in the corner were full of mechanical odds and ends. I sat on the floor, next to Iris, while Micah found a stable pile of boxes and Copper squatted on a heavy-looking engine block. “So now Spark is safe—”

  Copper cut me off. “Is she?”

  “Of course she is,” Iris snapped back. “We took care of that last night.”

  Under the Crescent’s shadow, only dim illumination made it through the windows, but Copper hadn’t turned on any of the electric lights. Even in the gloom, I could see her glowering at me. “I want to see her.”

  I tried to focus on the fact it was her sister in danger, on the insurmountable resources of the Jansynians, on Copper’s precarious position, and not on the fact she’d tried to kill me. “Right now, Iris and I are the only two people who know where Spark is being kept. You have to see how it doesn’t help her if we share that information with anyone.”

  “We talked about this.” Micah leaned forward, his voice soothing. “You’re just upset. And maybe that’s what they want.” He glanced up. Even if the ceiling blocked it, the Crescent still loomed over our heads. “If they do know Ash was working with us, they may have grabbed him just to prompt this sort of panic—to maybe give them another chance to follow you to Spark.”

  I continued where Micah left off. “It’s not my decision, anyway. I’d have to clear that with Amelia and I know she’s not going to jeopardize the safety of her client, no matter how much you want to see Spark. You hired us to do a job. Let us do it.”

  Copper considered, staring at me. I wished I could read her expression, decipher her alien face. “Very well,” she said, her voice soft. “Let’s move on. For now.”

  “Right.”

  But before I could frame the first of my questions, Micah jumped up and went over to a desk I hadn’t noticed, buried beneath bundles of canvas and wire. He rummaged around and pulled out a crumpled mass of paper.

  “Vogg and Copper put this together.” He spread the paper out on the floor. Iris and I both leaned in, straining to see in the inadequate light. Copper didn’t offer to turn any on for us. Petty.

  “It’s a map?” Iris asked. She traced her finger along lines and symbols without seeming to make any more sense of it than I could.

  “Oh yes.” Micah held it flat and grinned.


  I had no idea what I was looking at. Several thin sheets were stacked together so I could see different layers of drawings of tubes and lines and squares and arrows. I looked over at Iris who shrugged back at me.

  “Oh for Fyea’s sake.” Copper came down off her perch and squeezed in between us. “There,” she pointed at one of the squares. “That’s an access panel. Here,” she pulled up one of the sheets, traced along a curving tube, “a maintenance hallway. At this point,” she peeled back another sheet, pointed to another square marked with an arrow, “only one thickness of wall separates the hall from another corridor that’s past the security checkpoint.”

  Iris and I still didn’t get it. Copper slapped the paper. “Don’t you see? It’s the Crescent. It’s the way in.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  No Action without Reaction

  Micah did most of the talking. Copper still seemed hostile to the idea of sharing any of this with us. Micah was excited enough for both of them. “It’s something that’s never been done before. Imagine the story it will make.”

  “It’s not a bad plan,” Iris said thoughtfully, staring at the blueprints. “A small, tight group, well-armed and well-informed.”

  Encouraged, Micah went on. “Copper can build jammers to block their passive security. Then it’s just a matter of—”

  “No.”

  Both of them turned, looked at me like they’d forgotten I was there. “The Crescent’s security isn’t just a matter of sensors and checkpoints,” I said. “They’ve got layers of plans and redundancies created specifically so no one from the outside can predict them. The things Seana used to tell me about—and that was all before the world went to hell. You think, now they’re the only people left with real resources, their security isn’t going to be even tighter?

  “Plus, they’re all Jansynians up there. And we’re not. So the first time any of Copper’s people get spotted by anyone, it’s over. No one’s going to think for a second they belong.”

  “Copper knows what she’s doing,” Micah said, looking to her for help, but Copper just sat staring. Still sulking? Micah pushed on, but with less confidence. “We’ve got breakdowns and schematics—”

  “You may know the tech, but that doesn’t make you an expert on Jansynian security. None of us are. I’m the closest we’ve got, and I’m saying it isn’t possible.”

  Copper snorted. “Not an expert. Just someone who used to date a girl who liked to pillow-talk.”

  Micah spread his hands, a pleading gesture at Copper. “What’s wrong? Yesterday you were five kinds of excited about this.”

  Copper looked at me, her eyes narrowed. Suspicious. A clear answer.

  Micah folded the plans back up. “Maybe we should drop this. Until everyone’s calmed down.”

  “Maybe.” Copper stood, brushed off her knees. “For now, I’ve got a circuit board that needs rewiring and tools to forge.”

  I knew a dismissal when I heard one. I hadn’t gotten to ask any of Amelia’s questions, but Copper didn’t seem in a mood to answer. “We can talk again tomorrow.” After I’d helped Seana. After I’d earned a Jansynian favor. When I’d be able to prove it wasn’t so horrible that I was working with them.

  Micah, Iris, and I left Copper alone. We gathered at the edge of her platform. I leaned against the railing, took in the dizzying view. From here, there were enough shelters and platforms and walkways between us and the lift I couldn’t see any hint of it. I could almost pretend we were in our own world. “So what’s the next step?”

  “I should go fill Amelia in.” Iris climbed over the rail. “I’ll see you tonight.” She stepped over the edge, shifting as she fell until falcon-Iris snapped out her wings and sped back towards downtown.

  Micah watched with open admiration. “Wouldn’t that be a handy trick to know?”

  “No kidding.”

  “Look,” he said, “I don’t know what’s gotten into Copper. But she isn’t usually like this.”

  I could understand. “Her sister’s in danger. The Jansynians are scary. And it’s the end of the world. None of us are exactly at our best right now.”

  Micah laughed. He’d always been like that, quick to laugh, quick to find joy in things. I was amazed he could still be that man.

  And I realized that somewhere along the line, without even noticing, I’d stopped being mad at him.

  Micah moved up next to me, leaned onto the railing so that he rested on folded elbows. “Do you believe that?” he asked. “That it’s the end of the world?”

  “What else could it be? Since the Abandon—”

  He laughed again. “Oh, come on, Ash. Don’t tell me you’ve bought into that.”

  “Bought into what?” I might not be angry, but that laugh had been annoying. Like he knew something I didn’t. “What else would you call it?”

  He must have heard it in my voice, because he leaned in, bumped our shoulders together. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything. I was surprised, is all. One thing when all the news started talking about the Abandon. I get that. They needed some flashy word, some way to talk about the story. But you’re a priest. You really think the gods would just run off and leave us?”

  “They’re not here anymore.” I swept my hand out, the whole city before us. “People are dying. The whole world is dying. What else can we think?”

  “That there are reasons,” Micah said softly. “That the universe makes sense.”

  I shook my head, although I couldn’t have told you what I was denying. “How else would you explain it? What else would you call it?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered calmly. “That answer’s going to take wiser folk than me. But I don’t believe they’d just leave us here without warning or explanation. I don’t believe any of the Thirteen were that cruel.”

  I had nothing to say to that, nothing that wouldn’t be me lashing out at Micah who’d done nothing to deserve it. Maybe he had faith, but I couldn’t move past the evidence of the world before my eyes. If the gods weren’t here anymore, how could that be for any reason except they no longer wanted to be?

  We stood together in silence. If nothing else good came out of this business—if we couldn’t save Spark or Miroc or anyone, I was at least grateful to have found Micah again. For however long we had left, it was good to be with my friend.

  “I should go,” I finally said. If I was going to do serious magic tonight, I needed time to prepare. To remind myself what I was doing.

  “Come back tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll talk Copper around.”

  I had to be honest. “It’s still a bad plan. Breaking into the Crescent—it’ll be a disaster.”

  Micah put a hand on my shoulder, his voice both earnest and desperate. “Bring us something better. Find us a way out.”

  “I promise.”

  He nodded and let me go, even if he knew as well as I did it was a lie. The gods were gone now.

  We’d run out of miracles.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Storyteller and Dreamers

  No one with any sense went into the temple district anymore. The burned-out ruins had become home to the worst kinds of criminals. Desperate, angry, and independent—not the sort you want to run into in the dark.

  This wasn’t my first time sneaking into Kaifail’s lost territory, but that didn’t mean I felt confident as Iris and I slipped from shadow to shadow moving towards the city’s rotten core.

  Leftover light from the still-living parts of Miroc outlined the skeletal remains of the once magnificent complex. The buildings that made up Kaifail’s church had spread across four city blocks, with the two largest being the great theater in the front and the library in the back. We were here for the latter.

  Iris and I stopped across the street from the theater. We took one last look around, as though we’d be able to spot anyone lurking in the darkness behind us. At least no one would follow us once we made it onto church grounds.

  Iris waved me across the last open patch we had to cross b
efore the edge of the ruins. “Your house, you lead.” She hated this part as much as I did.

  Faking a boldness I didn’t feel, I stepped forward into the ruins.

  No matter how many times I’d been through it, I wasn’t prepared for the ward. What started with a buzzing in my spine spread through me as a fever chill. As I crossed an invisible boundary buried in the long-dead grass, the world spun around me.

  Behind me, I heard Iris gag. Her discomfort more than my own pushed me forward.

  As we picked our way through the charred and sooty mess that had been the narthex and visitor’s center, I struggled against the dizziness and nausea of the warding pattern. This was magic beyond my comprehension, and while I recognized how important it was to protect our space and our secrets, I hated that I was as vulnerable to it as any trespasser.

  The inner courtyard—desiccated and rocky, but still recognizable—marked the boundary of the outer ward. I made it there just in time to keep from losing the meager dinner I’d scrounged from the office fridge. As soon as Iris crossed out of the trouble zone, she dropped to her knees, gasping for air.

  I waited. It always hit her harder, but she would recover faster than I. The cost and benefit of being less-than-solid in a metaphysical sense. A shudder rippled through her, then she got to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  Dark Kaifail’s sanctum had been skeletonized by the fires, but it was more stable than it appeared. Decay and rot were siphoned off by more magic. Amazing the greatness desperation had driven us to. Before the Abandon, we were far too bickery to have ever worked together on magic of this scale. I picked my way through fallen timbers and scorched granite, trying not to leave tracks in the soot.

  At the staircase down, I took Iris’s hand. This was the last and most serious layer of protective magic. Nothing harmful or painful. A simple and powerful misdirection. To those who didn’t bear Kaifail’s mark, these stairs didn’t exist. She closed her eyes and let me drag her down. Her entire body was tense. Even though she’d been here before—even though she knew the stairs existed and led to very real rooms below—she had to fight against the evidence of her senses and a conviction that I was dragging her into the floor.