“Just like home,” she said, grinning at Scorio. “Remember? Follow me down. It’s a good drop, so don’t fall. Last one through better do a good job of putting the cover back in place.”
“I’ll go last,” said Leonis.
Nissa nodded, took one last glance around the courtyard, then shimmied into the small hole till she was resting on her stomach. Scorio winced as he imagined her badly burnt skin and flesh rasping on the raw rock. She bit her cracked lower lip, found what she was looking for, then disappeared into the darkness altogether.
“You sure about this?” asked Jova softly.
“I know Nissa.” Scorio himself didn’t know if that meant he trusted her. He’d have to tell her about his adventures beyond the Final Door when they had a moment. “And this will get us off the streets for now.”
Jova nodded, inserted herself into the tiny hole, then disappeared.
One by one they followed suit till only Scorio and Leonis remained. The large man clapped Scorio on the shoulder and grinned. “At least things are exciting, hey? Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you. If I fit.”
“Thanks,” said Scorio. “I’ll wait and yank on your boots in case you have trouble.”
“A true friend,” grinned Leonis, and his steadfast cheer helped settle Scorio’s nerves. He sat, slid his legs into the hole, flipped onto his stomach, then kicked around till he felt a metal rung. He took a deep breath, a final look up at the sun-wire, then slid into the darkness altogether and left the streets of Bastion behind.
Chapter 4
They descended into the depths. The handholds were rusted and poorly fabricated. Iron, no doubt, and hammered into the raw rock wall. Scorio activated his dark vision and scanned the environs. A natural fault in the bedrock, a crack just wide to admit them one at a time.
The sound of their breathing echoed around him. Nobody spoke. Nobody wanted to miss a handhold and drop onto their friends.
It was nearly impossible to tell after a certain point how much distance they covered. Finally, Scorio heard a change in sound below; splashes as people stepped off onto level ground. He looked down, gauged the drop, and leaped.
And landed in ankle-deep water. A broad, shallow stream flowed past, bone-bitingly cold, only to disappear into a fissure. Upstream a tunnel had been widened along its course, just broad enough for them to march single file.
Nissa led the way. They walked in silence. There was no point in debating this course of action. They were committed now. It was strange not having to hold aloft a torch. Everyone present could pierce the darkness to some extent, and that clearly included Nissa.
Which meant she’d Ignited. Obviously, for she’d survived the flame attack as well. Where and when had she trained? She had to be at least an Emberling. What had she been doing all these months? Connecting with folk on the street, but whom had she found to teach her about her Heart? Could she have intuited those ancient lessons? Surely not.
The tunnel followed the stream, subtly climbing all the while, and finally opened into a natural cavern. Stalactites hung from the high ceiling, a few joining with the stalagmites below; it felt as if Nissa led them through a toothy maw.
“We’re almost there,” said Nissa, breaking the silence. “We’ve crossed under Ward 4. Just need to climb a bit to get to one of the safe houses.”
“Who built all this?” asked Lianshi, tone one of wonder.
“Oh, you know. Regular folks with time on their hands.”
At the back of the cavern, another set of iron rungs led up a chute that had clearly been enlarged with chisels, a mound of rock chips and stone scraps at the base. This time Scorio moved to follow Nissa first. Her skin had already begun to heal, the charred blackness fading away leaving her badly burned and scabbed, as if a month had passed instead of half a cycle.
Nissa leaped, grabbed the lowest rung, and began to climb.
Scorio followed easily. “Nissa.”
She kept climbing. “Hmm?”
“How’d you get involved with all this?”
“Later.”
Scorio bit back his response. They climbed for perhaps half the time they’d descended. The chute ended in a heavy wooden trapdoor. Nissa knocked a complex code and Scorio heard a great metal bar being dragged back. The trapdoor rose up and over, revealing steady yellow lanternlight and two figures staring down in wary curiosity.
Everybody climbed out into a broad, low-ceilinged chamber. They were still deep underground; something about the ponderous, rough-hewn ceiling and the intangible sense of weight in the air made Scorio certain of that.
But this chamber was being put to good use. Lanterns were affixed to the walls so that the air was filled with a cheery glow. A central table, rough and with uneven legs, bore a tattered map of Bastion, the Wards clearly demarcated, some parts refreshed with new ink. A host of pins and small models were placed about the streets. Five men and women stood around the table, their expressions ranging from merely suspicious to outright truculent.
“Relax,” said Nissa, moving forward with confidence. “A little, at least. Yes, these are Great Souls, but their leader is an old friend of mine. Plus they just killed an Enforcer to protect us.”
Their leader was a hard-faced older woman. She was tall, rail thin, and her pale hair was yellowed like old ivory. She scrutinized Scorio, lips pursed. “Killed an Enforcer, you say.”
“That’s right. I met him under the Academy. He’s a Red Lister like me. Name’s Scorio. The same one who helped turn away Imogen the Woe.”
A broad-shouldered older man with a bristling mustache glowered. “And you trust him enough to bring him here? I’ve heard of him. He’s an Academy student. The Imperator himself vouchsafed his return.”
Scorio sensed the need to speak up. “Yes. He did. And for a few weeks, I thought my troubles were behind me. But Praximar didn’t want me there and did his best to get rid of me. You’d better believe the scales fell from my eyes pretty quickly. When I came first in the final Gauntlet run I chose to leave the Academy and not enter any House.”
The five strangers muttered and glanced at each other.
“Why?” asked the older woman.
“Because I don’t trust Praximar,” said Scorio with quiet certitude. “Nor do I trust anything that we’ve been taught. I don’t know what the truth is, but I know it’s not what was spoon-fed to us at the Academy.”
“Nor what we’ll be told by the Houses,” added Jova firmly.
Nissa turned to the five strangers. “See? He’s not one of them.”
“Nor are my friends,” said Scorio. “They all chose to leave with me. Our plan was to head out to the Rascor Plains and learn more about this world we’ve been reborn in. We’d hoped to join a minor House called Manticore. A friend said they could get us out. But when we saw the Enforcer murdering people in the street… well. Plans changed.”
“Abentha.” Nissa stared directly at the older woman. “I vouch for him.”
“Very well.” Abentha smoothed down her skirt testily. “Very well. And do you aim to help us in our revolt, Scorio? If you’re as committed to our cause as Nissa, it could make a real difference in our fight.”
Scorio’s mind blanked. “I, ah—I hadn’t intended to, exactly.”
Abentha raised an eyebrow. “No? Then why did you come here?”
“To get off the streets, mostly. But…” He trailed off, trying to put his inclination into words, and realized he was rapidly losing what goodwill they’d just earned.
Naomi spoke for him. “To learn more about what you all intend, and how you intend to pull it off. I was born in Bastion, same as you all. My father was a high-ranking official in House Kraken. I know how this world works, the streets, the Houses, our people. And as far as I can tell? You all are courting a hundred more massacres like the one we just saw.”
A third figure, a wiry younger man with glossy black hair, snorted. “Yet you wear Academy robes. What a delicious conflict of interest. And how typical of Great Souls. You march in here like you own the place and demand instant obedience. Do you really think we’ll reveal our plans just because you asked nicely?”