Glass Sword
Page 54
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Cameron Cole, I remember, though the rest of her information escapes me at the moment. I don’t dare pull out Julian’s list to double-check, not with so many unfamiliar faces around. The less who know about the newbloods, the better. Their names are death sentences, and I have not forgotten Shade’s warning.
With any luck, we’ll have everything we need by nightfall, and be back to the Blackrun by breakfast, with three more newbloods in tow. Kilorn will grumble, angry at us for being gone so long, but that’s the least of my worries. In fact, I look forward to his flushed face and petulant whining. Despite the Guard and his newfound rage, the boy I grew up with still glimmers beneath, and he is just as comforting as Cal’s fire or my brother’s embrace.
Shade talks to fill the silence, joking with Crance and his followers. “This man’s the reason I got out of the Choke alive,” my brother explains, gesturing to Crance with his crutch. “Executioners couldn’t get me, but starvation almost did.”
“You stole a head of cabbage. I just let you eat it,” Crance replies with a shake of his head, but his flush betrays his pride.
Shade doesn’t let him off so easily. He pastes on a grin that could light the tunnels, but there’s no light in his eyes. “A smuggler with a heart of gold.”
I watch their back-and-forth with narrowed eyes and open ears, following the conversation like a game. One compliments the other, recalling their journey back from the Choke, eluding Security and the legions alike. And while they might have formed a friendship in those weeks, it doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Now, they’re just men sharing memories and forced smiles, each one trying to figure out exactly what the other wants. I do the same, coming to my own conclusions.
Crance is a glorified thief, a profession I know well enough. The best part about thieves is you can trust them—to do their worst. If our positions were reversed, and I was my old self escorting a fugitive into the Stilts, would I turn them over for a few tetrarchs? For a few weeks of food or electricity rations? I remember hard winters well enough, cold and hungry days that seemed to have no end. Sicknesses with easy cures, but no money to buy the medicine. Even the bitter ache of simple want, to take something beautiful or useful simply because. I have done horrible things in such moments, stealing from people as desperate as I was. To survive. To keep us all alive. It’s the justification I used back in the Stilts, when I took coins from families with starving children.
I don’t doubt that Crance would turn me over to Boss Egan if he could, because it’s what I would do. Sell me to Maven for an exorbitant price. But luckily, Crance is hopelessly outgunned. He knows it, so he must maintain his smile. For now.
The tunnel curves downward and the Undertrain tracks end suddenly, where the space grows too narrow for a train to pass through. It feels cooler the deeper we go, and the air presses in. I try not to think about the weight of the earth above us. Eventually, the walls become cracked and decrepit, and would probably collapse if not for the newly added supports. Naked wooden beams march into the darkness, each one holding up the tunnel ceiling, keeping us from being buried alive.
“Where do we surface?” Cal says aloud, directing his question at anyone who will answer. Distaste poisons every word. The deeper tunnels have him on edge, just like me.
“West side of Ocean Hill,” Farley replies, mentioning the royal residence in Harbor Bay. But Crance cuts her off with a shake of his head.
“Tunnel’s closed up,” he grumbles. “There’s new construction, king’s orders. Three days he’s been on the throne and he’s already a pain in my ass.”
From this close, I hear Cal’s teeth gnash together. A burst of anger brightens his fire, throwing a blaze of heat through the tunnel that the others pretend to ignore. King’s orders. Even when he isn’t trying, Maven thwarts our progress.
Cal glances at his feet, stoic. “Maven always hated the Hill.” His words echo strangely off the walls, surrounding us in his memories. “Too small for him. Too old.”
The shadows shift on the walls, distorting our figures. I see Maven in every twisted shape, in every pool of darkness. He told me once he was the shadow of the flame. Now I fear he’s becoming the shadow in my mind, worse than a hunter, worse than a ghost. At least I’m not alone in his hauntings. At least Cal feels him too.
“The Fish Market then.” Farley’s gruff bark brings me back to the mission at hand. “We’ll have to circle around, and we’ll need a distraction outside the Security Center, if you can manage.”
I glance back at the map, brain buzzing. From the looks of it, the Security Center is directly connected to Cal’s old palace, or at least is part of the same compound. And the Fish Market, I assume, is a good distance away. We’ll have to scramble just to get where we need to be, let alone slip inside. Judging by the scowl on Cal’s face, he’s not looking forward to it.
“Egan will oblige,” Crance says, nodding at Farley’s request. “He’ll help in any way he can. Not that you’ll need much, with the Rabbit on your side.”
Shade grimaces kindly, still annoyed by the nickname. “How familiar are you with the Reds of the Bay? Think a few names will ring a bell?”
I have to bite my lips shut to keep from hissing at my brother. The last thing I want to do is tell Crance who we’re looking for—especially because he’ll wonder why. But Shade glances at me, eyebrows raised, goading me into speaking the names aloud. Next to him, Crance does his best to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes gleam. He’s all too eager to hear what I have to say.
With any luck, we’ll have everything we need by nightfall, and be back to the Blackrun by breakfast, with three more newbloods in tow. Kilorn will grumble, angry at us for being gone so long, but that’s the least of my worries. In fact, I look forward to his flushed face and petulant whining. Despite the Guard and his newfound rage, the boy I grew up with still glimmers beneath, and he is just as comforting as Cal’s fire or my brother’s embrace.
Shade talks to fill the silence, joking with Crance and his followers. “This man’s the reason I got out of the Choke alive,” my brother explains, gesturing to Crance with his crutch. “Executioners couldn’t get me, but starvation almost did.”
“You stole a head of cabbage. I just let you eat it,” Crance replies with a shake of his head, but his flush betrays his pride.
Shade doesn’t let him off so easily. He pastes on a grin that could light the tunnels, but there’s no light in his eyes. “A smuggler with a heart of gold.”
I watch their back-and-forth with narrowed eyes and open ears, following the conversation like a game. One compliments the other, recalling their journey back from the Choke, eluding Security and the legions alike. And while they might have formed a friendship in those weeks, it doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Now, they’re just men sharing memories and forced smiles, each one trying to figure out exactly what the other wants. I do the same, coming to my own conclusions.
Crance is a glorified thief, a profession I know well enough. The best part about thieves is you can trust them—to do their worst. If our positions were reversed, and I was my old self escorting a fugitive into the Stilts, would I turn them over for a few tetrarchs? For a few weeks of food or electricity rations? I remember hard winters well enough, cold and hungry days that seemed to have no end. Sicknesses with easy cures, but no money to buy the medicine. Even the bitter ache of simple want, to take something beautiful or useful simply because. I have done horrible things in such moments, stealing from people as desperate as I was. To survive. To keep us all alive. It’s the justification I used back in the Stilts, when I took coins from families with starving children.
I don’t doubt that Crance would turn me over to Boss Egan if he could, because it’s what I would do. Sell me to Maven for an exorbitant price. But luckily, Crance is hopelessly outgunned. He knows it, so he must maintain his smile. For now.
The tunnel curves downward and the Undertrain tracks end suddenly, where the space grows too narrow for a train to pass through. It feels cooler the deeper we go, and the air presses in. I try not to think about the weight of the earth above us. Eventually, the walls become cracked and decrepit, and would probably collapse if not for the newly added supports. Naked wooden beams march into the darkness, each one holding up the tunnel ceiling, keeping us from being buried alive.
“Where do we surface?” Cal says aloud, directing his question at anyone who will answer. Distaste poisons every word. The deeper tunnels have him on edge, just like me.
“West side of Ocean Hill,” Farley replies, mentioning the royal residence in Harbor Bay. But Crance cuts her off with a shake of his head.
“Tunnel’s closed up,” he grumbles. “There’s new construction, king’s orders. Three days he’s been on the throne and he’s already a pain in my ass.”
From this close, I hear Cal’s teeth gnash together. A burst of anger brightens his fire, throwing a blaze of heat through the tunnel that the others pretend to ignore. King’s orders. Even when he isn’t trying, Maven thwarts our progress.
Cal glances at his feet, stoic. “Maven always hated the Hill.” His words echo strangely off the walls, surrounding us in his memories. “Too small for him. Too old.”
The shadows shift on the walls, distorting our figures. I see Maven in every twisted shape, in every pool of darkness. He told me once he was the shadow of the flame. Now I fear he’s becoming the shadow in my mind, worse than a hunter, worse than a ghost. At least I’m not alone in his hauntings. At least Cal feels him too.
“The Fish Market then.” Farley’s gruff bark brings me back to the mission at hand. “We’ll have to circle around, and we’ll need a distraction outside the Security Center, if you can manage.”
I glance back at the map, brain buzzing. From the looks of it, the Security Center is directly connected to Cal’s old palace, or at least is part of the same compound. And the Fish Market, I assume, is a good distance away. We’ll have to scramble just to get where we need to be, let alone slip inside. Judging by the scowl on Cal’s face, he’s not looking forward to it.
“Egan will oblige,” Crance says, nodding at Farley’s request. “He’ll help in any way he can. Not that you’ll need much, with the Rabbit on your side.”
Shade grimaces kindly, still annoyed by the nickname. “How familiar are you with the Reds of the Bay? Think a few names will ring a bell?”
I have to bite my lips shut to keep from hissing at my brother. The last thing I want to do is tell Crance who we’re looking for—especially because he’ll wonder why. But Shade glances at me, eyebrows raised, goading me into speaking the names aloud. Next to him, Crance does his best to keep his expression neutral, but his eyes gleam. He’s all too eager to hear what I have to say.
