Meadowcity Page 16

  “I’m sorry I can’t go with you—but good luck,” she breathed by Sylvia’s ear.

  Sylvia withdrew and gave Flint’s aunt one last smile before they turned down the aisle to join the others leaving for the mine. They fell in behind an older couple walking down the aisle.

  Sylvia tugged on Flint’s sleeve and muttered to him through the commotion, “Ven and Ember should be leaving the mine. We need to find them.”

  Flint nodded, head down.

  “Let’s not get stuck in the mine though, alright?”

  Sylvia bobbed her head once, focusing her eyes on the couple in front of them. It was going to be a miracle if they spotted both Ven and Ember in the masses leaving and entering the mine. But what other hope did they have?

  They followed the older couple up the once gleaming stone stairs, now dusty from the thousands of steps they had seen in the past couple of weeks. As they passed back through the corridor leading out into the city, Sylvia could hear a coarse voice carrying loudly through the chatter of the crowd. She grabbed Flint’s sleeve again and edged her way over, wanting to know what the boisterous voice had to say.

  “Slavery!” it shouted, gathering panicked looks from the nearest faces.

  Sylvia edged into a gap, and saw a dusty black shock of hair through the throng, whom everyone seemed to be giving a wide berth.

  “Slavery and robbery!” the man shouted again, the lines in his face creasing in his anger. The man wasn’t much older than her father.

  Sylvia could see that one of the Scouts stationed by a tall column was searching for the owner of the voice through the crowd, his hand gripping a thick leash, at the end of which stood a menacing looking wolf, it’s sleek black fur brushed with white stone dust.

  Sylvia drew back from the angry man, not wanting to be associated with the troublemaker. As she did, the man yelled again: “Slaves! They’re making us all slaves!”

  Finally spotting the man, the Scout and the wolf beelined for him. The man was swiftly struck down by the Scout’s sheathed sword. The passersby froze, unable to move and unwanting to draw the attention of the wolf, but the animal seemed only interested in what his Scout told him to do.

  The wolf lunged when the Scout gave a terse command, wrapping his teeth around the man’s throat but not clamping down on his bite.

  Gasps and shrieks issued from the crowd, and Sylvia backed up, bumping into Flint, who grabbed her by the elbows and slunk back, trying to divorce themselves from the scene. People filled in around them as they heard the man still shouting, voice hoarse now. All around the corridor, whispers turned loud, and shouts echoed out from the Great Room, the throng unable to see why everyone had stopped moving.

  “That’s enough!” the Scout said, his authoritative growl easily cutting through the commotion.

  The crowd fell silent, eerily so. A woman next to Sylvia gasped, pointing.

  Sylvia ducked down to peer through a gap and saw another Scout holding up a glass globe, just like Sylvia’s light orbs, but it was causing a chill fear to slither through the crowd. The Scout’s short blonde hair stuck up at odd angles. He gazed around the room, fist high in the air daring any of them to defy his presence.

  The globe, which explained what the Scouts had in those bulging backpacks, looked just like one of her portable lamps, but it was sealed shut. Inside, what looked like clear liquid, and another tiny ball rolling around, filled with some dark substance.

  The woman beside Sylvia was frozen, her eyes filled with terror, like many of the people in the crowd. A child no older than Sonia whimpered from beside the woman, and the mother hushed her swiftly.

  Two more Scouts were forcing their way down the side of the corridor, the one in front held the leash of a massive mountain lion, slinking down the corridor and easily moving people out of its way with its sheer presence.

  Sylvia recognized the Scout in back from last night—the one with the missing finger. His scraggly beard practically grew into the fur lining the collar of his vest. The two Scouts and the lion approached the man on the ground, tears of pain silently rolling down his face to mingle with the thin tracks of blood now streaming from his throat. The wolf wasn’t biting, but his hold wasn’t gentle either.

  The Scout with the missing finger came forward and muttered to the wolf’s owner, who made it let go of the man’s throat with a whispered command.

  The man lunged back, massaging his throat, sitting hard on the ground. The three Scouts surrounded him, the fingerless one turning and shouting to the crowd, “Get a move on!”

  Everyone shifted at once. Sylvia tripped when someone bumped into her, and she grabbed Flint’s arm as they lunged into motion. She turned her head to see what was to become of the man on the ground, but the crowd pushed forward and she could do nothing but march her feet forward, and out into the sun.

  The air in the corridor was stale, and it was a relief to pass under the doorway and out onto the veranda. Sylvia took a lungful of the clean air, free from the smell of fear, but quickly noticed that the crowd was moving to the left, and not the right like she thought they would.

  The mine was to the right—south—past Flint’s villa, from what she figured from the guards last night. Why were they going north?

  The Riftcitizens trudged to the left across the veranda, heading for the stairs down. Sylvia met eyes with Flint, who looked panicked, but then she saw why they weren’t going back the way they came in.

  At the top of the other staircase a mass of people stood, held back by more Scouts, waiting. In one way, and out the other?, Sylvia thought, panicking to her very soul. They wouldn’t even pass Ven and Ember this way. How are we going to find them!

  Forced to the stairs, Sylvia began to descend, mind racing.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs far too quickly, and were funneling to walk two by two on the flat stone path that clung to the cliff. Sylvia instinctively grabbed Flint’s arm, so as not to lose him too. Her head began to hurt, her teeth clenching together painfully. How many hours had they already wasted? How much more time could they afford to lose?

  They walked on and Sylvia spotted another temporary bridge up ahead, anchored to the once beautiful plinth that adorned the end of the stone bridge. The sharp scent of freshly cut pine assailed her nose as they reached the bridge, but the steady traffic slowed as people crossed carefully in a single line, the fear obvious on their faces.

  Wind whipped up from the rift, and Sylvia’s stomach leapt into her throat. Crossing last night hadn’t been as bad—when she couldn’t see the bottom.

  The queue was moving up, and there were only two people in front of her and Flint. Then, Flint was next. He took a step forward, placing one foot on the wood, then the next. She heard him let out a shaky breath as he moved on, arms slightly away from his side as if for balance.

  Sylvia was next. She took a step forward onto the thick planks, forcing her eyes to focus on the wood, and only the wood, not on the chasm below. The wind coming up from the rift taunted her, but the weight of everyone on the bridge kept it steady. One foot after another, one breath after another, keeping her eyes on the planks.

  Finally they reached the other side, and Sylvia let out a deep breath, catching up with Flint and snagging his arm again. She didn’t care what it looked like—she wasn’t going to lose him too.

  This side of the city was cast in cold shadow. Sylvia had a selfish wish for her coat, safely tucked away back in the tunnel. They continued down the path south, passing by deserted villas as they got closer to the bridge they had crossed last night. The wind from the rift drew itself up and tousled Sylvia’s short hair, throwing it into her eyes. Shaking her head, she tried to tuck her hair behind her ear, failing, when the wind ripped it out again.

  They were on their way to the mine, but getting stuck there would be worthless. The crew from the mine was already back in the Hall.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Ven stepped off the bridge and went back in the direction of F
lint’s villa, but he could hear the two men following him at a distance. He thought of Sylvia with Flint, going off to find the Citizen’s Hall, and him, detoured. Of course, Sylvia had the map, but Ven had memorized it as much as he could.

  They hadn’t, however, factored in the mine, so he was going to have to try and find it with the two guards tailing him.

  He reached the top of the stairs and was again on the level of Flint’s villa. He couldn’t very well go inside. He continued on, passing the door that they’d left cracked open, just as they had found it. The thought of his bow just behind that stone door in the tunnel was tempting, though.

  He had to come up with a way to find Sylvia and Flint again. Separation wasn’t something they had discussed in their plan, and Ven cursed himself for their carelessness in planning.

  Flint wouldn’t be out of place, but the Skycity men were looking for him. What if he was taken? What would they do with Sylvia?

  To his right, the wind whipped out of the rift, bringing a heavy chill to the path. He kept reminding himself that he was on steady ground, and that the path carved into the cliff very sturdy. Glancing over the wall separating him from the chasm, he saw nothing but darkness.

  Stomach clenched, he focused back on the path. Wouldn’t be looking over there again.

  Up ahead, Ven saw the older man they had passed before descending a well-lit staircase. Ven hoped he was going to the mine, so he could follow. The men would find it curious if Ven didn’t know where it was.

  He could still hear them behind him, and he tilted his ear back to get a better idea of how far back they were. Ven reached the staircase and began to descend, spotting the old man along the lower path now. The bottom of the staircase narrowed to make room for the stairs leading down to the next level. Ven continued straight after the old man, but made note of the lower level.

  The dirty white stone of the path was getting increasingly dustier, and Ven noted plenty of boot prints crowding the path. He imagined the citizens being herded to the mine to do labor. Why did they need Riftcity’s stone so badly?

  Up ahead, he could see light pooling onto the path from a stone doorway. The old man was still walking though, so this couldn’t be the mine. Behind him, the men’s footsteps hadn’t yet reached the top of the stairs; Ven could still hear their boots grinding the grit on the path above.

  Ven made a quick decision and ducked into the bright door way, hoping the men weren’t really paying attention to him.

  Inside, stone pressed in from all sides of a small foyer. There were plenty of gritty tracks in here too, so maybe this room was also being used for labor.

  He hunched himself inside the doorway so the men couldn’t see him as they passed. Straining his ears, he heard their boots along the stone. Keep walking. Keep walking, Ven pleaded, frozen against the wall, heart racing.

  The men passed, silent but for their steps.

  Unmoving, he stood by the door debating whether or not he should hide out here in the foyer until the men passed, and back-track down the path outside. But the men might come back around, patrolling the path, and who knows what they would do if they found him breaking rules a second time.

  His choice was made for him as a Riftcity girl emerged from a room inside carrying a heavy crate, spotting him immediately. Her hair was covered in a cloth, and her clothes were caked in dust.

  “What are you standing there for?” she said, “Give me a hand with this, will you?”

  He reached out and took the crate from her, realizing immediately that it was filled with stone. He carried it to the end of the foyer where she had been headed, two other crates already sitting by the other side of the door.

  “So, what were you doing that you shouldn’t have?” she asked, following him to the entrance and peeking out the door for a moment.

  Ven considered it must be a common punishment if he was sent here in the middle of the night. Was this a detention workroom? She must have broken some rules too.

  “Accidentally walking in a group of three,” he grimaced.

  She chuckled. “That’s stupid, what’d you go and do that for?”

  A woman called from the room, “Hey, get back in here—what are you doing out there girl?”

  She groaned. Ven followed her into one of the rooms leading off the foyer, and he was surprised to recognize it as a school room. Many of the tables were covered in empty crates, with giant bins lining one wall, the rest of the tables pushed haphazardly into a corner. A cloud of dust lay thick in the air, and the girl brought up a scarf to cover her nose. There were two others in the room: the woman who yelled, holding a wide wooden hoop with metal mesh woven through it, and a boy about Ven’s age on the other side of the room, nailing a crate shut.

  “Oh,” the woman said, grabbing a metal scoop from a big bin and handing it to the girl. “Well, you can take over this part,” the woman told Ven, “You’ve got much stronger arms than me.”

  She held out the mesh hoop to Ven, and sat down on a crate, looking around and then opening her water canister. Her brown hair was streaked with stone dust, making her look much older than she appeared to be.

  Lamps lit the room, and there were no windows except for a line of square slits that might have angled towards the cliff face for air.

  Ven took a deep breath and looked at the hoop, and the girl who was scooping up crushed stone from the bin. He choked on the chalky air on the way out of his lungs though, and coughed through it.

  The older woman pulled a strip of cloth from her pocket.

  “Here,” she said, looking curiously at his hands as he took it. “Not been down to work in here yet have you?” she asked.

  “First time,” Ven said, tying the cloth to cover his nose and mouth. He looked down at the hoop, and the girl waved the scoop of stones asking if he was ready, and he nodded at her and held the hoop steady. So now he was stuck doing labor for punishment. He couldn’t help but think of how well their mission was going.

  She poured the crushed stones on the mesh, and as he shook the hoop, the smaller stones and powder passed through; but after a lot of shaking back and forth, a handful of bigger stones remained on top.

  The older woman pointed to another bin, and Ven dumped them in there.

  The girl dumped two scoops of stone onto the hoop next, and Ven worked his arms to shift it through the mesh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman stand suddenly from her crate, as the figure of a short woman with a fur vest slipped into the room. Ven’s stomach tightened as he concentrated on the mesh screen, trying not to pay the Skycity woman any attention.

  The older woman had retreated to the back of the room to help the boy nailing crates shut. The guard walked around the room once, passing by Ven and the girl and looking into the bins surreptitiously. Her face had angry lines as if she never smiled, and her hair was pulled back in a tight black bun.

  Ven was suddenly glad he hadn’t gone wandering out on the paths. He was safer in here. He might even be able to figure out what was going on, if these rule breakers wouldn’t mind telling him. He and the girl kept up their pace; scooping stones, sifting, and dumping the big pieces, all under the eye of the black-haired Skycity woman.

  After her stately survey around the room, she exited without a word, apparently finding everything in order. Ven let out a breath as he dumped the too large stones in the other bin.

  The girl rolled her eyes at the door and gave him some more stone, reaching up and scratching under the cloth covering her hair.

  “So what got you put in here?” Ven asked, voice low in case the Skycity woman was lingering outside the door.

  “Oh, nothing really,” she said. “There was this Scout being a real jerk in the mine, saying stuff about how the city’s theirs now; so I punched him.”

  Ven’s jaw dropped momentarily.

  “Ember’s a real firework,” the older woman said chuckling, holding down a crate lid for the boy to nail shut. The boy kept staring down at the crate, obviously not w
anting to partake in conversation.

  “Ember?” Ven stuttered, nearly dropping the screen. Quickly he balanced it to keep from dropping all of the stones in the bin.

  “Yeah?” the girl asked, squinting her eyes at him.

  “You’re Flint’s sister.”

  “Yeah.” She gave him another scoop. “So what.”

  The older woman in the corner was watching them.

  “Nothing.”

  He shook the screen vigorously to sift out the stone. For several long minutes, there was nothing but the sound of hammering and stone sliding over the mesh. Ven glanced in the corner of the room to see the woman and boy with their backs turned, now getting more wood from a stack.

  He whispered through the cloth covering his mouth, “He’s here. With me.”

  Ember’s eyes lit up between the cloths covering her nose and hair. She gave him another scoop after he dumped the big stones.

  “Where?” she asked as the stones dumped onto the screen.

  “The Hall now. I got detoured,” he said shortly.

  “Who are you?”

  “Ven. I’m from Meadowcity.”

  The scratching of the stone on the screen covered their whispers. Ven wasn’t sure if he could trust the woman or the boy.

  “Are they coming to help?”

  Ven’s stomach clenched. The look in her eyes beat at him. He shook his head.

  “They’re coming for us next.”

  She looked down at the bin, glancing at the woman out of the corner of her eyes.

  “He’s in the Hall? Why there?”

  “Looking for you.”

  She nodded.

  “When can we get out of here?” Ven asked, his arm muscles were beginning to strain from the constant shaking.

  “Sunrise. Shift changes.”

  The bin they were shaking the powdery stones into was getting full. Ember grabbed another scoop and handed it to Ven. The woman brought over two empty crates, and another scoop. Together the three of them transferred the pulverized stone into the crates, easier for transport.