The Underground

  Iron is another mystery. According to ancient histories, it was once used to achieve great things, and provided strength to many nations. But none have been able to figure out how, as the little iron that has been discovered in the ground seems mostly useless—heavy, brittle, prone to rust, and not much stronger than silver. Not to mention that it is so scarce that only a king could afford to buy a piece.

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Dri’Shal 13, 997—Night Season)

  The next night, I snuck out in much the same way, finding the door to the Palace Gardens after a bit of trial and error—careful, of course, not to run into the psychotic queen, Lieda—and found the black-haired princess waiting for me, dressed in a somewhat more practical fashion, with an apron over a long-sleeved dress and thin leather boots. She perked up as she saw me approach. “Podda! You actually came!”

  “Of course. I said I would.” I took a deep breath to still my nerves. “Now, where are we headed?”

  Mydia hesitated briefly, as though making a last-minute decision to tell me. “We are going to a meeting with the Underground.”

  It took me a second to process what she said. “What? And you’re taking me along? You’re just . . . telling me, a complete stranger? Do you know how much danger you just put yourself in?”

  “I . . . have already decided to trust you, Podda.”

  I laughed in disbelief. “Are you this way with everyone?”

  Mydia blushed again. “As I said, I don’t really . . . have anyone else that I ever talk to. No one except for my handmaidens, ever since my mother died. What are you going to do, turn me in to my father, the one who’s made the life of every orphan in this city a living hell? Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to be alone?”

  I almost said yes, but stopped myself in time. Truly, I didn’t. I had Kaen, as well as Phoebe and Mandrie until their kidnapping. “Sorry. I suppose I don’t quite,” I conceded. “It must be terrible.”

  She sucked in a breath, then seemed to change course. “Why would you even want to get a job here as a servant, when my father has treated children like you so awfully?”

  “I . . .” I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t very well just go right out and tell her what we had planned in coming to the Palace, or even mention my connection with Kaen—Roger; I had to remember that—but it was hard to leave her at a loss when her sympathy seemed so genuine. “Prin—Mydia . . . is it all right, if I, ah, withhold that information? I just . . . can’t tell you yet.”

  Mydia looked slightly hurt. “Well . . . why not?”

  “Look, it’s not like that. I’m—” I took a deep breath “—I am in grave danger here in the Palace. People I love are in danger as well. As an orphan, I’m not a legal citizen by your father’s standards, and so I . . . can’t say more. Is that all right?”

  Mydia considered this and then nodded. “All right. I understand. I’ll take you to the meeting anyway, though. Come on, we have to hurry.” She grabbed my arm and towed me out through the Palace Gardens down toward the city.

  We arrived at the building just as the Charioteer constellation was glowing its brightest in the sky. It was one of a few that appeared during the Night Season. The structure she brought me to was old and dilapidated, possibly one of the many abandoned warehouses in Nytaea, relics of the city’s glory days. Those were long gone, as was the life of this building. The air was chill, but not like it would be later on in the Sunless Cycle.

  Mydia took me inside—to my surprise, the broken door opened right up—and led me down multiple flights of steps. She had brought a lantern, fortunately, or else we would be in total darkness.

  We came to a door deep underground, probably at least two stories down, and Mydia unlocked it with a key and opened it up to allow me in. I stopped instead and placed a hand on her small shoulder. “Wait. Are you sure it’s wise to show me this place?”

  She turned to face me, frowning. “You keep asking questions like that. You really don’t want to meet any of my acquaintances in the Underground? To do something to help?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” I pointed out.

  “I . . .” she lowered her voice. “Acquaintances. I wouldn’t call them my friends. Just come on, you’ll see.”

  I relented, allowing her to show me inside. The room was fairly spacious but only dimly lit by a few lamps along the stone walls. The ceiling was low, and a sense of claustrophobia made me almost fearful of it crashing down on my head. In the center of the room stood a large, round table. Around it sat an odd assortment of people on chairs and stools.

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  I counted four men and one woman, not including Mydia and myself. The woman, I could tell, was of noble blood, even though she wore plain clothing and little to no makeup. Her white-blonde hair was tied up in a practical bun. I could recognize that posture, that regal composure, anywhere. Mydia introduced her as Gaela. The men ranged from fat to rail-thin, to tall, to . . . small and greasy-looking. Respectively, they were Big Bart, Skinny Sam, Tall Tom and Little Lester. Fighting to contain a laugh, I assumed that these must be aliases used only in the Underground.

  I, of course, was introduced to them by Mydia as her friend and guest, Podda. She pretended that I was only posing as a maid, which was more or less true anyway. I hadn’t thought much of my current clothing, but they all seemed to take it as the clever disguise of someone entirely different.

  “So,” said the noblewoman, Gaela. “You’re late again, Mydia. Your little friend is welcome here if you trust her, but punctuality is a virtue, nonetheless.”

  Mydia gave a prim curtsy. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience I have caused. I didn’t mean to be tardy.”

  “Ahem!” Big Bart broke in loudly. “Yes, well. That’s all well and good, but we still have actual things to discuss before the night is done. You came in at just the right time, my dears.”

  “Indeed,” said Skinny Sam in a nasally voice. “The last orphanage that was burned . . . and that fight between the mage soldiers and unknown rebels. What have you all to say?”

  A long string of opinions and conspiracy theories followed, some of which made sense while others did not. I, for my part, held my peace for obvious reasons. I noticed as the meeting went on that Mydia was right—these people were her allies, but not necessarily entirely upright. Most of the men leaned heavily toward an anar-chistic mindset, and Gaela, who was probably the most level-headed out of them all, was very quiet and mysterious, seeming to have an agenda of her own. She and Big Bart seemed to be the leaders here.

  At one point, however, when they were getting overly rowdy, Gaela had to quiet them all down. She raised her voice surprisingly high and shouted, “Silence! You’ll bring the city watch down on our heads! I won’t have that. Now, we must discuss the recent happenings in the city, preferably without shouting out baseless threats and other nonsense. The entire world is not our enemy.”

  “Pathetic,” I said with crossed arms after having enough of it. “You’re a bunch of children. Orphans are dying out there, and this is what the Underground is doing about it?” I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but it was hard to at this point.

  The room went quiet. Gaela just stared at me strangely, almost coldly. Big Bart, however, didn’t want anything to do with me. “Hmph. What’s this little rat here for again? Think you can order us around, can ya, little maid?” He got up from his seat and towered over me with his fat stomach thrust forward over the table.

  I clenched my hands at my sides and said nothing. Difficult though it was, I knew I had to hold myself back. I couldn't take out my frustration on them, and most certainly could not reveal myself for . . . whatever I was. That could only end unfavorably for all.

  Mydia saved me, however. “Bart, please! We can trust her.”

  The large man drew back and gave a great hmph!

  The meeting went on like this for upwards of an hour. I was dead tired by the end of it, hardly able to keep my eyes open and my mouth from yawning. Mydia finally led me out of the subterranean shelter, visibly displeased with how the discussion had gone.

  “Wild bunch,” I commented mildly, letting out a yawn. “That, uh . . . Big Bart, he’s a handful.”

  Mydia barked a laugh. “Yes. Well, I did say that they weren’t what I’d call friends. But Bart actually isn’t that bad. He doesn’t take well to newcomers. He’s more intelligent than he lets on, and he is very knowledgeable about the city and its inner workings. He has many economic ties to the industry here in Nytaea. But I still want to know who it was that the guards were after that day . . .”

  I glanced at her as we walked back toward the Palace. “Really? Your father didn’t mention anything?”

  She shook her head. “No. He was after someone in particular, or so I gathered, at least a certain type of person, and . . . Hespian brought back some prisoners that afternoon.”

  My heart rate sped up at those words. “Hespian?” As soon as the name came out of my mouth, I bit my lip, wishing I hadn’t reacted at all.

  Mydia did not seem to notice the change in my tone of voice. “Yes, he is the captain of the Mage Guard.”

  Captain of the Mage Guard. So, the big fish had indeed been after me. To think that the coward of a man who kidnapped my friends was the leader of Lord Kalceron’s forces. But I needed to know . . . “And who are these prisoners? Where did he take them?” I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice.

  “I don’t—I don’t really know. Top secret. I only got a brief glimpse of them. They looked to be a couple of street urchins like you, both girls—probably orphans. I don’t know their names, nor where Hespian has them imprisoned.”

  She didn’t expound further, so I didn’t say any more about it, seeing as that would be risky ground to tread upon. I did not want to connect myself to Mandrie and Phoebe in any way, even when speaking to Mydia, since I still couldn’t fully trust her. We soon arrived at the Palace and she led me inside through the garden gate.

  Inside, she turned to me, lowering her voice. “Will you be all right, going back at a late hour like this? Don’t get caught. Do you know your way?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I told her. “I know my way around pretty well now.”

  “Right, right . . .” As I turned to go, she stopped me once more. “Podda. Again, tomorrow night, maybe? Meet me here?”

  I stopped, hesitating. Was this going to be a nightly thing? “You mean, going to the . . . warehouse again?”

  “No, no. Just to talk, in the Palace Gardens. I want you to be my friend, remember?” She grinned, a playful twinkle in her eye. “Please?”

  “A-all right. I’ll think about it, Mydia.” She seemed satisfied with this, smiling as she scampered off to her rooms. My mind raced despite my fatigue as I made my way back to the maidservants’ quarters. Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed my leaving; they were all sound asleep. I dropped into bed next to Hamia, my bunkmate for the week, and fell right to sleep.