City of Broken Magic

by Mirah Bolender

  Laura hadn’t remembered. Her father worked underground in Amicae’s interior or satellite towns, mining for coal and expensive rock; her mother tended the farmland outside Amicae. Both worked long shifts, but always made sure their breaks lined up with each other’s. A perfect opportunity for family bonding, one would think, but it wasn’t. They were still stuck somewhere in the honeymoon stages of romance and had eyes only for each other. Laura had always felt like a mistaken by-product of their marriage more than a thought-out decision; obligation for the situation more than family.

  “I won’t be here this weekend.”

  Morgan cracked an egg a little too hard and clicked her tongue as both yolk and whites slipped into the bowl. “What do you mean? Where will you be instead?”

  “A business trip.” Laura pushed herself away from the counter and toward the front hallway and its closet to put away her coat.

  “I didn’t know you had those. Where will it be? I hear the First Quarter has some luxurious lodgings.”

  Laura opened the closet door. “It’s in Puer.”

  All the sound in the kitchen paused. “But that’s a whole different city.”

  “I know.”

  “Why would you be in a different city?”

  “Meeting with other Sweepers.” Laura shrugged. “They exist.”

  There was a mirror on the inside of the closet door; she caught her reflection as she hung up her coat and paused to look at it. She looked different. Her face wasn’t so round, freckles dotted across her nose, her ashy blond hair in a tangle and her eyes altered in a way she couldn’t pinpoint. She looked older than she had even when she’d joined up as a Sweeper. But she knew that her parents wouldn’t notice any change if they looked at her. No, she thought, tracing a small scar on her forehead—an unfortunate reminder of one of her first infestations—they’d probably ask her how class was going, despite her having graduated years ago.

  When she turned back to the rest of the apartment, Morgan had looked away from her cooking.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? There are monsters out there.”

  “I’m traveling with a man who preys on them for a living. Trust me. I’ll be back, unharmed, before you can miss me.”

  “That’s hard to do. I miss you all the time.”

  “Blegh,” said Cheryl.

  Morgan’s lips pulled in a smile and she swooped down to hug her daughter, despite the indignant squeal. “And I miss you too, every day that you’re at school!”

  Laura rolled her eyes and went back to the kitchen to sit in front of the steamed apples. Cheryl escaped shortly, and thundered in to hide under the table. Morgan went back to her cooking but brandished a spoon at Laura.

  “It’s not like I can stop you, but let us know that you got there safely, all right? Give us a telephone call or something.”

  “That would cost a fortune,” Laura laughed. “How about a letter? It wouldn’t be fast, but it’s worth a try.”

  Cheryl peeked out, eyes wide in excitement. “Send me stamps!”

  “I can’t remember you ever wanting those before.”

  “It’s her newest interest,” said Morgan. “She might rival your collage someday.”

  “Then I’ll be sure to send some. And if you want, I’ll ask Clae about his mail. He gets letters from other Sweepers all the time, and it’s not like he can use those stamps again.”

  Cheryl looked as if Underyear had come early.

  “Will you be sending anything to the lovebirds?” said Morgan.

  Laura’s smile faded again. “No. It’s not like they’ll notice either way.”

  Morgan gave a sad hum, but didn’t deny it. “I’m sorry they’re like this.”

  “It’s not your fault. Besides, with this perfectly timed trip, I don’t have to deal with them at all.”

  “If they do start asking, I’ll cover for you,” said Morgan. “I have a long list of flaws with my sister, so if she tries nagging you about anything, I have more than enough blackmail to shut her mouth.”

  “But weren’t you going to nag Laura tonight?” said Cheryl.

  Laura was thrown off for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. “Those coworkers of yours, are they the ones from that last matchmaking scheme?”

  “No they are not! One of them may be an eligible bachelor, but I won’t throw him at you while you’re dealing with bigger issues. Just relax and enjoy our company-sponsored feast. Actually, start on those apples. By the time I’m done with this they’ll be cold.”

  Laura laughed as she and Cheryl each took one.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?” said Morgan, already turned back to the soufflé. “Cooking is my hobby.”

  18

  AIREDALE

  Three days later, November first, Laura stood in the cable car station of the Sixth Quarter. It was nearly 4:00 A.M. The sky above was strewn with bright stars, a faint ribbon of blue and purple winding through like a wake in muddy water. The chill in the air made Laura shiver and shrink further into her coat. Beside her, Clae popped up his collar.

  “It’s almost winter,” he observed. “They say it’ll be a cold one. Maybe it’ll even snow.”

  Laura muttered darkly, stuffing her hands into her pockets. He watched her, unimpressed, as the cable car retreated up the line. The policemen accompanying them averted their gazes.

  “What are you waiting for, then?” Clae asked, looking at them. “Take us to the train.”

  “Of course, sir,” the first replied. He had freckles all across his face, and his name tag read A. COLLINS. “If you’ll come this way.”

  The train station was relatively close to the cable car stop. There weren’t many shacks or military buildings nearby, just tracks, idling train cars, and the Union Depot rising like a behemoth over it all. They didn’t go to the depot, though. They detoured over more rails, to a set of cars all hooked up and ready to go. The steam engine loomed in front, more black against the dark sky. The shape showed it was a steamer, but the silver-rimmed wheels revealed amulet assistance; this would move much faster than the usual train.

  “This is the one,” Collins pointed out. “You can put your luggage in the storage cars. We’ve got you a compartment in the second passenger car.”

  Clae squinted at the cars. “Is that a sleeper?”

  “I’m afraid not. We had some trouble with the train system. The one you were supposed to be in still hasn’t left Gaudium, so we had to scramble.”

  “It was either get you in second class on this one or have you resort to hobo travel,” added the other policeman.

  “Hobo travel might be interesting,” said Laura.

  “They throw hobos off in the middle of the wilds,” said Clae.

  “Spoilsport.”

  “How’s the security on this one? Do we have the Rails Sweepers or the ERA troops?”

  Railway companies hired Sweepers and regular fighters to protect trains on their way through the wilds. ERA (Eastern Rail Alliance) was a group of fighters who focused on the more common obstacle: animals that ran out of the wilds to attack trains. Felin sometimes charged slow trains and smashed through the windows, so ERA troops were there to gun them down before passengers could be injured. ERA Sweepers cleared any infestations on the tracks.

  The policemen looked uncomfortable. “No. You were supposed to have a large ERA guard, but again, their train is in Gaudium.”

  “Then what’s our replacement?” Silence answered him, and he raised a disbelieving brow. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re sending more than half of your Sweeper department into the wilds without an escort?”

  “We tried to reallocate ERA workers from other details, but they’re refusing to help. It sounds like the company’s willing to fire anyone who sets foot out of line, so it doesn’t matter to them how important this is. We don’t have the leverage to make them do anything without the railway companies’ approval, and we can’t get those people to agree on anything.”

&nbs
p; “Lovely,” Clae sneered.

  “The train is scheduled to depart very soon.” Collins glanced at the depot’s giant clock. “I’d advise you get on now.”

  He knocked on the door of one of the cars, and the side rattled open. A light inside illuminated stacks of crates and bags, and a shabbily dressed man. The man leaned out and grumbled, “You took your time.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Collins.

  The shabby man rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “Let’s have it, then.”

  The police watched Clae suspiciously, like they thought he wouldn’t comply. He certainly didn’t look happy.

  “Mr. Sinclair, regulations state—”

  “I know the regulations, and they’re ridiculous.” Nonetheless he hefted up one of the bags he was carrying, enough so the man could catch hold of it, but didn’t let go. “You are going to take care of this like it’s worth more than your life. As far as I’m concerned, it is. If I find that this has been opened, damaged, lost, or changed in any way I will find you and make you wish you’d never been born.”

  “Scary,” the man deadpanned.

  Clae’s eyes narrowed, but he relinquished his grip. Laura watched this with a furrowed brow.

  “Come on, let’s get you seated so the train can go.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she grumbled. “It’s warmer on the train, right?”

  There were two passenger cars closer to the engine. The first looked a little fancier, so that was probably the first-class sleeping car Clae mentioned. The second wasn’t quite so elaborate. Up by the front of this second car, some steps led up onto a little railed-in balcony and door. Collins led them up and opened the door to bring them inside, into a narrow hallway with thin mauve carpeting. He walked halfway down the hall and slid open the door on his right.

  “Here’s your compartment. An attendant will be checking in on you, and breakfast should be brought in around six thirty. Other meals will also be provided. If everything goes smoothly, you should arrive in Puer somewhere a little after midnight.”

  “Are we expecting bumps?” asked Laura, walking up beside him.

  “You always should,” Clae muttered darkly.

  “Do you need anything else?” asked Collins, ignoring Clae’s pessimism.

  “Go tell the conductor to get moving already. If we’re out of the depot we can’t be waiting for any more people.”

  “Of course. If you do end up needing anything, ask the attendant. Safe travels, sir.”

  The policemen inclined their heads before leaving. Laura sighed.

  “I suppose that’s it, then. We’re on the road.”

  “Not until this train gets moving, we’re not,” said Clae, sweeping into the compartment.

  It was small, enough to fit two benches facing each other with a decent amount of legroom between them. Four people could squeeze onto each of those benches. Shelves loomed overhead with thick netting to keep luggage in place, and the far wall was a window from waist height to four inches from the ceiling. The plain electric light on the ceiling made it hard to discern anything in the dark beyond the window. Even with that dark, Clae walked over and drew the curtain.

  “Sit there.” He gestured to the seat on his left. “It’s easier to go forward than backward. I don’t want you getting sick on me.”

  “How thoughtful.”

  They put their luggage in the racks above and Laura sat with a heavy sigh. The cushions of the bench were worn but not uncomfortable.

  “Hey Clae?”

  “What?” he grunted, fussing over the placement of his bag.

  “Why did you give away the Gin?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What?”

  “The police seem to think Gin can be transported the same way you transport regular goods, and they seem to think that baggage handlers are sufficient protection. Lies. Gin has been stolen in transit before today, even with ERA on the lookout. I’m not taking any chances here.”

  “If you didn’t give them the Gin, what did you give them?”

  “Eggs. That was our backup bag.” He patted the side of the luggage in the rack. “This one is Gin. The police would’ve had a fit if I tried withholding it, so I ‘confused’ the bags. We poor, overworked Sweepers can only be expected to remember so much.”

  “Ha! Nice.” Laura felt both relief and wariness. She was glad the Gin was nearby and safe, but … “What will they think if they open the other up and see Eggs?”

  “They aren’t supposed to peek in the first place. Part of some ridiculous treaty the cities signed, same one that states Gin be carried in the luggage car. It’s a load of bull.”

  Clae gravitated to the light switch. Laura had thought it was a simple switch, but instead he twisted it and the light dimmed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Turning it down so I can sleep.”

  “But it’s a train.”

  Trains were new. Trains were exciting. Laura didn’t want to miss anything.

  “Trains are to sit and sleep in,” Clae grouched. “Should’ve been on the sleeper car.”

  “But we can see the wilds from here!” Laura gestured at the window.

  “Not at this hour.” He pulled something down from the rack and tossed it at her. She caught it before realizing it was a blanket. “We have a long way to go and I’m not getting to Puer without sleep.”

  The light was just barely on now. He sat down opposite her, wrapping a blanket of his own over his coat as he closed his eyes. Laura scowled, but it wasn’t bright enough for him to see it even if his eyes were open. She scooted closer to the window and pushed the curtain to peer out. She could make out the faint shapes of other cars on nearby tracks. There were winking lights and the faint glow of the depot, but other than that, not much.

  She kept looking until a whistle shattered the quiet. She jumped and almost smacked her head on the glass. There was a shudder and a jolt, a screech, and she realized they were moving. It took a while but the train gained speed, the lights outside going faster and faster past them. The dull, rattling roar stayed with them as the wheels moved, and Laura waited with bated breath for them to reach the wall.

  There weren’t many openings in the main wall of Amicae, and what few existed were usually barred shut. Farmland might surround the city, but beyond that stretched the wilds and their monsters; beyond that, more cities. Cities like Rex could be worse than the monsters. Thus the wall, the doors, and the military standing by, alert for any sign of assault. Laura had never seen the doors but her mind conjured up the doors of a castle, grand and ominous and beautiful.

  She didn’t see them.

  The doors must’ve been open, because the train entered a tunnel. All light outside was eclipsed, the noise of the train amplified. It lasted ten seconds before abruptly returning to normal. There was no light now, but they had to be out of the doorway.

  Laura couldn’t see anything no matter how long she stared. She fell asleep at some point. She wasn’t sure when or how but she came around, coherent enough to know that leaning her face against the wall was really uncomfortable. She slid down to lie on the bench, pulled the blanket tighter, and nodded off again.

  The next time she woke up, it was to the sound of knocking. She blinked her eyes open and looked at Clae, expecting him to answer it, but he was so far gone he was actually snoring. There came another knock and a muffled voice.

  “Pardon me, but I have your breakfast.”

  The mere mention made her stomach growl. She glanced at the window, still dark, and forced herself up to get the door. On the other side was a thin-faced man dressed in a red and gold uniform. He smiled nervously.

  “Good morning, miss. Am I correct in thinking there are two people in this compartment?”

  “That’s right.” Laura rubbed her face to wake herself up more. “He’s sleeping like a log, though.”

  “Wonderful. If I may?”

  Laura stepped back, and he wheeled in a metal cart covered in a w
hite cloth. He parked it between the benches and pulled off the lid, revealing silver plates full of food. The spread looked like the dishes served at the Sullivans’ house, much of the same recipes with a different flair.

  “Please enjoy your meal. I’ll return later to clean up.”

  The man smiled again and backed out, shutting the door behind him. Laura nudged Clae.

  “We have food. Wake up.” Clae didn’t stir, so she swatted his shoulder a little harder. “Hey. Come on, eat.”

  His eyes cracked open to glare at her, and she judged that good enough. She gestured grandly at the food and went back to her seat. She dug into the skillet closest to her.

  “This is really good,” she mumbled through a mouthful, impressed.

  “Professional chefs,” Clae growled.

  He took a piece of toast but otherwise tried to go back to sleep. Since he drifted off, Laura felt no remorse in picking at the best bits of his food as well. Twenty minutes later the attendant returned. He smiled at her yet again as he retrieved the cart and left. Door closed once more, Laura settled in to sleep.

  She woke a third time with light streaming through the curtains. When she saw it she jolted up and yanked the curtains open. Clae made a disgruntled noise but she didn’t notice.

  Outside the window the sun had risen and the sky was pale blue, not a cloud in sight. It was paler toward the horizon, but the land below wasn’t flat or covered in farm fields. The ground rose up, jagged and towering into the sky, completely covered in dense trees. Shadows marked the clumps and maybe individual plants, but the ground itself couldn’t be seen for the abundance of them. Smaller heights jutted up along the sides of the larger, casting more shadows and making it all the more breathtaking.

  “Are those mountains?” she whispered, awed.

  “Why are you so excited? You can see mountains from Amicae,” Clae grumbled.

  “But those are just little bumps in the distance. Look! There are little ones too! And look at all the trees!”

  “You said you didn’t like trees.”

  “I never said that, you’re just obsessed with your own tree.”