The inn keeper sighed, his fear was still present. “Alright, all I can tell you is that she was headed below. Can’t tell you what floor because I really just don’t know, it’s a secret even I don’t have. The people after her though, they would know. If they’ve caught up anyway.”
It was times like that when Smoke felt thankful for the abilities he’d been gifted. Being able to make people obey his commands or tell him the truth had been extremely helpful in his profession.
Smoke removed his hat and scratched his head, “Alright, that’ll have to do.”
The inn keeper audibly sighed in relief as Smoke approached the exit.
Smoke paced the market place up and down several times trying to clear his head. The fear of the Lang family had shaken the inn keeper to his core, which interested Smoke. He wanted to know the secret more than ever now. The only way he’d ever find out would be to track down Blue and ask her, if she were still alive.
The more he thought about Blue going below filled him with a sense of dread that he didn’t think he’d feel. The fact that people were after her made the feeling even worse. Who were they? Why would they want her? It was clear the Lang family didn’t care about her disappearance much farther than their public standing. His job was a farce, a farce that paid quite well. The digging in Smoke’s gut didn’t subside.
As he walked home the shops began to close. The noise from the market had been mildly successful at distracting him and keeping the depressing thoughts from entering his head; now that it was silent he was alone again with his thoughts. The lights began to dim as the shop keepers extinguished the candles and torches which kept their booths lit. All that remained were the dimming florescent bulbs that hung from the ceiling.
His thoughts turned to Constance. He had left her at his house while he asked around. That had been hours ago. He didn’t know what he’d find when he returned. Would she have gone with his stuff? Would she still be there waiting?
When he finally arrived back at his place he was delighted to see Constance nose deep in one of his books. As he entered she looked up at him and smiled, “You get what you were after?”
Smoke nodded, “Yeah, it was a bit of a pain in the ass and I had to do some things I’m not happy about, but I got some information.”
“Well,” she said as she closed the book, “that’s something at least.”
Her smile as she stood and walked towards him made him feel better. He didn’t know why; there had been no real emotion towards her other than a passing carnal attraction. Even then, it wasn’t something he spent a lot of time thinking about. He soon narrowed it down to the fact that she had been genuinely pleased to see him and she had a bit more of an optimistic outlook than he had.
“When do we leave?” she asked.
“I talked to the lift driver to take us down to the second level. He’s already made his trip down so we will have to wait until tomorrow. We’ve got some time to kill so we can do whatever you want to do for the next little bit.”
He saw her face light up at the prospect of doing what she wanted but then fade back into a straight face. “I don’t actually know,” she said in a flat tone. “I don’t know what there is to do. I don’t even know what’s on this floor that the others don’t have.”
Smoke thought for a moment, “I don’t really know what we could do either. I typically just read so I couldn’t say if there’s anything a woman would enjoy doing. The underground is not really that type of place I guess.”
“Didn’t think that one through did you,” she said with a sly smile.
“Nope, I sure didn’t,” Smoke said as his face flushed slightly.
“It’s alright,” she said as she turned back towards the table. “The gesture was nice. Though I could go for some food, you have anything here?”
Smoke shook his head, “Not unless you consider mulch liquor as food.”
They both laughed a little at the thought and agreed they should get something to eat. They found a small bistro serving what Smoke assumed to be synthetic meat with several darkplants swimming in a bowl of hot flavoured water. This was what the underground passed off as soup.
Smoke took a spoonful of the soup with a piece of darkplant and synthetic meat and ate it. The flavour didn’t hit him like the food had days before. He lamented for a quick moment at his new high standards and continued to eat.
He looked to Constance who was devouring the soup. She didn’t seem to be stopping for anything; either she found the soup delicious or she had been hungrier than he anticipated. The man behind the counter of the bistro, who Smoke knew to be the owner, grinned as he watched her. Smoke believed the owner hadn’t seen someone eat his cooking so quickly. “Is good?” he asked with a hopeful expression.
Constance looked up from her soup. She gave a quick look of embarrassment and smiled, “Yeah, it’s really good. I’d never had darkplant before; I didn’t think it’d be this good.”
The owner smiled deeply and asked if she would like another bowl on the house. Constance’s eyes lit up as she had to restrain herself from excitement. “Yes,” she said in a voice that was forcibly calm.
Smoke grinned as he watched the women gobble down the contents of the second bowl. He had finished his bowl roughly halfway through her second. They thanked the owner as Smoke paid for the two bowls.
“You don’t have to keep paying for me,” Constance said when they had been out of earshot of the bistro.
“To be honest I didn’t give it much thought,” Smoke said in a satisfied tone, the kind that only came after a hearty meal. “If you want to start paying for yourself you are more than welcome to.”
Constance laughed, “So long as you’re not doing it because you don’t think I have the skins. I have enough to get me by for a while, especially in the underground.”
Smoke logged that bit of information away in the back of his mind. It wasn’t something he needed to remember, but he would just I case. It was almost habit for him at this point.
“How far down do you think we’ll have to go?” Constance asked as they walked down the corridors of the first floor.
Smoke let out a short breath. “I don’t know,” he said vacantly. “I’m hoping not too far. I’m really hoping for the next floor only.”
“All hopes aside though?”
Smoke closed his eyes for a moment, “All the way down. All the way down to the ninth below.”
“Why do you think that?” She asked.
“This is a girl who wanted to get away from her family. She learned the family secret and chose to leave instead of dealing with it. All I know is she came this far alone and that someone is after her,” Smoke stopped to take a breath. “Plus, that’s just my luck.”
“At least you have a direction,” Constance said warily.
“All I know is downward,” Smoke said. “The intel I got down here today confirmed it. He didn’t tell me exactly where she was going but it was down. And before you ask if I’m sure he was being truthful I am an expert and deciphering lies from truths,” Constance didn’t need to know about his abilities.
“Really?” Constance asked as he watched an idea rush through her head. “Try it on me. Two out of three.”
Smoke smiled a half smile, “Alright, Want to put a wager on it as well?”
Constance snorted in amusement, “Yeah sure, why not. You get two out of the three statements right and I’ll do whatever you ask for the duration of my time down here.”
“And if I get two of them wrong, I will pay your way all through your time down here. Deal?”
“Deal,” Constance said shaking Smoke’s hand.
Shaking hands was an odd expression of deal making for Smoke; he knew it to be a common custom on the surface, but physical contact from a person you were making deals with typically meant dirty dealing or intent to get close enough to kill. He knew Constance wasn’t that type of girl so he obliged her surfacer ways. In the underground people would give a slight upward head tilt t
o seal a deal.
“Alright,” Constance said as she searched for a statement. “I am not originally from the surface,” she said trying not to give anything away.
Smoke watched her expression as she spoke. “True,” he said in a matter of fact tone.
“Yup, you’re right,” she said with a smile. “I ran away from home when I was a teenager.”
Smoke knew instantly it was. “True,” he said without skipping a beat.
“Wrong, it was a lie,” she said smugly. “My parents were from the first above. They went broke and had to move to the surface.”
“You’re a good liar,” he said with a grin.
“No,” she said softly. “You just spoke too fast, you didn’t’ think about it and you got one wrong. This is the winner takes all statement. Think before you speak.”
She wasn’t wrong. He had been overconfident and missed some of the lesser telltale signs. The fact that he wasn’t using his abilities gave her the slight advantage. Not that he really needed them to win. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
Constance thought for a moment. “I’ve got the perfect one,” she said with a devilish grin. “My real name is not really Constance.”
Smoke watched her face closely for any sign of lies or truths. He had seen mixed signals, the telltale eye movement of a lie but the steady breathing of a truth, the steady voice of a truth and the personal grooming of a lie in the shape of her hand playing with her hair. Pieces began to fall in place within his mind and a picture began to show itself.
“It’s a trick statement,” he said confidently. “Your real name is Constance, but it wasn’t your birth name, thus making your name both Constance, and not Constance.”
She looked confused, “You really are good. Well, a deal is a deal.”
Smoke grinned triumphantly, “Wonderful. You’re paying for breakfast tomorrow.”
The look of humoured shock that crossed Constance’s face amused Smoke further, though he chose to not comment or react to it. “Alright,” she said with a grin. “I could go for soup in the morning as well.”
5
Constance had kept her word when she said they’d be having soup for breakfast. The owner, who still stood behind his counter like a soldier on eternal sentry duty watched as Constance ate with delight. Smoke smiled internally as he slowly finished his bowl. The darkplants mixed with the synthetic meat tasted better than they had the day before, but still weren’t great by any means. He believed it would take some time before his taste buds reverted back to what they once were and forgot about the dish he’d had on the surface. He had forgone the mulch liquor in fear the whiskey he’d had on the second above had spoiled his drink for him as well.
Constance ate much slower this time, taking time to enjoy every bite and taste. Once she had finished her bowl she paid the owner and they left. “Is the food as good on the lower floors?” she asked in an obvious attempt to make conversation.
“I guess it depends on your taste,” Smoke said as he looked and walked forward. “Personally I don’t think so, but you seemed to enjoy the food here more than I did. I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”
Before leaving the house Smoke had been sure to collect as many supplies he believed they’d need. Food would be available to them wherever they went. It’s not like people were starving in the lower levels, not with everyone having the availability and ability to grow darkplants. New clothes were not a needed item either, though he’d be on the move for several days to a couple weeks, but there’d be places to wash himself as well as his clothes. He only grabbed the essentials. He knew what the lower levels had in store and he’d be prepared; nothing would hinder his progress.
They walked toward the lift driver for the first and second below. He was a stout man with dark skin and no hair. He grinned at Smoke as he approached. He gave Smoke a friendly nod.
Smoke said casually, “Are you good to take us to the lower floor?”
The driver smiled in a friendly manner, “I am.”
Smoke and Constance walked on top of the platform as the lift driver began to turn his crank. Smoke looked at the driver as he did his job. Speaking to him the day before he had learned he had been from the sixth floor. He was a former Nagara slave trader and now a lift driver doing his best to go straight and learning the common language as he went along. The Nagara had a specific slaver language that took a lot of time and effort to learn. It wasn’t really a proper language; it was more of a shattered form of Common.
People often became frustrated at the Nagara language as well as at the humour of the Naraga when people couldn’t understand them. Some Nagara knew the language of the upper levels, those were the people sent to make the deals. Those were the slavers a person had to be careful around. They’d mastered the art of lies and deceit; they’d learned the ways of the upper levels and knew how to speak to anyone looking for a slave.
Smoke decided the slave thoughts were not the best to be having at this time. They were nowhere close to the sixth floor or much less the seventh where people were kidnapped or stolen to become slaves.
Constance had slid down the wall of the lift and now lay on the floor with her eyes closed in a satisfied food sleep. He’d let her remain until they reached the bottom. Her chest moved up and down in a steady rhythm playing up her comfort and dreamless state.
He watched as the former slave trader turned the crank, his shirtless muscles gleaming with sweat in the dim light of the tunnel. He didn’t feel any level of envy or empathy for the man who was doing his best to do what he could to be an aid to society, though he couldn’t help but feel a little scorn for the fact that he was able to get such a job where he’d only have to do a little work every day and get everything else handed to him for free. It was not an easy life as a lift driver, but there were worse occupations out there.
His mind soon shifted to the lifts of the upper levels. The steam powered hydraulics could get people up and down all day and there would be no need for lift drivers anymore. If they could find a way to implement them into the underground, things could be much easier and people could potentially get what they’ve always needed, a way out. Provided they had the skins to survive.
In the ancient days the majority of the human race had gone underground to escape the Apocalypse War that had been going on for decades. After the war had ended people remained underground due to disfigurements or other afflictions that were deemed unsightly for the surface. People had only begun resurfacing once the ancient technologies had failed and crashed. This sent the populace into a feudal state where everything reverted back to an age of monarchs and hand held weapons.
After the age of feudalism ended an age of magic followed behind it ushering in the New Era. Those days were short lived, a few hundred years in length before the majority of the world’s magic had been used and humanity had to revert back to their old ways and reintegrate technology into their lives. Magic had become almost an unheard of commodity.
Things hadn’t got much better since. Revolving pistols existed again - that was a down side. Smoke placed his hand on the revolving pistol he’d grabbed before leaving his home for the second time in as many days. Six shots sat in wait to be shot while a dozen more sat in the inside pocket of his longcoat. He sighed at the fact that he would probably need it; for years it had sat on his desk unused and gathering dust. He never bothered to clean it before because it had been a reminder that the first floor was safe and he didn’t really need it.
It sat in its holster, clean and polished, waiting for the first shot in decades.
The lift’s platform sank smoothly to the soft ground of the second floor. The lights that hung from the ceiling were dimmed by a collection of dust nobody had ever bothered to clean off. As they came to a halt, Smoke shook Constance awake and they were off without even a goodbye to the lift driver.
Constance yawned and said, “That was a short trip.”
“You slept the whole way. Sleeping always ma
kes time shorter.”
“You seem grumpy,” she said after another yawn.
Smoke shook his head, “No, I’m just in thought.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”
Smoke nodded in agreement and continued forward. The second floor was another market place, this one shadier than the first below. Clerks shouted from their many booths offering weapons, narcotics and several other miscellaneous items to protect oneself or avoid their responsibilities. Smoke had always hated this floor. Bad memories came flooding back of his time when he used to supply for people like these. He didn’t want to break that story to Constance, at least not yet.
Smoke began to look around the crowd for the lift driver to the next lower floor. He didn’t think he’d need him, at least he hoped he wouldn’t, but it would be wise to keep his bases covered. If it happened Blue wasn’t on this floor he would need to be on the next lift downward.
“So where are we looking this time?” Constance asked.
“Local tavern. I’ll see if anyone had seen her and then we’ll get a drink.”
“You don’t think she’s here?”
Smoke continued to look forward while he spoke, “I’m hoping she is.”
They walked around through the crowd and out the other side of the town before coming across the lift driver. Smoke could hear Constance exhale sharply as she saw the man’s brutish size and height. Smoke approached the giant and said, “You gone down already?”
The lift driver looked down at Smoke; he was about two feet taller and had about a hundred pounds of muscle over Smoke. Smoke looked up at him and hoped he knew how to speak. “Been down already,” the lift driver said with a kind tone. “I’ll be going back-”
“First thing in the morning,” Smoke said before the man had a chance to reply.
The lift driver shook his head. “No sir, I’m going back down tonight. Six hours from now. Be here if you want to go down.”
The Engine What Runs the World Page 6