“You need an upgrade,” Heidi said, giving it a distasteful look. It was bulky, out of date.
Carson thumbed it on, then browsed to his photos. It loaded slowly, seemingly on the verge of just giving up.
Then it was open. He’d snapped a photograph of one of the drawings from his journal. Too complicated to trace, like the map, it pointed us to where we were going: the city, and nestled in its core at the bottom of a series of descending levels, like someone had pixelated a crater’s gradient, lay the old city, no longer inhabited but well preserved.
“This, err, way,” he said, and warily slotted himself into a gap in the foot traffic heading rightward—
He stopped. “Huh. That’s … weird.”
“What?” I asked.
A pair of Mirrish came from behind. “Hello there,” said one, followed by a low and jovial echo from his/her companion. They diverted around us.
“Sorry,” Carson said, and stepped toward the edge again.
“What’s weird?” Heidi prompted.
“Look.” He held the phone out so we could see. “I haven’t had reception since I got to London. I wanted to save money, so I switched off the data roaming because I figured I wouldn’t need it. But … I’m on my home network here.”
Heidi and I leaned closer. Sure enough, in the top left corner, the AT&T logo proudly greeted us.
I shared a nervous look with Heidi. Hand darting to my pocket, I retrieved my phone (a gift from Carson, actually, as I hadn’t brought one with me when I ran away) and lit the screen to see …
Signal.
“You too?” Heidi asked. She’d checked her phone too, and must have seen it in my face.
“Yep.”
“Call me,” she said.
I scrolled down to her name in the contacts (just Heidi, because how many other Heidis did I know that I’d need to stick Luo on the end there?
I dialed.
After a moment, Heidi’s phone buzzed.
She showed me and Carson the screen. Mira calling …
I hung up, stopping the buzz dead.
“What’s going on here?” Carson asked.
Heidi frowned. “Hmm. Let me just …” She tapped with quick, practiced thumbs. Number inputted, she pressed the button to connect the call, and then tapped the speaker icon.
A male tenor voice began speaking almost immediately.
“We’re sorry, but the customer you are trying to reach is on a different world. While we are researching a method of communicating between Mirrish and Earth, as well as other worlds, please enjoy complimentary access to our information networks and wireless Grapevine platform while you’re here on Mirrish as our guests. Please also feel free to ask anyone you meet for assistance, or dial zero. Thank you for your stay, humans, and sorry once again for the inconvenience.”
The line disconnected.
“Uh …”
“What’s Grapevine?” Carson asked.
Heidi tapped again. A moment later, she showed us her Facebook newsfeed. “Internet.”
“That’s crazy,” Carson breathed.
“Hm.” She scrutinized a post, then closed the browser and pocketed her phone again.
“The guy on the phone said we could just ask anyone for help,” Carson mused. He glanced down the street at a retreating pair of Mirrish’s backs. “Do you really think he meant anyone?”
“Seems an odd thing to say if you don’t mean it,” Heidi said.
“Wow. They’re super nice.”
“Eerily so,” I said, and smiled at the well-timed “Hello” delivered by another passing lizard.
We decided not to linger. Leading the way, Carson again found a reasonably-sized gap in the foot traffic to slot into, and we three made our way. Most of the Mirrish were going in this direction too, maybe a three-to-one split against the others passing. Each and every one said at least a “Hello,” but there were “How do you dos?” and even one particularly chatty fellow (or lady?) who paused to ask us if we were headed into the capital.
“Yes,” Carson said nervously. “I think. Um.” He cleared his throat. “It’s this way, isn’t it?”
“It is,” the Mirrish confirmed. “You know how to get there? Would you like an escort?”
“That’s, uh, okay. I’m going off this.” Carson showed his phone, and the photo he’d taken.
The Mirrish bowed forward to look more closely. “Ah, you’re looking for the old city, are you? Yes, that’s in the lower levels of the capital. You can’t miss it. And if you do, please ask anyone you meet.”
“We will,” Carson promised. He cleared his throat again. “Th-thanks.”
“Perfectly happy to assist,” said the lizard. “I hope you love it!” And off he went, lapsing again into silence.
Closer into the capital, the buildings built around the trees grew taller, wider. Here it seemed some of the forest’s mightiest had been felled, because the path broadened. The Mirrish carving of the forest had been targeted, though: more and more buildings were erected around trunks, holes open in the roofs so the trees could reach skyward, so I wondered if they had adopted a strategy of felling only a set number within each imaginary square they drew, preserving as many as possible.
I peered at the trees as we went. Up close, I realized the moss-like hairs did indeed cover the entire surface in place of bark. The bristles were much longer though, an inch and a half if not more. They ended with slightly bulbous tips, like the eyestalks of a snail.
Around a bend in the road, and all at once there was color. Flowers, everywhere, petals half the size of me and as thick as my arm. They could’ve been grown from the kaleidoscope of colors that danced inside portals—not Carson’s, I reminded myself—as every part of the spectrum was represented, often on the same flower. The capital’s core was absolutely rich with them.
The tree coverage was much less dense here, leaving great swaths of sky open to perfect blue. The remaining trees formed concentric circles, boulevards broken by patches of green and the flowers that these creatures’ clothes must have been fashioned from, climbing up the trunks, intermingling with ivy flowing earthward. Cut-throughs were etched here and there, and Mirrish lingered in them, or passed through—and talked! Actual conversation!
“Whoa,” Carson breathed.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” asked a passing Mirrish in bright blue petals. It was just higher-pitched enough that I was fairly sure this one was female. Maybe. “Have a pleasant stay, humans!”
“Do visit the old city, yes?” suggested another with a toothy smile.
I smiled nervously. Yes, we would. That was kind of the whole point of being here in the first place.
I wondered if the Mirrish would be so polite if they knew what we planned on doing when we visited.
There was a break in the passing lizards. Carson turned to us and said, “This way.” He diverted through one of the pathways etched between the trees. Heidi and I followed, her looking fairly nonplussed, my own concern beginning to mount just slightly.
The trees gave way to a Stonehenge-esque circle of pillars. Marbled white, they were perfectly shaped, edges hard and straight and precise. They reminded me of Greek architecture, like the pillars at the front of the Parthenon. These did not cling to a roof as such; rather they were topped with more polished marble. Like elaborate curlicues, they twisted and linked pillar to pillar.
A raised garden stood at the foot of each column, bricked off almost at waist height with more polished marble. Other flowers sprouted from these, in all sizes. Ferns jutted out from between clusters, and spindly bushes that exploded with white buds at the tip. Fragrant scents wafted in the air, giving off echoes of flowers back home—tulips, roses, daffodils. Yet there was something not quite right about all of them too. The result was an imperfect collection of smells I knew, layered in with yet more I didn’t.
Between these led more pathways, penetrating another layer. Chatter came through the gaps, intermingling with the Mirrish conversations around
us. Somewhere, a young one was laughing, its voice barely any higher than the adults’. It rose in pitch as the lizard raced past us, then descended and flattened like an ambulance’s wail.
Carson led us down one of the pathways. It terminated in steps, bringing us a level deeper into the monument.
The air was cooler here. Maybe only a degree or two, but I felt it, felt my skin seem to harden imperceptibly, the way it did when gooseflesh broke out. It was far too warm still for that—but if the warmth continued tapering off as we penetrated farther into the city, it wouldn’t take too long for my hairs to stand on end.
“They like their columns,” Heidi observed. Indeed, the pattern we’d just passed repeated itself, just slightly offset as to prevent us from seeing deeper.
“Old city is right in the center,” Carson said. “It gets steeper.” And on he led.
Polite greetings wafted toward us as we descended layer by layer into the Mirrish capital, closing in on the old city. I returned them politely, but my nervousness was beginning to ramp up. Carson surely felt it too. Of course, I wasn’t sure; his back was to me as he led, one hand clutched around his manbag to keep it close by his hip.
The foot traffic grew heavier as we closed in. The layers were tighter, each level a little narrower than the one before, the steps growing steeper and increasing in number. We were still greeted in a friendly manner, but there were others among the Mirrish too, distracting them from us; a cluster of orcs lumbered by in their typically ungainly fashion, grunting at each other what I assumed was an actual language rather than plain and simple noise. In one alley we spied a marachti, wearing a feathered headdress like a Native American. I expected Heidi to flinch away when she spotted it, but she did not, and I remembered: she didn’t know she’d died at the hands of one of these creatures.
“Sorry,” Carson repeated as we squeezed down a particularly tall set of steps. Mirrish seemed to be loitering on it.
At the bottom, once I was able to focus on my surroundings instead of lizard backs, I realized why.
The old city loomed, blocked off by a chain fence. Not surrounded by marble pillars, it was presented to us almost as a bowl cut in the earth. A long spiraling walkway circled its edge, tight and rocky, the cut uneven. Here and there trees arched up. But these were not the trees of the forest we’d just passed through; they must have been part of a more ancient forest, preserved as the rest of this place evolved. Black and spindly, they forked in beautiful jags, so tall that they seemed like impossibly delicate strokes of ink. At irregular intervals a branch stuck out, absolutely filled with dark leaves, as though storm clouds had been transposed onto the tree.
As we stepped onto the last overlooking level, the air seemed to change.
“—welcome, humans, to the Old City,” a voice said from behind.
I jerked around.
No one there.
Heidi and Carson looked disturbed.
“Must be their Grapevine thing,” said Carson.
“Would you like to hear more?” the voice asked me.
As one, Heidi and I said, “No.” Carson said, “Yes.” Then, quickly, said, “Err, no. Thanks.”
“If you’d like to hear anymore about this heritage site,” the voice continued cheerily, “please simply ask for assistance. Have a safe visit.”
It was gone.
Nonetheless, I stuck my finger in my ear and jiggled it. Awful sensation, that had been.
We edged around until we could find a spot by the fence. Several Mirrish moved for us, apologizing.
The old city was filled with buildings. Most of them were short and squat and made of dark stone; there were none of the dwellings we’d found ourselves beside when we arrived, and no white marble shone to a sheen. The streets were either dirt or stone; it was hard to be sure from up here. And the city itself seemed to layered too, not just the spiral leading down to it; whole sections were raised above the rest, creating towering walls along boulevards—and, I guessed, clever choke points in the event of an invasion. Because why give up the high ground entirely, even if you decided to hollow out a crater and build your city in that?
Somewhere, down there, was what we had come to seek: the records room.
We hesitated by the fence, squinting.
“You know where it is we’re headed?” Heidi asked.
“Roughly,” said Carson. He cleared his throat.
“Good enough.”
Hesitation.
Carson opened his mouth—hesitated again.
Voice lower, he said, “There are Mirrish down there.”
“The old city isn’t totally off limits,” said Heidi. “It’s just visitors who aren’t allowed in.”
“What are they doing?”
I squinted, tracking the slivers of green against the darkness underfoot—green and deep red, all of them. Coincidence? Some kind of uniform?
“Maybe they’re working on something,” Heidi muttered.
“Or patrolling,” I put in.
We watched nervously, quietly trying to figure out what was happening down below. Whatever it was, there weren’t many Mirrish down there.
Not many was, of course, still too many. But that couldn’t be avoided.
Neither could the fact we were about to do this in plain sight.
Just as I frowned and wondered if the strange inner-ear voice magic could also pull my thoughts, Carson took a deep breath. “We need to go down there.”
“Right now?” Heidi asked.
“We don’t have much choice.”
She threw me a look.
“Mark this down,” I said. “The first time Carson has ever willed us into danger and law-breaking. I think.”
He hesitated again under our gaze, I think hoping one of us would take the lead. But this was his mission, and we all felt on edge surrounded by so many Mirrish, getting ready to do this so blatantly, in broad daylight—
He grabbed the chain fence, lifted it, and ducked under.
The Mirrish nearest gasped—
This level terminated, dropping some eight or nine feet down to the spiral around the city’s edge. Carson dropped, landing heavily and grunting—
I waited just long enough to be sure his feet didn’t skitter out from under him and send him sailing to the next level down, then followed Heidi as she dropped down after him.
More gasps, cries of horror.
I landed hard, and held back a curse. My ankle gave a groan—but then I was up, straight, flexing it to work the kink out. Not that I had much choice now, sprain or not. We were over, probably never going to be let back into the capital; better get this done first time.
“You okay?” Heidi was asking Carson.
“Mm.” He was slowest to rise, and braced against the wall—stone and dirt both, I saw. He grimaced at the mud left on his hand, swiped it sideways across his manbag, and glanced up.
“Well, I never!” one of the neighboring Mirrish was saying.
Another: “Goodness, so impolite.”
“That’s a heritage site, you know!” called another. And a friend from beside him: “Please don’t damage it!”
“Police are being called.”
A particularly naïve young one: “Did you fall?” It squatted, dangling an arm over the edge. “I’ll pull you up.” Two others joined it agreeably, and a smattering of doubt rippled through the nearest, as if it had been an accident, Carson throwing the fence up over his head and the three of us leaping down.
“Law enforcement are on their way!” came a cry again.
“We better move,” I said.
“Right,” Carson muttered. Tearing his eyes from the Mirrish, he nodded as if to steel himself. “Better move. Yeah.”
“Lead the way.”
He dodged around me. The path was thin, though, and it was tight. I pressed close to the wall, dirtying myself up handsomely. Then he skirted Heidi; she pressed back, and he turned sideways, catching her eye for a moment and apologizing as he brushed past. His manbag
caught her hip, and he grabbed for it as she shifted it—
“Sorry,” he said.
And then his back was to us as he loped down the long slope.
I moved forward—
“Heidi,” I prompted.
“Huh?” She blinked. “Oh.”
“We don’t have a lot of time.”
She glanced up at the onlookers, all their focus on us, calling out remarks that ranged from helpful to somewhat threatening, then she was moving after Carson.
Ignoring the dull ache in my ankle, I followed.
10
No one had caught up to us by the time we reached the old city proper. Nor were any Mirrish making their way down the outer spiral leading down to us; I’d been keeping an almost obsessive watch to make sure. I didn’t know how long it would be though, and I thanked Carson for double-timing his steps (and not going wrong and tipping over the side).
If that did happen, would the Mirrish still offer him medical treatment before slapping us on the wrist?
I decided not to ask their Grapevine like I might Siri or Cortana. Best to leave these things entirely unknown, hm?
We didn’t stop to admire the old city, but I let my gaze travel over the streets we passed through as Carson led. These buildings were all brick, not very Roman at all. And so dark. Did stone turn this dusky color when you penetrated this deep into the earth? Or had time done this, dirtying the buildings the way New York smog turned apartments from red to black?
Very quickly, we ran into our first cluster of Mirrish. They appeared from around a corner, a pair of them, and between them was clutched a silvery ghost—a shed skin.
We all froze.
They caught sight of us, and no smiles came.
“Shame!” one cried.
The other: “You were our guests!”
But they did nothing to stop us, just stood and stared in horror at us, and so, after a tug at the sleeve by Heidi and a quick, “Come on!” Carson resumed leading. Quicker now.
“Our law enforcement will deal with your trespassing!” one of the Mirrish called after us.
I jogged to catch up, the three of us in a loose triangle. “Whereabouts are these records?”
The City of Lies Page 7