The Atrius was a grand building that stood like a protective father up an exhausting number of steps at the back of all the weaving streets. It was a complicated structure made of ice-white stone, its walls curving around and outwards but not meeting in the middle, like a broken ring. Water poured down from the top section to the bottom in constant streams, making it seem as if it had liquid columns. It stood out among all the other modern structures we had seen, and like the Aquadome, I got the impression that it was one of the earlier Fenodarian buildings – a piece of cultural heritage that was to be preserved and maintained, rather than razed and rebuilt.
Gabriella and I took an elevator down to the main area and walked alongside the network of restaurants, past the fountain and through the courtyard. The pavement beneath our feet was white and veined, as if the roots of inverted trees were pressing against an icy surface, trying to break through.
“They’re empty,” said Gabriella after a while.
“Sorry?”
“The restaurants. Nearly every single one of them is empty. Look, some are even closed up.”
I followed to where she was pointing and saw that she was right. Several of the buildings had golden shutters rolled down and Qi’lern symbols painted on their doors that roughly translated to “out of business.”
“Looks like even the glossy side of the city is suffering,” I said.
“Money only reaches so far and goes on so long.” She paused. “I wonder what happens to the rest of the citizens when they run out completely.”
I shuddered to think.
We reached the back of the area and climbed up the steps until we reached the Atrius – which towered at least fifty feet above the other buildings. It was then that we saw that the grand building was the place where it seemed everyone came to eat. Thousands of citizens were split into three distinct queues, waiting patiently with their families as they were let in – at a speedy clip – by Lightwardens stationed at three entrances to the building. I noticed that those on the far left seemed to be going in the fastest, and generally seemed to be of the highest wealth. Their garments were the richest cloth, their jewelry the shiniest.
Those in the opposite queue wore older clothes, some with visible marks or small tears. Most wore fairly plain adornments on their arms and hair, or none at all.
“It’s a class system,” I said.
“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Gabriella said bitterly.
“Which queue do we join?” I asked, looking around.
It seemed that we didn’t need to join at all. As we walked closer, Gabriella pointed ahead.
“There.”
The rest of Orion were standing in a cluster near the entrance, talking in hushed voices. All apart from Aran, who was leaning over and inspecting some tall flowers, stroking her blue fingers across the delicate petals with the wonderment of a small child. Scarlett noticed our arrival and waved us over. “I found everyone and bought them here like you asked. One of the Lightwardens told us to wait for someone to take us inside,” she said. “Guests of honour apparently.”
I blew air between my teeth. Everything about Fenodara seemed tainted now, every benefit and feature of the city tainted by the twisted foundations that supported them. The words of the old crone came back to me: “Beautiful on the surface, but rotten at its core.”
Never a truer word has been spoken.
“Are you guys okay?” said Mikey, clearly seeing the stress in our faces.
“Not really,” said Gabriella.
Sophia raised a hand in the air, and Midnight landed on her outstretched finger. She stretched open a pocket on her robe and he jumped inside, shifting from sparrow to mouse. “So,” she said, “what happened?”
We told them what we had witnessed on the other side of the door, and I watched as horrified expressions swept across their faces like dark clouds. All except for Sophia, who didn’t really react.
“Good god,” said Danny. “How the hell can they get away with something like this?”
“By keeping it a secret,” replied Gabriella. “We weren’t meant to see what we saw, and for good reason. Even for a world as messed up as Pandemonia, that has got to be some kind of war crime. The Lightwardens are totally corrupt. That’s why they react so severely to anyone who doesn’t fall in line.”
“But what about those on the front lines? Surely they can see that their new recruits are barely out of adulthood, or still children?” said Grey.
“Who knows?” I said. “They are probably so desperate for support they just accept it. If you’re fighting a war and you’re losing badly, you’ll take whatever help you can get. You should have seen it, guys. That kid we saved? He was as indoctrinated as it gets. I can imagine they fight like rabid animals.”
“I was a child when I was fighting with you all,” said Sophia. “Is it really that different?”
“Of course it is,” snapped Gabriella. “The Alliance rescued you. You weren’t lured in under false pretenses, separated from your family, and then kept under awful conditions until you forgot your own name, then turfed out to fight in a war you don’t even understand. Plus you know it was a mistake that we ever let you fight with us in the first place.”
Sophia flinched from the acidic response
“Mia bambina, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I–” Gabriella cut off her words when a Lightwarden approached us, armed with a beaming smile that was as false as a two-pound note.
“Evening, Guardians. Apologies that you have been kept waiting. If you would follow me, I will take you to your table.” He turned on his heel and we followed him past the waiting citizens and through a smaller door near the main entrance, gaining salutes from the Lightwardens and stares from those waiting. Aran came in a moment later, holding a plucked flower in her hands. She fell into step next to Gabriella and me.
“Why do you have that?” Gabriella asked her.
“Aran has not seen this species of flower for centuries. It once grew near the homelands, but the Ageless War destroyed them long ago. Aran was simply observing their beauty at first but then decided to pick one to keep. It can be returned if Huntmaster Gabriella is displeased. Although it may not grow as effectively…if at all.”
“It’s fine, Aran. Keep it.”
I was almost certain I caught a glimmer of a smile appear on the Urisk’s face as she slipped the vivid orange flower into a fold of her white robe.
The Atrius was essentially a vast feasting hall set over various levels – likely once the pride of Fenodara – but now displaying the marks of fading opulence. The curving ground floor had countless rows of white pillars merging with a high ceiling that was filled with murals of the Elementals, but most of the columns were cracked and a lot of the artwork was now worn down to indistinguishable shapes. A central row of tables ran as far as the eye could see, disappearing around the curved walls in the distance. An uncountable number of the low-level citizens sat at the tables on uncomfortable-looking stools, eating from an array of food that they served themselves from bowls and plates sitting in the middle section of each table. There barely looked like there was enough to go around – there was a lot of clear space on plates.
Citizens at the front of the queue handed their currency cards over to a small group of Lightwardens – who scanned them on a reader – and then walked down the room, searching for space on the tables. As we followed our guide through the vast room towards the stairs that led up to the next floor I heard a loud beep. It came from the card scanner. A mother Elf with worry lines crowding her face and a toddler son clutching her hand for dear life were barred from moving forward.
“I’m sorry, Citizen Egradia, but I’m afraid you are out of food credits.”
“B-but that’s impossible,” she squawked. “I have money, I have…”
Another warden appeared at her side and took hold of her arm, in a non-aggressive but persuasive manner. “If you could just come with me, please.”
“No, you don’t und
erstand, I have money. There should be—”
“If you come with me, I am sure we can straighten this out.” His tone was still pleasant but edged with authority.
“Matriar, what’s happening?” asked the toddler, staring up with his vivid blue eyes.
“It’s okay darling, we just need to–” she began.
“Go with the warden,” barked a man behind her. “Some of us are hungry.”
The woman continued to protest as a warden took hold of her arm. Before I knew what I was doing I had broken away from the group and moved over to them. “Stop,” I said, pulling out my currency card. “I’ll pay for her and her son.”
The Lightwardens looked at me, and the one holding her arm let his hand fall away instantly. He gave a wide smile. “Guardian, you need not concern yourself with this situation.”
“Well, I just did.” I pressed the card into his hand. “I want to pay for both of them. For a month.”
The Elf’s face stared at me in a mixture of shock and gratitude. Clearly acts of kindness were a rarity in Fenodara.
“Guardian, paying for another Citizen is not generally—”
“Is it a crime?” I interrupted.
“Well no…”
“Then take the money from my currency card. Now.” I narrowed my eyes and stared at the Lightwarden. He glanced at the others for a moment and then conceded. “As you wish.” He scanned the card in the reader and then gestured ahead, his voice hollow. “Citizen Egradia, you and your lifeson may proceed into the Atrius.”
The Elf glanced at the Lightwardens as if she was unsure if it was a trick or not. As she passed by me, ushering her confused son with her, she gave me a final thankful glance and then hurried off to find a seat. As I turned away I could feel the Lightwardens’ eyes boring into my back. I just publicly belittled them. They won’t like that. As I rejoined the others, a sick feeling spread through my stomach. She’s okay for now, but what happens to her and her son in a month? I couldn’t say for sure where she would end up, but I had a pretty damn good idea. I just hope she can find more money before that happens.
Our guide gave a smile as I reached him and the group, who were waiting at the foot of a grand set of stairs set against the wall. “That was very generous of you, Guardian, but unnecessary. Sometimes the card readers malfunction. It’s nothing to worry about at all. Let’s keep going.”
Yeah sure, Mr. North Korea.
I glanced at Gabriella, her face calm and expressionless. But as we started to follow the Lightwarden again, I felt her hand reach out and squeeze mine.
The next level of the Atrius was higher quality, with most of the pillars and murals restored. Rather than a single run of tables, there were smaller ones placed at even intervals along the long room, and those who emerged from a different staircase and gathered around them seemed to know each other well. I also noticed that each table had their own Displaced waitresses, who bought food and drinks over after the citizens selected from a small menu.
The third level was dripping with opulence. Golden statues stood among countless banquet tables, each loaded with arranged bouquets, ornaments and a sea of food that released mouth-watering aromas and made my stomach grumble, despite everything. There were far fewer citizens on this level and all of them sat with the relaxed poses of the indulged. Whilst they sipped wine and darkmead, the prettiest of the Displaced waitresses – made up and wearing reveling robes – moved seductively around the tables, presenting dishes of beautiful food that looked like they had been prepared by Michelin-star chefs. A band was playing against one wall, producing a rich and melodic sound from their bizarre instruments.
We moved up a final set of steps that opened into a smaller room filled by a grand oak table and lined with throne-like chairs. The table was laid up for several courses and exquisite chalices sat waiting to be filled with the contents of the ornate pitchers and carafes that ran down the centre. The lighting was subdued, emanating from small wall-hanging lights that looked like water droplets, and in the small shadows cast by the light fixtures, the most otherworldly beautiful of all of the Displaced waitresses stood waiting to serve. The music from the level below was pumped through speakers in the corner; the device resembled conical white twigs, twisted around each other into an arrow point.
But by far the most impressive thing about the whole room was the stunning piece of artwork spread across the vast ceiling. The piece depicted the four Elementals facing off against six fierce-looking Dragons with differing forms. It started as a painting, but broke out into a 3D sculpture of ivory and adamantine that hung six feet down, twisting together and capturing the kinetic ferocity of the battle. I couldn’t deny its utter beauty. It was like the Pandemonian equivalent of the Sistine Chapel.
The waitresses moved forward in absolute symmetry as we entered, pulling back ten chairs closest to the near end of the table. As we took our seats, they swirled around us like choreographed dancers, pouring specific drinks from different jugs. “Highwarden Caria will be with you shortly,” said our Lightwarden guide with another, final smile, and then he disappeared from the room.
“God damn bastards,” said Troy as soon as the Luminar had gone, chugging dark frothy beer from a thick mug. “Child soldiers, forced labour, martial law, and an oppressive class system. It doesn’t get much worse than that.”
“Are we going to say anything to Aegis?” Hollie asked Gabriella, after taking a tentative sip of a black, wine-like drink.
“I’m not sure yet,” she replied. “Let’s see what he says first.”
I picked up a mug of the same beer that Troy was drinking. It had a strong and earthy taste, but was actually pretty good. As it hit my throat, I realised how thirsty I was and drained most of it in one long pull. Setting it down, I wiped my mouth. “We need to be careful. Like we said earlier, we weren’t meant to see what we did.”
A moment later Aegis walked through the door, followed by six Lightwardens. He was still wearing his uniform, but his helmet was gone and his hair had been unleashed, hanging over one of his shoulders and shimmering gold in the light. Gabriella stood up in reluctant respect and we all followed her lead. The Highwarden opened out his arms in the same inclusive gesture he had used on us when we first arrived. “Guardians, welcome to the Atrius. I am so glad you decided to join me. Please sit.”
As we sat down, the Lightwarden troupe split in half and took their seats at the extremities of our group, sitting on the left of Grey and the right of Aran. Aegis waited whilst a female Pixie waitress with silver hair piled into a complicated design on the top of her head pulled out his chair. His large, chalice – studded with a dozen glinting gems – was quickly filled with a thick golden liquid, and he took a long sip, closing his eyes and nodding his head.
“Nothing like a good drink after a long day,” he said with a sigh.
A long day of oppression and war crimes.
He set down his drink and made a sweeping gesture with the same hand. “The foundations of this Atrius were among the first laid when our ancestors originally built Fenodara and has since become one of the defining cornerstones of this wonderful city. It has taken countless forms over the countless years, including a palace, a courthouse, a teaching institute and even feasting hall devoted to the Thirteen Pale Princes before they were all slain in the Great Sacking. Now it is the hand that feeds the many. You may have noticed that many of the smaller restaurants are closed.”
Gabriella nodded. “We did notice.”
“Money is a difficult commodity to come by these days and is better spent elsewhere. However, it seems cruel to scatter the memories of such a once- beautiful area of diverse Luminar cuisine to the wind, so we do our best to keep as many of them open as we can. For those who are willing to pay the premium price, of course.”
“They were all empty,” I said.
He gave a wan smile as he rolled the stem of his chalice between his fingers. “Like I said, money is difficult to come by these days.”
A moment later, the waitresses, who’d left the room so quietly I hadn’t noticed, poured back through the door, loaded with steaming platters that they set down in the middle of the table. “Ah, excellent,” said the Highwarden, as the Pixie placed a napkin down on his lap. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you all. I have no doubt you will find the food more than adequate.”
“That’s fine. Thank you, Highwarden,” said Gabriella in a formal tone.
After having my own cloth placed down over me, I looked down at the medium rare chunk of meat sitting on the silver platter in front of me. It was lying on a bed of steaming vegetables – not a single one I recognised among them – and was coated in a dark red sauce. The rest of the Chosen were given the same; Scarlett and Mikey had a bowl of rich blood, and Aran was presented with a plate of vivid green leaves and pieces of what looked like dried bark.
“Please, help yourselves.”
I was pissed off and appalled by what we had seen, but I couldn’t deny that I was also starving. The journey through the Veil and everything since had taken a lot out of me. So I carved several large slices of the meat and piled it onto my plate, followed by the vegetables and finishing with a splash of gravy from a nearby jug. As soon as it hit my mouth, I knew it was one of the best things I had ever eaten. It was rich, delicate and filling, yet somehow light on my stomach all at the same time.
“White Hart meat,” said Aegis, his smile widening as he watched us all digging in. “One of the finest foods that this world has to offer.” It wasn’t hard to see why it had achieved infamous status.
I looked up to see that Aran had placed her fingers into the bed of leaves. At first I thought she was going to stuff them into her mouth, but instead she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. With astonishment I watched as the leaves dried and turn dark, and the bark dissolved into powder as the veins on her blue arms turned white and pulsed. A passage from my handbook filled my mind: “Urisks absorb the nutrients directly from their foods.” Reading about it was one thing, but seeing it in action was something else entirely.
The Veil Page 14