I kicked the rest of the cactus fire toward the mouth of the cave to light things better. It was a great mess of flames, and it scared the bats, which for a short while stopped their ascent from the hole. When the little flames died, a few brave bats risked the flight out and more followed, and soon they were pouring forth again. Millions, there must have been.
The flames illuminated little, save a ledge but twenty feet down, which seemed reachable and like it was wide enough to stand on. Ignoring any possible misfortune, I descended as a fly on a wall, my breathing heavy against the rock face. I almost crushed the phial of your lifeblood. Once I made the ledge, I crouched down and took off my pack. The stream of bats seemed to be slowing now, and I stared into the stygian dark, deeper and blacker than any night I have known.
Partly because of the daunting task of bringing myself back up and partly because of the wonderment of it, there I sat for a long while. A cool air rose from the darkness and it felt miraculous against my burnt skin, a sorely needed respite from the sun and echoless waves of desert heat. The cool air snapped me back to life, reinvigorating me. I thought on what was down below me in the depths of the cave.
I don’t know how much time passed but the Milky Way became bright, again a river of silver birds. At the last fleeting glimpse of Sirius, that far star alone, she seemed to wink at me. This image gave rise to a whole asterism of your visage. I saw your face, your eyes marked by two bright lamps hung in the ether in just the right spots. It seemed a beautiful and haunting farewell. Our entwined fate is a path lost to us now. What am I to do with my feelings for you?
That Dog Star is gone for good, and I found myself looking in a new direction—straight underground. After pulling myself up, I hiked back to the tree I had climbed and hacked off a low branch with my sabre. I used the post, along with my blanket, to improvise a tent, and have made my own little camp not far from the hills that hide the cavern.
Hopelessly Yours, Zadock
∧∧ Zeke and Raisin hurried back to Zeke’s unit. Bartle was about to risk everything. Zeke needed to find Eliza. She should know her father didn’t abandon her. She should know him. Maybe she’d be able to tell if he was crazy. Or convince him of another plan. ∧∧ ∧∧ When Zeke got to their unit, the door stood open. He and Raisin entered cautiously. The place had been ransacked. Furniture was overturned, his things were scattered across the floor. Everything was coated with a layer of dust. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin eyed the mess. ∧∧ “Whoa.” He looked to Zeke for a reaction. Zeke’s shoulders were hunched tight. ∧∧ ∧∧ “You mind helping me clean this up?” Zeke picked up some cushions. He bent slowly. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Who did this?” Raisin stepped carefully around the unit. He closed the closet doors and pulled down the shades. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Whoever they were, they did a better job than last time.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “Someone really wants that letter. What is in that thing anyway?” ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke noticed the sabre sitting crooked above the mantel. It looked as though someone had moved it. As he straightened it he saw a tiny smear of blood on the sharp edge. “I’m afraid they’re going to pin those murders on me.” ∧∧ “The girls? It’s not the Deserters, I can tell you that for sure.” ∧∧ “They need to arrest someone soon, and Daxon has an excuse to arrest me. At least until the letter is turned in.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Was this always empty?” Raisin stood over Zeke’s record cabinet. The drawers had been pulled out onto the floor. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Hh. They were full of my carbon copies.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “I bet this was the bloody Republic. They do that. They take all your carbons so they can make you into whatever they want to. I’ve heard about this lots of times.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Maybe so.” ∧∧ “What do you mean, ‘maybe’? They want that letter, right? They’re trying to scare you. If they wanted to frame you for murder, they would just throw you in a jail cell. This is to shake you up. Make you turn in that letter.” ∧∧ Zeke picked up a small piece of paper, conspicuously placed on the kitchen counter. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “What’s that?” ∧∧ ∧∧ “Note from Eliza.” Zeke turned the paper over in his hand.
∧∧ “Where’d she get a pencil? What’s it say?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Eliza is gone.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “She left you?” ∧∧ “No.” Zeke stopped. “I mean, I don’t know. She’s not at Leeya’s.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “I thought she was. I’m calling.” Raisin picked up the phonotube. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “She’s not there, Raisin. Neither is Leeya.” Raisin held up the hand signal for silence. Zeke could hear the echo of the unanswered buzz down the semaphore line. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “I’m telling you, Raisin. No one is at Leeya’s unit. She’s gone underground, to join up.” ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin stopped. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “No answer.” He capped the tube to end the call. “I said I’d take her to join the Deserters.” ∧∧ “No. She’s joined the Auspices.” ∧∧ “We can’t let that happen. We’ve got to go find her. We’ll go underground.” ∧∧ “You know how to get into the tunnels?” ∧∧ “Sure, that’s the first step toward fleeing. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, the Deserters know—” ∧∧ “That doesn’t answer the question of what happened to Eliza.” Zeke looked distraught. He handed Raisin the note. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin studied it. “What if Eliza was here when the Republic hit your place?” He opened the door a crack and peered out. ∧∧ “This note could’ve been written under coercion.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke rifled through all of Eliza’s things. He looked for a clue, anything else she’d left behind. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ With Eliza gone, his despair came on in full force. He should have trusted her. He shouldn’t have planned without her. ∧∧ ∧∧ “Because where would she get the paper?” Raisin began to panic. “You’re sure this is her handwriting? This is exactly the kind of thing they do all the time. You can’t believe what you read. This note is cryptic. Look closely.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke grabbed the note out of Raisin’s hand. He held it up to his eyes, examining the handwriting. “She’s been arrested,” he said. ∧
∧∧ The phosphor lamps cut the moonless night. Raisin led Zeke through the southwest quadrant. “I want to go to the jail and find Eliza.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “You can’t do that. That’s exactly why they took her, to flush you out,” Raisin said. “We have to figure out another plan. Here, take the edge off.” He produced a dram of laudanum from his pocket. ∧∧ “Hh.” Zeke took the dropper and hurled it as far as he could. It was swallowed in the dark and they heard the glass shatter faintly. ∧∧ “Whoa. Calm down. Listen, let’s go down in the tunnels. That’s where the Nightman lives.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “Eliza isn’t with Leeya. Her father said so.” ∧∧ “If anyone can find Eliza, it’s the Nightman. He knows how the Republic operates. The Deserters keep much better tabs on the Lawmen than vice versa.” They walked quickly, keeping inside the dead zones. Soon they were deep in the industrial quadrant of the city-state. Raisin stopped near the barrier. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ He pointed at a small hatch at the base of the steamcarrier garage. He rubbed the dust off with his hand-kerchief. There was a tiny symbol painted on the handle, a wolf with the moon in its mouth, ringed by seven stars. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “A wolf eating the moon?” Zeke asked. ∧∧ ∧∧ “That’s the rabbit in the moon.” Raisin uncapped a tube embedded in the wall. He whispered into it, “As above, so below.” The door clicked and opened in a small puff of dust. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin descended the ladder inside the dark hole. Zeke sensed his urgency and followed without hesitation. The door shut behind them. The dark was blinding. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The ladder was much longer than the one up to the watchpost. Zeke’s shoulders ached. Zeke followed the sound of Raisin’s footfalls until they stopped. ∧∧ ∧∧ “That’s the end.” His voice echoed in the dark. Zeke stepped off the ladder onto wet gravel. He felt along the walls. They were covered in dripping condensation. He couldn’t see Raisin. Zeke’s senses sharpened. He had covered every squ
are foot of the city-state on his walks, seen every building from every angle. He could have closed his eyes and navigated Texas for the rest of his life, but this was new. He had never been somewhere new. Though he couldn’t see anything, he felt the rush of being in a foreign place. He tried to gauge his surroundings. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “What’s that smell?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Sulfur,” Raisin whispered. “These are the old mines. This whole city-state was built from them. They aren’t active anymore—all the raw materials are used up.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “Where do we go now?” ∧∧ “We wait. For him.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Who, exactly?” ∧∧ ∧∧ “I don’t know his name. They just call him Nightman. He left the Republic and joined the Deserters. His reports are how they know what the Republic is up to. He’s famous among the Deserters.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧“How long do we have to wait?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Until he comes.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Should we sit down?” ∧∧ ∧∧ The air tasted strange. Zeke thought about how many different places there were on earth. Places he would never go. Somehow this tunnel made them all seem possible. Every plan that his grandfather had ever made had a backup, a fail-safe. Was this tunnel the city-state’s fail-safe? Was the letter a fail-safe? ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Raisin, I can’t believe you never told me about this. How many times have you been down here?” ∧∧ ∧∧ “A few. When I started getting into the Deserter stuff, I was dumb—I tried to ask around about it. They noticed, I got flagged. One day I found a paper note under my door, typed. Directions to this tunnel.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ They stood still. Time stretched. The dark seemed eternal. Zeke felt alone with his thoughts, like he did lying on the floor mat in the morning after Eliza had left for work. It was hard to imagine doing that now. It was hard to imagine his life before the letter. Everything had seemed so gray, like there was no inherent meaning to his life. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ He had always thought that being named Khrysalis might change that. It was up to each person to make sense of the world and decide what mattered. When folks spoke of the fates, he silently judged them. But now, things had happened. The feeling that had lodged in his chest since he found the letter couldn’t be denied. It was beyond his control to decide its meaning. Maybe the fates had decided for him after all, and there was a purpose to his life. He blinked in the pitch-black of the tunnel. Maybe the essential thing to do was to chase that purpose now that it was found. To stop questioning it. Zeke thought about Eliza. He tried not to imagine her kidnapping. She would cooperate, so as not to get hurt. She would evade questions, appear pliant when she was at her toughest. He knew she would be scared. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Raisin?” ∧∧ “Yeah?” ∧∧ “I think I should take my grandfather’s Senate seat.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ A hooting sound echoed through the tunnel. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Flickering white pinlights appeared in the distance. ∧∧ “Why would you want to take the seat now?” Raisin asked. ∧∧ “Eliza wants me to. And it might allow—” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The pulsing lights were right in front of them. They fell silent. The lights were fireflies. Zeke had only read about them. They bumped around inside a glass jar, which threw little light on the man carrying it. His face was in shadow, hidden under an old cap and a scraggly beard. ∧∧ ∧∧ The man nodded to Raisin. He looked Zeke over with serious eyes. ∧∧ ∧∧ “Hey Nigh…
Hey. Hh, remember me?” Raisin stuttered. “My friend here…Zeke Thomas. He’s got Lawmen hot on his heels. They ransacked his place. We need help.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman motioned them to follow. They walked down the tunnel. The dark thrummed around them with heavy breath. Zeke’s boots squelched in muck. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ They walked for a while, following the jar of fireflies. The Nightman seemed to have it balanced on his head. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Does he ever talk?” Zeke whispered to Raisin. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Those who speak do not know, those who know do not speak,” the Nightman called back in a darkly melodic voice. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “That’s a funny thing to say.” Raisin tried a jovial tone. Zeke could tell he was nervous. “So, how’s the desertion going? I read about the civilizations out there. And the armies. I’d sign up. If there are plans or whatever. For attack.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman said nothing. Zeke wondered if he knew about the cannon. If it was down in these old mines. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin tried again. “Hey, you haven’t seen a couple of girls down here, have you?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman stopped. He took a small ring of keys from a pocket in his sleeve and slipped one into the wall. Zeke hadn’t seen a keyhole. A door opened, the exact size of the hatch aboveground. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman stepped backward into the room. They followed. The inside was no wider than Zeke’s bedroom, but it went back a long way. The end couldn’t be seen. It was lit from above with glowing plants, the same pale green of phosphor light, calm and steady. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ There was a giant silver platter with a half-eaten meal on it—the carcass of some unidentifiable animal, with jutting bones. The walls were lined with stacks of pamphlets, books, and records. It was a mess. Some were tied together with string. Zeke had never seen so much paper. A dusty bed was the only piece of furniture. The Nightman pulled a pile of papers out from under it. He sat cross-legged on the bed. In the light he looked more severe and dirty. He opened his palms. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Ask a pointless question, get a pointless answer.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin looked at Zeke, and then back at the Nightman. “So, is it true about Spree? Are folks gathering in the rot?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Bats of a feather…” ∧∧ “…flock together. Got it.” ∧∧ The Nightman frowned at the interruption. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “So what do I do to get to them? What if I want to be a ‘bat’? How do I flee?” ∧∧ “Hold on, Raisin,” Zeke whispered. ∧∧ “Don’t worry, I’m taking Leeya.” He turned to the Nightman. “So what do I do?” ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman pulled a sabre from his belt. It was well oiled. Zeke tensed. “You can’t run with the hare and hunt with the wolves.” The Nightman walked back into his den of paper. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “I…what does that even mean?” Raisin followed him. “That I should go join them? Is this some sort of test?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman cut the string off a stack of paper. He pulled a file out and flung it into the air. The papers fluttered down around him. He deftly stabbed into them with a snap of his wrist. A pierced pamphlet remained on the end of his sabre. “Even a baby bird can escape the egg,” he said, offering it to Raisin. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin carefully slid the pamphlet off the sabre. The weapon disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He unfolded the pamphlet. It contained diagrams annotated with handwritten instructions. It described the steammines that ringed the city-state. Zeke looked over his shoulder, squinting in the dim light. The cover looked like it belonged to a different pamphlet. It read: BATS of the REPUBLIC (’43 EDITION). ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “This just shows how we get over the barrier, past the steammoat.” Once Zeke said the words aloud they felt obvious. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “This isn’t actually what we need.” Zeke was frustrated. “Raisin?” His friend was engrossed in the pamphlet. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “OK.” Zeke approached the Nightman cautiously. “Here’s our situation. My pair, Eliza, has gone missing. I need to get her back. I’m not going anywhere without her.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “All birds are gray in the dark.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “That’s…She’s…None of this is her fault. I’ve got a Law deadline. And all I want is to be back at home, with her.” ∧∧ The Nightman rummaged through his piles. He lifted a stack that seemed too big for any single fellow to lift. He shuffled things about. His system of organization was a mystery, perhaps even to himself. He reached into his left boot and produced a small pamphlet. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “This had better not be something else about escaping civilization. I’ve heard enough about that.”
As
Zeke reached out, the Nightman pulled it away. He made the symbol for money with his left hand. ∧∧ Raisin shrugged. “It’s probably because you’re not a Deserter like me.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke ground his teeth. He fished some greenbacks out of his pocket. He handed them to the Nightman, who pointed to Zeke’s other pocket. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke emptied his other pocket, giving the Nightman all his money. The Nightman handed him the pamphlet. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The title read: STEAMSABRE TECHNIQUES and TRAINING for THE REPUBLIC. ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin took it from Zeke’s hand. “Hh, that looks tough.” ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke threw up his hands. “I don’t need that. I’m not attacking anyone.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.” The Nightman produced another pamphlet from his right boot. “He who fights and flies away—” ∧∧ Zeke snatched the pamphlet. It had a picture of the tram on the front. He grabbed Raisin’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.” He pushed the door. It wouldn’t open. It was painted on the wall, there was no longer any hinge. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ The Nightman did a strange side step. He kicked open a waist-high door on the other side of his den. He bowed. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke pushed Raisin out of the small opening. He followed. The door disappeared. They stood in the blackness of the mine tunnel. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “We have to get out of here.” Zeke pulled Raisin along. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Easy. According to this pamphlet, it takes two ‘bats’ to trick the steammines. And once we’re in the rot—” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Raisin. I mean we have to get out of this tunnel. I have to find Eliza. I’m not…” Zeke’s mouth felt like it was filling with the wet darkness. ∧∧ ∧∧ “Blood/Air/Water decides?” ∧∧ Raisin stopped walking. “Raisin, this is serious.” ∧∧ “I’m serious too. You have to leave the city-state. The Law is after you. You’ve got no letter.” ∧∧ ∧∧ “Either way, we can’t stay down here. Which way is out?” ∧∧ ∧∧ “Out? I have no idea. It’s pitch-black in here.” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke and Raisin wound down the tunnel, moving slowly in the dark. Zeke’s feet were sore. His head felt muddied. ∧∧ “It can’t be too far.” Raisin looked for the ladder. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “When I get out, I’m staying in the rot,” Raisin said. ∧∧ “You have no idea what’s out there,” Zeke said. They walked for a long time in silence, feeling along the walls. The tunnel branched off and they were forced to chose a direction. It felt like they were going in circles. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ “Hear that?” They stopped walking to listen closely. A whimpering bleat echoed through the tunnel. “That’s someone.” Raisin walked quickly. Zeke stumbled behind him. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ A ring of pale light appeared down the tunnel. As they approached they saw it was not a sliver of daylight but the crack of a doorway shaped like a crescent. Zeke hesitated, but Raisin deftly slid inside and he had no choice but to follow. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke immediately felt the presence of others in the room, but his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light. They pressed against the wall, just inside the door. The room was cavernous. An arched roof extended far above them. The air was strange and dense with sulfur. ∧∧ The walls were stacked with jars filled with fireflies. They flickered madly, lighting the room erratically. Zeke blinked. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ There were rows of wooden benches facing a large silver ring. A small fountain bubbled at the center. It was fount-water, but a deeper color. He could just make out symbols on the silver platform written in mercurial ink. They seemed to shift in the moving light. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ On the benches sat women of various ages. They all wore gray robes and spoke in hushed tones. Their faces and hands were adorned with fine silver ornaments. ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke and Raisin sat down in the back row. The women were all facing toward the central ring, which was hard to see in the dark. ∧∧ ∧∧ “Where are we?” Zeke whispered. ∧∧ “I don’t know. I was expecting the Deserters,” Raisin said. He picked up a darkened jar and shook it. The giant moth inside quickly flickered to life. It lit Raisin’s face with a flutter. “Where do these things come from?” ∧∧ ∧∧ ∧∧ Leeya appeared beside Raisin, startling him. She sat down on the bench. ∧∧ ∧∧ “Leeya!” Raisin barked, and reached for her. She pulled her hand away. She was wearing a large white robe that made her appear small and girlish. Her long blonde hair was plaited, her eyes fixed with foreboding. ∧∧ “The moth came from the storm country. You put some moonflowers in a jar, and soon you’ll have lightning moths. One of the Auspices told me that.” ∧∧ “The Auspices?”∧∧ “This is the Auspicium,” Zeke said under his breath. ∧∧ ∧∧ “They all came through the tunnel. Do you want some fruit?” Leeya’s voice was off. She produced a dark pomegranate from her sleeve pocket. ∧∧ ∧∧ Raisin took the fruit awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “Leeya, I have a plan.” He tried to keep his voice down. “We have to get back up top. Do you know the way?” ∧∧ “The tunnel.” ∧∧ “Yes, but which one?” ∧∧ “Spree’s. He built it. He dug from the outside and the Nightman dug from the inside. It’s two lefts, four rights, one left, down the ladder: You’re in the tunnel. And then you’re in the storm country.” ∧∧ “It goes to the rot? That easy? Why is everyone in here? I mean, what’s out there?” ∧∧ “That tunnel is sealed. Not for us to know. For now there’s fruit. And fireflies. That is what our child requires.” Her voice was strange, without emotion or register. ∧∧ “Let’s escape. Right now!” Raisin looked frantically at them both. ∧∧ “It’s not for us. No one can go out that way.” ∧∧ ∧∧ Zeke finally interjected, “Leeya, where is Eliza?” ∧∧ ∧∧ Leeya stood up and left them without answering. An eerie quiet had descended. They nervously watched as Leeya walked down the aisle toward the silver circle in the center of the room. The light thrown from the jars of lightning moths dimmed. Leeya joined six other girls wearing matching white robes. They sat on carved tree stumps in a ring, ankles crossed in the same direction. Seven older women appeared in black robes. The air went out of the room and a deadly quiet took its place. The ritual had begun. The Auspices approached each girl in turn and washed their feet in small silver bowls. The audience stood. The eldest woman in black took the center. She slid her hood back to reveal a bird’s nest of tangled white hair. Her fingers were tipped with metal spikes. With a raspy breath, she began to incant a prayer:
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