“I really don’t,” Veranix said.
“I’m pretty certain we’re under the Firewing House. Or, at least, where it was before you tore it down.”
“This is what they had beneath the basement?” Veranix asked. “Does this mean they’re the ones kidnapping kids, working with the giant?”
“Can’t say,” Asti said. “I mean, they’re done. We killed them.”
“I only remember two of them being dead,” Veranix said. “The one with the flaming wings might have slipped off.”
“Flaming wings?” Delmin asked.
Veranix nodded. “Rather gaudy, if you ask me. If you’re gonna fly, just fly.”
Delmin got on his knees. “Of course, that Circle might have had members who didn’t live at that house. There may have been more going on than we’re aware of. What is this?”
“What?” Veranix asked. Delmin was running his hand along the floor, where some sort of metallic lattice work had been laid in.
Asti crouched down and touched it. “Maybe something like a cart track? I mean, some of these tunnels date back a few centuries, digging out the stone and ore that built half the city.”
Carts to haul out ore. Made sense. “But is this old?”
“No, no,” Delmin muttered. “This is new and yet . . .” He stood up, spreading his hands. “Saints, Vee, you aren’t feeling it?”
“Feeling what?”
“It’s. . . . It’s like . . . like the storm gutters, drawing the rainwater out of the streets and down and down and . . .”
He held up his hand, charged with numina, and threw the energy down to the ground. The magic danced and skipped, charging the grid at their feet with light.
“Oh, that’s . . . that’s incredible.” Delmin laughed for a moment, and then that laughter turned into short, heaving breaths. “No, that’s . . . where is it?”
“Easy, Del,” Veranix said. He put the arrow back in the quiver and put up his bow, and held his friend’s shoulder. “You all right?”
“No, I . . . I sent magic in there. Wherever that goes. What was I thinking?”
“The real question is what were they building?” Asti said, walking around the chamber. “Thorn, look at this. Water tanks.”
Veranix patted Delmin on the shoulder and went over. “That makes sense for the work, right? You’ve got a work crew down here, they need water.”
“No, these are boil tanks, with steam valves,” Asti said, kicking one of them. “Heavy steel. This would take a dozen men at least to carry down here. Nothing you would use for just provision.”
“What would you use it for?” Veranix asked.
Before Asti could answer, Delmin shouted, “It’s gotta be stopped!” and ran out one of the other passages.
“Del!” Veranix shouted, running after him.
“Saints, that kid,” Asti muttered as he caught up with Veranix. The two of them charged down the passageway, all the while Delmin could be heard shouting ahead of them, yelling something about magic and danger. Veranix couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying.
“Does he usually act like this?” Asti asked as they ran.
“Not at all,” Veranix said. “Something must have spooked him. I don’t know what—blazes!”
The passage split in two. To his ear, Delmin’s shouts came from both directions.
“Which way?” Veranix asked.
Asti scowled. “Can’t tell. Maybe there’s other passages that connect.”
More of Delmin’s shouts. Calling for them to follow now.
“What do we do?” Veranix asked. He had brought Delmin into this. He wanted to kick himself. This was all his fault.
“Each take a tunnel and hope for the best,” Asti said. He took a piece of chalk out of a pouch and made a mark on the wall. “You find him, drag him back to here. One hour, back here, regardless.”
“What?”
“No matter what, be back here in an hour. Last thing we need is all three of us wandering lost. And if we’re not back, follow the chalk out and get Verci.”
“Got it,” Veranix said, and with a hint of magic, tagged the chalk mark. Delmin would be able to sense that, get Veranix’s scent from it. “Hope you’re right.”
“Rarely am,” Asti said, and he ran off down the left passage. Veranix drew out his bow and nocked an arrow again, making his way down the right passage, and hopefully to Delmin. He didn’t know what trouble he might find—Saint Senea, keep that trouble off of Delmin—but he’d be ready for it.
Verci didn’t let himself worry about Asti down in the tunnels with the Thorn. They would be fine. It would all be fine. He forced himself to work to keep his mind off of what could happen. But he couldn’t focus on jape-toys and music boxes, even though those were selling very well in the past week. Terrentin was just a couple days away, and everyone wanted gifts to celebrate and rejoice with.
Instead he worked on the spring-launcher gauntlet. He had designed it to have a lot of different options, and it had proven useful in the fights with the Firewing mages a couple weeks ago. Very successful field test. It could launch both darts and hollow brass balls—and Almer Cort had made a few different interesting chemical mixtures to fill those balls with—but it could stand to be a bit more accurate. Though Verci wondered if part of that was he had designed it to be used left-handed, to keep his better hand free. Maybe he needed to just get better with his aim.
He was working on a way to be able to reload it faster when someone pounded on the back door.
Verci grabbed a knife on instinct. No one knocked on the back door to the Gadgeterium. It had a special lock that only he, Asti, and Raych could open. No one else ever came in that way. But Verci was prepared, opening the lens-hole he had installed by the door so he could safely look out to the back alley.
Another pound on the door. Verci looked through the lens; Kel Essin was out there, holding something under his coat and clutching at his belly. His hand was covered in blood, as was his shirt. Essin wasn’t a bad fellow—decent enough window-man when he was sober—though he had been part of Lesk’s
