The Airship Aurelia (The Aurelian Archives) (54 page)

He’d known this was coming; he just hadn’t prepared for it. Nivy belonged here. When she remembered that for herself, they would lose her.

              He tried to contort his grimace into what was no doubt a misshapen smile as she looked at him. “So…the guilds. They run The Heron?”

             
“Those committed to the rebellion, yes. There are three. The Martial Guild, The Laborers Guild, and The Guild of Rule. The military, the people, and the politicians.”

             
“You’ve built your own government.”

             
“Trust me,” Nivy said with a snort, “it’s not as impressive as it sounds. Each guild has two leaders, a First and a Second, who are voted into power. Together, the six leaders are responsible for all major decision making in the Underground. Canter is one of The Six.” She stared into the light for a moment. It turned the shadow of her hood into a hard visor across her eyes. “She’s also one of the few who knew about my mission to retrieve Aurelia and the book, and what they both might mean.”

             
What Reece really wanted to do was demand why she would entrust that information to a woman who had struck him as a complete psychopath, but he cleared his throat and curbed his tone as they neared the door. He could now hear voices and footfall over the hum of machinery, but beyond that, he didn’t know what to expect of the underground: a tumbledown town like Leto City, or another thriving Neserus. “Is she a friend of yours?”

             
“She had something to gain from what I could learn on Honora.” Nivy’s expression was withdrawn, cautious. “I needed someone to get me far enough out from The Ice Ring to launch my capsule. She flew me three weeks away from the nearest Stream and made the return journey alone.”

             
“When I first met you, I asked what Stream your planet was near, and you said none,” he remembered. She paused just inside the doorway, forcing Gideon to do the same before he could stretch Reece into two.

             
“As I remember it, you asked if there was a Stream near where I came from. I came from somewhere out in The Voice. There was no Stream.”

             
“You lied.”

             
“I told the wrong truth.” She rolled her eyes at his look of wounded disbelief—which was only partly put on—and sighed. “How was I supposed to specify? There was so little I
could
explain in full. Was I really going to waste the time correcting you on the things that didn’t matter?” He opened his mouth, but she must have anticipated his very clever reply, because she headed it off with a flat, “Don’t be stupid,” and stole out from under his arm and into the light with a smirk, like she’d been waiting a long time to say that.

             
The first thing Reece noticed about the underground base with its sharp angles and smooth black walls like coal was that it was familiar, though he didn’t know why. The second thing he noticed was the birds.

             
The door to their prison cell was one of hundreds pointing out into the giant, bustling center of Heron operations. Its identical doorways ran in neat rows up its tiered levels, and almost every doorway had its own arching bridge, which divided and intersected at random with the bridges next to it and across from it, which dissected again and then again, like the zigzagging, multiplying tunnels of ant farms Reece had learned about in his Animalogy class. Some of the bridges were carved from slabs of black stone worn smooth from years of shuffling feet, but others were wood and iron like old drawbridges, and there were even a few classic rope bridges strung in the mix. It was as if someone had taken one of his childhood forts in the woods at Emathia and pumped it with Vee serum so it filled out exponentially.

             
Weaving between the bridges were messenger hawks with red-streaked tails and wicked, half-moon beaks, carrying scrolls in either their talons or the leather pouches on their stubby legs. They swam in the shafts of snow-diluted sunlight leaking through the hive’s glass roof, swooping between datascreens fixed on poles of all different heights. The screens flickered soundlessly, encoded information flowing from one into another as fast as the birds could fly.

It was a strange mash of qualities, clean and sharp and gritty and rustic, old and new. Reece couldn’t tell which aspect had been here first: the elegant black stone with its airy openness and faintly translucent screens, or the unpolished parts that were clearly all Heron, like the clutter of the bridges and the loudness of the birds.

              It came to him as Nivy turned them down a dark hall with small orange lanterns flanking its stone floor like a runway—what the glistening black walls and sharp tiers of the complex brought to mind. His skin crawled. It couldn’t be coincidence, The Heron’s base resembling The Kreft’s ships. He glanced at Gideon. He was glaring around at the ceiling and walls suspiciously, as if he’d made the same connection.

At the end of the tunnel, they spilled out into a smaller chamber of the same design as the last, except in this one, there was no overhead window; just more runway lanterns edging the railed bridges. Reece couldn’t see any hawks, but he could hear them out in the dark. A rustle of wings, a click of claws, the occasional unnerving screech. He wished he was wearing his coat, so he could turn his collar up around his neck.

              “How big is this place?” he asked.

             
Mose chirped cheerfully, “There are several caverns of this size, but most of the room goes into housing the generators providing the complex with power, so living space itself is small. We’ve been trying to expand, but it’s too cold to expose whole sections of the complex to the weather outside for long periods of time, and we’re blocked in by the mountains to the west.”

             
Reece’s eyes followed an elderly couple as they passed by hand in mittened hand. He’d half expected all The Heron to be like Nivy, dark, on edge. Soldiers or spies. Granted, he saw a fair number of both, striding along with globes of light in one hand and screens like sleeker datascopes in the other, but most of the people were ordinary to the point of looking out of place in the dark stronghold. He saw a lot more fur and leather than usual, in waistcoats, riding chaps, and even a few over-the-shoulder sashes, but most of The Heron’s clothes were dusty grey and draped and tied rather than buckled and buttoned. “So what about The Heron living on the topside? In Ketswitch and other places like it? Do they not get the choice to live here?”

             
“No.” Nivy sounded regretful as she answered from up ahead. “If all The Heron on Ismara suddenly disappeared…stopped working and providing resources for The Kreft…it would only be a matter of time before our location was pinpointed. Those on the topside keep up their act of normalcy to protect our operations. They can visit in small stints, seek medical attention or sanctuary if they’ve been targeted by a patrol, but the complex itself is usually limited to Heron who have an active hand in the rebellion. And their families.”

             
The way she said that last part—hesitantly, then trying for nonchalance—made Reece and Gideon exchange a look. Reece’s chest suddenly felt tight and swollen. He thought he knew the answer to his question, but he nonetheless had to ask, “Do
you
have family? Here?”

             
Nivy stopped at a crossroad between two bridges and made a fuss out of looking back and forth, stalling, from the looks of it. “My brother was killed on a mission nine years ago. But I have parents. You heard about them. Asa and Illie.”

             
One of the most beloved children of the rebellion—that’s what Eldritch had once called Nivy. Reece hadn’t even considered the possibility the old creature was being
literal,
but hadn’t Mose said Asa and Illie were two of The Six?

             
“It isn’t like that,” Nivy said suddenly, watching Reece. “I barely know them. Illie was a prisoner of war most of my life, and Asa…” She trailed off, distracted, but this time, it wasn’t an act. Reece followed her stare and saw a small cluster of Heron carrying a litter up the nearest ramp. A girl with wild blonde hair was with them, giving rapid-fire instructions in a voice that commanded deference.

             
“Scarlet,” Reece called in surprise. Mostly at the hair.

Scarlet looked up, and even in the grim shadows of the starry lights, he could see how chalky white she was, her gently scooping nose red-tipped from the cold. Someone had lent her a grey coat to cover up her bright green one, and even then, she was shivering.
“Reece,” she sighed, sounding relieved, and hurried over. “Thank goodness. They just showed up at the ship! I didn’t know what to do…they said Nivy had sent them but had no idea who you were, and—”

“
She tried to club me with an umbrella,” one of The Heron holding the litter complained.

“
Parasol
,” Scarlet corrected acidly. “Anyways, Hayden has been unconscious all night. He isn’t doing well, Reece. And what in the world happened to your
face
?”

“
Hospital wing,” Nivy said instantly, and Scarlet choked, startled. Nivy pointed her fellow Heron down a corridor and ordered in a low voice, “Get him there, fast. He’s a refugee brought from Orion if anyone asks. Give him anything he needs.”

             
She’d barely finished talking before her friends started off at a brisk, determined walk, holding the litter surprisingly steady. Reece could only see a slender slip of Hayden’s pale face, he was so buried under a mound of leather coats and fur mantles.

Gideon suddenly growled in the back of his throat before following through with a curse that made Mose jump so high, his hat fell over his eyes.
“Where’s Po?” he demanded.

             
Scarlet blinked, tearing her eyes off the backs of the disappearing Heron. “Why are you asking
me
? She went with you!”

             
“She went lookin’ for Nivy! She should’a ended up back at Aurelia!”

“
Maybe she did, after we had already gone.”

Gid cursed again, and Reece interpreted for Scarlet’s sake,
“She’s been gone since last night. She should have made it in plenty of time.” He turned to Nivy and Mose, who had started forlornly shaking his head. “What?”

             
Nivy shrugged, not uncaringly, but like she was at a loss for the first time since coming here, and didn’t like the sensation. “She might have been picked up by other rebels in Ketswitch. Maybe she got lost and stopped off at an inn. If there was a Kreft patrol last night…” She grimaced. “We have ways of finding out if the patrols picked anyone up after curfew.”

             
The worst part was…Reece didn’t think that was what she most afraid of. “So?” he prompted sharply.

             
She looked at him. “It snowed last night, Reece. Heavily. It’s hard to see more than three feet in front of you in blizzards out here. If she was still walking when it hit…”

             
She didn’t need to finish. Gideon was silent now, staring uncomprehendingly, like Nivy had spoken in Northern. Reece had to think he looked similar. The thought of Po in her happy red boots, wandering through a blizzard in the dark, blinded, alone,
freezing
…slowly realizing she was never going to make it to the cave and Aurelia…

             
Either Scarlet didn’t have as same morbid imagination as the rest of them, or she really was the bravest of them all, something Reece had suspected since the flooded changing room in Neserus, when she’d been prepared to let herself drown before taking him down with her. “We need to send out a patrol,” she said levelly. “They can divide and cover the ground between Ketswitch and the cave in pairs. Someone else can comb the town itself.”

             
“Mose,” said Nivy. The boy snapped to attention, thrusting his chin up importantly. “Go tell Illie what’s happened. Gather as many volunteers as you can on the way, so they’re ready to go when she gives permission to send them out.”

             
Reece nodded at Gideon as Mose took off down the ramp. “Go with him. You can track her from where you last saw her.”

He wasn’t a total ginghoo; he knew Gid would have gone anyways. But this way, they could skip the part where Gideon angrily insisted he was going whether or not Reece wanted him to, which he
did
. Gid not only had Reece’s blessing, but his trust that if anyone could find Po, he would.

             
For a second, Gid looked surprised, maybe even a little unsure of himself. He shifted his weight, touched his hip where his revolver should be. Then he gave Reece a short, grateful nod and tore after Mose.

             
It was nice to know after all his failures that Reece could still do some things—even just the little things—right.

             
“We need to hurry,” Nivy said, picking a bridge and storming across it so Reece and Scarlet had jog to catch up. “We won’t have long now before The Six send for us, and I don’t know what they’ll do with you when they do. Send you back to Honora, if we’re lucky.”