Bluewing (19 page)

Gabe’s lips tightened, but he didn’t argue with me. He didn’t say anything at all.

“I have to go,” I said. “I have to get Adam back.”

In the end, they had no argument for that.

~

The next morning, Korr and I stood shoulder to shoulder on a plain of ice, facing the Aeralian border. The train tracks stretched past, an ugly laceration stitched across the snow.

I was shivering, but not from the cold.

“Remember,” Korr said. “The trains decrease their speed because of the curve. They’ll be moving slow enough for us to grab hold and jump on, if we do it right.”

I ran my tongue across my teeth and resisted the urge to fidget. Anxiety gnawed at me like a rat in my belly.

“Stay calm and focused, and you’ll be fine.”

It was the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. I gave him a look, but he was staring down the track.

“Here it comes.”

The train throttled toward us, a smoking steel snake with a clanging cry. The ground rumbled beneath our boots. My hands tingled. My throat and lungs were so tight I couldn’t get a deep breath. The train rushed past, a blur of black, but it was slowing. The chug matched my heartbeat, and then and then and then—

“Grab hold!” Korr bellowed, and we were running, scrambling, our hands catching on any surface where they could find purchase. Korr hooked his arm around the edge of a boxcar door and hauled himself up. I grabbed on and dangled a moment, my feet hanging as the track blurred below and my stomach seemed to turn itself inside out. The train shuddered and rattled and tried to shake me off. My heartbeat blended with the sound of the wheels.

Then, Korr reached down and yanked me into the car.

I collapsed against the gritty metal and shuddered. We’d done it.

Through the open door, white fields and straggling fences flew past. I caught snatches of the Frost before it fell away as we turned, heading for Astralux to the south. The horizon was just a black smudge that grew larger and longer until it swallowed us, and we were in the Aeralian plains. Now the ground below was wet and muddy, filled with half-cut stalks and the occasional dirt road that curved away into the distance.

“It will be half an hour before we reach Astralux,” Korr said. “Get some rest.”

He settled himself against the wall at one end of the car, leaving me the other. I made a pillow out of a sack of grain and tried to sleep. Soon the rhythmic rushing of the car had lulled me into a fitful slumber, but I woke every time the train jolted. I watched through half-closed eyes as we passed from the Aeralian plains to a hilly country shrouded in mist. Finally, through the gloom, I saw the city.

Astralux.

Black metal towers pierced the sky above Aeralis’s capital, and lights glimmered like fireflies atop poles along the streets and bridges and tops of the buildings. Shapes rose from the mist that cloaked the city—domes, spires, clock towers. Airships filled the sky and dotted the ground with shadows. Everything looked grim and cold and dark, but in a harsh and beautiful way that surprised me. As the train rushed across a bridge and into the city, I caught sight of clouded glass and a burst of verdure. A greenhouse.

I breathed out in astonishment.

“Is it what you were expecting?” Korr asked, a light of interest in his eyes as he studied my reaction to the sights around me.

“Not really.” I didn’t elaborate.

The train rushed through the city on a track that ran high above the slums. Shadows covered us and whirled away like birds, making masks of light and dark across the planes of Korr’s face. I studied him while he gazed at the city, and I wondered. He looked so much like Gabe sometimes, but other times, when he was still and serious and intense, he was something else entirely.

He turned his head and caught me watching, and our eyes held for a moment. I was the first to look away.

The train shuddered as it pulled into the yard, and we began to pass between dozens of other cars surrounded by rows and rows of tracks. The wheels below us clacked and rumbled as the train’s speed decreased. I saw a patch of gray sky, rusted walls, a few workers scrambling like rats up and down ladders in the distance. Close by, a whistle screamed.

“Move on my command. Follow me, keep your head low, and don’t attract any attention,” Korr said.

I shifted into a crouching position beside the door. The train slowed enough that I could see the texture of the gravel below.

“Now,” Korr said.

We crossed the tracks at a run, ducking from one stationary car to the next, wriggling between the couplings and then running through cold empty space and scraping past chilled metal again. Rust rubbed onto the shoulder of my cloak. My knuckles scraped something sharp and began to bleed. My chest ached from running so hard and fast, but I didn’t stop.

We reached the end of the yard. Korr led me into a tunnel. I bumped against him in the dark, and one of his slender, gloved hands shot out to steer me away. We reached a corner and light blinded me. I blinked.

“This way,” Korr said.

We stepped into an alley. Metal walls dripping with moisture stretched up hundreds of feet above our heads where the sky was just a thin gray line. Machinery purred in the distance, low and thrumming. I smelled the mingled odor of garbage and flowers. Gray-white shirts hung drying on a rope strung between the walls.

Korr turned left, and I followed. Shadows streaked overhead as airships passed by. We reached the end of the alley, and he stopped again.

“Stay close to me. The city streets are busy, and I won’t look back.” He produced a hat from the pocket of his cloak. He pulled it over his face and hair, then plunged forward into the city traffic.

I jogged to keep up. Carriages and steam-powered vehicles rumbled past. I resisted the urge to shrink back from the noise and bustle as I shoved through the crowd after Korr, who had his head down and his face covered by the brim of his hat.

The people around us wore long coats of gray and black and glossy brown fur. Everyone seemed to be wearing gloves. Hats with feathers, flowers, and veils covered haughty faces.

A fine layer of soot lay over everything and soon began to collect on the ends of my fingers and on my hair. I supposed this was the reason why everyone wore gloves, coats, and hats, for it was not very cold.

We reached an intersection. Korr glanced over his shoulder once to see if I was still following before he crossed the street amid a throng of people. When we’d reached the other side, he entered another alley, this one wider and cleaner than the one before. Pathways of wrought iron arched overhead, and I heard the sound of trickling water from a fountain.

Korr stopped at a door and produced a key from his pocket.

“Is this the prison?” I asked, astonished.

He laughed aloud, startled. “No. This is the back door to my home.”

He let us in and turned on the gaslight. We appeared to be in a basement of some sort. Boxes and barrels piled high against one wall. Straw covered the stone floor in clumps.

“You can change here,” Korr said. “What you’re wearing now will only attract undue attention at the prison.” He opened one of the barrels and produced a stack of clothing. “Here. These were Ann’s while she was here. They should fit you.”

I took the clothing and stepped into an alcove beyond the boxes. “Turn around.”

Korr made an impatient noise that probably was supposed to convey his decided disinterest in seeing me undress, but he did as I asked. I stripped out of my ragged woolen dress, stockings, and cloak and put on a crisp cotton pair of pantaloons, a blouse, and a strange parted skirt. They didn’t quite fit me, because I wasn’t as curvy as Ann.

“Done?” Korr asked, looking over his shoulder. He grimaced. “They look ghastly on you, but it’ll have to do.”

I scowled at him and accepted the coat, gloves, and hat that he shoved my way. I couldn’t care less what he thought of my appearance, but he didn’t have to be such a complete ass about it. We were allies at the moment, weren’t we?

“Come on,” he said, and I followed him up a spiral set of stairs.

The rest of the house was a blur of shining tiled floors, potted trees, stained glass ceilings, and a massive clock covering one wall that clanged the hour loudly as we passed. Korr ducked into a study and emerged a few moments later, dressed in full Aeralian fashion—a long coat and a new hat, this one studded with buttons. His gloves were jet-black and the fingers were tipped with metal.

He motioned for me to follow him down a long hall. We reached the foyer and stopped at the front door, an opulent carved thing set with glass. He put his hand on the knob and turned to me.

“Don’t say anything at the prison,” he said. “I’ll need your help once we find Brewer, but let me do all the talking when we first get in. I am there to interrogate him and you are my assistant. Understood?”

“Fine,” I said.

He opened the door and we went out.

The front of Korr’s house looked out over a wide boulevard. Steam carriages and trolleys rushed past. People in long black coats strolled along wide sidewalks. In the distance, I saw a cluster of towers surrounded by a forest of metal. It reminded me of the new walls around Iceliss.

“What is that?” I asked, nodding at it.

“The palace,” Korr said shortly, as if he were loath to say any more on the subject.

Was that where Gabe had once lived? I wondered.

He led me down a flight of steps to a waiting steamcoach. We climbed in and sank onto plush red seats, and Korr gave the order for the driver to go. I braced myself for the lurch, and then we were moving, not as fast as the train, but still faster than I was accustomed to. I peered out the window and saw more mansions of steel and glass slipping past.

Korr sat motionless across from me, a breathing statue clad in silk and velvet. His mouth was pressed in a thin line. His eyes were watchful, black as two river stones.

The city around us gradually grew grittier. We descended through a cloud of mist to a lower level where the sun barely reached, and here our way was lit by the gleam of streetlamps that flickered feebly. I smelled sewage and rot. The chug of machinery was loudest here, and I saw no more glittering glass. Everything was rusted metal or crumbling brick.

Finally, the steamcoach stopped.

I climbed out behind Korr and raised my eyes to view the prison. It was tall and square and built of thick gray brick that looked like gravestones. A sign above the door proclaimed it Prison No. 23.

I wondered just how many prisons they had in this city.

“Hold this, assistant,” Korr said, and shoved a metal box at me. I grunted as I took it in my arms; it was heavy.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Never mind that.” He strode toward the prison, leaving me to follow.

The door swung open on its own before us, worked by some mechanical means. Two soldiers guarded it. Their eyes stared straight ahead as we passed.

Our boots rang on the metal floor. My hands were clammy, and my stomach twisted. I kept my face neutral and my eyes fixed on the place between Korr’s shoulders.

Korr drew himself up to his full height and stalked across the floor of the room. He halted before a window that separated the main room from the jailer’s study.

Through the window, I saw a man at a desk, nearly buried by a pile of papers. His ghoulish eyes sunk into pockets of flesh that spoke of sleepless nights and too much weak light.

“Have you got an appointment?” he said without looking up at us.

When Korr spoke, his voice was cold and sharp as a blade dipped in ice water. “No, I haven’t. And if you keep me waiting any longer, you’ll regret it.”

The jailer raised his head and started at the sight of the nobleman in his long black cloak. “I’m sorry, your lordship,” he murmured. “We get mostly family members come to plead their relatives’ innocence, not many Black Hands, sir—”

“Skip to the end of this obnoxious explanation and direct me to the proper cell,” Korr said, murderously calm.

“N-name of the prisoner?”

“Adam Brewer. And hurry, I haven’t got all day.”

The man consulted a book. “Brewer,” he read. “Imprisoned for crimes against Aeralis and against His Eminence. He has no visitation rights.”

“Interrogation,” Korr corrected.

The man’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Do you have the proper authorization?”

Korr opened his coat and pulled out a paper. He handed it to the clerk, whose eyes widened even further.

“Your-your lordship,” he stammered. “I didn’t know—”

“I trust you can direct me immediately.”

“The guard will take you where you need to go.”

One of the guards stirred to life.

We followed the gray-uniformed guard down a hall lined with metal doors. Behind some of them came the echo of muttering and coughing. We stopped at an intersection, and faintly, I heard the sound of weeping. A shiver crawled up my spine. If I was ever apprehended by Officer Raine and sent away, would I end up in a place like this?

Korr seemed utterly calm, but my stomach was flopping like a dying fish and my veins felt filled with ice. Would they suspect anything? If we were found out, what would happen to us? Surely Korr would throw me to the wolves to protect himself.

The guard stopped before a door and inserted a key in the lock. My heart jumped at the click. The door swung open to reveal a narrow room with a single barred window. Metal rings lined the wall, and a string of chains dangled from one, unattached to anything. A chair and cot sat in one corner, and on the cot lay a figure, his hands folded behind his head and his legs propped against the wall.

“Brewer,” the guard said flatly.

“I won’t tell you anything,” Adam said without looking at us, in a tone that bordered on weary annoyance.

The sound of his voice filled me with something wild and fierce. I bit my lip to keep from making a sound as a rush of warmth surged through my chest and overflowed into my limbs. He was alive and well enough to speak. He was unbroken in both body and will. I wanted to weep, as ridiculous as the notion was.

“We’ll see about that,” Korr said.