There are but five gods of New Pharos: The Mother, the Father, and their Children. This was not always so. The Divine, in their countless number, once walked this earth. Their footsteps were heard in the patter of rain, the storming of hooves, the roar of thunder. Their blood was the rivers and their eyes the sun.
— from The Annals of The Fall, Chapter I, Part I
----------------------------------------
Tetra waited impatiently, her fingers drumming against the hard leather of her armour. Aurelius was taking a while.
She didn’t use to be impatient. All she used to do was wait. But ever since emerging into New Pharos, that had changed. There was just so much to do! So many sights and sounds and smells. And the food! She had not known so many foods could even exist. Yesterday she had tried squab for the first time, fried with leeks and potatoes by the street vendor before her eyes. It had been so good she had gone back three more times that afternoon.
The citizens themselves were perhaps not so varied, at least in appearance. Gloomgate was one of the poorest wards of New Pharos, made almost entirely of people displaced by the development of the titanic factories that dominated the nearby ward fittingly titled "The Heart". The world was dark here, so close to the surface, and the people's splotchy, pale skin reflected that fact. They bustled about in almost uniform leather long coats, pulled tight to protect against the unpredictable bursts of murky rainwater that spattered down from the city above. They reminded Tetra of the ants she used to watch for hours in the corner of her room—always moving along their set streets and paths. Possessing no value other than what they supplied to the whole.
Tetra, on the other hand, was very clearly not of Gloomgate. She was never seen without her armour, a mismatched stitch of leathers, metals, and other, unidentified materials. The left side of her head was shaved to the scalp, her long brown hair pulled into a low braid on her right to accentuate this fact. This was clearly done to reveal the first of three intricate tattooed symbols; one on her head, one on her shoulder, and the last on her forearm. She had taken great pains to ensure her armour did not cover those sections. A rifle and spear, wrapped in leathers to protect them from the wet, hung from her back. But it was not the weapons that drew furtive glances. It was her eyes. Her metallic silver irises almost seemed to shine in the dull runelight that illuminated the cramped streets. If she had been watching the people that passed her by, she would observe near constant stolen looks as pedestrians sized her up. She didn't notice them though. She was too busy, lost in daydream.
She had seen so much, and according to Aurelius, this was only a small part of everything.
She cast her eyes upward. It was daytime, according to the great steam clock that rung out every hour throughout the streets of Gloomgate, but you would not be able to tell otherwise. The suns never reached down here, blocked by the thousands of bridges, pipes, towers—infrastructure, Aurelius had called it. Somewhere up there lay the Upper City. It was supposed to be dazzling, clean streets of marble that dappled and shone, their world lit by two massive lamp-things called suns. They hung up there, suspended in the sky, lighting the entire world.
She longed to see it. To hop aboard the arcano-rail and take it all the way up. To live among the high class and see how they prepared rat and pigeon and weevil…
“If you don’t answer me soon, I’m keeping your money.”
Tetra startled out of her own thoughts. Aurelius was standing in front of her, wearing his signature combination of dark leather duster, tinted goggles, and a wide brim hat he kept pulled low over his face. All to conceal his skin, which was a deep, crimson red. His face was scrunched into its normal position: One of mild annoyance.
“Hello? Tetra?” He waved one hand in front of her face.
“Ah. Yes! Apologies. I will take my money.” She fixed him with a beaming smile and outstretched her hand.
Aurelius sighed and tossed a small wad of paper which Tetra snatched out of the air. “200 denarii. Try not to spend it all on pigeon this time.”
“200? I thought we were to be paid one thousand?”
“Cadonis agreed to a thousand if we brought Barker back alive. You’re lucky we got this much.”
Tetra’s mouth set in a hard line. “He was a slaver.”
Aurelius had already turned away, starting the trek back to the dingy apartment they currently called their home. “Yeah well, that’d be the cost of having morals, I guess. Best get used to it.”
Aurelius could hear Tetra grumbling to herself as she caught up. He honestly wasn’t that choked that their mark had ended up with one too many bullets in his neck. Tetra wasn’t wrong, the man had been… unpleasant. He could have done without the lecture from Cadonis though. That man was harrowing enough to be around when he was in a good mood.
“You will find me my cargo, Mr. Spark., Cadonis’ voice slithered through his memory, “And Ms. Panikia-Tria will not damage it in any way. For both of your sakes. Understood?”
Aurelius Shivered. He pulled out the typewritten report as they walked, gloomily flipping through it.
“So!” Tetra’s face leaned over his shoulder “What are we to be assigned next?”
“A retrieval mission. Apparently, one of Cadonis’ crew lost something down in the Old City.”
Tetra gasped “Yes! I am very good in the Old City. Did you tell him that? Is that why he offered us this?”
“I think he knows, Tetra.” Memories of his partner excitedly listing off her skills to the reptilian man floated through his mind. He shuddered.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
“But wait," she said, "if his own men were already transporting, then why does he have need of us?”
Aurelius shook his head. “There’s a lot he’s not telling us about this one. He doesn’t even want us to carry this…” he checked the report “6 x 4-foot ornate chest back. He just wants us to escort a team, then leave.”
Tetra thought for a moment. “He doesn’t want us to know what is in the box,” she declared.
“Well hey look at you. You’re starting to get it.”
Tetra beamed at him. “I told you; I know many things.”
Aurelius smirked. “Oh really? Is that why yesterday you…” his face dropped. “Ah, hells.”
Two of the New Pharos Guard had appeared, their blue coats standing out like flares against the sea of rusted browns that adorned the citizens of Gloomgate. Tetra leaned down to his ear. "Is this an issue?"
"Only if they spot me."
"Would you like me to kill them?"
"Please do not do that."
"Well, what is it you wish me to do then?"
"Just keep looking forward. Don't worry, I blend in fairly well. As long as they don't—"
"Hey! Citizen!"
"—Shit." Aurelius turned around, forcing a smile on to his face. "Yes, officers?"
There were two of them approaching. A beefy woman, her skin splotched with grey, stood beside her partner, a smaller, needle-eyed man. The woman met Aurelius' goggled gaze. "Name."
Aurelius swallowed. "Aurelius Spark, ma'am."
"And I," Tetra started forward, beaming, "am Tetrakoshka Pani-"
"I don't remember askin'." the woman interrupted, glaring. Her gaze turned back to Aurelius. Or rather, the crimson skin visible beneath his goggles, red like fire. "You hexblood, citizen?"
"No ma'am."
"You have ID provin' that?"
Aurelius reached for his pockets, and the two officers instantly stiffened up, their hands shooting to the pistols resting at their side. Aurelius held his hands up. "I am just grabbing my identification," he said, slowly. "It is inside my breast pocket. May I reach for it?"
The women nodded slowly, her eyes tracking his hand’s every movement. Five above, Aurelius thought to himself, please don't let them notice the revolver. He thanked The Mother that it was concealed the way it was, a jet black .42 resting in its holster by his side.
Gingerly, using just two fingers, he pulled the small, yellowed parchment card out of his pocket and handed it over. Needle-eyes grabbed it and very, very carefully looked it over, his gaze examining every line, every letter, looking for anything out of place. Aurelius felt a bead of sweat start to trickle down the side of his head. He dared not wipe it away, lest the very action draw attention to it. Finally, the man spoke.
"Grew up next to The Spine, did ya boy?"
"Yes sir."
"Born during a Weirding?"
"That is correct, sir."
The man gave him a thin smile as he handed him the ID card back. "Sorry about the confusion son. You may go."
Aurelius wordlessly took it back, carefully tucking it into his pocket. He nodded once to the two of them before turning on his heels and walking slowly but purposely away. Tetra spared a quick glare at them before hurrying after him.
"How many times do you think that's going to work?" She asked once they were well out of sight.
Aurelius let out a strained sigh. "Hopefully as many times as I need it to. There's no chance I'm getting it properly."
"You have that much faith in—how do you call it—a forgery?"
"Well, I better. It was written by the smartest person I know."
Tetra furrowed her brow. "I thought you were the one to write it?"
Aurelius winked at her and kept walking.
"Oh. I understand" Tetra said flatly. "And your humility is clearly just as grand."
Aurelius turned to her. "Tetra" He said, "was that sarcasm?"
Her face broke out in a smile. "It was! Did I use it right?"
Despite himself, Aurelius couldn't help but smile with her. "Yes, I suppose you did."
"Let us go" Tetra said, turning away from him. "I have denarii and I wish to spend!"
"If you're headed for a public house again, please use the one on 9th. It's—"
But she was already gone. "—actually cleaned." he finished, to nobody in particular. Above him, the steam whistles blew their cacophonous announcement that it was noon. Not that you could tell.
The trek back to their apartment was uneventful. With Tetra gone, he had ceased paying as much attention to those around him, deep in thought as he moved with the mass of people down St. Trevor's. Around him, trams hissed as their doors opened and closed, taking people back home or down, deeper into the center of the city. There was a reason this collection of wards was known as The Arteries. The streets never stopped flowing with people all headed one way or another, like tiny blood cells keeping the mighty goliath of New Pharos alive. Aurelius peered down as he crossed Aram's Bridge. Beneath him stretched the latticework of massive pipes and factories that formed The Heart. It pulsated with steam and arcanic energy, as it did at all hours, a hundred thousand machines and people working in consort to power the city. Each hammer fall, each piston, each grinding gear formed together into a deep, thundering rumble that travelled up his feet. The heartbeat of New Pharos. He stared up at the dark mess of pipelines and walkways, covered in signs and ads in a half dozen different languages, towards the Upper City where it all flowed. To the ivory towers of the Sorlisad Assembly, or the great sky-fleets of the Mercatore. All for them, he thought bitterly. "Enjoy it, you assholes" he muttered upwards, then continued on.
It was just a block away from the apartment when he started to hear the chanting. It was the sound of hundreds of people yelling in hap hazard unison, their voices rendered indistinguishable by the clamour of the city. A sinking feeling began in Aurelius’ gut. He really hoped this wasn't what he thought it was. He rounded the corner, and his eyes took in Penelope Square. Normally, the square was nearly deserted—occupied only by the odd figure on his lunch break, or a tram trundling through. Today, however, it was absolutely choked with textile workers. Signs, most of them written so poorly they were almost incomprehensible, were held aloft above the stocky, roaring workers that populated the area. Aurelius' heart sunk. He could see his apartment, nestled up close to the metal and stone walls of the factory itself, but between him and it was the impassable sea of a full-on strike. He felt for the float stones contained in one of the many pouches inside his duster and briefly considered sending himself hurtling over their heads, before remembering the two officers. He had had enough attention for the day. Instead, he sighed, braced, and started the long and arduous task of pushing himself, one foot at a time, through the crowd.