Abbee sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, with an even more uncomfortable set of heavy manacles attached to her wrists, and tried to ignore the first constable yelling at her. Ipsu never yelled. He was an expert with the silent treatment. Kril Danner had yelled. Big, deep, hateful roars that always ended with a punch or slap. Abbee hated it when anyone yelled at her. It made her feel small and stupid.

They were in Parn’s office in the Civic District. The room was big enough for three tall windows, a desk, two wide tables covered with paper, and a huge map of the city on one wall. A new map, with straight streets arranged in a grid. It didn’t look like Akken to Abbee. She found herself wishing for the old map and the old city, with its twisting roads and bent character. Abbee sat in her chair with her back to the door, which was flanked by two of the biggest constables she’d ever seen. Two more stood behind the desk. They all watched Abbee with impassive expressions. Hands on hilts.

“Are you listening to me?” Parn railed. “I can’t believe you tried to steal from a bank pickup cart.”

“What?” Abbee asked, her awareness coming back to her present circumstances. “I didn’t.”

“Everyone saw you do it. I give you a badge, and the first thing you do—”

“I only climbed on top of the cart to get away from that crowd—”

“You stabbed the drover.”

“To get him to stop throwing metal shards at me.”

“Because you attacked another guard,” Parn snapped.

“I told you already. He was wild and hitting pedestrians. Nobody was thinking clearly.”

“Especially you,” Parn snapped.

“C’mon, you have to know that it was Hoger. He made everyone mad at me. He—”

“Hoger’s a Class Three. Threes can do a handful of people. Not a crowd of fifty in an open street. Quit trying to make up your story on the fly.”

Abbee remembered the vial. “He drank something. Right before I got to him. I think it made him sick. It was in a little vial. He threw it away. If you look for—”

“For broken glass on an Akken street?” Parn asked. He pursed his lips. For a moment, he appeared to consider Abbee’s recollection. Gave a little headshake. He pointed at a stack of paper on one of the wide tables. “I have statements here from both constables and House soldiers, two groups that despise one another, who interviewed a hundred people. They all say that they saw you gut two bank guards.”

“In self-defense.”

Parn’s brows shot up. “You climbed up a bank pickup cart and buried two knives in a man’s stomach in self-defense?” He waved his hands. “I’m not having this argument with you again. Your story is thinner than the one you spun about Ipsu Billings.” Parn rubbed his eyes with one hand. “I can’t believe I bought that one. I could almost let that go, but you spun your tale for Whimsy. Got her involved with whatever it is you’re into. Almost got her killed. I can’t abide that.”

“What?” Abbee yelped. “Why would I make up—”

“I don’t care!” Parn snapped. “Nobody does. You’ve got no value, and it would’ve been better if you’d never set foot back in Akken.” Parn glowered at her. Got in close. “I looked you up, you know. I thought I recognized your name. Danner. I knew your father. Kril was a piece of work. Randall had a soft spot for bad apples like you. You’re just like your old man. You’re—”

Rage flashed through Abbee like a runaway continental. With a screech, she launched herself from her chair at Parn. Brought her hands up. She meant to push him, but Parn was too close. Abbee caught him in the chin with her manacles. Metal struck bone. Parn’s head snapped back, and he crumpled to the floor.

The two constables near the window rushed forward. Abbee heard footsteps over her shoulder. Someone grabbed her from behind. The room spun, and her face hit the ground, hard. Someone landed on her back, and her breath whooshed out. A big, meaty fist grabbed her neck. The floor fell away from her. Came rushing back. Abbee hit it again with her nose and forehead. She heard the crunch of her nose breaking, and she blacked out.

***

When Abbee came to, she was somewhere else. Somewhere moving. A cart, maybe. She felt the bumps and heard turning wheels. She lay on her side. Her hands were bound behind her back. Still had the manacles on, felt like. Abbee couldn’t see. Scratchy cloth rubbed her face. A bag. She had a bag on her head. Her wrists itched.

Her nose was full of something, and she had to breathe through her mouth. Abbee sniffed to clear her nose. A thick, wet chunk of phlegm popped out and lodged in her throat. Tasted metallic. She coughed and hacked on bloody phlegm, so hard she got light-headed, but after one last cough, her nose and throat were clear.

But now the inside of the bag was wet, and it touched her face. Abbee tried to position her neck so the damp didn’t touch her skin, but every bump brought an unpleasant cold tap to her cheek.

“Hello?” Abbee asked.

No answer. Conscious of her manacled hands and wrists, Abbee scooted about on her side, trying to find the edges of this moving space. She found the walls. Rough wooden floor and rough wooden walls, only a couple of meters wide. She pushed herself up onto her knees. Tried to stand but hit the roof of the cart. No light, and manacled hands made keeping her balance in the moving cart hard. The back of the cart was about three meters long. Nobody touched her or told her to stop moving. She was alone in here.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Abbee shifted her head and caught a sliver of light through the bag’s threads. She froze, peering through the damp cloth. She got back down on her knees, then her side. Moved around, trying to find that spot of light. There. Abbee saw rough pine boards and light beyond. A crack between the boards. She saw the ground, moving underneath her, about a meter down. Cobblestones. She put her ear to the floorboards and heard the scrape of the wheels on stone. The creak of the axle. She couldn’t tell where the cart was or who was driving it.

The cart made a sharp turn, and the sound of the ground changed. Abbee peered through the crack in the floorboards and saw packed dirt with random rocks. A dirt road. Lots of bumps. Abbee wondered where there was a dirt road in Akken. The city was basically brand new. There shouldn’t be any dirt roads in it.

Voices. Men calling to one another. Abbee strained to hear through the crack in the floorboards.

“What’s with the extra drop?” a man asked. “You were just here this morning.”

“Got another one for you,” someone else called, their voice reverberating through the cart. The drover. “Special delivery. Be careful with this one. She almost killed the first constable.”

“The first constable, eh?”

“Yeah, he’s lucky to be alive, or so I hear. Had a healer nearby, and they stitched him back together. We were told to keep the guards out of the cart on the way over here—for our own safety.”

Abbee didn’t think she’d hit Parn that hard. And it had been an accident. She doubted anyone would listen to her on that score, though. It seemed she was well past that. Abbee wondered if the healer had been Whimsy.

“Who is it?”

“No idea. I overheard ‘hired to fired in a single morning’ or something like that. Dunno what that’s about, but there was some sort of riot down in the Yard District, and this one caused it. Killed two bank guards and tried to steal a pickup cart. She’s bound and bagged, but I wouldn’t take any chances if I were you.”

Abbee felt another stab of anger at the lie, and that it was getting spread around to a bunch of people she didn’t even know. More shouting. Abbee heard many footsteps on the ground. She guessed at least five, maybe six people gathering at the back of the cart. Heard the creak of leather and blades sliding from sheaths. Abbee wrestled herself into a crouch and put her back to the side of the cart for stability. She wasn’t going lying down.

“Open it,” someone ordered.

Several heavy pins slid aside on the back of the cart, and the door opened. Abbee saw a rectangle of light through the bag’s threads. She felt bands of pressure all over her body, and she popped up off the floor. A mover. They had a mover. Her orientation changed, rotating, as the mover pulled her out of the cart. Daylight shone through the bag. Abbee thought she registered ground and a wide horizon before people surrounded her. Dark clothing. She couldn’t make out their faces through the bag.

“I got her,” a man said. “Let’s go.”

Light flickered through the bag, and a breeze rustled Abbee’s skin. She was moving. Sensed the ground gliding beneath her. “Where am I? Where are you taking me?”

A chuckle. “You’ll see. Shut up.”

Abbee heard the ground change beneath the footsteps of her captors, from dirt to wood. She bobbled in the mover’s grip.

“Ready to descend?” someone called nearby.

“Ready,” another answered.

“Descending.”

Abbee felt a lurch in her stomach. She peered through the hood and saw nothing but darkness. A crisp wind picked at her clothes. Birds shrieked somewhere close.

“I hate this part,” a man muttered.

“Hold,” a voice called, now above Abbee.

She bobbled in the air again. She heard footsteps and leather creaking and grunts. She was moving again. The light through the bag changed. The wind died down, and the air changed from fresh to dank. Smelled like a cave.

“Stop here,” a man said. “Gotta give her the first-day water ration.”

A hand pulled up Abbee’s hood to her nose. Pinched her nostrils shut. Abbee opened her mouth to breathe and felt liquid pour in. She choked and gagged. More liquid splashed her mouth and face. Tasted like water. She tried to spit it out, but something jammed her mouth shut. She barely avoided biting her tongue.

“Swallow,” a man commanded. “Swallow, and you can breathe again.”

Abbee struggled to get away, but between the big hands and the mover, she was stuck. She couldn’t survive without air. She swallowed.

The hands left her face. Someone pulled her hood down. Abbee sensed she was moving again. “Where am I?”

Dark chuckles. “You’ll see soon enough. Just you wait.”

They continued on in silence for several long minutes. Abbee tried to focus on the details around her instead of the fears clamoring for purchase in her mind. Focused on the air passing through the bag and touching the cold droplets on her face. The scents on the air became foul and rank. Unwashed bodies and open sewers. She tried to count the turns and stairs but lost track. Wherever they were, it was underground, and it was big.

“Ho!” came a call from somewhere up ahead. “What’s this?”

“Special delivery,” one of Abbee’s captors replied.

“Must be special—there’s six of you.”

“I heard that she almost decapitated the first constable.”

“Almost … Wait, she?”

“That’s right. She’s—”

“You’re in the wrong wing, Crom. This is—”

The bands of pressure holding Abbee evaporated, and she thumped onto the floor. She felt hands on her.

“It’s a special-delivery bonus,” Crom said. “Nobody’s watching. We get to have some fun with her first.”

Abbee didn’t like where his hands were going. She spun on the floor, sweeping her legs around. Caught someone. They yelped. She felt them thump into the floor beside her. Abbee brought her heel back and struck out as hard as she could. Caught something and both heard and felt a satisfying crunch. The yelp turned into a pained cry.

Something hard slammed into her shoulder. Abbee tucked her head and rolled away from it. More strikes to her back, side, and hips. Kicks. She was getting kicked. Abbee folded herself into a ball and struggled to get away. Something hit her manacled wrists. Bone snapped, and pain ripped up her arm. She tried not to scream—she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction—but a pitiful whine escaped her throat anyway. The kicks kept coming.

“That bitch broke by doze,” Crom gasped. “She broke by doze.”

Abbee felt something lift her by her manacles. By her broken wrist. She howled in pain. She felt pressure on her, and her manacles fell away, clanking onto the floor.

“Why’d you take those off?” one of them asked.

“Can’t give ’em any weapons,” another said, “when I do this.”

Her hood left her head. Abbee blinked at her surroundings but only caught a glimpse of three men in black uniforms before one of them kicked her in the stomach. She tipped backward. Her feet left the ground. The ceiling fell away from her. Wind whooshed past her ears. She saw rough stone wall and the uniformed men above her.

I’m falling. I’m—

She smashed into something hard with her shoulder, hip, arms, and legs. She somehow managed to protect her broken wrist, but Abbee still screamed in pain from the shock of impact. She turned on her side and looked up. She was in a wide pit. The only illumination came from the torches at the top, four meters away.

Abbee heard movement in the shadows. She strained to see. Her eyes adjusted to the light. She saw filthy faces in the gloom. Men. They were all around her. Hungry grins peeled back dirty lips. Abbee looked up at the guards overhead. They all smirked down at her, even the one with the busted nose. The one on the right chuckled, a short, nasty sound.

“Welcome to Graywall.”