Matabar

Book II. Chapter 63 - Underground trams

Chapter 63

Standing before the door, still out on the landing, Ardi quietly removed his boots. He didn’t want the clack of his heels to distract Tess. Brushing the unwelcome stowaways (the plump raindrops) off his coat, Ardan turned the handle, which protested with a reluctant creak. He kept forgetting to oil it…

Fortunately, his fiancée hadn’t heard his unceremonious entry. Still moving with the same careful silence, he set his shoes on the rack and hung his coat on a hook. After propping his staff against the wall, he began moving just as Ergar had taught him, shifting his weight from the outside of his right foot inward and rolling it from toe to heel. He slipped noiselessly along the wall, leaving the corridor and heading into the living room, which offered a clear view of the kitchen.

Trying not to interrupt, Ardi settled into a chair and watched the enchanting red-haired girl with a smile. Her hair was wound in a tight bun cinched with a broad ribbon, and she flitted between the cabinets, the stove, and the counter, humming a simple little rhythm under her breath. Her apron was white with flour, and on the countertop, blueberry jam oozed down the sides of a glass jar. The young woman danced, opening one cabinet and closing another with nimble grace, then sprinkling something into a skillet while somehow simultaneously chopping, peeling and washing ingredients for a meat salad.

Ardi smiled. Tess, absorbed in her tasks and the song she was dancing to, didn’t notice him at all. And Ardan… Ardan was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that a little more than a week ago, he had seen this same girl… not wearing an apron and house dress, and not in a kitchen, but up on one of the Empire’s grandest stages. And yet, whether she was here or there, Tess always seemed to be utterly in her element, perfectly at home, and… Ardi found it hard to put that feeling into words.

Paradoxical as it may have seemed, neither the Fae tongue nor the language of beasts—it was even less so—was well-suited to describing one’s own emotions. And so Ardan had to strain to even understand what he felt, let alone put it into words.

“Mmhmm-hmmm-hmm,” Tess hummed, and with a twirl on her toes—the skirt of her dress flaring out like a bell—she came to a sudden stop.

Their gazes met on the threshold between kitchen and living room. Green eyes and amber eyes. They were so different, yet equally bright, lit by something mutual. Something one can only attempt to describe, and for which no single word—however apt—would ever suffice.

“Have you been sitting here long?” Tess asked in a deliberately serious and mock-annoyed tone.

“Only a couple of hours,” Ardan lied without a hint of shame.

“Oh, a couple of hours…?” Tess echoed, arching an eyebrow.

In a flash, Tess lunged to the side, grabbed a whole handful of flour, and flung it at Ardi. In a normal-sized apartment, all she would have accomplished was dusting the floor and walls with flour. But since they lived in a very small, if cozy, place, well…

Ardan spat and wiped his face, looking at Tess, who was doubled over laughing, and then gave her a broad grin. Coughing up some flour, he cupped his hands together, whispered a few words into them, and blew out sharply. The young man’s breath fell onto his palms as downy snowflakes, which he instantly clumped into a loose, almost weightless snowball and tossed at the gleeful Tess.

“Cold!” She squealed through her laughter, brushing her damp shoulder and face free of the clingy, many-pointed crystals.

Tess had already reached to grab more flour, but Ardi leaped toward his bride and gently scooped her up by the waist, tossing her lightly upward before catching her in an embrace.

Laughing, the girl ruffled his hair with her floury hands, and Ardi… looked up at the little flame he held above the floor. His flame. And perhaps, no matter what happened in the Metropolis, no matter how brutal the days got or how often those days tried to take a bloody bite out of him… as long as he could breathe in the scent of spring flowers blooming by a stream, he could handle anything.

“Please set me back on the ground, Ardi-the-wizard,” Tess said, still giggling as she gave his nose a playful flick.

Ardan, albeit reluctantly, relaxed his arms and caught the girl by the waist a split second before her heels touched the floor, then lowered her just as gently as before.

“What are we celebrating?” Ard asked.

In response, Tess placed his left hand on her waist and took his right hand like she was starting a dance. And then they began to spin around, accompanied by the simple little tune she was humming. Both of them were dusted with flour and snow, barefoot on the cold floor (the heat still hadn’t been turned on because Arkar just couldn’t seem to get around to it). It wasn’t critical yet, but in another ten days or so, the windows would start frosting over at night.

Autumn in the Metropolis had the odd habit of inviting winter to stay over barely a month into its rule.

“I quit my job at the atelier,” Tess answered him, interrupting her humming but still twirling with Ard in their small, yet oh-so-cozy living room. “We signed a contract with Belsky.”

It didn’t escape Ard’s notice that Tess, who was normally so polite, had omitted the “Mister” when referring to the Dandy.

“Now the whole band will be getting salaries,” the girl continued. “Plus a percentage of the ticket sales. But! That’s not what we’re celebrating at all!”

Ard also noticed that Tess hadn’t mentioned how much she’d be making with that contract. And that could only mean one thing… In order to avoid being plagued by the admonitions of the old hunters that might end up gnawing at his mind and soul—and to remain a provider rather than a burden—Ardi would have to step up his efforts significantly.

Maybe it was foolish, maybe even completely out of place, but such was the dream of the Sleeping Spirits.

“Then what are we celebrating?” Ardan asked, setting those thoughts aside for tomorrow and burying his face in her fiery hair.

“Belsky invited none other than Mr. Marnakov from the Holy Empress Theater!”

“Aaaah… Well, if it’s Marnakov…” Ardan drawled with feigned comprehension.

“You uncultured lout,” Tess laughed, not truly offended. “He’s one of the leading theater directors of our time! And he’s coming to the Baliero Concert Hall! He’ll be staging Death of the King with us. You’ve heard of that, at least?”

“That the one where they show the final battle between Ectassus and Gales?”

“Thank the Light! I’m not marrying a complete barbarian after all!” Tess stood on tiptoe and pulled Ardi down into a kiss.

Ardan slid the hand on her waist a little lower, and drew his right arm, which was still clasping Tess’ hand, behind her back.

“The premiere’s scheduled for Congress Day, and the auditions are just a few weeks away,” Tess said, slipping her free hand under the edge of his shirt and, after tugging it out from his belt, lightly brushed her fingers against his skin. “My pie dough will be rising soon…”

But by then, neither of them was listening to reason, nor to the endless rain drumming on the long-suffering eaves. Nothing but the beating of their hearts and the soft, urgent heat of their breathing mattered right then.

They had to mix a new batch of dough for the pie that evening, and Ardi helped make it with his characteristic wholehearted dedication.

***

“It feels so strange,” Tess said, lying with her cheek on his chest.

The autumn sun was struggling lazily through the thick clouds that covered the spires of Old Town like a damp, moth-eaten quilt, and it glittered on Tess’ skin. Ardan, who was trailing his fingers after the little sunbeams as if trying to catch them, inevitably grasped only empty air.

“What feels strange?” He asked, kissing the top of her head.

“That we don’t have to go anywhere this morning—we can just lie here together and laze about,” she answered, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.

In the past, their days off had almost never aligned. And even when they had, Tess had usually had to attend rehearsals, while Ardan had either gone to the library or to the Spell Market’s testing grounds.

Today, however, it just so happened that this was Tess’ first day of no longer working for Madam Okladov (who, while happy about her success, was very upset to be losing one of her best workers), and so the redhead was free for the first half of the day. And Ard… had decided to postpone his trip to the library.

“How’s your research going?” Tess asked. It was like she was reading his mind. “At this time, you usually go to the Grand’s library.”

“There’s a field inspection at an Manish’s company today, so I wouldn’t have been able to make it to both places anyway,” Ard fibbed a little—he actually could have managed it.

However, doing so would have meant calling a taxi, spending a ludicrous amount of money, and giving up a rare and much-desired morning spent in bed with his future wife. Ardi already prioritized his research far too much. One day spent resting in Tess’ arms wouldn’t change anything in his life. Not for the worse, anyway.

“Ardi.”

“Mmm?”

“I always know when you’re using that squirrel’s art… Skusty, I think his name was,” Tess said without reproach or resentment, idly doodling something with her finger in his short fur.

His fur wasn’t as thick or bristly as his father’s had been, but it was still far denser and coarser than a human man’s hair. Luckily, just like a human, Ard only grew fur in certain places, and if it was washed well and properly groomed, then it hardly differed from hair in outward appearance.

“I really do have to go to work today,” he insisted.

“I believe you… but what about the library?” Tess replied.

Ardan looked into her eyes and, pulling her a bit closer, nuzzled his nose into the hollow at the base of her neck. Tess smelled of sunshine, bright mornings, flowers, and home. Home was perhaps her most prevalent scent.

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him close. For a time, they lay there quietly, dozing. Sleep crept up to the threshold of their consciousness, showing them only a few blurry images and never fully claiming its rights.

“As soon as the opportunity arises, I’ll be sure to ask the forest creatures how they managed to raise such a marvel,” Tess whispered. She slid aside and—playfully holding his gaze the entire time—arched her back like a cat. Then slowly, deliberately, she stretched out her legs, then pushed her hips taut, and finally, she had a luxurious full-body stretch, letting the sun lavish her breasts with its glow.

Ardan was jealous of the sun right then. But they had already been awake for several hours now, and he’d lost count of how many times he’d found himself chasing across her velvety skin like those sunbeams...

“Let’s go together,” Tess proposed suddenly, whipping her head around so fast that her fiery mane fanned out like a wild blaze. “I actually need to stop by Brovsky’s. We’re gathering at his place today. Shiller and the others are probably already there and have been since last night.”

The mere thought of their fiancée going to another man’s apartment might’ve caused anxiety or discomfort in another man, but not Ardan. First, he didn’t really understand the concept of jealousy very well, and second, Brovsky, as far as Ardan knew, was not very different from Lady Polina Erkerovsky in some regards.

Ardi never would have guessed that on his own, but Arkar had recently given him a hint about it. Ardan had just shrugged. He wasn’t used to condemning anyone, much less judging them.

“Shall we take the underground lines?” Ardan propped himself up on his elbow and looked at the clock. Good grief, it was already half past nine. Almost half the day was gone. They had really overslept…

“I might have asked whether you can read minds, Ardi-the-wizard, but I already know you can,” Tess said with a grin.

“I never read your mind!” Ardan was quick to remind her.

“I know,” Tess nodded warmly in that soft, reassuring way of hers and flitted off toward the bathroom, where the frozen pipes had begun to rattle and hum.

Sleeping Spirits… They really ought to move out of here, if only because the living conditions Arkar provided weren’t very healthy. Especially for someone as delicate as a woman. Could that be why they hadn’t succeeded in conceiving until now? No, that was probably just an attempt to pass off wishful thinking as reality.

Ardan would’ve loved it if the problem had been caused by their living conditions alone, but in places like the Tend and Tendari, people lived in far worse conditions and children still swarmed the streets there. So…

“Thoughts for tomorrow,” Ard reminded himself.

For now, he lacked not only the knowledge to investigate this particular issue, but also the equipment in his lab as well. So, until better times came, he would hold onto the hope that it wasn’t a real problem, just a temporary hiccup, and that he and Tess would have success. Hector and Shaia, after all, had managed it in the end…

Climbing out of bed, Ardan went to the window and breathed in the slightly cool air for a few moments. The smell of the Markov Canal, slowly drifting to sleep, pierced the wall of viscous, heavy odors: fuel oil, diesel and factory smog that had all drifted over from the Tend and Tendari.

With each year that passed, the city sank deeper into the dark smoke rising from the chimneys of numerous factories and plants. It had gotten so bad that Parliament had already begun discussing a law banning the construction of new industrial enterprises within the capital, and requiring that the old industrial facilities be reconstructed and carted outside the city over the next fifty years.

As a result, ever since the end of summer, unrest had been brewing among the upper echelons of the country’s wealthiest, who were largely the owners or shareholders of that same heavy industry. All of this was discussed in passing at the an Manish office during lunch breaks, and Ardi always listened attentively.

“The bath’s free,” a lovely voice declared from behind him, cutting off his thoughts.

The young man turned to see his naked fiancée wrapped up in a fluffy towel. Their eyes met halfway and, after a few moments of meaningful silence, both sighed in unison, clearly disappointed.

Ardan tried not to look in Tess’ direction while she, with equal self-restraint, hid her eyes somewhere in the depths of the wardrobe that held her rather sparse collection of clothes. Meanwhile, the young man went into the bathroom and waited a bit for the pipes to cool down. The copper in them had already begun tinting the water green, so sooner or later, Arkar would have to undertake a major renovation of the building.

Of course, most of the apartments here stood vacant… not counting the fact that the building was often used by gang members as a flophouse. At times, up to a hundred orcs could be found in the building at once, occupying almost all the apartments. They didn’t really bother anyone, since they were usually just sleeping in the building or licking their wounds.

Even so, Ardi couldn’t disagree with Reish Orman— “Bruce’s” and the building it was in were not the best place to start a family.

Standing under the hesitant stream of the shower that felt more like a trickle of sand, Ardan went over his budget once again. He had earned a decent amount from the sales of the Misty Helper, a small sum from his first Magical Boxing match, the Black House had paid out all the bonuses he was due, his stipend had arrived from the Grand, and next month would bring his first “salary” from an Manish. All told, it was a rather formidable sum by Evergale’s standards.

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Or, in terms of the Metropolis’ income levels, it was enough to live… if not right on New Time Avenue, which was also known as Nyuvsky Prospect, then certainly somewhere along the main tram lines of the Central District. But! Once he deducted the expenses for his Star Magic, as well as the initial investment in his venture with Bazhen, Ardi was back to nearly empty pockets.

At times, he seriously wrestled with the urge to sell the Blue Star accumulators he’d gotten from Alla-Lisa and the “Bri-&-Man” company after the winter incident on the train. But! Again with that pesky “but…” He would need them to ignite his Blue Star. Sure, he could get what he needed from Dagdag at the Black House, but for a number of reasons that Ardi didn’t want to think about right now, that approach could spell far bigger problems for him.

“How right Neviy was,” Ardi sighed, remembering his friend. “Stupid grown-up life…”

After finishing his morning routine, Ardan went out into the corridor and donned his simple but well-made, dark blue woolen suit with a warm lining. It wasn’t like he would freeze even if he stepped outside in nothing but his birthday suit, but the very fact that he had warm clothes brought him a certain peace of mind. Plus, the three-piece suit helped him fit in a bit better.

“All set?” Tess asked.

Wearing a dress with a stiff corset hidden under a sweater and a beige coat, she looked as stunning as ever. Her delicate mesh gloves had been replaced with leather ones, and the little hat on her head had lost its feathers but gained a wider brim. Ardi would likely never lose the habit—instilled in him by his mother, who was a seamstress—of noticing clothing details.

“Of course,” Ardan replied. He grabbed his staff, clipped his grimoire to the chains on his belt, and shoved a military belt with mounts for spare accumulators into his satchel. On top of that, rings with Ley-crystals gleamed on both of his index fingers—one red, one green.

It was an occupational hazard.

Tess took his arm, and together, they went down the stairs.

Arkar, chin propped sullenly in one hand, was listening to a jittery young man with blazing eyes and papers that were nearly igniting in his eager hands.

“Our company provides some of the best mid-class generators on the market!” The young man, who was about Ardan’s age, insisted. He wasn’t at all fazed by Arkar’s tusks or the half-orc’s enormous, muscle-bound frame. “And most importantly, we are among the companies that offer you a business installment plan! We install a generator from this list” —the salesman slid a cardboard booklet across the bar—“and you use it to the fullest. Moreover, for the first year, we cover all maintenance costs entirely, and if unfavorable circumstances occur that result in an insurance case, we also cover repairs up to fifty exes!”

“And what would this cost me?” Arkar grumbled, eyeing the brochure without much interest.

The Overseer of the Orcish Jackets was good at counting money, and decent at earning it, but when it came to spending them, he treated exes the same way Timofey Polskih did. Arkar would sooner part with his own blood than with an extra coin.

“The Billinder Company is offering you a deal in which the generator’s price is split in half,” the young salesman pulled another booklet from his satchel. “The first half is broken into twelve monthly payments, after which you can either pay the second half in a lump sum and buy the generator outright, or you can have a new generator with a new payment plan and we’ll take the old one back. The transportation, likewise, is on us.”

“What the… ahem, ahem,” Arkar cleared his throat and slung the towel he’d been tirelessly using to polish the already impeccably-clean glasses over his shoulder. Ardan sometimes thought that the half-orc simply needed to always be turning, twisting, squeezing, or at least holding something in his hands. “Why would I, Mr…?”

“Henri. Henri Banier,” the salesman introduced himself.

“Why would I, Mr. Banier, need a new growler… generator, I mean… If the old one still works fine.”

“Technology doesn’t stand still, Mr. Arkar!” Henri responded immediately. “New solutions hit the market literally every quarter.”

“Maybe the solutions are new, but the problems are old,” Arkar retorted, waving a hand dismissively.

“You are absolutely right, Mr. Arkar, and it’s precisely for those old problems that we offer new solutions. Solutions that will reduce fuel costs and the replacement of blades and crystals by almost a third!”

By this point, Ardi and Tess had almost reached the exit when Arkar called out to them.

“Matabar, tell me the truth: is this runt trying to put me on the clock?”

From what Ardan had managed to pick up regarding gangster slang, “to put someone on the clock” referred to racketeering—it was when an unfortunate soul had to pay regularly, on time, for protection from being robbed, hurt, having his business torched, and so on. A typical practice of the Six.

“No, Arkar, it’s just a new kind of deal,” Ardi answered honestly, recalling that similar contracts were being signed at an Manish’s company.

Arkar scowled and, putting on his half-moon glasses, peered at the brochure.

“Soooo… two hundred and fifty exes… split into one twenty-five and one twenty-five… that’s ten exes and forty kso each month, and all that fun for a brand-new, forty-ray Green Star ‘Billinder Troits’ generator. What the heck is a Troits?”

“That’s the model name, Mr. Arkar,” Henri explained.

“And aren’t you called ‘Billinder?’”

“Yes, that’s the company name, but Troits is the model.”

“And why the… Ahem, why does a model need its own name?”

“Because we have other models.”

“And are they all ‘Troits’ as well?”

“No, look here, there’s the Troits No. 4—that’s the one you’re looking at currently—and Troits No. 5, No. 6 and No. 7. The number indicates the number of rays in tens.”

“And below that?”

“Commercial generators under forty rays aren’t made.”

“Then why the hell are you suffocating me with these numbers?!”

“I was just-”

“Inso… inask… is that even a word?!” Arkar spluttered, not even letting the salesman finish.

“And also, look-”

“If you tell me to look somewhere one more time, you’ll be looking out of the place you usually sit on,” Arkar growled.

“Er… well then, listen…” Henri pivoted smoothly.

“Ard! I can’t tell whether I like this tick or if I should call in a Shrimp!” Arkar exclaimed rhetorically.

Ardan just smiled and waved. He and Tess stepped out onto the street, and behind them, Mr. Banier was already droning on about the Anrad model—Green Star generators with an extra booster that could deliver higher voltage during peak hours for the same fuel consumption. However, they cost 310 exes instead of 250.

“How long do you think Mr. Banier will be at it?” Tess snickered.

“Knowing Arkar’s fussiness… until tonight, at least,” Ardan nodded.

Laughing, he and Tess walked briskly toward the stop, where a brand-new tram car was just arriving. It was a bit roomier and longer than its predecessor. And thanks to a closed system of tubes, these ones wouldn’t freeze in winter—they weren’t supposed to, at least. The first winter these new specimens (or “models,” as Mr. Banier would call them) would have to contend with was still to come.

In general, the industrial boom had led to the word “model” entering everyday use faster and faster. They even claimed that, soon enough, automobiles from the same companies would also have different models. “Derks” was promising some kind of big sensation, for example.

This innovation fever was being stoked by the approaching Congress, which, of course, would bring in not just politicians from all over the world, but also journalists as well. That meant that the companies and enterprises of the Empire would have the chance to advertise their goods and services to the whole world.

“What are you thinking about?” Tess asked after the conductor had checked their tickets.

“Ah, nothing in particular, just nonsense, really,” Ardan replied.

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. She truly could tell when Ardan was using Skusty’s art…

They spent the rest of the ride to the nearest underground tram station, which had a fitting and somewhat ominous name: “The Water Station,” discussing things that were pleasantly carefree and fun. They just talked and talked, smiling often, occasionally laughing, and without even realizing it, they kept trying to nestle closer to each other.

In the packed tram car, this earned them some envious looks from certain people, annoyed looks from others, but the majority, as usual, were too absorbed in their own troubles and responsibilities to pay attention to anyone else.

After ten minutes, the hoarse voice of the tired conductor announced:

“The Water Station.”

People shuffled out of the tram in a single file, waddling along. Ardan and Tess were among them.

“You know where to go?” Ardi whispered into his fiancée’s ear.

“I do—Shiller told me. But why are you whispering?” Tess replied, curious.

“No idea,” Ardi said with a shrug.

Covering her mouth with her hand, the girl let out a soft laugh. They walked together down a street that had clearly been widened by physically moving the buildings around. Those buildings had been lifted on jacks along with their foundations, placed on enormous logs, and trundled apart. Ardi had seen this happen once and had been so astonished that Boris, Elena and Tess had teased him for days about his reaction.

From all sides—out of alleyways, from other stops, even spilling out of taxis—whole crowds of people were streaming toward an unremarkable-looking building. Surprisingly, Ardi spotted some Firstborn in the crowd as well, which was utterly uncharacteristic for Old Town. There were short, bearded dwarves, marching in step to the tapping of their canes, which helped their diminutive race keep pace with the city’s speed. In contrast, a few towering, statuesque elves stood out; going by their figures alone, one couldn’t easily tell a man from a woman, unless one rudely stared at those places one shouldn’t gawk at in polite society.

The pointy-eared, uniformly beautiful beings kept their distance from others that were sizable not only vertically, but horizontally as well. Massive orcs with gleaming gray, brown and green skin (unlike other Firstborn, orcs could easily be classified according to their tribe and habitat based on their appearance) drew attention as much as a lighthouse in a calm sea. And yet, all of them—including the rare few quick and wiry goblins—were all but invisible within the backdrop of hundreds of ordinary humans.

“And how are we all supposed to fit in there…” Ardan grumbled.

“Oh, don’t tell me a Second Chancery Corporal is afraid of something,” Tess said teasingly, patting his arm. “I know you don’t like enclosed spaces, but down below, it’s actually roomier than you can imagine.”

Tess and Ardan had planned to use the underground tram lines together, but back then, Ardi hadn’t managed to make it, so Tess had gone on that little adventure by herself. Now, armed with experience, she watched the nervous Ardan with a slight, knowing smile.

After all, he wasn’t a dwarf or a goblin, capable of feeling as calm under the earth—with kilotons of rock overhead—as he did on the surface.

Along with the crowd, they entered a spacious vestibule adorned with… not just marble and gilding, which framed numerous intricate mosaics, but also glass. It was the most ordinary blown glass that had been shaped into figures. Birds and beasts, people and trees—there were entire little towns crafted of glass hanging from chains and peering down at the visitors from the columns. Sometimes, they were even arranged to look like miniature balconies.

Ardi, who was looking around in amazement, was momentarily distracted from his anxious thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d reached one of the many ticket kiosks.

“Two tickets to Highpoint, please,” Tess said, placing twenty-eight kso on the little tray.

Each station cost only two kso per passenger to travel to, and they needed to ride seven stations, which—according to the ads—would take only thirty minutes. This was almost twice as fast as going by taxi, and two and a half times faster than using the trams with their transfers.

A man in a formal frock coat handed them two large iron tokens. Each was the size of an obsolete silver ex coin—the kind you could only find in museums and private collections these days.

“Here you go,” Tess handed a token to Ardan, who immediately noticed the intricate design on it: outwardly, it looked like the profile of the Last King, also known as the First Emperor, but in fact, it clearly served as a kind of key. “We’ll have to throw it into the machine, and the barrier will open for us.”

“Barrier?”

“You’ll see when we get there!” Tess tugged him by the hand. “It’s so cool—it’s almost like an amusement park ride!”

With steadily increasing skepticism, Ardan followed his fiancée. They passed under a towering arch adorned with more marble and shaped glasswork, and emerged into another grand hall. Here, the crowd split into a dozen streams, each waiting their turn at some sort of simple device. They looked like saloon doors, only attached to iron posts and not walls. Standing in pairs, they formed a simple but reliable control system.

This reliability was further ensured by the men in red uniforms, who were carrying rifles and standing between each pair of automatic gates. Apart from these guards, Ardan noticed a booth in the distance where, behind a broad window—much like a theater box office—a few more guards kept watch.

Tess went first, ahead of Ardan, and soon, she slipped the iron token into a slot. A metallic bell sounded and, along with the purring of a little motor, the wooden turnstile doors swung open before the girl.

The whole system was most likely powered by a single industrial Red Star generator, and the wiring feeding into the floor mechanisms was hidden by the base of the barriers. Simple, but reliable.

“Excuse me, sir,” a red-uniformed guard said, stepping in front of Ardan.

Tess, who was already on the other side, whirled around and frowned slightly in concern. But the issue wasn’t Ardan’s race, his height, or his fangs this time.

“Your staff isn’t in a case,” the guard informed him in a calm, businesslike tone, pulling Ardan out of the general queue. “By law, mages are required to-”

“Pardon me,” Ardan interrupted him and pulled a folding leather document case out of his inner pocket, presenting it.

The guard ran his eyes over the various permits and seals, nodded, and returned the case.

“Have a good day, Mr. Egobar,” he said in that same gray, indifferent tone.

Ardi didn’t mind—quite the opposite. It would have been downright strange if nobody had paid attention to his unsheathed staff.

Enduring the disjointed but clearly disgruntled muttering of the gentleman in front of whom Ardan returned to the line, the young man dropped his token into the slot and passed through the open doors. On the other side, Tess immediately took him by the arm.

“You can’t be gawking around here,” she instructed. “There are even more people down below.”

“Down below?” Ardan repeated, taken aback. “We’re not all the way down yet?”

It was worth noting that this whole time, they had indeed been descending along a floor that sloped gently downward. It was like walking down a long ramp. You wouldn’t even notice it before suddenly finding yourself a few floors lower than where you’d started.

“Of course!” Tess exclaimed excitedly.

Together, in the middle of the crowd, they approached…

A parade of goosebumps marched down Ardan’s spine. A lump of nausea clenched his throat, a cold sweat broke out on his skin, and the walls around him began eagerly pressing down on his shoulders. The crowd ahead, splitting into multiple streams again, was stepping onto—oh Sleeping Spirits!—moving stairs that carried people off into the depths of a tunnel lit by Ley-lamps.

“Maybe… maybe we could still take the regular tram?” Ardi pleaded.

As if he didn’t get enough of elevators in his daily life… Oh Sleeping Spirits! How rash and wrong his suggestion to use the underground tram lines had been!

“Don’t chicken out now,” Tess kept pulling him along. “We’ve already paid for our trip.”

And indeed, as soon as the girl mentioned the twenty-eight kso, Ardan perked up and steeled himself enough to follow her.

Stepping carefully onto the wooden surface of a mechanism far more complex than a mere turnstile, Ardi closed his eyes for a moment and steadied his breathing.

“Don’t worry so much,” Tess said, standing beside him and continuing to rub his arm soothingly. “Several guilds worked on this project, you know—including your own Mage Guild!”

Ardan, after recalling the Ley energy generation bay on the airship, then the technical facilities in the vampire mansion’s underground level, and well aware of the manufacturing defects engineers sometimes encountered while servicing generators, replied:

“That, dear, is exactly why I’m worried.”

Tess blinked in confusion. It must’ve been nice to not know a thing about Star Magic and remain unaware of the fact that not every cloak-and-staff bearer had the competence required to avoid turning a moving staircase into a fiendishly clever instrument of mass murder.

Ardan gripped his staff with a pale hand, heart thudding as he watched the Ley-lamps glide past. They were affixed to curved panels that lent the tunnel a civilized appearance.

Trying to distract his troubled mind, Ardan attempted to calculate the approximate power requirements of the generators, as well as how everything was connected via the Ley-wiring. This occupied him for about two minutes, during which time the escalator steadily ferried them into the earth’s depths.

And the deeper they went, the more tightly a vise squeezed Ardan’s head. It wasn’t as relentless or cold as it had been on the airship, but it was still noticeable.

Of course! The underground tram lines were shielded from the external Paarlax field so that its intense saturation wouldn’t conflict with the Ley-equipment. Ardi knew this from Convel’s lectures—the professor had speculated in a first-year seminar whether it might have been more advantageous to power the underground lines with diesel instead of the Ley. In the end, even with all the added expenses, it had turned out that the Ley was still cheaper.

“We’re here!” Tess yanked her companion out of his thoughts by the elbow. “Look at how amazing it is!”

Ardan blinked and looked around. The scene before him vividly resembled his grandfather’s tales of grottos and dungeons of old, where brave heroes and wanderers had battled evil wizards, Fae, demons, and their creations.

The ceiling—more precisely, the vaulted ceiling—stood a good seven meters overhead. With its false arches and elegant bas-reliefs, this place looked less like an underground tunnel and more like Ardi and Tess had found themselves inside a wave frozen in stone.

There were massive triple lanterns on the walls, illuminating the space with a steady, golden glow. And from above, swaying in an artificially-created breeze, hung heavy chandeliers.

Ardan forgot where he was for a moment and even let his mouth fall open in awe. It wasn’t like he suddenly felt comfortable here, but he had to acknowledge, once again, the extent of human genius. And indeed, many exclamations of wonder came from the large crowd surrounding him and Tess:

“I feel like I’m in some kind of palace…”

“This really costs only two kso per stop?”

“You could live down here!”

“The Crown could’ve spent the money on something more useful,” someone grumbled.

All sorts of voices rang out from different sides, until suddenly, a long whistle silenced them. To the left and right of the central tunnel, sheet-metal plates rose from the ground, separating the tram rails from the crowd.

“They should have used platforms,” Ardan muttered.

“What, dear?” Tess asked, not hearing him over the commotion.

“Platforms,” Ardan nodded toward the metal barriers. “Like at a train station. Raise the passengers up, lower the trams down. That would have been safer.”

Tess gave him that odd little smile of hers and patted his arm again. Meanwhile, with its brilliant headlight shining, a tram was already pulling in toward the crowd, which was protected from certain doom by nothing more than those meter-high plates.

Though calling it just a tram hardly did justice to an entire train consisting of fifteen cars, all of which were maroon in color and gleaming under the lights with fresh lacquer and clean glass.

With another whistle, the car doors opened in unison, releasing other passengers who, while passing through the gaps between the barrier plates, jostled their elbows and shoulders against those waiting. The whole spectacle, at least outwardly, looked like a scuffle between not-very-civilized gentlemen.

A bit of time would surely pass before society developed—as it always does everywhere—its own unspoken rules for using this form of transportation. For now, though, the crowd, shivering like grass in a storm, swayed and burst in two directions. Out and in.

Ard had to forge a path for himself and Tess with his shoulder and elbow, but the girl only found it amusing and wasn’t bothered in the least. Fortunately, since Ardi, as usual, towered over the crowd, they found themselves inside a car soon enough.

The first thing that caught the eye was that the seats here were arranged not perpendicular to the walls, but parallel to them, with two long rows facing each other. And in the center, amid the poles and handrails, was some open space. This was presumably so people wouldn’t bump each other’s feet, but considering the press of the never-ending crowd, that space would likely be claimed by standing passengers who hadn’t been lucky enough to get a seat.

Tess snuggled into her companion’s shoulder as she sat down beside him, and Ardan kept a firm hold on his staff. He’d already promised himself that this was the first and last time in his life where he would descend into the underground lines. This branch of technological progress had clearly not been made for him. And, judging by the hunched elves and orcs around him—not for them, either.

At the third whistle, the doors closed automatically, and the train, shaking itself, lurched forward and began to move. Someone in the car yelled in terror, others immediately laughed, and Ardan could understand both reactions. In all likelihood, he himself would have screamed as well had he not lived through the past year and a half.

“See? Nothing scary,” Tess said in a loud whisper next to his ear, overpowering the clatter of wheels and the droning of generators. “Everything is working just fine! And most importantly—it’s fast!”

Ardan nodded, but he still couldn’t shake the memories of the airship and those simultaneously funny and frightening stories Professor Convel had shared with his students about negligent Star Engineers.

Sleeping Spirits… if even half the population knew how all of this was built and designed, Ley-equipment would have no clients or customers at all.

One could only hope that everything would be fine…

One “hope” later…

The lights in the car suddenly went out, and the crowd—almost toppling over one another from the abrupt stop—let out a unified ooh!

“Ardi…” Tess whispered, alarmed.

Ardan cursed silently.

Just one more stop…