Fractured Magic: Chapter Thirteen

It was over half an hour before Roman and Dinara finally returned — enough time for Maebhe to snoop around the trailer twice and then grow bored. Seeing their long faces, she raised an eyebrow at them from where she was lounging on the bed. “No luck?”

Roman sighed and flopped onto the open space beside her, face-first into the mattress. Maebhe yelped in surprise as she bounced, not expecting the petulant gesture from the man who’d been so serious before. “Magistrate Ranulf won’t budge,” he said, muffled. “It sounds like Gareth’s been trying to get them released since they were first taken, with no luck.”

“We learned some useful information, at least,” Dinara said from the doorway. She lingered there, as unwilling to come inside as she was to tangle herself in Maebhe’s problems. Not that Maebhe blamed her. Where Roman was difficult to read, either stern or cheerful with no in between, each mood as fake as the other, Dinara was easy, and Maebhe got the sense there were problems here she wasn’t privy to. Every so often, Dinara’s warm eyes slid over to Roman, a series of emotions flurrying through them: concern, trepidation, fear, sadness. Whatever rift was opening between them, Maebhe just hoped it wasn’t because of her.

“Your brother and his fiancee were detained on charges of conspiring against Unity and are being held on the island,” Roman explained. “Good to know, like Di said, but it doesn’t actually help us get them back.”

“Still, they’re alive! That must be a relief,” Dinara said with an encouraging smile. Maebhe didn’t much feel like smiling back, but Dinara was so kind, it felt like the least she could do.

“Unfortunately, being held ‘on the island’ almost certainly means ‘in Unity’s prison’, which is impossible to break into. With no easy way in and no Magistrate’s brother to ease the way for us, this certainly poses a challenge.”

“So what do we do? Are we supposed to just give up?” Maebhe asked.

Roman held up a finger. “Impossible to break into.” He sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I know a way we can walk right in. It’s just going to be messy.”

Dinara opened her mouth, then shut it just as quickly, biting her lip. They had half an hour to themselves, but Maebhe was getting the sense Roman hadn’t explained anything more to her in that time.

“Come with me,” Roman said, pushing himself up. “Maebhe, put your cloak back on. We’re going to visit an old friend of mine.”

Roman led them north, away from the coast and Unity and deeper into the city. Maebhe would’ve been suspicious — should have been, probably — but she’d decided she was in too deep to question her choices now. For her, emotion ran in a limited supply, and she’d used it all up worrying about Kieran and Ide. So when this strange man, all secrets one moment and smiles the next, had given her the first glimmer of hope she’d felt since Kieran was taken, she decided she’d trust him. Even if it led to her death, she’d trust him. And she’d keep his secrets, too — a favor for a favor.

What else was she going to do? Strike off alone again? Not likely.

Beside her, Dinara had less faith. Her eyes never left Roman’s back, though she never did voice the concerns that were clearly ready to bubble out of her. Instead, she followed Roman just as quietly as Maebhe did, down the side streets and back alleys. He avoided the main roads, weaving through shortcuts and hidden paths like someone who’d lived in Gallontea his whole life. If he said he knew a shortcut onto the island, Maebhe believed him.

Finally, they ended up in a quiet — middle class, if Maebhe had to guess, though the architecture here was still so strange — neighborhood filled with rows of tightly-packed, near-identical brick houses.

“Where are we going?” Dinara asked, keeping her voice to a whisper.

“I know a smuggler who lives near here. He can get anyone onto the island, only...” Roman trailed off, wrinkling his nose.

“Only what?”

“Nothing. I just hope neither of you have sensitive noses.”

Being an orinian, of course, Maebhe did. Before she could ask what he meant, he stopped in front of one of the houses, this one utterly indistinguishable from the others, except that the heavy curtains behind the windows were drawn shut. It could have just as easily belonged to a doctor or a merchant as a smuggler.

“If Ivey’s not home, we’ll break in and wait,” Roman said.

“Break in?” Dinara squeaked.

“Trust me, he’s not the type to mind.”

While Maebhe and Dinara lingered at the gate, Roman stepped up to the front door, the brass knocker creaking as he used it to knock twice, pausing briefly before knocking three more times. After that fifth knock, the door flew open, revealing a disheveled-looking man with a full beard and wild eyes. His hair, which stuck in every direction, was the sort of seashell-gray that implied it had once been a bright, vivid red.

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but the man cut him off, saying, “Code’s changed,” and slamming the door in his face. Roman glanced sheepishly back at Maebhe and Dinara, then knocked more insistently. This time, when the door opened, the man was grinning. “Only kidding, Aim! It’s great to see you alive, my friend!”

“Alive?” Maebhe asked, at the same time Dinara asked, “Aim?”

Roman stood at least a foot taller than this stranger, but that didn’t stop the man from dragging Roman into a hug. Roman squawked indignantly, struggled a moment, and then gave in, his whole face scrunching up as he wrinkled his nose. It was cute. Maebhe hadn’t been sure when they first met, but she thought now that Roman couldn’t be much older than her.

“Roman? What’s going on?” Dinara asked.

“Roman?” the man repeated, pulling away to look Roman up and down. He still held Roman’s shoulders as he peered around him to study Dinara next. When his gaze landed on Maebhe’s cloaked form, Maebhe saw curiosity ignite behind his eyes. “Come in, come in.”

Immediately upon stepping inside, Maebhe understood what Roman meant about sensitive noses. She froze in the doorway. Subtle, beneath the smell of cigars and old furniture, was something wet and rotten. Though Dinara seemed not to notice, Roman gave her a knowing look. Flushing, Maebhe forced herself inside so the smuggler could shut the door behind her.

She was lucky, perhaps, that she still wore the hood, though she’d ditched that humiliating helmet back at Roman and Dinara’s trailer. Her ears were the most expressive part of her; she was sure they were flat to her head now, drawn back in distaste. Her voice, at least, was light as she looked around and said, “This is...nice.”

And it was, if you could get past the smell. This smuggler had eclectic taste, the front rooms filled with all sorts of strange collections — mounted rifles, pinned butterflies, framed photos and other ephemera. The decor was patterned and bright, giving the place a cozy, homey feel. She lowered her hood as she looked around, and the smuggler regarded her with even more interest now that it was off. “An orinian,” he said. “I might’ve known. Here I hoped this was a social call, Roman.”

“Sorry,” Roman said, not sounding terribly sorry.

“And you’re a maranet, aren’t you?” Maebhe asked. She’d never met one in person; they were rare, even here in Gallontea. In addition to being a mostly northern people, their long lives meant they didn’t have the same drive to reproduce as the other human races.

“Mostly. The name’s Ivey.” When the smuggler grinned, he revealed a double set of sharp-tipped canines.

“This is Maebhe Cairn and Dinara Condeh,” Roman said.

“Let me guess: Ms. Maebhe finds herself in need of a swift exit out of Gallontea.”

“Nothing gets past you, Ivey,” Roman said, wandering into the sitting room. They all followed without question, as if it was his house. Even Ivey. The room was dark, the street-facing curtains shut tight, but several lamps throughout the room at least gave them enough to see by. “Before that, though, there’s a short detour I need to make. Are your tunnels still active, Ivey?”

“Tunnels?” Dinara asked.

Ivey scoffed. “Of course they are, but we’ll need to map out a route to your destination before we use them.”

“No need. Even after all these years, I know the route like the back of my hand,” Roman said.

“You can’t mean...” Ivey trailed off. “Wait just a moment, now. I’ve heard some truly bizarre stories about you, you know, since we last met. It had been my belief that I’d never see you again, yet here you are, healthy and hale and not even a day older, besides. I’m owed explanations, I think.”

“You’re not the only one,” Dinara said, crossing her arms.

Maebhe took a definitive step back from the conversation, going over to study Ivey’s pinned butterflies to remove herself from it as obviously as possible. She recognized one, gold and spotted, from Creae Valley.

“I’ll explain everything. To both of you,” she heard Roman said, “But I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until after this is all over.”

Ivey folded first with a sigh. “You may use my tunnels, but only on the condition that you get dinner with me afterwards. Unlike you, I’m an old man, now, and I demand my chance to reminisce.” When Roman opened his mouth, possibly to argue, Ivey added, “You promised me dinner last time you used my tunnels, too, you recall. Right before you fled the city with Unity’s Enforcers at your heels.”

Roman winced. “I can’t guarantee the result won’t be the same this time, but sure,” he said.

“What? Do you think that’s likely?” Dinara asked. “Why did you have to flee before? Roman, what’s going on? What tunnels are you talking about?”

Roman sighed and perched on the arm of Ivey’s old sofa. Answering only the last question, he said, “There’s a web of them running under the city — sewage tunnels, underdrains, even some old smuggling routes that predate Unity’s founding. They’re impossible to navigate if you don’t know what you’re doing, but Ivey was one of the original contractors when they were expanding Gallontea’s infrastructure, almost three hundred years ago.”

“Over three hundred years now, Aim,” Ivey interrupted. “Quite a bit over.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Ah, I didn’t realize. Over three hundred years ago. Point is,” he said to Dinara and Maebhe, who’d started paying attention again, “He’s got a route that leads to the island.”

“So you do mean to go back there,” Ivey murmured. “Where to? The prison? You know you’ll need to go through—”

“I know,” Roman said quickly, sharply. When he met Maebhe’s eye, he winked and gave a cheerful smile. It was about as real, Maebhe suspected, as the “orinian” glassware Ivey had displayed on himself. Convincing until you spotted the inconsistencies in the pattern. “I’ll be in and out of the prison in a flash. I’ve just got some orinians to rescue. Trust me.”

“I do,” Ivey said without hesitation. He looked Roman up and down with a critical eye, then rocked back on his heels. “I know you love your swords, but you’re bringing a gun too, aren’t you? You’ll need it, where you’re going.”

“Will he?” Dinara asked.

“Hopefully not,” Roman assured her.

“I’ve got a revolver you can borrow,” Ivey pressed. “Just in case.”

Beside Maebhe, Dinara looked ill. Maebhe pressed down on her shoulder until the girl took the hint and dropped onto the sofa behind her, her skirts fanning out over the patterned fabric. When Ivey left to fetch the gun, Maebhe decided to turn the conversation away from firepower. “Why does he call you Aim?” she asked.

Roman blinked. “Hm? Oh, it’s just an old nickname.”

“Huh,” Maebhe said. “How many names do you have?”

At that, Roman’s lips quirked. Some of the tension that had appeared in his shoulders at Ivey’s questioning eased. “A few.”

“A few?” Dinara asked. “Why do I only know the one?”

“It just...never came up?” Roman said.

Okay, time to pivot in another direction. “How long do you think this will take?” Maebhe asked instead. “When can we go? Will we get them back today?”

“We?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “You’re not going.”

“What! You can’t mean to go alone?” Maebhe asked.

Dinara stood again in a flurry of fabric. “Roman, you can’t!”

“I’m not taking either of you with me. If we run into trouble, what will you do?”

“I can fire a gun,” Maebhe said, jutting her chin out. “My brother taught me.”

To her surprise, Roman didn’t turn her down. Instead, he looked her up and down, considering. “Are you a good shot?” he asked.

“Decent. And a good runner. If there’s trouble, believe me when I say I’ll just leave it to you.”

Roman’s smile at that actually reached his cold eyes, making them seem somehow warmer. It was possibly the first real smile Maebhe had seen from him. “Fine, but only because I’ll need help identifying your brother when I find him.”

Maebhe nodded, glad she hadn’t mentioned that said brother was her identical twin.

“And what about me?” Dinara asked. “I’m coming. You can’t stop me. If you leave me here all alone, I’ll worry myself sick. Roman, please.”

Roman sighed. “If I let you join, you stay down in the tunnels. No going up to the island with us. Agreed?”

Dinara nodded.

When Ivey returned, it was with a whole armful of supplies: two revolvers, a canvas pouch, a pocket lantern, a rope, a crowbar. He kept the lantern and crowbar for himself and passed Roman the guns. While Roman loaded them with bullets from the pouch, Ivey began delivering instructions: “When we get down there, it is imperative that you memorize the route to the best of your abilities. If we get separated, or if anything happens to me or Roman, you’ll need to be able to find your way back. Don’t speak down there unless necessary — sound carries, and despite Roman’s glowing praise, I’m not the only one who knows these tunnels.”

“If we do meet anyone, run. Immediately. Let me handle it,” Roman added. Satisfied with the guns, he passed one to Maebhe.

“With pleasure,” Ivey said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I plan on staying in the sewer this time. I’m not as young as I once was.”

“Good. I was going to ask you to hang back, anyway. Dinara will be waiting with you,” Roman said. He clapped his hands together, then looked over their mismatched group. “Shall we?”

The entrance to Ivey’s tunnels, it turned out, was in his basement, disguised as an old cistern. Maebhe expected water when Ivey first lifted the cistern hatch, but instead there was only more of that smell. Inside was hollow, a roughly person-sized hole at the bottom leading down to deeper darkness. Suddenly, Maebhe understood.

“Let me guess: that leads to those sewage tunnels you mentioned?” she asked.

“Good guess,” Roman said, grinning.

“Am I going to need a bath after this?” Dinara asked.

“Probably. But it’s not too late to stay back,” Roman offered.

In answer, Dinara scoffed and dug around in her pockets until she pulled out a strip of cloth. She used it to tie her hair back, then, after a moment’s thought, pulled out a second and passed it to Maebhe.

“Thanks!” Maebhe said cheerfully, piling her long hair into a messy bun atop her head.

“Fair enough,” Roman said. He sighed, swung his legs over the side of the cistern, and dropped in.

“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. And we’ll move out of the sewage tunnels pretty quickly,” Ivey said, then following Roman down.

The thin bar of his lantern’s light fell on a hole in the ground, just large enough for a single person to fit through, and Maebhe glimpsed the first prongs of a ladder leading down. Roman took the lantern from Ivey, looping the handle around his wrist before staring his descent. “Down we go.”

Maebhe had to wait for Roman to make room before she could climb into the cistern herself, Dinara following behind. “Shit, that smells,” Maebhe complained, covering her nose. She, Dinara, and Ivey all leaned over the hole to watch Roman climb and saw the faint glimmer of light hitting water at the bottom.

“Your word choice might be more accurate than you intended,” Ivey said. With a good-natured pat on Maebhe’s shoulder, he started his own descent after Roman.

The joke startled a laugh out of Maebhe. She shook her head, practically bouncing on her heels. This was starting to feel real. This tunnel would take her to Kieran and Ide. She was going to get Kieran and Ide back. For that, she’d walk through as much shit as she had to.

“If I can handle Kieran after he takes his boots off, I can handle this,” she said, mostly for Dinara’s benefit. She had been looking uncertain, but Maebhe’s comment startled a laugh out of her. Maebhe added, “You can, too. After you?”

One at a time, they descended the ladder. It was almost exactly as Maebhe expected — narrow, stinky — but the one pleasant surprise was that she didn’t have to walk through shit, after all. There was a mostly dry sidewalk, running parallel to dark water Maebhe tried not to look at too closely. Some natural light made its way down, too, so that they didn’t have to rely entirely on the lantern.

“I’m going to be sick,” Dinara mumbled.

“If you need to throw up, rest assured it won’t be the worst thing to have gone into this water,” Roman said cheerfully, earning a chuckle from Ivey.

“Not helpful, Roman.”

Maebhe laughed, too, but when the sound echoed, her ears pressed flat to her head. She remembered what Ivey said about silence. They all seemed to, as it fell heavy between them as they pressed onward, following Roman’s lead just as they had on the walk to Ivey’s.

To Maebhe, it felt like they walked for hours before the tunnels changed, one flowing into another: the ceilings stretched higher, the water rushing alongside them deepened, sped its flow. Then Ivey redirected them, turning them down a narrow path — so narrow that Maebhe had to turn sideways, inching through. At one point, the path tilted downhill, the texture of the walls changed. Smooth, vaguely slimy brick changed to rough stone. It reminded Maebhe of cave exploration; if she closed her eyes and ignored the smell, she could imagine she was in the cave systems outside Orean, Kieran right behind her.

But then they came out the other side and found themselves in a new tunnel system entirely. The tiled walls struck Maebhe as old, depicting some sprawling pattern she could only see a fraction of at a time. She’d love to know what they depicted, but it was dark here — the darkest it had been since they started their exploration. The only light now came from Roman’s lantern.

“We’re under the bridge, in the old smuggling tunnels,” Roman whispered. “If we’re going to run into anyone else, it’s going to be here. Remember what I said back at the house: run. Leave them to me.”

“How did they build this?” Maebhe whispered back. “Aren’t we underwater?”

“Dragons. Hammering out those contracts was a chore, let me tell you,” Ivey grumbled.

Maebhe gave a wistful sigh. “I didn’t get to talk to a single dragon on this trip. I was ready for it, too; I took a draconic class in school.”

Dinara took Maebhe’s hand in the darkness and gave it a light squeeze. “This must be so hard on you. I’m sure it’ll all blow over quickly. I’m sure war isn’t as unavoidable as people are saying.”

Maebhe smiled at her, though she knew Dinara couldn’t see it. Ahead of them, Roman and Ivey kept quiet. Maebhe chose to believe that didn’t mean anything — they didn’t disagree, they were just focused. That was all.

Before long, the tunnel climbed gradually upward, water flowing around them, up to their ankles. Clean water, at least — they must have been in the storm drains under the island, now. The hints of sunslight that streamed down through grates high above confirmed it.

“Are you sure you can do this, Aim?” Ivey asked, just enough light hitting his face to reveal the concerned furrow of his brow.

“I’ve done it before.”

“That’s not what I asked. Are you sure you can do this?”

Roman laughed. It sounded hollow, echoing as it did. More to himself than Ivey, he said, “I’m sure I can manage.”

Ivey nodded. “Then all that’s left is to find you a way up.”

Roman's secrets deepen even further! What do you think about this upcoming mission of theirs? Do you think it'll go smoothly? Do you think it'll be successful?

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