A moment later, light streamed from the slit windows and the spaces around the door. The door buckled and the windows bulged and splintered. Then the roof sagged and smoke began to rise.
“A good thing,” said Ravn Olafsdottr from her position prone to the ground, “that these buildings are blast fast. Automatics extinguish fires in short order.” She rose and brushed herself off. “Gayshot Bo thought to protect her reluctant lover from Hounds, but provide now rationale for your daughter’s disappearance. Smuggle-out easy now.”
Others were coming, attracted by the noise of the explosion. Little Hugh had faded into the shadows of the night—to return as if part of the curious crowd. Gwillgi had vanished entirely. Only Bridget ban—the actress, Gloriana—had remained.
Ravn looked about. “Where is Méarana?” And then she saw that Bridget ban stared with murderous intensity at the ruined apartment. “No! Say that we did not leave her behind!”
But the Red Hound shook her head. “If it was the Gayshot Bo’s intention to get rid of the Hounds, she succeeded only in drawing them onward. She took Lucia with her.”
Ravn was not accustomed to the harper’s base name and it took a moment for her to recognize it for what it was. “Did she? Or did Méarana grab hold of her?”
Bridget ban turned on her. “And why would she do that?”
“You forget why she came with me to begin with. Now you must follow her to Dao Chetty, and so rescue Donovan buigh before Gidula disposes of him as well.”
Bridget ban closed her eyes and sighed. “Och, Donovan. What am I to do with that man?”
XIII. The Razor’s Edge
The River Zyu—the River of Pearls—is named for its supposedly milky color, though this far down from the Chalky Mountains the waters are more tea than milk. The Secret City sits upon bluffs high on the right bank, pinkish in the afternoon sun, surrounded by massive walls more intimidating than defensive and by the houses and businesses of those who bask in the proximity of power. On the left bank, massive apartment blocks squat in uniform ranks on lowlands more directly open to the river’s whims. One block, named “Sugar Cane City,” rises on a tract formerly given over to industrial cane processing.
“There it is,” said Little Jacques, the pale pigmy who conned the modest pleasure boat that traveled slowly up the stream. Donovan and Gidula looked where he pointed. The magpies with them looked everywhere else. All were dressed in festive river-garb: broad-brimmed sun-hats, water-singlets, flotation belts. The river was a favored playground for those who could afford to play.
“Seems different,” Donovan said as he studied the manicured esplanade along the waterfront.
“Not too different, I hope,” answered Gidula. Little Jacques smiled without turning around.
“Put in over there,” Donovan suggested. “Take it slow and watch for underwater obstacles. There were piers here once, and the pilings might linger underwater.”
Little Jacques said to no one in particular, “I love it when you remember things.”
“I love it,” said Gidula more privately, “when you remember things.”
“Sometimes memory needs a stimulus.”
“Yes,” said Gidula, sitting back once more. “I know.”
The sign read: NO PLEASURECRAFT DOCKING. Gidula and Donovan jumped ashore while Little Jacques and the magpies stayed in the boat. Donovan shaded his eyes and peered across the river.
“Well?” said Gidula.
“The old sugar plant stood here, and the bank was overgrown with volunteer cane.” He strode north along the esplanade about twenty paces, paused. “Here. I think. When I came ashore, I could still see my point of exit under the bluffs.” He turned his powerglasses across the river and upstream. The bank there was an impenetrable thicket of rhododendron, sassafrass, hazelwood, and Chinese elm. Donovan lowered the glasses. He would have to tell them about the steam tunnels sooner or later, and it looked as if later had come.
“They assumed I used my power-zoot to cross the river as quickly as possible, and so searched along the southern side of the Secret City. They never imagined that a man fleeing for his life would drift lazily with the current for a time. But I knew my destination, and there was no point coming ashore upstream of here. My betrayer knew the destination, too, and guessed where I might come ashore. I don’t know why they never came back to question me further.”
Gidula sighed. “The Names decided that the uprising ‘never happened,’ so it was an embarrassment to have about those who remembered putting it down.”
“Ah. False consciousness.” Donovan placed the glasses in the carry-case. “Most of the city center was in ruins. How did they explain that?”
Gidula stepped back into the boat. “Urban renewal.”
Gidula and Donovan put on a dumb show in case anyone in the sheep pens was gazing in boredom, awe, or envy toward the gleaming towers of Secret City. They disembarked on the right bank to relieve themselves only to have their boat lose power and drift with the current. They scrambled through the brush to catch it. Haha! The discomfiture of the wealthy is ever a source of amusement to the sheep. No need to inform authorities of anything so droll.
Donovan edged inland as he scrambled downstream; and before too long, he found the crumbling exit of a steam tunnel. Gidula, caught in a tangle of rhododendrons, did not notice; so Donovan pressed on—and came upon a second opening! He had tallied six tunnels before he decided he could not plausibly have overlooked them all, and finally informed Gidula. “I don’t know which I came out of,” Donovan said. “They must underrun the entire city of Old New Jösing. If I explore each, I should have a good idea which served the Secret City.”
“We’ll come back later with the others,” Gidula said. “We don’t want the Protectors to wonder about activity along the riverbank.” He was not about to let Donovan roam a warren of tunnels in which he might not be found again. “Steam tunnels … Who would have thought it?”
Donovan ignored him. “The system fell into disuse; MHD plants were redeployed. New construction sealed over the accessways. Once the drainage tunnels were out of sight, they soon passed out of mind.”
Gidula clicked Little Jacques, who was finally able to restart his boat and pick them up.