At the end of a short corridor was a heavy iron door, standing open. The stench was emanating from there. Frey poked his lantern through and looked out into the sewers.
They were at the end of a narrow tunnel. Light from Frey’s lantern shone on damp brick. Droplets glinted in the light as they oozed free and plopped from the ceiling. There was a stone walkway on the near side, raised above the level of the scummed and foetid water. It had been stagnant for fifty years, and the stink was appalling. Clumps of unidentifiable muck bobbed near the mouldering body of a massive rat. Further up the tunnel, globules of congealed fat had formed a small white island.
Frey looked back at Pelaru. ‘You’re sure this is the way?’ he asked, rather hoping for a negative.
Pelaru brandished another piece of cloth with another map on it, this time a sketch of the sewer network. ‘Perfectly sure,’ he said.
They made their way into the sewers, sticking to the walkway. Crake hadn’t gone ten metres before he had to stop and throw up into the water. When he was done, he stood there wheezing, leaning on his knees, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
‘You alright?’ Frey asked him.
Crake gave him an accusing glare. ‘I thought I’d given up all dignity long ago when I joined this crew,’ he said. ‘But this? This is a new low, Frey.’
‘It’s character-building,’ said Frey. ‘Does you aristocrats good to get down in the shit with the rest of us every now and then.’ He gave Crake a comradely slap on the back of his pack, which inspired the daemonist to bring up what little was left in his stomach.
Pelaru led them deeper into the sewers. They passed through junctions and over little arched bridges that crossed the still water. The dark was oppressive, but it held no terrors for Frey, who’d seen plenty worse. Rats squabbled and splashed out of sight. The conflict in the streets above was too far away to be heard. Once, Frey spotted a pair of shining eyes watching them from beyond the range of the lantern light, and his heart jumped in his chest; but it was only Jez, who’d dropped behind and was tailing them.
Frey’s reservations about the mission began to fade. There didn’t seem to be any Awakeners down here. If darkness and stink were all they had to worry about, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He was about to say as much when a dreadful howl echoed through the sewers. It rose and fell like a klaxon; a bone-chilling, deathly sound that sawed at the nerves and set their teeth on edge.
‘Um,’ said Ashua, when silence had returned. ‘What was that?’
‘The wind?’ said Frey. It was a wishful suggestion at best.
‘That,’ said Crake, ‘was not the wind.’
Frey looked at Pelaru. ‘You said something about fictions?’ he prompted.
‘Tales,’ said Pelaru. ‘Rumours. That’s all.’
‘Enlighten us,’ Crake said.
‘Ever since the quake, people have told stories about this place. A ghost city must have its ghosts.’
‘But Blinn believed in them,’ Frey pointed out.
‘Blinn believed in a lot of things. Not all of them were real,’ Pelaru snapped, suddenly harsh.
‘Might be you thought that before,’ said Silo, his deep bass voice echoing in the tunnel. ‘Might be you were wrong.’
Pelaru cast him a poisonous glance, but said nothing.
‘Eyes peeled, everyone,’ said Frey, and they made their way onward.
They hadn’t gone far before they found a fissure in the tunnel wall, wide enough to enter one by one. Pelaru headed inside without explanation, and Frey went after him, holding his lantern up. He heard Crake struggling through, the pack on his back clanking, and Malvery squeezing in with a grunt.
‘Least we’re getting away from that damned stink,’ the doctor said, huffing out his moustaches.
The fissure widened quickly, opening out into an underground grotto. As their lanterns came through and light swelled, they saw that a chasm split the grotto from side to side, ten metres wide at its narrowest point.
Then Pelaru cried out, and Frey swung his lantern round to see what had excited him. Strung across the chasm were two thick ropes, one above the other. The first was set at shoulder-height, secured by pitons in the walls of the grotto. The other was at ground level, wrapped around spikes driven securely into the stone floor.
‘They were here!’ said Pelaru. He hurried over to examine the pitons. ‘Yes, yes. This is Yort metal; he had a set of these. It’s him!’
Malvery had gone over to the edge of the chasm and was looking down doubtfully. Silo tested the ropes, yanking on them hard, and tried his weight on the lower one.
‘Looks secure, Cap’n,’ said Silo.
But Malvery shook his head. ‘Uh-uh. You’re not gettin’ me on that. Not a chance.’
‘You scared of heights or something?’ Pinn sneered.
‘Nope,’ said Malvery. He was looking at Frey. ‘Just don’t fancy trustin’ my life to a piece of rope. Not when I don’t see the point of it.’
Frey saw the defiance in his eyes. There wasn’t much discipline on the Ketty Jay; it was loyalty that made them work well together, not fear of punishment. But Malvery’s loyalty had been eroded of late, with the civil war and all of that. The doc was giving him a push, to see what he’d do.
Frey recognised a man who was trying to start a fight. Malvery’s battle wasn’t with him, but with himself. And Frey wasn’t about to make anyone do anything they didn’t want to.
‘Fine,’ said Frey. ‘Stay. That goes for anyone else who doesn’t want to come. We’ll pick you up on the way back.’
‘Wait, he gets to stay?’ Pinn complained. ‘Alright then, I’m staying too.’
‘Scared of heights?’ Ashua asked sweetly.
Frey made a noise that indicated he didn’t much care whether Pinn came or not. ‘Anyone else?’
Ashua looked at the rope bridge and shrugged. ‘Looks pretty safe to me.’
‘Ain’t much of a thing,’ said Silo.
‘Between certain death and Pinn’s conversation, I know which one I’d choose,’ quipped Crake.
‘You’ve got sick in your beard,’ Pinn returned spitefully.
Jez took a running jump and cleared the chasm in a single bound. That shut them all up. Frey let his head sink into his hand.
‘Jez,’ he said. ‘You remember we had that talk about keeping your, er, condition under wraps?’ He waved a hand vaguely towards Pelaru, who was wearing a look of amazement on his face.
‘Sorry, Cap’n,’ she said, her eyes white discs in the dark. ‘Thought I’d save some time.’
Pelaru opened his mouth and closed it again.
‘Don’t ask,’ said Frey. ‘Let’s go.’
He left his lantern with Malvery and Pinn and walked over to the rope bridge. Not long ago he’d have let someone else take the risk of going first, but of late he’d developed a certain doggedness that surprised even himself. Anything that got between him and finding Trinica was an obstacle to be overcome, and the faster he got on with it, the better. He had a promise to keep, a purpose at last.
It was just a rope bridge, after all. With what he’d been through, it wasn’t that much of a challenge, surely?
The chasm wasn’t wide, but the black drop beneath his feet made it seem wider. He held on to the upper rope, which was taut, and tried the lower one with his feet. It was thick and as stable as he could hope for. Shuffling carefully side-foot, he made his way along it, hanging tight to the upper rope in case he slipped.
‘Don’t look down!’ Pinn called helpfully.
Frey, being a contrary sort, did exactly that. He regretted it immediately. The abyss sucked the courage out of him. He felt the heat drain from his body, his strength leaking away. Suddenly he was weak and frail and his position seemed terribly precarious. Until that moment, it had been possible to ignore how slim the margin for error was. Now he was reminded that one misstep would see him plunge into the chasm. And it was a long, long way down.
He tore his eyes away, doing his best to keep his face composed. The most important thing was not to look scared for the others. He knew they were watching him.