"No matter what happens, keep going until you reach the pump room. There'll be a maintenance hatch open there. The shafts are coded to the streets overhead, so you'll know where you're going," Harper told him as they went.
"But—"
"Just in case," Harper whispered. Far down the hall, he heard the distinct sound of Brandson's voice rising over the quiet. It would only be a moment before Brandson raised the alarm. Then the entire Inquisition House would be locked down and searched.
"Run," Harper told Edward.
They took the stairs fast and then tore across the distance of basement to reach the pump room. Just as Harper pulled the pump room door shut, the alarm began wailing through the halls. Harper helped Edward into the maintenance shaft.
"It's pitch black in here," Edward whispered.
"Keep climbing down through the next two hatches. I left a lamp there." Harper pulled the hatch above him shut and twisted it closed as tightly as he could. So long as no one thought to connect this escape with the maintenance shafts, he and Edward had a chance of escaping. Harper was betting that Brandson would search the building and surrounding streets first, assuming that the only escape could be above ground.
Despite his lack of faith, Harper prayed he was right.
Chapter Eight
Steam
Harper led Edward through shaft after shaft. For the first hour, they traveled in silence. The only noise came from the packs of water rats that scampered over the water pipes and scattered as Harper and Edward approached.
At last Edward whispered a few questions to Harper. He wanted to know where they were and how Harper knew. He asked why Harper had brought the old woman to him and why she had been killed. Harper gave him short, quick answers. It was the way they had always conversed.
Even in college, when he had been deep in his anatomical studies, Edward had been an extrovert. Silence was foreign to his nature. In the past, Edward's constant flow of conversation had annoyed Harper. Now Harper felt relieved to hear Edward's voice. The sound reassured Harper that he had not come too late. The Confessors had hurt Edward, but not destroyed him.
"I think Raddly might put us up for the night," Edward whispered as they crawled through a low shaft.
"Raddly...Didn't he vomit in a deacon's memorial urn?"
"Yes. But I think the port was to blame for that. He's a nice fellow."
Harper tilted the phosphor lamp back so that he could read the letters above an intersecting tunnel.
"We're directly under Bluerow Street," he whispered back to Edward.
"Lottie Hampston lived on Bluerow, didn't she?" Edward asked.
"I don't recall." Harper swung down into the larger shaft and then helped Edward through. The once-white bandages on Edward's arm were now soiled with grease and mold. Spots of blood seeped through.
"What about Waterstone?" Edward asked.
"Who?" Harper glanced back.
"Richard Waterstone. Don't you remember? He could go on about poetry for years."
"Was he covered with moles?" Harper had a clear memory of catching a young man named Richard in the showers. He had had a beautiful back with a line of three moles just above his ass.
"Beauty marks," Edward replied. "Yes, that was him. Why don't we go look him up?"
"I don't recall enough about him to think of why we would look him up, so I doubt I can speak to why we shouldn't," Harper replied.
They reached another hatch, and Harper crouched down to work it open. His arms were aching. Edward hunched down beside him.
"Waterstone's father is the owner of the Daily Word. Richard's got a position as chief editor. We could go to him with the story. He'd publish it, I'm sure."
"We don't have a story, Edward. We don't even have a witness right now." Harper tried not to sound angry. None of this was Edward's fault. Harper vented frustration on the hatch, twisting it open with a vicious jerk.
"Fine, then." Edward followed Harper through the hatch. "I give up. Where are we going?"
"Down." Harper smiled as he at last caught sight of the ladder he had been looking for. He tested his weight against its corroded iron rungs. It still held.
"Do you think you can climb one-handed?" Harper asked.
"I think so," Edward replied.
Harper went first. Edward followed. The phosphor lamp swung from side to side as Harper climbed. Its pale green light swept through the shadows of the ladder, casting patterns of crosses and rungs down into the darkness below. Distantly, Harper heard the hiss of steam pistons.
"You know, Waterstone used to have this theory that you were half-Prodigal," Edward said from above him.
"Really?" Harper snorted at the thought. "What in the name of God gave him that idea?"
"I think it started with the gloves."
"Hmm." Harper slowed his descent, realizing that the climb was harder for Edward than he would admit.
"You always seemed to be keeping something back. You know, all the other lads were so desperate to talk their heads off, and you never seemed to want to tell anyone anything. You always stood out that way. Waterstone was still rolling the idea around last time I talked to him. Not seriously. It just settled into a private joke between the two of us."
"I wish he were right," Harper replied. "Then I might have some Prodigal power to call on instead of just climbing down from here."
"Being able to fly would be rather handy right now, wouldn't it," Edward agreed.
The cut in Harper's palm throbbed each time he gripped a rung of the ladder. He glanced up to see how Edward was handling the climb. He moved slowly but smiled when he noticed Harper watching him.
"It's funny," Edward continued, "that Waterstone never said a thing about Joan."
"What?" Harper almost lost his grip. The lamp hanging from his forearm rocked wildly, flashing green light up into his face.
"He never suspected Joan, even though he met her dozens of times. She hid it so well, I don't think anyone would have suspected."
"How long have you known?" Harper asked.
"It took me a while to work the whole thing out. But after our honeymoon, I was pretty sure. There are some things that just can't be hidden when the two of you are...close."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Harper asked.
"I suppose I was waiting for her to confide in me." Edward shook his head. "If I had known how little time we would have together, I wouldn't have waited. It was so easy to imagine her being with me forever. I thought we had all the time in the world."
"I'm sorry." It was all Harper could say without betraying Joan's trust. He continued climbing down. He went slowly, making sure that Edward didn't fall too far behind him.
"I always wondered if you knew," Edward said. "I thought you did, but you never let on at all."
"If it had been my choice, I would have told you."
"I know."
They continued climbing. Harper couldn't think of anything to say. Edward always began their conversations, so Harper remained silent until Edward spoke again.
"I always wondered how you worked in the Inquisition and had a Prodigal sister at the same time." Edward's voice was quiet, almost tentative. He rarely spoke with such caution. Harper glanced up at him to see if something was wrong.