NOVEL NEXT Chapter 81: A Broken Dam
Rowan believed he'd been swallowed by the Downhill itself as he descended staircases, ramps, and cobbled streets into the underbelly of the city where he'd lived his entire life. It was a living, breathing creature, and as the maw of the lower city opened up, familiarity disappeared with it. Each shop they passed opened to another world—a shadow street behind the real one, hidden down alleyways, staircases, and sewers, carefully drained by hidden grates to protect from the constant storm. It was through these that Kess led them, steps confident, but posture slumped and unnoticeable under her cloak.
Rowan had never seen anything quite like it. If anyone had asked him before tonight, he would have said that he lived Downhill, but now he wasn't sure. The Redring manor was on the edge of the lower city, where streets were swept and clean, and respectable shops did business—before the storm, anyway.
The storm hadn't ended things for the real Downhill—if anything, business was livelier down here in the bowels of the city, sheltered from the pounding rain and wind overhead. Rowan couldn't shake the faint discomfort that came from not fitting in, and indeed, eyes followed him in spite of his best attempts to emulate Kess.
Kess dodged the grip of beggars, stinking and damp in the alleyways, their hands sometimes diseased as they reached towards the boots of passerby. Children huddled in clumps, eyes haunted and hungry. Rowan wanted to help, but even he knew better than to flash wealth down here—he'd already nearly been robbed several times without a quick flash of a knife from Kess.
There were more respectable streets too—those on the dry inside of the mountain, littered with taverns, people, and fighting rings. The storm had not stopped the city's love for brawling, and if anything, the fighting taverns seemed to enjoy large, boisterous crowds. Here, wealth did flash, as people bet on rings, took their winnings to other taverns, and lost them all in yet another bet. The streets were drier and better lit, though it was still a cave.
They passed the entrance to a tavern where two women fought, and Kess's steps slowed. One woman wore blue, the other red as they dodged each other's blows. Both were winded and bloody, and Rowan had a difficult time telling who was winning. Kess paused and cocked her head, something calculating in her gaze. She held out her hand to Rowan.
"Copper," she said, still watching the ring. Wordlessly, Rowan dug out the smallest denomination of mining from where Kess had suggested he keep his coin purse, tied tightly near his chest.
"Kess, what—"
But she was gone, weaving into the tavern proper. She leaned over a table of men playing cards near the ring, whispering something into the ear of one of them. The man gave her a proprietary once over that pissed Rowan off, then nodded. Her coin joined their pile, and she stood there for several moments, arms crossed. The men laughed, clearly thinking she'd gotten the bad end of the bet. One of them shrugged at her as if to say, suit yourself.
One of the women in the ring swung, slamming her fist into the other with a crack. She fell hard, the light gone from her eyes, and the tavern erupted. At Kess's table, the men stared at the ring, open-mouthed, disbelief in their eyes. Kess calmly swept their pile of coins into an awaiting bag and stuffed it deep inside her shirt.
That was when one of the men got to his feet, the squeal of the chair silencing the tavern. His eyes bulged from his head and a thick vein pulsed in his neck as he grabbed Kess by the front of her shirt, picking her up off the ground.
Rowan was moving before he knew what he was doing, his own hand on his sword, but Kess held out a hand to him as she calmly stared the man down.
"To hell with that, wench," he spat. "Give us the coin back. You swindled us. You knew the match was fixed!" His face blossomed red as he held Kess's feet off the ground. She watched him calmly, then put her hand on top of his, letting Fulminancy blossom there where it touched. Down here, few knew Mariel's face, but everyone recognized Fulminancy. The man watched tendrils of blue light crawl up his arm and dropped her immediately, eyes wide. He backed up just a touch. "I don't want trouble with a bleedin' witch," he said, his legs hitting the table when he could back up no more.
Kess smiled at him pleasantly, though it didn't meet her eyes. "Then don't attack people until you know what they're capable of," she said. She left the tavern to the stares of the patrons, a bewildered Rowan in tow.
It took several minutes of weaving through the amber-lit streets before Rowan finally realized that Kess hadn't just bet his copper mining. "What was that all about?" he asked.
"We need coin to speak with the person I'm taking us to," Kess said, looking over her shoulder. She'd done so several times after leaving the tavern. An old habit, Rowan supposed.
"We have coin, though," he said. Kess just shook her head.
"Have you ever tried to spend gold down here?"
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"Well, no—"
"And do you see any banks to make change?" Rowan said nothing, following her. While he'd faked living Downhill all these years, Kess had really done it, and she had the survival skills to boot. He was certain that without her, he'd have been robbed blind several times by now. He sighed as they turned another corner, the underground streets growing dimmer again.
"Then what was the rest of it about?" he asked. Kess shrugged, glancing down a side street.
"I did know it was fixed," she said simply. "But that doesn't mean I didn't deserve my coin." There was something evasive in her gaze—something that went further than what had happened. Rowan watched her small face beneath her hood, trying to decipher it. Was it worry? Fear? No. It was pride.
"Have you ever done that before?" he asked quietly.
"Swindled people or—"
"The other part, with Fulminancy."
"No," she said, her voice quiet. "If I'd tried that months ago, I would have blown that tavern sky high." A chill ran down Rowan's spine, though he supposed it could also be the moist air creeping into the streets they now wound through. They had descended even further, away from the lights and heat of the taverns and rings, to a part of the lower city that Rowan wasn't sure even looked like a city anymore.
Actual caves branched off in places from ramshackle buildings and tents, not unlike the underground portion of the Archives. Down here, people weren't afraid to use wood, and many residences were simply thrown together with rotting scrap wood, some of it charred from its time aboveground. Kess wove expertly through the tents and buildings, and Rowan found it hard to spot the graceful highborn woman beneath the small urchin who now prowled in front of him, eyes careful and watchful as they descended into the belly of the beast. Perhaps it was just as well, because Rowan didn't know how much longer she could balance the two identities.
A few moments later, Kess tugged Rowan into a smaller series of twisting caves, feeling a little smug about her bet earlier. Fulminancy had its advantages, but a sharp eye for a fight could be just as powerful. Rowan was still painfully out of place, but at least she now had the coin to deal with Malane. It wouldn't keep the woman from leaving Kess for dead again, but it would encourage her to talk, at least.
Kess passed a few more tents and finally stopped at a rounded passageway that cut away from the main path, littered with wealth and junk alike. Malane sat on a throne of boxes and rugs in the back, somehow comfortable in spite of the damp chill of the air. Her face remained tanned even in the dark of the underground, and though Kess knew stories suggested she was a much older woman, she looked no older than fifty, perhaps.
Kess had been here once before, on a night when her powers had threatened to consume her. She'd had nowhere else to go. Desperate and still foolishly rich from her flight from Uphill, she'd paid the right people until she'd ended up at the woman's metaphorical doorstep. The money had, unfortunately, left quite a trail. It was one of Kess's hardest learned lessons of the underground—make sure you're never noticed.
For the right price, at least, the woman had helped her, though Kess had no illusions that she might help her now. Malane ruled down here and chose what she would or would not help with, regardless of the money that had been offered. But Kess had to try. If Malane knew how to keep Rowan safe, if there was a chance, however small, that Kess could mitigate some of the damage, then she would take it.
"Well, well, I haven't seen your stunted little self down here in years, Kess." The woman's accented voice rang loudly through the caverns. It was the voice of a woman who had nothing to fear by being noticed. Where she was from, Kess could only guess. Malane's dark eyes ran up and down Kess's figure, appraising, seeming to see right through her. "And you've grown so much. Why, I almost doubt you need my help with that much power churning about inside of you. You even stopped limiting it! How delightful."
Kess threw the bag of coins she'd won in the tavern at the woman's feet with a muted thud. "I need help," she said, voice curt. She held Malane's eyes as the woman opened the bag and dug through it with a long nail, clinking coins together. Malane's eyes shot back up to Kess's face, and she shoved the coins deep inside her robes.
"You have my attention, at least," she said. "Though for how long, I cannot promise." Kess fished her locket from underneath her shirt, holding it up. The air warped slightly around it, twisting Malane's face into a macabre image. Her eyes glinted as she watched it twirl in the air.
"You know what this is?" Kess asked.
"Do you take me for a fool, girl? Of course I know what it is."
"Then this should be easy," Kess said, watching the woman carefully. There was nothing to suggest that Malane had changed over the years, and while Malane had helped her that one time, years ago, she'd also turned her into the Witchblades for good measure. "I want to transfer some of my powers to him. How do we do it safely?" Kess jerked her head back at Rowan, who stepped forward tentatively.
Malane eyed them both, something sour in her gaze. "Safely?" she asked, letting out a little cackle. She leaned back on her boxes. "There's nothing safe about it. They're designed to take power, not give it back."
"But it's possible?" Kess asked. Malane nodded, folding her arms.
"Temporarily," she said. "It's attuned to you, so the effect won't last long, even if you're lucky enough to not have lasting issues." Kess frowned. She hadn't expected that answer.
"How long do we have?"
"Hours, perhaps," Malane said. "But we're talking best-case scenario, girl. With that much Active Fulminancy piled up inside you, it might just backfire and kill you, anyway." She smiled and shrugged. "Then you won't have to worry about it at all, I suppose."
"We balanced it," Kess protested.
"Did you?" Malane cocked her head at Kess, and she had that strange sensation that someone was seeing through her again. "No, my dear, true balance happens over time." She waved a dismissive hand, adjusting on her boxes. "You can't right it overnight with those shenanigans. Children do that in the streets." She met Kess's eyes, smirking. "You can patch a broken dam, but eventually it overflows."