Call of the Abyss [Book 2 Complete]

Julia walked at a steady clip, the crowd of the South Quarter parting around Cass's bulk like a river around a stone. She'd been surprised to find Cass waiting outside the tavern. Julia's party hadn't been strict in their waking and breakfast routine, so she wondered how long Cass had been waiting out there—let alone how she'd found them in the first place.

She'd offered to give them a guided tour of the Quarter while refusing to answer any questions, always with some excuse along the lines of, "You'll see."

She guided them through the narrowing streets, which grew tighter and more crowded the farther they went. Gone were the well-maintained—if patchwork—buildings. The surroundings grew ever bleaker, and maintenance seemed an afterthought at best. Many structures with obvious signs of deterioration were propped up by scraps of wood rigged into supports, the wood itself likely harvested from another, already-collapsed structure.

Cass had explained that this district had already been in disrepair, being an older site for commerce even before the elves moved in. The city had formed around the Blue, growing in a sort of ringed perimeter around the lake. As it grew so substantially that it eventually filled the crater entirely, the inner sections close to the water were largely abandoned.

Quarters began to grow specialized, and there was less interest in ferrying goods across the water. The West Quarter, for example, was largely the artisan district. It was there one would purchase goods and services such as construction, carpentry, and related crafts.

Knowing this was the case, merchants would direct their cargo to the appropriate district in advance, simply journeying to the respective gate rather than entering the city through another gate and paying the fee to ferry their goods across the lake. A bit of extra travel was often more economical than dealing with both the cost and logistics of ferrying cargo.

There was still substantial movement over the water, but the larger industries that once owned and occupied the various warehouses and stores in the South Quarter had largely moved elsewhere.

According to Cass, this was a process that took place over many decades, and it was only in the last year or two that elves had begun settling there. They did so for many reasons. Verona had already mentioned a few, such as difficulty both buying and renting property elsewhere. However, the main reason was that all the abandoned buildings were essentially free dwellings.

It was true that some wealthy patron might come along and purchase an abandoned warehouse, which would mean all the squatters would be forced out, but that was unlikely given the general state of the South Quarter. Trade seldom took place here, and even business owners like Verona and Ereth catered mostly to South Quarter residents, hence why Verona was so pleased to have actual visitors—most from the South Quarter weren't seeking lodgings, let alone expensive ones.

"Are those windmills? There are so many," Julia observed as the group drew farther from the lake, headed toward the crater's edge.

The elevation climbed steadily as they gained distance from the center. The crater was apparently much steeper near the walls, but the ground had been graded as the city developed, flattened into a steady incline from lake to rim rather than sharp at the edges. Though that meant the trip from center to perimeter was completely uphill, it was more pleasant than drastic changes in elevation.

"Aye, they're windmills. Those are the milleries—we're headed there first, so you might as well save your questions till we get there," Cass called over her shoulder.

"The atmosphere has changed," Sahira remarked quietly.

Julia and the others nodded. It was noticeably more subdued the farther they got from the lake. Eyes were generally down, people staring at the ground as they walked. Faces were smudged with grime, clothes tattered and worn.

People seemed somehow slow in their hurry. She could tell that everyone was in a rush to get somewhere, but whether due to having low energy, not having enough sleep, or any other combination of factors, their actual walking speed was slow, some literally dragging their feet.

As they approached one of the huge buildings, Julia marveled at the windmill atop it. It almost seemed that the entire building was part of the windmill. The foundation of the structure was stone, shifting to timber on its second level, which sort of tapered toward the windmill positioned in the center of the roof.

The windmill's frame was strong timber, though she could spy the reflection of sun off iron, suggesting it was bolstered by iron fittings. The sails seemed to be made of some kind of fabric—canvas, or maybe hemp? Julia had only ever seen windmills in passing during travel, so having the opportunity to admire one up close was a treat.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Cass said with a small smile, ushering the group toward one of the windows.

Julia looked inside to see a robust and large-scale operation. There was a huge stack of brown bags in a pile on the floor of one side of the warehouse. Workers seemed to be ferrying those sacks over their shoulders toward what must be the base of the mill. Strangely, the mill seemed to be turning, despite the actual sails up top remaining motionless.

"Enjoyin' the show?" a gruff voice spat from the side.

Julia looked over to see an old elf with gray hair ringing the sides of his head, while the top was completely bald. He had a bowl of food in his hands, which Julia noted were worn and rough, with dirty and broken fingernails. He had a rough face, as if his skin bore the weight of his many years, and he stood in a hunch that looked permanent rather than posture.

"Sorry?" Julia asked.

"Asked if yer was enjoyin' the show," he clarified, tone unchanged.

"Apologies if we are bothering you. We were merely looking around. We've been informed that most of our kind live in this Quarter," Ithshar said, stepping up beside Julia, likely expecting Julia to give a glib response—which was annoying, because she had been about to.

The old man inspected them, his naked hostility drawing back to curiosity.

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"New 'round here, then?" he asked.

Ithshar and the rest nodded, and the old man grunted and returned to spooning what looked like porridge.

"Do you work here?" Julia asked, given that he was eating while leaning against the building.

"Aye, my misfortune," he replied, not looking up from his meal.

"What's the misfortune, if you don't mind my asking?" Sahira said.

"Keep watchin', then. You'll see fer yerself," he grunted with a nod toward the building.

Julia returned to her inspection of the warehouse interior. This time, however, she noticed the people rather than what they were carrying. They seemed hunched over similarly to the old man, and she noticed for the first time that these were not normal millers.

The millers she'd seen in Striton and Rockyknoll were stout men and women that looked like they could carry the entire world on their backs, should the need arise.

These elves were hunched, their eyes sunken and dark, their frames bereft of both muscle and fat. The longer she looked, the more impressed she was that they could lift those huge bags at all.

"Are they…alright?" Julia whispered subconsciously, not intending to speak aloud.

"Aye, we's the lucky ones," the old man said without looking up.

"Sorry? How is that lucky?" Julia responded before she could correct herself, realizing it might be impolite to insinuate that they—he—were anything but unlucky.

"Least we get a wage ter keep. Least we's free. Lots'a folks here ain't. They're debtors, and if yer a debtor, ya go to the wheel," he said with disdain, though Julia was unsure whether the disdain was for the debtors, the work, or the situation in general.

"What exactly is 'the wheel'?" Talnîr asked.

To everyone's surprise, the old man laughed. It was a dry cackle that sounded more like a hyena's bark than any sort of good cheer—though Julia had never heard a hyena bark.

"Take a look. It ain't complicated. Mill's gotta run whether there's wind or no—and there ain't never no wind makin' it over them crater walls," the old man explained, pointing to one side of the warehouse through the window.

Julia gasped in shock.

There was a great wheel occupying a corner of the warehouse, though "corner" was deceptive, as the wheel was so large that its "corner" was a solid fourth of the entire warehouse. It was so large that Julia hadn't even noticed it before, thinking it part of the structure of the warehouse itself. It was elevated above the warehouse floor, with a grate that seemed to sift crushed grain, ensuring there was a constant flow of unmilled grain in and milled flour out.

The wheel was made of logs and timber, and it looked to be heavier than a house. There were great arms of wood stretched out at regular intervals around the circumference of the wheel, and each arm had two elves pushing it. If the sack-bearers were rough-looking, these poor elves were absolutely haggard.

Most were bent over at the waist nearly ninety degrees, using their entire bodies to push. They were universally gaunt, their skin seeming stretched directly across bones, with no intermediate tissue between. Julia thought she might be able to count each individual rib, which was possible due to many of the elves' states of unclothed. None were fully nude, but many were either missing garments altogether, or they were covered with so many large holes that the effect was the same.

"Why are—don't millwrights usually use beasts of burden to power a mill when there's no wind?" Julia asked of no one in particular.

"Ha! We are the beasts of burden 'round here, lass," the old man declared with a sour chuckle.

Even as Julia watched, one of the older folks pushing the wheel—for there were elves of all ages present—tripped and fell, smashing his face into the ground. An elf that was standing just beyond the wheel, watching the work with a disapproving look motioned to one of the other elves returning to fetch another bag of grain.

The elf left the bagging line and dragged the old man out of the path of the wheel pushers—though not before he was stepped on a few times. The supervisor—Julia assumed that's who the disapproving elf was—motioned to someone else in the bagging line, who took the old man's place at the wheel with a resigned expression.

"I thought the baggers didn't have to push the wheel?" Julia asked.

"Not all in the baggin' line is free. Only so many spots on the wheel, so the supervisor swaps 'em out to keep 'em fresh. Delicate balance, pushin' people right to the edge but not over. Gotta keep 'em healthy enough to push the wheel, but just that. Anythin' else'd be too expensive," he said, spitting to the side.

"You said they're debtors? Whom do they owe, and what?" Ithshar asked.

"All manner of things," Cass said from the side, her arms crossed in front of her, still watching through the window. "When the rules and regulations began to disproportionately target elves, many sought any means available to them to hold onto their property and the lives they were used to.

"There were many that moved in to prey on the desperate and the downtrodden, and you'll find that the insane becomes more and more appealing the emptier your belly.

"These desperate people took loans to keep up with increasing property taxes or the increased cost for staple goods due to certain sellers refusing their business. It has a compounding effect: things become more expensive, take out a loan to cover the increasing costs, the costs outpace even the loan, and now you're both poor and in debt.

"City doesn't have any real regulations for how debt is collected, so you get what you see here: slavery, essentially. These debtors work from sunup to sundown, and they make no coin for it. Any coin they'd normally be paid is withheld by their 'employers' and goes against their total debt.

"They live in dorms owned and operated by their creditors, they eat meals provided by their creditors, and their wages are confiscated by their creditors. Now, let me ask you: how do you know if you've paid your debt if you don't know how much you've made? How do you know you're free if the creditor doesn't specifically tell you?"

Julia's face was drawn tight, her brow furrowed. So, basically these creditors use the elves as free labor, and Cass even seemed to hint that they would be disincentivized to notify the elves that their debt had been paid, as they could continue using them even beyond their debt repayment, as long as a higher authority, like the city, didn't step in and force the creditors to release—or at least start paying—them.

"Aye, tha's why I say we's the lucky ones. It ain't much, but leastways I can buy a strip of jerky on my way home tonight. Them debtors, they only get the gruel," the old man said, holding up his empty bowl of mush.

Julia must have made a face, as the old man laughed bitterly.

"Not to yer taste, young lady? Don't blame ya. They's oats from another shop jus' down the way. They soak 'em overnight in water, then give 'em to us for all three meals," he said with a grimace.

"Come, this is only our first stop. We have much ground to cover, and 'free' as our fellow may be, he'll still be in trouble should the supervisors find him lingering during his lunch break," Cass said, heading away from the warehouse.

Julia shook her head as she followed, dreading what else they were going to see.