Smoke and Iron-Legends of Silva-Book 1

Chapter 8-Never a Dull Moment

Unfortunately I can only spare a few moments watching them, as I have a thief who is owed payment. A payment that I must grudgingly deliver tonight. Moving away from the rack, I head over to my clothes and gear hanging on the wall. Shucking back on my shirt, cloak, and belt, I head to the other side of the chamber and push through the brass door, and into the dark hall.

Heading back up the steps, I reach the hidden door leading to the main floor of the building beyond. I pull on the iron holder set into the stone wall, the hidden door swinging open as I step into the candlelit room.

With quiet steps I head back up to my room, ears strained for the noises of others. Thankfully, all I hear are soft snores of Reapers who are not assigned for patrol tonight. Even better is that Ren is assigned for patrol and is probably already out, scouring the streets for perpetrators.

Tonight is my last day of the week off from patrol, and my only chance to keep my identity from being discovered. Then I will have to use the rest of the night to find the Ghost, or my hopes of freedom will be dashed and Talber will end up swinging by his neck. A fact that does not escape me as I dress in a simple gray shirt and black pants.

I replace my black cloak for a jacket of brown leather, and my sword for a simple dagger. I also tuck my set of daggers into my boots and under my sleeves, the bag with the obsidian blade I tie into a hard knot onto my belt. Lastly I place my Reaper gear in a sack, carefully placing each weapon in with great care. That done, I head back down to the main floor on silent feet. With a quick glance around the room, I walk over to another shelf of books across from the one leading to the hidden chamber.

This time I pull a simple brown cloth covered book on the shelf, and a door opens to another set of hidden stairs. The stairs lead down to a large corridor with three passages carved into the stone. Torches light the room with an eerie glow casting shadows onto the wall and floor. My feet take me into the passage on my right, a passage filled with cracks and moss dripping with water. The journey through the passage takes almost an hour, an hour filled with the sound of dripping water and the squeak of mice and rats.

The passage curves and twists in the darkness, while the roar of the river filters through the layers of rock and stone. A passage connected to an intricate web of tunnels, that I and the rest of the Reapers use to quickly go from one part of the city to the other. This passage just so happens to lead into the dangerous streets of the Iron Quarter. The passage to a hidden courtyard. Reaching the end of the tunnel, I go up a set of spiral stairs that stop at a solid stone wall.

Pushing my hand on one of the stones, it moves deeper into the wall, making the stone barrier move forward and to the side. Revealing a small ivy covered courtyard surrounded by thick stone. Stepping into the courtyard, I breathe in the scent of wet moss and wood smoke. The door closes behind me, leaving a small bronze gate as the only apparent entrance.

Long strands of ivy curve over the stone walls, while a dark bronze fountain stands in the middle of the courtyard. Water trickles into the basin from the cupped hands of a figure draped in a cloak of bronze. A hood covers the figure's face while a raven perches on their shoulder. This subdued depiction of the Raven King is a far cry from the mural in the Reaper quarters.

Moving through the courtyard, I hear the sound of the beginnings of the night's revelries to come. The distant voices of tavern goers and the merry tunes of pipes and lyres fill the air. Before I leave the courtyard, I place my sack of gear inside a hidden niche in the wall for safekeeping. Opening the gate, I step into a dimly lit alley so narrow, that only two people could walk abreast through it. The old bell towers signal the hour, the groans of clanging bronze filling the air. Then the large clock overlooking the canal in the distance, joins in the cacophony as the hands strike the third hour of the evening. Gazing at the sky, I see the clouds beginning to darken, blocking out the sun in a veil of black and gray.