Marigold, to his surprise, offered to accompany him to the surface.
"I haven't been topside in a little while," she explained, as they rode the service elevator. It was the closet transport from the Boss' headquarters, fronted as a bar known as the Derelect Inspector.
"I suppose the boss keeps you busy," Adrian remarked, trying to make conversation. Talking made being around Stenman's chief lieutenant easier.
Marigold gave him an appraising look, and smirked. "I suppose this is the part where you probe for the real reason I'm coming with you on this trip," she said, using his own phrasing to mock him. "Shall we do each other the courtesy of honest talk, boy?"
"I suppose so. Can I know why you're accompanying me?" Adrian asked, careful to be as polite as he could manage.
"It can't hurt. Xavier's worried about you. He wants an update from someone who won't just tell him 'it's fine'," Marigold explained.
"That makes sense," Adrian said.
"Of course it does. Xavier would have you thrown in an incinerator if he thought you were going to sell him out. And he'd send someone else if you just needed help making arrangements," Marigold said.
"So, are you thinking about making a run for the surface?" She asked.
The question made Adrian's heart stop.
He nearly stammered out a rapid denial, but his own fear held him in check for just a moment. Just long enough for him to nod.
He fully expected to see Marigold's eyes start to blaze and fire to erupt from her fingertips. Her response, a soft smile, was another shock.
"Testing your honesty. Of course you're thinking of escaping right now, Keates," Marigold said. "You wouldn't be worth the esteem Xavier holds you in, if you weren't considering it."
Adrian waited, mutely, for her to speak again.
"So what have you thought about? You know Xavier's powerful. How have you imagined your escape going?" Marigold asked.
"Poorly," Adrian admitted. He sighed, and decided to explain. "Xavier's reach is long, and the life of a single Undercity rat isn't expensive to squish. I don't have the contacts to hide, and I don't have the resources to develop those contacts. Even if I tried to change that, the boss might suspect I'm trying to make a move on him, especially if I'm collecting favours without any returns."
Marigold listened with an expression that told Adrian absolutely nothing.
"So if I ran, I'd have to run into the arms of an agency that would take me in, despite my criminal history. An agency strong enough to work against Xavier's influence," Adrian finished.
Marigold nodded. "The Orderlies?" she asked.
The Orderlies didn't operate in the Undercity, much as they and Parliament might wish to be able to police the mines and its people.
Adrian shook his head, emphatically. "Never that. The boss has been good to me. I couldn't try to take what I know to them."
Marigold smiled again. "Good."
To Adrian's relief, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a soft hiss.
"That was a test? Just that?" Adrian asked, as Marigold started walking down the hall. Dozens of eyes watched them carefully, from various parts of the hall that surrounded the elevator.
"Of course someone needed to assess you. You know enough to hurt his position. You've done enough to be worth the bribes that kept your sister in a hospice bed in Central. That's not small stuff, Keates. It's the kind of stuff I make sure doesn't burn him."
To his surprise, Marigold stopped in front of a window, and examined what she could see of her reflection. She frowned, her mouth scrunching up to the side of her face. She paused there for a long moment, took a pair of small metal rods out of her coat pocket, and started tying back her hair.
"Meeting a contact?" Adrian asked.
"The best contact in Research we've ever had," Marigold admitted, to Adrian's surprise. "By a long shot. So as of right now, we don't know each other. Go see to your sister's remains, and report back to Xavier."
Adrian nodded, and turned away.
"Oh, and Adrian?" Marigold asked.
"Aye?"
"I'm sorry. The City is a cruel place."
Adrian nodded and walked ahead, darting to the right and keeping his head down as he passed the sight of a clean, well groomed man wearing a rust-red coat.
Adrian blinked a few times, and nearly swore aloud.
A Crafter!
He had once seen Marigold kill six grown men with fire conjured out of thin air. Fire so hot it boiled the brains through the eye sockets and warped the skull. Burns that bored clean through a chest. Metal knives bent like they were placed back in the forge.
And once, a few months ago, when someone asked what she was doing down here, Marigold had said "I was rejected for not being strong enough in the Craft."
Musing on his own fear, Adrian nearly missed Marigold as she ran up to that Crafter, threw her arms around and kissed him.
Adrian gawked for only a moment, until he saw one of Marigold's hands leave the Crafter's shoulder, and flick out at Adrian, in a gesture Adrian understood immediately.
"Go away." Marigold may as well have said to him.
Adrian smirked as he left, wondering if Marigold was trying to get out of the Undercity, or if this Crafter was her contact in Research.
Adrian marched out of the hall, and stepped into the narrow streets, gritting his teeth as he prepared to look at the sky.
It still hurt, to look at something that didn't seem to have an end. To look up at something and not be able to gauge how far away it was. He could see stars, one of three moons he had learned about, and would realize he was staring into a distance so immense he may as well not be seeing anything at all. It was, somehow, exactly like looking into darkness.
It wasn't Adrian's first time looking up, and after a few deep breaths, he managed to find it unremarkable enough to ignore as he made his way to the tram lines.
The first thing about Central Adrian always noticed, and was always shocked by, was how clean it was. The streets were bare slabs of stone, worn and polished by hundreds of thousands of boots pounding on them daily. The towering buildings were largely unblemished, and the absence of any pronounced smell from the thousands of people Adrian passed made him feel profoundly out of place.
He walked for little more than a quarter-mile before he reached a tram station. Even at this hour, well past sunset, the station was filled with people, making boarding the train difficult and more than a little awkward.
He was dirty, and he probably smelled fairly awful. He knew these things, but beneath the City, it hardly mattered. Up here, with clean air and plentiful water, his dirt-littered work clothes and the smell of ash and grime caused even the politest people he passed to flinch and avert their eyes.
There was a time Adrian would have hated them for it, but his time with the Porters had taught him a strange truth.
The averted gaze, the downcast eyes, and the deliberate attempts to ignore him was not scorn. Scorn was expressed, in sneers and spit and blows. What he received from the people forced to share the train with him was not disgust.
It was shame.
Knowing that made the fifteen minute ride easier to tolerate, and Adrian let it pass in silence. Instead, he stared out the nearby window, and watched.
Firelight from lamps dotted the scene, passing in a blur of orange light as the train swept by. Narrow streets stretch on in impossibly long, arrow-straight rows of lights. Tall towers stretched hundreds of feet over the train, and joining together in a spiralling network of causeways and platforms that made up High Central.
Adrian watched as the train passed enough apartments and homes to house all of the Undercity. Between High Central and Central four million people lived; near a tenth of the City's entire population. Each massive tower was an apartment complex that could house thousands.
And every one of those towers had running water and heat. Unbelievable luxuries of the Undercity were expected for those lucky enough to be born above ground.
Adrian nearly missed his stop, and mused over thanking the man who bumped into him. He stepped out and followed the string of lights for a few minutes, until he rounded a corner and stepped through a small gate covered in leafy vines.
The smell of the air forced him to stop, as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The smell, of wet earth and air that somehow tasted richer, was an instant relief to stresses Adrian didn't know he had. As if the smell opened something inside of him, tears began to trickle slowly down his face.
He didn't bother to wipe them away as he walked through the garden surrounding the Riverwash Hospice. He let himself wear them, with pride, as he finally let himself begin to grieve.
He was met at the entrance by a man in loose-fitting black clothes, who leaned casually against the doorway. His only response to Adrian's approach was to raise an eyebrow, and say "You're well past visiting hours."
"I know. I'm here to make arrangements for my sister's remains. Deadra Keates. I'm her brother."
The man at the gate's eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes seemed to disappear in shadow. "Your name, boy?"
"Adrian."
The man nodded, and Adrian finally noticed the man's hands were resting on a pair of knives at his belt. Adrian also noticed the small piece of Obsidian on the pommel of one of those knives.
"You can go inside. Ashes are kept near the Kiln. Head straight down the hall, last door on your left. If anyone asks, tell them who you are, why you're here, and that you walked through the front door. No one will bother you," the man said.
Adrian nodded. "She was cremated already?"
"Standard practice. Riverward doesn't have an Ice Box to keep bodies," the man said, smiling and holding his hands out. "And I'm sorry about your sister."
Adrian mumbled his thanks and stepped through the door, crossing the polished stone corridor in a straight line as the shadow had directed. He passed a few people, all dressed in white, but one of them stopped to confront him.
He reached the end of the hall and opened the door, and found he had to push hard as hot air pushed its way against and through. Adrian gritted his teeth and shoved, slipping through the doorway once he could.
The only person in the room, who stood in a small corner looking over some papers, looked up as Adrian stepped inside.
"Did you come in through the front door?" The woman in the corner asked.
"Yeah. Nice guy, for an evaluator."
"What are you here for?"
"My sister's ashes. Daedra Keates."
"Oh burn me, you're Adrian. I am so sorry," she exclaimed, reaching over to a nearby shelf and taking one of the small metal boxes.
She walked over to him, and offered it to him. "We all loved that girl. Every moment we had with her was precious."
"I suspect the price for her bed helped your opinion of her." Adrian muttered irritably.
The woman's smile vanished. "Don't be cruel. We can't find pure alcohol for sterilizing surgical tools anywhere else. Having her here has saved a dozen lives in the last three months. We would have given a raging Crafter her bed if it meant what your boss has been offering us."
"Yeah."
"She kept asking us to tell you to get out, if we ever saw you. She loved you. Wouldn't talk about much except how proud of you she was. Said you went through hell to get her to us." The woman said, and there were tears in her eyes. "So do her a favour, and get out of the Undercity. I'd offer you a job here, if I could."
But she wouldn't. Xavier's reach already extended here. Even that shadow outside the door wouldn't slow his boss down.
"Don't worry about me." Adrian said, as he tucked the box under his arm.
He didn't say anything else to her as he stepped out of the room. He managed to make it to the entrance before he had to say anything else.
The shadow was blocking the doorway. His rather innocuous presence was somehow very menacing. "Adrian. What does your boss want with this place?"
Adrian stopped, and nearly dropped the box. Clenching his firsts, and taking a deep breath, Adrian met the Shadow's gaze, and said "Honestly? I don't know. Daedra wasn't anyone special, except to me."
The shadow nodded, but didn't move out of Adrian's path. Adrian waited, nervous, until the shadow said "You can spread her ashes in the Channel. Best place I can think of to say goodbye. If anyone gives you trouble, tell them Starson Vontusk authorized an off-hours pilgrimage."
"Pilgrimage?" Adrian asked, confused.
"Everyone in the City is supposed to take one, before they turn eighteen. Take the train to Founding Station, and walk the three mile perimeter around the Spire. Witness what the Crafters did to save us from the Gloam, and if you have an odd urges to sneak off and get closer, let someone know. Being a potential would change your life pretty quickly," Starson explained.
"I doubt that." Adrian said. He rolled up his sleeve, awkwardly cradling the box as he pulled it up over his elbow.
"Ah," Starson said, as his eyes lingered over the length of twisted tissue that ran from just above Adrian's wrist to over his elbow. "Nasty burn. Reject?"
"A work team enforcer. When I was ten years old," Adrian explained. "He told me the next one would be a hole through the same spot."
"They're capable of it," Starson said. "Scary thought is that they're the ones that didn't earn the coat. I wouldn't want to know what a Crafter is capable of."
Adrian noticed the evaluator's gaze was distant and unfocused, and his head tended to turn towards the north.
"Get going, kid. Orderlies tend to ask questions if you're out too late. Not a crime by itself, but it's the kind of attention you don't want."
*****
The tram ride to Founding Station was eerily quiet. His only company was a small group of people about his own age, wearing immaculate, well tailored clothing.
And custom-made footwear. Which given their age, left two possibilities. High Central brats, or students of the Apprentice Hall.
"Anyone in your group wash-out? We lost four when Crafter Adams started the endurance tests last month," one of them said. "I heard Adams had to step in to restrain someone."
Adrian grimaced, and did his best to blend into the background. It was even odds at least one of them could be working for a gang boss in the next few years.
"Yeah. I forget her name, but her hair had more grey than brown after her exam. Pretty sure the shadows are hiding just outside the Hall grounds. Burning evaluators. It's not her fault she doesn't have the willpower." another asked.
"Lose anyone from your group, Arnold?" someone asked.
One of the group, a surprisingly fit looking young man, grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Helps that Grutchers is the worst person in my group, and she could school any of you. She just looks bad because of the company she's in."
"Please. Your grades aren't that much better than ours. Your group just coasts off that tall guy from the Fringes. The one who wrote his paper without ink."
Arnold chuckled. "Yep, I was there when he did that. Burning ballsy."
"Has anyone ever done that before?"
"Only three since the Fifth."
"How do you know that?"
"Crafter Cadmus said so." the one called Arnold explained.
Adrian was spared attempting to follow their conversation further, as the group got off at the next stop. He didn't bother to sit up again until long after they left, and the train neared his own stop.
He had to get off anyway. Founding Station was the first station on the lines. This was the very heart of the City.
The brilliant, burning heart of the City.
Hot air washed over Adrian and pushed at him as he stepped out of the train car. Firelight that burned at his eyes like the sun forced him to cover his eyes with his hand. The howling cry of wind being ripped and tossed pounded at Adrian's ears and chest.
Adrian whimpered a little, and clutched his sister's ashes close to his chest.
The Spire loomed over Adrian. Fire so bright it burned the eyes to look at it directly, so hot the air around him felt scorched, Adrian finally found himself at the foot of the wild, luminous heart of the Everburning City.
The Spire stretched impossibly high. In the recorded history of the City, no cloud has ever passed over it. No matter how high, the clouds passed through that column of fire that may as well stretch into whatever was beyond the sky.
"Never been here before?" Someone asked, and Adrian was surprised to see a woman, dressed in black, standing almost right beside him.
"I, uh, no. I was hoping to..." Adrian stammered, before he swallowed and said "I'm here with my sister's ashes. Mister Vontusk suggested I take what he called 'an off-hours pilgrimage."
The shadow standing beside him nodded once, and shrugged. "The pilgrimage is actually how we find most of the City's potentials. The Spire is a huge lure to those who can Craft, and scares the burning hell out of everyone else. Take your time. I'll make sure the others keep their distance until you're ready to leave."
Adrian nodded in thanks, and stepped onto the walkway.
The observation causeway was wider than most streets, with a waist-high wall serving as the only barrier before the Channel.
Adrian stopped after a few minutes of walking, and rested the small box on the walkway wall. He let his eyes rest on the waters, watching the currents sweep by, and let his hands open the box.
Pale-grey powder. Barely a couple of handfuls of loamy ash, all that remained of a life. Of his sister's life.
Of her smile.
Of her laughter.
Of her tears, her songs, her terrible jokes, of her foolish dream to be a Crafter. Of how she wiped her mother's forehead with a damp rag. Of how she held him as a cave collapsed, the first time what he loved was taken from him.
Of her expression; furrowed brow and focused eyes, as she put herself into the path of a well dressed woman in a faded, ornate jacket. A woman with glowing eyes and fire flickering between her fingertips.
He tipped the box just as a gust of wind pulled at its contents, ripping the ashes into the air and casting it towards the Spire.
Adrian watched, and finally let himself weep.
*****
The trip back, nearly two hours long, passed so uneventfully Adrian was sure he wouldn't remember any of it.
What waited for him in his apartment was entirely too much shock as it was.
Adrian opened the door to his small little room, to find a lit lamp sat in a far corner, across from his bed. Sitting beside that lamp, a woman in black was carefully running a knife over a grindstone.
The dull screech of metal scraping across stone was almost as menacing as the shadows of the woman's eyes. Adrian was frightened enough that he almost didn't recognize her.
She was the shadow that worked for Madam Ghally.
"I'm here to give you a gift, Mister Keates."
Adrian forced himself to keep still, suppressing the instinct to run. "I was under the impression Madam Ghally would have that crazy fop burn holes through me if I saw her again."
The shadow smiled. "True, she would. You humiliated her in the heart of her power. But if she can use you to strike a blow at your boss, she'll happily offer you whatever she can."
Adrian scowled. "I'm not turning on Xavier."
"Turning? No. But what if she offered you a way out of this hole? To a place in the City that Xavier can't reach? Under the protection of people who could break Xavier's fingers if they catch him reaching towards you?" the shadow asked.
"I can't think of a lot of places with that kind of strength. The Orderlies would probably bleed me dry for everything I know. I can't Craft, and the Bureau of Oversight doesn't take Undercity kids," Adrian said.
"I've never understood that policy," Adrian added.
"It's a political concession to the Crafters. Too many Undercity shadows were responsible for prematurely killing graduated Guild members. Something about growing up being threatened and disciplined by rejects," the shadow said, and she stood up.
Adrian reflexively took a step back, but the shadow only pointed to Adrian's bed. "But you overlooked one institution. One with a policy suited to taking kids like you. Madam Ghally's gift to you is the Army's entrance exam papers. Fill them out, and we'll get them slipped into the pile for the recruitment processors."
Adrian instinctively stepped aside as the shadow moved to the doorway.
"I'll be back in an hour to collect them. Fill them out, or don't. But this offer won't come again" the shadow said as she passed him and stepped out.
"Pits are easy to fall into," the shadow added. "But if you don't climb out while you have the strength, you never will."