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Authors: Paul Crilley
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though. You can’t just kill a river. It carries the blood of the city.”
Turning into a narrow corridor, Corrigan led them along the path, through dry sewer beds, and onto rickety bridges that spanned the underground rivers. As Corrigan wended his way through the sewers and tunnels, Emily was soon lost. They walked for what felt like an hour or so, and Emily was quickly tiring when Corrigan stopped at another dead end. Again, he touched the wall and muttered a word under his breath. The wall shuddered, dust sifting into the air. The bricks ground their way to the side, revealing another passage, this one lit by floating balls of orange light.
“Leave her here,” said Corrigan, indicating the faerie in the jar.
“Shouldn’t we let her go?”
“If you want. But you won’t be able to see when we come back out.”
“Oh. Of course.” Emily put the faerie down on the ground. She was banging at the glass again, and Emily felt a surge of guilt at leaving her like this. But they shouldn’t be long, should they? All they were doing was handing over Corrigan’s satchel. She’d be back out in no time. Then after that she would go and check on William. Emily knew he was safe at the shop, but she wanted to make sure, just for her own peace of mind.
They stepped through the opening, which scraped closed behind them. Emily studied their surroundings as they walked. They seemed to have left the manmade tunnels behind and were now in what looked like warrens. The walls were rough, the marks of chisels clearly visible, and the ground was paved with broken stones.
Corrigan saw her staring. “The Alfar did this.”
“Alfar?”
“Alfar—the dwarves. Before most of them disappeared. They carved all this.”
“Where did they disappear to?”
“No idea. We think the Order got hold of them. A few hundred years ago.”
Corrigan hurried on ahead. The tunnel again slopeddownward, and Emily thought they must be miles below London by now.
Eventually, the tunnel widened, and Emily began to see signs of life. Creatures like Corrigan scurried around, disappearing into tunnels that branched off the main thoroughfare. A faerie flew past Emily’s head, its golden glow lighting the tunnel before it disappeared around a bend up ahead. A jumble of sounds rebounded off the walls and washed over Emily in a confused mishmash of echoes and voices.
Then they rounded the corner, and the wall of noise and sight slammed into Emily’s senses like a slap across the face, bringing her to a sudden stop.
The scene put her immediately in mind of London Bridge, with its homes and shops lining the bridge itself. Except that instead of people bustling around selling their wares, drinking with friends, and stealing from strangers, it was the fey.
Creatures of all shapes scurried between stalls and over the roofs of shops. There were so many, and they were so varied in looks, that Emily could have spent all day there and not seen two that looked the same. Tall, short, fat, tiny, ugly, beautiful, pale, dark, blue, brown. Scarred, smooth, eyeless, noseless, mouthless.
Corrigan nudged her and she started walking again, inspecting the stalls as she passed by. They sold an astonishing variety of goods. One stall was completely covered withglass vials filled with an assortment of liquids and powders. A tall, dark woman with white eyes gazed down at Emily.
“And what is your fancy, little girl? Trying to win the heart of a young man?” She cocked her head and looked hard at Emily. “But perhaps you are a little young for that. What else? A cure for the wasting disease? No? Take a look, then. Everything you see is perfect for shinecraft.”
Emily picked up one of the vials and read the label.
The First Laugh of an Unchristened Babe
, it said. She put it back and picked up another, this one containing a liquid that glowed white:
One Soul, Freely Given
, read the label.
Corrigan hastily guided her away, casting nervous glances at the woman.
“Come
Turning into a narrow corridor, Corrigan led them along the path, through dry sewer beds, and onto rickety bridges that spanned the underground rivers. As Corrigan wended his way through the sewers and tunnels, Emily was soon lost. They walked for what felt like an hour or so, and Emily was quickly tiring when Corrigan stopped at another dead end. Again, he touched the wall and muttered a word under his breath. The wall shuddered, dust sifting into the air. The bricks ground their way to the side, revealing another passage, this one lit by floating balls of orange light.
“Leave her here,” said Corrigan, indicating the faerie in the jar.
“Shouldn’t we let her go?”
“If you want. But you won’t be able to see when we come back out.”
“Oh. Of course.” Emily put the faerie down on the ground. She was banging at the glass again, and Emily felt a surge of guilt at leaving her like this. But they shouldn’t be long, should they? All they were doing was handing over Corrigan’s satchel. She’d be back out in no time. Then after that she would go and check on William. Emily knew he was safe at the shop, but she wanted to make sure, just for her own peace of mind.
They stepped through the opening, which scraped closed behind them. Emily studied their surroundings as they walked. They seemed to have left the manmade tunnels behind and were now in what looked like warrens. The walls were rough, the marks of chisels clearly visible, and the ground was paved with broken stones.
Corrigan saw her staring. “The Alfar did this.”
“Alfar?”
“Alfar—the dwarves. Before most of them disappeared. They carved all this.”
“Where did they disappear to?”
“No idea. We think the Order got hold of them. A few hundred years ago.”
Corrigan hurried on ahead. The tunnel again slopeddownward, and Emily thought they must be miles below London by now.
Eventually, the tunnel widened, and Emily began to see signs of life. Creatures like Corrigan scurried around, disappearing into tunnels that branched off the main thoroughfare. A faerie flew past Emily’s head, its golden glow lighting the tunnel before it disappeared around a bend up ahead. A jumble of sounds rebounded off the walls and washed over Emily in a confused mishmash of echoes and voices.
Then they rounded the corner, and the wall of noise and sight slammed into Emily’s senses like a slap across the face, bringing her to a sudden stop.
The scene put her immediately in mind of London Bridge, with its homes and shops lining the bridge itself. Except that instead of people bustling around selling their wares, drinking with friends, and stealing from strangers, it was the fey.
Creatures of all shapes scurried between stalls and over the roofs of shops. There were so many, and they were so varied in looks, that Emily could have spent all day there and not seen two that looked the same. Tall, short, fat, tiny, ugly, beautiful, pale, dark, blue, brown. Scarred, smooth, eyeless, noseless, mouthless.
Corrigan nudged her and she started walking again, inspecting the stalls as she passed by. They sold an astonishing variety of goods. One stall was completely covered withglass vials filled with an assortment of liquids and powders. A tall, dark woman with white eyes gazed down at Emily.
“And what is your fancy, little girl? Trying to win the heart of a young man?” She cocked her head and looked hard at Emily. “But perhaps you are a little young for that. What else? A cure for the wasting disease? No? Take a look, then. Everything you see is perfect for shinecraft.”
Emily picked up one of the vials and read the label.
The First Laugh of an Unchristened Babe
, it said. She put it back and picked up another, this one containing a liquid that glowed white:
One Soul, Freely Given
, read the label.
Corrigan hastily guided her away, casting nervous glances at the woman.
“Come
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