Chương 17: One Cart, Two Liars

A sharp whistle shrieking through the air jolted him out of his reverie.

"First caravan loading!" The voice belonged to a woman standing on a raised stone block near the railing, wearing a familiar uniform. With the dark grey coat, brass buttons, and a flat-brimmed hat with a single amber stripe across the band, a Descent Marshal was easily recognizable. They were the Union's platform officers, responsible for managing the flow of Delvers in and out of Ghenna's entrance in an orderly fashion. This one was a middle-aged woman, with a weak jaw and a slouched posture.

"All registered Delvers proceeding to Floor 1 and below, form up at the eastern gate. The caravan departs in five minutes. If you are not in line in five minutes you will wait for the second caravan which departs in two hours." Under the threat of more waiting, the groups of Delvers reorganized themselves immediately. Streams of people quickly converged on the eastern gate where a set of iron tracks emerged from the platform floor and angled downward into the dark.

Then with the harsh sound of metal screeching against metal, the carts began arriving. They came up the tracks in a slow procession, each one hauled by a thick rope mechanism that ran through a series of iron pulleys bolted into the ceiling far above. The carts themselves were flat-bottomed iron boxes on wheels with low side rails and a single bench running along each interior wall.

Each one was sized for exactly four people with all their packs and luggage, though smaller parties were permitted to fill the remaining space with their equipment. Lio joined the line with Ophila at his side. Ophila read the painted sign on the gate post with an exasperated expression.

"I forgot how long the ride takes," she said.

"An hour of just sitting in a box."

"You've done it before," Lio said. She made a face.

"It's still so boring." The line moved forward as carts began to be quickly filled and released, each one beginning its slow descent with a mechanical groan of rope and pulley. The Descent Marshal walked the length of the queue, asking questions and jotting down information. When she reached Ophila and Lio, she stopped, and gave them a quick glance.

"Floor destination?"

"Fifteen," Ophila said. The Marshal looked at Lio.

"Fifteen," he confirmed. Nodding, she made a fast note in her ledger. Then she moved on without comment. A few minutes later, the Marshal climbed back onto her stone block and produced the whistle again, signaling the queue to be quiet.

"For those making their first descent, and for those who need reminding," she began, in a bored tone, "the cart ride to Floor 1 takes approximately one hour. You will remain seated with your pack between your feet for the duration. You will not stand. You will not lean over the side rails. You will not attempt to exit a moving cart for any reason." She tucked her ledger under her arm, and gave them a tired look.

"Any questions?" There was a long silence.

"Good. First four, board now." For the next couple of minutes, Lio watched the carts load with a detached expression. Four Delvers packed together tightly, with their bags beneath their feet. Then the cart began its descent, dropping below the platform edge and disappearing into the dark. He'd also noticed the strange tall woman and the heavyset man in the queue. They didn't speak, make any sort of hand gestures, or even give off the suggestion that they knew each other.

He silently watched as they climbed aboard the fifth cart. Their own cart was the seventh to load. Lio stepped in first, taking the left bench near the front. Ophila settled beside him, dropping her pack between her feet and immediately began checking the buckle on the flaps.

"It's closed," Lio deadpanned, looking at the erratic behavior. She glanced at him.

"I'm just checking." She checked the side pocket one more time and then folded her hands in her lap, leaning against the cart's wall. The cart lurched, and began to move. Above, the platform rose and rose, until it quickly disappeared. The dome's curved walls quickly slid past, the jagged gap of sky at the very top shrinking to a sliver of pale grey, then nothing at all. A heavy darkness closed in from all sides, held back only by Ophila's lamp, which she'd turned on.

Ophila looked up at where the sky had been, staying like that for a couple of minutes, her neck craned back. Then she faced forward and settled into her seat properly, pulling her simple braid over one shoulder and beginning to undo it with an absent expression. Meanwhile, Lio watched the dark walls speed past. The silence between them was comfortable enough. She clearly wasn't the type to fill it for the sake of filling it.

From what he'd gathered about her personality, she seemed likely to go quiet for long stretches and then say something that had clearly been sitting in her head for a while. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The cart swayed violently as it turned a bend, a sharp mineral smell around them appearing and strengthening. It almost seemed to be physical, the grit clawing at the back of their throats uncomfortably.

"The carts are worse than I remembered," Ophila said, to no one in particular. She'd finished unbraiding her hair and was now rebraiding it in a different style, her fingers working quickly through the strands.

"Also the noise." She tilted her head toward the groaning pulley mechanism above them.

"I forgot about that weird sound…" She paused, her brow furrowing.

"I just realized I never asked this before. Does it ever break?"

"The mechanism?"

"Yes."

"Occasionally," Lio said. She looked at him with a side eye.

"How occasionally is this?"

"Rarely." She held his gaze, clearly trying to convince him to elaborate further. But when he didn't, she just looked back at her braid with a slightly unnerved expression.

"Huh," she said. And so, the cart continued to descend. After a while, Ophila finished with her braid—a northern style Lio recognized, consisting of a loose side braid with the shorter front pieces twisted back into it, held at the end with a strip of dark cloth—and flipped it back over her shoulder.

"It's colder than I remember too," she said. She pulled her coat tighter with one hand, looking at the passing walls.

"Or maybe I just've been in the south for too long."

"Millhaven is colder," Lio said matter-of-factly. She glanced at him.

"How do you know that?"

"It's north, isn't it?"

"I know it's north, I live there." She looked at him with a mild suspicion.

"Have you been there or something?"

"No. It sounds like it's a cold place though." Ophila seemed to accept this as she gave a small shrug, looking back at the walls.

"Well, it's a different kind of cold up there. All dry and snappy." She paused, thinking of something.

"My mother used to say that Millhaven cold was like the guy that would insult your wife whenever he got drunk." Lio reached for his waterskin from his pack and took a small sip.

"She meant that it got personal," Ophila added.

"I understood," Lio said. She glanced at him again, and gave a small smile.

"Of course you did." She tucked her hands under her arms, a small shiver shaking her body.

"It's a small place, you know. Just less than two hundred people. Everyone knows everyone and everyone knows everyone's business. The concept of privacy is extinct there." She said it with a small chuckle.

"I think the best example was that there was a man on our street who hadn't spoken to his neighbor in eleven years over a fence dispute. They'd worked at the same place too, so they just see each other every single day and just." She pressed her lips together, making a zipping gesture.

"Not a single word."

"Did it ever get resolved?"

"The neighbor died," Ophila said.

"So technically yes." She paused, a smile curving her lips.

"I also heard that the man cried at the funeral like a baby."

"Strange." After a few moments of silence, he spoke up for the first time.

"So what made you want to come down here the first time?" he asked. Ophila chewed the inside of her cheeks, looking thoughtful.

"There wasn't much else to do in Millhaven," she said.

"I mean that practically too, not dramatically. You're either a farmer or some other trade route. Those are all the options." She looked at her hands.

"My family has a farm that's three generations old. But I didn't exactly get the full farmer genes."

"What happened?"

"Everything I planted died." She said with a snort.

"My mother said I had hands cursed by the devils, in order to bring famine upon the land."

"So you descended."

"So I descended." She gave a solemn nod.

"I also already had a rune, so it seemed like a logical option." A long, quiet silence followed.

"What about you?" Ophila asked suddenly. Lio frowned.

"What about me?"

"Why did you start descending?" She looked at him with a cocked head. Lio looked at the passing stone walls.

"I have a reason," he said simply. Ophila waited, but he said nothing else. She puffed her cheeks out, frowning.

"You know," she said, "most people, when someone asks them a question, respond with something that contains some actual information."

"I responded," Lio said, unbothered.

"You responded with only four words." She tilted her head at him.

"Do you ever just talk normally?"

"Occasionally," Lio replied. She stared at him, and cocked her head.

"Was that a joke?" Lio said nothing, his expression not offering any clues.

"I genuinely cannot tell," she said after a moment. She turned back to face the front of the cart.

"Hm… Let's try a different approach." She thought about it for a second.

"What do you do up there on the surface between descents?"

"Prepare for the next one," Lio said.

"That's your whole life?"

"Pretty much." She frowned at this, looking puzzled.

"You don't have people? Friends, family, anything like that?"

"I know people," Lio said.

"That's not the same thing."

"No," Lio agreed.

"It isn't." She looked at him, narrowing her eyes as she pressed her lips together.

"You're a bit weird," she said, but kindly.

"So I've been told," Lio said.

"By who?"

"By people I know," Lio said. She let out a snort, and shook her head helplessly.

"Right," she said.

"Of course." She settled back against the cart wall, looking at the ceiling.

"Fine. We'll just sit here then."

"Alright." Lio said. Ophila gave him a look, straightening up from her slouched posture.

"You're doing it again," she said.

"Doing what?"

"Answering with only a single word." She glanced at him sideways.

"The day you speak in a full sentence is going to be the day the world ends." Lio considered this.

"Quite possibly," he said. Ophila stared at him for a long moment. Then she let out a long breath, shaking her head defeatedly. She turned back to face the front of the cart, pulled her braid over her shoulder, and said nothing else. By now, the mineral smell in the air had changed, becoming more gritty and dry, the air that of a place that hadn't seen sunlight for millenium. The lamp between them burned steadily, throwing its small consistent circle of light against the passing stone.

Ophila was quiet for a long stretch, long enough that Lio thought the conversation between them was finished, and he could go back into the comfort of his own thoughts. Then she said, and without looking at him, "For what it's worth, I really do think you're the strangest person I've ever met."

"I've been told that as well," Lio said.

"I'm sure you have." She glanced at him sideways, raising an eyebrow.

"Doesn't seem to bother you much."

"No," Lio agreed. She nodded slowly with a small smile, and faced forward again. Below them, Floor 1 was waiting.