Page 22 of Reap & Sow

For a base of operations located out of an underground sewer, Severin Lich’s headquarters were disconcertingly lavish.

Eda followed her surly guide along numerous low-ceilinged tunnels, even down a short flight of crumbling steps. Torches illuminated the way. Some passages were so tight they had to walk single file. The sound of trickling water lured them into a wide cavern, where four different sewage channels met. Each fed into a single circular channel of water, surrounding a vast stone island like a moat. The ceiling above was a naturally hewn dome. A shaft of light illuminated the space below from its apex, perhaps courtesy of a strategically placed street drain.

Accessible by four arched bridges, the island itself was packed with people hard at work.

An eclectic gaggle of desks spread from one edge to another, with people arguing over papers and weighing scales and little sacks of coin. Someone gave a young boy a hastily scrawled note; he ran over a bridge and into the darkness of a nearby tunnel. A woman sat hunched over a gleaming pile of gems, one huge eye blinking at the collection through a magnifying lens. Another child—a girl—ran up to a group of men by a chalkboard. She passed them a piece of paper, and they clustered around it, hurrying to copy down names in chalk. Boxing, Eda realized. They were receiving live updates on one of the fighting rings held elsewhere in the city.

It was a strange sort of guildhall. Here, in the depths of a sewer system, an entire conglomerate of businesses hastened on, much like the world above: a dark reflection in a puddle.

Or a mirror.

“Keep up,” her guide barked, striding across the first bridge. Eda followed. The burbling water below looked cleaner than the other channels she’d seen. The stench was less apparent, too, more akin to the familiar algae smell characterizing the canals above. Some sort of filtration system must have been cycling out the worst of the foul before it circulated back here.

She caught a few wary glances thrown her way as they cut through the chaos, but nobody seemed much concerned. Not with her unfriendly escort leading her like a dog to heel. Eda tongued the cut inside her lip nervously. She supposed her being here was fitting. These people operated in shadow and subterfuge beneath the notice of good society—just as she did. In another life, the Shaws might have lorded over an operation just like this, had they only the appetite for it.

Knowing so did not soothe her apprehension.

At the back of the guildhall, the northernmost bridge split into two staircases that met overhead on a wooden balcony, abutting a small archway. A fine arras hung across it, concealing the way beyond.

Her guide led her up and swept the arras aside. He bid her enter with a mocking wave. Arsehole.

Inside, the cold stone and low ceiling reminded Eda of the cellar back home. But where the Shaws’ cellar was bare of ornament, Severin Lich’s office had been decorated with all manner of luxuries. Tapestries hung from corner to corner. In one, stags fled from a pack of leaping hounds. In another, a unicorn strode between the bows of a towering green forest. Beautiful iron-wrought candelabras stood in each corner, casting the room in a rich glow. A bear fur lay vigil before a mahogany desk.

Sat at that desk was Severin Lich.

Eda knew it was him instinctually. Such dark, shrewd eyes could belong to no one else. Unease trickled down her back like cold water.

Another man, tall and reedy, was nattering about something at Lich’s side. He stopped. “What’s this?”

“Sorry t’interrupt, Lord Lich. Found the lady fleeing a whole pack of Blades down the eastern passages. Says she wants to speak to you on a matter of some urgency.” Her guide shoved her forward. Eda almost tripped over the bear’s head. She shot him a venomous look.

He called him Lord. Eda knew little about Severin Lich, but he was no noble, and certainly no lord.

“That so?” Lich leaned back in his chair. He was middle-aged and finely dressed, his black hair slick with pomade. Eda smelled it where she stood—something vaguely floral. Gray lined his temples. He was round in the belly. Thick, blunt fingers curled about a glossy smoking pipe as he brought it to his mouth and drew deep, watching her all the while.

The man beside him bristled. “Hillock, you daft prick. What are you bringing some whore in here for? Lord Lich and I were—”

“Peace, Mr. Bindle. Allow me a moment with our young guest, hm?”

Bindle seemed unhappy but did not argue. As he made for the door, Lich spoke again. “Bindle. Are you forgettin’ something?”

“My lord?”

“You owe the lady an apology.” Lich tapped his pipe into a little bronze bowl. “For misplacin’ your manners.”

Bindle turned red. He bowed awkwardly in her direction. “Forgive me, miss.”

“Get out.”

Bindle slipped through the tapestry.

Hillock pulled up a cushioned chair without a word. Lich gestured for Eda to sit—slowly, she did. Severin Lich’s amiable introduction didn’t fool her. He hasn’t threatened to slit my throat or throw me in the sewer yet, so this makes a good start, she told herself. But after years of living in Mr. Night’s shadow, she’d come to sense the darkness about a person, the way a doe might startle before she ever saw her hunter. In some twisted way, the familiarity was encouraging. Eda knew how to converse with those who frightened her.

“Mr. Lich. Thank you for seeing me.”

“And who might you be?”

She took a breath, preparing for any number of reactions. “My name is Eda Shaw.”