Bitter Cold Truth: A Tale of the Everburning City

(4-3) Can only fall once

Another hour passed before Lieutenant Kendor led him down through the small corridors beneath the Agora.

The narrow halls were thickly pressed with people, all substantially better dressed than Samuel. Well-pressed finery, elaborately cut and ornately decorated clothes, perfume, and jewellery adored nearly every person he saw as he walked.

It was so much wealth that it both enthralled and disgusted Samuel.

Despite the crowd of people, Samuel maintained an impressive pace thanks to his guide. Between her scowl, her menacing gaze, her sword, and the coat that seemed to devour nearby heat, nearly every one of these important people gave the Songbird's lieutenant a wide berth.

"Just a decade ago," Lieutenant Kendor said, pointing to a woman whose elegant necklace looked to be made of real gold. "The jewellery she's wearing could have fed a hundred people in the Undercity for a year."

"I remember," Samuel agreed. But he smirked, and asked, "how much could you have gotten for your sword, lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Kendor stopped and turned. For half a moment, Samuel was afraid the lieutenant was about to get angry. But the grin on her face an amused one, and she laughed before she glanced down at the weapon at her waist.

"Well put, inspector," Lieutenant Kendor said.

"Older inspectors used to dread having anyone from the military come into a precinct. It usually meant some lieutenant's sword had been taken," Samuel mused. "Usually in a dark alley, by a dozen assailants, all of whom he or she managed to fight off singlehandedly."

"Without so much as a single cut or a black eye, I imagine," Lieutenant Kendor said. "I believe the usual method was a few drinks and a pretty stranger who disappeared before the morning."

"Which usually took two hours of polite questioning to get them to admit," Samuel finished. "Missing swords have been much less common since Benden Tammerlane became Lord Captain."

"And more importantly, a Coldstone sword will not buy you nearly as much as it used to. Don't get me wrong, I could still set myself up nicely with what I have on. " Lieutenant Kendor said, the smile on her face losing some of its mirth. "But the price isn't measured in human life and misery anymore. That's not a small thing."

Samuel nodded, noticing the lieutenant's accent for the first time. There was a certain musical quality to it, a peculiar mixture of the Undercity drawl and the crisp sharpness in the intonation of longer words that was usually only found in math-heavy occupations.

"So you were an Undercity kid?" Samuel asked. "You've risen pretty high in the world."

"For a tunnel rat?" lieutenant Kendor asked, her tone deceptively light.

Samuel stammered, unable to respond.

"No one can rise higher," Lieutenant Kendor said. "I serve on an airship."

Samuel was still unable to form a response, and mutely let the lieutenant lead him on in silence until they rounded a corner and stopped at a doorway with a pair of uniformed orderlies guarding the way.

"Ma'am," one of them said as Samuel and Lieutenant Kendor approached. The burly looking constable gestured with his head towards Samuel. "Who is he?"

"An inspector. He's here to speak with one of the parliamentarians," Lieutenant Kendor explained.

"Rosemary Miller," Samuel added. He held his badge out to show the soldiers guarding the doorway.

"Ah, sorry inspector. We're too used to reporters and socialites trying to sneak inside. Particularly with today's celebrity appearance," the orderly explained, his eyes resting on the lieutenant's sword.