Bitter Cold Truth: A Tale of the Everburning City

(10-4) Commiting deeds they should abhor

It was bitterly cold.

The air stabbed at Samuel's nose as he breathed in, and bit at the exposed skin of his face and hands. The pain brought tears to Samuel's eyes, and those same tears quickly froze on his face.

Samuel was convinced that what he felt wasn't just cold. The vicious chill in the basement of the Frosty Hearth was trying to kill him.

"Don't worry," Clovis said, rubbing his hands together as he led Samuel towards the back. "It isn't this bad anywhere else unless we go into the storeroom."

"Abyss after all light, Clovis, what is this?" Samuel asked.

"You haven't guessed yet? Inspector?"

"The only thing I know of is Coldstone. But even the Undertakers don't have Ice Boxes that cold," Samuel said incredulously.

"No, I imagine not. But once you stop trying to imagine impossible answers, what are you left with?" Clovis asked.

"You have Coldstone," Samuel whispered, in genuine awe. "You have a lot of Coldstone. But that should be impossible."

"Indeed. Yet you can still feel the truth," Clovis said.

Clovis led Samuel to the end of a dark, poorly lit hall. There were no torches along the wall, and the open doorway at the stairwell was the only lights they could follow. Clovis took a key out of his pocket and twisted open the lock. He then opened the door and ushered Samuel inside.

"Shut the door," Clovis gestured to the hallway, as the bartender marched to the other side of the room, confident despite the nearly complete darkness he walked through.

As soon as Samuel shut the door, Clovis twisted a handle. All at once, a dozen pipes began to belch long tongues of flame into the air, buffeting Samuel with wind and rustling the dozens of books left on nearby shelves.

Surprised, Samuel reached for the nearest one and nearly dropped it in shock. The cover and the binding of the book in his hand was made of leather, a scarce material in a place where every animal alive was cared for in nature sanctuaries. To have been able to use leather in this way suggested that whoever received these was extremely important to the City.

"Have you ever heard of Crafter Cassiopeia Saval?"

Samuel nodded, recalling his history lessons. "She died during the Fifth. Credited with inventing Coldstone."

"Those were hers," Clovis pointed to the books on the shelf. "Her research notes on how she discovered a method to imbue stone with the power to drink heat."

"Imbue?" Samuel asked.

"What, did you think they dug it out of the ground?" Clovis asked. He smiled snidely, seeming to luxuriate in Samuel's ignorance. It was a look Samuel had seen a few times in interrogation rooms when a criminal enjoys an investigator's ignorance. "Coldstone is the creation of a Crafter's power. Like the ammunition in the Army's guns, certain alloys, the lift-bags of the airships and the Spire, Coldstone is a Craft."

"That doesn't make sense," Samuel frowned and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "That would only make it a fairly innocuous secret, and very easy to keep. There has to be something else about all of this.

"Look, I'm showing you this as proof that I have something to bargain with. I've read those notes, and I know how Coldstone is made. And if you can get me out of this alive, I'll tell you everything."

"What can you tell me that isn't in these notes?" Samuel asked, opening the book in his hands.

"I can tell you that if the authorities of the City learn you opened that book, they'll kill you," Clovis said. He stopped near a desk, reached inside, and drew out a pair of small glass cups. He also set a bottle filled with an odd, amber liquid. "And we're down here so that we can talk without being overheard. Coldstone makes wielding the flame difficult, and even a Crafter would need to be here physically in order to use their power."