Free City of Dreams and Nightmare by Ian Whates

did were forced to travel in stages, changing from one clockwork box to another. In theory, the elevators were supposed to connect, so that you stepped out of one, crossed over a corridor and instantly entered the next, ready to continue your journey. Reality rarely seemed to live up to this theory and, in Tylus’s experience, transition was never that seamless.
    The clockwork lifts were dispersed throughout the city, but few of the systems went all the way down to the City Below due to lack of demand, or so it was claimed. Tylus had needed to walk some distance before reaching a system that did. In the event, he needn’t have bothered, since the final anticipated changeover proved one too many. Not only was the connecting elevator completely out of synch and still several minutes away, but there was a sizeable queue already waiting for it. So sizeable that Tylus doubted whether there would even be room for him on this next one, which meant waiting for the car to complete its descent to the bottom so that its tandemmed twin could return to the changeover platform. The lift system worked that way, with two cars working opposite each other – one going down as its partner rose, each stopping at every intervening Row whether anyone wanted them to or not. This made journeys frustratingly slow, as Tylus was coming to realise.
    He looked at the queue, considered invoking the authority of his uniform to force a way to the front, and decided that he really could not be bothered. Why earn the resentment of everyone there only to be crammed cheek-by-jowl with them on a descent into hell? Better to walk.
    Decision made, he headed for the nearest stairwell. A young girl, no more than three or four, stared at him as he passed and pulled at her mother’s arm.
    “Look, Mum, funny guardsman.”
    Her mother quickly clasped her by the arm and said, “Shush, dear,” before offering Tylus an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, she’s never seen a Kite Guard before.”
    After that, Tylus walked with chin a little higher and back a little straighter, reminded that even this far from his own districts the reputation of the Kite Guard preceded him. At least no one had yet asked why an officer of the Kite Guard was bothering with the lifts at all instead of simply flying down the outside of the city to wherever he wished to go. Explaining the treacherous nature of wind currents as they met and swirled around the walls to the uninitiated was not a prospect he relished. Any thoughts he might have entertained of attempting something as reckless as that had been well and truly dismissed following his embarrassment the previous night.
    He took his time descending through the city’s lower levels, falling into the steady, unhurried gait he used when walking the beat, dallying a while in the Shopping Rows – it was an age since he had ventured this far into the city’s lower reaches – but otherwise simply enjoying the unfamiliar surroundings.
    Immediately beneath the Shopping Rows lay the market, which was the wellspring for much of Thaiburley’s food trade. Here fresh produce of every sort was bartered and sold, to be distributed throughout the Rows, where it would be cleaned, peeled, diced and sliced, processed, prepared, cooked, stored, combined and consumed in a thousand different fashions.
    This was a new experience for Tylus, who had never ventured beneath the Shopping Rows before. Against his expectations, he found the place invigorating and exciting, with its constant hustle and bustle. Everywhere was movement, as broad carts laden with pallets of vegetables and others stacked precariously with cages of clucking fowl muscled their way through the streets, while trays of ice were rushed into the fish halls and lumbering oxen pulled heavier carts still. Prospective buyers were everywhere, wanting to peer beneath every cloth and into every container. A cacophony of sound surrounded him, as yells of “Mind yer backs!” and “Comin’