Free Dreamstrider by Lindsay Smith

uprising, as well. Brandt grins and tosses Freddy the coinpurse. “Now, that’s the sort of gossip I need from you. Keep me posted, will you?”
    “Will do,” Freddy says, and checks the alley’s mouth again. “I gotta scramble. Looks like the constables are making another sweep.”
    Sure enough, as soon as Brandt and I step back onto the boulevard, a constable approaches us and signals for us to display our citizenship papers. Brandt flips his open with the well-practiced ease of an aristocrat, but I have to dig around in my pockets for a bit to find the weathered temporary papers the Ministry issued me several years ago. Just a scrap with a seal and a signature—all that separates me from the tunneler life I once knew.
    Once we’re safely away from Kruger’s bakery and One-Eyed Freddy, I glance at Brandt. “So some of Jorn’s old Destroyer compatriots are still fighting for the Writ?” I ask. “Do you think it stands a chance after all?”
    Brandt presses his lips into a thin line. “As much as I’d like to think so, I’m afraid the Stargazers have shattered the Destroyers’ movement. Tunnelers rely on the gangs too much to oppose them effectively, and even if they could stand up to them, why would Lord Alizard pay them any mind? There are too many crooked aristocrats.”
    “Like Lady Twyne. Do you think she’s our traitor? What should we do next?”
    “I’ll speak to Edina about piecing together a mission plan and present it to the Minister. I say we infiltrate that party at Twyne Manor and see what muck we can rake—unless your new Farthinger friends have a better idea.” He rolls his eyes. “Dreamer bless, that Marez is mighty full of himself, isn’t he?”
    I keep my gaze squarely on the cobblestones surging upward before us. “Nothing wrong with that, if he’s earned it.”
    “We’ll see how good their information shakes out to be.” Brandt clicks his teeth. “I’m still not pleased that Durst has you working with them. If they ever suspect what you’re capable of—”
    “Trust me.” I snort. “They’ve nothing but contempt for dreams.” Kriza, anyway. Marez was intrigued this morning, but I feel like keeping that to myself. “I’m being careful.”
    Brandt scans the street—the quiet merchant houses ahead of us, and the crowded market behind, the traders’ patter ringing out. “I know you are. That Marez may be full of himself, but you know, he may have a good point about you.”
    “What? About me making a good field operative?” I scoff and look away, though I feel my cheeks heating, recalling the way his gaze seemed to seize me up by the collar and refuse to let me go. “I don’t know. I think maybe he is just … testing me, something of the sort. You of all people should know—”
    “He’s right about your instincts. You haven’t been properly trained, is all. I can talk to Minister Durst about it, see if we can’t arrange for some basic operative training for you.” Brandt smiles, crooked and genuine. “I know you’ll catch on quickly.”
    We come to the end of the residential row, passing a steep bridge that crosses into a pocket of municipal buildings—a constabulary, an office for the Ministry of Colonial Management, and, unlabeled and unknown to most Barstadters, the Ministry of Affairs. But my thoughts run to the tunnel entrance far beneath the bridge, just one of the dozens of networks that criss-cross the earth below Barstadt City proper. Brandt may think I can learn, but Durst still holds my temporary citizenship papers. He’s trusting me to keep an eye on the Farthingers now, but one more mistake, and he will cast me back to the tunnels for good.
    “I’m not sure we have time for training,” I say, steering myself away from that unpleasant line of thought. “I’m sure the Farthingers will give me ample practice in the field.”
    “Make a game of it, then,” Brandt says with a grin. “They’re here to protect Farthing, but I’ve no doubt