Free Rising Tide by Rajan Khanna Page B

it’s stained and worn, and all the glass has been boarded up now. Two guards stand outside, in a metal cage, armed with rifles. The cage protects them from Ferals, and also keeps us out.
    Us, in this case, is me, Whistler, and Orkney. Whistler tasked the knobby, bald gunner to be one of my escorts and insisted on coming with me. They were afraid Tess would shelter me. I can’t say the thought hadn’t occurred to me, but here we are.
    We stand outside the cage, out in the open, on the ground, as the Raven circles above us. In the rain. “We’re here to see Lord Tess,” I say, wiping wet hair from my face. “I’m an old friend.”
    The guards don’t talk much, but they let us into the cage, one operating the door, the other ready to unload if necessary. Once we’re in, we hand over our weapons (and get patted down just in case). Then they secure the cage and open the doors to the library proper.
    â€œNo tricks,” Whistler hisses in my ear as we enter. “I can still put you down, even without my gun.”
    â€œJust let me do the talking, then,” I say. “We go way back, but she doesn’t know you two from Feral shit.”
    It strikes me as we’re walking from the hallway into the library that we are extremely vulnerable. If Tess weren’t here, for example, this would be a great way to strip visitors of weapons and then use them for whatever nefarious purpose you wanted. I don’t know for sure that she’s here—only that she was here last time.
    Easy, Ben , I think. Don’t get paranoid.
    The place is dark, with plenty of side corridors for attackers to hide in. Our steps echo off of the ground, which is remarkably well preserved. It’s old, and musty, but cleaner than most old buildings I’ve been through. I wonder how much blood this floor has seen.
    As we move down the hallway, steps begin echoing toward us from the opposite direction. Attendants? I don’t remember them from last time, but maybe the operation has grown.
    My blood chills when I see who’s approaching. Two people, one tall, one of medium height.
    The tall one is a woman with a large nose and a square jaw. Her companion is clean-shaven, with pock-marked cheeks and a pale complexion. She wears a shirt made of metal links, and on top of that is a kind of scarf or shawl that seems assembled from feathers. Maybe vulture or eagle feathers—black and long. Her head is shaved except for the very top, and the hair is pulled into a long tail held in place with metal rings. Her companion wears a fur vest on top of a loose shirt, but I can see the muscles bunch beneath it. A long scar on the top of his head divides his short hair into two parts. He’s wearing a necklace, too, and I think it’s teeth strung together. Some long and pointed. Others, short and blunt. Like human teeth.
    My blood chills because their appearances mark them as being from Valhalla, the floating city in the east. For a long time, Valhalla was the only city in the sky, and then Gastown was created. Gastown was a free city, a city of trade, a city trying to bring civilization back, lift it off of the ground and into the sky. It was also a city that had access to helium. Then the Valhallan raiders attacked and took it over. Turned it into a fiefdom of Valhalla. Used it to launch raids and attacks. Used the helium to lift their own ships, and bartered what was left for exorbitant prices.
    It was Valhallan raiders who attacked Miranda’s last headquarters, the Core, and killed some of her people. It was Valhallan raiders who stole the Cherub . It was Valhallan raiders who were on their way to attack Tamoanchan.
    My hand reaches down to my holster for my revolver, but . . . it’s not there. We’re fucked , I think. They’ve taken over Tess’s operation as well. I tense, getting ready to do . . . I don’t know. Something. Anything. I put out a hand to