Megan was far from a monster, but I couldn’t explain that to Mizzy, not until I had proof of some sort.
For now, I changed the topic. “So, what did you find out from your friends? We’re here for intel, right? Any clues that could lead us to … what we’re looking for?” I didn’t want to say it out loud, even though with the music—and with no water exposed to the air directly nearby—it was unlikely Regalia would be spying on us.
“I’m still looking, but I did find one interesting tidbit. Looks like Regalia has been bringing in scientists.”
“Scientists?” I frowned.
“Yeah,” Mizzy said. “Smart types of all kinds, apparently. Marco heard that a surgeon from Great Falls—one of Revokation’s personal staff—relocated here. It’s odd, as we don’t have a lot of trained professionals in town. Babilar tends to attract people who like free food and fatalism, not scholars.”
Huh. “See if any other professionals have come to town lately. Accountants. Military experts.”
“Why?”
“Just a hunch,” I said.
“Right. I’ll get back to gathering intel.” Mizzy hesitated. “Everything really is all about work for you, isn’t it?”
Not by a mile. But I nodded anyway.
“I am going to find the Epic who murdered Sam,” Mizzy said. “Then I’m going to kill her.”
Sparks. I needed to clear Megan’s name, and quickly. Mizzy nodded to herself, looking resolute as she stepped out of the dancing area.
I went and checked on Newton as surreptitiously as I could. The Epic still lounged by the bar, sipping her drink, standing out like a punk guitarist in a mariachi band. Farther down the improvised bar—it was mostly made of old wooden boxes—Exel chatted with a group of women. They laughed at something he said, and the whole crowd of them looked sincerely interested in him.
Sparks. Exel was a ladies’ man? And at least he was sticking to the plan. I toyed with the idea of looking for Lulu so I could ask her if she’d ever seen Regalia. Instead I found myself walking to the bridge at the edge of the building, then out into the night, wanting to be alone with my thoughts for a while.
21
BABILAR was starting to grow on me.
True, all the color was garish, but I couldn’t help but admire it just a little, particularly in contrast to the desolation between here and Newcago. Every glowing line coloring the walls and roofs here was a mark of humanity. A mixture of primitive cave paintings and modern technology, sprayed out of a can and humming with life all around me.
I walked down a bridge—different from the one we’d come in on. It led me to a quiet rooftop, with only a few deserted-looking tents and shanties. People preferred the roofs closer to the water level, it seemed. This one was a little too high.
I wasn’t certain why more people didn’t live inside the buildings. Wouldn’t that be safer? Of course, the insides of the buildings were jungles—humid, shadowy, and obviously unnatural. Perhaps the rooftops were just something the people could claim.
I strolled for a time. Maybe I should have been worried about the danger, but sparks, Regalia had held us all in her grip—then let us go. This wasn’t like Newcago, where Steelheart would have killed us in an eyeblink if he’d been able to find us. This was complicated. This was Epics and people living in a bizarre ecosystem, where the humans accepted that they might die at any moment—but still threw parties. Parties the Epics themselves might decide to visit.
Newcago had made far more sense. Steelheart at the top, lesser Epics beneath him, the favored serving them. The rest of us hiding in the corners. What sense did this city make?
Regalia has leashed the city’s gangs, I thought. And she’s somehow been gaining the loyalty of powerful Epics. She lets the common people have all the food they want, and has now attracted at least one highly trained specialist.
That all spoke of someone who was planning to do what Steelheart had in creating a powerful city-state. Regalia made the place inviting to bring people in from outside, then she gained the loyalty of several Epics to use in building an aristocracy. But if that was the case, why unleash Obliteration? Why would she build a city like this—imposing law, working for peace—only to destroy it? It made no sense.
Footsteps.
Growing up in the understreets of Newcago taught you a few things. The first was to jump the moment you thought someone was sneaking up on you. If you were lucky, it was just a mugger. If you were unlucky, you were dead.
I backed up against the side of a wooden shanty, crouching down and staying out of sight. Blue paint glowed out from behind me. Idiot, I thought. This isn’t Newcago. It’s normal for people to wander around here. There was probably no need to have hidden so quickly. I peeked up.