All semblance of rational thought vanished as the platform shuddered beneath his feet, and a vast echoing boom ascended from below. A near-deafening grinding cacophony filled the shaft, putting him in mind of the Superior’s engine room if its mechanicals were fashioned from stone rather than metal.
He reached for Loriabeth’s hand, intending to drag her to the walkway, but the platform began to descend before he could take a step, plummeting down at such a rate it was a wonder it hadn’t left them flailing in thin air. He managed to lock eyes with Hilemore for a second, standing on the edge of the walkway and staring down at them in impotent shock. But soon the captain’s face was a dim pale speck, vanishing completely as the lights blinked out and darkness swallowed them completely.
CHAPTER 20
Lizanne
It was impossible to see the whole mine through the drifting clouds of smoke and steam, but Lizanne estimated the huge bow-shaped pit to cover a quarter-mile square. One side was formed from soil layered in steps where teams of Furies shovelled away at yellow patches of earth. The opposite side was solid rock, the surface shot through by dozens of shafts and encrusted in a web of scaffolding so haphazard in its construction that Lizanne half expected it to come tumbling down at any second. The floor of the pit was a brownish-yellow teardrop a hundred yards long where steam rose in constant billows from a small pool.
“Is that a hot spring?” Lizanne asked Melina as they paused at the top of the scaffolding.
“That it is,” the tall woman replied. “It’s where the sulphur comes from. I wouldn’t be tempted to take a bath though. Water’s hot enough to boil the flesh from your bones, if the stink doesn’t kill you first. Here.” She handed Lizanne a leather face-mask. “Best put this on till we get inside the shaft.”
Lizanne examined the mask before donning it. It was a surprisingly ingenious design, large enough to cover the mouth and nose with slits on the outside and a thick gauze on the inside. “Tight-weave cotton soaked in old piss,” Melina explained, pulling on her own mask, which muffled her voice somewhat but not enough to make it unintelligible. “Not pleasant but it’s better than a lungful of powdered sulphur.”
She moved to a ladder and started down without delay. They descended successive tiers of scaffolding, Lizanne finding she had to hurry to keep up thanks to her companion’s long-legged stride. Melina exchanged nods and a few muffled greetings with the miners they met on the way. Most seemed keen to maintain a respectful distance although at one point she was obliged to pause and deliver a warning back-hand cuff to a bleary-eyed fellow who displayed an overly tactile interest in Lizanne. The man staggered backwards, blood staining the thin kerchief he wore as a mask, and would have tottered over the edge if one of his fellow miners hadn’t reached out to steady him.
“Don’t take it personal,” Melina said through her mask as they continued to descend. “It’s the mercury, plays havoc with a man’s mind.”
“Mercury?” Lizanne asked.
“That side is all sulphur,” Melina replied, pointing to the stepped earthen banks opposite. “Dig out plenty on this side too but also cinnabar, which is mercury and sulphur mixed up in the same rock. They use it to make vermilion dye so it fetches a high price, but hacking it out is a nasty business. If a Fury misbehaves the Electress will set him to work on the cinnabar seams. Most don’t last more than a year or two.”
They proceeded down through successive tiers of walkway and ladder until Melina paused at a narrow shaft close to the base of the pit. The steam was thick here and, even through her mask, Lizanne could taste an acrid tint to the air. The shaft was unusual in being the only one Lizanne had seen with a grate over the entrance. The iron barrier was secured in place with a sturdy lock which, she noted in surprise, was only accessible from the inside.
“He doesn’t like visitors,” Melina said, reaching through the bars to pull the rope on a bell suspended from the shaft’s ceiling. “Choosy about who he lets in.”
“But he’ll let you in?” Lizanne asked.
Melina said nothing for a few seconds, finally issuing a muttered response barely audible through her mask. “We’re friends.” She raised her gaze as a dim light glimmered within the dark confines of the shaft. “He’s got an unusual manner,” Melina said. “Can be aggravating if you’re not used to it. No point getting angry with him though. He doesn’t understand such things.”
A young man about Lizanne’s age appeared behind the grate, oil-lamp in hand. He was of average height, his slender frame clad in a set of standard prison overalls, heavily stained with grease and flecked with small burns of the kind Lizanne recognised as resulting from spilled chemicals. Unlike his clothing, his face was scrubbed to a level of cleanliness she hadn’t yet seen in this place, and possessed of such aesthetically pleasing symmetry she was instantly reminded of Tekela’s doll-like visage. But, whereas Tekela always had difficulty in preventing her features from betraying her emotions, this man exhibited none at all, regarding them both in placid and expressionless silence.
“Tinkerer,” Melina said. “Need to have some words.” She opened the sack in her hand and extracted a book, holding it up for inspection. “Imperial Railways Locomotive Maintenance Guide, Volume Three.”
Tinkerer shifted his blank gaze to Lizanne, still saying nothing.
“This is Krista,” Melina said. “New arrival. She’s like you, knows things. I thought you might get along.”
Tinkerer stared at Lizanne for a long moment then set his lamp aside and began to fiddle with the lock on the grate. Lizanne saw that it had no keyhole and was secured in place via a series of cogs set into a cylinder. She had seen combination locks before, but they were an expensive rarity. Most relied on a six-cog cylinder, whilst this one had twelve, meaning even a Blood-blessed would find it practically impossible to pick. Tinkerer’s fingers moved with an automatic speed, too fast for Lizanne to even approximate a guess at the sequence. He lifted the lock clear of the grate and pulled it open before retrieving his lamp and disappearing back into the shaft.
“Stay right behind me,” Melina said, stepping into the shaft. “Step where I step. He’s got contraptions rigged to discourage unwanted visitors, and you really don’t want to find any.”
“I thought he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Lizanne replied, following her into the gloom.
“He wouldn’t, lest any try to hurt him, then it’s a different story. You don’t live your whole life in Scorazin without learning a thing or two.”
“His whole life? You mean he was born here?”