Florence started up the sloping walkway. The new inhabitants of the Underground had made fairly quick work of setting up the rocky tunnels and antechambers as home. Most of the main tunnels had been outfitted with a patchwork of illumination—from glovis eyes to bioluminescence.
She had been given a lantern that now guided her through the dark tunnel. Those building out the infrastructure—no doubt Rivets—hadn’t made it to this corner of the Underground yet. Florence suspected it would take some time, if they ever reached this far at all.
The eerie glow of another lantern winked into existence from the darkness before her. It grew into the shape of a man with a Revolver tattoo on his cheek. He nodded and continued onward; it was the only assurance Florence had that she was headed in the right direction.
After what seemed like forever but was likely only about three minutes—darkness distorted time in weird ways—the tunnel opened into a large cavern. The ceiling was obscured by blackness that clung to it like heavy clouds, but Florence was struck by a sensation of spaciousness above her—a rare commodity in the Underground. In the center of the room there was a giant metal basket, within which countless glowing orbs rested. Florence tried to make sense of what the basket contained—not glovis eyes, nor typical bioluminescence. Whatever it was gave off enough light to bathe most of the cavern in a pale, bluish-green glow.
Light and shadow carved out silhouettes of people hunched over faintly glinting gun parts. Some lay out on bed rolls, perhaps sleeping, or just wiling away the boredom that accompanied waiting for an attack from above or below. A few took notice of her, but none seemed to recognize her. If they did, they didn’t seem to care.
Florence progressed through the room, looking for someone familiar. A few of the faces she recognized, though none by name. In that moment, Florence made the decision to move in with the rest of the Revolver journeymen, rather than the more comfortable accommodations above she’d been offered by the vicars. While it was true that her status was unofficial, the Vicar Revolver had called her one of the guild. Even if he’d only done so to manipulate Arianna, she’d twist it to her advantage.
In the far corner, separate from everyone else, torchlight painted a head of white hair a soft blue color. Shannra had set out her own lantern, hunching over it to work on her weapons.
“I’m sorry I’m late for today’s lesson.” The other woman jolted as if she’d received a physical shock. Her head whipped around and she looked up at Florence. “Careful you don’t break your neck.”
“Or have a heart attack. Neither are implausible when one sees a ghost.” Shannra’s mouth cracked into a smile. The woman with the moonlit hair stood, embracing Florence without hesitation. “I was worried about you.”
“I told you: You have nothing to worry about.” It was awkward to leave her arms by her sides, so Florence wrapped them around Shannra’s waist.
“So it would seem,” Shannra admitted. “How was the journey here? No issues?”
“No, no issues.” It was easy to get lost in the concern so evident in the other woman’s eyes—a mix of both elation and relief.
“I have something I need to ask you.”
“It sounds important.” Shannra sat, motioning for Florence to join her.
“I would like you to tell me if it is.” Florence debated where to start. In her satchel, she carried a notebook—one Arianna had meticulously transcribed for her. It was the copy of a ledger Louie had her steal from Holx, a ledger containing information on gold storage across Loom. Florence thought about going directly to the Dove with the information, and she still might. But she first wanted to see if Shannra knew anything about the matter. “How much do you know about Louie’s . . . operations?”
“This again?” Shannra’s mouth fell into a frown. “Is it too much to ask if you will ever be capable of putting aside my affiliation with Louie?”
“For now, yes,” Florence answered honestly. “But how much you help me can only quicken that process.”
Shannra sighed. “Very well. What is it?”
“Louie wanted something stolen in Holx, and I want to know why.”
“Louie steals lots of things. I can’t claim to know the reasoning behind every one.” Shannra ran a hand through her wild white hair. “Maybe if you’re more specific . . .?”
“He took the most current ledger from the Ravens’ Guild that contains information about all the gold storage locations across Loom.” Florence studied Shannra’s face. Her surprise seemed genuine. “Do you know why he would want this information?”
“For Louie . . . it doesn’t seem abnormal for him to go after gold.” Shannra shrugged. “I have no doubt that he saw an opportunity and capitalized on it.”
The same idea had crossed Florence’s mind. While she wanted to believe that Louie would not use the current situation to his advantage if doing so would be detrimental to Loom, she had all evidence to prove otherwise. Still, the request sat uneasy with her. Louie had always been obsessed with organs and magic; he had never once shown much of an interest in gold. Reagents, surely, but never gold.
“Very well. But I will still bring this to the attention of the Vicar Raven.”
Shannra sighed. “Do you really want to risk alienating Louie? After all, the Vicar Raven herself knew who she was getting into bed with. She went to him personally to ask him to acquire organs and these magic flowers Arianna seems to need.”
“Arianna can take care of herself. And unlike Louie, I believe her when she says she’s on our side.”
“Very well.” Shannra waved away the unappealing notion. “It’s not my business anyway.”
“Are you still in touch with one of Louie’s men through whisper?”
Shannra merely shrugged. The lack of answer was the distance between them embodied.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She didn’t know what she expected from Shannra, but apparently, she harbored more optimism than she cared to admit.
“One more thing,” Florence said as she stood. She needed to go somewhere else to cool down. “By the time you report to Louie, I will have already informed the vicar of his actions against her guild. So, you may want to use whatever means of communication you have at your disposal to let him know. That way, you can try to remain in his good standing.”
“It’s not like that, you know,” she muttered. “I’m not constantly looking for an opportunity to betray you to him.”
Florence arched her eyebrows.
“I’m not,” the other woman insisted.
“Why does he have your loyalty at all? Why are you involved with him?” Not that it mattered. Whatever her reasons, the fact remained that Shannra was one of Louie’s. And that meant Florence should stay well away.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Florence pressed.
“I was frustrated with the limitations the Revolvers’ Guild put on their students.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “I had all these ideas for projects, but none of them would get approved. They were all deemed too radical, too dangerous.”
“So, you found someone who would fund your ideas.”