Chapter 29
It took almost no convincing to get Leo to take Farra home to bed. He was pretty drunk, and despite his initial worry about me, I reminded him that I used to do this for a living and I could absolutely take care of myself.
I duck out of the establishment, pretending to leave with Farra and Leo as my cover to Deacon.
His distraction with a blonde beauty he'd run into was good timing.
I don't examine how last year this exact situation would've left me with a roiling gut of jealousy that I'd likely have suffered with all night. Now I just feel relief.
The twins lead me to the other side of town as they chat away.
Mostly making fun of each other for past indiscretions.
Briggs asks several questions about Farra, clearly smitten, and I'm relieved to find out that Mack is, as he puts it, "Betrothed to the smartest girl on the continent.
" To which his brother argued that Mack left said girl behind, in a small town without a word, and he just doesn't understand what being single means.
Listening to them bicker with each other should be concerning, but is oddly charming.
At one point, I really thought they'd actually get into a fistfight arguing over which one of them had broken their arm as a toddler by trying to jump from their tin roof to the neighbour's.
It was hard to follow. Not only do they look identical, but they almost speak their own language; all I can do is watch as they sling insults, jokes––and sometimes even odd compliments between each other at a rapid pace.
"Ahh, here we are!" Mack says enthusiastically.
We walk into a plain building to a completely empty room.
"If you two are planning to murder me, you really didn't need to go to all this trouble," I joke.
Briggs looks mildly offended at the thought, but Mack laughs and leads me down some steps near the back of the hallway.
I get a thick hit of déjà vu as we arrive at what looks like a cellar door, and Mack knocks three times.
These can't be the same Games that come to Strayton.
There is way too much government regulation here.
Briggs excitedly grabs my hand as the door opens, and Mack slips the door guy a coin before strutting into the place.
Walking into the bar is like stepping into another world.
My mouth gapes as I take in the buzzing basement.
Where the last bar was all old wood, simple charm, and government-issued lanterns, this place has electricity.
I'm drawn to the twinkling sign that flickers by the door, reading The Wire.
I stare unblinking, scared that if I look away for a second, I'll miss the florescent hum of the lights.
I look to the twins behind me and give them an honest, blinding grin. I can't help it.
There are small bulbs clinging to wire that hang delicately throughout the ceiling rafters.
I make note of small bar, and cards tables where gruff men and women play different variations of the games I grew up playing.
Music draws my attention, and I audibly gasp.
Some people turn their heads in annoyance, but I really couldn't care less.
"Are these...?!" I murmur to no one in particular, not registering if the boys have been following me around I flit through the room like a hungry bird.
"Speakers? Yes. Have you really never seen this stuff before?" asks Mack, confused. He doesn't say it with judgement, I realize; more like pity. He wipes a hand over his face. "Gods, I forgot how sheltered you lot are," he mutters.
"You lot? What do you mean? I've seen electricity before, but not like this. Not used so... casually. I've seen dead versions of all this rotting in our junkyard," I motion around. It's crowded and humming, and I feel a jolt of adrenaline.
Briggs calls us over to the bar, and I gladly follow. The barkeep sets three drinks down on the table and turns to analyzes me.
"She good?" he asks the twins.
"Yeah, she's cool. Just been a while for her," says Briggs, sounding oddly protective.
The bartender nods after assessing me for another moment. I'm thankful my cadet tags are hidden. I suspect they don't get a lot of government employees down here.
"How is this possible?" I have about forty other questions, but that one's the first from my lips.
"How's what possible?" asks the bartender, who's steadily cleaning and organizing cups.
I wave my hands dramatically around me.
"Oh right, well, electricity isn't gone. It never vanished like magic. We just tap into what's already there." He points to a man standing in the corner tinkering with a box filled with wires, bolts, and who knows what else.
"That's Monty. He used to be Providence's top engineer.
They canned him a couple years ago––said his vision of New Providence didn't quite mesh with how the council was trying to lead us into the future.
" The barkeep bends down now, speaking more softly.
"This place is his. He has some information about the government that they don't want getting out, so they leave him alone, as long as he keeps his mouth shut. "
"Why wouldn't they just kill him?" I frown, taking a slow sip of my overfilled drink.
"They can't kill me. I created myself a fail-safe," replies a raspy voice behind me.
"Ethra's windy balls! You move like an air sprite," I sputter, pulling laughter from Mack and Briggs, who are still standing nearby chatting like a couple of local celebrities.
"Sorry, didn't mean to spook you...?" He pauses.
I stare curiously at the small man in front of me.
He's got round goggle-like glasses that have clearly been broken and repaired several times over.
He's bald on top, but the rest of his long white hair gives one the impression that he's been electrocuted more than once in his life.
He hands are clasped behind his round belly like he's trying to keep himself in one spot.
His short legs rock him back and forth. His brown eyes look huge behind his glasses, silver rims against umber skin.
"Maple," I answer, sticking out my hand for him.
"Maple...?" He asks, wide-eyed and expectant.
"Maple Treow. And you are?" I ask, shaking his hand enthusiastically when he takes mine. From another man his age, this prolonged handshake would seem creepy, but I can tell he doesn't have those kinds of aspirations. He's treating me more like an equation to be solved, rather than prey.
"Montgomery Orville. Pleased to meet you," he turns the words over in his mouth like he's holding marbles in there, still shaking my hand. "As I was saying before ––they can't kill me because I ensured they couldn't. And no, I can't tell you how. Although it is quite the story."
"I'm sure it is," I reply, pulling my hand away. He seems to notice, and his cheeks pink ever so slightly.
"Treow, you say? I haven't heard that name in a while," he mumbles, bouncing again and pushing up his glasses.
"Yes, it means trees," I say plainly, waiting for the joke about my first name.
"Ah yes, that. But it also means healer, humanitarian ––leader, even.
One who instills loyalty... In the old language, of course, you know.
" There's a warm glint in his big brown eyes as he looks over my face.
"Names are fascinating, aren't they? They always have great meaning.
Are they prophecy? Do people behave in certain way because of the meaning of their names, or is it divine intervention?
I suppose mothers could have some intuition about their offspring. .." He rambles.
"Right..." I say.
"Anyhow. Nice to meet you. Enjoy your refreshments. Keep a sharp eye out; we do attract some riff-raff."
He points behind him to where a man wearing an eyepatch is cursing at a woman picking her teeth with a knife. They sit at a games table. I assume the game is not going well for him.
I watch Monty bounce back to his booth in the corner, continuing to tinker with whatever new gadget he’s managed to collect. As I watch him, I realize there’s an awareness about him. He’s focused, but I catch his ears twitch, and his nose crinkle as he tracks the sounds of his patrons in the room.
Taking my drink, I follow the twins to a table off to the side of the room. A smile forms on my lips as I watch the gamblers immersed in their games.
Remembering why I’m here, I lean towards Briggs and ask, "So, where are you two from?"
"Zaphira," Briggs responds easily, but I notice Mack tense slightly at the answer.
"Wow! How long have you been in New Providence? How’d you get over here?" I know as soon as the words are out of my lips I’m appearing too eager. Mack’s body language changes completely, and Briggs seems to withdraw. Shit.
"How about we keep the questions that could get all of us in trouble to a minimum, yeah?" Briggs replies.
"Sorry ––just hoping to get to know you guys. It’s rare I meet someone from another country…" I tap the table with my fingers thoughtfully, looking around the room. "What if we played for truths?" I motion towards the table beside us playing cards.
Briggs grins, "Do you play?"
"I have before, yeah. My dad taught me to play when I was younger, before he disappeared," I answer honestly, and it has the desired effect. Both Briggs and Mack soften.
"Well, let’s do it!" Briggs says, jumping up and heading to the bar. He murmurs something to the bar keep and is handed a stack of cards, coin and dice.
Mack hesitates, scratching his jaw like he’s contemplating.
"Hey, it’s basically two against one, and I haven’t played in a long time," I lie… "Loser has to answer a question from the winner of the hand?" I raise my eyebrows in challenge, and Mack smiles.
"OK, fine."
"You have to answer each question honestly, or Ignius himself will come and light you on fire and you’ll have one hundred years of bad luck... Oh! and winner of each hand has to drink!" Briggs adds mischievously, smirking at both of us.
Son of a bitch.