By Sapphire Light (The Gemology Saga Book 1), page 15
Hinton cleared his throat and took a few steps closer to the wall. That was not how he should be thinking about the young woman he’d been assigned to help. But her skin was so smooth, her shoulders so soft and flawless. “I’m sorry, it’s just so…”
“They call it an engineering marvel.” Starr swam right up to the edge beside him and linked her arms over the side. She rested her chin on her forearms. The back of her pale-cream undergarments showed now, and Hinton had to force his eyes away from the spot where the fabric met her skin.
“How do you think they make the water feel this good?” Hinton asked, moving his eyes along the rows and columns of piping that ran up and down the facility. The warmth felt marvellous on his tired bones. Starr had been right, he didn’t even notice the smell anymore.
“I think they use charged coal,” Starr said. “They must. But I imagine they pair it with something. Kind of like how amethyst works with tourmaline. I know that below us is an engine that moves the water up. See, feel.” She reached out and grabbed Hinton’s arm before he could stop her. She thrust it under the water.
He felt a strong current where the water bubbled out. “It’s like being inside a giant engine,” Hinton said. “It’s the same premise as steam power, but instead of closing in the water, they’ve let it go free.”
“There are intakes too, you’ll feel a light pull if you swim by them. Try not to get too close. They’ve been known to tangle up the clothes of a swimmer or two.” Starr laughed and ducked under the water. When she surfaced again, she was nearly twenty feet away and her dark hair was plastered to her scalp.
It had been a long time since Hinton had swam. He dove under the water and swam along the bottom of the pool like Starr had. He opened his eyes and saw her legs, clad only in frilly little shorts. He swam past her, pushing himself almost to the end of the pool, where some other groups of bathers sat together in small groups of soft conversation. A few servants stood at the side of the pool, holding trays of alcohol and little snacks. A few of the servants were Laéanin—from the lost country of Laéanas across the sea. They bore the mark of refuge on their face, an almost complete circle on their right cheek. A single space at the top of the circle represented their being welcomed to take refuge in Yurdeh, the land they had shunned hundreds of years before. Of course, acceptance had come with a cost. The last people to immigrate from Laéanas had come to Yurdeh seventy years before. The servants at the side of the pool were much younger than that. Children had been the price—five generations of offspring would be marked. Hinton’s blood boiled at the thought—the only difference between the Laéanin servants and the Yurdeh people was luck.
“Where did you learn to swim so well?” Starr appeared out of the water beside him.
Hinton shrugged, then made his way over to the edge of the pool again. The metal edge was warm, but if he reached out further, to the iron walkway surrounding the gold pool, it was cold. He stretched his arms out for the chill. Shivers ran down his spine.
“I grew up in Caloon. All the children swim. If you’re being too loud in the house or driving your mother crazy, she sends you outside to swim in the river. If you’re helping in the water oat fields, your father will make you dive to check the condition of the roots. In Caloon, life is about water. On days there was no work during Fira, the hottest days of summer, we’d often go down to the ocean to swim.”
“That sounds like a nice childhood,” Starr said in a tone that made Hinton wonder what her childhood had been like, but before he could ask, Starr climbed out of the pool and told him they were going to the top. Her clothes stuck tightly to her body, boldly displaying her curves. He liked how soft yet strong she looked, but then he remembered what she’d said about not really looking and turned his eyes down to the grates as they walked over to the next ladder.
“It’s cold,” Hinton said, as they began to climb up. “But it’s surprisingly pleasant. It makes me look forward to the next pool.”
Starr paused to smile down at him. “It’s even hotter than the last one,” she said.
Starr was right, the next pool was hotter. The bathers up there all had pink cheeks from the heat. They reminded Hinton of the mud-fish, brown shelled organisms that lived on the ocean floor and were a delicacy in Caloon—though the rest of Yurdeh eschewed their taste. His father always bought some as a present for his mother whenever they’d returned from a long trip selling refurbished parts across the country. The mud-fish turned red when you cooked them, but when you cracked open the shell, the meat inside was white and delicious, salty, sweet and soft at the same time.
“Where did you learn to swim?” Hinton asked Starr as they soaked in the water.
“Here, mostly,” she said. “Mom and I always stop here on our way to and from Outho’s. At first I was too scared to put my head under the water, but Mom convinced me.”
“How?” Hinton heard the tinge of sadness in Starr’s voice, but there was also the suggestion of a curve to her lips, like it made her happy to talk about her mother.
“She’d bring gems—uncharged ones—and hold them under the water. If I dove under and identified the gem, she’d buy me a small cake before we got on the next train.”
“Ah, bribery,” Hinton said. “And with cakes, too. That’s almost not fair.”
“You’re jealous now, aren’t you?”
“Depends. Where do they sell these cakes, and how much do they cost?”
“Catch me and maybe I’ll tell you,” Starr said with a wink. Then she dove under the water and out of sight.
Starr knew there was a boarding house above her favourite restaurant though she’d never stayed there. She’d always stayed in the women’s boarding house with her mother. The boarding house above the restaurant was only for married couples without children, which would suit them perfectly this night. Starr and Hinton wore their fake wedding rings. Starr twisted the band around and around on her finger as they drove a few blocks past the baths and further toward the centre of the town. The scent of the baths trailed after them. Starr liked the sour smell. It reminded her of heat, relaxation, and all the coal mines she’d explored with her mother.
She knew there were those who complained about it, in fact, she overheard a young woman in a bright red skirt and white corset complaining to a man whom she walked arm in arm with.
“You think they could do something about it. It’s like living on a farm.”
Starr almost laughed, few people had ever been on a farm these days, since there were so few. But people still spoke about them like they were commonplace, though mostly in regard to unpleasant smells.
“Turn right here,” Starr directed Hinton. He stopped at a crosswalk to let another cart pass. This cart was designed to carry only people, which seemed like a waste, though the rich seemed to prefer the covered and comfortable style of horseless carriage with a professional driver seated on top.
“It should be somewhere on this street,” Starr said, watching the buildings pass by. They were all still rather shiny. Crater Town hadn’t existed fifty years ago and it showed. Everything in Crater Town had smooth edges and straight lines. The streets ran directly north, south, east, and west. The sidewalks were all grated, and the roads were made from smooth metal with tiny little drain holes to let the water through. The sidewalks were elevated just slightly off the road, so that there was a clear demarcation between the pedestrian walks and the space for motorized carts and carriages.
“There it is!” Starr pointed excitedly at the blue and white striped awning above the door. A second later, she noticed that the windows were dark. “I can’t believe it’s closed!” Starr moaned as Hinton pulled over and parked the cart in front of the restaurant.
“I’m starving.” Starr climbed off the cart and pressed her head against the restaurant’s glass window, making sure there was no one inside. She hoped that a waitress would still be cleaning and would sell her a cake out the door, but alas, there was no one inside.
“We’ll have to find somewhere else to eat. Let’s just get a room.” Hinton tugged on Starr’s arm, first gently, then harder when she refused to be pulled from the window. The next door over was illuminated by two sapphire sconces, one on each side.
A sign painted on the glass read: Joeseph’s Reputable House for Married Couples (Children Not Permitted). The bit about children was painted in smaller writing than the name of the boarding house itself. The scroll was high quality, and the door looked strong and sturdy, signs of a well-run establishment. But also of expense.
“I hope it isn’t more than we can afford,” Starr whispered as Hinton opened the door, making a small bell dingle about their heads. He gave her a small smile as he waved her through.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s just one night.”
The open door revealed a red carpeted hallway. Carpet was rare, another luxury that most people couldn’t afford. But this carpet was old. The once plush threads beaten down and flattened. Some places were worn so thin that small holes had begun to form. But the carpet was clean, the colour still relatively bright. Starr did not relish the idea of looking for another boarding house this late at night if they couldn’t afford this one.
At the top of the stairs was a large, metallic desk and a man with a thin black moustache. The man sat on a chair, his feet on top of the desk, crossed at the ankles. He read the evening newspaper. The large, bold-face headline read: BGMC TO CLOSE CRATER ACCESS TO PUBLIC.
Starr wasn’t surprised to read about it, there had been talk for years about BGMC wanting to prevent the public from being able to access the crater through their well maintained and expensive roadways, but Starr hadn’t ever thought the government would let them do it. All crater access points were supposed to be public.
The man peered over the edge of the paper and looked at them. He sighed quietly, his displeasure at having to work rather obvious. He folded his paper and stood. “Can I help you?”
“Do you have any rooms available for the evening?”
The man looked down his thin nose at them. Starr felt the weight of his eyes rest on the ring itching her finger. Her cheeks heated, the lie threatening to pour out of her body. But she was comfortable with Hinton now, and was more scared of the idea of sleeping alone. She thought back to how she had been woken at Madame Obed’s in the middle of the night. If Madame Obed hadn’t warned Starr that those men were looking for her, she could only imagine all the horrible places she’d be in now.
The man looked them over. “Five golden,” he said.
“Look, Lewis,” Hinton said. Starr wondered how Hinton had known the man’s name, then she spotted the etched metal name tag pinned to his yellow and white striped vest. “Five golden is more than the going rate. Rooms in Armason don’t even cost five golden.”
Starr was surprised that Hinton was bargaining. She’d never bargained for a hotel room before in her life. She and her mother had always gone to their regular places, where they knew the price and it very rarely changed.
The man pinched his eyes, giving him a sour expression. “This is not Armason. Crater Town is a bustling city of exploration. It’s the edge of the new world. Rooms are hard to come by.”
“I’ll pay you three golden for your nicest room.” Hinton leaned forward, a big smile on his face. He looked friendly, jovial.
Lewis did not. He picked up his paper, sat down, and tossed his legs back up on the desk. It appeared he wasn’t willing to bargain.
“Come on,” Starr said. “I know another place.”
This time it was her pulling Hinton firmly by the arm until his feet moved across the floor and down the stairs. They stepped back out onto the street and found an explosion of shouting people. Some carried burning torches, fire licking up to the sky. It had been a long time since Starr had seen real fire, it was so rarely used. It was obvious that this night fire was being used to make a point.
“No more BG!” people shouted in chorus. Men in rough-spun trousers and women in high boots and tight corsets marched through the streets. Starr heard the shatter of glass, a gunshot, then another.
The people were rioting.
And they were getting closer.
“We can’t go out in that,” Starr said, pressing her back against the cool metal building they had just exited. Hinton looked at the crowd, his eyes glittered with reflected firelight.
“No,” he said. “We shouldn’t.”
She noticed he didn’t say can’t. And he said shouldn’t almost with regret. Like he would join the protestors if he could.
Starr squinted to read the protestors’ small, painted metal signs being waved about on metal poles. All of them were about BGMC. All of them were about the right to access the crater.
“No more BG! No more BG!” The chant grew louder as the crowd neared.
From the other end of the street, the amplified voice of the Yurdeh Guard echoed in warning. “Put the signs down. Return to your homes. All those caught destroying property will be arrested. This is an unsanctioned demonstration. Rioters will be arrested.”
Starr reached for Hinton’s hand. He gripped hers tightly. His fingers were warm. His skin rough from working with his hands. “I guess we’ll take the expensive room,” he said.
Starr pulled the door open and slipped inside. When they reached the top of the stairs, they heard the glass shatter.
Chapter Twelve
Coiffe hated being stuck in his rooms. But security insisted it wasn’t safe for him on the streets of Crater Town.
“They don’t know my face that well,” Coiffe argued. “I’ll just change my hat.” Gregory had pinched his brow into a disdainful look and told Coiffe he wouldn’t even bother lowering himself to that debate. Coiffe knew Gregory had a point. If people were out for Mogovern blood, they would figure out who he was and track him down. And it didn’t help that he was better dressed than most of the Crater Town rabble, even when he didn’t try.
Flint seemed equally displeased with the situation. Coiffe’s half-brother sat in a plush recliner by the window, drinking tea from a small, flowered cup with a matching pot. Their rooms at the Central Arms were the best on offer. Three private bedrooms and a large central area with sitting chairs placed just so in front of the windows, a small round table for tea slipped between them. The room had other accoutrements as well, such as the golden music player and a sapphire lit water fountain. The bathroom even had its own private steam bath. There was no need for them to mingle with commoners at the city baths. Flint always wanted to go to the public baths when they were in Crater Town. Coiffe remembered two years earlier when they’d arrived in Crater Town with their father who had an important business engagement. Flint had expressed his desire to see the public baths and ignited a fiery rage in their father who had shouted at Flint for expressing his desire to, “Just be normal,” as he had put it.
“The last thing we are—that we will ever be—is normal.” Stone Mogovern’s voice had been as sharp and dangerous as the blade of a knife.
Since that visit, Flint had stopped asking to go to the baths.
The mood in the city had been dour ever since their arrival by private, first class train car late that morning. Protesters had stood outside the train station shouting and waving signs as if they’d been expecting the arrival of the BGMC heirs. Thankfully, Gregory had been able to convince the station master to show them a way to bypass the main gate and the protestors. In a dark, windowless carriage, Gregory and Raibyn had ushered Coiffe and Flint to the hotel. Upon arriving, Gregory had advised them not to leave their rooms.
Now the afternoon moved on without them as they waited in the hotel. It would be another day before the shipment of gemstones they were to accompany would arrive in Crater Town. Only once the gems were received would Coiffe and Flint leave the city for the BGMC charging facility to the north. They would inspect the shipment and do inventory, then they would remain at the facility to check the quality and quantity of recently charged gems. Coiffe would complete an audit of the books, and relay their father’s instructions on where the charged gems were to be transported. After that, Coiffe and Flint were to accompany another large shipment of charged gems up to Armason.
Though that was only if other, more important business didn’t take Coiffe away from Crater Town earlier than that.
Coiffe excused himself from Flint’s company and went across the hall to the guard’s room. Inside, Gregory sat at a steel desk. An array of uniquely shaped amethyst stones was set out before him, including a small carved dragon, which was used to contact Stone Mogovern directly, a small rabbit, for Flint’s mother, as she often wanted an update on how her son was doing, much to Gregory’s and Coiffe’s annoyance, and several other animals—from foxes to cats, each representing a specific BGMC mine or factory, and then a series of sharp pyramids, which represented Gregory’s direct reports.
Coiffe’s mind swam at the sight of all the lights blinking on and off, signalling incoming messages. He was glad he had people to do this kind of work for him. He preferred to keep his mind above the little annoyances of the day. Of course, Coiffe did have some of his own private stones, but he found he rarely used them. He specifically avoided the stone that was paired to his betrothed, Alma, not that she bothered to message him very often.
“I’ve sent word to increase security at the Impact factory gate. Security has been instructed to remove protestors, as required. No one should bother us when we head out tomorrow.”
Gregory dipped his pen in a glass ink bottle and scribbled some lines in his notebook. He bent his head of grey hair over the paper and wrote in small, tiny letters to save space. Paper was not a resource to be wasted. Newspapers, such as the one Flint was currently reading in the other room, were recycled day after day. Large pulping stations existed at the edge of Crater Town to melt and reform the paper. But nice writing paper, like the kind Gregory had in his book, was expensive.
