Elian could barely believe his ears. Did his sister just admit to high treason?
"You are in possession of restricted explosives?" Borrun shouted, his voice echoing in the cavern. "By the Stone, you truly are terrorists! The Prince is dead from Sun-Dust, and you have a stockpile of it? You just handed the Council the noose to hang us all!"
"We didn't kill him!" Mara snapped, glaring at the dwarf. "We stole the shipment three days ago! We intended to use it to blow the locks on the granaries or the reservoirs, to force the Council to lower prices. It's been sitting in the back of the Hollows untouched!"
Elian held up a hand, his mind racing. "Stop. Both of you."
He looked at his sister. "Show me."
The three stopped talking and kept quiet the rest of the way.
She led them deeper than Elian had ever been. Past the drainage lines, down into the "Old City"—the layers of history Aurion had built over and forgotten.
They emerged into a massive, cavernous space. It was a hollowed-out intersection of ancient aqueducts.
Elian stopped. He had expected a bunker. He found a village.
Tents made of patched canvas and stolen tarps clustered around small fires. Cooking pots bubbled with thin gray broth. There were children chasing rats with sticks, and old men coughing in the shadows. It smelled of mildew and unwashed bodies, but also of something else: survival.
"Home sweet hell," Mara muttered.
As they walked into the light of the fires, the chatter died.
One by one, heads turned. Eyes widened. Then, they narrowed.
"Blue-Coats," someone hissed.
"A Rock-Eater!" another voice spat.
A massive feline beastman stepped out from a tent near the center fire. He was built like a brick wall, a long scar running down the left side of his face. This was Gale. He held a heavy iron pry-bar like a club.
"Mara," Gale rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "You went topside for supplies. You brought back garbage."
He pointed the pry-bar at Borrun. "What's a Rock-Eater doing here?"
Borrun's hand drifted to his sword, but Elian grabbed his wrist. "Don't," Elian whispered.
"Stand down Gale," Mara said, not breaking stride.
"You brought a Dwarf into the Hollows?" Gale shouted, stepping into their path. The camp circled around them, a ring of hostile faces. "He could be a spy for the Council! Are you mad?"
"I brought an ally," Mara snapped, stepping chest-to-chest with the giant man. She was half his size, but Gale flinched first. "Someone has put us in a trap and this dwarf could be the only one that can free us. If you don't want the Iron Guard to flush this whole sewer with poison gas, you will let them pass."
Gale glared at Borrun, spitting on the ground near the dwarf's boots. "If he makes a wrong move, I'll crack his shell."
"Understood," Borrun said evenly. He looked around the camp and asked, "So, where do you keep the ill-gotten goods?"
Mara signaled to Gale. The big pantherman growled, and led them down another side tunnel. After a few minutes of walking, they ended up at a shadowed alcove covered by a heavy tarp, and threw it back.
There, stacked against the damp wall, were three crates stamped with the warning sigils of the Engineers Guild. IGNIS PULVERIS. The Sun-Dust that had changed the lives of Elian and his friends.
Elian walked over and ran a hand over the wood. "The lids are sealed," he murmured. "The wax is unbroken."
"We haven't touched it," Gale said defensively. "We were waiting for the right target."
"Don't you see?" Elian turned back to the group. "This is the frame-up. The killer used a weapon that mimics the effect of Sun-Dust—or a small amount from a different source—because they knew you had stolen this shipment. They knew the investigation would lead to the missing explosives, and the missing explosives would lead to the Ironless."
Borrun approached the crates, his anger cooling into cold calculation. "They didn't just want the Prince dead," he rumbled. "They wanted an excuse to wipe out the Sump. And you gave it to them."
"We didn't know," Mara whispered.
"Where did you steal this from?" Borrun asked, his voice demanding.
"A private depot in the Artisan District," Mara said. "Warehouse 4B".
"How did you know the Sun-Dust would be there? ," Elian asked, racking his brain trying to solve this infernal puzzle.
This time Gale answered, "One of our members tipped us off. Said he got good intel from his old workplace."
Elian turned to face him. "Who? Where is he now?"
Gale looked at Mara, waiting for her approval. Mara nodded.
"Goes by the name Tychus. Supposed to meet up yesterday but I haven't seen him around yet."
"You know him well, this Tychus fellow?" Borrun chimed in.
Gale hesitated for a moment and then answered the dwarf, "Well he joined us almost a year ago. Works at the docks by the river. He believes in our cause."
Borrun scratched his beard, eyes glinting. "Maybe he set you up. Either knowingly or not."
"Hey, we are no fools. I would know if he was lying to us -" started Gale, but Mara stopped him.
"Gale, just shut up and listen. Maybe you haven't heard, but Prince Thrain is dead. Murdered. And they are blaming it on us."
Gale went wide-eyed with shock.
Borrun let out a low sigh, "Whoever is behind this plot, must have let you steal it. Or made sure it was easy enough for you to take."
Borrun looked at the crates, then at Elian. "If the weapon that killed the Prince wasn't this dust... there might be proof of who organized this charade at the warehouse. Might want to look into this Tychus fellow as well."
"Then we have to go back," Elian said. "We have to break into the place you robbed."
"We can't hit the warehouse tonight," Mara said, her voice echoing off the curved walls of the tunnel. "The city is swarming. Every Blue-Coat and Iron Guard is kicking down doors looking for you two. If we surface now, we die."
Elian leaned against the damp brickwork, clutching his ribs. "So we hide?"
"We regroup," Mara corrected. "Follow me. And keep your heads down. My people aren't exactly fond of badges."