“Tali. Can you take a break? Please.”

  Lucas is lying on one of the beds in the small room, his arm over his eyes to block out the light. Xan is on another, lying on her side with her back to us, just as she was the day we met in the hostel.

  I can’t believe she can sleep. I haven’t been able to stop pacing. My wonder at the discovery of the underground city has quickly given way to an increasing sense of panic at the wasted time. We need to get to the Citadel. We need to get there fast. We cannot afford to be kidnapped and held by whoever these cave people are for whatever period of time they decide to hold us.

  The room we are in is part of a larger construct—a house or whatever amounts to it down here, based on the brief glimpses I was able to get before being deposited into this room. They unbound us, and they asked if we would prefer to put Lucas in a separate room for modesty. We declined, although I get the feeling Lucas may be starting to regret the hasty decision.

  They politely informed us that there was a washroom accessible from our holding cell, and continued to ignore my demands for answers as they left, locking the door behind them.

  “Tali,” Lucas says again, and the note of irritation in his voice tells me he’s said it more than a few times.

  “What?” I whirl to face him, unleashing a good portion of my pent-up outrage into that single syllable.

  He removes his arm from his face and lifts his head to look at me. “Can you. Please. Take a creaking, cogging, fucking break.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard the even-tempered Lucas sound quite so annoyed. I return to furiously pacing. “I need to think. You could try helping if it bothers you so much.”

  Lucas groans. “You know what helps with thinking? Getting some sleep.”

  “Sorry I don’t just curl up for a nap every time the opportunity presents itself,” I snap. “I actually want to get back to the Talavar. Although if you’re less than anxious to get back and tell Charlie you set me up, I guess that checks out.”

  He ignores the jab and closes his eyes. I resolutely refuse to feel guilty.

  “But I’d think you’d want to for Ren’s sake at least,” I add, hoping to prod a reaction from him. I don’t know why I want him to fight with me. Maybe it’s like those places on the train’s routes where a pressure starts to build between my ears and I need to move my jaw around until they pop in order to get relief. The prospect of direct conflict feels like it might pop the current bubble of anxiety and fury building up in my chest.

  “You’re right,” he says, sitting up abruptly. “Let’s run back and forth across the room until we both pass out. That way we will get to the Citadel sooner. Flawless plan.”

  Xan snorts. I glance in her direction to find her sitting up as well, watching us as if we’re performing. There’s not a hint of sleep around her eyes.

  While I cast about for a reply scorching enough to be worth my while, the door to our little cell opens and a man steps in. I recognize him as the captor who apologetically gagged me several hours ago and scowl at him meaningfully.

  “Please come with me,” he says, holding the door open for us.

  I glance at Xan again, this time worried. She answers with a little shrug that says “Might as well” and we troop after the man.

  He leads us around to the sloping part of the spiral floor that serves as a stairway to the level below us. I keep my scowl in place, directing it at the curious looks of passersby. A part of me wants to examine them with the same frank curiosity but the larger part of my brain is occupied with the relentless passing of moments and hours we will never get back.

  On the second level our guide surprises me by turning into a wide corridor that opens at its other end to a second spiral, nearly identical to the first. My sense of the scope of this place drastically realigns itself as I realize this layout might allow for any number of corridors leading to any number of multi-level spiraling circles. The disappearing city is not just deep, it seems, but wide.

  Despite myself, I gape around at the second set of vaulted ceilings and tiered floors. The Disappearing City rumor started about twenty years ago, according to Yanto, but that timeline can’t be right.

  “There is no way this place was built in the last twenty or thirty years,” Lucas says, echoing my thoughts. “It’s massive.”

  The center of this circle appears to be some kind of garden, some of the plants and trees tall enough even to reach our level.

  Our guide glances back at us and has the audacity to look as if he’s taking pride in our awe.

  “Don’t take it personally,” I tell him. “You didn’t build all this yourself.”

  He flashes me a wide grin and keeps walking. I scowl even harder at the back of his head.

  We take the slope again, this time to the bottom level where the guide leads us through another door into what looks like a comfortably sized home. Seated on the couch inside is a woman who might be somewhere in her late forties, wearing comfortable looking linen trousers and pink blouse made of something soft and opalescent. Her silver and red hair is pulled back into a neat bun and she looks up from an ancient slate when we come in.

  “Thank you Ahmad,” she says to the guide.

  “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he says, more a warning to us than a reassurance to her I am certain.

  The woman stands to greet us with a warm smile and I notice she, too, has tiny flecks of something that sparkle on her pale skin. It must be the fashion down here.

  “I’m Rowena,” she says, holding her hands out in a welcoming gesture. “And I owe you all an apology. Our scouts can be… overly enthusiastic at times. I’m sure you’ve found our welcome less than hospitable so far, and for that I am truly sorry.”

  The whole speech has a rehearsed feel to it. I don’t buy it for a second.

  “Of course,” Xan says, unsmiling. “That’s how it goes, right? They kidnap us and put us in a windowless cell, and then you get to be the good guy and soften us up. The keepers have a similar routine.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  If our response bothers Rowena she gives no sign. “Unfortunately we’re a little short on windows down here,” she says with a wry smile. “But I respect your skepticism. I hope it won’t prevent you from joining me for dinner though. I’m guessing you’re hungry.”

  “Why not just send food to our holding cell?” Xan asks.

  Rowena nods. “We can, if you prefer. Whatever you’re comfortable with. But I know you must have questions, and I can answer them for you. Also my partner is an excellent cook.”

  Rowena’s partner, Medore, is a plump woman with skin a deep, rich brown and shrewd eyes. She’s somewhere in her 50s, I’m guessing, and startlingly beautiful. She is polite, but gives off none of Rowena’s practiced warmth. That makes me like her a little.

  She welcomes us with a watchful air and serves us the best dinner I’ve had since leaving the Talavar. Maybe since before that. The warm, flat bread is made from real wheat and the roasted vegetables taste like they’ve never been frozen or freeze dried. Xan winks at me when she spears a mushroom with a fork. Our hosts, or captors, or whatever they are, serve a rich wine that’s just a touch too sweet for my taste, and a hot, dark tea with what appears to be real sugar.

  If Rowena’s plan is to win me over with food, it won’t work. All the same I feel an urgency to get out of this place before I am tested too thoroughly on that point.

  “So,” Rowena says at length, smiling at Xan. “What exactly is it that you think I am softening you up for?”

  Xan looks up from her plate with a slight frown. “You tell me. I’m not the one tying people up and hauling them underground.”

  Rowena’s smile doesn’t change. “Fair enough. I do apologize again for the treatment you received at the hands of our scouts.”

  “If this was all a misunderstanding,” I pipe up, “then we thank you for the meal and would appreciate directions to the exit.”

  The woman turns to look at me, her expression sympathetic. We both know the answer, but she tries to frame it gently for me.

  “It’s not quite as… uncomplicated as that.”

  Xan’s smile tells me she was expecting this as well.

  “Allow me to tell you a little about this place,” Rowena says, spreading her hands in a gesture meant to both welcome and illustrate.

  “I think I pretty much get it,” says Xan. “You and your people needed to escape something, decommissioning of your town maybe, or the Pall, or you’re just all very allergic to sunlight, I don’t know. So you moved down here. Only, the amount of work it would take to excavate and build something like this would be impossible, even for a city full of people, which means you must have a mage. And not a back-alley mod mage, either, we’re talking someone with real power. Probably more than one, I would guess, or else you’re working the one you have to death.

  “But, no, it has to be at least two, because it’s not just the massive excavation and building project. You’ve got people living down here for decades and you’re somehow providing light, fresh food—the kind that doesn’t grow anywhere outside the Citadel magic labs—medicine, who knows what else. So you’ve got at least two Committee-level mages living down here. Whether it’s their choice or not...” She gestures with her hands. Who knows?

  Rowena and Medore exchange a quick, inscrutable glance at this.

  “Could be bribery or slavery I guess,” Xan continues. “Either way, that’s a pretty fucking big secret. Which is why, when a few wayward travelers like us stumble into your territory by accident, you have to make sure we can’t take that secret back to the Citadel with us. Have I about got it?”

  Rowena nods her assent, gracious smile never wavering. Medore only watches, her expression shuttered.

  “It was decommissioning,” Rowena confirms. “One of our people had previously managed to escape another station during its decomm and told us what to expect.” She shudders involuntarily. “You don’t want to know what really happens, trust me. But we had to leave. So we left.”

  I feel a begrudging respect for them that they pulled off something that big.

  “We would never have noticed you if your people hadn’t started popping out from behind trees with crossbows,” Lucas observes. “You could have just let us pass.”

  “And we might have, but…” Rowena begins.

  “We were talking about the mushrooms,” I finish with a groan. The absurdity of the fact that we are currently prisoners because we noticed a patch of mushrooms is something I will have to process later. My list of things to think about later is starting to really stack up.

  “You see our dilemma,” Rowena says in a tone that almost succeeds in making me feel that she is the victim. “You were right that we came here to escape the Citadel. There are roughly seven thousand people in Sunward City, including many children, all of whom rely on total secrecy to survive. We are a thriving community only because we have worked so hard to maintain that secrecy for so long without exception.”

  Xan raises an eyebrow. “Sunward City? Really?”

  Medore’s shrug and half-smile seem to say something like: “It seemed funny at the time.”

  “So, what? You fed us and made us sit through all this so you could feel better when you kill us?” I demand.

  Rowena looks affronted, Medore mildly horrified.

  “Of course not. We have no intention of killing you.”

  “Just keeping us prisoner forever?”

  “If that’s what you prefer. But there is a third option: you could join us.”

  “Join you?” says Lucas incredulously. “Just, hi, welcome to our secret cave city, we hope you like it because you’re never leaving?”

  “We of course have programs in place to help people assimilate,” Rowena says. I think she might actually believe she’s saying something reasonable.

  “I’m sorry you have programs? How often do you kidnap hikers around here?”

  She laughs softly. “Admittedly, not often. But since it is an occasional necessity, we do our best to make it as pleasant as possible.”

  I pause for a breath before speaking. I actually do understand their dilemna, but none of their options are going to work for us. “Listen, I get it,” I tell them. “And I’m not sure what we would do in your place. But we have a prior appointment that we really really cannot miss. If we do, people will be searching for us.”

  “No,” Medore says softly, speaking for the first time since dinner to call my obvious bluff. “They won’t.”

  Not bothering to make the case, I try another tack. “You said you came here to escape decommissioning right? Well there’s a whole city currently in the same situation. If we don’t do something, they are all going to die. Let us save them like you saved yourselves.”

  This at least seems to land. Rowena studies me seriously for a moment before answering.

  “Tell me more,” she says.

  Xan catches my eye and gives me a tiny head shake. She doesn’t trust them. Neither do I, but this is my only chance.

  “You said we don’t want to know what happens when a station is decommissioned,” I say, “and you’re right I wish I didn’t know but I do. And a station where our friends live is on the list for this year. We have to stop it.”

  Medore frowns. “How do you know it’s on the list?”

  I open my mouth to answer, then close it again. I don’t think telling them I am close friends with a high-level committee member will do anything for our case here.

  Medore nods, understanding. “Alright, you don’t have to tell me that.” She looks at Rowena, who looks back. Something unspoken passes between them and they turn back to us. A decision of some sort has been made.

  “This is what I’ll do,” Rowena says. “I’ll take your case to the council as soon as possible. If there is a way to let you continue on your way without endangering our people, they will absolutely take that into account in their decision.”

  “Council?” Lucas frowns. “Aren’t you the mayor or governor or whatever?”

  Rowena shakes her head. “We don’t have a central ruler here. We are trying to get away from that type of government. We decide things together, to the extent that we can.”

  Xan smiles placidly. “You know Council is just another word for Committee right?”

  “We do. But we don’t have a singular council that rules. We have multiple councils to assess different areas of our life here, and then come together and discuss major issues so that all aspects can be represented.”

  “Anyone can serve on a Council, and members rotate out every year,” Medore adds, looking proud and pleased despite herself.

  “Aw,” Xan says. “That’s so democratic. It’s a pretty good idea, really, except for the whole… you know… kidnapping thing.” She says it conversationally, with no real rancor to give the words an edge.

  Rowena’s smile has a mournful note in it now, which feels like a bit much to me.

  Poor Rowena, forced to hold people prisoner in her underground democracy.

  “We hold to our principles to the degree that we can,” she says. “In practice, it’s never so simple. There are always a few sacrifices we have to make.”

  “Sacrifices we have to make,” I correct.

  Rowena ignores me. “While we wait for a decision from the council, I will see about getting you all some better lodgings.”