He tightened the ropes tied around his wrists and spied both left and right. The alleyway was tight, but not enough for his liking.

  He turned around and hissed into the slim open window. "What's taking so long? I said take whatever you can, not whatever you want."

  His words beckoned the darkness within and it moved. In between boxes and crates that he could only barely see, a shadow shifted. It turned and stared at him with two vexed jungle colored eyes.

  "Oh I'm sorry mister 'I'm so good at telling people how to do their jobs', would you like to come inside and take my place? Maybe you'd accelerate our chances of getting caught!" Malorie hissed back.

  Finnian rolled his eyes. "Rolan and Milly are probably already at the knitting factory, and you know how Rolan gets when things aren't on time."

  "Do I have to remind you that this was your idea?" She said as she ducked back into the shadows in search of something with an extra shine to it.

  He sneered and twisted his head in both directions. Workers walked by but nobody had the time to stop and shift their gazes. The morning traffic was relentless and it moved like a beast with its tail on fire and a hunter not far behind—to stop and consider was to die.

  As he scanned, his eyes caught something—a glimmer. His stare transfixed on a small fire. Just as it was rare, it was beautiful. It bellowed up and then died back down, the red velvety edges snapping into the air with golden cracks and sparks. 'Who in the blazes is stupid enough to light a fire down here?' The thought crossed his mind. But he remained trained on the firelight. He felt something wet trickle down his face. Was it sweat? His mind began to race as his gaze began to waver. All of the sounds around quieted into the din. His heart thumped above the rhythm of the traffic and the roars of people.

  A sound began to echo louder than the infernal cracking. It boomed, but it didn't make any sense. Boom, Boom, Boom. And then. "DOLUS!"

  Finnian snapped out of the trance. He shook his head and looked back into the building. "Sorry, thought I saw something. What is it?"

  Malorie raced through the crates, holding something in her left hand. "Someone's coming down the stairs, come on help me out!" She said as she jumped for the window ledge. Finnian grasped her wrist firmly and by putting his foot on the wall dragged her out. Quick as dust in the wind they were out of the alley and in the traffic before the door had opened. He wasted one last glance to eye the blood red fire before they were around the corner.

  They both wore their worker garbs so fitting in with the crowd was no challenge. Finnian kept close to Malorie and asked in a mouse-like voice. "What you got? Anything worth selling?"

  Malorie held up something wrapped in swampy cloth. Carefully she lifted the cloth to reveal a rectangular box.

  "Looks like we found ourselves a criminal." He grinned as he stared at the container. Malorie snickered.

  "Bugger seems to be into old stuff. I found a whole stash in there dedicated to elder items and things before the collapse and the new laws." She opened the box and produced a small stick. Closeup it smelled of soil and bark, but it was quickly drowned out by the stench of sulfur. She put the small stick in her mouth and smiled. "How do I look?"

  "Like you're one drink away from causing a scene."

  They walked with the crowd for a while until it diverged into three different paths. Aiming to get to the factories, they took the leftmost one and went into the walled off area of the Bowels where machines burned and churned.

  As the swamp walls turned to blackened red stone and coal dust he grabbed a soot covered cap from around his belt and pulled it over his head and ears. The noise of feet and muted voices turned to metal clanks and screeches. And along with the metal came the feint cracks of fire. He spied a glance at Malorie who seemed unafraid in comparison, though she plucked the stick from her lips and pocketed it carefully.

  They went deeper and downward. Rock cracking mechanisms were fed by conveyor belts carrying gem-rich geodes into their maws. In a less noisy part of the metal tunnels were the sifters—spiraling vents and tubes where glowing gemdust flowed like the sun-lit quartz on a beach.

  When they neared their cut-off tunnel Malorie tugged at his cloak. He nodded and, in a practiced motion they both diverged from their train of people into a compressed stairway. The air grew from stinging coal to cold and dense with wet stone. Their feet echoed in and soon became the only noise as they descended.

  "Why'd you do it?" Malorie asked to his side, breaking the silence.

  "What do mean, what did I do this time?" Finnian played off the question.

  She snorted in derision. "You could easily have forked my desires and agreed with Rolan to leave. Hell, even Milly would've gone with it. So," She looked at him with cursory intent. "Why didn't you?"

  He couldn't lie to her, he knew as much. She'd know the moment the words left his mouth whether they were what he believed in or not. So he chose carefully.

  "I believe that there is more to be found in this crown-forsaken city now more than ever. With the conclave gone and rich rats coming from all over, it's the perfect time to aim for something above average." He spoke the half-truth.

  Malorie squinted. Finnian swallowed.

  "And of course, if we make enough from the following hauls, we'll just be able to put those funds towards a move regardless. Besides, it's about time our little group grew some muscle." He smirked.

  His interrogator studied him but soon sighed and looked straight again. "Thank you."

  Before too long they reached the bottom which opened up into a large dark blue chamber. It wasn't empty, rather there were people walking around with baskets of cotton and gleaming silks. He stared at a large casket wherein laid shimmering silversilk that pulsed with a natural subterranean light. Man-operated wooden machines spun the copper gemsilks into fine copper threading which were then spun around small discs and placed in crates to be taken to stores and city officials.

  They approached a man with olive skin and who sat on spinner absorbed in his work, one hand cranking a lever and the other adjusting the oncoming threads into five different columns.

  His eyes which were a faded rouge broke from his trade to look up at them approaching but his hands continued working. He flicked to and fro, judging them.

  "What is your purpose here." He asked with the begrudged disinterest of a middleman expecting the same answer from all but having to ask regardless.

  "We are here to see the Lady Seamstress. I believe our companions are already here and waiting for us."

  "And your names?"

  "Malorie and Dolus."

  A quiet moment passed before the man groaned and pulled a brake, causing the apparatus to seize. He stepped off and waved for them to follow.

  They looked to eachother. Malorie tilted her head in a "whatever" expression and they followed.

  They soon found themselves in a chamber rimmed with colorful drapes all over the walls and ceiling.

  The man whose name they still didn't know walked up to an otherwise inconspicous piece of cloth and pulled it aside to reveal yet another clausterphobic stairway. He motioned with his hand and smiled at their obvious discomfort.

  Malorie went first and Finnian quickly in toe. The drape fell back in place, leaving them in mostly dark tunnel except the weak mana lights in the ceiling that would likely be put out of service within a year.

  Stolen story; please report.

  "I never really liked the factories." He sparked the coal of conversation. "I mean obviously nobody really likes spending their days working metal gears and levers for a living. But these tunnels, they just go on forever in a purposeless maze of stone."

  "I'm forced to agree." She replied dourly. "I never worked in the factories but folk told stories of what it were like before the commitee forced a repurposing. You used to work here before the collapse too, right? I remember you mentioning it during the nights out."

  "After. We were forced to make use of many unconventional passages while the main ones underwent service. Not a fun experience I'll tell you that."

  He looked down at Malorie's hands, specifically her fingers. "How about you? What were you like before the band. You don't talk about it very much."

  Her index and middle finger twitched. The gamble hadn't paid off.

  "Not much really." She answered dully. "Milly and I spent most of our days making our wage by selling fish jerky from the hauls everyone thought was rotten. I've told you about it at some point, back in our first year together." She glanced over her shoulder at him with a suspicious face. "Why do you want to know?"

  "Well you just don't seem to talk about it a lot and we've been together for quite some time," He deflected. "So just curiosity I suppose."

  Malorie made no outward expression but something behind her eyes suggested she didn't believe him. Without saying a word she turned back to concentrating on the descent.

  The walk down took 5 minutes total. Too long in Finnian's opinion. There was no door, rather they just entered a rectangular room with stone benches. And it just so happened that Rolan sat on one of those. He had probably heard their echoing steps, because he stared at them with a face suggesting he'd expected disappointment, and had been correct.

  "Milly and the Seamstress are waiting inside. Give Mal your pouch, Dolus. The old lady won't let me past this great chamber of damp sewage sweat." He stretched his arms out.

  Finnian dug out the pouch and tossed it to Mal who caught it effortlessly. Not speaking a word, she disappeared around a corner. After a few seconds the sounds of her walking disappeared.

  Finnian sat down beside Rolan who still looked somewhere between disappointed and pleased at his proven expectations.

  "What jolly adventures did the two of you go on this time I wonder." He said in a voice that couldn't have been more sarcastic if he'd tried.

  "We nicked a few things from a shop basement on the way here. Sorry mate, the unattended open window just looked too alluring to pass on."

  "And what were the finds?"

  "A box of smokes."

  Rolan's eyebrows rose and he whistled. "Nevermind me, good find. Where's the box if I might ask?"

  "Malorie has it. Don't think I could pry it out of her hands while keeping mine attached."

  "Good point."

  Rolan stretched his arms behind his back and groaned.

  "So then, what'll be our first target?"

  Finnian blinked. "What do you mean?"

  "Well," Rolan put his left leg on-top of his right. "Since this entire thing was your idea, you are the one who'll be deciding what exactly we'll be hitting first. So I just thought I'd ask, what's the target."

  "The truth is that I'd not really come that far." Finnian began, "It just seemed like a waste to pack up and leave the city."

  Rolan glared unblinkingly.

  "But I might have some ideas." Finnian put up his hands in defense. "When's that newspaper issue being publizised."

  "Tonight."

  Finnian leaned forward, quickly plunged into thought. While the power-up milly was about to receive would allow them to pick a more risky target, they still had little actual grasp of what a threading entailed. So the best choice of action would be to just target something they could already do, but make it easier and quicker with the upgrade.

  "What does the printery hold in store for us? Anything useful we can pawn off there?"

  "With the Conclave out of the city there'll be nobody buying mechanical parts at market value." Rolan shook his head. "Not worth it unless you plan to use Milly to drag a whole machine out of there and sell it for scraps at a pawn shop."

  "What about a Gemdust Distillery?"

  "Too many guards now."

  Finnian snapped his finger and with a grin proposed. "Do you remember that one business woman's home above the Market district Silk shops? Name's Tamyra I think, Lady Tamyra. We sold that dust to her husband."

  Rolan nodded. "Works in the trading and transport business. Owns a great many shares in the Skor Metalware company, I know of her."

  "With patrols and weavers relocated to guard expensive supplies and wealthy tourists and visitors, I think that her home might be a geode of opportunity."

  Finnian watched Rolan looking down into his empty palms. A sign that ideas were filling and leaving his head as quickly as a drunkards mug.

  "...Since her house is connected to the Silk shop, if we could gain access to that building we should be able to circumvent any traps laid on the roof or windows."

  "And with the guards moved down below to protect the actual storage instead of the shop, the last people to check inside of the shop itself will be the ones who close it." Finnian continued Rolan's train of thought.

  "All we would need to do is get through the front door and anything inside of her home will be easy grabs!" Rolan's face burst into a joyous smile. "I never doubted you for a second Dolus!" He threw his arms around Finnian and they both laughed.

  Their jubilations were cut short by a pair of firm clapping hands. They both looked to the corner where Malorie had now reappeared and clapped her hands sardonically. "Bravo you two. Come along, Milly's excited to show you her new arm."

  They followed Malorie through two different corridors before they reached what looked to be an operating room except far more unsanitary. Milly sat straight on a cushioned bed and smiled when they entered. "Finally, check out my new arm!"

  She wasted no time and shook off the cover to reveal shining lengthy strands of bronze-like shining wires running throughout her arm up to her shoulder.

  "Wicked!" Rolan beamed. And in the corner of his eye, Finnian saw Malorie's deadpanned face curl into a smile.

  Finnian smiled back then noticed in the corner of his eye a small hunched over figure at a desk. The Lady Seamstress was almost a corpse, maybe she was dead and didn't know it yet.

  "This is Matila!" Milly threw her arm out to her. "And she is the most wonderful old lady you'll ever meet."

  Matila strained to smile but smile she did. "I'll need to borrow your companions for a moment dear Milly." She said, waving for the three standing to follow.

  Into another room they went. The door slammed shut behind them on its own. Matila let out a long restrained breath of air in the musky yellow-lit cavern.

  "Is everything alright?" Malorie asked in a soothing and concerned voice unlike her. She kneeled before the older woman.

  "Yes, yes. I'm fine dear. Don't worry." She said unconvincingly. "Now I hate to ask you, but I do need what you promised me."

  Malorie reached into her inner cloak and pulled out a small bag and handed it to Matila. The seamstress opened it, look inside, jumbled the bag slightly, then tightened the straps again, seemingly satisfied. She walked over to a drawer and pulled out five vials.

  "Here." She handed them to Malorie. "These are heavily diluted tin serums based on opal."

  "We didn't pay—"

  "I don't care." Matila cut her off, clearly tired."I've already told Milly what a threading entails. But since you three seem to care about her a great lot, I need you to keep an eye on her and ensure she does nothing stupid."

  None of them spoke, so the seamstress walked over to a chair and sat down. "Now listen up."

  Malore stood back up.

  What I have given her is an imperfect right arm copper threading. Without drinking a vial, this will already ensure that her arm will almost never get tired again. Along with that it'll drastically increase her base strength and reflexes."

  They all nodded

  "This is something that you will need to practice with her. With lack of experience in wielding her newfound strength, she will undoubtedly break many things in her excitement. There's a good spot in the sewer funnels down in the Bowels where she'll be able to practice undisturbed. Just take the excrement pipes until you reach the abandoned drainage. The Collapse caused the tunnels to collapse on themselves, and the city's not seen them fit enough to repair since. Abandoned save for when teens want to host their hidden dust parties with friends."

  "I know of the place." Rolan said.

  "Good. Now, this is important." Matila leaned forward. "Do not let her carry the vials on her own. To an undiciplined person, Mana is just as addicting as regular Dust. As a threaded, it's practically what'll make her feel alive. When she drinks it she'll go from being able to crush a small pipe in her hand to tear someones head off without thinking. This stuff is for special occassions when it's needed. It'll last in her veins for about an hour if she drinks a full vial, make sure to practice with it as well. If she drinks anything copper graded or above, any weaver within a two mile range will be able to sense it. Even with diluted ones you can't be sure."

  She padded her forehead with her sleeve. "That is all."

  "Thank you Miss." Malorie kneeled before her again and kissed her hand. The old lady smiled with aged warmth.

  When they returned to the main chamber Milly was ecstatic. There was nothing more to do for Milly, so the Seamstress took them to yet another corridor which lead to a set of ladders.

  "This will take you to the harbor. Make sure to check before for anyone before you exit."

  Milly walked up to the lady and captured her in a wordless hug. After it ended, Matila made to retreat back into her burrow, but before she disappeared said. “I advise against going to the drain site tonight. High chance there’ll be heavy rain.”

  “How can you tell? Skies were clear yesterday, not a cloud in sight.” Finnian blurted before thinking, earning him a side-eye glare from Malorie.

  Matila turned unbothered and answered. “How can you tell when a plant is ripe or the sick is about to claim another victim? Some things we think impossible to predict become surprisingly trivial with time and experience.”

  Her somewhat ominous words left them in thought as she disappeared into her sanctuary.

  "Milly, you go first." Rolan gestured to the ladder.

  Milly scoffed.

  "Just because I lost an arm don't mean I forgot how to climb ladders." She said as she begrudgingly took hold of the rung.

  She tightened her grip around the bar, and with her first attempted heave tore the rusty rung right off the wall. Concrete included.

  "But that's new."