The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,136

and Grudge slipped from corner to corner, covering the angles, each supporting the other. Frey had to admire the seamless way they worked together.

They spotted a group of blue-uniformed mercs ahead, who came sallying out of a side street. They raised their weapons at the sight of the rag-tag group coming their way, but lowered them again as they identified Bree and Grudge. The Knights and their companions were left to pass unhindered.

Now that the distant gunfire had stopped, silence returned to Endurance. The only sound was their boots whispering through the snow, and the clank of Grudge's body armour. Frey found it all a bit eerie.

'Where is everybody?' he said.

'That's what worries me,' said Samandra. 'Most of the town disappeared when the trouble began, before we got here. There are little roaming groups fighting skirmishes with the mercs; as to the rest, we ain't got half an idea where they are. But you can be sure they're about somewhere. Probably been rounded up by the Underground, getting ready to make their move.'

'The Underground?'

Samandra indicated a sign daubed in red paint on a nearby wall. An underlined U. Frey had noticed several others on their way, but hadn't thought much of them. 'The Underground. Bunch of militants who say they fight for worker's rights, votes for all freemen, that kind of thing. They've been stirring the locals up good. This place was a powderkeg. Only a matter of time before something set 'em off.'

'So whose side are you on?'

'The Archduke's,' she said. 'Like always.' She peered round a corner and waved them on. 'Look, I ain't happy about it. I know how they treat the miners in these parts. I'd rather Roke and his lot were shot. But we're Century Knights. We keep the Archduke's peace. And we can't have businessmen getting offed every time the workers get a bit shirty.'

'Gradmuth Operations must pay a lot of tax, right?'

'That, and they fuel half the Navy.'

'They scratch the Archduke's back, he scratches theirs,' said Frey scornfully. 'And the common man gets screwed.'

'Hey, it's the way of the world,' said Samandra, a harsh edge creeping into her voice. 'You ain't so lily-white yourself, pirate.'

By now, the refinery was visible above the buildings, and the mercenary presence was heavier. They passed a long barricade that had been constructed in the centre of a square, and Frey spotted blue-uniformed men squatting on the rooftops. Eventually they came to the refinery gates, which were set in a high wall and guarded by a dozen men. Frey was finding it hard to see how the miners could possibly be a threat. A ground assault on this place would be suicidal.

The guards let them through, and they crossed a flagged courtyard towards a small metal door in the side of the refinery. The building loomed overhead, massive pipes scoring lines across the grey sky. Samandra held the door open and let the others past. Frey waited with her.

'Can I ask a question?'

'Other than that one?' she replied.

'Why are you looking for Grist?'

Samandra tipped back the brim of her tricorn hat. 'Rumour has it he's made off with a Mane artefact of unknown power.'

'Rumour has it, eh? Where'd you hear that?'

'From your daemonist,' she grinned. 'He's quite a chatty sort when he's drunk.'

Frey groaned. The soiree in Lapin that Amalicia had taken them to. He knew he shouldn't have left Crake alone for so long with Samandra.

'But Grist didn't have it then,' he said. 'The Awakeners did.'

'Yes, he did say the Awakeners had stolen it from you,' she said. 'But when our spies heard the Awakeners recently had a craft downed in the Flashpan, we sort of put two and two together. And when we heard you were looking for Grist all over the North, well . . .'

'Poor old Crake,' said Frey. 'He never stood a chance. Not above using your feminine charms in service of the cause, eh?'

She gave a derisive rasp. 'Me? There ain't much I'm above, when it comes to it. Anyway, he's a sweet feller. The pleasure was all mine. Where is he, anyway?'

'He's gone.'

'Shame. I kinda liked him.'

'Me, too.'

They went inside the refinery. Grudge led them up stone stairways and along tight corridors with smooth walls painted grey-green. It seemed colder in here than outside, and the electric lights did little more than provide contrast for the shadows. Frey guessed they were taking a back way to their destination.

That destination turned out to be a collection of offices and filing rooms, several