Jeran’s eyes follow the retreating figures. “That was General Caitoman Tyrus,” he whispers back. “The Premier’s younger brother.” He glances at me in sorrow, his voice hollow. “He told Constantine to stop harassing the survivors from his conquests.”
His conquest: Basea. A cold rage churns in my stomach. I tell myself to calm down, that we are here to take all of this down from within.
Adena leans close to me, her head still bowed. “Constantine said the Ghosts will be out for the national fair,” she whispers. “That means they’ll open the lab gates to take them outside.”
Her words cut through my fog of emotions like a beam of light.
I look quickly at her. She’s right. The Premier himself had said it, as casually as if it were common knowledge. Whatever this national fair is, it sounds like their Ghosts will emerge for the public to see.
Which means tomorrow is our chance to get into the Federation’s labs.
25
The commotion begins early the next morning, when the sky is still sleet gray.
Shouts from a guard on the streets stir me out of an uneasy sleep. Then comes the steady pull from Red somewhere in the near distance. I lie still for a moment, trying to remember where we are—wedged underneath an awning in a narrow alley between an apartment complex and a store selling soaps and cigars, where others in the city too poor to rent a room for the night have also camped. There are dozens of others here too, living in makeshift tents or simply sheets propped up with poles. The smell of unwashed winter bodies hangs musty in the air.
I concentrate for a moment on Red’s emotions. He seems groggy this morning, as if his mind were swimming in a fog. Have they injected him with some sleeping drug?
Adena groans as she stretches out her back. “I dreamed about my bed back in our Striker quarters,” she complains in a whisper so that others don’t overhear her speaking Maran. “And I never dream about that bed.”
“At least it was a warm night,” Jeran whispers in return.
I just shrug. For me, who’s used to life in the Outer City, this almost feels like a slice of home. As I look on from under our awning, a line of these people is already snaking out the alley to crowd outside the factory entrances near the river, where they seem to be hoping for work.
A low hum of activity buzzes in the streets. Adena scoots over to the edge of the alley to peek out at the bridges. Sure enough, packs of people are already starting to head across toward the colorful tents, their voices alert and excited. Young workers are sprinkling a mixture of flower petals and squares of crinkled, colored paper along the road.
We share some of the last of our cooked yams and flatbread between us for a meager breakfast, and then dust ourselves off as best we can and head out of the alley into the street. As we go, Red’s mind hums through our link, pulsing weaker and then stronger whenever we veer near the river. It’s easy to get lost in the throngs across the bridge, and as the morning wears on, the space only becomes busier. The national fair seems to be held in a circular series of plazas all connected to one another with walking paths, a collection of green open spaces surrounded by Cardinia’s government halls. As we go, we start to pass some of the colorful tents, each growing in size the farther in we get.
“This is a fair displaying their latest inventions,” Adena murmurs into my ear as we stop before one of the tents. She nods at the display, her eyes bright. “Look.”
Under this tent, they’re demonstrating the glass bulbs that contain the flameless light we’d seen the day before. A woman cranks a lever connected by wire to one such glass bulb, and as she does, we see the bulb glow bright. People clap as the woman gives them all a brilliant smile.
At another tent, a man lifts an enormous metal plate imprinted with what looks like thousands of letters against steel, then presses it down against a sheet of paper to produce a large print of the embedded words. He then steps away as the machine works on its own, printing multiple copies of the same print over and over. Over the noise of applause, he hands out some of the printed pages to young children