Warsinger by James Baldwin (most important books of all time txt) 📕

“Yeah.” She pointed down the alleys. “All the streets on this layer of the city eventually connect to a pylon bridge. There's stairwells next to every pylon, with a maintenance gate for when workers have to go down to the undercity to fix shit.”

I brought up my Map screen. Maps in Archemi automatically updated when you reached a new location, giving a rough GPS overview of the area and filling in details as you explored and identified locations. Because of the way Dalim was constructed, the map currently showed us the Dappled City level. I could flick between tabs to see the Cloud City map and the Undercity map, but the Undercity was currently just a greyish field of undefined dwellings.

“Look sharp, dog!” Vash threw something at me as he and Karalti bounced back over with arms full of pani-puri, fried bread filled with spiced potatoes, cheese, and spinach. I snatched it out of the air without looking over my shoulder, and he cackled.

“We got some for you too, Suri.” Karalti had already almost finished her first one. “It's good! Spicy!”

“Cheers.” Suri folded the food into her Inventory and patted Karalti on the head as the dragon stuffed her second pani-puri into her face. “Ready?”

Vash bowed and gave a little flourish toward the shaded entry of the street across from us, and Suri led the way.

A hush fell over us as we wove into the city proper. Unlike Taltos and Karhad, Dalim was very flat and completely paved. The streets were very narrow, and people lived almost exclusively in beautiful courthouse compounds ringed by small apartments. Ornate metalwork and carvings were everywhere. The adobe buildings were only washed white on the roofs: many of them were painted a brilliant ultramarine blue, while others were covered in glittering glass mosaics. It was like some blend of pre-War India and Final Fantasy’s Midgar, with less technology and more magic, but the same amount of totalitarian bullshit.

It got quieter, darker, and danker the closer we got to the pylon. The buildings in this area weren't as colorful, and the courtyards were shabby, with dry fountains and spiked iron fences. Teenagers sitting on stoops regarded us suspiciously as we drew up on the enormous monolith, a steel-reinforced Roman concrete pillar set on an angle into a gloomy dark pit. Sure enough, there was a gated stairwell leading down.

“It'll be locked, but that never stopped anyone before,” Suri said. “Expect trouble at the bottom.”

“Trouble?” I pulled the Spear from my Inventory, spun it around like a marching baton, and then slung the carry cord over my shoulder and hung onto it.

“The Undercity is run by gangs and syndicates, including my old faction, the Rose Knives.” Suri went over to the gate and tested the handle. “Just because Fireblooded aren't allowed up here doesn't mean we don't come. There's money to be made doing jobs around the city, so the gangs let people go up for free, but charge them a commission on the way down for using 'their' stairs.”

Vash cracked his knuckles. “That's no good now, is it? For them, I mean.”

Suri looked back at him through the blackened visor of her helmet. “Don't start anything with the gangs if you don't have to, Vash. As soon as we're in Rose Knives territory, we're golden, but there's an ecosystem of sorts down here... if you kill or embarrass some little fish trying to shake you down for a couple of Dinar, the sharks'll be sniffing along right behind them. None of us are bad enough bastards to deal with the Slum Queens - not yet, at least.”

Chapter 36

The stairs to the Undercity were the worst part of the trip. Suri was right - there were a couple of Fireblooded toughs waiting at the bottom for us. They asked for three silver Dinars, and Suri was able to use her street cred here to get it down to two. Then we were on our way, slogging along a muddy dirt path through a cramped, dark town that reminded me of a giant subway tunnel, complete with rats, piles of trash, and the ammonia reek of old piss. Houses were built out of anything and everything: some of them were solid stone and looked like they had been here for a very long time, while others had been built from mud and straw or just trash. People slept in pipes, on the ground, and in doorways. The sun didn't reach down here, but it was hotter than the surface.

“Can't say I missed this shithole.” Suri had her helmet off now, but had kept the armor on. It seemed like every other person down here had the same tall, powerful build, red hair and golden eyes that she did. “We're in Dhul Fiquar territory now. When we reach the Tiger's Den, let me handle things, alright? If you feel like decking someone, don't just start swinging. Challenge them to a fight in the ring and make some money out of it, at least.”

Vash, who had set up his pipe and was smoking as he walked, grunted in agreement.

“Any idea why your quest marker would be pointing there?” I rolled my shoulders, keeping an eye on everything I could. People were openly watching us as we passed by, and my bouncer senses were tingling.

“There's an appraiser that works out of the back of the tavern,” Suri replied. “Guy by name of Aksil. My bet is that he knows something about that fancy necklace of yours.”

The Tiger's Den was in the 'nice' part of the Undercity: nice relative to the outlying quarters. Like the portside avenue, the streets around this area were loud and busy, but it was less like the cheerful bustle of a street market and more like the knife-edge balance of fun and tension you found outside a seedy nightclub. People played games of shells and dominos, danced for tips, begged, and sold luke-warm fried skewers of mysterious meat out of