The Blunt Reaper

Rook and Mara waited beside the gate while the inspection continued around them.

Several Reapers were allowed into the Forty-Second without difficulty. Others were questioned, searched or directed toward the smaller doors built into the surrounding wall. Ordinary souls passed through a separate line, each inspected for signs of corruption before being permitted inside.

The bright light covering the Bastion made every movement easy to see. Rook appeared to dislike that almost as much as he disliked waiting.

He leaned against the wall with the coffin resting behind one shoulder. Mara stood beside him, watching the guards change positions around the inspection stations. More than one glanced toward Rook before immediately finding something else to occupy their attention.

"You seem popular here," she said.

"They remember me fondly."

"The guard refused to let you inside."

"He remembered me more fondly than most."

Mara looked through the gate. "How long do you think this will take?"

"Depends how far away Elara is."

A woman’s voice answered from behind them.

"Not far enough."

Rook closed his eyes.

"Tsk, shit..."

Mara turned.

The Vice Manager of the Forty-Second Bastion approached through the gate with four officers following behind her. She wore a long white coat fastened tightly across her chest, its sleeves reinforced beneath the fabric and marked near the shoulders by several dark bands. A sword hung at one hip, while the opposite side carried a cluster of metal seals attached to short chains.

Her dark hair had been pulled back tightly enough that not a strand moved as she walked. Everything about her appeared ordered, from the polished boots to the gloves covering both hands. Even the officers behind her maintained a more disciplined pace than the guards around the gate.

Elara stopped before Rook.

Her attention moved across his torn coat, the blood drying upon his clothing and the damaged coffin secured to his back. Then she looked toward the gate guard who had summoned her.

"You let him reach the inspection station?"

"He has a contract," the guard said.

Elara’s eyes shifted to Mara.

The pale chain between her and Rook was no longer visible, but Elara studied the space between them as though she could still sense it.

"You asked him for protection?"

Mara nodded. "Before anyone warned me."

"That is usually how it happens."

Rook opened his eyes. "Good to see you too."

Elara ignored him and addressed the guard. "Let them through."

The man hesitated. "Both of them?"

"Unless you expect his contract to permit us to separate them."

"I expected you to throw him back down the cliff."

"So did I," Rook admitted.

Elara looked at him. "The lifts are expensive, and you have already caused enough structural damage within this Bastion."

"That happened once."

"Three times."

"The second barely counted."

"You collapsed part of the western wall."

"It was already damaged."

"You were the source of the damage."

"That doesn’t make me responsible for poor construction."

Mara covered her mouth.

Rook glanced toward her. "What?"

"Nothing."

The effort lasted only a few seconds. A laugh escaped through her fingers, and once it began, she was unable to stop it. The strained silence of the crossing, the creatures beneath the sea and the pain lingering inside her chest had left her with little reason to laugh for what felt like days. Watching an entire Bastion treat Rook as a natural disaster proved enough to break through all of it.

Elara waited until Mara had regained control. "You find him amusing."

"Occasionally."

"You’ll recover."

"People keep telling me that."

Rook pushed himself away from the wall. "If you’re allowing us inside, I assume you want something."

Elara turned toward the gate. "Follow me."

Rook remained where he was. "Why?"

"Because the Manager is missing."

"You managed to lose him without my help. I’m sure you can find him the same way."

Elara looked back. "I need you."

Rook stared at her.

Mara’s laughter threatened to return.

The statement appeared to offend Rook more deeply than the refusal at the gate. He studied Elara’s expression, perhaps searching for mockery, but found none.

"You need me," he repeated.

"Try not to enjoy hearing it. The experience is unlikely to happen again."

"I wasn’t enjoying it. I was trying to understand how badly things must have gone."

"Walk, and I’ll explain."

Elara led them through the gate.

The Forty-Second Bastion opened beyond the fortified inspection district. Broad roads crossed between white stone buildings, many rising several stories above the surrounding walls. The light Mara had seen from the shore appeared to come from veins running through the stone itself. They shone beneath the roads, along the walls and around the foundations of every major structure.

For the first time since arriving in the Underworld, Mara could see farther than a lantern allowed.

The Bastion extended across the clifftop and into the surrounding land. Fields of pale grass grew between defensive walls. Workshops remained open along the main roads, while peddlers arranged their goods beneath cloth awnings that served no purpose without a sun. Souls moved openly through the streets without carrying lanterns or glancing toward every patch of darkness.

Mara unhooked the blue lantern from her wrist and placed it inside her coat.

Rook noticed. "Keep it somewhere you can reach."

"There isn’t any darkness here."

"There will be."

"You said that at the port."

"And the Bastion has not become safer since then."

Elara continued ahead. "He’s right."

Mara looked toward her. "You agreed with him."

"I’m capable of separating dislike from accuracy."

"That must be exhausting."

"It is whenever he visits."

They passed the central road and turned toward a fortified section near the inner wall. The buildings there had fewer windows, thicker doors and guards positioned at every entrance. Elara approached one of the newest structures, a squat three-storey building reinforced by bands of dark metal sunk deep into the white stone.

Rook slowed.

He examined the heavy foundation, the narrow windows and the metal braces supporting the corners.

"Which office?" he asked.

Elara pointed toward the reinforced building.

"That one?"

"My new office."

Rook looked back toward the center of the Bastion. "What happened to the old one?"

"You."

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