Madelon refused to rise when the next morning came. She curled up beneath a blanket and seemed to alternate between crying and silence. Rue watched from a distance as Viru sat beside her, murmuring soft words and doing her best to encourage the woman to drink, to eat, to rise. Nassen went over a few times to do the same and to speak with Viru. Neither seemed surprised, though both seemed stressed. Eventually, Rue asked Nassen about it.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  Nassen had just brewed a pot of tea - the top of the furnace was modified to let things sit upon it, where it would heat anything up with imperfect efficiency - and passed Rue a cup after having delivered some to Viru. He smiled. Rue noted it was one of a tired sadness.

  “Madelon gets sick, sometimes.”

  “Sick? Like a flu?” Rue looked suspiciously towards Madelon.

  “No, not that. A healer told us that it’s closer to a sickness of the soul. It just gets too strained, and she becomes…Tired, and sad. Sometimes it lasts for a while, weeks. Sometimes it’s just for a few hours.” Rue had never heard of such a thing, but she believed Nassen. There was a familiarity of worry etched in his features that ran deep.

  “What can you do about it?” Rue asked. She blew on the tea and sipped. It tasted awful, but it was better than nothing.

  “We try to not leave her alone. Try to get her to eat and drink. Sometimes she gets strong enough to go outside, and that can help. I suspect the excitement of last night triggered this. She gets sick often after she gets stressed.”

  Rue frowned. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  Nassen quickly shook his head. “No, of course not. You couldn’t have known any of this. And it could have been anything, or…” He hesitated and shrugged. “...Nothing at all. Sometimes it really does seem like nothing. We just have to wait it out and hope that her soul feels better.”

  Rue thought about it for a while, intrigued by the idea of the soul sickness. Madelon kept crying and Viru kept right by her side. Eventually, Nassen told Rue that she would need to be ready for the job after sunfall, the eighth hour. That meant she had time to kill. And while he expressed that she was welcome to stick around the building, Rue was itching to get fresh air.

  The day was unproductive and frustrating. Rue wandered around this portion of the district, surprised at how many buildings did seem occupied despite their state. The streets were less busy than the main pathways of Snake’s Way, and there were no vendors nor stores in sight. The people here felt less approachable, but there was no sense of hostility. Rue disliked how well she fit in, drawing no second glances. After exploring, she traced her steps back in a casual stroll, trying to re-create the paths taken that evening. Eventually she did find herself back at Thaddeus’ home.

  The temple bells had sounded not long ago, but she couldn’t remember how many rang, and if it were late enough that he would be at the library already. As if to answer her thoughts immediately, the front door opened, and Rue urgently lurched for the nearest corner to hide behind. At least she had kept some distance this time. Thaddeus walked out, and Rue ducked fully out of view as she realized that he was scanning his surroundings. After a few moments she couldn’t resist the temptation to peek again. He had begun his walk, and she watched him disappear soon after.

  Rue began her wandering again. She explored for a while, testing new streets, and kept an eye out for the temples after Nassen’s comment that the only public temples were of Aukinok. Surely enough, there were temples of Aukinok littering the city and not a single other, though she sometimes saw sigils and statues of other worshipped gods decorating storefronts and homes.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze. Temptation brought her back to lurking by the library in the evening, anxious to fill the last few hours, and unable to tear her mind from the man within it. It wasn’t long until Thaddeus emerged. Rue wanted to watch closely, but even more wanted to go unnoticed. She trailed him onto the streets. This time, Thaddeus went to do his shopping at a grocer that wasn’t so busy despite being open so late. Many of the standard markets had closed by this time in the evening, apart from those selling hot foods and drinks.

  He took his time chatting with the grocer. Eventually, with a bag of goods, he turned and started his walk home. Rue followed him there, hanging far back this time as he went inside. Then he was out of view. Gone. Irritation prickled beneath Rue’s skin. She finally peeled away, and started the path back to the small building housing her new acquaintances.

  Rue had to knock on arrival, finding the door locked and realizing she had no key. It made sense that they wouldn’t trust her with a key, but it did take several rounds of knocking before Nassen opened it for her and ushered her into the complete darkness of the lower floor. Rue grumbled some complaints and shoved Nassen’s hand off when it attempted to help guide her to the stairway, opting to blindly find her way again, with urgency due to the pressing darkness.

  They came up to the second floor where Viru was still huddled by Madelon. Her eyes were closed, and they opened to silently regard the two stepping within. Madelon had done little more than roll over to lay on her other side. Nassen sat on the couch, and Rue took the same chair as last time.

  “It’s still early, but we can go over everything,” Nassen spoke. There was a somber drop to his voice that reminded Rue of how people spoke when someone had died, and they didn’t want to disturb the mourning.

  Viru stayed where she was, and she had evidently heard Nassen despite his quiet voice. “This the crypt job?”

  “It is.”

  “Crypt?” Rue asked.

  “There are underground portions of the city,” Nassen explained. “Many of them are burial crypts.”

  “What the fuck? Why aren’t there normal graveyards?” Rue’s frowned deepened, and she emphasized. “Ones just in the dirt?”

  Viru laughed, and Rue wasn’t sure if she imagined the thorns in the sound. Nassen chuckled and it at least sounded in good humor.

  “It’s probably just easier to maintain. There’s a royal graveyard. It’s guarded much better than the crypts, even if they bury royal family with enough riches to make it worth a risk. No, the sites you two are hitting will be much easier to navigate around. It should be during shift changeover, making the risk of any groundsmen out and about low.”

  “How do we know what graves to hit? …If they aren’t actually in graves, what are they in?”

  Nassen raised his brows. “Casks,” he answered simply. “And they have names displayed on each one. I have a list of names that are likely to contain family heirlooms or other valuable items.”

  Rue thought about it. The entire concept of these crypts were alien to her, on top of sounding far too easy. “If it’s so simple, who’s to say that someone else hasn’t already robbed ‘em?”

  Nassen and Viru looked at each other briefly.

  “Well…” Nassen hesitated. “I expected you to have protested already. It’s pretty taboo to rob the dead. If any of the others knew we were doing this, they’d be upset. I would understand if you didn’t want to be part of this.”

  “She agreed to help, so she will help,” Viru coldly interjected.

  “I’ll still help,” Rue quickly assured, tossing her a look. “I’ve got questions though.”

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  “Speak them,” Nassen urged.

  “Alright, so…First question. Why is it taboo?”

  “It is said that the dead haunt those who disturb them after death. Those who worship Death say so.”

  Rue scoffed. “I’ve robbed plenty of graves and ain’t haunted.”

  “You’ve robbed graves?” Viru asked.

  “Don’t sound so offended when you’re about to do it too,” Rue snapped back. “Yeah, I have. My second question is why you all decided to go robbing graves if it’s such a big deal.”

  “Ah,” Nassen hummed. This had perked some interest, and he looked as if he wanted to pry, but he retained focus on the current matter. “Then maybe there is some fortune in your being here. And that’s a good question. Times are tough, and we are bold.” The answer was supplied with a reassuring smile.

  Rue narrowed her eyes. “That’s all there is to it? Shit’s hard and you’re bold? I still ain’t convinced that no one else hasn’t just been doing this.”

  Nassen’s smile faded. He drummed his fingers along his thigh. “Hm. Well. You said that you’ve robbed graves before, so tell me, what was the local punishment for getting caught?”

  “Dunno, was never caught,” Rue shrugged. “But I’d think it would be the same as here, I guess I am from the kingdom of Whesirki, just not the city of Whesirki,” she explained. “So laws would be the same, yeah?”

  “I wasn’t sure how local you were. Madde,” he gestured to the unmoving Madelon, “came by ship from another continent years ago. Where did you come from?” He asked Rue, letting his focus stray just a bit now.

  “South,” Rue answered, unelaborative and unhelpful. She pushed the conversation forward, unwelcome to his stray question. “What’s the law here for grave robbing?”

  “A lesser offense is indentured servitude in the work camps beyond the wilderness,” Nassen said. Rue knew that the wilderness lay west of the kingdom, and was a vast, dangerous expanse of untamed land that divided the Whesirki Kingdom from the Xassough Empire. “The fullest offense is public execution. It was served so readily and swiftly that grave robbing has long been a thing of the past.”

  Rue grimaced. She rocked back on her seat, legs drawing to her chest to hug them tightly. “It’s the same in the south,” she murmured. “So that’s fine.”

  This certainly drew a curious look from both of those listening. “As long as you know the stakes,” Nassen finally said after a silence. “You should get ready. Do you have a change of clothes? Something dark, easy to move in?”

  Rue did not. She shook her head, though immediately reached to tug the orange scarf off. It was too warm in here for it anyway, but it was certainly the brightest thing she wore. Her overcoat was heavy and did not make for the most stealthy option if they were going to be working a job with such critical risk. Her clothing underneath it was white, though it had taken up dirt and gone several shades light-brown in the condition it was. She desperately needed new clothing.

  “Viru, can you lend Rue some clothes?” Nassen asked.

  “If I must,” the sarka muttered. “If she puts me at any risk, I am going to use her as bait to get away.”

  “You will work together,” Nassen gently corrected, or perhaps only advised.”

  Viru uttered a growl, but she finally left Madelon’ side. She supplied Rue with a set of clothing similar to her own, which was the same dark-gray clothing she wore the previous night. It was somewhat loose without having too much spare fabric to risk catching upon anything, without the thick padding of winter clothing.

  There wasn’t anywhere private apart from the dark room below. Nassen had offered her a lantern to bring down, but she declined and opted for the corner, where they respectfully looked away as she changed her clothing. Rue stripped everything apart from the thin layer of cloth over her miniscule chest and her undershorts, briefly pausing to look at her skin. It had gotten grimy again despite a bath several days ago. Normally, she didn’t mind, given the lack of regular bathing chances she had while at home. Now, it felt dirty.

  She slipped the new clothing on. It didn’t leave much to the imagination of Rue’s scrawny body, yet left her androgynous once her hair was obscured by the pull-over hood. Rue secured her hair in a messy bun to keep it from slipping out. She tucked the top into the band of the pants, and tied them to keep them from falling off of her hips. Viru didn’t look much bigger, but the clothing was still loose. Rue imagined the feline woman was filled out in the way of muscle.

  While dressing, Viru and Nassen spoke about the specific location and objective. He gave her a list of names, four of them, and possible items to look out for. Family jewelry and heirlooms were the main objective. They were no nobles, but they were rich enough families to be buried with items that could be life-changing for anyone who acquired them.

  Viru took the slip of paper, along with a draw bag that she stuck into a pocket for now. Nassen went to sit by Madelon as they departed, something that seemed to relax Viru. The two women departed together, the sun sunken and the air cold. They didn’t speak on the walk, which was more than fine with Rue. The streets grew thinly populated, more than they already were, until there was regularly no one and nothing of interest. Buildings became more rundown. The sky was cloudy, without any moonlight or starlight able to break through. The lit lanterns became even more sparse, practically rare, but it did not slow Viru. Rue recalled the sarka’s had strong night vision. She stuck closely behind her.

  They reached a metal plated cover on the ground, something Rue had seen in dozens upon dozens of places around the city. Viru crouched down, pulling out the piece of paper Nassen had given her. She scanned it and thumbed over a symbol on the page.

  Her hand went over the metal plate, and the soft glow of a rune amplified. She promptly drew the symbol over it, before prying the metal plate up like it weighed nothing.

  “Jump down,” she ordered Rue.

  “What is this?” Rue asked, perplexed, creeping to look down the plate. An ominous green light glowed beneath.

  “Jump,” Viru snapped, “before someone sees us.”

  Rue wanted to protest, but she knew Viru was right. With a tight chest, Rue sat down and scooted feet-first into the hole, which was rather conveniently just bigger than the size of an average human. She hit the ground with a grunt, surprised by the size of the drop, stumbling on impact. Viru followed after, landing with far more grace in a crouch.

  Standing up straight, Rue was surprised that she could do so without having to hunch over. They were in a tunnel now. It felt suffocatingly small with a dense smell of must and earthy, metallic wetness clinging to the air. It didn’t feel right to call it air, as stale as it felt in her lungs with every inhale. There were lights very alike the ones from her stay in jail, where she had met Captain Schiro, everything having been illuminated in an eerie green light. It was unnatural, and it made the underground space feel more hostile than it already was.

  “What is this?” Rue pressed Viru. There was a massive structure within the tunnel alongside them.

  The sarka scowled at Rue, dropped her hood down and head shaking, freeing her thin, long ears. “The waterline tunnels,” Viru said, pointing. Rue followed her attention. The tunnel was wide, half of it being taken up by metal cylinders, an entire stack of them starting from ground up, some spacing between each one. “This is how water is transported throughout the city. And the waste. See how they go up sometimes?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep. Pipes go up, water goes up, waste comes down.” Viru started to walk. Rue followed her, unable to stop staring at the pipes.

  “What? How does that work? Where does the water come from? Where does the waste go?”

  “Dunno, the lake, and dunno,” Viru answered all three. “It doesn’t matter. We need to focus.”

  It didn’t matter, Rue knew that, but there was a mix of frustration and amazement in how she was still finding new things that defied any ability to explain them. How did such things exist in a place like this, within her home kingdom, without being known about on the outer reaches? How did anyone devise such elaborate creations, like the lift, or these waterlines?

  I should ask Thaddeus about this.

  Her nose scrunched distastefully from the reflexive thought. Thaddeus would have been able to give her an answer that was far more detailed than she was capable of understanding, without hesitation, as if he had an endless reservoir for knowledge within his mind. Thinking of him was the last thing she wanted to do, but somehow, so many thoughts unwantingly brought her there.

  Viru broke the silence after several minutes of walking.

  “Here,” she said, stopping as they reached a break in the wall, waterlines branching into a new direction. These were all over the place, endless tunnels leading off in different directions, mostly uniform. This one was not uniform, and was the first one that seemed to run at a downwards slope. Rue hadn’t paid much attention to note if any of the others did. Her gaze had kept going up, following the lines that suddenly shot to the ceiling and disappeared into them, trying to envision the buildings they trailed into. Some lines were thinner, while others much larger. It was hard to tell in the sickly light, but they were different colors; sandy white, and a rusted red, she was certain.

  Viru turned into the tunnel that descended, and Rue followed.

  “I don’t like being underground,” Rue whined. “Why are we going deeper? How do you know this is even the right way?”

  “Because I do.”