The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(59)
“Then it will be long enough for you to arrive at your own opinions on these matters.”
Florence heard the finality in the statement and rested her head on the glass of the window. The strip mine was now out of view, but she kept her eyes forward as the train swayed in determined progression to the home of the Harvesters. More and more mines dotted the surface of the land as they neared Faroe. Deeper and wider they ran, until the train traversed suspended bridge-ways that spanned a mine directly below them.
She stared over the ominous edge, keenly aware of the thin pieces of steel that separated the train from the seemingly infinite oblivion stretched deep into the earth below. Men and women worked on spiraling walkways on the outer edges of the mine, so far below her that they looked like flicks of dust floating in the mine’s smoky haze rather than actual people. So, so far below that the explosions they set off were nothing more than flashes of light and dull reverberations.
It was as if the Harvesters had peeled back the surface of the earth to find its soul. And its soul was the very lifeblood of Loom: iron, minerals, oil, and coal.
Faroe was perched in the center of these seemingly endless mines, like an island among an empty sea. Its towering buildings and compact construction was unlike anything Florence had ever seen. Buildings made of concrete had spires of brick built atop them, foundations made from the carved stone left from long-ago mining. Like an impenetrable wall, it was all connected. One city, one guild, every peca of space used. She wondered if Arianna had ever been to Faroe, and if so, what the Rivet’s take on the architectural choices were.
The train ran into a station underneath the city. Powell, in his kindness, offered to escort them to the guild hall. Florence was thankful they accepted when he led them through a rat maze of tunnels and tiny elevators that served as the city’s only means of getting around.
“Faroe built up when it could no longer build out,” Powell explained. “The problem with situating itself at the world’s richest mineral deposits meant that most of the land needed to be committed to mining. The Rivets tried to make sense of it, but the Harvesters ended up doing what we do best.” He knocked on the rough, bare stone wall next to him. Pick marks still pocked its surface. “We tunneled our way through.”
Within the city proper, Florence felt an omnipresent weight. Rock and steel, brick and concrete hovered over her. It compressed Florence’s lungs, and she was suddenly reminded of the last time she’d felt such a sensation.
“The Underground,” Florence said boldly. It was a taboo subject in Ter.4, and, judging by the rise of Powell’s eyebrows, it was known as such in Ter.1 as well. “Did Harvesters help with that at all?”
Powell considered it a long moment, encouraging in that he didn’t immediately refuse the subject. “At the time the Underground was first being conceived, perhaps. We did grant them some of our explosives long ago, pre-Revolvers even, to help blast deeper after the ground was broken. But the limestone of Ter.4 is prone to pockets and holes, and the Ravens seemed impatient and determined to make the place their own. Moreso after the Dragons’ regulations on the guilds.”
The man’s tone differed from Ari’s at the mere mention of the Dragons. There was no bitter bite, no longing for the past. Instead she heard quiet acceptance. His eyes reflected... appreciation?
The weight was lifted as they ascended to the guild proper. A disk shape at the very top of Faroe, the hall’s outer walls were all windows, permitting the gray sunlight and a view of the barren earth beyond. Florence set her bag down slowly, her hand numb from carrying it. As if in a trance, she crossed to the nearest pane of glass. Five times her width, three times her height, it felt as if the view could swallow her whole.
With the flatness of the land she could see for veca upon veca. She saw the dusty clouds that plumed off the ground between the mines. She saw the far explosions that broke into the earth farther and deeper. The mines she’d seen from the train had only been a small part of a much, much larger system.
“What do you think?” Powell asked.
Florence jumped, startled. She hadn’t heard the man approach. Pulled from her trance, she immediately sought out Derek and Nora, but they were nowhere to be found.
“They had business on behalf of the Vicar Alchemist for the Vicar Harvester. I saw that they spoke with the right people to get them where they were going.”
“Thank you,” Florence said sincerely. “You’ve been quite kind to us.”
“You are guests in my home.” Powell smiled in reply. “Ter.1 may not be what it once was, but it is still home and I will still love it and see it is shown in the best light.”
“You said that before,” she noted. “That it’s not what it was.”
He nodded, but offered no more explanation this time than he had the last.
“Do you mean before the Dragons?” she pressed.
“I do.”
She followed Powell’s stare, looking out at the land. “What was better, then? How has it changed?”
Powell shook his head and chuckled. “The Dragons changed a lot, overseen directly by the King.” Again, unlike Ari, there was no bite at the mention of their oppressors. “Not much was better in my lifetime. We’ve been on this suicidal path for hundreds of years. If they hadn’t come when they did, Loom would be in a difficult spot now.”