“Traitors of the Guild we would have executed anyway,” said Farris dryly. “Two beadhbhs, one boulder, as they say. Now the king thinks the Guild has been dismantled, and I’ve gained some valuable work experience in the Crown’s spy network.”

“The Silverback would do well to have you back by his side,” muttered Jacob. “Things have really been going to shit lately.”

They sailed on in silence, eastwards towards a horizon invisible in the dark. Farris wore a spare black cloak Jacob happened to have at hand, which he became more and more grateful for as the cold night went on. After a few hours, Jacob adjusted the sail and the skiff changed its course, curving northwards, then westwards, back towards the shores of Alabach.

“We need to give Moray’s Head a wide berth,” said Jacob. “We could have made the journey in half the time if we hugged the coast, but with the Crown’s battlemages patrolling these lands now, we can’t take any chances.”

Farris didn’t immediately realise that the darkness was beginning to fade. It was only when he could partially see his hands again that it was apparent that morning was approaching.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Jacob, apparently aware of Farris’s concern. “We’ll be docking deep in Heretic’s Bay soon. There’s a path through the Steel Mountains that’ll take us around the Rustlake into Penance. We’re past the worst of it, trust me.”

“We’re not taking the canal?” asked Farris.

“Ha!” laughed Jacob. “Of course not. The main trade route is far too risky for smuggling, even with the city locked down. We’ll be making most of this journey by foot.”

“Of course.” Farris’s voice quivered slightly. “And how confident are you we won’t be seen?”

Jacob eyed him. “Farris Silvertongue! Are you frightened? Skies above and below! That’s one for the history books.

He doesn’t know the half of it. Nobody does.

Farris had first fallen victim to what he called ‘the fear’ when he began his work with the Crown. Only when The Glory of Penance had crashed into the Glenn, did he really feel that it had left him. But now, away from the bears and the beadhbhs and the trolls of the Glenn, the anxiety had begun creeping back. Wild carnivorous animals were less terrifying to him than kings and politicians.

Neither of the Simians spoke as the skiff approached the Steel Mountains. Farris was more sceptical of Jacob’s talent than he let on, but when the broken remains of Sin came into view far above those shimmering peaks in the waxing morning light, it was clear that the smuggler was a master of his craft. The vessel had been expertly steered through a very long course, with few stars or landmarks to guide the way.

“Is it as lovely as you remember?” asked Jacob.

“No. It’s far better.”

He meant it. There, a few dozen miles away, was the remains of the Tower of Sin, jutting out from the mountains. Legend had it that the tower had once pierced the sky, built by heathen Simians that wished to usurp the Gods themselves. But when the tower reached a height greater than the sacred Mount Selyth to the south, Lord Seletoth appeared before the Simian builders and cursed their deeds. He tore the tower from the sky, and left its ruins for all to see, as a reminder of the greatest Sin of the Simian people. He then banished every Simian in Alabach to live in the tower’s foundations, claiming that to be their Penance.

Even at only a fraction of the height it had once been, the remains of Sin were still a wonderous sight to behold. Amongst the uneven edges of the mountains, the tower shot straight upwards like an iron shaft. Only the peak showed any sign of ruin, with a gaping hole now taking the place where the rest of the structure once stood.

“There’s a cave not ten minutes away,” said Jacob. “That’ll take us towards the city unseen.”

“Yes,” said Farris, barely hearing Jacob’s words. The rising sun had finally burst over the mountains. The skiff continued onwards, towards the long shadows cast by the mountains.

Once they reached the jagged cliffs of Penance, Jacob began deftly dismantling the sail. Farris watched with interest as the smuggler went to work, folding the sailcloth until it was small enough to fit into a coat pocket, and taking the mast apart until he was left with two short poles identical in length. It was only when Jacob handed one to Farris that he noticed that they were actually oars.

“The current will pull us through,” said Jacob. “Just use these to keep the rocks away from my boat.”

The skiff rocked gently under their feet as they navigated towards the cliffs. Jacob peered forward through squinting eyes, as if searching for something.

“Are we docking anywhere near here?” ventured Farris. Dwarfed by the sheer scale of the mountains, it seemed reasonable to question if they were going the right way. Jacob remained silent, however, re-enforcing his proficiency a master smuggler.

As if the cliffs themselves had listened, a yawning cave appeared ahead of them. Amidst white waves of foam crashing against the walls, the skiff drifted towards the opening. Jacob changed his grip on the oar, now forcing it straight down under the water, pushing the boat onwards by pressing against the rocks beneath the surface.

“I’ll take it from here,” said Jacob, right as Farris was about to do the same. The smuggler navigated the ship through the cave with precision and agility as if he had full control of every inch of the hull. In the dim light, the damp cave walls glistened with moisture, dripping with wet mud and sand. Farris ducked his head as the ceiling dipped lower. It was only then that he noticed Jacob lying flat and forward on the skiff.

“It’s usually tighter than this on a high tide,” he whispered back. “Be grateful that we don’t have a greater load.”

“A greater load? Surely I’m the most valuable cargo you’ve smuggled into Penance.”

“You’ve obviously never sold white crystals on the black market.” Jacob let out a roaring laugh that caused the boat to quiver. “If they were worth their weight in gold, I’d be selling them at loss.”

The cave’s walls widened to reveal a tiny grotto with sharp stalactites hanging low from the ceiling. Jacob manoeuvred the skiff against one of the cave walls, gesturing to a ledge slightly overhead.

“We’ll climb up and carry on through the cave,” he said, producing a length of rope from the side of the skiff. He reached out and found an iron ring against the rock without looking. He quickly looped the rope though it, punctuating each pull with an abrupt knot. When he was satisfied, he stood and hoisted himself upwards onto the ledge.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked. “It’s probably been a while since you did any second-story work.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Farris, stubbornly. He rapidly scaled the wall up toward Jacob, displaying less effort than he gave.

“I’ll lead the way then.” Jacob ignored Farris’s exasperated breaths. “It’s not far to the Rustlake.”

Farris followed for some time through those winding caves, hoping each corned they took would reveal the full splendour of the City of Steam, but to his disappointment, each turn led to more dark, meandering tunnels.

Just as he was about to complain, however, the cave levelled out and formed a straight path. Up ahead, the cave opened to an entrance. Morning had fully broke, and Farris heard the faint sounds of wildlife up ahead. The last time he had emerged from a cave like this, he had been chased by a mountain troll. Now, with his old ally, returning to the city he so dearly missed, was certainly an improvement.

“Here we are,” said Jacob. “The walk around the Rustlake is lovely this time of the morning.”

Farris emerged from the cave immediately after Jacob, and welcomed the fresh air, blended with the faint scent of soot. Across the lake, the city of Penance was in full view: huge buildings and spires peering over great stone walls, all surrounding remnants of Sin. The details of the broken tower were visible in the morning light now; Farris could even spot a few individual airships docked at its upper levels.

The sight was marred by a peculiar movement across the Rustlake. The lake itself was as still as the surrounding rocks, but there, on its north bank, a number of distant figures were moving towards them, with startling speed. Some moments later, their forms came into view.

“Jacob?” asked Farris, pointing to the north. “Are you sure we weren’t seen?”

The smuggler was tending to his equipment, folding a rope in loops around one hand. “Seen? No, of course not, I—”

The sound of hooves thundering on stone cut him off. Farris met Jacob’s eyes, and nodded towards the source: a group of elk cavalry came galloping along the lake, only close enough now for Farris to appreciate their speed, and to realise there was likely no use in fleeing.

“Quick,” said Farris. “Who else knows of this passage?”

“Nobody. Just me and the Silverback!”

“Perfect. Just leave everything to me.”

They stood still as the elk riders approached. Farris had figured they were likely scouting for the Triad, based on their lightly armoured bodies and steeds. If the Silverback’s bid to curry favour with the Triad was going according to plan, it was possible he informed them to monitor this passageway.

Over the course of several more seconds, Farris found the optimal line of questions and answers that would lead him straight to the Silverback if his previous assumptions were true. As the riders approached, one mounted Simian took the lead, slowing to a halt in front of Farris. The elk towered over the Simian, with two great antlers emerging from its hulking mass.

Its rider wielded a long halberd with an axe-head of green-tinted steel. He pointed it at Farris, then spoke. “The city is closed for trading and travel at this time. State your business.”

Once Farris heard the rider’s voice, all his alibis and answers vanished.

“Come now, Garth,” he said, reaching out to push the weapon aside. “That’s no way to be speaking to me. What would Mother think?”

Chapter 5: