A City Called Smoke: The Territory 2 by Justin Woolley Read Free Book Online Page B

during the Reckoning,” Melbourne answered. That was the truth. Of everyone in the Territory the Diggers should know what was out there and they had said the same thing, there was nothing.
    “No, they didn’t,” Captain Pratt said, his voice low. “We have seen dirigibles coming in from over the fence, Holy Order dirigibles. Too many to be just some rogue flight. Where do you think they come from?”
    Melbourne shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “Well,” Captain Pratt said, “neither do we, but we’re going to find out. Once we’ve taken our fill from the Territory we’re going out there. To do that and survive I need those who can fight. Do you think you can do that, Digger? Can you show me you have what it takes to be part of my crew? Can you kill to survive?”
    Melbourne took a moment before answering. His mind flashed back to the night the General’s Guard was attacked by ghouls, the night he escaped. He couldn’t bring himself to fight then, but that was different, that battle had been hopeless and he’d made a calculated decision that the only way to survive had been to run. He thought about having to use that dagger on another person, some innocent crew member of a transport dirigible. Still, this was about survival too.
    He nodded. “Yes,” Melbourne said, making sure he locked eyes with Captain Pratt. “I can do that.”

CHAPTER 6
    The footsteps of High Priestess Patricia echoed sharply off the stone floor in the bowels of the Supreme Court. The prison, or perhaps dungeon was a better word for the dank surroundings, spread out underground like a broad ants’ nest, and the clicking of the High Priestess’s heels filled the empty space as she moved with purpose down the long corridor. The cells in this wing had been cleared of prisoners, all except one.
    As Patricia approached the steel door to the cell, the solitary Holy Order clergyman on guard stood from the short wooden stool and bowed. He moved with military precision, obviously trying not to betray how utterly bored he was with this detail.
    “Your Holiness,” he said.
    “Open the door, please, Clergyman.”
    The clergyman nodded and collected a ring of keys from a hook on the wall. He moved to a gas lamp nearby, using the light to flick through the keys and select the correct one. He inserted it into the keyhole and the lock disengaged with a heavy clunk. The clergyman pulled the door open, the old steel screaming against rusted hinges.
    “Would you like me to accompany you, Your Holiness?”
    “That won’t be necessary,” the High Priestess said as she entered the cell.
    “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just call out if he gives you any trouble.”
    “Oh, he won’t.”
    There were no gas lamps inside the cell, and what little light made it in from the corridor didn’t quite reach the walls. The High Priestess stood framed in the doorway until her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She saw the dark shape of a figure sitting against the far wall. Heavy manacles were clasped around his wrists and ankles, connected to the floor with short chains, maybe long enough for him to stand but certainly not affording him the ability to move freely around the room.
    “I was wondering how long it would be until you came to see me,” the Administrator said, squinting up at her. “I hope you’ve come to admit that a horrible mistake has been made and undo what you’ve done before it’s too late.”
    High Priestess Patricia smiled. “Too late for what, Your Honor?” She accentuated the title, letting it hang in the air, wanting to ensure he understood how little it meant now.
    “Too late for you to avoid being charged with treason and exiled from the Central Territory forever.”
    “Come now,” the High Priestess said, walking closer to the pathetic shape of the man from whom she had so easily wrenched control of the Territory. “You are in no position to make threats. Obviously it is you who will stand trial for treason.”
    “I am the