Dead Boys by Gabriel Squailia Read Free Book Online

understanding,” called Jacob, stepping into the fray with an engraved account-stone held high. “Maybe your friend could be convinced to overlook this unfortunate imbroglio, Leopold?” Dangling the account-stone over their heads was crass, but effective: the bone-bag went silent.
    “Campbell!” gasped Leopold, and for once that was all he had to say.
    The bone-bag snapped his jaw shut behind the tear in the shopping bag that served as his mouth. He’d zeroed in on the pebble’s carvings, which any time-conscious citizen could decode: it was linked to an account that held far more than they were squabbling over. “Possible. Probable, even. We’ll let the matter drop. Though I’d caution you to consider who you cozy up to, citizen.”
    “The account is Campbell Preservation,” said Jacob, handing over the pebble and whispering a short alphanumeric code. “And I thank you for your concern, but this isn’t my first encounter with Monsieur L’Eclair.”
    “Indeed,” said Leopold, regaining his composure as he staggered into the crowd, “what a surprise to meet you here, of all places! I’ve been meaning to stop by your flat for ages, old spoon. The preservation you performed has held up impeccably, for which I feel I owe you a great length of gratitude. Well, I’ll just deposit these stones, shall I, and then we’ll make a date sometime in the near future—”
    “I’ll pay you six months to forget these trifles and escort us through the Tunnels,” said Jacob.
    Leopold, who’d been dodging and weaving in an obvious attempt to lose the company, stopped short, head swaying at the end of its scarf. “Sorry— six months, did you say?”
    “I did,” said Jacob. Shuddering as he brushed against Ma Kicks’ wriggling finger, he withdrew an intricately-carven pebble from the pouch around his wrist. “Leopold L’Eclair, this is my ward, Remington, and his—compatriots, Adam and Eve.”
    “Hiya! Your hair’s real pretty,” said Remington.
    “Jacob, that boy has a bird roosting in his head.”
    “And precious little else.” Jacob unfolded the map. “We need only to reach this point, near the Bottomless Vat, here. Once we’ve arrived, half a year is yours.”
    “Half a year,” whispered Leopold, making some rapid calculations on his fingertips. “And the drinks are on you? Splendid!” Jacob stammered as the map was whisked from his hands. “A generous offer, Campbell, and one you won’t regret in any lasting fashion. Bring your little menagerie along, then, and we’ll wet our whistles whilst wending our way to your treasure!”

CHAPTER FOUR
    The Underground University

    S o if we’re just going to a bar,” Remington asked Jacob, “why do we need to pay this guy to take us? Can’t he just tell us where to go?”
    “Just going to a bar !” cried Leopold, his head jerking wildly with laughter. “Oh, Jacob, what an adorable little halfwit you’ve adopted. Remington, allow me to enlighten you now, as you’ll soon be too confused to formulate a coherent question.
    “One would be better off giving directions to the Minotaur’s residence than to a place as well-hidden as this. It’s quite impossible to overestimate the difficulty of travel in the Tunnels, and the primary reason is that they aren’t a neighborhood at all: they’re Dead City itself, buried and re-buried over the centuries by the caprices of Lethe. Each time our royal river floods, driving the citizens into the hills for safety, she thoroughly reorders the cityscape, tossing its buildings about like a child’s blocks while dragging in new ruins from the Lands Above. Old-timers tell of a Great Swelling in which every building on the surface was driven underground by the weight of half-destroyed architecture, and lesser disasters occur constantly, making navigation below the streets a constant source of adventure.
    “Thus, there are myriad strategies for exploration. A timid reveler might climb down through a gaping hole in