The Lostkind Read Free

herself to stand upright, and pulled off the scarf from her face and the hat off her head, making a bow. "My name, and my profession, is Keeper." She creaked. "Welcome to The Underside."
    Vincent licked his lips. "I… My name is-"
    "Vincent McCall." The old woman said with him. "Yes, we know. We've kept an eye on your for the last week, as we do when we consider recruitment."
    "Recruitment to what?"
    "Doesn't matter, you didn't pass." Keeper said cuttingly. "But we needed to talk with you, and I figured Yasi would have a better chance of getting you down here peacefully than I would."
    Vincent sent the lean woman a slightly scandalized look. Yasi didn't speak, didn't even notice, as she cast aside the long black coat, revealing her true self underneath. She was rail thin and dressed like a tribal warrior, with her torso bound in tight leathers, the many buckles and straps giving the impression of modern chain-mail armor. Her arms were bare, and inked, though he didn't know if the markings were drawn on or tattooed. She was dressed to intimidate, with a unique and daring style. It made her look beautiful and dangerous.
    Vincent couldn't believe any of it was really happening. He was almost literally down the rabbit hole. Two hours before, he was on the train back to his apartment, trying to decide if the woman across from him was actually flirting, and now he was here, in this world beneath the world.
    Yasi actually grinned at him. "This is exciting." She offered. "We rarely do this."
    Vincent looked back, and observed the Triumvirate. Archivist, dressed in fine clothes that were a century out of date, but still immaculate; like he was expecting luncheon with the Queen. There was Keeper, an impossibly ancient old woman who looked like a cross between a scarecrow and a tribal Medicine Woman, eyes sharper than a hawk. And between them was Yasi, much younger, the only one armed, her face and exposed skin painted with minor ancestral marks; his first taste of this strange existence.
    They sat down at a small serving table, which was barely above ankle height. The three of them just settled down easily into a crouch, as Vincent followed somewhat awkwardly on his knees. There was a Chinese teapot on the table, and Keeper poured for them all with great ceremony. The tea was sweet smelling, and Vincent couldn't begin to guess what kind it was.
    "So... You have questions." Keeper said. "I'll tell you right now, we won't answer them all. But we'll answer more of it than we've ever told anyone."
    "What is this place?" Vincent asked.
    "This is The New York Underside." Archivist said. "It's where we live."
    "And... where exactly are we?"
    "About four hundred feet down. Under Manhattan, under the subways... We have tunnels that reach through all the Burroughs, though they are relatively new."
    "How long has this all been here?"
    "Over a century at least. The first of us, Werner, Wells and Camden, they came down here and saw the space they could use. They were wealthy men, great builders. They envisioned a Secret City, where people could hide. During the Great War, they were convinced that the war would last for decades, devastate the world. They spent their fortunes trying to rebuild their expensive world, far underground. A bomb shelter the size of a city. They wanted it to be very plush, very uptown. Well, that never really came about, but they put in a lot of necessities. We've added a lot more over the years."
    Vincent looked out over the huge dome; at the crowds of people making their way below. "How big is this place?"
    "That's hard to define." Archivist answered. "It's not all in one spot; some of it is sealed at one time or another. We have routes all the way through to-"
    "That's not important." Yasi put in, cutting off any details before they could be given.
    Vincent took the brush off for what it was and moved on. "How many people live here?"
    "A lot. Thousands. No need to be specific." Keeper told him. "New York City has several