Page 62 of Guiding Desire
Col drummed his fingers along the handle of his parasol. “I really just meant if you can handle Senny as a roommate and occasional bed mate. Channeling should be pretty easy to learn with an S-classer around to practice with, plus if a Guardian that powerful imprinted on you, it suggests your powers match his to a significant degree.” Col sighed. “That aside, I have a confession to make.”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t want to show you the statues. I mean, sure, take your time and look at them, but there’s something else.” Col’s demeanor changed, grew more serious.
“Did I do anything wrong, Conduit?”
“Pfft, stop. I only pulled rank on you that first day because protectors react so well when we do that.” He reached for Orrey’s hand, and at the touch, Orrey felt a thrumming, half-familiar, like running your hand along the fabric of a favorite shirt. “I’d like to offer you my friendship. I have—I understand how you feel. To a point. I saw you look at that wooden door and at the Grounds, and I know how different this life you have now is from…not having it. I was like that, a long time ago.” He lowered his head, and when he met Orrey’s gaze again, insecurity was written plainly on his face. “Call me Col. Like the rest of the team does, okay? And stop thinking in terms of rank.”
Orrey nodded. “That was what you wanted to discuss?”
Col shook his head. “No. I wanted to show you the archives.” He tapped his foot. “There are underground tunnels. They run everywhere, a safety and maintenance thing, but the Rock has the least suspicious building AI. It’s used to the artists being charmingly weird and out and about any hour of day or night Are you up for taking a look?”
“Is it illegal?”
Col shook his head. “No. There really is preciously little that is, for a Conduit.” He shrugged. “And I have access anyway, plus the authority to let you in.”
“I suppose if you want to start this friendship by testing it, Conduit Coldis, that’s fine with me.”
Col smiled at Orrey. “I see what your mother meant about going through all those coloring books but always doing it wrong.” He pointed to a narrower door, newer, and made of metal. “That way.”
“Lead, and I’ll follow,” Orrey said.
“Whenyousaidthesewere maintenance tunnels, I thought they were, you know, maintained,” Orrey said, eyes running over yet another stretch of wall that looked as if it had been cut from stone.It might have been. Lithomancers could’ve done that.
“They’re absolutely functional,” Col said, his parasol resting over his shoulder, wrist cradled on the handle. “This part of Argentea—of the Grounds—was built above some natural rock. The lithomancers back then used it for the first buildings and because it would make great shelter in case that was ever needed.
“As the city grew and grew, pushing the farmable land out, this became archival space. Some grains are even stored here, well below where we are now. It’s not anywhere near as effective as the long-term pole storage, but more convenient for researchers to get to.”
“I had no idea all this existed,” Orrey said, looking up at old-fashioned light fixtures, heavy and set up so that between each, eerie shadows loomed.
“There’s generally no need for people to know.”
“How do you know this is here then?”
Col let his parasol slide off his shoulder. “Tunnel entrances are still a safety thing everyone is supposed to know about. I personally just like to know everything about a place I can manage to find out. Here we are.”
They stopped in front of massive double doors, smooth metal. On one, there was a numbers lock unlike any Orrey had ever seen, and when Col began operating it, it became clear why.
“Is that…mechanical?”
“Yup,” Col said, turning the tumbler left and right, left and right. “Open the mystery,” he said, a quote from one of those animated shows Orrey knew even though he’d never followed it.
He pulled the right door open, and Orrey helped. The thing moved smoothly enough, but it was heavy.
“Who designed this?” Orrey asked.
“People who liked secrets. That’s enough to get inside.” Col let go of the door and slipped through into the thick blackness that lay beyond it.
Orrey didn’t. He looked back the way they’d come, ahead to where the tunnel continued seemingly without end.
“Found it,” Col’s distorted voice came from inside the blackness, which was washed away as more old light fixtures slowly began spewing brightness. “What? Were you scared of the dark?” Col asked, twirling his parasol and crooking a finger.
“No, but walking into a situation blind is, ah—“
“Stupid, I know. Now, come on.”
Orrey followed. The archives had heigh ceilings, about three Guardians high, which made Orrey wonder how deep below ground they actually were. Most surprisingly, housed on shelves and covered with some thin plastic-like material, were not digital files but rather paper, books, and boxes.
