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No one in this cavern appeared to have any idea of the battles beyond it. She passed couples walking hand in hand. A man worked on a play structure in the yard of a home, his children eager for the swings to get connected. A man in a white uniform strode past, delivering jars of food to each home, humming to himself.

It was bizarre. It was all too peaceful, too normal… and there was no metal. The windows had wooden frames. The buildings were made of brick or clay, no need for nails. The street had no lights or lanterns.

It was glaring once she noticed it. In fact, the only metal she was able to spot was in those floodlights high in the ceiling above. That made her even more aware of the rucksack she carried. Aside from the glowing jar, Marasi had some ammunition in it, and a few small explosivecharges, along with bandages, cash, and some lockpicks and other tools. Moonlight was the type of woman who liked to be prepared.

Marasi pulled the sack tighter against her shoulder. Unfortunately, she was drawing attention. People turned to watch her as she passed. Conversations between promenading couples died. Eyes lingered on her, as if she were the one person on inspection day who’dneglected to wear a uniform.

Perhaps best to hurry through this strange neighborhood and see if there was some way out the other side. Yet would that actually help? Her intel said there was a way to the portal through the Community. She needed to find it.

The lord mayor mentioned going to the Community,Marasi thought.He could be in here somewhere. Maybe he would lead me to it?

As two women on the road passed by quickly, wearing day dresses and moving at a brisk pace, they shot several furtive glances at Marasi. That posture… Marasi’s instincts said they were going to tell someone about her.

Those same instincts told her to go the other direction. But… she needed to find the people in charge. She almost asked Wayne what he thought, then felt like a fool. Over the years, she’dgrown to rely on him. Not having him at her back… well, it felt wrong.

After a split second of consideration, she broke into a trot to follow those two women. They hurried into a two-story townhome with wooden trestles along the wall outside, being climbed by painted ropes to imitate vines.

Marasi peered in through the door and found the women clustered around not soldiers or officers, but a stately, middle-aged blonde woman. She wore a fine grey-blue dress: short overcoat, long skirts with a slight bustle. It was a style that had been popular a decade ago. The stately woman met Marasi’s eyes, then hurried over and took her by the arm.

Marasi’s instinct was to dodge away, but it wasn’t a threatening move.

“Hurry, hurry,” the woman said to Marasi. “Inside. You’ve already been seen by too many, dear. Drenya, close the drapes!”

Befuddled, Marasi let the woman pull her into the well-furnished room as Drenya closed the drapes. The third woman lit an oil lamp on the table. It felt… quaint to see it after years of electricity inexorably creeping into every home and light sconce.

“Fialia,” the stately woman said, “fetch the others. Kessi will wantto meet her, obviously. And Abrem. He has been keeping notes. Hurry, hurry!” She then patted Marasi on the arm absently. “How are you, dear? Hungry? Thirsty? You must have had such a difficult time of it. You’re a survivor. Good for you.”

Drenya peeked out through the now-closed drapes, watching. She was a mousy younger woman in a dress that could have used some more color. “I don’t think Gord saw her, bless the Survivor.”

“Word will get to him eventually,” Fialia said, pausing by the door. “He’ll go straight to the mayor.”

“I’ll deal with Lord Entrone,” said the blonde woman, who settled Marasi in a seat. “Go!”

Fialia left and Marasi let herself be seated, trying to understand. They didn’t want the mayor to find out about her, so were these dissenters within the Set? But their clothing, these homes, this place…

And this woman. The stately blonde patted Marasi’s hand, then vanished into another room. Perhaps a kitchen? Marasi almost bolted. Perhaps they were trying to distract her from stopping Mayor Entrone? But then the blonde woman returned with some biscuits and tea.

Marasi gaped, flummoxed by the idea of a tea break in the middle of a dangerous incursion into enemy territory.

“Look at the poor thing,” said Drenya from the drapes. “It’s probably beenyearssince she saw real food.”

“It’s all right,” the blonde woman said, offering the biscuits. “Don’t be afraid. We have plenty here—like in the old days. You remember?”

“The… old days?” Marasi said.

“Yes, before the disaster,” the blonde woman said. “Before the ashfalls. We are safe down here.”

“It was built to keep us protected,” the other woman said, stepping up. “You must be so strong to have survived up there, to have found your way here.”

Up there.

Oh, rusts. It finally came together for Marasi. All this time she’dassumed the pictures of ash falling, the strange moving image made with the models above, was a part of a plot to threaten the outside world. But no. The hoax hadn’t been planned to be used in the future; it had already been perpetrated. On these people.

Rusts. They thought the world had been destroyed. And that they had been protected from it.

“How long,” Marasi whispered, “have you been down here?”

“Seven years now,” the blonde woman said, patting her hand. “Though we lived in much smaller caverns originally. This town—‘Wayfarer,’ as we call it—is about five years old.”