The Lostkind Read Online Free Page A

"What exactly do you do here?"
    Yasi didn't look back. "Security. I'm the one that makes sure we stay hidden, makes sure the other Secret Cities don't start with us."
    "There are others?"
    "Sure." Archivist said behind them. "Every city has lost places; lost people."
    Vincent just went with it, swaying with the small boat. "You were serious before, weren't you? About the way in vanishing after I'm gone."
    "The ways in and out change all the time." Yasi counseled him. "The tunnels can be latched to be easy to open, or sealed up like they were never there. The place we showed you is Twelfth Level. It's where most of us live in the West Side. The levels go down, like on an elevator. The first level is closest to where people not unlike you live. The sewers, the phone lines, the subways… Below that is us. We let ourselves in through subway tunnels, through manhole covers, through building foundations. You have rush hour traffic, we have The Rhythm."
    "The Rhythm?"
    "The Rhythm of the Underground." Archivist explained. "The Underground is largely closed. Not exactly airtight, but we can seal a lot of the ways in and out at will, so... every breeze that comes in can only do so if it goes out somewhere. Every pipe or tunnel that floods has to have an exit. Sewer lines can flood, rainwater can overwhelm subways stations… The ways in and out change every day, every hour. We follow the Rhythm of the place. One tunnel is clear to walk, another needs a boat, the Rhythm changes with the tide or the weather or the people who live here, and this boat we just used will be beached, or the tunnel you came in through is full of sewerage."
    "Incredible." Vincent whispered. "It's like my city. I'm a city planner. When someone wants to put up a stoplight or a crosswalk, we have to decide if..."
    "If it screws up the Rhythm in New York." Archivist agreed. "We have planners too. When we make changes, add things, someone has to make sure it doesn't screw things up. That's what I do. An Archivist is a knowledge-dealer. Especially when it comes to the Underside. You and me are in the same business."
    Vincent grinned, despite himself.
    ~oo00oo~
    The path turned upward, and suddenly there were stairs. Spiral staircases that went up for hundreds of feet. The Underground people were well used to it, to the point of being almost superhuman in their endurance. Vincent had been puffing the whole time, until they came to another intersection. This tunnel was lit warmly with more of those kinetic lanterns.
    The tunnel was full of people. Young old, male, female. They were all dirty, but unashamed of it. They were hard workers, and it showed on their faces. They were all carrying loads. Some of them had old trolleys or wheelbarrows, most just had packs of goods piled high on their backs as they trudged through the intersection, heading into the Main Chamber. Vincent assumed so at least. He was so turned around that he didn't have a clue where any of this was leading.
    "We have to pause here for a while." Yasi said. "The largest cargo gets the right of way."
    Vincent didn't care that she was taking pity on the poor, out of shape, surface dweller. He just collapsed as he looked around the much wider, higher tunnel, ornate as the Main Chamber, with paintings on the walls like cave dwellers had hand-painted them. Vincent looked and realized that one of the stick figure sketches on the wall was of him in the boat with Yasi. "How?"
    "The kids." Yasi said, as though that explained everything. "They see everything. And everything they see they draw. It helps them. It's good for us too. Keeps the history."
    "The Gremlins get everywhere." Archivist added. "Eventually, we have to paint over the walls on this level. That's okay though. We always have more paint."
    "From where?"
    Archivist waved at the large caravan of human pack-mules passing by.
    "Who are they?" Vincent asked; the questions just kept coming non-stop.
    "Those are the Borrowers." Archivist said