I threw my hood over my head, tugging it low enough to hide most of my face. The last thing I needed was some loose-lipped drunk recognizing me from the rumors flying around since the mansion incident.
The stairwell leading into the market was hidden behind the back of an abandoned old bathhouse. Rusted metal and mildew-stained walls did very little to hide the iron door nestled between two support beams.
The air shifted the moment Mary and I started to descend.
The underground market wasn't exactly subtle, and was not what I had initially expected. Housed in what looked like an abandoned city reservoir, from what was visible, this place was the size of a football field, with many doors leading to different places. Low-hanging lamps bathed everything in a sickly yellow hue, it was very crowded at this time, people of varying natures walked around, most with disguises or thin hoods covering themselves. Makeshift stalls and stores lined the perimeter, sometimes leading into other areas outside this part of the market, and weaved into clustered lanes, forming a chaotic labyrinth of deals, whispers, and criminal enterprise.
It was like the Wild West met a cathedral's underbelly, yet an air of proffesionalism still lingered, as if everyone here was under the same deal.
Vendors hawked food out of steaming carts skewers of questionable meat, strange fruit soaked in glowing liquids. Others sold trinkets with too many sharp edges to be ornamental. There were potion booths, charms made of teeth, powders in cracked glass vials. A man was peddling "dream dust" beside a stall that looked one wind gust away from collapse, one of the less popular stalls here. And tucked off to the side, barely hidden, was a brothel dressed up as a "theatrical bathhouse", with sparsely cloyhed woman standing in front of it. Mary tugged her hood lower at the sight of it, a click of discomfort and disgust escaped her mouth.
It was agreed chaos in structure. Thinly hidden blasphemy in architecture.
"Try not to stare," I muttered, my voice as low as I could muster. "Everything here either bites or grabs."
We moved slowly, eyes sharp but nonchalant, careful not to draw attention to ourselves. It was crowded, and Mary, standing slightly behind me to my left, held one corner of my robe with her hand, careful not to lose me in the crowd. I kept one hand near my coat where the revolver rested snug and ready.
I already knew where I was going, as I moved to the left top corner of the market, squeezing my way through crowds of people and hawkish business owners. After a couple minutes of pushing, I stood in front of a store, which was probably one of the biggest ones here. A rusted sign sat above the store, it read: "Corvin's Curios & Lead." Even though this was a black market, the store itself was quite clean, shelves neatly stacked with words describing their contents, which required a key to access. There were already around ten people inside of the store, browsing or asking about products. A couple men, armed with rifles, stood near the entrance, with hoods that covered they're eyes, scanning lisetlessly.
There was a reception at the back of the store, where a man stood behind a table, he was burely, grizzled, and his arms were scarred and his fingers stained with gun oil. A faded military tattoo marked his forearm, which I couldn't recognize from the top of my head, but it certainly wasn't local.
"You have a knack for staring. Looking for something special, friends?" he asked, not looking up from his polishing cloth.
I walked over to the counter, Mary still following in tow. I leaned a little closer, my voice in a hushed tone. "I'm one of Hallrigg's men. He mentioned you might have a bit more... selective stock. "
I just hope he hasn't gotten the news about Halrigg yet.
With that silent prayer in mind, I watched his reaction. It seemed my words had caught his attention. His eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly.
"Hallrigg, huh? Big words for people I've never seen before, why don't you take that big hood off first."
Phew, we're in the clear.
"I'm new, and you know I won't do that. Ive been reassigned from the Foundry District. Halrigg said you'd know that I'm coming."
He stared at me, like a man trying to decide whether to load a gun or holster it, and he sighed slightly as he lay the gun he was polishing on the table. He looked behind me, and nodded his head slightly in a questioning gesture.
"And what about them? They don't seem to talk much."
Mary maintained her posture, seemingly unaffected by his words. The thought of her identity being found out was both amusing and terrifying.
With thin eyes, I responded in kind.
"Extra reassurance."
The man gazed at both of us for a second, and then relented.
"Fine. You want to see the real wares?"
I nodded once.
He jerked his chin toward a door behind his booth, which was about as high quality as the rest of the store .
"Go on. Quiet-like, I don't want the other customers thinking I'm giving some nobody's special treatment."
I gestured subtly to Mary to keep her head low and stay behind me, then followed the vendor around. He unlocked the door with a key that jingled against a dozen others and pulled it open with a groan.
"After you," he said with a grim smile.
---
One door led to another, than another, than to a hatch on the ground, until finally, we had arrived. The rain drainage tunnels were old and seemingly unused, black stone slick with condensation, the smell of mildew and rust thick in the air. This section had been retrofitted. Crates lined the walls, some sealed, others cracked open to reveal rifles, contraband, gunpowder in oilskin bags. Places where workers could relax had been turned to storage units, and there were multiple guards standing around, or sitting down smoking ciggerates of unknown substances.
"This where you smuggle it all in?" I asked casually, trying to pri information without seeming suspicious, eyes scanning the layout.
"Don't insult me," he said with a snort. "This is just a transfer point. Real runs come in from across the river. We just move it through the old drainage tunnels and sell it above."
He walked over to one crate and pulled out a polished revolver with an ivory grip. "New shipment from the Kalgarian Kingdom. Model 78s. Clean, quick, easy to conceal."
"Tempting," I replied. "But I've already got a piece for myself. Additionally, I'm scouting new wares for Halrigg, so expect him to come next to make the big purchases."
His eyes held slight annoyance, but at the mention of the next visit, it lit back up with greed.
"Suit yourself. You just looking or do you want something extra?"
"Both. I've also heard some of your men talking about weird occurances in these parts. Anything weird in the tunnels? Strange symbols? Noises? Halrigg dosnt want guns that might be contaminated."
He paused, just briefly, and looked up with a bit more of a serious gaze than before.
"Sometimes the boys talk. Had a kid go pale last week, swore he saw a shadow crawl on the ceiling, but chalked it up to bullshit after we couldn't find anything. Another said he heard a voice whispering through the drainpipes, constant and unending. We even had to transfer him out since he was so spooked. No bodies, no blood. Just… bad air, maybe, but its rare and it hasn't affected any shipments, so why should we care."
Thats definitly something to investigate. Whether it be heretical or a normal supernatural occurance is yet to be determined. Though I fear i'll be the one to figure that out. Hopefully Mary's still using her eyes on him, so I can verify with her later.
Looking behind me, I could see Mary's hood facing towards the man, unwavering. I looked at the man again, asking similiar questions.
"You ever seen anything yourself? Maybe on the river? Or is it all localized here."
"Me?" He chuckled, slicking back what little hair he had left. "Only thing I see is gold and fools. Though…" He scratched his beard, contemplating for a bit.
"I did hear something strange a couple weeks back. One of the supply teams came back shaken after they had got lost and went down the wrong pipeline. Said a tunnel mouth had been etched with some kind of symbol, but asking them to describe it only causes them to shake. We didn't bother asking after that, and they've been normal since. We sealed that entrance off, and don't really ask them about it. Its not our job to investigate supernatural shit like that."
Nodding my head, I picked up a small revolver and scanned it, both to keep up the guise of small talk and to see if there was any residue left on the shipments.
"Which tunnel system was this?"
"Didn't see it myself. But the boys said it was the one led to the edge of the city, down where the old church was burned down all those years back."
Mary was listening intently. I caught her eye and tapped my shoulder once.
She turned slightly, her irises shifting faintly under the hood, unnoticeable to anyone except me. Her golden eyes scanning him for falsehood seemed to glow especially in the dark.
After a moment, she gave the smallest nod.
He was telling the truth.
I kept my voice even. "I'll take some revolver rounds. Maybe ten."
His face fell slightly. "That's it?"
"For now. There's a bigger order coming from Halrigg, so be expectant."
He grunted. "Fine."
He handed me a small wrapped bundle and took my couple silver coin without another word.
As I walked off, Mary leaned closer. "He was honest. But I think he was holding something back."
"Yeah," I murmured. "But I don't want to burn that bridge just yet, not until I have to at least."
---
We asked around more. Quietly. Indirectly. But the rest of the market offered nothing solid. Just rumors. Whispers about shadows in the drains or complaints about the other people here. One guy claimed a friend of a friend saw a childs mutaliated body float down the drain. Another swore they heard music coming from the sealed off pipe mouths, a faint pianos melody that was as scary as it was alluring.
I was about ready to call it a night when we heard shouting.
At first, I thought it was a street fight. But no, it was just one man, sitting next to a pillar, with his hands around his knees, shouting gibberish to no one in particular.
He was gaunt, beard wild and matted, fingernails black with dirt. His skin was covered in scratch marks, red and raw.
"The black crow! The black crow returns!" he shrieked, spittle flying. I could faintly see his eyes as he stared at the ground.
They're bleached... white?
Continuing his screeching, the man started to scratch at his head, pulling hairs out and bleeding.
"The dove will die, the dove will be drowned in black! The eye watches! The eye never sleeps!"
Shopkeepers rolled their eyes. One came out from behind his stall and started shooing the man away with a stick, hitting him.
"Get outta here, Rook! No raving on market time!"
But the man just laughed, looking right at the man as he backed away, eyes wild and distant.
"The crow walks again," he hissed. "And the night follows."
He vanished into the shadows, silence following him.
Mary was stiff beside me. "What was that about-?"
With a troubled expression, I looked back at her, seeing she was slightly shaken up.
I told her not to talk no matter what... but I guess she would be freaked out by something like this.
"An Oracle." I said quickly, dismissing he worries. "He's mad. Ignore it."
But I couldn't ignore the sudden weight in my chest. The echo of the divination from earlier. Raven and dove. Eternal night. Eye that never blinks.
Coincidence? Maybe.
But I didn't believe in coincidence.
"Let's go," I muttered, my eyes lingering in the darkness the man had escaped to. I had just about enough of the dark.
We moved toward the exit. Whatever this place was hiding, it was only just beginning to show its teeth.
And I was starting to worry mine weren't sharp enough.