Land Without Hope

Chapter 12 - Bolgue's Belly

Grenna's metics groaned as she shuffled across creaking floorboards, her withered hand gesturing for them to follow. "Ya boys best come deeper inside 'fore someone spots ya through the windows." The old woman led them through a narrow hallway lined with strange mechanical trinkets, their surfaces dulled by years of accumulated grime. A sour mixture of oil and rust permeated the air, making Daglan's nose wrinkle.

"We need to find another way out," Kento whispered, his usual bravado subdued. His fingers traced the edge of a shelf holding what looked like dismantled metic parts. "They'll probably search the houses soon."

"Ain't that simple, boy." Grenna's laugh came out like grinding gears. "Knights can scan if ya lying or not. So they believe what I said" She grinned at them, her eyes somehow both clouded with age and sharp as steel. "After all it was a couple youngins I shooed away."

Daglan's eyes widened. "They can tell if someone's lying?" No wonder the knights had seemed so certain, so casual in their search.

"Most folk don't know that little trick." Grenna settled onto a worn stool, her joints creaking like rusted hinges. "Makes it easier for 'em to keep control. Can't lie to the law if the law knows when ya lying." A distant mechanical grinding echoed through the walls, making them all pause. Through his enhanced perception, Daglan caught the sound of methodical footsteps several streets away. More patrols.

"We still need to find a way out," Kento said, pacing the cramped space. "Even if they believed you, they'll probably keep watching this area."

"Patience, boy." Grenna's voice carried an edge of amusement. "Knights'll be extra vigilant for a while, but they'll leave. Best to wait till they think the threat's passed." She tapped her cane against a floorboard. "Have a seat and humor these old bones with ya origins."

Daglan and Kento exchanged a glance before easing themselves onto the creaky stools across from her. They began sharing tales of Greybarrow and the circus, Grenna listened in silence. When Kento mentioned The Wandering Menagerie, something shifted in her expression. A faint glimmer sparked in her age-clouded eyes, and the ghost of a smile softened her features.

"So that ol' Vega still runnin' round with his merry band of misfits? How entertainin'..."

"You know the headmaster?" Kento asked, his surprise evident.

"Why, when I was just a wee thing, we never missed the circus when they'd roll through. Them was simpler times though." Her clouded eyes seemed to look through decades past. "'Fore that damn revolution went and ruined the whole damn country."

She then began waving her cane as if trying to swat some invisible fly. "But that's enough of the past. I'm not one for reminiscin'."

The old woman pushed herself up, joints protesting. "Knights should be movin' on by now. They never stick 'round too long - got too many streets to patrol." She shuffled to a grimy window, peering through a gap in the shutters. "Ya boys best be careful out there though. Knights ain't kind to outsiders, 'specially after dark."

Daglan reached out with his energy, painting a picture of the alleyways around them. The armored footsteps had indeed moved on, leaving only the usual mechanical drone of the city.

"Which way should we-" Kento started to ask, but Grenna cut him off with a wave of her cane.

"Don't be tellin' me ya plans! Less I know, less I can tell if they come askin' again." She shooed them toward the door with surprising speed for someone so frail. "Just remember - stay in the shadows, and if ya hear them comin', find yourself a good lie. Or better yet, find yourself a truth."

The night air hit them like a wall of wet smoke as they stepped back into the alley. Above them, the three massive factories continued their endless belching into the sky, their peaks lost in the murk.