Ravenshore's Memory: Chapter 3

Kat stepped off the streetcar and helped Piper with her footing. They were greeted by the haphazardly-expanded city hall, a curious amalgamation of different styles and periods of architecture. Some of the newer, glassier portions were still covered in construction sheeting, though the reflective-vested workers were slowly peeling the sheeting away to reveal new panelling of darker, sturdier glass.

The first security checkpoint was through the enormous black iron fence the Aulonians had put up. Kat waited in line, shivering, hands tucked deep into her coat pockets. Piper’s nose and cheeks were bright red, but the cold didn’t stop her smile. The rifle-toting, bored-looking Protectorate officers in winterized blue mail accepted ID cards, squinted at aides and bureaucrats and councillors alike, checked bags, and allowed people inside, one by one.

By the time she reached the front of the line, Kat was sure her fingers were about to fall off. She fumbled and almost dropped her ID when handing it to the officer, a squat no-nonsense woman bundled heavily in black winter gear, who clearly hated being stuck on gate duty. Without a word, the officer snatched Kat’s ID, held it up, and motioned Kat through. The junior officer beside her pointed at Kat’s weapons, but before he could say a word, the short woman slapped his hand away and shook her head. Kat mumbled her thanks and pushed through, stamping her feet as she waited for Piper to be cleared. Then up the salted stone steps, a firm tug on the heavy blackwood door, and a sigh of relief in the heated entry hall.

There were three more checkpoints on the way to the basement. Kat passed through them each in turn, watching for security flaws, but the guards were all alert enough despite their boredom. Every one of them stood straighter, spoke more clearly, and stopped questioning Piper when they saw Kat’s rank.

At the last checkpoint, the guards scrutinized Kat’s ID, and scanned the card and Kat with some kind of device. Kat watched workers loading a fresh shipment of steel barrels onto the cargo lift, knocking on each in turn to ensure they were empty. The workers chatted and joked, but not about the barrels, having long since lost interest in theorizing why thousands of drums came in empty and none ever left.

“You’re clear,” said the guard to Kat, “but she’s not,” he said, stepping forward to block Piper.