Brandedfool

Just like walking or eating, all that magic required was control of your body and intention to complete the action. It was just that most people didn't have conscious control over how they used their souls. They ended up using what little magic they could wield in mundane ways: to always get the floor spotless when they swept, or to prevent themselves from tripping, or to tell when someone was lying to them. A thousand little magics were going unnoticed every day until you learned to look for them.

The man sneered to himself. All that energy wasted. It could be put to better use in a factory or on a construction site if only they could properly harness it. That was what he had devoted his lives to, and he had been handsomely rewarded.

He pushed open the door to the King’s Prison. For all it was called a prison, the room was beautiful. It was perpetually flooded with sunlight, and the flowers were replaced with fresh buds from the manor gardens daily. Today, the musician in attendance was a pianist, playing slow warm music to fill the room with sound.

In the center of all that splendor and wealth, on a plinth of polished bronze and steel, sat the gilded prison cell. 

“Gardener,” The King’s voice was slightly muffled by the glass panels set in the latticework of bars, but his tone was triumphant as ever. “The best royal mage in the world. Come in, come in.”

Gardener obeyed, fixing a smile on his face, but he wondered how the King could so easily spout sweet lies when he was sitting inside a prison that proved he was lying. 

Even after two lifetimes serving King Regalton II, spending his days picking apart the little mysteries of magic, Gardener was still confounded by the king’s prison, the so-called Machinus Diplomatica. He had spent 20 years trying to understand its magic, but he could not.

The King stood laboriously. He had grown fat in his cell, and now his stomach hung heavy over his belt. He took the knob of the cell door in his hand and opened it graciously, like a host welcoming guests. It was not the physical barrier that kept the king inside the prison but the magical one.

Gardener stepped up onto the platform and into the room. He shivered as he felt the magic of the prison close around him: heavy and still.

“Now,” the King sat again heavily. His thick-fingered hand found the bowl of fried pork skins on the table and closed around a fistful of them, “Tell me how my plan develops.”

Gardener was still adjusting to the thick stench of cologne, sweat, and fat inside the prison. He swallowed before speaking, keeping his eyes carefully downcast. “Your Majesty" he said, “The—”

“Gardener,” The King’s voice contained a note of humor, but condescension as well, “We have talked about how you address me. Please. We are a modern nation.”

Gardener began again, “Mr. Regalton,” he said. “The suspected vessels for the Traitor are being gathered. Tomorrow, they will begin the journey to the manor for the Celebration of Remembrance. The trains are being prepared as we speak to make the journey with minimal stops.”

“Good,” The King said, “have there been any issues?”

“No, Sir,” Gardener said. “We’ve been able to confirm the location of every individual and provide their summons—”

“Invites, Gardener. It’s a party I'm throwing, not a court trial.” The king put three pork skins into his mouth at once.

“Their invites,” Gardener said, “were all delivered, and it was... Made clear that their attendance was mandatory.” Almost 90 people had been branded with tracking runes because they had shown some hesitation over accepting the invitation, but the rest had agreed or had indeed taken the invitation as exactly what it appeared to be and excitedly began planning for the party. Ah, the ignorance of youth.

“Excellent. We will have a full house then,” the King beamed, “and has the housing been arranged for them?”

“Yes, sir,” 1100 bedrolls ready for the guests to be packed into their holding chambers while Gardener, the royal guards, and his men all examined them according to the King's instruction.

“Very good,” The King’s expression changed at last, the thin layer of graciousness slipping away. “Did any of them try to escape?”

“Yes, sir.  Only 5, and we caught all of them before they crossed the border.”

“Good. Pay special attention to them. We both know how much the traitor likes to flee.” His eyes glittered with hatred at the thought of the traitor mage. “We will bring him to heel again, Gardener. Then I will be free, and we will finally continue our work.”

Gardener only had to force his smile a little. The King being out of his prison would be welcome. They had been forced to cease their expansion of Regalis while he was locked away, but when he was free again, they could begin, once again, to expand East and capture the last cities between Regalis and the sea. And with that expansion, Regalis would finally be the size that King Regalton I, the first King’s father, had originally laid out in his plans.

More importantly to Gardener’s mind, the King being free meant the Steam-Powered Mage would be back under the King’s control, and this time, Gardener would make sure that all of the Mage’s secrets would be passed on to him. He would learn how to build the Machinus Diplomatica, and he would create magical prisons for all of the King’s enemies, and his own. Then he would imprison the Steam-Powered Mage and force them to teach him how to build the most innovative arcane technology ever conceived: the Eternity Engine.

The King was thinking along the same lines. “You and I, Gardener,” he said wistfully, “we are going to live forever.”

“No,” Charlie said, “but I think they would hurt us, or imprison us. I think they could torture us, if they think we're the Mage and we aren't telling them. Then they might kill us after they find the right person.”

Ozzy gave her a look like she was insane. “The King wouldn't do that. If he wanted to, the guard wouldn't let him.”

“They would,” Charlie said, “The King pays the guard from his coffers, and the King would do anything to be free of his prison.”

Ozzy went quiet. He sat down beside Charlie on the bed. “Being trapped for twenty years would drive anyone mad,” He said, “even King Regalton.”

Charlie nodded, “I know it would drive me to madness.” 

Ozzy nodded, “I think I would try to kill myself if I couldn’t get out.”

“Me too,” Charlie admitted. “But then I’m not a king who might ascend and never be reborn again.”

“You might be,” Ozzy said. “Wouldn’t that be something: if one of us turned out to be royalty.”

“Ozzy, please. We’re trying to solve a problem here.”

“Right. The other that I wanted to talk about: that tracking brand.” He pointed at Charlie’s wrist.

 “I don’t think it will be an issue,” Charlie said. “He won’t be able to focus on the tracking brand all the time, and if he’s branded anyone else with that same glove, it will ping all of us at once.” That was how tracking runes worked: to track the object, you had to be holding the stamp that made it, and you had to be focusing on the item. Charlie had only used a tracking rune once: to find a lost wrench in the railyard. The tools were expensive enough that each one was given its own unique rune. She had held the small metal stamp in her hand and known with certainty that the missing wrench was laying on the floor of an out-of-service engine in the railyard. It wasn't like she could see it there, but like she could feel the metal and the dust settling over her, as she lay abandoned on the floor.

Ozzy kicked open the storage box at the end of his bed. “So you want to try to get out of the kingdom even with the tracker?”

“Yes,” Charlie said. “That guard captain is long gone by now.”

Ozzy hummed, “Okay, so what, we just buy tickets out of the Kingdom?”.

“No. We should sneak aboard a train. A boxcar would be best.” Charlie folded her legs beneath her. “We know when the trains run. We just have to sneak into the railyard and board a car.”

“You want to spend days in a boxcar?” Ozzy asked. “Like vagabonds?”

Charlie nodded and clenched her jaw. 

Ozzy looked at her despairingly.  He said, “The things I do for love.”

***

They waited five days for the next freight train to make their escape.

The first day, Ozzy went back to the railyard and tried to get back into the company store, but the clerk told him to leave as soon as he came in. Former employees of the Regalis Railroad Company were not allowed to shop in the company store, even if they hadn’t been fired for wrongdoing. That meant that the almost 400 Company bucks that Ozzy had been saving up was now just useless paper. He ended up exchanging it with a new porter for less than a quarter of its value. But some money was better than no money, and it was enough to cover his rent for the one more week they needed to stay in Precipice.

Charlie watched the railyard most of the day. She had a suspicion that the Royal Police were still in the city. Sure enough, she saw two of them in the ticket booth at the station late that day, giving orders to a man she recognized as the station manager. He was nodding furiously and wringing his hands. 

She was glad Ozzy had agreed not to try and purchase passenger tickets out of Regalis.

The day the Freight Train was due to pass through Precipice, they packed two messenger bags full of food, blankets, and clothing.

“Let me take a few more cans than you,” Ozzy said, “I’m bigger than you are so I can carry more.”

Charlie couldn't argue with that.

When she left Ozzy’s tenement with her bag that afternoon, she looked all around the street, trying to be discreet about it, but she saw nothing. No one was watching her, and there was nothing strange going on.

Charlie began to feel a prickling on the back of her neck the longer she looked. She took a breath and walked on. She was just being paranoid.

 That night, they met up outside the railyard, but not too close. There were patrols of the city guards and the railroad company’s hired security to worry about.  Instead, they walked through the woods until they met the track again, and then walked along it until they came to a long, sharp turn.

“What do you think?” Ozzy asked, “Is this one sharp enough?”

Charlie squinted. Luckily the moon was nearly full, and they could see a long way, even in the darkness. “I think so,” She said.

Train hopping was, in theory, simple and, in reality, incredibly dangerous. Not only was it illegal: one wrong move could mean having your body crushed under the wheels of a train car. The best place to hop onto a train was in a railyard, which they didn’t want to risk sneaking into. The next best place was somewhere along the tracks where the train had to slow down almost to a stop. The sharp turn in the tracks where they were standing now was, hopefully, one of those places. Any train, especially a heavy one, would have to slow down significantly to make this turn without derailing.  When it slowed down enough for them to run alongside and keep up, they would find an open boxcar and jump into it. If they couldn’t find an open car, then they would climb up a ladder on the side of a car and either walk across the top of the train to find a car with some shelter, or until the train slowed down again on another turn or at the next railyard. 

Ozzy ran his eyes over the tracks. He set his bag aside and started clearing the side of the track of debris. Charlie joined him, but she kept her bag on. She wanted to be able to jump on the train at a moment’s notice.

They cleared a runway, and settled in to wait with their packs on their backs. Now they were standing still, Charlie became aware of how cold the air was. It was just the beginning of fall, and summer heat still lingered, but at night the temperature plummeted. Soon, Charlie was shivering.

She took off her bag and dug through it until she found a knitted hat. She twisted her hair up for extra insulation and pulled the hat over it. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was a lot warmer than she had been before. Especially when she pulled the hat down over her ears.

Because the world was muffled for her, it was Ozzy who heard the train first. He straightened up, and Charlie pulled the hat up to listen. The faint whistle of a steam engine called over the treetops.

They exchanged a glance before they both wordlessly walked to the start of the long, sharp turn. They stood close together behind a tree so the headlight would be blind them. It strobed through the trees like a rapidly blinking eye trying to warn them of a coming beast.

Then the freight train thundered out of the darkness. Massive and loud. It shattered the tentative silence of the night with its symphony of growls and white and chugs.  For a single, breathless moment, Charlie thought it was going to fly past them without even slowing.

The brakes engaged with a metallic grinding, and the train began to slow as it approached the turn. The engine chugged past at just above a running pace, and hot wind blasted Charlie and Ozzy. Then the blinding light and the thunder of the engine passed by them, and they were blind while the parade of freight cars and box cars began to roll past. 

“Shit,” Ozzy blinked his eyes hard, trying to recover his night vision. Charlie was blind too: vision full of strange floating shapes and swirls.

A sudden desperation seized her. This was their last chance. In two days, they would be due to leave for the Freetown Estate, and if they did not turn up, they would be hunted down. They had to get out of Regalis tonight. She blinked hard, and her vision cleared at last.

In the colorless light of the moon, the freight cars were squares of textureless shadow. She looked up and down the line of them desperately, trying to see the shape of an open door or, failing that, a ladder. She stared for what felt like hours until a square of trees caught her eye.

“There!” She yelled over the noise, and pointed at the open door.

Ozzy saw it too. He took off at once, keeping pace with Charlie as they gained speed. The train was a little faster than they were, and the open box car was approaching fast.

“Jump for it!” Ozzy yelled.

Charlie took two more steps and then did, throwing herself at the side of the moving train against all her instincts. Below her feet, the wheels churned, waiting to catch her legs and drag her down.

She landed hard on her stomach, and the breath rushed out of her. Her feet kicked in the wind.

Charlie rolled aside. Her knees banged against the metal door, and  she struggled to get them under her.

Ozzy was still running. As she turned to look at him, he jumped for the open door. He landed hard on his stomach, like Charlie had, and had to hold his longer legs out straight from the train car.

Charlie grabbed the straps of his bag and hauled him into the train car. When his knees were in, Ozzy gained traction and crawled the rest of the way in on his own.

Charlie finally took a breath in. Her lungs ached from the impact, and she coughed hard. Ozzy gasped too, and then he began to laugh in a strange wheezing way as air re-entered his lungs.

“That was great!” He said, grinning. “Like jumping off trees into the lake.”

Charlie grinned back, but she was shaking. She could not stop picturing the wheels catching her flesh and crushing her bones. The train wouldn't even slow if one of them was beneath the wheels. The driver probably wouldn't even notice a bump.

Ozzy sat up and pulled her in for a kiss. His mouth felt warm in the cold night.

They both found their footing awkwardly, and surveyed their new surroundings. The box car was empty except for a few open crates and empty burlap sacks. That was why the door had been left open. They chose a corner, facing towards the engine, and set down their bags. Both of them had brought blankets, but the wind of the train sucked all the warmth out of the air, and neither of them were thick, so they ended up both curled up under a pile of all the blankets, plus a couple of the burlap sacks. Only then were they warm and comfortable enough to relax.

Charlie sipped some of her supply of water. She was worried she hadn't brought enough to last to the next city. She had been so worried about making it into the train, it hadn't occurred to her they might need supplies for the actual journey. They had food, but water was expensive and heavy. They each had a large bottle, but that was all. They would have to be careful not to drink it too quickly.

Charlie wasn't even sure where the next nearest city was. They could be in this boxcar for days or weeks. Really their best chance was to wait for the train to stop, and then find the driver or one of the coal shovelers. They couldn't exactly turn the train around just to take a couple stowaways back to Regalis.

The train wouldn't stop until morning anyway, and by then they would be out of Regalis, the radius of the Guardian of Souls that would suck them back into the kingdom after they died, and safe.

She smiled to herself as she sat back against the side of the box car. The forest flashed by outside, and the train swayed gently as it clunked over the tracks. Despite all the time she had spent working on them, it was the first time Charlie had actually ridden on a train for more than a few minutes. There was something magic about riding the iron beast as chugged along, unstoppable by man or beast.

Charlie rested her head against her pack and watched the world go by.

***

They woke to the sound of the brakes shrieking as the train slowed. Charlie sat up first. The sky outside was still dark, but a hint of red crept along the horizon. 

Ozzy groaned as he sat up, “how do people sleep on these things?”

Charlie was already on her feet, hand against the wall to support herself as the train slowed. She approached the open side of the boxcar and peered out. They had left the dense trees of Precipice. When she looked back, she could see the mountain that they had descended from, the drop of which was so severe that trees grew out of it sideways in some places and twisted upwards towards the sun from their bases. When she looked forward, she saw a slope downward over rolling green hills, fields of crops. There was a city down there too, half-lost in the blue haze of the horizon. It seemed vast and strange to Charlie. She could have sworn some of the distant buildings were very tall, taller than any building in Precipice, or the ones she had seen in photographs of Freetown or Soothington.

But closer, much closer, there was another building of brick and stone, and flying above it was the Regalis Flag: a red crown in a blue circle on a field of white.

Charlie swore. She recoiled into the train. “Get up,” She said to Ozzy, "we have to go.”

“What?” He said sleepily, “why?”

“The border guard is here,” Charlie was stuffing supplies back into her bag. “they’re going to check the train.”

“Shit,” Ozzy tried to get to his feet, but the train jerking beneath him threw him off balance, and he tripped on his blanket and his own feet. He fell to the floor with a yelp and a bang.

Charlie gasped his name and rushed over. She took Ozzy’s shoulders and helped him sit up. “Are you okay?” She asked him, “did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so,” He said, “this damn train—”

The train braked hard again, as if it could hear them. Charlie held Ozzy steady, and when it had stopped moving, pulled him to his feet.

“We have to run,” She said, “now.”

They grabbed their bags, but hesitated to hop out of the boxcar. There was no thick treeline here, no place to go to hide from view until they reached a small hill maybe a quarter of a mile away. If they ran, they would truly have to run.

Ozzy leaned out of the car and saw the border guard were already making their way down the train, inspecting each car as they went. They carried lit lanterns, and every car with so much as a shadow was inspected to see if anything or anyone was hidden inside.

“Maybe we should turn ourselves in,” Ozzy suggested.

Charlie stared at him. They both knew how harsh the punishment was for trying to smuggle people into Regalis: imprisonment for the smuggler and the immigrants for the rest of their lives. Going the other way must have been just as bad.

“Yeah,” Ozzy said, “I know. Wishful thinking.”

They waited by the door, and when two of the three guards had climbed into another boxcar, Charlie said, “Now!” They jumped out of the car and ran, away from the train and out into the open field.

Someone shouted behind them. A whistle blew, and more shouting joined the first one.

She took only two steps before something huge and heavy hit her from the side. Arms wrapped around her, deftly pinning her hands by her sides and holding tight. Charlie kicked at the legs of the person, connected with a shin. “Let go!” She yelled.

Ozzy skidded to a stop a few feet away and turned back towards her.

“No!” Charlie screamed at him, “Run! Get away!”

But it was too late. Another guard that had been working from the back of the train to the front was on him. Ozzy was big, but he was bigger, and he had backup.

The guard pinning Charlie down forced her head to the ground, and she took a bite of grass and grit. Pebbles threatened to break her teeth before she turned her head and spat them out.

The guard sitting on her leaned forward. He blew stinking breath into her face, “I recognize this one. She was on the list of possible runaways.”

“This one too,” The guard pinning Ozzy said. “Hold still, you bastard.” He smacked Ozzy smartly in the back of the head before he brought out a pair of handcuffs and began fastening them around Ozzy’s wrists.

Charlie wanted to cry out, but she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.

“You two just hold still,” The guard on her back said, “We don’t wanna hurt’cha, and you don’t want to be late to your party, do ya’?”

Charlie slumped down, limp in the grass. Cold metal closed around her wrists. Ozzy glared at her, anger in his eyes that she had gotten them into this mess.

The next day, she was also on refueling duty, but only for the morning. Then he sent Ozzy up to refuel engines and let Charlie replace a broken piston on a steam engine. She spent most of that afternoon underneath or inside the engine. By the end of  the day, she was sure she was covered head to toe in a layer of grease.

Ozzy found her in the locker room at the end of their shift.

“Harry wants to talk to us,” he said.

Charlie let out a long sigh and rested her head against the cool metal of the locker. The second he had said it, her stomach had dropped so hard she wanted to gag. “We’re so screwed,” She said.

“It's fine,” Ozzy said. “Please stop worrying. You're making me stressed too.”

“You should be,” Charlie growled at him, “this is stressful!”

“You're just doing it to yourself.”

Charlie could have killed him. She gave it serious thought. But Ozzy was stronger than she was, and she would miss him if he was gone. Also murder was generally frowned on.

She slammed her locker closed. “Let's not keep Harry waiting.”

Ozzy led the way down the stairs, calm as ever. Charlie could even see a slight grin on his mouth as he descended them.

When they opened the door, Harry had coal dust on his hands. Sweat stained his collar and under his arms. He rinsed his mouth with a swallow of water and spat it into a pot. He poured water over one hand, then the other, rinsing off the dust.

Charlie and Ozzy stood just outside his office, waiting for him to be done.

“You two,” Harry said, his voice rough with the dust. “Come in. No need to shut the door.”

Charlie stepped into the office and squeezed aside so Ozzy could fit inside too.

Harry scrubbed at his face with his palms. When he pulled them down, his skin was streaked with black and muddy gray, like the coal was casting shadows over him in the shape of bars on a jail cell.

“I’m letting both of you go,” He said.

Ozzy stuttered to a stop. His mouth fell open in disbelief.

Charlie's stomach fell again, but she just sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Can we cash out at the store before we go?”

“Of course you can,” Harry said, “I’ve got your last pay here.” He leaned back and opened the single drawer on his desk, grabbed out two rolls of company dollars. He tossed one to Charlie and the other towards Ozzy. He tried to catch it, but it glanced off the side of his palm and fell to the floor, and he had to stoop down to pick it up.

“Clear out your lockers after you cash out,” Harry said. “Leave your safety helmets behind.”

Charlie had to really try not to roll her eyes. Like hell she was leaving anything behind for the company to use. Harry could send the police to jail her for theft if he wanted to: that would be cheaper than paying for rent. She nodded and said, “Sure. Thanks, Harry.”

For a few seconds, Harry looked genuinely sad. He took a breath to say something, but before he could, Ozzy exploded.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He yelled.

Charlie ducked away from him, covering her ringing ear.

“What is this crap? We’ve done nothing wrong!”

Harry’s look of sympathy vanished. “Don’t do this, Oswald. This isn’t about you or Charlie. It’s just for the good of—”

“Then don’t let us go,” Ozzy cut over him, “We’ve worked here for six years! Six whole years!”

Underneath the coal dust, Harry’s face started turning red. He stood up from his desk and pointed a finger at Ozzy. “I’ve worked here for two damned lifetimes, you little brat! 80 years of hard labor in this railyard! So when I tell you that we are better off without the two of you, I know I’m right!”

“You’re just scared!” Ozzy’s face was red too, twisted up in rage.

“I’m not scared of you,” Harry almost laughed, disbelief in his voice.

“You’re scared one of us is the Steam-Powered Mage! You’re too chickenshit to trust us not to be traitors, and so you’re going to throw us out just so you don’t look guilty!”

Charlie had pinned herself against the office wall to try and avoid them both, just trying to make herself small, but that was a step too far. “Ozzy!” She said. Her voice sounded very small and shaky to her own ears, even though she wanted to yell as loud as them.

Ozzy glanced at her, and his rage broke. His eyes went wide, like maybe he realized how badly he had just messed up. 

Harry said, “Get out. Both of you.”

Ozzy’s eyes squinted up in rage again. “Fine,” he said to Harry, “be a coward.”

He grabbed Charlie by the shoulder and steered her towards the door. It wasn't until they were out the door that she pulled free of his grip.

“Stop a minute,” she said.

“What are you doing?” He growled at her.

“We need to cash out. Give me your pay.”

“Screw that. I’m getting out of here.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows at him, “You're choosing to waste your money to spite Harry? He won't care, you know.”

Ozzy sneered at her, but he handed over his roll of cash before he stomped off into the city.

Charlie went into the company store and converted their last paychecks into common coins at a ratio of two company dollars for one common dollar, and ended up with a grand total of $16. $8 for her, and $8 for Ozzy, if he wanted it. Watching half of their money vanish on the spot wasn’t fun, but she didn't have much choice. After today, they wouldn't be able to get into the company store.

She cleaned out their lockers next. There wasn't much in either of them though. Nobody stored anything there they didn't want to get stolen. She ended up leaving both their protective hats on the  top shelves and leaving the doors hanging open, just in case any of the other laborers cared to grab them. 

When she left the station, Ozzy was gone. Charlie sighed to herself. She went back to her tenement, took a quick bath to get the worst of the grease off, and went to bed.

One of her roommates, Samira, woke Charlie hours later. The room was almost pure black, since there wasn't a window. Even if Samira hadn't just gotten back from a shift washing laundry in nearly boiling water, she would have been covered in sweat from the thick sticky air in the tenement.

“Your man is looking for you,” She told Charlie. She worked up just enough energy to say it sourly, as if Charlie owed her for the inconvenience of even encountering Ozzy’s existence. 

“Thanks Samira,” Charlie crawled from her bed and reached for a jacket to pull over her threadbare shift.

“Yeah. Tip me if you really appreciate it.” Samira said. “Or hurry up and marry him.” and get out of my room. That was what she meant.

“Yeah, we’ll both be gone in a couple weeks anyway,” Charlie said. “And then you can rent my bed too.” Samira didn't make anywhere near enough money to afford two beds at the same time, of course. It was just Charlie's way of reminding her that even if Charlie were gone, she would still be sharing a room with two other people.

Ozzy was at the bottom of the stairs, holding the door open. Outside it was pitch black except for the glow of the railyard in the distance.

“What time is it?” Charlie asked with a yawn.

“I’m not sure,” Ozzy said. “Late. Really late.”

“I guess it doesn't matter,” Charlie said. “There's no reason to get up early tomorrow.”

Ozzy nodded. He was looking down at the ground, not at her.

“I have your pay,” Charlie said, digging it out of her jacket pocket.

Ozzy took it. “Thanks.”

Charlie nodded and just stood there. Waiting for him to say something.

“Charlie,” Ozzy said finally, and he reached a hand toward her.

Charlie wrapped her arms around him. Ozzy squeezed her tight, so tight he squeezed air out of her lungs.

“It's alright,” Charlie said to him.

“I’m sorry for running off,” Ozzy mumbled into her hair.

“I just said it's alright.” She gave him a squeeze. “Do you feel better now?”

“No.”

Charlie didn’t know what to say to that. She let go of Ozzy, but he didn’t let go of her.

“Still angry?” She asked.

“Of course. Screw Harry.”

“He’s scared, honey,” Charlie said. “He’s not trying to hurt us.”

“He’s failing,” Ozzy let her go and stepped back. “He’s just making himself look guiltier.”

“Maybe.”

“Let's walk out to the bridge.” Ozzy said. “I need it.”

“Let me put something else on besides a night shirt,” Charlie said.

“You don't have to.”

“I’ll freeze.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

Her heart melted a little, but she glared at him. “Right... I’m putting clothes on. I’ll be back.”

Ozzy groaned dramatically. He let her go and dutifully held the door open to let cool air in while Charlie ran up to put pants on.

Samira shot her a glare when she came back to the room. “Remember,” She said, “no men allowed in the tenement.”

“I know,” Charlie pulled her boots on, “I won't bring him up here.”

Samira huffed.

Charlie headed back down to meet Ozzy. He looped an arm around her as they walked to the bridge over the railroad tracks. They leaned against the railing there. It was pitch black except for the light of the stars and the rare flicker of a gas light in the buildings and the train station.

“Charlie,” Ozzy said, “I’m sorry I didn't take you seriously about Harry firing us.”

Of course he was: she had turned out to be right.

Charlie hummed. “This is only the beginning,” she said, “I don't think we're going to a party on our Remembrance day.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “You might be right, but I don't want to talk about it right now.”

Charlie nodded. She shuffled sideways until Ozzy put an arm around her and hugged her.

“I know you're scared,” Ozzy said. “But it will be okay. We'll get through it.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Yes you are. It's okay.”

She hated that he was right. It wasn’t even about the trip to Freetown. Charlie just didn't know what she was going to do for the next week. The Railyard and Ozzy: that was her life. Without them, the world lost its spark.

“I just don't want to lose you,”Charlie whispered.

“You won't,” Ozzy squeezed her. “We  promised we’d stay together.”

Charlie turned in his arms and stretched up to hug his neck. Ozzy cradled her face in one hand.

Charlie kissed him. He melted into her with a sigh and kissed her back.

A train horn blared into the night, and they both jumped 

An engine churned through the darkness towards them from the railyard. The headlight swung over them as someone adjusted it, blinding Charlie momentarily.

The smell of winter filled her nose. Mint and pine and spice.

Charlie pulled free of Ozzy and ran to the other side of the bridge. The arcane engine was already growing distant. The glow of its headlight was the only point of reference, and it was smaller and fainter by the second.

“It goes so fast!” Charlie exclaimed.

Ozzy leaned over the railing beside her. He took a deep breath of the lingering smoke. “It must have a special engine for that. There's no way it's powered by coal.”

“It's magic,” Charlie said. “It runs on souls.”

Ozzy made a disgusted face, “it must use a lot of blood.”

“Maybe?” Charlie said slowly. “I don't know how much it would take. Maybe it only needs a few drops a day.”

“No way,” Ozzy argued. “That engine was doing some serious speed. Even magic isn't that efficient.”

“We should have tried to examine it up close while it was here. Then we would know for sure,” Charlie sighed.

Ozzy swept her into a hug again. “It went into the kingdom. When it comes out again, maybe we’ll get a chance to look at it.”

“If we're even here by then. We might be stuck up in Freetown.”

Ozzy made a huffing noise and just hugged her. “It's weird that they let a foreign arcane engine in at all.”

Charlie hummed, but she didn't reply. She was thinking about the trains that left Regalis every day, both foreign and local.

“Ozzy,” she said, looking up at him and fluttering her eyelashes. “Do you want to jump a train with me?”

He opened his mouth slightly in shock, but then his eyes narrowed. “You mean a literal train, don't you?”

Charlie blinked at him, “What did you think I meant?”

Ozzy looked away. In the dark it was hard to tell, but it looked like he was blushing. “Nothing.”

“Your mind is in the gutter today,” Charlie snuggled into him further.

“I can't help it. You're so beautiful.”

Charlie reached up and pulled him down for a kiss. He melted against her all over again. “So you’ll run away with me?” She asked him.

Ozzy hesitated, “Yes.”

“Yes?!” Charlie repeated.

“Yes,” he said more firmly. “I love you. If you're leaving Regalis, I will go with you.”

He had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment, even in the darkness. She could sense the outline of him: every familiar curve and plane of his face next to hers. She had spent so long looking at him in the day that she could picture his exact expression.

She kissed him again, closing her eyes. Ozzy kissed her back, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull away from her. Still, after a minute, he did.

“Come on,” he said, “my roommates won’t care if you sleep with me.”

Charlie wrinkled her nose. The men’s tenement buildings were, if anything, worse than the women’s. Louder and smellier for certain. But she wanted to be with Ozzy more than anything right then, and they couldn’t afford to rent a room for the night.

“Are they going to keep their hands to themselves?” She asked.

Ozzy nodded, “Yeah. I got new roommates. They’re both past their remembrances, so they’re a lot more relaxed than the other ones were.”

“Good,” She found his hand in the darkness and linked their fingers together.

Ozzy’s two roommates were already asleep when they made it to his tenement. Charlie glanced over at them and confirmed they were both older men. They were probably seasonal workers for the lumber yards, and would go back to their families in the small outlying communities around Precipice soon when the weather turned colder. Ozzy had one of the beds along the wall, so he let Charlie lay closest to the wall. He laid facing her. Charlie thought about rolling over to face him, but she didn’t want to get carried away in a room with two other people in it, as fun as it normally was.

Instead, she snuggled back into Ozzy’s chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

 He kissed her neck. “Goodnight,” he whispered, “only 11 days until we can do this every night.” 

“Eleven days,” Charlie repeated. They had eleven days until their Remembrance day, and only one week until they would be expected to board a train headed to Freetown.

That thought banished sleep from her completely. Ozzy soon nodded off, but Charlie laid there for hours, thinking. It was one thing to ask Ozzy to jump a train with her and get out of Regalis. It was another to actually try and leave a kingdom that would be actively hunting them down.