He pressed his lips together. He had no idea. Where had that hot, dusty day gone? Where hadhegone, for that matter?
There was no dust in Apple. Only stone, glass, and metal. Barely a tree. And no sun beating down, either. He shivered. It wasn’tI’m-going-to-die-within-minutes-without-shelterweather, but it sure as Hades wasn’t hot. Everyone wore odd, puffy garments that covered them from hips to shoulders.
And earlier today… He’d had a plan in mind. Something important. What was it?
Hating his lack of clarity, Piers tensed as the horseless wagons stopped and other people joined him in the center of the thoroughfare. They didn’t remain where he was, though. They kept walking toward the far side to where a small brightly lit striding man glowed pure white in a black box. More strange magic. He studied it, trying to understand the utility. The pedestrians gave him a wide berth as they passed, the kind you gave an unsavory ruffian or a drunkard covered in his own vomit and urine.
Scowling, Piers sniffed himself. Not fresh, but no vomit and urine. It could be worse.
At least the people of Apple looked more or less the same as Thalyrians, except strangely dressed and all seeming to be late for something. They raced by, heads down, many of them holding little rectangles that might’ve been glued to their fingers. No one carried any weapons that he could see, which made Piers itch to hide the sword strapped to his back and the knives in his belt. Were they why people avoided him?
He glanced down at himself. Belted tunic, boots, dust. His forearms were all scratched up for some reason. He worked his mouth from side to side, his jaw sore and aching. Most of him hurt in one way or another. He touched a hand to his throbbing nose. Blood came away on his fingers.
Wondering who he’d fought and why, Piers licked blood off his teeth and spat it in the street. A woman looked up from her rectangle and cringed away from him. She hurried to cross with the others.
Piers watched her go with a prickle of annoyance. He didn’t attract females like his brothers seemed to, but he knew he wasn’t repellant, either. Well, he might be a little repellant at the moment. He’d definitely been in a brawl, and most women didn’t like that.
Wait. Maybe she could answer some questions for him, such as how far this Big Apple extended, and where he could find the person in charge of it.
He leaped after her just as a gigantic four-wheeled wagon charged forward. It swerved to avoid him, screeching. Piers reared back toward the middle where he’d been standing, but another metal cart blared a horrible noise, squealing to a stop just in front of him.
His pulse pounding, he scrambled back to the center island, wondering who’d come up with this aberration of a system. How did children survive here? He glanced at the small striding man. He was gone. A commanding red hand had overtaken the box he was in.
Ah. Got it.
White magic held the horseless wagons back so that people could hurry across this deathtrap. Red magic propelled the wagons forward.
The red sorcery swept the big yellow wagon that almost hit him away, but not before the man inside it made what Piers could only assume was a rude gesture out a half-open window, yelling at him in a language he somehow understood as if he’d been born to it.Get out of the road, asshole!
Piers stared after him. No one had spoken to him like that in enough time for him to forget how infuriating it was. Not only was he a prince now—because his family had gods damn conquered a realm—but he ledarmies.
His brow furrowed. That didn’t matter here, though. In Apple.
Information flashed everywhere, magically appearing and disappearing from building walls and huge freestanding panels. Some of it glowed, as though lit from within by different colored fires. The Magoi here must be very powerful, more favored by the gods than even the magic-wielders in Thalyria.
Been in an accident? Call Mo. Mo’s your man. He’s got your back, especially if yours is broken.
All you can eat fried chicken! Every Friday night at Cluck Cluck’s!
Reading and comprehending another language instantly would’ve been exciting if Piers had any idea what was happening. As it was, the strange ease just worried him.
Could this be Atlantis? Or Attica?
No, Attica lost its magic ages ago when the people there stopped worshipping the Olympians. Their lack of devotion caused their magic to dry up and the gods to abandon them. Only Athena supposedly still cared what went on in what she’d once consideredherworld.
Piers sent off a silent but heartfelt prayer to Athena, the deity his family worshipped above all others. He wasn’t too proud to ask for guidance, especially since he was incredibly lost right now.
He turned and scanned the magic signage behind him.
Broadway is back and better than ever! Go to heartbeatofnewyorkdiscounttickets.com for the best prices the internet has to offer!
New and Used Cars! Delany’s Dealership has what you want at the prices you need! Special deals for veterans!
That last gigantic parchment on the wall had incredibly realistic drawings of the horseless wagons.Cars.
Piers grunted, internalizing the information. They had a name now. So did other things as he looked around. Reading the magic panels somehow helped him tame some of the unknown. Not enough, though. He still felt more lost than found.
A woman ran into the street while cars still moved forward, darting in and out of them like a cricket between hooves. One made a gods-awful noise. Someone yelled an insult, but she didn’t even glance over her shoulder. Piers narrowed his eyes. Did she not know about the glowing-man, red-hand magic? She’d get herself killed.
