City of Dreams and Nightmare by Ian Whates

the city with much of its power and water. The Thair which ran through the Stain was very different from the one that entered the city not so many miles upstream. Sluggish, depleted, and carrying with it the biological and industrial effluent of a city of millions, these were the waters that fed the most diseased and shunned corner in all of Thaiburley.
    Things lived in the Stain; creatures that nobody cared to talk about or even think about.
    With a shiver, Tom turned his attention elsewhere. To his right, the Thair’s banks were bordered by beetle-like installations that leached both substance and energy from the river. A little further along, he could make out the viaduct supporting the grand conveyor; the elevated moving road that carried goods to and from the Whitleson factories. With its series of tall archways, the viaduct resembled some multi-limbed creature stalking the streets. At its far end, towards the wall, stood the docks, where great barges and vessels were berthed, loading and unloading the foodstuffs and trade goods that were the city’s life-blood. Clustered around the docks were the Runs – an infamous shantytown of hovels where dock-workers, sailors, beggars, thieves and whores laid down to sleep, or otherwise in the case of the whores and their marks. At the far edge of the Runs, close to the Thair, was an area of the city claimed by the Blue Claw, one of the many street gangs that proliferated in the City Below. Only once Tom reached their territory would he truly be home; although how warm a welcome he could expect from Lyle and the rest of the Claw was debatable, since he would be returning empty-handed.
    Having fixed the layout in his mind, Tom began the descent, making his way down a winding stairway that wrapped around what appeared to be a wide brick chimney. He guessed this was a delivery shaft, similar to those he was accustomed to seeing near the docks. It was through such links between the City Below and the rest of Thaiburley that commerce flowed; although what this particular one might carry, so far from the Thair and the trade vessels that plied it, he had no idea. Of more immediate concern was who might be waiting at the bottom.
    Routes to the City Above were a lucrative source of business and sufficiently rare that they were coveted and often fought over. Somebody would be claiming this as their own and would demand tribute from anyone passing up or down. Tom had nothing to pay with. His ascent and descent had already been negotiated and paid for, but only through a very specific access, set into the city walls and close to his home turf. The one belonging to the Scorpions. This route would be claimed by a completely different gang and he didn’t doubt there was going to be a reception committee waiting below.
    The only thing that offered any hope was the timing of his arrival. He had no idea what hours this particular gang might keep, whether they worked in shifts, were entirely nocturnal or whatever, but anyone who’d been active through the night would be thinking of bed right now, while anyone who worked a dayshift was likely to be still asleep, which meant a skeleton crew below, whose backup would be sluggish to respond; he hoped. If so, all he had to do was get past them and lose himself in the streets. He might just get away with it.
    Tom’s spirits lifted as he made his way down the broad stairway. The tiredness that had dogged every footfall just a short time ago evaporated. Yes, these would be unfamiliar streets, and yes, there was almost certainly going to be a scrap, but he had finally made it back to where he belonged and after all that had happened, reaching anywhere in the under-City was a cause for celebration.
    There were two of them waiting below, which was about what Tom would have expected. As he descended he studied them, when the corkscrew stairwell would allow. He’d already decided on the area to make a beeline for if it came to a chase. A small street market