The shelter didn’t have a proper door, just a heavy curtain to keep the heat in. Gyre pushed through it, eye wrinkling against a burst of warm, humid, foul-smelling air. Several large hearths were glowing, banked to save on precious fuel. The interior was one large room, the walls lined with sleeping mats two deep, crowded with filthy, ragged figures. Most of the residents were asleep, huddled in piles for extra warmth, but here and there small groups sat by the fires in quiet conversation or playing cards.

A young woman, standing out from the crowd in her clean gray robe, put down the bowl she was scrubbing in a basin of dirty water and hurried over to them. Gyre raised his head, enough to let the firelight gleam on his mask, and she gave him a quick nod of recognition. She gestured toward another curtained doorway, and he and Kit threaded their way through the press of sleeping bodies.

Beyond the second curtain was a small storage area, backing up against the rock wall of the tunnel. There was a large, heavy-looking box, which shifted sideways with surprising ease when Gyre set his shoulder against it. Behind it was a crack in the stone, barely wide enough to squeeze through, with a glimmer of light visible through it.

Kit raised an eyebrow. Gyre smiled and gestured her onward.

“There are maps of the tunnels,” Gyre said as he pushed through after her, “but everyone knows they’re incomplete. This place was a maze before the Chosen blasted it into a crater. The one thing we never lack for is nooks and crannies.”

“I can imagine.” Kit looked back at the cracked rock wall. They’d emerged into a long, narrow corridor, running at right angles to the street they’d left. “What was that place?”

“The shelter? One of Yora’s projects.” Gyre took a deep breath—the air smelled better already—and started walking. “For people who can’t work in the manufactories anymore, or never could. The bosses just throw them down here to freeze or starve. Yora tries to help them as much as she can. Food and fire is about what we can manage.”

“And you don’t find her charity admirable?” Kit said, catching up to him.

“Who says I don’t?”

Kit shrugged, and for a moment they walked in silence.

“It’s just not enough.” Gyre shook his head. “Trying to save a few people at the edges. There’s always more.”

“You want to do something bigger,” Kit said.

Gyre gave her a sharp look, and she shot back a knowing grin.