Running beside the dirt path is a puzzling river. It is raised off the ground, water passing through what looks like the crosscut of a wooden straw supported by stilts. Additional half straws branch off the main channel, leading to the fields, but no water flows through them.

“Aqueducts,” the General says when he notices me staring. “There’s a dam above us, controlling the flow of the falls. We use the aqueducts to direct the water to the fields, opening and closing channels as necessary. Any overflow carries on past the lower dam.”

From my vantage point, I can see how the dam wall serves as an aqueduct of sorts itself. Its top is hollowed out and holds water supplied by the rest of the aqueduct system, with metal grates laid over the opening so that guards can patrol there with ease. Barely any water from this strange contained river makes it beyond the General’s stronghold. He’s using it all. If the river flowed freely, would it stretch through the Barrel and past Burning Ground? Did its water once meet up with Dead River and supply our pack’s lake?

“As you can see, I have no need to abduct people. Water. Greens. Shelter. Bedrock is a haven, and people come here freely. Your pack-member Old Fang misspoke.”

“You must need hundreds of hands to maintain these fields.”

“Thousands, actually. Last time we counted, Bedrock was nearly three thousand strong.”

“And you haven’t forced any of them into work?”

“If a traveler told you of this place, would you not willingly relocate? Would you not be happy to tend to crops so that your pack would have plentiful food and water?”

I would. Of course I would. This is the type of place I’ve longed to find for ages. But that’s exactly why it’s so disturbing. Flint has never mentioned Bedrock, and he trades all over the wastes. Not even Clay, who spouts lies and bumbles about cities across the ocean beds, has spoken of it. The only explanation is that if they knew about Bedrock at all, they’ve seen it as a place to avoid. And if workers were here freely, they wouldn’t need to be driven into Bedrock in caged wagons.

“I have sent my Loyalists far and wide into the wastes,” the General goes on. “Each time they find a new settlement, they are instructed to inform the inhabitants about Bedrock and extend an invitation to join us in this paradise. It sounds like your pack eagerly agreed—and that a few of them, including Old Fang, did not. Perhaps they got violent. If my soldiers were attacked, they’d respond with force. It’s never ideal, and I will speak to them about this incident, but it does happen.”