The cargo hoist dropped into Foundry Level Four with the screech of ungreased cable grooving into cast-iron drums.
Every ten yards, the cage shuddered against the upright guide rails. It sent plumes of dry lime scale cascading over Ren Vale’s grease-smeared leather cap. He stood with his boots braced wide against the wet iron grating of the floor. His hands gripped the wooden handles of a heavy, two-wheeled barrow loaded with two fifty-gallon drums of blackened waste oil. His rough wool tunic was soaked through with petroleum residue. His face and neck were streaked with charcoal paste to hide the pale skin of a scroll-keeper.
Beside him, Unit Ren was disguised as a heavy freight hauler.
The machine-man wore a suit of stiff, boiled steer-hide overalls that buttoned up to his collar, hiding the copper radiator fins along his spine. His left high-pressure arm was sheathed in a heavy canvas sleeve that ended in a pair of forged iron lifting tongs. Meanwhile, a thick sheet of smoked glass was strapped across his amber sight rangefinder lens. That made him appear like one of the dozens of half-blind fire tenders who worked the melted rock waste water chutes.
The cargo hoist ground to a halt with a shuddering jolt that knocked rust flakes from the overhead beams.
