Lady Finley backed up Rip’s assertion. She was one of the few present who had read through the entire book by Marco Polo, at least recently.

She said, “Deep down in the earth, below the lowest level of the Budapest steam vault, he visited an underground city. It was called Almostopolis.”

This led to a discussion between the three leaders of the group, all of whom had attended college and had some classical studies under their belts. Rip listened along, having attended college on another world.

Bixby said, “Is there a Latin or Greek equivalent to ‘almost?’ Why would they call it that? And why would Marco Polo indicate an English word in his text? When was it written, the 12th century?”

“The 14th, I believe,” Sharp said. “If memory serves, he returned on the Silk Road in 1295 and wrote his first book. Sometime after, in the early 1300s, he went down into the Budapest vault.”

“Almost is of Old English origin,” Finley said. “And that means, by extension, it’s Germanic. The roots are alle and mæst.”

Bixby said, “Well, polis is Greek for city, I know that.”

“What’s more interesting,” Rip said, interjecting himself into the conversation, “is how words change meaning over time. I’m pretty sure the Old English usage of ‘almost’ was different than our current meaning for the word. These days, we use ‘almost’ to mean ‘nearly.’ At least we do on my world.”

The three nobles nodded in agreement.

“We have the same usage here,” Bixby said. “So, what did it mean in the 13th century, Lady Finley?”

“Fourteenth,” Sharp said.

“If I am not mistaken, it meant literally ‘all the most.’ In other words, the greatest. So, ‘All Most City’ would be something more like, ‘The Best City’ as we think of it today.”

“If everyone’s through pontificating,” Blair said, approaching the group, “we’re ready to open the door and go inside.”

Rip said, “Ooo, ‘pontificating.’ There’s another five-dollar word. I mean, pound. A five-pound word? That doesn’t have the same impact, somehow.”

She glared at him, then realized he was only teasing her. The expression on her face softened.

“Right then,” Bixby said. “Everyone prepare for entry.”

As one, the team members pulled out Thompson submachine guns and racked the bolts back. The vampires licked their lips, moving to the front of the line. Twig and Chance placed unlit sticks of dynamite in their outer pockets, and took up places next in line.

Rip cracked his knuckles and patted his shoulder holsters with the Webleys and their enhanced ammunition. He and Blair followed, with the two barons behind them and Lady Finley taking up the final position in back.

Blair nodded and returned to the entry mechanism, pressing the last button and completing the phrase. An alarm blared and the giant round door slowly slid outward. She quickly made her way back to Rip’s side.

Everyone tensed as the opening grew wider . . . wider . . .

Then they relaxed when the empty hallway beyond came into view.

“Forward,” Sharp said.

As one, the group moved through the door, stepping over the threshold of a round metal seal.

Among the first things Rip noticed were the walls. Made of brown bricks in the train tunnel and depot room, they continued for a dozen yards before giving way to the familiar gunmetal gray steel paneling he had seen down in Gretna Green.

They marched down the metallic passageway, taking care to step lightly so their footsteps would not echo far.

The sisters stopped at an intersection where the tunnel met another, this one sweeping off in both directions, in a large arc.

“So, this is the main top level passageway,” Sharp said quietly as everyone peeked around the corners and looked down the new tunnel in both directions.

“We are here on the map,” Bixby said, pulling his copy out and unfolding it. “To the left is the Mendicants’ Entrance, where most people who have gone before us came in. To our right is a way down to Levels Two and Three, by what is known as the Grand Staircase.”

Sharp said, “To our right, then. I fear that’s where we’ll find our first sign of resistance, though. Staircases are more heavily guarded than simple stairwells.”

Sharp nodded at the sisters and jerked his thumb to the right. The vampires turned and walked out into the new corridor, their footsteps moving softly across the metal floor. Everyone else followed, maintaining formation.

To Rip’s surprise, the narrow tunnel widened considerably the further they went. Soon, both walls spread out to the left and right and the ceiling soared high above.

The room they walked into looked like a giant dome, with a huge skylight of clear windows above letting in copious sunlight.

Squinting, Rip could make out gears on horizontal windows in the ceiling. Several of them were open.

[Mechanical Discernment] kicked in, and he realized the windows up there could be opened and closed via a control panel down here on the floor. Looking out over the room quickly let him realize why. The space housed a huge garden with fruits and vegetables. The skylights let in sunlight. Evidently, some of the windows were opened during rain showers, to water the plants.

The group stopped inside this giant atrium and looked around for a bit. Twig and Chance seemed stunned at the size of the place. All the women remained unconcerned, as if enormous underground gardens were to be expected in a place like this.

Rip scratched his head and voiced a nagging question.

“How do they hide the skylights? People up top have to notice this.”

“This is inside the steam vault’s walls on the surface, Sergeant,” Sharp said. “And few are ever allowed inside those walls. Regardless, we should make our way to the center. That is where we will find the Grand Staircase. On your toes, everyone. Let’s get there unobserved, if possible.”

Carefully, the girls advanced through the garden. Rip noted it was built in a grid pattern, with checkerboard squares containing the garden plots. Walkways stretched past each square in a grid pattern.

Plots contained different plants. As they walked down the center, he noted fruit and nut trees, rows of vegetables, and wheat in the plots they passed. Warm drafts of air flowed through, heading up to the open windows above.

“It’s effectively a giant greenhouse,” Rip said, musing aloud. “That’s one way to feed everybody, I guess.”

They continued heading down the center, the girls looking each way at all the intersections. Finally, they reached the middle of the enormous space.

Before them, the largest set of steps Rip had ever seen headed down. They stretched at least a hundred feet, sloping into darkness below.

“No handrails,” Rip said. “OSHA would have a field day.”

Here at last they saw another person, their first.

Twig said, “Biter!”

It took Rip a moment to remember that was slang for “worker.”

Hefting his way up the steps, an old man in dingy overalls with a bag over his shoulders crested the rise. He stopped about thirty steps down, and his eyes grew round at the sight of them.

He dropped the bag on the stairs, turned and ran back down two steps at a time.

“Hope he doesn’t trip,” Rip said. “I told you these things are a hazard.”

“Let’s go after him,” Bixby said. “Before he raises the alarm.”

As one, the team surged down the steps.