49: Brice
Brice
The girder was I-shaped in cross-section, and that gave a couple of flat surfaces they could use.
Brice lay on the cold metal, conscious of the space beneath him. Above, and on top of the girder, sat the crumbling stonework, the buildings under which the road ran.
He had to question who’d planned this city. Who built roads underneath eroding rock? These girders only delayed the inevitable.
Deva had spotted this girder in one of Piran’s images, said it would be bigger than it looked. Brice had to admit she was right—but only just.
He glanced along the girder. “You okay?”
Deva nodded. “Been in tighter spots than this. Not like we can fall, is it?”
They both wore harnesses, and were attached to what Deva called ‘safeties’. She said all girders were supposed to have t
