The Joliet
In the shabby remains of an old blues bar in Rail City, one of the biggest underground railroad efforts of the Ironworks era operated in plain sight. The Joliet was a Kings' Court operation, run by an unassuming older Accensorite man called Little Ray, and it was far more than a music venue.
The traditional twelve-bar blues songs improvised every night at the Joliet were actually an information-passing method. Kings' Court members roamed relatively free within the Ironworks as entertainers, making them ideally placed to gather intelligence about slave projects and Stockyard movements. The improvised lyrics carried coded messages about shipments, routes, and opportunities for escape. The Ironworks establishment had not yet discerned the network hiding inside the music.
When Little Ray was present, the venue took on an almost supernatural quality. The lights seemed brighter, strings did not break, voices stayed true, and the music amplified on its own from the tiny stage. His voice, the richest bass imaginable, could make the walls quake on the low notes. Small and dark with a thin mustache and graying hair, he was unassuming in every way except when he opened his mouth. Legend held that when someone asked if he had sold his soul to the devil, Little Ray chuckled like thunder rolling and said the devil had sold his King's soul back to him.
Entertainers from across the wastes competed for a chance to play the Joliet. Free drinks and amazing barbecued bar food drew crowds. The audience was always rapt. And the blues songs that made the walls shake were also, note by note, helping to free the slaves who had built them.
The traditional twelve-bar blues songs improvised every night at the Joliet were actually an information-passing method. Kings' Court members roamed relatively free within the Ironworks as entertainers, making them ideally placed to gather intelligence about slave projects and Stockyard movements. The improvised lyrics carried coded messages about shipments, routes, and opportunities for escape. The Ironworks establishment had not yet discerned the network hiding inside the music.
When Little Ray was present, the venue took on an almost supernatural quality. The lights seemed brighter, strings did not break, voices stayed true, and the music amplified on its own from the tiny stage. His voice, the richest bass imaginable, could make the walls quake on the low notes. Small and dark with a thin mustache and graying hair, he was unassuming in every way except when he opened his mouth. Legend held that when someone asked if he had sold his soul to the devil, Little Ray chuckled like thunder rolling and said the devil had sold his King's soul back to him.
Entertainers from across the wastes competed for a chance to play the Joliet. Free drinks and amazing barbecued bar food drew crowds. The audience was always rapt. And the blues songs that made the walls shake were also, note by note, helping to free the slaves who had built them.
