I just added part 2 a little higher in the thread.

Part 2.2! It ended up being a little long.

The ship skirted around the edge of the falls, keeping a healthy distance from the water. Nearer the top, there wouldn’t have been room to fly around behind the curtain of water, but this far down the water was nearly a quarter mile from the cliffs. There was some ambient mist, just as Baroul had said, but Gallin could still see the city right as soon as they got a viewing angle on it.

A dozen huge, flat terraces were cut into the edge of the world, one above the other, like handholds for a giant. Two of them, the sixth and seventh, were densely packed with rough stone buildings, but the rest seemed to be used for farming. There was wheat, fruits, and some crops Gallin did not recognize, although none of the fields looked particularly lush. He saw a few figures walking across the fields, and more milling about in the village terraces. In the center of each terrace, he saw a small entrance that seemed to lead deeper into the earth, except for the sixth and seventh, which each had a huge cave cut back into the earth. The highest terrace held huge sheets of canvas, glistening with condensation, and metal pipes led down to the lower levels. Galling supposed that this was safer than going out to the waterfall with a bucket, but it seemed unfortunate that such lengths were necessary with so much water so near.

Rickety wooden scaffolding provided access between some of the terraces, but there didn’t seem to be enough for all of them. Perhaps the caves led to stairs within the earth, or perhaps you couldn’t get around unless Baroul was willing to bring you somewhere on the barge.

“Here we are,” said Baroul. “The Free City, safe from prying eyes above. Self-sufficient! See those crops growing?” Baroul seemed energized by the sight; his more measured demeanor during the right evaporated before his excitement. “Yes, I do. They seem a little sickly.”

“Well, the light isn’t great under the falls like this. It’s perfectly edible.” “Edible. My favorite sort of food,” said Gallin, glumly. While it was remarkable that this city existed at all, it didn’t look like his sort of place. It was damp, dark, and probably filled with people who never had quite enough to eat. “We’re really going to live down here?” “Of course!” said Baroul. “You can stay as long as you like.” The prince seemed more aware of Gallin’s displeasure with his new fate. “Of course, we may not spend too much time here, considering.”

“Considering what?” asked Gallin.

“Considering that you’re going to restore me to the throne, of course,” the prince replied. “I’ll generously commute your sentence, and you can return to your old life.”

The little twinge of hope ached, particular since the prince’s plan seemed ludicrously far-fetched. “I don’t think there are enough people here to help with that, your majesty,” said Gallin.

“Oh, I know that. But there are people who will help. Your old friends up top –“

“- who know I’ve been exiled,” interjected Gallin.

“- and, of course, my new friends from the other side of the world. You can meet them once we land. I think you’ll all get along.”

As they began the final descent towards a rickety wooden dock on the sixth terrace, Gallin weighed a lifetime living in these damp stone houses against the likelihood of being executed on the surface after the prince’s plan failed.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s meet them.”

Part 2!

Gallin sat quietly in the back of Baroul’s floating barge. Baroul and the supposed ‘prince’ were carefully managing their descent, turning dials and reading gauges, engaging in brief but spirited discussions over the proper speed of descent, and generally being too busy to talk with their stupefied passenger. Gallin could still learn a lot just by observation, of course.

The main thing to look at was the rim of the word, which filled his entire field of view to the right of the barge. It was covered in a sort of rocky crust, with harsh outcroppings like a young mountain range. Gallin supposed that if the edge was simply exposed dirt the whole world would have crumbed ages ago. At first, nearer the top, the rocks had been weathered, and some even had moss or other plants growing on them, but they had bene descending for two hours or so and the face was harsher. Gallin had indulged in some fanciful daydreams about mysterious creatures that could live on the face, perhaps hardy goats or lizards, but there did not appear to be any. Even the vegetation had petered out only a half-hour into their journey. As they descended, they had distanced themselves from the face – Baroul mentioned that rocks sometimes fell from higher up, which Gallin wished he hadn’t been told until they arrived safely at this secret city – and the mist that swirled in the depths was beginning to rise around them. Gallin didn’t really need to know any more about the cliffs, anyway – he wasn’t a prospector. Gallin dealt with people.

The two men up front seemed to know each other well and were working in harmony. Baroul seemed to acknowledge the ‘royal’ status of the other, but only a little. They behaved more as comrades than as master and subject. Baroul’s behavior in general was surprising. Gallin had known him in the city, but hadn’t had much use for him. Baroul had struck Gallin as an expensive plaything of the king, since his inventions were interesting but rarely useful, and he had the air of a mad alchemist out of a story. Voting for his exile had been an easy choice, frankly – Baroul had no allies, no power base, and no defenders once the king tired of him. Gallin had extracted a few concessions in exchange for his vote but hadn’t seen the need to push too hard; it was like banishing a specialized jester. Now, he seemed focused, and he had apparently built the floating ship that was the only thing keeping Gallin out of an infinite void. Supposedly he had a whole city hidden under the great falls. Not a single mad laugh had passed his lips and he didn’t even exhibit his usual fidgety shifting. Gallin had to wonder if the Baroul he had known in the capital was simply an act. A fine one, if it was – Gallin’s job was to notice such things, and he was good at it. Usually.

The other man was another matter. He did resemble the prince that had stabbed him in the back, but not so closely that they could have been swapped for each other without notice. Presumably, the prince that Gallin knew had always been the one from the ‘other side’. He knew that it was custom for princes of the royal house to live most of their early lives apart from the reigning king, but it seemed implausible that some swap had happened without anyone noticing, even so. Gallin was prepared to believe that the prince had been some sort of sinister plotter, since he was such an asshole, but it the whole story didn’t seem plausible. Of course, this was not the time to start raising complaints. He didn’t want Baroul’s sudden compassion to abruptly run out and to find himself flung over the rails.

Baroul then came towards the aft of the ship, leaving the new prince to manage the controls of the vessel.

“We’ve about three more hours to go until we have descended to the level of the city. For now, you should rest. I want to begin our work as soon as we get there. There’s some food in the crates near the back, and some posts you should secure yourself to as you sleep. Make sure you’re ready for our arrival. I’ll wake you before we enter the falls; it can be dangerous.” Baroul then returned to the helm without waiting to see if Gallin would follow his suggestions, and without giving Gallin a chance to respond. It wasn’t really a problem – the forced journey through the desert up top had left him tired and hungry. He opened the crate, which held some dingy-looking bread and pale mushrooms. The strange food made Gallin realize that he would never return to his old, comfortable life in the capital. He wondered if the waterfall people ate like this all the time. Now, he supposed, he would too. Usually, Gallin only indulged in great shows of emotion to manipulate others’ responses to him, but the vision of his old life crumbling away to be replaced with an uncertain situation living under a waterfall brought out a genuine tear. He had readying himself to die for the entire journey from the capital, but he had not prepared himself to live. He forced down some food, secured himself to the damn post, and fell into a troubled sleep.

Baroul awoke him just as he said he would. “We’re approaching the city. Grab one of the waxed jackets from the back – it’s cold, and it won’t do to get too wet during the approach.” Gallin put on a foul-smelling but thick coat and joined the other two in the bow. Straight ahead, an enormous arc of water came down from the surface. The River Garna was the largest in the world, but had no waterfalls up top; this view could only be seen from their current, bizarre position. Gentle lights shone through the water, almost imperceptibly; Gallin supposed they were the lights of the Free City.

“So,” said Gallin, “how do we get in there?”

“It’s simple,” the prince replied. “We simply angle ourselves downwards and dive the boat through the falls. I see you have your waterproof coat already. How strong is your grip, by the way? Wouldn’t want you to get washed overboard.”

A sudden, paralyzing bolt of fear flashed through Gallin’s spine. Only for a moment, of course.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re lying,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Baroul, this guy is quick,” said the prince with a broad smile.

Baroul smiled, just a little. Gallin wondered if he had relished the brief moment of terror. Sure, he said he would help – but even mad scientists living over the edge of the world had to take exile a little personally.

“We’ll go around the side,” Baroul said. “There’s a lot of water vapor in the air; the coat isn’t suitable for complete immersion.”

“Ah well,” said the prince. “I had another fake approach ready to tell him.”

“There can be some sharp maneuvering,” Baroul continued, “so make sure to stay stead and hold onto something.”

Sure, I'll write one tomorrow. Do you want to name the 'Strange Man/True Prince'?

Gallin stared out over the edge of the world. Three weeks before, he could never have imagined being driven out here. He had been living lavishly as one of the King’s trusted advisors, the man who kept the King safe, until the Prince had decided that Gallin was a rival. The King, who in better days would have dismissed such nonsense, literally frothed at the mouth in anger as he banished Gallin. It was twenty days’ journey along the river from the capital to the edge. The caravaners that the King had commissioned to bring him out here had shown him the small mercy of not throwing him off immediately, but there was nowhere to go. The last five days of the journey had been over cursed desert, and he had been left no food. It was either jump himself, or die miserably in the blasted wastes that ringed the known world.

 

Gallin was decisive, but had no desire to die right away. He stood on the edge and gazed down. Perhaps, off to the side, under the great waterfall at the end of the river, he could see the odd auroras that some travelers reported – strange lights that lingered further down the cliff of the world. Some scientists claimed that the lights were caused by the river’s cascade, some thought it was residual spirits being driven from the world of the living, and many more thought it wiser not to guess.

 

Still, the lights were beautiful. Gallin stood and watched the colors dance deep in the great waterfall. He thought that it would be good to stand for as long as he could, and then simply drop off the edge. His hopeless ponderings were interrupted by a bell.
He jumped back. No one lived around here; there was no way for there to be such a sound. He looked around wildly, and continued to do so as a floating barge rose from beneath the edge, away from where he had been looking. Two other men stood on it, one dressed in the style of the capital’s favored children, and the other in loose-fitting garments that Gallin did not recognize. The strange man stood next to an iron bell, which had presumably called for Gallin’s attention.

 

After a moment, he did recognize the first man who wore clothes that were, as it happened, similar to his own. It was his old friend Baroul, once the King’s inventor. He had been sentenced to Gallin’s fate six years earlier, at the start of the King’s madness. Baroul looked at him. “I never thought that you would end up out here, Gallin. You always knew how to talk to the King.”

 

Gallin started to argue, but instantly realized there was no point – his simple presence proved Baroul’s logic. “The King has behaved more and more strangely since you left, Baroul. I thought that I could manage it, but the Prince has his ear more than ever. It may be a passing fancy, however. If you could bring me back on this wonderful gadget, maybe we could talk to him. Together.”

 

Baroul’s face did not change. “I know you voted to exile me, Gallin.”

 

Gallin’s knees suddenly locked in fear. His sheer will kept him upright, but he didn’t think he had too long before he fell.

 

“Ah,“ he said, “that’s just… politics. I didn’t think they’d do… this to you. Anyway, you seem to be doing…great! Thriving. Your complexion looks incredible. Have you been –“

 

Baroul cut him off. “I know that you only meant to screw me over in the normal political sense, Gallin. You don’t have a taste for blood.”

 

“Right! Right! So we can – “ Gallin started to say, but –

 

“Still, I do not forgive easily,” Baroul said. “I will save you, but you must work for me.”

 

“Save me? Great!” said Gallin. No need to be critical of a hand proffered in his moment of need. “Work, though… There’s nothing to do out here. What are we going to do?"

 

“We’ll go to the Free City,” said Baroul.

 

“There’s no such thing.”

 

“Of course there is! I saw you looking at its lights!” Baroul said proudly. “It’s under the falls!”

 

“It looks wet under there,” said Gallin. “You’re saying there are people?”

 

“It’s wonderful!” Baroul said. Gallin recognized this attitude from Baroul’s more speculative projects. “We harvest the water from the falls, and irrigate layered terraces. The change in elevation as one builds down the cliff face allows for a huge variety of crops, and of architecture. You’ll love it.”

 

“Ah,” said Gallin, who was sure that he would not. “What a wonderful situation. May I ask, why the fuck do you want to live on the bleeding edge of the world?”

 

The third man, the one in strange clothes, finally spoke. “Because of me.”

 

“Fine,” said Gallin. “Why do you want to?”

 

“Because,” said the strange man, “the edge lies in between.”

 

Gallin was beginning to wish he had just jumped. “Between what?”

 

“The edge does not go on forever. Eventually, it reaches the other side, the reverse side, where the water of the falls bends back and creates a new land, with its own people and customs, its own crops and animals.”

 

Gallin stared stupidly. “What?”

 

“Down below, there is another land, and Baroul’s city is the only stopping point between that land and the one here.”

 

“Sure,” said Gallin. He hated himself for pushing against his sudden salvation, but he had to know. “Why bother coming up here, though?”

 

“Because,” said the strange man, “I am your true prince. And the man who banished you is from the other side. That is why I know you will help us. Baroul, bring him aboard.”

 

Gallin did not care to resist.