‘Yes, very good,’ Lady Arek said aloud. ‘As if there was the slightest likelihood that your swineherds would come unarmed.’
We were ready. Probably Rose, Omori and Lady Arek donned their own breathing equipment. Omori and Probably Rose went through the lock first, taking armaments of their own but evidently not feeling the need to show off their capabilities. Omori and Probably Rose stepped off the shuttle, then walked a short distance across the landing area until they were within speaking distance of the reception party.
Pinky and I watched proceedings through the viewing ports next to the airlock. The reception party all had full-face masks on: old-fashioned, leathery-looking affairs with round portholes for eyes and snout-like protuberances where an air hose went in. I had been staring at them for a few seconds before my perceptions jolted. They were pigs’ faces, made into masks.
I started to say something to Pinky, some necessary acknowledgement of this abomination.
‘Save it, Stink.’
A tense exchange was going on between Probably Rose, Omori and the reception party: clearing haggling over the final terms of the exchange. More than once, members of one or both parties turned away, feigning a breakdown in the agreement. But it was all gamesmanship, all theatre. They were never going to put up an objection to the handover this late in the process, and neither were we. But both parties had an understandable desire to see the goods before the trade.
Something was signalled back to Lady Arek. Outside, two of the reception party went back inside the building. A minute or so later, they reappeared with a trunk hefted between them. A third figure had joined them, one I instantly understood to be the Swine Queen herself.
Around her waist she wore a blood-stiffened leather apron, down which hung an assortment of butchery tools, among other objects whose function was not immediately apparent. She was broader and taller than I had been expecting, her armour more ostentatious, her mask more visibly betraying its origins. It was just a pig’s head, mouth and snout, eyes and ears still intact, tilted back so that her masked and goggled face was able to see out between the jaws. If the other masks were made from the faces of hyperpigs, then this was something atavistic, a throwback to the genetic basis of Pinky and his kind. The mask was hideous. Its horror lay not just in the way it was worn, so crudely jammed onto her head, but in the denial it made concrete: that ones such as Pinky or Snowdrop were anything but a small step above the beasts. The Swine Queen had been an abstract antagonist until now, an obstacle we had to work around. Now I saw a madness that needed to be extinguished, a mind gone so far wrong that it was beyond humane salvation.
‘Perhaps we should take the stones by force,’ I said, wanting nothing more than to turn the shuttle’s weapons (which I was certain existed, even though I had not been shown them) against her Swineness and her masked retinue.
‘And then find out there’s nothing in that box except air,’ Lady Arek said. ‘No – my nemesis has thought this through, just as thoroughly as we have. I shall inspect the goods. Follow me, but remain by the shuttle until I signal for you to approach.’ Then, to Pinky: ‘Whatever happens today, you’ve shown a bravery beyond words. If there had been no other point to my life, I would consider myself blessed to have shared this little part of space and time with you. You are the best of us, my friend; the reason that we are worth saving. And I promise you this – there will be justice.’ Then, to me: ‘Bring him back, Clavain.’
Lady Arek went out first, then we followed, waiting as instructed at the shuttle. Slowly and deliberately, Lady Arek drew out a small boser pistol. She held the weapon aloft, cupping it loosely in her semi-opened palm with a finger hooked through the trigger guard. Ready to use in an instant, but not yet aimed at anyone in particular. To be seen to be carrying a weapon was necessary etiquette.
Lady Arek walked to the trunk, now lowered to the ground. The Swine Queen stood behind it, arms folded. At a gesture from the queen, two of the guards flipped open the lid and allowed Lady Arek to look inside.
Lady Arek looked to the queen and mimed dipping her hand into the box. The Swine Queen nodded, her loose-fitting pig mask joggling horribly, and echoed Lady Arek’s gesture in an exaggerated, sarcastic manner.
Lady Arek knelt, still with the pistol dangling from her fingers, and scooped out one of the Gideon stones. She turned slightly so that I had a better view of the upraised object. It looked real to me, but then my only point of comparison was the one inside the stronghold. Lady Arek held it close to her eyes, turning the object slowly. She lowered it back into the trunk, gave the queen a peremptory nod, signalling her acceptance that the goods were not counterfeit.
Lady Arek rose to her feet and stepped back. The guards sealed the box again. The Swine Queen made a quick series of gestures. If she spoke, I heard nothing. Lady Arek walked back to about halfway between the two delegations. Two of the guards followed her with the trunk, then set it down again. Unless there was some spectacular sleight of hand going on, the stones must still be inside it.
Lady Arek turned to me only.
‘They’re good. Bring him, Miguel.’
‘He can walk on his own.’
‘I said bring him!’ she snarled.
Falling into my role, I seized a buckle around Pinky’s back and shoved him in the direction of the Swine Queen. Pinky twisted out of my grip and snarled back at me that he did not need to be encouraged.
The Swine Queen spoke. It was an amplified version of the same rough voice we had heard over the laser-link, but now it emanated from the pig mask.
‘Why all the shoving, lovely? I thought you said he’d agreed to come of his own will.’
Lady Arek called back: ‘That was all well and good a day ago. It would seem second thoughts have begun to occur, in the presence of your Swineness.’
‘Well don’t be tenderising him ahead of time. That’s my job.’ The mask fixed itself onto me. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Not that it matters, but one of my associates.’
‘I don’t think I know him.’
‘There’s no reason that you should. His name is Miguel de Ruyter. He was one of Pinky’s main allies in the move against me.’
‘Funny that you’d trust him with this, then.’
‘Who said I do?’
We were nearly at the trunk. This was the moment I had been waiting for, while at the same time mentally blocking as far as possible. Lady Arek did something very quick and deft with the boser pistol, twisting it in her fingers like a party trick and aiming it not at the Swine Queen or any of her party but at me. She fired.
The yield had been dialled down low enough not to be lethal, the beam at its narrowest setting, and her aim had been precise enough to inflict exactly the damage she wished, and no more. The pulse clipped me in the upper thigh, drilling through flesh and muscle.
I yelped and went down, my leg giving way under me.
I let go of Pinky and he staggered away from me as I hit the floor.
Lady Arek’s shot had caused the Swine Queen’s guards to jab their flame-thrower muzzles in our direction, and one of them let off a quick, sweeping plume, but any further retaliation was curtailed by the queen herself, raising an arm.
‘No: don’t burn them. That was meant for him, not us.’ The mask waggled as she nodded some kind of approval. ‘I take it this man didn’t wriggle his way back into your good offices?’
I writhed and groaned. I still had a part to play, though no part of my performance needed to be forced.
‘De Ruyter was good, until he wasn’t,’ Lady Arek said, with a distant regret. ‘After we spoke, I realised I needed to make a firmer statement about my authority. I have you to thank for that, your Swineness.’
‘In which case, you’re welcome.’
‘Do with de Ruyter as you will. Kill him, if you like, or find some use in him. His loyalty is malleable, as I learned. That may work to your advantage, in the short term.’
‘Nothing tricky going on here, Lady Muck
?’
Lady Arek nodded at my shivering, whimpering form. ‘Does that look tricky?’
‘On balance, maybe it doesn’t.’
‘Have fun with him. I don’t know if your taste yet extends to human flesh, but by all means experiment.’
‘Oh, we will.’
‘Then, if our business is done . . . may we consider our exchange concluded?’
The Swine Queen’s mask gave a twitch of mild affront.
‘In a hurry to be leaving?’
‘A hurry to be anywhere but this dying cesspit of a city. No offence.’
‘None taken . . . much. But we’re not quite done . . . or were you thinking I’d accept your honesty without question? I might be mad, lovely, but I’m not gullible.’ The Swine Queen unhooked a thick-rimmed hooplike device from her waist, a sort of metal lasso. The handle ended in a coil of wire which fed back into a box which she held in her other hand.
Four of the guards reached Pinky and me. They took hold of Pinky by the arms, easily lifting him off his feet, and they wrenched me from the ground with no concern for my wound. The Swine Queen walked up and dropped the hoop over my head and down the full length of my body, the guards forcing my arms tight about me so that the hoop could keep descending. Her mask drooped as she studied a flickering grey readout in the box. The device made a musical tone as it worked, rising and falling in pitch. She repeated this procedure for Pinky, evidently satisfying herself that we were not armed.
‘Take your stones for now,’ she said, hooking the hoop and box back onto her waist.
‘For now?’ Lady Arek asked.
‘You’ve passed the first test. But we’ll want to have a closer look at this pair before we let you slip away for good. Hold your ship on the pad, until you get the say-so.’
Lady Arek directed Probably Rose and Omori to help with the trunk. ‘Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what I need them for?’
‘Something grandiose, I expect. Something pointless. Something that won’t make a difference. You go off and do whatever it is you think will help, lovely. Enjoy yourself. Meanwhile, we’ll be down here noshing our faces off on meat and blood until our brains rot or the lights go out, whichever’s first.’
‘That sounds like a very reasonable arrangement,’ Lady Arek said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They took us into the Swinehouse. Multiple layers of doors closed behind us as we were barged and bullied deeper into the lair. The Swine Queen strode on ahead of the entourage, past jeering and shrieking members of her cult. As they saw her two prisoners, they communicated their enthusiasm through vigorous floor-stomping and the crashing of staffs and weapon stocks against any suitably resonant surface. The only things not being hit or hammered were Pinky and me; even though we passed within easy reach of her swineherds, no one made the mistake of laying a finger on us. There was no encouragement to be taken from that, though. It was just that our flesh was not to be despoiled.
A level beneath the landing stage was a boxy room where we were subjected to further tests, either too complicated or too cumbersome to be done on the surface. Pinky and I both submitted without much resistance: Pinky because he had to give the impression of passively accepting his fate, and me because I was feigning more of an injury than Lady Arek had really given me. True, her aim had been perfect, and it had been suitably painful. But the pulse had gone through soft tissue only, and once the initial shock had passed, some strength and coordination had begun to return to my leg. I masked that by limping and groaning at every opportunity.
The examinations were thorough. We were stripped of our outer armour and then closely inspected for anything concealed. More scanning devices were brought in – some wielded by the Swine Queen, giving us her personal attention, and some operated by various pig-masked acolytes. Everything that was used on us had an improvised look. Fixed and handheld screens were consulted, muffled consultations undertaken. It felt as if we were being given a medical review, rather than being checked for fitness to be detained and eaten. My wound was bandaged up, but it had never bled.
These tests took at least half an hour. The Swine Queen seemed in no rush to conclude them. Perhaps it pleased her to keep Lady Arek sitting anxiously. At last, though, some verdict was reached, the Swine Queen conferring with her lieutenants and, after much nodding of pig masks and muffled exchanges between them, a command of sorts was sent up from the examination room. A level below the landing stage, the only evidence of Lady Arek’s departure which reached us was a rumbling vibration as the shuttle’s thrusters rattled the Swinehouse. Lady Arek had not been certain how deeply we would be taken inside, though, and had promised us that she would arrange a more reliable signal.
We got it about thirty seconds later: the dull chug of those Gatling turrets, responding to a vindictive shot Lady Arek had lobbed back at the lair. It was the retaliatory blast that counted, since we had a good chance of sensing the activation of those turrets. So too would Glass, waiting far below us.
‘I’m surprised she felt the need for that,’ the Swine Queen said, addressing us both. ‘Seems to me she got the better side of the deal. I’m the one who ought to feel short-changed.’
With our breather masks removed, both of us were now free to speak.
‘You don’t think we’re the equal of those stones, your Swineness?’ I asked.
‘The stones are in her possession forever, Mister de Ruyter. That was your name, wasn’t it?’
‘It was my name,’ I agreed.
‘You’ll see the asymmetry, then. I only get to eat and kill the pig once.’
‘I like the way you say “eat and kill”, not “kill and eat”,’ Pinky said. ‘Any chance of flipping that order, since I’m asking nicely?’
‘You’re wrong about that asymmetry, your Swineness.’
‘I am?’
I nodded earnestly. ‘It’s only that way if you choose it. You don’t have to eat and kill him.’ I gave the impression of reconsidering my position. ‘Well, you can – I’m sure your mind’s already made up – but you were never expecting me. I’m the bonus that tips the deal in your favour.’
‘Because you’ll taste as good as the pig? You might not be as nicely aged in alcohol as he is, but we do nosh on men and women sometimes, de Ruyter, just in case you were getting your hopes up.’
‘But you heard what Lady Arek said about me. I was good until I wasn’t. By good, she means useful. A valuable adviser.’
‘Shame there ain’t any vacancies open.’
‘I know about your reach down here,’ I persisted, playing for time. ‘This lair is impressive enough – I like what you’ve done with it – but your control only extends to a tiny part of Chasm City.’
‘Your ladyship didn’t seem to think too highly of the neighbourhood. Why should any of us care?’
‘Care or not, I’m the one who can help you consolidate the power you do have, and extend your reach further than before.’
‘Is he always this weaselly, Pinky?’
‘He has his moments. But I wouldn’t trust him.’
The Swine Queen tilted her mask to look at him. ‘Hang on. I thought you and he was on the same team, against Lady Muck.’
‘True,’ Pinky said. ‘He was also the first to turn traitor, when it became clear I wasn’t going to win.’
‘That said, I like a man with flexible loyalties.’
‘Get back to me when he’s got a knife to your throat.’
‘Ah, but you won’t be around to see it anyway. Now, I am going to make you last, but no matter how slowly I take you, piece by piece, there’ll always be a point where you end.’
‘I should warn you: I’m already well past my best.’
‘Aren’t we all, Pinky – but we won’t hold that against you.’ The Swine Queen clapped her hands. ‘To the Carvery! Sound the dinner gong! Supper’s ready!’
We were strapped onto upright trolleys so that we could be wheeled deeper into Swinehouse and shown off like the pr
izes we were. Grilled masks were fixed over our mouths, just in case we got any ideas about biting or spitting.
As we were trundled along, I was sure that Pinky was doing the same mental calculations I was. With a little warning we could release the haemoclast at any time, but its effectiveness lay entirely in conjunction with Glass’s infiltration. If we went too soon, the haemoclast would cause a little local havoc but burn itself out before Glass had time to locate us. If we waited too long, we might get killed out of sheer expediency once the Swine Queen knew she was under attack.
Not yet, I told myself.
The Carvery was some way beneath the examination room. We went down ramps, down spiralling corridors, down slow, whining elevators with scissoring doors. At all points there was a gathering throng of hammering, stomping and braying swineherds. Some of them had full-face pig masks on, but as we voyaged deeper into the lair I mapped a hierarchy, with the full-face masks clearly being the relatively elite who were allowed onto the upper floors and permitted into closer contact with the queen. Beneath these trustees – her inner retinue – were several subordinate ranks, where the herds wore partial masks, covering only a portion of their faces. The most numerous had no masks at all. They were all of them damaged in some way: scarred, broken-toothed, cankered, white-eyed. Many of them had a permanent drooling madness, a cackling delight in how low they had come. Some of them shook and gibbered – some bad thing had got into their brains.
The Swine Queen had missed the one weapon I carried about my external form, just as she had missed the equivalent adaptation on Pinky. She could not be blamed for that. Our weapons were tiny and nearly useless. Mine was a slightly barbed nail on my second finger, fixed over my own. I had hidden it by closing my fist. The worst it could have done was puncture an eye or gash an artery: bad news for the one person I reached, but no use at all against massed captors.
I tested it against my palm, unseen in my clenched hand. All I had to do was break the flesh.
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