by Jo Anderton
Suited
JO ANDERTON
BOOK TWO OF THE VEILED WORLDS TRILOGY
Praise for JO ANDERTON
“Anderton demonstrates a mastery of storytelling and world building in this series opener that is reminiscent of the visionary works of China Miéville. This accomplished debut novel should enjoy a wide readership.”
Library Journal
“A captivating story set in a brilliantly-conceived world.”
Trudi Canavan, bestselling author of the Black Magician Trilogy
“This is what modern fantasy looks like. Debris is a strong debut novel from a promising new writer, featuring a tough, professional heroine, a clever magic system and a complex, beautifully realised city. I couldn’t put it down.”
Tansy Rayner Roberts, award-winning author of the Creature Court Trilogy, and Siren Beat
“Jo Anderton combines elements of steampunk with her own unique vision to create something striking. Debris is a first novel NOT to be missed.”
Marianne de Pierres, award winning author of the Parish Plessis and Sentients of Orion series.
Contents
Cover
Title
Table of Contents
Analysis of Past Events
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Author
Analysis of Past Events
XLIV-A turned his back on the suiting table as another experiment failed. The body lying strapped there belonged to a forty five year old male factory worker. He’d had negligible pion-binding abilities before they’d administered the precise cranial trauma that had replaced them with an ability to see debris instead. Despite intense treatment his nervous structure refused to attach to the suit, and now the pion bonds that held his muscles and bones together were unwinding; the result of an error in the level of suit shielding, perhaps. He’d be dead within minutes, which was a good thing. He was getting louder.
With a twitch of his fingers XLIV-A deactivated the lamps around the table and instigated initial clean up protocols. A moment later his brother, XLIV-B appeared by his side and scanned the results of the experiment, stored in glowing numbers and words on a small slide.
“Another one?” he asked.
“We are having trouble replicating the success we had with Tanyana Vladha,” XLIV-A answered. “The weaponised debris-collecting suit takes a toll on the bodies of its hosts. Only a few others have survived the installation as well as she has.”
V-B nodded, and together they left the body to complete its noisy dying. They walked slowly through the laboratory, bright lines of data shining up from the slide. It was time for a pause in the experiments – this had been universally and instantly agreed to – so tables were shutting down all around them, leaving the laboratory dark and silent.
“The Vladha experiment requires proper analysis,” V-A said. He flicked his wrist and the data on the slide was replaced by an image. Together, they stopped and stared up as it was beamed into the darkness above them.
Tanyana Vladha; dressed in the deep blue jacket she’d worn as an architect. Small silver bear-head pins shone from her shoulders, denoting the jobs she’d completed for the regional and national veche. A crest embroidered into her collar advertised the university she had graduated from with high honours. Her propensity to dress in trousers and coats rather than skirts unusual, as was her short blonde hair was. Most women of status in the city Movoc-under-Keeper – indeed, the whole of Varsnia – kept their hair long. She had a tense, determined look about her. This was her customary facial expression.
“Tanyana Vladha,” V-B read out loud as records replaced her image. “Was chosen because of her pion-binding strength. She was the centre of a circle of nine binders, and able to gather and command vast numbers of pions.” He referred to the tiny, brightly glowing particles that could be used to unbind then rebind matter. “Thus she completed large and complex commissions for the regional and national veche, from buildings to statues.”
He paused long enough for V-A to make a short note: Connection between level of pion-binding ability and suit integration? Confirm subsequent successful experiments had similar abilities.
“We removed her pion sight,” V-B continued. “Through the usual application of targeted trauma to the brain. To do this we arranged for her to work on Grandeur, a giant statue commissioned by the veche, and orchestrated an on-site accident in which she was critically injured. As well as the appropriate cranial fractures, she sustained significant wounds to the left side of her body, and will carry the scars for the rest of her life. As a result she is now able to see debris instead, the waste product created through pion-manipulation.” They shared a smirk at this, and faint laughter filtered through the darkness around them. Such a quaint definition for something so complicated. “Debris has a weakening effect on pion bonds. If left unchecked it will slow and ultimately unwind any system it interacts with over time. This has necessitated the establishment of a class of debris collectors, and the creation of a debris collecting suit. We installed one such suit on Tanyana Vladha.”
A schematic drawing of the suit flashed across the slide. Six silver bands attached to her ankles, wrists, waist and neck, with a truly complex webbing of deep, usually invisible, nervous, musculature and skeletal connections. The bands were complex in themselves. They were divided into sections. The base ring, about as wide as the length of an index finger, was grafted to the host body. It acted like a foundation, above which the secondary, activator ring slowly spun. The space between the two was filled with symbols that glowed and bobbed in response to the electrical pulses generated by the host’s brain.
The suit enabled the collection of debris. The liquid silver that bubbled up from these bands was the only substance that could actually touch debris. Otherwise it floated free, sliding through all matter as substantial as shadows, either in solid-looking grain form, or as flat planes.
Tanyana Vladha’s suit, however, was different from the usual. That was the whole point. It was the next stage in development, stronger, faster, more closely bonded to her nervous system and brain. This put a far greater strain on her physical and cognitive abilities than most suits did. But it was worth the risks.
“With her suit installed,” V-B was saying, “she was instated into a debris collecting team.”
“A very particular collecting team,” V-A interrupted. “We had already been monitoring certain of its members for some time.”
V-B nodded. “Efficiency is the core of productivity.”
“Indeed.”
They moved on, continuing to read as they walked. Faint lights flickered in the laboratory around them. Lightning flashes of electrical discharge, masses of stored and ready pions, valves, dials and screens.
“Over time, she developed relationships with her new team members. This has helped streamline our monitoring process.” Again, the data on the slide changed to images. The faces of each of her collecting team members.
“Kichlan, team leader.” A man with a wary expression, dark brown eyes and blond curls appeared. “Ex-debris technician, showed promise before losing his pion sight. Despite initial friction, he is growing closer to Miss Vladha. He is the primary carer for his younger brother, Lad.”
Lad looked a lot like his brother, the same eyes, the same curls, but none of the wariness. He smiled broadly. Despite t
he uneven stubble over his chin, he had the innocent look of a child. Lines of red, urgent data flashed beneath his image. V-A and V-B shared a humourless, knowing smile. “Miss Vladha also grows close to Lad,” V-A said. “This has been the cause of some concern, but we maintain a waiting pattern. Action has not yet been decided.”
Several more images appeared in quick succession. The identical twins, Mizra and Uzdal, thin and pale. Sofia, small, stout, and fierce. Natasha with her sharp green eyes, looking disinterested.
“Suit testing then commenced,” V-B read. “Through several staged emergencies we pushed Miss Vladha and her suit beyond the limits usually required of debris collectors. All the while using a debris suit technician, one–” he scrolled quickly through the reams of data to come to a footnote “–Devich to watch and report on her progress.” Both brothers made identical sour faces. “The technician’s performance in this role was far below expectations. Not only did she identify him as our informant, thus rendering him useless to us, he claims to have developed feelings for her and refuses any further assignments.”
V-A made an urgent note, Deal with Devich appropriately.
“The culmination of her tests coincided with the completion of a secondary experiment – the creation of a sentient semi-physical creature out of altered debris planes and grains.” Satisfaction wiped away their sourness. “Success in this area has been a long time coming, but we are pleased with its progress. Debris manipulation continues. The next stage is almost ready for release.”
“We digress,” V-A murmured.
“We do.” V-B nodded. “Let us continue.” Together, not even looking at their feet, they stepped over a series of thick cables that snaked across the laboratory floor. “Miss Vladha successfully harnessed her suit’s abilities to combat and ultimately overcome the debris experiment. However, this was not done according to our protocols.” Anger on their identical faces this time, a terrible anger that twisted their skin. Thick lines like tearing seams formed from nose to mouth and around their usually impassive, mould-coloured eyes. “There was interference.”
“A variable introduced from the beginning without our knowledge. The Keeper.”
The darkness around them seemed to shudder, and a hissing sound rose like mist. The Keeper, it always came back to him. All their problems, all their hard work, all thanks to him.
V-B scanned the data. “It seems the Keeper became aware of Miss Vladha as soon as we removed her pion sight. He used the unique nature of her suit to establish communication with her. He gained her trust, and told her too much.”
They shared a glance.
“Miss Vladha learned the true nature of debris–”
“To some extent,” V-A interrupted. “The Keeper is as interested in guarding the truth as we are.”
“True.” V-B added a note to the data. Best to be as accurate as possible. “She learned that the Keeper is not the myth her people thought he was. The Varsnians tell stories about the Keeper in which he is a benevolent…” they searched for a word “–deity. He is a saviour who holds back the darkness, pain and death brought by his nemesis, the Other.”
“A fascinating interpretation.”
“Indeed.” How entertaining those stories were. “Miss Vladha, like most people in her day and age, did not believe in the Keeper any more. How surprised she must have been to discover that he not only existed, but he was debris. That what she thought was a waste product was actually a physical manifestation of a – what was that term again? – deity.”
“And now inconvenient for us,” V-A muttered. “For once she learned that the debris she had been collecting, and fighting, was actually parts of the Keeper, her interaction with it changed.”
“She became reticent to inflict any violence on it, even after it attacked her city, her companions, and herself. Choosing instead to undo our hard work and return it to the Keeper. She learned that she is able to influence any debris her suit is touching, and can therefore convince it to stop fighting her, become calm and allow itself to be reabsorbed. While she cannot yet understand how she is able to do this, she is certainly growing proficient at the process.”
They arrived at a strange looking silver chair shining beneath a single spotlight, and stopped. V-B lowered the slide. More brothers stepped out of the darkness, all nearly identical. They all wore the same crisp, white coat, shared the same features, the same movements and expressions.
“Conclusions?” one asked.
V-A consulted his notes. “Continue suit experiments, narrow criteria for candidate selection based on pion binding ability.” A collective nod. “Activate countermeasures against the Keeper’s interference in all future suits. We must maintain tighter control on all experiments.”
Sounds echoed through the laboratory. The tread of feet, the rattling of metal, a high-pitched, terrified scream. A few brothers glanced over their shoulder. Most ignored it.
“It is time to elevate the Vladha experiment to a new phase. Let us make use of the variables the Keeper has introduced. Intensify monitoring and send a preparatory signal her suit. If the Keeper thinks to use her against us, he is sorely mistaken. The processes we have started cannot be undone by one woman, no matter how skilled she is.”
A general murmur of agreement, and XLIV-A straightened. There, that was much better. Uncertainties removed, plans made, preparations under way. Just the way it should be.
“In the mean time,” XLIV-B had to shout over the screaming, coming closer. “Let us continue our work.”
As one, the brothers stepped back to make a pathway through their ranks, and turned to watch as their latest experiment was dragged in.
1.
It took me two moons to realise the Keeper was broken.
With hindsight, it should not have taken me that long. But he was the Keeper. He was light to the Other’s dark, he was our guardian against the unknown, he stood before fear and death and he protected us. At least, he should have. Two moons of following his call, however, and I was forced to accept that he was none of these things. Not any more.
Knee-deep in sewerage, hand clamped in Lad’s vice-like fist, I followed the Keeper through the airless dark of a tunnel far below ground. He seemed to like sewers – anything underground, dark and dank, really – and I was beginning to suspect this was another dead end. My debris collecting team had slogged through so much refuse at the Keeper’s command that even our uniforms – that dark, strongly boned material that had never needed cleaning – were beginning to stink. And for all that, he had only led us to small debris caches, not even enough to fill our quota.
“We cannot keep doing this,” Kichlan murmured, just behind me. The tunnel was too tight to allow us to walk three abreast, so Kichlan followed his younger brother and me, close enough to step on the back of my boots. I didn’t mind. It was reassuring to have him near. “We haven’t met quota in moons; how long before the veche come for us?”
I began to agree, but stopped. Lad glanced at me. Neither Kichlan nor I wanted the large, childlike man to know how worried we were about the Keeper. Lad was our connection to him, and Lad was proud of his role.
“I know,” I whispered, once Lad’s attention shifted away. “But what do you suggest?” This was an old conversation. What else can you do when an ancient, mythical guardian comes to you for help? What choice did we have but to follow him?
“This is getting us nowhere–”
“Quiet, bro.” Lad stopped, tensing and tilting his head like he was listening to something the rest of us couldn’t hear.
For a moment I heard nothing but the trickling of sewerage somewhere in the distance. Then Lad gasped loudly. He wrapped large hands around my waist and pulled me out of the water as he spun, shouting, “He says to run!” Then he was carrying me back the way we had waded, grabbing his older brother and dragging him along, barrelling past the rest of our collection team and screaming an ear-splitting warning.
From my awkward position clinging to Lad’s broad s
houlder, I saw the sewer cave in. The walls of the tunnel did not simply crack under pressure, their centuries-old mortar crumbling away, and to my once architect-trained eyes it did not look like the result of a disruption in the pion systems holding the whole place together. Even though I had spent most of my life constructing buildings out of formless stone, I had never seen anything like what was happening in the tunnel behind us. I beat fists against Lad’s back – though he probably couldn’t even feel me – and yelled at the team to keep up with us, to run.
The tightly laid stones were dissolving. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the whole sewer tumbled to sand, to mud, to a rush of air that washed hot over my face. And the fetid water we had been wading through for bells first boiled, then steamed, then seemed to dry into nothing.
“What’s happening?” Kichlan – still being dragged by Lad and just as unable to escape that vice-grip as I – tried to look behind him as he ran, and slipped and smacked his shoulder against the tight stone walls. Lad did not slow down, not even to help his brother.
“Other’s wasted hells!” Mizra held Sofia’s hand – the small woman had enough trouble walking through the sewerage, let alone running for her life – and was bounding through the water, his pale face ghostly in the dim, vent-filtered light. “Hells!”
His twin brother Uzdal was trying to do the same for Natasha, but the usually apathetic woman was moving fast, and doing her best to shake his clutching weight from her wrist.
“They’ll make it!” I hollered to Kichlan. He slipped again, knocked his knees against a raised ledge and barked a curse.
The roof slid down and the walls fell in and countless tonnes of earth piled in after them. We had come so close to being crushed and boiled in all that chaos. The Keeper had, somehow, warned us all in time.
Then again, he had led us down here in the first place.