Hafsida’s split in two, with the northern half being Asthafsida—which means east sea side, as Nordhafsida means north sea side—and the south being Sudhafsida—south sea side. I never scouted Nordhafsida that night, but started in Asthafsida and made my way south into Sudhafsida. You’ve got to go past a spoke of the Torc to get to Sudhafsida, and it’s a spoke I’ve always been somewhat interested in, on account of it’s the only one what has a drawbridge in the centre of it. It’d have to so’s the ships being built in the water by Sudhafsida’d have access to the larger ocean. That must be a good spot for ship building, though, on account of the Torc providing shelter from the elements. I had a time of it, staying unseen as I crossed the Avenue of the Sea, what used to be called the Avenue of Njord, which is the one what runs up to that spoke. It was lit up like daytime, more’s the pity, and busy as any avenue ever got in the city after the fall. I had to wait for at least fifteen minutes for a break in the traffic, and then it was a terrible risk, running clear out in the open for anyone to see. I thought my heart’d hammer right out of my ribs I was so scared, but it was worth it on account of I got a good look at the three new ships they were building beyond, and no one seen me after all. I’d not come to these docks for a few nights, and ’fore that I weren’t coming regular-like, but I’d a sense for how fast they were building. Seemed to me they finished a ship every other day. There must be going on thirty ships beyond the Torc, if they were still waiting around. Maybe some of them’d already set out for whatever their target was.
What I’d do with the knowledge, I’d no idea, but it seemed fair important to have it, all the same. So when I reached the boundary ’tween Sudhafsida and Sudbattir, which lines up with the southern-most spoke of the Torc, I was satisfied I’d seen my fill for the night. Course, that side of Sudhafsida’s fair darker’n the rest, and if you continue on into Sudbattir there’s no more lights at all, so I’d found my shadows again and was feeling good about making my way back to the palace. I’d been prowling for most of the night by then and I was fair tired. The sun’d be up in a hour and it’d take me longer’n that to get back, so I knew I’d have to take the tunnels.
I was just about to turn from the docks to find the nearest shaft to the Undergrunnsby when I seen something sliding through the dark water like an eel. It gave me the worst shiver, for it looked like nothing natural, it was so large, and it was silent as death. A cylinder thrust from the water first, then the crest of its back. It rose from the sea and water washed off it, making the only sound what come from the thing; the sound of waves rushing against each other. It was huge. Long as a row of shanties in Mosstown. It come up along an old pier, and then a metal cap on top of the cylinder popped open with a hiss.
Only one old lamp on the pier lit the area, so I shoved myself in the angle of what’d once been a doorway of a building, but was now a ruin. I got most of my body behind the rubble, though a sharp eye’d see my left shoulder and arm, if it was lighter out. I tilted my head so’s I could see the thing in the water and whatever was coming out of it.
Three figures, dressed in dark clothes, followed by two more. They climbed out of the tube and stood up on the back of the thing. I knew it for a ship, of course, and I suspected it was one of them submarines, what I’d only ever heard about from Ivarr ’fore now. Thinking of Ivarr made my heart tighten up so bad I almost gasped. I almost never thought of him no more, and it was a shock when he slipped into my mind that way.
Two of the first figures embraced each of the second two. Some sort of farewell, I reckoned. Then the second two climbed back into the cylinder as the first three jumped from the back of the submarine to the pier. As they passed under the dim lamp, the light caught the flaming red of the hair on one of them. It was flowing in waves round the person’s face, and I didn’t need to see her features to know who she was. I’d remember that shade of red anywhere.
Myadar Sölbói’d come back to Helésey.
Part 6: Ginna’s Hope
So many things went rushing through my head, once I recognized her. Myadar Sölbói, formerly Raud Gríma. The reason the underlings rose. The cause of the Great Uprising, and the city’s fall. She killed Eiflar the Heretic and Galmr the Profaner in two shots of a tiny poisoned bow. They tried to hang her but the scaffold broke as she fell. There was folk in Mosstown what spoke of her in awe, and others with fair bitterness, but no matter what, everyone knew her name.
I couldn’t make out much of the two who were with her, except I could tell they were both men. The three of them jogged into the dark streets of Sudbattir like they knew where they were going. I followed, taking extra care not to be heard.
Myadar Sölbói. Why’d she come back? Hadn’t she done enough damage ’fore she left?
Course, I’d thank her well enough for killing Eiflar and Galmr. The world was a better place for their passing from it, and no mistake.
But she’d left us leaderless, in chaos, and the city after the fall’d been no good place for any except maybe the slashers and bosses, and I had my doubts about the latter considering most of them’d died at Atli’s dinner. That woman—Embla—had died in the tunnels on account of Myadar Sölbói. Gram’d died on account of her.
If she’d stayed—if she’d stayed on to lead the rebellion she’d begun—where would we all be now? Maybe Dag and Ótti’d still be alive. Maybe Rokja and Mum and Amma’d still be here. Maybe I’d never have sold myself to Gaddi and Ivarr’d still be my friend.
That thought put lead in my shoes, and I stopped following, letting the three of them disappear into the darkness ahead, turning from the street they were on into some alley.
It weren’t Myadar Sölbói’s fault Ivarr weren’t my friend no more, and I knew it. Only one person was responsible for that, sure enough, and she’d best be getting back to the palace ’fore daylight broke and made it hard to find a good spot for changing out of the mask and vest and back into a nice dress.
I wondered where Myadar and her friends were going, and what they were doing back in Helésey, but I suspected I’d find out soon enough. I was right, only I couldn’t have predicted the how of the matter, more’s the pity.
~~~
Raud Gríma couldn’t return to Helésey after an absence of over a year without people noticing. It made no difference I’d been wearing the mask and vest for more’n a month, it weren’t ’til Myadar come home that the rumors begun to fly around like swallows in spring. Course, it helped that Officers were coming up dead left and right around the city.
First I heard about it was the morning after I come home from spotting Myadar and her friends. It was something of a boon, in the end, for me at least, ’cause from the moment I come back into the apartments Leika ignored me like I weren’t there at all. I was fair sure she intended to throw me out by the time the mail come the next morning, on account of when the robot brung me the tray of letters Leika said, sharp-like, “I’ll have Oskmar read it.”
Course Oskmar was a robot and she weren’t programmed for reading letters, and by the time the robots’d figured out some way to do what Leika asked of them Leika’d lost all patience and ordered the first one to give me the tray after all.
So I read through the first four letters what weren’t nothing new—Jarl Ormi wrote he thought that Áleifer was the right choice for High Vigja, and he wondered if Leika’d come to a decision regarding her choice, in that order—Jarldis Stynfridr announced the arrival to Helésey of her eldest son, Gegnir, who, according to her, was a fair god of a man who Leika must meet at once—Jarl Sölbói wrote that he intended to pay a visit that afternoon, and I made a mental note to find myself elsewhere—and Vigja Grumi, a lackey of Áleifer’s, wrote to say that Leika must be sure to listen to Áleifer’s radio speech that evening on account of he had had a vision concerning her especially and would be speaking on it then. Come to think of it, she never did listen to that speech. The fifth letter bore Group Leader Úlfketill’s seal, and I broke it open and read it.
Your most g
racious Majesty, I regret to inform you that I have, by necessity, called off the search of the city’s tunnels, due to the shocking and unforeseen deaths of four honoured Officers of Tyr, murdered in these last twenty-four hours. As I am sure you must agree, all resources must be redirected into the investigation of these heinous crimes and the apprehension of their perpetrators. Signed, yours in loyalty and Tyr’s grace, Local Group Leader Úlfketill.
Leika gasped and knocked over a glass of water, and three robots what stood about in the dining room from having been summoned for the letters all went into a fit of cleaning and getting in each other’s way. Leika only got worse as she had me read the letter over two more times, ’til I had to order the robots to clear the room and I got Leika to breathe and have a sip of tea. I wished for brandy but it was the morning after all, and I’d do no one any good getting her into the habit of drinking in the mornings.
“We don’t know what he’s saying, your Highness,” I argued, though my thoughts were on Hardane, my brother the Officer. Was he one of the dead? Leika stopped her moaning; it was the first thing what seemed to make any impression on her. She peered at me like I’d said something in a foreign language. “What I mean to say is, we’ve little or no information in his letter. Only that four Officers were killed. He seems to say more’n one person done for’em. Not Raud Gríma, but several killers.”
Leika blinked her eyes at that. Then the next thing you knew she was dictating to me and I was in a panic to find paper and pen, not having a robot to send for them.
Finally I got her letters down, wishing I’d talked to her about the typewriter again. She sent one copy of the letter to every Local Group Leader in Helésey. She wanted a full report from each, “as pertained to the recent killing of Officers of Tyr.”
Out of the sixteen Group Leaders—one for every district in Helésey—five sent reports back ’fore nightfall. They listed the victims, and Hardane’s name weren’t in the list, though I’d not wonder if he’d changed his name somewhere along the line, just to be contrary. The reports stated that it seemed someone was taking it upon themselves to murder as many Officers as they could, and no one’d witnessed who it was. By lunch the next day we’d got some four or five more reports, and there’d been three more killings. A band of Officers’d be walking down some avenue or other and then crack! One or two of them’d fall dead to the ground, a bullet hole in their head or chest or some such.
Soon enough it was the talk of the palace, for it weren’t just the first half-dozen Officers killed, but a dozen in the first week, and by the end of the next ten-day, some nineteen Officers were dead. More’n one was some jarl’s son or some jarldis’s brother, don’t you know, so’s there were plenty of courtiers distressed personal-like by the situation, which I understood well-enough. I still felt a cold bitterness towards Hardane for joining up like he had, and this danger only made that worse, but every time I read the names I held my breath and never breathed ’til I knew he weren’t one of the dead. Course, every one of them what lost someone wrote to the konungdis about it, or demanded a personal audience, all of which we denied.
Leika weren’t interested in receiving hysterical courtiers, and I’d no need to see her upset by them either, but she did order Úlfketill and the rest of the higher up Officers to devote most of their resources to finding the shooter or shooters. I’d a notion they’d turn up nothing at all, and sure enough, they never did. It was a strange thing, to have seen Myadar and her two friends in the dark that early morning a day or two ’fore the killings begun. Though it seemed a sure thing she was behind it, I was surprised to think she’d turn to killing in such a direct way. I expected to see messages painted on the walls of buildings around the city, for one, on account of that was something she used to do, but there weren’t none, leastways in the first few days after her arrival. After them first days and the second round of reports what told of more and more killings, Leika’d not let me leave no more, her being sure Raud Gríma was on a rampage in the city and I’d be killed next. Sweet of her to worry, except it seemed to me I was safer in the night streets than in her’n apartments.
I’d also expected to hear something or other about stolen trucks and the like, on account of Myadar’d been big on stealing trucks and such from the military back ’fore the city fell. But nowt like that appeared to be in the works, either. It made no sense to me, why she’d come back just to start murdering Officers. Did she hope to kill every last one of them? Did she know how many of them there were? I weren’t sure, myself, but it numbered in the thousands, if you counted them what were in the military base. The bulk of Leika’s army was still spread around the mainland, best as I could figure from her letters, though. Did Myadar think she could murder all of them, too?
So it was that the courtiers all confined themselves to the palace, and it begun to feel like we were in a siege. Leika never left her apartments anyway, but I’d become accustomed to my night prowls, and I felt like a rat in a trap. I took to wandering palace corridors when I thought I’d lose my grip on myself in the apartments after a while. It was during one of these outings that they grabbed me.
The one thing about it that was gratifying was I finally put a name to the mystery of who wanted to kill me. It never was Reister Sölbói after all, unless he somehow put Áleifer up to it. But I reckoned not. Áleifer was plenty of a nasty piece of work, all on his own.
It was novices of Tyr what cornered me as I was making my way two floors below Leika’s apartments to a wide balcony which was one of the only places in the palace what let a person go outside and get some air. I was wearing one of the sleeveless dresses Leika’d given me and carrying a wool wrap, and just as I was settling the wrap around my shoulders, it happened. Quicker’n a blink—one moment I was walking with a purpose towards the balcony, the next they’d surrounded me and one of them pulled a black bag over my head. I started struggling hard as I could, lost the wrap as someone yanked it from my hands, and I even seen red, but then I felt what had to be a gun in my ribs, based on how hard and cold it felt. That sent the red into the corners of my eyes quick enough, for fear seemed to win out over rage when it come right down to it.
They marched me along, two of them on either side holding my arms, and I reckoned one of the two had the gun, and then I felt two more muzzles in my kidneys and knew they weren’t taking no chances about it. I heard lift doors close and for one wild moment I thought they’d put me back in that Lukan device to die, but the guns were still poking me and hands still gripped my arms, and I realized they’d all come along. The lift sank and after a few moments I heard the doors open again, and we were on the move. I could tell from the way the sound of our footfalls changed that we were in some large room, probably with high ceilings. A few minutes later the cold night air hit my bare arms and seeped through the thin silk hose on my legs, and I knew we’d left the palace behind, probably going through the Grand Hall itself to do it. I wondered if anyone’d seen us. I’d not be surprised, and in fact it was the kind of thing Áleifer’d plan with a purpose, just to let anyone watching know they’d best be wary of crossing the Temple. In any case no one’d presume to question the actions of a bunch of Tyr’s novices, wouldn’t you know.
Outside the palace they marched me on some more, and I knew I was done for. They’d made a show of me, most likely, but they’d not murder me in plain view of everyone. No. Better to do it in some dark alley, quiet-like, and leave my body in the sewers for no one to find for some time. I found that despite everything, despite not wanting nowt for myself no more and not having no one I loved in my life no more, I’d no wish to die. So I started thinking on how I’d fight them, and when the best time to strike’d be.
Except I never got the chance.
Crack. Crack.
Gasps and hands what were holding me jerked—and then let go. A commotion of voices, desperate, distressed voices, all around me, the young men, the novices, saying things like:
“By the Hand!”
; “Tyr preserve us! Nollarr! Someone give me some help here!”
“Did you see which way the shots came from?”
“Merciful Tyr!”
I grabbed at the bag over my head and yanked it off just as—
Crack. Crack.
One of the novices screamed as a red splatter of blood flew from his chest and he went down fast and hard. Another screamed when he seen it. Four’d gone down, one still moving, moaning, and three still standing. One was trying to help the moaning one; Nollarr, I imagined.
“Run!” bellowed one of the other two. “Leave him! We’ll all be killed!”
The other two ran, but the one helping Nollarr froze in indecision.
I tore my eyes from him, looking up, searching for a sign of the shooter.
Crack. Crack.
I looked back at the two of them. Both dead.
My head felt like it was filling with air, and my ears started to ring. My fingers curled into fists and then uncurled, curled again, uncurled. My breath come from my lungs in gusts, and I stared at the bodies of the five what lay on the street around me.
My shoulders twitched like I could feel the bullet ’fore it hit me. Run to safety! my mind screamed at me. All I could do was stand there staring at the growing pools of red. I’d not seen a slaughter like this except when I was the one what’d done it, and I’d felt ripping different about it then.
“Ginna.”
My eyes went wide but I froze in place rather’n turn round to see the speaker. It couldn’t be.
After the Fall (Raud Grima Book 2) Page 26