The Future's Mine

by Leyland, L J

  Their young sons (only sons, not daughters; what would be the point in that?) are trained up for office and given all the privileges they desire. They are undoubtedly the worst type of Parrot. The assistants are given special ‘tasks’ that they work on for six months under the guidance of the Mayor until they ‘graduate’ into becoming senior officials who are solely responsible for the future management of that area. This lack of accountability often leads to the assistant turning tyrannical. They see their tiny portion of power as being given the right to terrorize anyone who unfortunately falls within their remit. Once they graduate into senior official status, it only gets worse.

  There was one particular assistant that I wished a painful death upon. My wish came true in the end. This assistant’s task was to modernise the munitions factories at a time when the threat of invasion from the Americas was very real. Matthias wouldn’t play ball with his new regime of eighteen-hour working days, no breaks, corporal punishment, and deregulation of safety measures. The assistant sent heavies to frighten Matthias’s grandmother who quickly fell into madness brought on from anxiety and stress. She has never recovered.

  Matthias kept up a campaign of low-level disobedience for a month until one day, the assistant fell into one of the metal pressing machines during a late-night shift. Matthias had been working on that shift. I’ve never asked him what happened. He has never spoken about it. Not knowing whether Matthias could have been responsible frightens me a little but I’d never tell him that. The official inquiry returned a conclusion of ‘accidental death’. Perhaps they realised that the atmosphere was just as combustible as the munitions, should any other verdict be returned.

  It was puzzling as to why one of these assistants would help the deranged woman I saw in front of me. The assistants only had time for themselves and other Bluebloods, never the poor or the sick. Even more puzzling was the fact that this assistant was blatantly flaunting the Mayor’s wishes by helping his secret daughter. Why was he deliberately disobeying orders? Why was he risking his neck for her?

  What did he know?

  Chapter Nine

  The clock struck seven thirty. After changing my uniform to a clean one without the stench of dead animal, we lined up outside the kitchen and were led back to the Grand Hall. The Hall glowed with a magical light as we approached it; the crystal panes scattered rays of moonbeams and starlight onto the grass. A peacock called lazily and strutted across the crystal entrance, his sapphire tail sparkling. Once again, I let the waves of warmth tingle through me. I closed my eyes, inhaled the sweet scent, and walked in. When I opened my eyes, I got my first look at the Metropolites, the oppressors, the reason for so much misery, and was initially disappointed. However, the more I looked at them, the more uneasy I became.

  The youngest one followed me around the room with his eyes, like a spider tracing the route of a fly. His gaze wound me in as though he had me dangling on a string of his web. I shuffled into the corner, hiding behind our tutor, hoping to stop his gaze but still he stared as though our tutor was transparent. I felt exposed and vulnerable. Idiot, don’t let him get to you. With a huge effort I stepped into full view and stared back with as much insolence as I could muster. He didn’t even flinch.

  I realised then that I wasn’t dealing with the normal type of Parrot. These were the masters, not the monkeys. A beautiful golden bird with exotic feathers sang a woeful song in a cage that dangled next to the table. The poor creature looked so unhappy behind the cage bars; it shook its clipped wings and a few feathers drifted to the floor. Its voice echoed loudly around the glass room as it pleaded for its release.

  ‘Excuse me,’ whispered the spidery Metropolite in a strange accent.

  He walked to the cage, opened it, and pulled the bird out. It sat tamely in his hand, grateful towards its rescuer. Its brown eyes looked up appreciatively. With a crack, he broke its neck. Its head swung limply from his hand.

  ‘They carry disease,’ he said, dropping it back into the cage and returning to the table.

  My stomach lurched sickeningly. They were anonymous in their Metropole uniforms of dark blue suits; two of them wore spectacles and one had a sharp, black moustache. Perfectly normal on the surface. But it was their eyes that gave them away. Reptilian eyes, cold and unfeeling. They were the type of men to casually sign a death sentence and enlist someone else to do the deed to ensure their hands remained unstained.

  The Mayor’s face broke into a lunatic smile. ‘Never liked that bird anyway,’ he said.

  My God, that man would let the Metropolites slit his neck if he thought he would be rewarded for it. My fingers itched towards the knife in my apron pocket.

  ‘Service, now,’ my tutor whispered to me and I pushed all thoughts of murder to the back of my mind. Dish upon dish came out from the kitchen. The Metropolites wore masks of icy distain. Obviously the best Brigadus had to offer was not good enough for them. Or perhaps they secretly eat only human flesh, I thought viciously.

  But to me, the feast was spellbinding. There was a scandalous amount of food for only four people. The table groaned with the weight of the extravagant feast. It was all I could do to stop myself drooling as the scent of roasting poultry filled my nose. Guinea fowl stuffed within chicken within turkey within swan. Birds I could only ever dream of eating. A whole roasted stag was stretched out across the table. It made me sad to see such an impressive beast brought so low as to be prostrating itself before the Metropolites. Its antlers formed the centrepiece from which ropes of strung apples, pears, and grapes hung like Christmas baubles; an undignified death for the majestic creature.

  There were fish pies with whole tails of salmon sticking out from the buttery pastry, as though the salmon simply could not help diving head first to their death. Mountains of roasted potatoes and parsnips were glazed with sticky honey so that they glistened like nuggets of gold in the warm lamp-light. I steadied myself against the serving table. The rich smells were too much. A lifetime’s diet of limp mushrooms, foraged greens, and soggy fish hadn’t prepared me for this.

  Fluffy, palm-sized birds were released into the crystal pavilion of the Great Hall to serenade the guests whilst they ate. I worried for them as they perched sweetly on chairs, tables, and the harp. My eyes darted to the cruel hands of the Metropolite and I ushered the birds away from him as inconspicuously as I could. Butterflies flitted in between the exotic flower arrangements and settled picturesquely on the golden surfaces, as beautiful as living paintings. A young cherubic child, dressed in a golden ruff and tunic, played a melodic tune on the harp. The high notes reverberated in my chest.

  My eyes found the Mayor and my heart filled with pity. All this beauty for what? This was the best Brigadus could muster and yet, the Metropolites still looked as though they had seen better. They picked at their nails and tightly smiled at our efforts which had failed to achieve their high standards. The Mayor’s grin was beginning to falter. His gums were bright red and his eyes were bloodshot.

  As we laid the table for the dessert course, the Mayor’s eyes darted from dish to dish. Saliva pooled at the corners of his wormy lips. He was trying to decide which delicacy to demolish first. The sophisticates from the Metropole picked daintily at the dishes, never taking more than a spoonful from the plates. They probably ate this well every day. They ate with great care, ensuring no crumbs ruined their smart suits. The Mayor’s expression was pained: I sniggered as I saw he was secretly having an internal battle with himself. He desperately wanted to cram as much food into his belly as possible but didn’t want to come across as a crude provincial.

  With the Metropolites focused on cutting their pears into tiny slivers, I saw the Mayor’s piggy eyes dart from side to side. Seeing the coast was clear, he closed his sausage fingers around a delicate bun topped with saffron. He concealed it inside his jacket pocket and smiled smugly to himself. There was no need for him to steal food; he had all the food he ever wanted. I suppose it was the feeling of taking something illicitly which w
ould make the roll taste all the more sweet to him later on. The smugness on his face made me burst into laughter that I quelled just a fraction too late.

  The Mayor and the Metropolites turned to look at me. The young Metropolite smiled as though I had handed him a gift. He had obviously seen the Mayor take the roll and was thinking exactly the same as I was – what a gluttonous slob the Mayor was. I gave a small coughing fit in a feeble attempt to pass off the laughter as an ailment but it was too late. The Mayor had his eyes trained on me with a look of pure loathing that slithered inside me and turned my blood cold. The Metropolite then did something which sealed my fate.

  He readied himself like a lizard stalking its prey, stretching out his bony fingers and licking his lips with his thin, pink tongue. With a smirk he turned to the Mayor and said in very precise English with a cold mainlander accent, ‘This food really is delicious. You really must try one of these saffron buns, they’re very tasty.’ The three Metropolites began shaking with suppressed superior laughter.

  And there it was. Their open contempt and distaste for the Mayor laid bare for all to see. The Mayor was no fool. He knew that they were laughing at him. He tried to hoist his mouth into a gracious smile and said, mollified, ‘Thank you, but I’m feeling quite full,’ which only further ignited their mirth.

  ‘Please excuse me,’ said one of the bespectacled Metropolites. He headed to the harp as though to inspect the instrument but everyone could see his back shaking from the effort of concealing his laughter. His occasional snorts puncturing the growing silence.

  Our tutor ushered the serving girls towards the table, trying to create some hustle and bustle to conceal the awkwardness of the situation but the damage had been done. I hung back, next to the cutlery table, pretending to count the spoons but my face was getting redder, and hotter. The Mayor would not stand for being openly mocked by one of his inferiors and I knew my laugh would not go unpunished. I fought the urge to flee, which would only make things worse. I chanced a look at the Mayor and was surprised to see he had left the table.

  His face was blotched a ruddy red. His double-chin wobbled grotesquely as he tried to suppress his rage so as not to betray his true nature to his sophisticated guests from the Metropole. The Mayor and the Metropolites were polar opposites – fire and ice. Both deadly but at least with fire you could feel the pain straight away. Ice was insidious and underhand.

  The Mayor was stood by the great crystal doors, raging at Owl, the Parrot who had mistaken me for a server. My heart beat out an uncomfortable metronome. The Mayor turned to point at me and I could see Owl shaking his head frantically.

  ‘It wasn’t me, I didn’t employ her!’

  That disloyal rat . After I had helped him, how could he turn me in like that?

  The heat and perfumes emanating from the lamps were becoming poisonous to me. I could feel my throat closing uncomfortably. I fought to keep a clear head. The Mayor closed his fingers around the back of Owl’s neck and steered him towards the door. ‘Bring me Joan,’ he hissed, struggling to contain his temper and threw Owl out of the room by the neck.

  Musicians rushed to the far end of the hall and began playing a light-hearted melody to distract attention away from the Mayor’s growing rage. The Metropolites politely gathered around the musicians but their cruel eyes still danced with amusement. The Mayor tugged his jacket around his barrel-belly, desperately trying to conjure some of the cool composure that came so naturally to the Metropolites. He licked his hand and then smoothed his grey straggles over his bald head in an attempt to look less shoddy. It’s hard to imagine how one so ugly could be so vain. Why bother? He had already been exposed as the oaf everyone knew him to be, there was no point in trying to disguise it.

  My hands shook with fear. Just get out now, just go.

  I scanned the room for an exit but the only doorway was the crystal gates that the Mayor stood in front of, waiting for Joan, whoever she was. I pushed one of the glass walls, hoping one of them was a concealed door but it didn’t budge. If the door was blocked, the other only way to escape out of here would be to smash through the glass. But would that bring the entire structure down on top of us? And then what? Even if I smashed my way out of the glass hall, I’d still have to find my way out of the labyrinthine Complex that enclosed the Great Hall. Oh God, oh God, oh God, I’m trapped.

  ‘Joan, get here now,’ I heard the Mayor bark and I turned just in time to see the kitchen matron running like a hurtling bull towards him, with Owl in tow.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Is she your mistake?’ the Mayor demanded, pointing at me.

  Her weasel eyes found me and pinned me to the glass wall, so intense was her stare. Her cruel thin lips curled with a snarl. ‘No sir, she is an imposter. She told me she was an apprentice with ’Untsman. I was suspicious but Hibbins ’ere must ’ave give her a serving job, the fool.’

  Owl stammered, ‘No, Sir, honestly, she told me she was a server. I didn’t give her a job.’

  His protestations were cut off with a sharp stinging slap across his face from the Mayor. ‘Idiot, get out of my sight.’

  The music was getting louder and more frantic, as the musicians desperately tried to drown out the sound of the commotion near the doorway.

  A young, well-built man with black hair stalked in. Even from this distance, his eyes shone a blue of such oceanic depth that it was astonishing. I knew immediately who he was. Noah, the assistant who had been helping the Mayor’s daughter.

  ‘Noah, fetch me Perkins,’ ordered the Mayor.

  ‘Please,’ added Noah pointedly.

  ‘What did you say to me?’ snarled the Mayor, dangerous in his rage, teetering on the edge of fury. This was too much for him.

  Noah turned to face him. His square jaw tilted at an angle of defiance, his back ramrod straight. ‘I said ‘please’. It doesn’t hurt to have some manners. And I won’t ‘fetch’ you anything. I’m not a dog.’

  With that, he marched over towards our serving tutor who was stood by the cutlery table, nervously hopping from one foot to the other. Joan watched him with an open mouth until the Mayor punched her arm and directed her to find Perkins instead.

  ‘Sal, what’s happened?’ Noah asked.

  She pointed at me. ‘I think it’ll be another Flora situation, if not worse. Flora only embarrassed him in front of some merchants. She’s gone and done it in front of the Metropolites.’

  Flora. I realised that I had spent an hour locked in that meat-hanging room with her but had never asked her name. Noah rushed towards me and grabbed me by the tops of my arms. I was tall for a girl but he towered over me and was twice as wide, although slim and obviously strong. He was nothing like the other effete assistants with their soft hands, perfectly coifed hair, and bored drawling voices, who had blatantly never had to do a day’s work in their lives. He spoke with urgency and had a deep masculinity to his voice although he wasn’t older than nineteen. ‘Flora’s just told me about you. Look, he went easy on her because of who she is. But he won’t with you. You need to get out and make sure you’re never found. He won’t forget this.’

  ‘How?’ I asked, my heart sinking as I thought of the army of Parrots in my way.

  ‘I have a plan,’ he whispered, bringing his lips close to my ear, his breath moving the fine wisps of hair that framed my face. ‘Follow me and go along with everything I say.’

  He roughly grabbed the top of my right arm and began to drag me towards the Mayor. Was this a trick? I began to resist but his grip tightened and he hissed the words, ‘Trust me,’ through his teeth. I found myself wanting to follow him and so I let myself be dragged to face the person who I most desperately wanted to run from.

  ‘No need for Perkins, I’ll put her in confinement,’ he said as we approached the Mayor, not even stopping to look him in the eye. The Mayor put his considerable bulk between the exit and ourselves, forcing us to stop.

  ‘Don’t ever let me catch you speaking to me like that again, do you
understand me, boy?’

  The Mayor emphasised every single word slowly, so as to make sure his intentions were understood. I saw Noah grit his teeth.

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘You know I can’t fire you but I can make your life a living hell. You’ll wish you had never been born. Nor your family. You know what I mean. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  He thrust his finger at me. ‘And make sure she suffers.’

  ‘I will.’

  Then, amazingly, the Mayor stood aside. I never expected him to give in so easily. A little flip of hope jumped in my chest and I allowed myself to be led by Noah like a cow being led by a ring through its nose.

  Hysterical screaming drifted out of the Complex and across the courtyard to the Great Hall. There was a sound of pounding feet, more than one pair, running down the stone corridor of the Complex. They slapped with cold, flat thuds that sounded like a death toll. My joy at averting disaster turned to despair as I saw Flora hurtling through the glass doors and launch herself at the Mayor. The musicians stopped playing. The Metropolites backed away as the Mayor tried in vain to bat away the frenzied creature that clung to his clothes and clawed at his eyes.

  Perkins, leading an army of Parrots, burst into the room and threw himself into the fray, receiving a vicious kick to the chest from Flora as she cried ‘Noah! Noah! Help me!’