by Jo Anderton
Sofia lifted an eyebrow. "You might have to wear skirts next time though."
"I have pants loose enough to go on top of this."
"Not a good idea for a debris collector to stand out." She gave me a stern look. "We need to walk around unhindered, unmolested. If you start trying to be different, trying to get attention, you'll make life harder for all of us."
Attention? That wasn't why I cut my hair short, and wore men's clothing. "I have some very loose pants."
Kichlan sighed. "As I was saying, wear the uniform beneath your clothes. Get used to it. You can be called on at any time, and must be ready to respond immediately."
"Immediately?"
He nodded. "When accidents happen – like architects who lose control of their buildings, say – we have to be prepared. Any time. All the time."
I refused to rise to the barb. "Given the effect debris can have on a pion system, I understand why."
Enough debris could slow a whole system down, leaving pions unresponsive and ultimately useless. Any system, no matter how large. And what was Movocunder-Keeper but an enormous pion system, a system of systems, built from pions, with pions, entirely dependent on their smooth working. From fountains to landaus, nothing operated without them. Imagine running a hospital without working pions, or the heating system, or the lights. A whole city in chaos, utter darkness and cold.
"You were a skilled architect, weren't you? A strong binder." Kichlan's voice was soft again, like he couldn't decide if my past made him angry or sad. What did it matter, how skilled I was when I was a pion-binder? All that was gone now. "Before you fell."
My throat felt dry. The uniform was too hot. "Yes. Before I fell."
I held Kichlan's gaze, tried to decide if I could read sympathy in his eyes, or a bitter kind of confusion.
Then Lad broke into the silence. "He likes it." He grinned. "Thinks you look good in it. A lot."
Mizra burst out laughing as Kichlan gaped at his brother. Sofia glared at me from beneath thick eyelashes. The anger there, the resentment, was far deeper than anything she had shown me yet. The whole new-team arrangement wasn't really going very well.
"Let's go," Sofia growled the words, pulled her clothes back on and stalked to the stairs. I collected my own clothes, tugged them on, and followed.
Lad was bouncing on the balls of his feet as I stepped back into the glare of Movoc-under-Keeper. I shielded my eyes and squinted into the hard blue sky. Clouds hugged the edge of the horizon, probably flocking to Keeper's Peak and the lesser range of mountains in her shadow. I hoped they would spill over as the day wore on, keeping some warmth in the city, dulling the worst of the sharp sunlight.
"Lovely day to be collecting." Mirza hunched himself into a jacket patched together from scraps of leather and wool, and wrapped a widely knitted scarf around his neck. Guilt nudged at me. I was acutely aware of the lamb's wool cushioning my ears, of my smooth leather shoes and the heavy, wind-blocking lining of my coat.
"Aren't they all?" Natasha mumbled into the high collar of a jacket that swallowed most of her head.
Their attitude didn't dampen Lad's excitement. He giggled and repeated, "Lovely day!" over and over. He sang it, like a child with a newly learned expression, loudly, softly, without apparent tune. And he continued to bounce as Kichlan fought to secure Lad's loose scarf.
"It's going to take all day to calm him down now." Kichlan gave up on Lad's scarf altogether and muttered as he stalked past me.
Was that my fault?
As the others started down the street, Kichlan gestured for me to follow him. "I guess the most important thing I can tell you is to fill the quota."
I blinked at him. "Quota?"
He gave a little sigh and nodded. "Every sixnight and one the debris we have collected is taken away by the veche." He rustled around in a brown leather bag he had swung over his shoulder and drew out a strange container. It looked like a jam jar with a lid that sealed tightly, but was made of a dull metal instead of glass. It didn't, I rather quickly assumed, hold jam. "We put the debris in these, and they'll count the number we send back full. After a decent sixnight we'll fill seventy-two. Any less than that is a problem. Although, they'll be after–" he flicked his fingers, counted under his breath "–eighty-four now you're here."
"Wonderful," Sofia muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.
"And if we don't meet this quota?" Why didn't I shut my mouth when it wanted to ask questions like that?
"Inspection." Kichlan's face took on a thundercloud aspect, dark, foreboding. Inspection hung in the cold air like it was written in ice. The rest of the team held their breath. "And we don't want that."
Well, I could understand not wanting to endure a veche inspection, particularly considering their presence at Grandeur's construction site when it all fell apart. But the tension I could suddenly feel felt a little extreme. What could be so bad about an inspection? A lecture, a rap on the knuckles? But those hanging-ice words told me there had to be more to it than that.
"To avoid such an event we have devised half a dozen set loops," Kichlan continued, expression still dark. "You will learn them over the next sixnight or two. They take us past places where debris congregates. Faulty lamps, old sewers. Pion systems that aren't functioning properly. It has worked, so far, to fill our quota and keep from attracting unwanted veche attention."
"Kich's idea," Lad told me, tone light compared to Kichlan's face and everyone else's heavy silence. "He decided the ways we should go and we always find some."
"Oh, Lad." A smile swept Kichlan's thunderclouds away. "You're being hard on yourself. We also have a secret weapon–" he nodded to his younger brother "–thanks to Lad, we always find the debris we're looking for, even if it's off the loop. Other teams aren't so lucky."
Lad, still bouncing and drawing further ahead, grinned proudly.
I gave a sharp, quiet sigh. "Aren't we lucky."
"You'll see," Sofia said, expression smug.
"Just remember one thing." Mizra wrapped an arm around half of Lad's wide back. "When it comes to debris, always follow Lad's instincts."
"Always," Kichlan echoed him.
Once we left Darkwater we headed from side street to side street, poking into every shadow, scrutinising every corner. I found myself immersed in a uniformity of poor brickwork, unwashed streets and cracked windows. I had no idea how I was supposed to remember the whole twisting route, let alone half a dozen different ones.
In these poorer areas kopacks weren't spent on frivolous fountains or expensive walkways that required intensive pion systems to run. Even if I still retained my pion sight, the buildings in these sections would have looked dull to me. Almost lightless. That wasn't to say they were like the ancient buildings at the city centre, built by hand in a time before critical circles. Rather, they were constructed cheaply and quickly, by smaller circles and with weaker, shallow pions. The buildings stood, barely, and did not weather the passing of time particularly well.
"Pay particular attention to shadows," Kichlan lectured me. The others were a good five strides ahead, talking among themselves. Mizra gestured wildly and Lad nearly fell to the icy flagstones in a paroxysm of laughter. "Dark in colour, debris is easy to miss in the shadows. We do not collect at night for this reason. Unless, of course, in an emergency."
"Of course."
Mizra waved his hands in the air, and now Uzdal was laughing too. Even Natasha let out a soft chuckle. Lad whooped, the sound echoing. A face peered down from a slit of a window, high up in the flat, unpainted cement wall. I glanced up to see an old man, hair thinning and face heavily lined, scowling as we trooped past.
"Mizra," Kichlan called. When the young man turned around Kichlan made gestures over his mouth, then pointed at Lad. Mizra shrugged, only to be rewarded with a clenched fist. Finally, Mizra nodded, and the laughter ceased.
Seemed a pity to me.
"Where was I?" Kichlan clasped his hands behind his back, and lifted his head. He co
uld have passed easily for a university lecturer striding along like that. All he needed was a black cape and a bear's claw pinned to his breast.
"You were telling me about emergencies," I said, At least emergencies sounded interesting.
"Remember to wear your uniform all the time."
"So you said."
"Even at night."
I balked. "At night?"
"I told you to wear it all the time, Tanyana. And I mean it. If you are called to an incident at silentbell what will you do? Trust me, you won't be given time to dress." And then, Other's beard, the bastard sneered at me. "When the call comes–"
All the time? That was ridiculous. "How will I know if there's an incident when I'm snug in my own bed and sound asleep?" And how did he expect me to reach that state of sound asleepness wrapped in a hot, hard, second skin?
"I was trying to tell you." He tapped at his wrist. "You'll know."
The suit then. I couldn't get away from it, could I? Not at home, not in my sleep, not anywhere or any time. "Fine."
"Good." Kichlan was silent for a moment. "Should be easy for a skilled ex-binder like you to work out."
"Great." My left knee was starting to hurt.
We trekked further. More small windows opened, letting in the crisp morning air. Wet clothes and bedding were hung on wire strung between them. People stepped out into the streets. Men dressed in dark suits with smallbrimmed hats tucked tightly over their ears. Women in wide skirts, heavily layered, rustled against the flagstones in rose pinks, wildflower cream and bright sky blue. Their hands were wrapped in muffs of fur dyed to match the colour of lace hemming or glimpsed underskirt. Some wore thick hats, wide enough to keep the sun from delicate skin but low enough to protect their ears, but most donned more elaborate versions of my own: tight around the head, topped with soft moleskin and rimmed with fur.
I tugged at the lapel of my unfitted, tailored-for-a-man jacket. I played with the ends of my short-cropped hair.
"Now do you see what I mean?" Sofia hung back from the others to grace me with a self-righteous smile. "You really don't fit in, do you?"
I supposed that was a bad thing. "I don't see you dressed up like some oversexed flower waiting for the bee."
Ahead of us, Mizra let out a raucous laugh that had Lad quickly following suit. Sofia scowled. "I look like a woman of my station. You should try it sometimes." She hurried forward to smack Mizra on the back of the head.
I decided it was easier to hold my tongue than argue the point.
We didn't get much further from the Keeper that day. We wound our way through small alleys and side streets, squeezing through gaps in wooden fences, climbing a few stunted iron railings and opening rusty gates with hinges that screamed to wake the Other. I supposed it was intentional, this keeping out of the way. Away from people, away from the thoroughfares, away from space and sunlight and open sky. Because debris kept to the corners, Kichlan said, because the passage of coaches, of people, could sweep it away like dust. I didn't believe him. I was convinced, as I strained to squeeze through a cracked iron gate that refused to open any further, that the collectors were not following debris. They were avoiding people.
Then Lad, out in front and pushing along nicely despite his size, stopped. Mizra ran into his back – the experience a lot like I imagined walking into a wall would look like – and hurried to step away, expression apprehensive.
The team wrapped themselves in tense silence, all at once. I glanced from face to face, but all attention was reserved for Lad. The big man cupped his hand to his ear. Listening. He nodded, to no one in particular, and started abruptly down a different alleyway.
"Quickly." Kichlan grabbed my elbow and dragged me with him. "Once he's found it there's no slowing him, no stopping him."
I tripped on what was left of the gate and allowed myself to be half-carried, half-dragged into the alley. The stench of cat piss made me gag, while Kichlan's grip jarred into my shoulder. I struggled upright, and started running, finally able to shake him off. "Found what?" I panted behind him.
He spared me a glance, disbelieving. "Debris, of course."
I couldn't see anything, not even the Other-forsaken sludge I was stepping in. Even if the whole alleyway was teeming with dark, wiggly worms of debris I wasn't sure I would see it.
Lad turned a corner, Mizra and Uzdal close behind. Sofia, with a kerchief pressed against her nose, and Natasha, expression ugly with disgust, were a step behind them. Kichlan, probably impatient with my slow, limping run, nearly missed the bend.
"How does he know where it is?" I asked, trying to breathe through my mouth and talk at the same time. Anything to lessen the smell.
Kichlan grabbed my arm again and forced me to match his pace. His face was lit bright with flashes of sunlight and a wild smile. Somewhat mad, somewhat alarming, but alive. And proud. "He's Lad." The grin caught me and dragged out a smile of my own. "That's enough, isn't it? He's Lad. He knows."
We halted at a dead end. Roughly fired clay bricks – ugly and dark and made, I guessed, of ungainly or reluctant pions – stretched upward in a wall so high it blocked the Keeper from view. I peered at the soles of my shoes as the others shuffled aimlessly, moving boxes of rotting wood aside, lifting the worn-away edge of what was once a drainpipe and flinching back from whatever hid there. I touched an adjacent wall, just as ugly, for balance as I tipped my foot up. I had definitely stepped in something far below savoury.
Lad stood at the dead end, shoes swimming in scummy liquid. His face was hard to see in the dim alley, but what muted and grey light did penetrate it showed his lips moving slowly, his voice so quiet it was lost in a distant and incessant drip. Almost, I thought to myself, like he was talking to pions. What a strange and ridiculous thought.
Kichlan said nothing, only watched his brother. I put my foot down and leaned against the wall, just as Lad spun toward me.
"Look out!" he cried, and lunged forward as the wall gave way. His large hands fumbled with mine; I grabbed air and slippery palms but could hold onto neither. I fell backwards, into a putrid puddle of water, as a heavy shower of bricks rained down on me.
I scrambled desperately, hands beating at the falling bricks, feet slipping and kicking for purchase. And just as suddenly as the wall had collapsed, the stones stopped falling on my head. I opened my eyes to a semicircular dome of silver that wrapped around me, that shielded me from the rest of the wall.
What, by the Other's own hells, was that?
"Tanyana!" Kichlan yelled, voice muted through the silver ceiling and the Other only knew how much rock. After a breathless moment I heard scraping and the clattering of stones, then tapping.
I coughed until I could spit up the brick dust clogging my throat. "Kichlan? What is this?"
"How did it do that?" Someone – Sofia – was talking on the other side of the silver. Not, I noticed, trying to get me out from under it. "It's dormant, Kichlan. Dormant! We haven't even shown her how–"
"Give her help!" Lad shouted. "He says to be quiet and help her!" I agreed with him.
"Tanyana," Kichlan yelled again through the metal. "Don't let this frighten you. This is your suit, just your suit doing what it should do. You need to calm down and get it under control."
Calm down? I thought I sounded like the calmest person here. "How do I do that?"
A moment of half-heard muttering. "Your suit is more than bands of silver."
"I have come to realise this," I mumbled to myself. My voice echoed strangely in the tight space.
"Your suit is all this silver stuff too," he continued, oblivious. "It's in your arms and legs. It's so deep inside you wouldn't know it's there, until it does something like this."
I remembered being strapped to the veche's table. The muscle spasms from wrist to shoulder. The ache, the pressure, further down than any surface scratch could have been. Fluids pumped into me. Fibrous, wiggling things trapped in glass tubes. I had seen it happen, I had known the suit was moving deeper.
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"I see."
He hesitated again. "The suit is part of you. Your legs, your arms. You know how to move your arms, don't you? Your feet? The muscles around your stomach, your neck?"
"Of course."
"Then you can move the suit."
I looked up to my wrist. Dimly, I could see a connection, where the silver on my wrist had grown, spread, flattened into the ceiling that now shielded me. The silver was part of those spinning, glowing bands. They were a part of me. And as I thought about lowering my arms that very symbol-scrawled silver bubbled back down into the bands on my wrists.
I blinked against sudden sunlight before large hands scooped me out of fetid sewage. "Tan!" Lad crushed me against his chest. "Too slow, too slow!" he cried.