Beasts of the Walking City

by Del Law

  Within a minute, there are a score of cephaloch in the sea between all of the ships, splashing and boiling across the surface of the water and churning it into grey froth.

  As the Seafire lures them all in, the other ships close in more tightly around them.

  Then, I’m startled to see one of the cephaloch throw off a tracer of its own to the Seafire. It reinforces it, and sends its own aether swirling down the conduit to the Seafire’s matrix.

  I feel like I’m watching a horror film, something based on a Lovecraft story. “They’re intelligent?”

  Nadrune nods. “Some of them. Their raids on our shipping fleets have shown patterns. They’ve been studying us. Now they’re using our own techniques against us.”

  Another of the cephaloch grabs and reinforces a tracer from the Seafire as they close on the ship. There are five of them in the water now with live energy, and as they moved into a rough semblance of a formation, a loose circle closing tighter in around the Seafire, I see them bring their own matrix online and drop more tracers onto the Seafire. Where the tracers touch fire blooms. The ship starts to burn, but mechs are ready and they race to the scene of the blaze, spraying white foam.

  More cephaloch rise out of the water. There are more than fifty now, encircled by the Akarii fleet. Their loose matrix has ten, no twelve, participants that I can see. The ones not in the matrix are climbing the sides of the ships nearest to them. Men there aim and fire aether cannons, while others draw knives and fight hand to hand.

  A cephaloch tentacle reaches across the windows in front of us, and a creature hauls itself across our view. It hangs there at the window, looking in.

  I look back at the drones in the niches, and take a step back. I realize I’m grabbing at my chest, where my knife should be. The cephaloch brings up a large rock, and it smashes it against the windows. Nadrune and I jump, just as a net of blue fire spreads itself across the glass, coming from one of the drones in the niche.

  The rock rebounds into the water. The cephaloch’s skin began to smoke where it holds onto the ship, and then as the fire glows more brightly it lets go and falls back into the water.

  There’s a large crack across the glass now.

  The marine on the Seafire’s peak draws up more energy, and starts slaving the cephaloch mages into his matrix, one after another.

  Then he turns them against their own kind. It’s not a fight any more. It’s a slaughter.

  “That is Bakron Akarii,” Nadrune says, pointing the marine who now channeled the energies of more than seventy other marines. The man’s armor burns so white it leaves afterimages in my eyes. “He’s a tremendous ally, when he’s not off treasure hunting,” the Fleet Captain says, frowning. “And if he has his way, he’ll kill me one day soon. Quite possibly you too, you know, since it was his retriever ship you seem to have encountered in Tilhtinora.”

  I get that sinking feeling again. My stomach flops over, like all of those fish I’ve just eaten weren’t chewed very well.

  “Fleet Captain Nadrune.” The drone in the niche behind speaks in a flat voice. “Lieutenant Marshall Bakron Akarii of the Tel Kharan presents his work for your satisfaction.”

  The drone projects from her knife. The man in the image is tall, with long, thick black hair and Akarii sideburns.

  Thick, white scars run down each side of his face. I recognize him as the same Tel Kharan I saw aboard the Retriever ship in Tilhtinora.

  As the image’s lips move, the man's deep voice emerges from the drone.

  “Nadrune.”

  The Fleet Captain doesn’t turn from the windows. “You’re a bit premature, aren’t you Lieutenant Marshal?” She points to a section of the floating cephaloch, where one was waving tentacles in its death throes. “I think I still see some life out there.”

  I see a flash of bridled hatred across the marine’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly. A blast from the Seafire finishes the last of the cephaloch.

  “Very well,” sighs the Fleet Captain. “Your adequacy is evident, lieutenant.”

  The flickering image frowns at the Fleet Captain’s back, and then nods. Then it turns to study me.

  “Is there anything else, Lieutenant Marshal,” the Fleet Captain says from the windows.

  “This is the Hulgliev, Nadrune?”

  “Well, clearly.”

  “And you have received my letter of concern?”

  “I have.”

  “May I remind the Fleet Captain about the importance of tradition? That the Tel Kharan have a duty to uphold the laws set down by our fathers?”

  “You may not,” the Fleet Captain says, flatly.

  Bakron’s image frons, and then performs a brief bow. As it begins to fade, it turns to me, meets my eyes, and his face splits in a wide grin that’s full of malice. I am coming for you, it mouths.

  Great, you and the rest of your army.

  You might have to get in line, I mouth back, but he’s faded out now. I can’t tell if he saw me.

  Each marine is only a mage, and each mage is only a person. Regardless of what sort of technology they wrapped themselves in.

  I’m just going to keep telling myself this until I actually believe it.

  I could really use that bourbon about now.

  Nadrune stands quietly at the windows. The Seafire lets down the shared matrix, and then mages from the other fleet ships burn away the bodies of the cephaloch until the surface of the water is clear. Marines are lowered back down to the deck, and darkness returns to the night. Somewhere on the ship, I can hear a bell calling crews to dinner.

  “My father has three Akarii fleets,” Nadrune says quietly. “And we’re not the largest. After Tamaranth falls, we will move city by city until every one that matters has allegiance to Akarii and every other Family has taken their seat in the Council chambers under my direction.”

  She turns back to me, holds out two firey hands, palms open. “Consider your future, Hulgliev. You stand with me, or you stand against all of this. If I were to even give you a choice, what would you decide?”

  I have no answer.

  I study her hands. The faint lines on her palms are illuminated from underneath, and they looked like maps, small glowing maps that are tracing out for me the roads of my future. Only it's impossible to tell where they lead.

  22.

  A short time later, I’m following Semper’s topknot back to my room. How he can navigate this ship-city is beyond me, between all of the crowds and noise on the upper decks. It’s one gigantic party here for all these wealthy Akarii. Do they know there’s a war going on? Merchants are hawking things from places I’ve never heard of. Acrobats jump and flip. Musicians are doing bad covers of the Grateful Dead, Led Zeppelin, Air Supply, REM—and a lot of it is off-key. Despite the number of times I’ve walked the corpse roads, it still sounds eerie to me to see things from Earth here. Vendors are doing everything they can to capitalize on the Earth obsession. Some of them are offering views of Earth, probably little windows into 7-Elevens, subway stations, hole in the wall bars. But despite the prices they seem to be selling pretty well--long lines of people stand, waiting. There are old Earth movies showing, too, in little makeshift theaters. I pass a woman dressed like a guy from Capone’s time in an impeccable pinstripe suit and a fedora. Her Solingi features look nothing like an Italian. She eyes me, but says nothing. A Buhr tries to follow us, but Semper chases it off. “Nasty things,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Who let that in? Usually the guards catch them.” Statues pontificate silently at broad intersections, wrapped in the smells of strange perfumes, frying foods, the ocean. Someone tries to give me a free sample of what they’re calling a churro, and it’s just plain awful—some dough that’s fried to death in wurf fat and covered with dried, powdered meermeer. Leave it to Kirythians to get even this wrong.

  “I trust the Fleet Captain was compelling?” Semper says, as we walk.

  “Compelling? You can say that.” I slip a finger between the collar and the skin of
my neck and try to loosen it a little. No luck. Is it tighter now, or does it just feel that way? “I’m guessing she generally gets what she wants.”

  Semper nods. He gestures around him. “Did I tell you the name of the ship?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nadrune’s Mercy.” Semper smiles. “And yes, before you ask—she appreciates the irony. All of this was built for her. Our whole undertaking is hers. Nadrune is a force of nature, Blackwell. With her sheer force of will, she has built a tremendous alliance across the Akarii, one we haven’t seen anything like for a century.”

  I nod. I don’t really know what to say to this. “How long have you been her sage, Semper?”

  Semper stops, turns to look at me, and studies my face. He nods in response to something he sees there. “Thirteen years. Her last one had been with her since her birth. She died of old age. I was in the library in Tilhtinon when I got the news that I’d been asked to attend to her.”

  “And you enjoy your service with her?”

  Semper looks around, as if to see who might be listening. “Of course, khalee.”

  “Then why are you here, babysitting me? I would have thought you’d have better things to do.”

  Semper shakes his head. “If anything, I think the Fleet Captain underestimates your importance, Blackwell. I’ve studied the roles your predecessors have played in Akarii history. The chance to meet you was too… compelling… to let go.”

  I shake my head. “I’m just a guy, Semper. Just another mage. You’ve got to know that. I live down deep in the Warrens. I take whatever work I can get, and there’s not a lot of it. I’m deep in debt now to people you don’t really want to be in debt to. I think you are all deluding yourselves about me.”

  “You are still what you are.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t see any Hulgliev around the Akarii, because you don’t see any Hulgliev,” I say. “We’ve got no land and no money, and there aren’t very many of us left anyway. We skulk around the edges of the world, off-lei, where no one else wants to go. Most of us are addicted to drink or drugs. I just got lucky enough to get out with most of my fur intact. Until now, that is.”

  “You and I both know now that wasn’t always the case.”

  “What’s your point? That was then, ancient history. This is now.”

  Semper sighs and shakes his head. “Read your history, Blackwell. Understand it. Know your people and their context like we Akarii know ours. It’s only then can you appreciate their plight. And only through understanding them can you put yourself in a place to make a change for them, a change for the better. Would you sacrifice yourself for the betterment of your race?”

  “Sure.” I stand up a little straighter.

  “If you could, would you bring your people back together, give them land and homes and food, and some work that would give them some purpose?”

  “Of course.”

  “All of that can happen here. Consider how little a sacrifice this position within the Akarii family would be for you, and how much you might be able to change things for your kind. I recognize there are things about the Akarii, and the way we get things done, that you may not like.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice. “There are things about the Family that many of us don’t like. But we make compromises to make things better for ourselves, for our families, for our people. What was it an Earth philosopher once argued? ‘The end justifies the means?’”

  He’s making my head spin. How do you answer that? I’ve got nothing. We’re walking again. I close my eyes for a second, but when I do I see the lines on Nadrune’s palms tracing themselves out on the insides of my eyelids.

  He leaves me at my room, tells me how to find him later. I nod, go inside, shut the door and rest my forehead against the cold wood.

  That collar feels even tighter now.

  Plus, I can feel all the birds on the wall staring at me.

  What would you do? Give Nadrune the finger and go back to being broke and poor and hunted, just on principle? Easy to say, and it makes a good story.

  But it’s a lot harder to live with when it’s you.

  It takes me a few minutes to lift my head off the door and turn back to the room. When I do, I realize there’s a woman in my bed.

  She’s reclining there, in the low light coming from the lamp, dressed in feathers and jewels and elaborately wrapped cloth that leaves little to the imagination.

  It’s Mircada. She’s watching me with a funny sort of grin.

  “So…” I say. “Hey there.”

  “Hey,” she said. “Nice collar.”

  “Thanks.” I frown.

  “Is that their sales pitch?”

  “Essentially.”

  “Let me give you mine.” She pats the edge of the bed beside her.

  I sit.

  “Let me guess,” she says. “Lands and money and a title for helping Nadrune set up her own little Lunar Council.”

  “Basically.”

  She looks up at me. “And you’re thinking about it, aren’t you.” She sounds surprised. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously? They’ve got a point. I could make a real difference for a lot of Hulgliev with some lands and money.”

  “And you think Nadrune would live up to her word?”

  I shrug. “No idea. Options are looking a little limited right now.”

  “There are always options.” She leans forward, watching me. Part of her wrap slides down her left shoulder, and her breast comes slowly into view like a beautiful rising moon.

  “We could use you with Kerul, you know. The Family isn’t what it used to be, but they’re still trying for something better. Nadrune is out for herself, for her place in history. We could use your talents, too. For a higher purpose.”

  I shake my head. “What’s the difference? One Family or another. One gang or another. At least with Capone I know where I stand.”

  “Whatever she offered you, at least listen to what we have to say.”

  “Are you asking for your boss? Or are you asking for yourself?”

  She bites her lower lip, which is painted a vibrant blue. “I don’t think Ercan’s here just now.” She takes her hand and rests it against my cheek. “I can go and try to find him, if you’d like?”

  I can feel her breath on the fine fur around my nose.

  “Maybe later,” I say, reaching for her. “Maybe a lot later.”

  She has me quickly out of my Akarii robe, but she takes awhile unwrapping herself, at least until I start to help. I can’t look away. She’s so small and delicate and so smooth and hairless across most of her skin that I feel like I’m breaking some sort of long-standing taboo that no one ever told me about. She has me unfasten silver clasps down her back. She lowers the wraps slowly, watching my expression. A blush spreads down her face and across her shoulders and breasts. She takes my hands and places them on her. Touch me here, she says. And here. And over here.

  I do. A shiver runs through her, and she arches her back, preening. She guides my hands lower, to the cloth across her hips and thighs, and I kneel down at the side of the bed to work the seemingly endless strips of white around her abdomen and down her legs. Some of them tear—what can I say? But then finally she’s wearing nothing but those glittering bracelets. I run my fingers up the length of her thighs and watch tiny, fascinating bumps rise up on her skin. What were they for, anyway? I cup the bones of her hips in my palms. She buries her hands in the fur of my neck and pulls me in.

  Her soft, dry skin brushed against the fur of my cheeks. I breathe in the scent of her. Her hands flutter against me as though they’re tiny birds or butterflies, and I remind myself of how fragile she must be until I’m having trouble thinking. She doesn’t feel fragile. She sure doesn’t act fragile. Then she’s whispering my name over and over and she’s pulling me up onto the bed, pushing me down into the sheets. She’s climbing across me and lowering herself down, staring into my eyes. My breath catches in my throat and her eyes go wide.


  “Oh,” she says quietly. “Oh, my.”

  Later, it occurs to me that the Akarii collar was probably a good thing. If I’d had access to aether, I probably would have set the whole ship on fire.

  23.

  It takes days for the fleet to get closer to Tamaranth. The ocean between our two biggest continents is large and the currents and tides are fierce from all of our moons fighting with each other for dominion over it. Not all of the ships of the fleet were able to raise themselves up above the surface of the water, even though I’m told we were travelling directly in the heart of the lei, so the fleet needs to move in stages.

  I can’t say I care much. If Semper isn't dragging me around to meet with one Akarii or another, in elaborate formal dinners where there seems to be a lot of elegance and not a lot of food, I’m either ducking him to meet Mircada in hidden places on the ship, waiting to meet her somewhere, eating, or sleeping to try and get some strength (and fur) back.

  Semper doesn’t seem to mind me exploring on my own. I make a point to ask one or two specific questions about the ship or the art when I’m back.

  And really, where could I go?

  Sealed messages from Mircada are delivered by different couriers, with maps. I show up. She’s there waiting for me, smelling of fecklepepper and clove oil. I hold her tightly in a hammock slung in a room amidst a hundred others, all empty. I undress her in dark, empty store rooms above the ships engines, where the floors glow blue with the resonant aether, and static sparks across the spaces between us, stinging deliciously. After nightfall, under the cover of darkness, I help her up into the matrix platforms high in the stern, and in those tight spaces we move against and into each other with the exaggerated motions of the ship, looking down across the dark water glowing with nighttime phosphorescence.

  When we lie together afterwards, sweaty and breathing heavily and holding on to each other in the dark, we talk, and I find I look forward to that intimacy as much as the physical exertion. She tells me stories about when she was a child, growing up in once-wealthy household that was struggling to maintain a drafty, rural estate. About her mother, a flighty woman who always needed to be kept in the most current of city fashions despite that there was no one to see her, and who let Mircada and her siblings run wild. About her father, a brilliant falconer and a sweet man, with bad luck at dice and cards. About her brother Crystas, a boy grown into a sage who studied the intricate glyphwork on ancient pieces of pottery unearthed from the First Transcendency, and who even now wandered with Krukkruk in the distant northern wastes. About how she and the other Kerul had met, at the college in Tilhtinon her parents never really managed to pay for.