by James Bow
Simon looked horrified, but I could see the fight wasn’t over. I shoved a thorn into my blowpipe and blew. The guard flinched, then lay limp.
Simon gaped. “You didn’t have to do that!”
I frowned at him. “I did. She would kick you. Hard. She stays down now.”
“Yeah, but —”
“What?”
“She was down!” he yelled. Partly to himself, he added, “I almost knocked her out cold. I could have killed her!”
“Simon!” Then I switched, the better to say what I meant: « You are not going to bring the truth to your cities without hurting people. They will stop you, otherwise! »
He looked at me, breathing heavily. Then he looked at the body on the floor. I could see he had many objections floating in his head, but he could not give voice to them. Probably because he knew I was right.
* * *
SIMON:
I hated that she was right.
The last guard had been trying to send an emergency message. I’d stopped her before she’d gotten the canister away, and that bought us some time, though I didn’t know how much. Probably until the shifts changed.
I looked around and found a storage locker, with uniforms stacked on shelves. “Good,” I said. “Something to wear.”
Eliza stared at the grey garments with distaste. “Have to?”
I nodded. “Forest camouflage won’t work in the city. We need city camouflage.”
She huffed. « Fine. Show me how to wear these. »
I thumbed through the locker and tossed her a uniform that I thought might fit. “Here.”
She unfurled the bundle of fabric and stared at the grey tunic. “Why you wear these?” She slapped the tunic’s chest. “You not need these. Why you wear them? You ashamed of your skin?”
“Yes,” I said. “We are ashamed.”
I meant a lot of things by that. The shame of what our ancestors had done on Old Mother Earth, the crimes that had driven us into the darkness. When people heard of what the Icarus had done to the Elder’s people — the same crime, as if genocide were bred in our bones — I did not know what would happen. But I knew shame was the least of it.
I also knew Eliza didn’t understand anything beyond the simplest part of my answer. Shaking her head, she pulled off her travel pouches. For the first time in months, I averted my eyes as she measured a tunic and trousers against herself.
We stowed our carrying bags, after taking what little we needed. I noticed that Eliza left her knives in her bag, but she took out her blowpipe and a dozen thorns wrapped in leather and put them in a pocket. I put on my uniform and transferred the black box to my pocket. When I looked back at Eliza, she was dressed, but struggling with her belt.
“Here, let me.” I took both ends from her, slipped the latch on and tightened it. Then I pulled her hair back. She squawked at that, but didn’t slap my hands away. I tied her hair back into a ponytail. “There.” I stepped back to look at her.
I had to admit, wearing a uniform that fit her, with slender, grey trousers, made her look very … different. It was … interesting … seeing her wearing it.
“You look nice,” I said. She gave me a suspicious look and for some reason my mouth went dry. “You look … very nice. Really! You look …” There was a word I wanted to say, but I was afraid that if I said it, she’d hit me. So, instead I said, “… nice.”
She tugged at the cuffs of the sleeves. « I feel strange! »
“It suits you,” I said. « We must go. »
« Wait. » Eliza reached into the locker, and brought out two guns in their holsters. She handed one to me. « Here. »
I held it gingerly. “We don’t need these.”
“We do.”
“They’re dangerous,” I began.
« I see that, » she cut in. « But the guards had them. So should we. »
I did not like where this was going, sneaking through Daedalon with guns. I was not that person. “Eliza, I can’t—”
She cocked her head. « What was it you said about camouflage? »
I really hated the fact that she was right. “Fine.” I clipped the holster to my belt. “But keep it in the holster. Blowpipe only.”
She nodded and strode from the room with such purpose, I thought she should have scissors in her hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NOCTURNE PREPARATIONS
SIMON:
When the elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors parted, I heard laughter.
A half dozen men and women walked past, the insignia of the flight bay on their sleeves, and bottles tucked under their arms. One woman looked at me, and I had a sudden fear I’d be recognized, but her eyes fell on my guard’s uniform, and she flashed me a smile. Then they were gone.
Eliza stood tense. Her hand was in the pocket of her uniform, holding her blowpipe. I tapped her arm and gave her a look that I hoped told her to keep calm.
Guarding the elevator that led down to the stem compound was a large security desk and an empty chair. Somebody wasn’t at his post, and neither were the flight bay attendants.
Then I remembered the date: Nocturne. Though the chasm had been darkening, it was hard to believe seven months had passed since Iapyx fell. It felt like yesterday. It felt like a century ago.
Nocturne, the end of white, the end of restraint. Nocturne: darkness and colour. We’d timed our arrival well. People weren’t thinking about staying at their posts. The last flights were probably in, and there was nothing for the flight bay attendants to do but start their party.
I looked around, remembering the layout of the place when I was last here. The upper levels held the factories, which took advantage of all that heat. Then came the housing levels, then finally the lowest level of all, which housed the flight bay, the arboretum, some offices … and the prison.
I tapped Eliza’s arm. “Let’s go.”
We walked away from the flight bay, following the crowds that were gathering at the arboretum — a satellite to the main event in Daedalon’s Great Hall, with less music and more drink.
The arboretum was a long room that stretched the width of the lowest level of Daedalon. Though longer and wider than the Great Hall, it only occupied one level of the city. Light globes were mounted on the support piers, filling the room with an even, yellow glow.
There were plants everywhere. Specially bred crops from Old Mother Earth grew in tight rows alongside vegetables we’d adopted from this world. Couples giggled and darted among the cornrows.
A young woman ran out, red ribbons fluttering in her dark hair. She skidded to a halt in front of us and gave us a giddy grin. “You’re not Ebenezer!” she said.
She shrieked as a young man sneaked up behind her and tickled her sides. “I’m here, love!” he said.
The woman grabbed Ebenezer’s hand. “C’mon! I’ve got to show you something.”
And she kissed him, as if we weren’t there. Then, remembering that we were, the couple gave us grins that were both sheepish and wicked. They slipped into the cover of the corn.
Eliza stared after them, eyebrows up.
“It’s Nocturne,” I said, as if that explained everything.
We left the arboretum. Ahead of us, the corridor came to an abrupt end in a set of perspex doors.
The prison. Beyond was a large room with a big wall and two big doors. There was a desk there — a big one. It was not empty. As we approached, I counted the grey uniforms. One man sat at the desk. Another leaned on the desk, talking to him. Two more guards in front of the shining doors, one of them partly blocked by the man leaning on the desk.
My eyes flicked to the man behind the desk. Was that …? Well, that changed things. But only a little.
I didn’t slow my pace. « Four guards. »
Eliza matched my pace. « Yes. Four shots. »
« Three, » I said, quickly.
« What? »
« Three shots, » I snapped. « Two at door. One stand at … long flat thing? �
� I grimaced. “Desk.”
She frowned at me. « Not the man behind the big wood block? »
« We need him. »
She scowled, but didn’t object. That didn’t necessarily mean that she was going to listen to me, but I decided to take it as a good sign. I shoved through the doors and made a beeline for the man leaning against the desk.
He turned as I approached. His expression went from jovial to bewildered as I swung my fist and caught him straight on the jaw. He staggered back and caught himself on the desk, but he didn’t keel over. As I clasped my knuckles in pain, he turned on me, shouting. “What in sunlight did you do that for?”
A thorn zinged past my ear and caught him in the chest. He clutched at it, then went stiff, falling to his knees before keeling over.
The two guards by the door swung up their weapons, but they were looking for guns, not a woman with a reed in her mouth. She blew, reloaded and blew, all in the space of a second. The two guards lay face first on the floor.
The face of the guard behind the desk went as grey as his uniform.
“Hello, Sergeant Gaal,” I said. “You remember me, don’t you? From the fog forest?”
I caught Gaal’s wrist just before he could grab an emergency message canister. We struggled. His other hand went for his gun, but I grabbed that wrist too. Then he grabbed my shoulders and twisted, hauling me over the desk and onto the floor. Next moment we were grunting and kicking at each other, each desperately trying to keep the other’s hand away from his gun.
“How — can you — be alive?” Gaal grunted.
“How can you still be a guard?” I gasped back. “You said yourself — they were arresting Grounders — after Iapyx fell.” I smacked his wrist against the floor. “How — did you escape the purge? Did you sell out your friends?”
“Shut up!” Gaal hissed.
Eliza loomed into view, her blowpipe at her lips.
“No!” I yelled.
She glared at me, but put the blowpipe away and looked around for something to use as a club. Then she said to Gaal in her own language, « You there. You should stop, now. »
Alarmed, Gaal looked over his shoulder. It was a split-second reaction, but it was enough. I pulled my hand free and grabbed my gun. “She’s right,” I said. “You really should stop now.”
Gaal stopped struggling. I snatched his gun from his holster with my other hand and held it ready. He sagged. Keeping his moves slow and careful, he let go of me and gently eased himself back. He looked at Eliza, and he looked at me. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not.”
“But how did you survive the fog forest?”
“I found friends.” I nodded at Eliza. “I brought one back with me. Eliza, this is Sergeant Gaal of the Daedalon security force. Gaal, meet Eliza. Introduce yourself, Eliza!”
Eliza looked at Gaal. She looked at me. She grinned. « What do you want me to say? »
“Monster!” Gaal crabbed backward.
I stood up, my gun ready. “Does she look like a monster to you?”
Gaal’s face was a mixture of bewilderment and fear. “N–no.”
“Good. But you saw what she did to your friends. If you don’t want to find yourself laid out on the floor for the next two days, you’ll do as I say. Understood?” I waved the gun at the big doors. “Now, open these.”
As Eliza moved the unconscious guards into the corner and took their guns, Gaal fished a ring of keys from his belt loop. He unlocked the doors and opened them. We stepped inside.
The corridor was empty. There were no guards. Wooden doors lined both walls, stretching into the distance. I heard coughing, and the hush of people waiting.
“We’re a skeleton crew,” Gaal explained. “After the evening meal, everybody booked off for Nocturne. Except for me and the three guards you, um …” he glanced at Eliza’s blowpipe, “shot. It was supposed to be a quiet night.”
“Not this night.” I looked at the rows of doors, unsure where to start, and worried at where it would finish.
Eliza nudged me. “Who here? Why we here?”
“Friends.” I turned to Gaal. “Grounders, right? Did you sell out your friends?”
Gaal flinched. “No. I just … kept my head down. Nobody implicated me. They pled guilty at the trial. Their sentences were commuted to prison terms.”
“Hmm.” I felt grim. “Take me to their leader.”
He hesitated. But I had the gun. “This way.” He led the way down the corridor. The cells were quiet, with nothing more than the occasional cough coming from behind the closed doors.
Gaal stopped by a door that looked like all the rest. “This is the person you want to talk to.” He sorted through the keys on his ring. A moment’s rattle of the lock got the door open. The room was dim inside.
“Come on out,” Sergeant Gaal called into the cell. “Someone’s here to see you.”
Someone coughed. A cot squeaked. “I’ve said all I’m going to say to Nathaniel that doesn’t involve swear words,” said a voice within. “If he wants to hear me swear, by all means, bring him in. I could teach him a thing or two.”
I had to laugh. “You know the value of words, CommController.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then an incredulous, “Simon?” Feet hit the floor and an old man in white overalls came to the door. He gaped at me. “Simon!”
I clasped his hand. “Hello, Gabriel.”
* * *
ELIZA:
We had released an old man. I did not know who he was, but he looked happy to see Simon. “You’re alive!” he said. “How?”
“I might ask you the same question,” said Simon. He was grinning
“We were lucky,” said the man Simon had called Gabriel. But he did not look as though he thought himself lucky. “While they were taking us to the cells, the evacuation alarms sounded, and everyone ran for the ornithopters. It was chaos. Someone saw my rank, grabbed me and bundled me inside one of the last ones. I barely managed to get the battery girl on with me. But when we got to Daedalon, Nathaniel was there. He spotted me, and had us arrested.” He looked up at Simon. “But where did you come from? Where did you hide all this time?”
“In the fog forest.”
Gabriel looked at Simon in disbelief. Then his eyes flicked to me.
I stood there, silent. Yet another invader that I had to trust because Simon trusted him. It had taken half a sun turn to come to know Simon enough to trust him — more than trust him. How could I do that with this new invader in the space of heartbeats? My clothes itched. I pulled at the cloth that hugged my neck too tight.
“I’ve found the truth,” Simon said to Gabriel.
“The truth? What—”
“Long story. We’ll get to that. But right now, I need your help.”
“Yes, anything.”
“Let’s get the Grounders out of prison. I assume they’re all here?”
“Yes,” said Gabriel. “The few who survived from Iapyx, and most of the membership from Daedalon — present company excepted.” He gave Gaal a dark look. Gaal looked down and turned away, opening more doors.
“A plea bargain?” Simon shook his head. “You knew the truth. Why did you plead guilty?”
“The public wanted blood,” said Gabriel. “The Tals held all the cards. Pleading guilty saved us from execution or banishment. It stopped the witch hunts. The battery girl who was with me …” He nodded up above him. “She’s up there, a battery girl again, on condition she keeps her mouth shut.”
Then he glanced at Gaal, who stayed very quiet. “It also kept some others on the outside, so there’d be a chance the truth could come out once the fury died down.”
People were leaving their rooms — cells — which Simon had explained they weren’t allowed to leave. Seeing these rooms, I could sense the horror of this place. To be confined in so small a cave …
But as more invaders left their cells and joined us, looking bewildered, looking at me, I felt the cave closing in
. I slowed my breath as if a slink was near.
“But what about the evidence I gave you?” Simon asked. “The arrivals log? The requisition form?”
“Just pieces of paper against the tumult,” Gabriel replied. “Not enough to prove our innocence, and that was what we had to do, given the public mood.” He gave Simon a sly smile. “We still have them, though. The battery girl was able to hide them during our brief run of freedom on Daedalon. She keeps them safe. Nathaniel doesn’t know.”
Simon seemed happy with that, but unsure. “Couldn’t you have appealed to the Captain—”
“The Captain’s dead, Simon.”
Simon stared in horror. “No! Did — Nathaniel didn’t—”
Gabriel shook his head. “The Captain died in his sleep. Cancer. It wasn’t unexpected.”
“But —”
“We’re in the midst of an election,” Gabriel said. “In some ways, that helped. It’s one reason the authorities wanted us dealt with quickly — hence the plea bargains.”
Simon looked grim. “Who’s running?”
“Mayor Tuan, from Daedalon, as expected.” Gabriel matched Simon’s expression. “And Matthew Tal.”
“Will Tal win?”
“He’s the mayor of a murdered city, Simon. Of course he’ll win.”
This place was getting crowded, and loud. People were chattering like animals in the forest. I could not follow their speech, but I could sense their nervousness and fear. I did not like being here. But Simon, though he looked concerned, was relaxed. Like this was his place. His home.
As the crowd gathered closer, I stepped back, then back again, seeking shadow, and whatever open space I could find.
“The mayor of Octavia’s backing Tal. So are most in the outer cities,” said Gabriel. “Tal would be acclaimed, except Mayor Tuan is staying in the contest. Out of pride, I think.”
“When’s the vote?” asked Simon.
“Right after Nocturne.”