The Seer

by Jordan Reece

  “In the badlands? No. I’m not going to die by the venom of a click-clack snake, or in the claws of a mountain cat, or the hundred other dangerous creatures out there. There’s a reason this train doesn’t run at night, and why nobody lives out here. If Grance jumps, good luck to her.” They sat down. The thatches of grass had turned to naked ground, and it was cracked like a giant pane of brown glass to fall from the heavens. Coming up were massive, scattered boulders and towering crags, and they too looked like they had been dropped from the stars to shatter upon the earth.

  Every time footsteps went by their compartment, Scoth got up to see whom it was. An eternity passed before Cheffie returned, and he was shaking his head as he entered. “They’re not on the train, your people.”

  In exasperation, Jesco said, “We saw them running for it!”

  “But you didn’t see them make it, did you? I walked every car on the way to the brig, and had to walk them again to get back here. Plenty of ladies and plenty of gents, but none matching your descriptions.”

  This was absurd. Jesco wondered if the old man’s vision was failing. With dangerous calm, Scoth said, “Is the brig free and clear?”

  “Oh, yes, they didn’t put anything in it this time. I got on them after the last. Are you going to arrest the man in first class then?”

  “Not at the moment. I’ll walk the cars and have another look.”

  “They’re not there. I checked real carefully both times. They’re back at the station, I tell you, and planning to ride the train tomorrow. If you swing back on the morning train from Port Adassa, you can arrest them on the platform.”

  “Thank you,” Scoth said, and the guard went away.

  “Well?” Jesco said.

  His lips thinning, Scoth said, “This is ridiculous. He must have missed them. I’m walking each car. Stay-”

  “No.” Jesco followed him out the door, and they crossed the shifting metal plates to the next car. Scoth gave him a dirty look and Jesco understood that it had much more to do with this new problem than anything Jesco had done. They turned to the passengers and got to work.

  No one was in the lavatory when Scoth opened the door, and Jesco proceeded down the aisle. There were men and women reading newspapers and bouncing babies in their laps, sleeping with their hats tilted to shield their eyes, and gazing out the windows. Old and young, dressed everywhere from demure to brazen, a few of them looked at Jesco and Scoth in disinterest and most didn’t bother to look up at all. The car was only three-quarters full, and some had stretched out over the unoccupied seats with jackets for blankets and pillows. One had covered himself up from head to foot, and Scoth lifted the jacket off the sleeping man’s face to peek at him. It wasn’t Yvod.

  There were many cars in the train, and the wind was very strong in the times they were crossing between them. It made Jesco nervous, and he was always relieved to get inside the next car. They went from one to another, waiting outside lavatories to see who exited, and knocking on quarter compartments that had the curtains drawn. There were only two of those, and when people answered, Jesco apologized for disturbing them accidentally.

  When they came to the third class cars, it became harder to search. The seats were smaller and all of them were occupied. There weren’t nearly enough to go around, so dozens of people were standing and holding onto bars for balance. Anyone who got up for the lavatory or to retrieve luggage from overhead had their seat stolen, and several voluble arguments were going on as Jesco and Scoth walked through. A child of about eight was whining to his father that he couldn’t stand for six hours, and when he was ignored, he punched his father’s side in a tantrum. A white-haired woman exclaimed, “Aren’t you a great big baby? For shame!” Outraged, the child shrieked, “I’m not a baby! I’m not a baby!” The father still did nothing. The boy’s shrieks only cut off once Jesco got to the end of the car and closed the door behind him.

  The little gymnasts were a sharp contrast in the next car. One was holding up another on his shoulders, and the child on top was holding the bar. People chuckled at the picture they made. The children smiled and waved. The others were squashed onto two seats, eagerly trading postcards, and one was minding a watch so that they could trade off with the children who were standing. In the back of the car, several women were singing and holding onto a stretcher, where an extremely aged woman was laying down under a woolen blanket. She looked over to Jesco when he passed and cried with joy, “Arlen! You’re Arlen!”

  “No, I’m not,” Jesco said, but in a gentle voice.

  Eagerly, she tried to take his hand. Seeing that she had on no rings, and not wanting her memories in his glove, he removed it and let her grasp his bare fingers. Hers were very cold, but her eyes were warm and full of recognition. “You come to the shore with me. Come to the shore, Arlen, with these girls. We’re going so I can watch the tide come in one last time.” The women smiled at Jesco. They were hospice workers, according to the blue bands on their arms.

  One leaned forward and said, “Tell me about Arlen, Mrs. Kamb.”

  She let Jesco go and faced the woman. “He was my beau in university. I was in the first class of women admitted to Nuiten and he couldn’t take his eyes off me.” Another worker motioned for Jesco to move on while the dying woman was distracted. He slipped away to the door, putting his glove back on. There were few attendants minding the cars in third class; each appeared to have several cars to oversee and strolled about between them.

  They had gone through a dozen cars now, and there was still no sign of Grance or Yvod. The thirteenth was the car reserved for people traveling with small animals. It was packed, and the noise was deafening. Dogs were barking, cats hissing and meowing, birds tweeting and flying about in their cages, and there were even little pigs on leashes. A woman was feeding a tiny black lamb that had been outfitted in a diaper. It sucked greedily at a bottle and butted it for more. Milk splashed all over its face.

  Posted at the back door of the car was a sign. No passengers were allowed past this point, and the door was locked when Scoth tried it. He looked back through the car and waved to an attendant stepping out of the lavatory. She came to the back.

  As Scoth took out his badge, she said cheerfully, “No more passenger cars back there! Got to move up the cars if you’re looking for seats.”

  “Let us through, please,” Scoth said. “Police business.”

  “Oh!” She took out a ring of keys and searched through them. “Looking for someone? There’s nothing back there but our supplies car, snacks and such, and the freight cars after that.”

  “Could anyone board the supplies or freight cars?” Scoth asked.

  She stared at her keys in confusion. All of them looked completely alike. “I keep a bit of string on the one to the door but it’s fallen off. Bloody help there, eh?” Picking one out, she inserted it in the door. It didn’t turn. “The supplies car can be boarded, that’s the next one down, but we shoo people out of there if they climb in by accident. Sometimes we get a person down one car further where we stow the post and some luggage. Everything beyond that is freight, and those cars can’t be boarded. They’re fully enclosed. But we get people now and then clinging to the bars for a free ride. Some of them fall off in the badlands.”

  The fourth key turned and she pulled open the door. Raising her voice to be heard over a furious gale of wind and the sound of the train clacking on the tracks, she said, “But I had a quick look-see in those cars once we’d pulled away, and Cheffie did afterwards. There’s no one back there.” She didn’t lock the door behind them, assuming that they would be right back. Jesco and Scoth crossed over to supplies as the woman walked away into the last third class car.

  Both stopped to rub sand out of their eyes once they were inside. It was being carried by the wind. Then they took a look at the car. Big buckets were bolted to the floor, all of them covered and labeled, and there were shelves likewise bolted to the walls with their contents barred in. Food and water, medical supplies an
d pillows, it was so well packed that nothing even rattled as the train hurtled on.

  The brig was a small, barred room without any feature but a bench. A sign warned to place a bucket inside if the person happened to be drunk. “They missed the train,” Jesco said, having no choice but to accept it. “It doesn’t matter. We can camp out at the Port Adassa station tomorrow evening when it’s due to come back. They’ll just take a room at some inn at Lowele for the night.”

  “I’m going to check the post car,” Scoth said, his voice heavy with defeat.

  They passed between the cars. The train was shooting through sandy hills. An old wagon wreck was out there, the tongue down in the sand, two of the wheels gone and the ragged bonnet waving in the breeze. Then it was out of view. Scoth opened the door to the post car and let Jesco in first.

  He heard the loud laughter of a man, although he could see nothing through staggered banks of shelving units. Pivoting, he squeezed Scoth’s arm hard. Scoth closed the door quietly and stood still beside Jesco.

  The laughter was coming from the back of the car. An exasperated sigh replaced it, and a female voice said, “Stop trying to break into that! Who cares to read a bunch of strangers’ mail?”

  “We should swap it all,” the man responded. “Open them up very carefully, slip out the letters, and stuff them into other envelopes before sealing them up again.”

  “Because that’s amusing to you?”

  He grunted over metal scraping. “Why . . . are these . . . all locked?”

  “So people like you don’t get into the mail and have a lark with it,” the woman replied. Jesco knew her voice from Hasten Jibb’s memories. He gave Scoth a small nod and mouthed it’s her. Slipping around Jesco, the detective peeked down the aisle. Jesco crouched and did the same.

  In the staggered banks, boxes were stacked and restrained with wires on the shelves. Many of them held tabloids and special editions of newspapers, with their final destination printed on the side of Port Adassa, Dorset, or Thilian. Beyond the shelving units were giant buckets filled with oversize luggage, some of which belonged to Top Line. One of the bags was open and had spilled juggling balls on the floor. They were rolling about within the car. Past the buckets were individual compartments, and it was from those that the voices were coming.

  Sounding even more exasperated, Grance said, “Will you stop? Let’s just go up to first class and see if Papa is-”

  “Oh, come on! We have alcohol and we have each other. What else do we need? He must think we missed the train and is right now working himself into a jolly good temper. Imagine his face when we step out onto the platform and he can’t shout at us about anything. Besides, this way we ride for free.” The metal scraping had ceased. Now there was an unsteady slapping sound. A ball ran out of one compartment and the man said, “Think I should take my show on the road, Grancie? I’ll call it Yvod’s Bouncing Balls.”

  “What’ll the horse do?” Grance asked. “You realize you left it right there in the middle of the road with the carriage?”

  “It’ll just stand there until the train brings me back in the fall.”

  “It’ll be stolen by then.”

  “Then I’ll buy another one.”

  Scoth pulled back and Jesco whispered, “Should we get Cheffie?”

  “He won’t be any kind of help,” Scoth hissed. “There are only two of them. I can handle it.” Removing a pair of cuffs, he rounded the shelves and started for the compartments briskly.

  Neither Grance nor Yvod heard him coming. The train was making noise and the balls were rolling and thumping into everything. Jesco crept after Scoth, stepping warily so he wouldn’t trip on the balls. It was more than one bag that had been opened, he saw when he passed the luggage in the buckets. Several had been rummaged through, and so had the boxes of newspapers in the banks.

  Suddenly, Yvod stepped out of the compartment. He was walking backwards while juggling three balls, his eyes fixed upon them. Catching one, he noticed Scoth and Jesco coming. The others fell to the floor as he smiled gallantly. His color was high like he had had quite a lot to drink. “Can you show us the way to first class? I think we boarded the wrong c-”

  “Yvod Kodolli, you are under arrest,” Scoth said, whipping out and grasping Yvod’s arm. The cuff was slapped on faster than the man could react, but he began to struggle when Scoth attempted to take his other arm.

  “What is this?” Yvod yelled, breaking away and backing up. “We’re just on the wrong car! You can’t arrest us for that.”

  “You’re under arrest for the murder of Hasten Jibb and for the illegal distribution of rucaline,” Scoth said. To the first charge, Yvod gave Scoth a look like he was insane. But to the second, the color drained out of his face. His free hand dove into his pocket and he pulled out a switchblade.

  “Grancie!” he shouted as he lunged for Scoth. Scoth moved lightning-fast. Grabbing Yvod’s forearm, he slapped the back of the man’s hand with a hard blow. Yvod lost his grip on the switchblade, which flew away and hit the wall. Scoth whirled him around and tried to get the second cuff on.

  Grance Dolgange appeared in the doorway to the compartment, her eyes wild. “Get him, Yvod!” she shouted.

  Then she saw Jesco’s gloves, and she understood without a word exchanged between them. Losing color just like her brother had, she turned away from Scoth and Yvod as they wrestled. She ran for the back of the car, her fingers flying up to the side of her head where she removed her hoop earring with a frantic jerk.

  Her jewelry. She wanted to ensure that Jesco didn’t get hold of her jewelry. Those were the earrings he had observed through Patty when Grance was giving over the bicycle. She had to have worn those at the party and Jesco would see what had happened through them!

  Yvod dove for the switchblade and Scoth landed bodily on top of him. Leaping the struggling pair, Jesco sprinted for the back of the car where Grance was rolling open the door. She took several steps onto the shifting walkway and cried out when she realized that she could not board the freight car behind this one. There was no door, only a flat, featureless wall. Jesco passed the compartments and made it to the doorway.

  Wobbling on the metal plates that connected the cars, Grance hurled her earring over the side. Her hands went to the second earring and she fought to remove it while staying balanced. Jesco stepped out after her and reached for her arm, shouting, “Stop!”

  She twisted away, blinking hard at sand in her eyes. Both of them reeled as the plates shifted with the turning of the train. He grabbed hold of the chain as the second earring dropped from her fingers.

  From her dress pocket came a blade. Slashing it through the air in warning, she yanked off her necklace and hurled it away. As it vanished into the sand, Jesco said, “The police will comb every inch of the ground along the tracks to get it back, Grance!”

  She laughed harshly and slashed a second time. As he moved back, she yanked off her huge ring of diamonds. Then that was gone too, and she said, “Let them search! By the time they find anything, I’ll be far from Ainscote.”

  Something slammed in the car, and dimly came Scoth’s cry of warning. “Jesco, watch o-”

  It happened too fast. Yvod seized Jesco from behind and propelled him forward onto the walkway, Grance lunging forward with her blade. The metal plates squealed under their feet and rotated with the train as it went around a curve. Pain burned in his side and he’d been stabbed . . .

  It was not the first time that he had been stabbed, no, not with all the memories he had taken in from others, and the shock of it gave way quickly. Grance withdrew the blade and flailed for the chain as the train kept turning. Jesco fell back onto Yvod, who tried to push him over the side. Clinging to him, Jesco refused to be dislodged. Yvod lost his balance and they tumbled back into the car.

  As the two fell, Jesco had a split second view of Scoth pounding on the locked door of a compartment, his face frantic as he stared out the small window. Metal grating had been placed over it. The floo
r rushed up and Jesco had no time to catch himself on anything. His head cracked against it and the world went black.

  -he was-

  -he was-

  -he was washing this nasty mess on the floor-

  “Stuff him into that one,” Grance was commanding when Jesco returned to himself. He had touched something that sent him into a thrall, but he was no longer in contact with it. Still too stunned to move, and feeling warm blood pumping from his side, he remained limp as he was dragged into a compartment.

  “Let’s toss him off the train, and that one, too,” Yvod said. Scoth was still pounding in the other compartment.

  Sarcastically, Grance said, “And if the driver or someone looks back and sees them? If the train has sensors along the roof attuned for that kind of thing? The train will stop. The train will stop, Yvod.”

  “Then what do we do?” Yvod said. They were arguing out in the aisle that ran between the compartments. Jesco stayed very still.

  “We need to get higher in the train. Go back into that suitcase and take out those wigs you found earlier, and a shawl for me. That one is locked in and this one will bleed out. And keep your hand in your pocket so no one sees the cuffs. We’ll take care of that later.”

  “We should strip him, or else some other seer will . . .”

  “Don’t be such an idiot! In three hours or so, we’ll be at Port Adassa. We’ll book passage on the next ship leaving and be gone. Let a fleet of seers peep through his clothes for all the good it will do them. Now come on! Close the door to that compartment. No one will find him until the postal worker goes in for the mail. I’ll get the back door.”

  Jesco kept his eyes closed and held his breath as footsteps neared. One set went past the compartment that he was in, and the second set entered. “Nice gloves,” Yvod said mildly. Jesco felt a tugging at his hands as his gloves were slid off.

  “Damn!” Grance said.

  Yvod returned to the aisle. “What is it?”

  “You busted the door to outside somehow when you two fell in. Every time I close it up, it just slides back open.”