by Peter Newman
It takes a while for the Vagrant to dig a hole big enough. Though his wounds have healed, muscles have not yet found their old strength. Sweat mixes with tears and the sounds of labour as the day wears on.
When it is done, the Vagrant kisses the tips of his fingers and presses them into the earth.
After another round of tears he staggers towards the remaining building. From the deepening shadows he hears a snort, a greeting of sorts, and shakes his head, disbelieving.
If the goat is pleased to see him, she gives no sign.
The Vagrant sits heavily beside her and, after a while, begins to stroke her side.
The suns have almost set now, and the Vagrant’s eyes follow them down. His head begins to go the same way but just as slumber seems certain, there is a crunch and the Vagrant snatches back his hand. Even in the poor light, bony gum marks are easy to see, making a crescent of red across the skin.
Amber eyes glare at the goat.
The goat snorts again, triumphant, before settling down to sleep.
Alpha of The Seven stands in a corner, unobtrusive, his chained head lowered. Theta, Eta and Epsilon box him in, minders, jailers, watchers.
In the middle of the room is a projector, rendering a version of the world in blues and greens.
Beta, Delta, Obeisance and the Knight Commander all look from it to Vesper.
Obeisance is the first to speak. ‘We are here. We are yours to command. What is it you want of us?’
‘Knight Commander Torran, you will prepare what’s left of our forces to go and help those in need. We must relearn the state of the Empire and get food and supplies distributed.’
‘At once,’ he says.
‘Obeisance, do we have still have Lenses in the field?’
‘We do.’
‘Good. I want to know all you can tell me about how the rest of the world is coping. Who is surviving, who is stable, and who needs our help.’
Obeisance inclines her head.
‘I have a lot of changes I want to make here in the Shining City too, but don’t worry,’ she looks at the older woman. ‘I’m not going to do them all at once.’
‘Do as you see fit. We are yours to command.’
Vesper’s answer rings out, bouncing from the walls. ‘No! That time is over. No more blind obedience. We will do this together. If you have objections or questions, you can raise them here. I’m not going to get angry. Remember that with what I’m about to say.’ She looks at them each in turn, feeling a jolt of encouragement from Delta as their eyes meet. ‘Firstly, purging will no longer be compulsory. It has to be a choice, with the risks clearly explained, okay?’
She senses Beta’s concern, knows his question without it needing to be asked. ‘I’m not saying that the tainted can live in the Shining City. Not yet, anyway, but they should have the opportunity to live elsewhere rather than be purged or killed. In many cases there’s no difference between the two.’ She checks for further objections but none are given. ‘Oh and we need a new name for the taint. Something less … loaded. I was thinking about calling it “the change” instead. It’s something we need to understand and face up to rather than fear.
‘Second, we have to stop teaching that all infernals are evil.’
‘We have already done this,’ replies Obeisance.
‘Only in a weak way. Nobody really took it to heart, and The Seven’s actions undermined all of that. This time, the word will come direct from us, and we need to back it up. I’ve been thinking about how to do that and I think it has to be through experience.’
The Knight Commander looks shocked. ‘You want our people to experience the infernal?’
‘Exactly!’
‘Forgive me, Vesper, but this is madness. Even if the demons could be trusted, we would be wilfully spreading the taint.’
‘The change,’ corrects Vesper. ‘Try it out.’
‘Change or taint, the threat of exposure is just as serious.’
‘I’ve thought about this too. There is an infernal that I trust, and that has enough control over its essence to not change others: The Man-shape. I’ve talked to it and it’s willing.’ She smirks at a memory. ‘Actually, it’s quite excited by the idea of meeting so many people. I want a house built for it outside the shields and a timetable developed for visitors. The first ones should be picked for their open-mindedness, we want good word spreading, not bad. I’ll accompany them myself, to make sure everything’s safe. You’ll both be coming too, of course.’
Obeisance hides her discomfort ably, the Knight Commander does not.
‘And Beta and Delta will be in the second round.’
Neither immortal objects, both having come to terms with the idea some time ago.
‘Good! Third and last, for the moment, is the choirs.’
‘What about them?’ asks Obeisance.
‘They have to go. From now on, parents should be told which baby is theirs and they should be allowed to watch them grow in the tubes. When the babies are ready to come out, the parents should raise and educate them.’
‘But without the choirs, how will they know what to do?’
‘Don’t worry,’ replies Vesper. ‘I’ve thought about that too.’
Years pass and storms come and go, settling into a calmer rhythm, more frequent than before.
In the north, just past the Shining City, a new house sits on a hill. It is an unlikely structure, haphazard, with a lean to the roof, and a number of extensions sprawling outward that look as if they belong to other buildings.
It is the subject of many jokes.
It is also a home and a farm and a school. On days when the weather is bad, it is filled with noisy children and parents slowly recovering from shock.
On brighter days, everyone is outside, running, playing, talking and singing. Goats are named, adopted, milked and fed. The braver children take treats into what has become known as the lair.
Often, Delta of The Seven can be found nearby, cradling her sword and showing it what transpires. Sometimes they join in the singing.
A man with a black hand and amber eyes can be found here. The lines on his face made by smiling gradually catching up ones made from a lifetime of frowns.
In the evenings children gather round in a circle and he sits down. In front of him he places figures carved from wood: a tall knight, a taller woman, a giant with a girl’s face, a child with a sword, a woman with a gun, and a man with a kindly demeanour, more carefully carved than the rest.
And, in a soft voice, he tells their story.
Acknowledgements
As we come to the end of the Vagrant’s story, I can’t help but feel reflective. It’s been a strange and wonderful few years, and I’ve been lucky to meet with, and work with, a load of great people. Some of whom, I’m happy to say, have become friends. I’d like to shower general appreciation on all the book ninja at HarperVoyager who work from the shadows, and give a shout-out to the awesome Team Mushens, and to all the booksellers who have done so much.
Also, in no particular order, I’d like to thank:
Juliet Mushens … For being fabulous. For having fabulous cats and sending me pictures of them. For all the support, advice, and for making me smile. Over the last three years every single email and call from her has left me feeling better. Best. Agent. Ever.
Jen Williams … For her friendship, and for teaching me the true power of the dark side of the (email)force.
Natasha Bardon … For being the first person to cry over one of my books. For always making my stories better and longer (value for money!). Also for providing steak, pasties and cocktails at critical points in the publishing process.
Jaime Jones … For those covers! I can’t imagine the series without them.
Joy Chamberlain … For saving the general public from my writing eccentricities! And for always being so positive about my work.
Emma Newman … For, well, pretty much everything really.
And you … For reading. Thank you. I
hope you’ve enjoyed this journey as much as I have.
Also by Peter Newman
The Vagrant
The Malice
Short Stories
The Hammer and the Goat
The Vagrant and the City
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