As it turned out, she was actually looking back over her shoulder when the hydrant shorted, and so saw the flash of its dissolution. It was short, just a flicker, but it lit the river across to the far bank under the ice, a blue snap of light in the darkness. Silent, for that one second.
Then the entire surface of the river, the docks, the boats on their ramps, the barrels and coils of rope and the other warehouses, everything outside the city wall for a hundred metres in every direction simply flew up and apart in a vast explosion of water, fractured ice and superheated steam. Red, Godolkin, and everyone standing in the dock gate and the yard beyond was blasted clean off their feet.
Screams erupted around her. Red rolled over, dazed, and saw wreckage soaring over her head. A boat, completely intact, went whirling end over end, clearing the top of the wall by metres, and arced down to shatter a house at the far end of the yard.
It was raining too, hot rain, steaming as it fell.
Red staggered to her feet. Godolkin was hauling himself up. Trewpeny, flung from his grip by the blast, was lying crumpled in a heap some distance away.
The yard was emptying as those within it got up and ran, howling. In moments, Red knew, it would start to fill again.
She didn't want to be around when that happened. "Godolkin?"
"I am here, mistress. Shall I collect the boy?"
"Yeah." She shook herself, scraping wood fragments out of her hair. "Sneck," she muttered. "If you're going to blow your cover, girl, there's nothing like doing it in style..."
She watched as Godolkin picked Trewpeny up and dragged him away and then ran to follow them. Most of those within the yard had left along a street to the west, running along the city wall, and Godolkin was heading the same way.
Red had just reached him when half a dozen men stepped out of the shadows to block his path.
They weren't marshals, she saw with some relief, nor Endura but they carried a mixture of clubs and swords, and they looked less than friendly.
Godolkin slowed. "Stand aside," he growled.
"No, giant, we'll not." A tall man, fair-haired and clad in a heavy black cloak, had stepped ahead of his fellows. "You've got something of ours."
"Which is?"
The man pointed at Trewpeny. "Him."
Red skated to a halt. The rain had stopped, and the water that lay on the cobbles was already freezing, making the street slippery. "He was taking us to see you," she gasped, steadying herself against a wall. "In the warehouse."
"I know."
"Well then?" She glanced back over her shoulder. Bells were being rung, out in the night, and she could hear running feet. "If we're going to go, let's go. I don't fancy trying to explain this to the marshals."
The man nodded. "Very well and once we're away, I'd very much like to hear you explain it to me."
11. FALLEN STAR
The docks were on fire. Red could see the light of the flames halfway across the city, a roiling orange glow beyond the peaked roofs. As the Daedalus operatives took her and Godolkin north through the city, she had to resist the temptation to look back at the fires at every possible opportunity. Not that she would have looked odd for doing so, as almost everyone on the street was either staring at the flames or running towards them. But she had been told, with considerable vehemence by the blond man, that there was simply no time to stand about and gawp.
Red had taken some exception to that, but she was eager enough to meet Daedalus that she was prepared to forget it, for the moment, at least.
The journey from the dockyard to the safe-house was, in a word, labyrinthine. The Daedalans didn't lead her and Godolkin along so much as herd them, in a complex, fluid manner that Red had never witnessed before. The route was winding, as she had expected, with numerous turnings and several complete loops back across their own path. This was nothing new - if Red had wanted to get several people from A to B without being followed by the local law enforcement, that was exactly what she would do. What she wasn't prepared for was how the group with her changed almost continually.
At times the blond man was with them, at others he just vanished, fading into the shadows to scout the way ahead or make sure they were not being followed. Others came and went in a similar fashion. In fact, the entire group was fluid: its size changed from moment to moment, and its membership was just as mutable. There had been at least one occasion when Red found herself walking along on her own.
It was a superb camouflage tactic, and one that was obviously well-practised but it wouldn't have worked if Daedalus had been at all short of manpower. During a half-hour's trip, Red counted at least thirty new faces joining the group as others left, not to mention those half-seen helpers who were there to open a door at the right time, to unlock a gate or move a loaded wagon from in front of a previously concealed alleyway.
Godolkin noticed it too. At one point, when the two of them were being guided under the very stilts of a watchtower, he leaned close enough to whisper to her. "An extensive network."
"I'll say," Red muttered. When she had first started to hear about Daedalus she had gotten the notion that it consisted of nothing more than a few fanatics, a small group of technophiles ruthlessly hunted by the Endura for their heresy. Now that she had seen them in action, she was starting to wonder if it wasn't the Endura who were outnumbered.
Daedalus certainly seemed to be better organised.
Red had been given a cloak before they set off, and she kept it wrapped tightly around herself. It wasn't all that warm, and she missed the multiple layers of robes she had left in the warehouse. Even so, she didn't feel half as cold as she had done before her feed. The halberdier's blood had transformed her.
She was already shrugging off the effects of the fall, and of having half a warehouse drop onto her head. Even the cuts and bruises she had received in the explosion were fading. Her night-vision was piercingly sharp, so much so that the flickering lanterns they passed were almost too bright to look at, and she knew that if she chose she could be away from this shifting crowd of heretics before any of them had even realised she was gone. It wouldn't last, but while the stuff was new and hot in her belly it made her feel invincible.
That, she knew, was a dangerous thing to feel. She worked on fighting the overconfidence down, took some of the swagger from her stride, and tried to focus on the job at hand.
The journey ended in front of a church, in the far north of Igantia. Red noticed that the six men surrounding her now were, for the first time, those who had picked her up outside the dockyard, as though some cycle had finally been completed.
The blond man, once again at the head of his people, rapped twice on the church door.
There was silence for a while. Red took an opportunity to look the building over. It was a mid-sized place, the usual mix of dark timber and white plaster, single-storeyed but with a shallow dome towards the rear. The right side of the church was open to an alley, but the left butted against a smaller building that Red couldn't identify.
This structure was a complete contrast to the church; abandoned, partially collapsed, and so dark that it seemed to vanish into the shadows.
It wasn't the first ruined building Red had seen, but standing against the gleaming church it seemed a symbol of the city's decay. The places of worship thrived, while starving families chopped the timbers from their homes for firewood.
There was a sound from behind the door, heavy and metallic, and a moment later the door swung inwards. A hand's width of yellow light, punctuated partway down by a grizzled human face, appeared between it and the frame.
The face took on a quizzical expression. "Can I help you?"
"Bless me father," said the blond man, stepping forwards. "For I have sinned."
The face in the door turned slightly, towards the distant flames. "Someone damn well has. So, my son, do you required absolution?"
"I do, father and my companions also."
"Very well. It seems the Lord's work is never done..." The face, w
hich Red could only assume was that of the resident priest, vanished, and a moment later the door swung back.
The blond man stepped in first and then gestured for Red and Godolkin to follow. Slowly the whole troop of them filed in, except for two of the Daedalus men. They disappeared into the night, as the door closed behind them.
Red looked back at the sound of heavy bolts being slammed home, and saw the priest attaching a fat padlock to the chain that held them and locking it. When he was done, he turned and gave her an odd, appraising look.
"So," he said, putting the key into a pocket in his robes. "So these are the ones. The star-fallen."
The blond man shrugged. "So it would seem."
"And young Trewpeny. Back from the dead again. You're a magnet for trouble, boy."
Trewpeny bowed slightly, but said nothing. The priest was already addressing the blond man.
"Well, Bill, things have taken an unexpected turn, haven't they? There's no time for dawdling. I'm to take them straight in."
He turned away and began walking swiftly up the nave, his robes flapping.
The blond man, Bill, gave a shrug and then followed. His companions did the same, taking Red with them.
Red glanced about as she stepped in, quickly gauging the layout. She noted the positions of the doors, the double row of pews, the altar and which of its candlesticks and crucifixes could be used as weapons, should the need arise.
Old habits, she told herself, and useful ones. There was something about this church that didn't feel very holy to her.
The priest had reached the altar already. He paused there, genuflecting as he did so and then made his way around it. "Did you see many marshals?" he called, over his shoulder. The blond man shook his head.
"Almost none. They're all down at the docks, I'll bet, trying to keep a lid on things."
"They'll have it tough and it leaves the field open for those white-clad bastards to do as they please." The priest was padding around behind the altar, "I beg God that your new friends haven't given Makeblise the very opening he needs."
"I am here, you know," Red said grimly. "You can talk to me."
"In good time." There was a door behind the altar. The priest pulled it open, reached around inside and felt for something just inside the frame. There was a sharp click from behind the wall, and Red whirled as a sudden breeze brushed the back of her neck.
Another door, concealed in wooden panelling, had swung open behind her.
The priest came over and held the new door open for her. A small, dimly-lit room lay beyond. "If you please, my lady?"
Red was suddenly unsure. There was something here that felt desperately wrong, just as it had back in the warehouse. She could smell no blood, and see no damage, but the feeling was real, twisting her gut.
"Why?" she asked quickly. "What's in there?"
"Safety," replied the blond man. Red gave him a sour glare.
"Oh yeah? Whose?"
"My lady, please." That was Trewpeny. He moved past her, bending his slender frame to duck past her and through the door. "I've been here. It's just a meeting-room, that's all. Nothing to worry about."
Godolkin's face came down close to her ear. "Is this not what you wanted, Blasphemy?"
"Yes. It's just..." Red shook her head. There was no way she could put her reservations into words anyway. "Balls. Let's do it."
She took a deep breath, and stepped through.
The room beyond was actually a short hallway, angling away from the side of the church and leading into the derelict building next door. Once through its doors, Red saw that Trewpeny was only partially correct in his estimation of the place: it was indeed just a meeting hall, but it contained plenty to worry about.
The hall was bigger than she had been expecting. The ruin must have been a clever fake - the space within was large, and well-lit with bright lanterns, yet from the outside there had been no indication it was anything but a wreck. Red had to admit she was impressed.
There were about a dozen people in the hall, and none of them looked very happy.
A big circular table dominated the chamber, and the occupants sat around it. There was, Red noted, a reasonably equal mix of men and women, young and old. No particular demographic she could name. In Igantia, which tended to follow quite patrician lines, this was somewhat refreshing.
A few chairs were unoccupied. Red went straight to the nearest one and sat down, stretching her legs out under the table. "Hello," she said brightly. "Lovely night."
The priest sat down next to her. Godolkin stayed by the door, as did Bill. She saw the two men eyeing each other warily, and smirked.
"Star-fallen," called a man from across the table. He was quite old, with bushy white eyebrows that met in the centre of his forehead. "We are honoured to have you with us. I only wish it were under better circumstances."
He was talking to Godolkin. The Iconoclast's head turned slowly, his expression unreadable. Red knew that face. It was as close as Godolkin ever got to amusement.
"Sir," he replied. "If you assume that I am the leader here, you are much mistaken."
The grey-haired man stared uncomprehendingly at him for a second or two, and then looked worriedly at Red.
She grinned at him, toothily. "Hi," she said.
He blinked. "My lady, I do apologise. I thought-"
"Yeah, I know. Anyway..." She straightened up in her seat, and unfastened the robe, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the floor. "Even though that 'star-fallen' thing is really pretty, the name's Durham Red."
"I... I see..." The man's eyes, and those of many other men at the table, were no longer fixed on her face. Red, who knew exactly how revealing her outfit was, tried not to be too amused by this. Igantia was a very different place from those she normally frequented.
She jerked a thumb back at the Iconoclast. "That's Matteus Godolkin. I have another companion, a man called Judas Harrow, but I think the Endura have him. That's part of the reason I'm here."
"My lady," snapped a young woman to her right. "You are here because you were brought here. There are claims to be investigated!"
Red frowned. "What claims? I haven't claimed a damn thing."
"Durham Red, please." The priest raised his hands in a placating gesture. "You must understand, even meeting you is hard for us. Believing that you really do hail from a world beyond ours is more difficult than you can imagine."
The grey-haired man piped up again. "Star-fallen, our people have been taught for two centuries that God destroyed every world but ours, that the bitter tears he rained on Purity had wiped humankind from the face of the universe. We were alone and we never, not once in two hundred years, saw any evidence to the contrary."
The woman slapped her hand down on the tabletop. "All that is immaterial now, Rudhale!"
"It provides context, Sarah, if nothing else."
"It wastes time."
"Yeah, actually." Red folded her arms. "Much as I hate to agree with the Lady Snarky-Bitch over there, she's right. We are wasting time. My companion, remember? In prison?"
The priest sighed. "This was not exactly how we had envisioned this meeting going, star-fallen."
"Really."
"Oh no. We had many questions to ask you, and there would have been much to discuss but I fear recent events have caused that to fall by the wayside."
The woman, Sarah, half rose. "At this moment, star-fallen, there is only one question we have for you: what did you do to the city docks!"
"That wasn't me."
"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe."
"And you'll forgive me if I find it hard not to come around there and put your head through that table, love. Trust me, I'll do it if you talk to me like that again, all right?"
Sarah sat back down, slowly. Red held her gaze until she was back in her seat.
"Right, like I said. The docks went up because of your Endura. I was just along for the ride."
"How do you mean?" another woman
asked, quite respectfully this time.
Red rubbed her forehead. "Okay, just to get things moving. Trewpeny here was trying to get us to the safe-house on the docks, the one in the warehouse? But when we got there, I smelled blood and went in on my own."
"You smelled blood?" That was the priest. Red flashed a fang at him.
"I'm good at it."
He swallowed. "I see..."
"Anyway, somebody had killed everyone before I got there. I found a couple of Endura soldiers poking about upstairs, so I guess it was them. Now that I think about it..." Red trailed off, frowning. The bodies in the warehouse had been smashed apart, but not burned. She had been so involved with other events that she'd not really considered the way they had died. She had just assumed the Endura were responsible.
The worry she had felt at the warehouse, and back in the church, came back strongly. She shivered. "One of them had a weapon. It fired energy out, lots of it. He was so busy chasing me with it that he didn't realise he was carving the warehouse up too. The whole building came down and dumped us both onto the ice."
Bill had moved closer to the table while she related this last part. He leaned closer to the priest. "The lightning gun?"
"Impossible!"
"That's what it sounds like. My lady?"
"Hm?"
"This weapon. Did it have a connecting part?"
"Yeah. A hose that went round to a backpack. What, you've heard of it?"
"It's possible, my lady. There have been rumours... Although why Makeblise would authorise its use against a minor safe-house is a mystery. Please, continue."
She shrugged. "There's not much else to tell. The weapon must have come down with the trigger jammed, because it ate its way through the ice. When it hit the water-" She spread her fingers apart to simulate an explosion. "Wham."
Trewpeny was sitting bolt upright in his seat, his eyes wide. "My lady," he began.
"Be still lad," said the priest, shaking his head. "We've been through this."
"No, father, I've got to ask!"
There were murmurs of disapproval from around the table, which was good enough for Red. "Ask what, Anton?"
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