Lightning Tracks

by A. A. Kinsela

  ‘Amaránta?’

  ‘You met her downstairs. She answered the door.’

  He put the dishes down. Mía never allowed him to leave a single plate unwashed. She had strict rules regarding cleaning.

  With a gulp, he pushed thoughts of Mía aside and cast around for something to get his mind off her. ‘So, um, do you know your way around this place?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Feel like giving me a guided tour?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s got to be better than sitting on the stairs.’

  She pursed her lips. ‘You don’t understand much about duty, do you?’

  ‘According to you, I don’t know much about anything. So come on. Educate me.’

  Her mouth twitched, almost into a smile. ‘I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like my definition of duty.’

  ‘How hard is it, really? Being a soldier, I mean. You ride horses through the bush, march around the city, and guard important buildings. Nothing to it.’

  She spun away and snatched up her sword.

  ‘Artemis, wait. I’m sorry. I know you do way more important things than that.’

  ‘You have no idea. None whatsoever.’ She buckled her sheath to her belt.

  ‘You’re right. I’ve still got heaps to learn. I thought you might be able to help me to understand at least some of it. Don’t worry. I’ll explore the place myself.’ He sighed and added, ‘But I haven’t got a great sense of direction, so if you hear me yelling, it’s because I’m lost and I need rescuing.’

  Rolling her eyes, she unhooked her sword and laid it back on the floor. ‘Fine.’

  She led him downstairs to the foyer and showed him the bathroom. It was immense. The bath was set into the floor like a mini swimming pool. Carved stone benches lined the walls, and stacked in each corner were fresh folded towels. Off to one side was a toilet room, which was nothing more than a stone slab with a hole in the centre and a bucket of clean water beside it. A drain with flowing water ran underneath the slab. Nick tried not to think about where it might end up.

  ‘If you want a bath, Amaránta will put the boiler on,’ Artemis explained as they headed back to the apartment.

  Upstairs, Nick discovered some bedrooms with large comfy-looking beds, and a lounge room with a thick woven rug, wide fireplace, several couches, and dozens of cushions. The sundisc carved in the stone above the fireplace had been chiselled away until it resembled a crescent moon.

  As Artemis opened the last door in the corridor, she said, ‘This will be your room.’

  Inside was a huge bed with a burgundy quilt and a mountain of embroidered pillows. A polished copper jug and matching bowl sat on a side table, and a chest of drawers stood in the corner. Everything looked antique, delicate and expensive. It was the sort of place Nick would usually avoid entering in case he damaged something.

  ‘Is every house in Auremos like this?’ he asked.

  She opened the shutters to reveal a small balcony with a great view of the city. ‘No house is like this.’

  She pointed to the cobblestone yard below. ‘That’s Market Square. It can get pretty busy during the day, and it’s always noisy.’

  The square was surrounded by chunky sandstone houses. Tangled gardens covered some of the flat roofs, while others had strings of washing. One rooftop had caved in and trees were growing past its walls. Auremos continued in a sprawling pale tumble till it hit the distant battlements where torchlight outlined the watchtowers. The echo of drums and whistles from the fire night reminded Nick that everyone was celebrating David’s return, and that David seemed to have forgotten that Nick existed.

  ‘What do you think of the city?’ Artemis asked.

  ‘It’s...different.’

  She regarded him with wary curiosity.

  A sharp knock on the front door startled them both. Artemis dashed down the hall and strapped her sword to her belt. Nick waited until she’d sorted her equipment before lifting the latch. A gigantic Bandála soldier with a shaved head and jaw like a bull bar filled the doorway. His black glare rested on Artemis. She straightened, but her show of obedience did nothing to soften the soldier’s stern expression.

  ‘You should know better than to leave your post,’ he growled.

  She paled. ‘Sir, I was just—’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Nick said. ‘I asked her to show me around. She was explaining...’

  The soldier’s skull-crushing stare turned on Nick.

  ‘Um...she was explaining the rules. So I don’t do anything, you know, wrong.’

  ‘Artemis, you are dismissed,’ the soldier said.

  She saluted then scurried down the stairs.

  ‘I am Kráytos,’ he said, stepping into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. ‘I’ll be in charge of your guard.’

  ‘My guard?’

  ‘While you’re in Auremos, you’re not to go anywhere without one of the Bandála soldiers downstairs.’

  ‘Hang on—’

  ‘These are Valerius’ orders. You will obey them.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘If anyone asks you about what happened tonight in the vaults, you say nothing. You also do not mention your full name again. Understand?’

  ‘No, I don’t understand! Why am I under arrest?’

  ‘You aren’t under arrest. You’re in protective custody.’

  Nick muttered under his breath, ‘Is there a difference?’

  ‘In your case, probably not. Is there anything you require?’

  ‘Yes. My freedom.’

  Kráytos looked unmoved. ‘I’ll be stationed downstairs,’ he said. Then he left. Nick followed but stopped when Kráytos turned.

  ‘Go back to your apartment, Nicholas.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because this is what Valerius has ordered.’

  ‘Valerius doesn’t tell me what to do.’

  Kráytos began to climb the stairs, moving with the calm deliberation of a tank. Nick scurried back to the top floor landing. He didn’t stand a chance against this soldier.

  ‘You can’t force me to stay here,’ he said, and slammed the door. He scuffed along the hall to his bedroom, kicked off his boots, perched on the balcony railing, and dangled one grimy, vertigo-tingling foot over the edge.

  He wondered if Mía had ever lied to him about his past. She’d always answered his questions, but she’d often given a cautious response. He thought back to the day she’d lost her temper with David. Nick hadn’t understood most of what was said, but he’d known they were arguing over his tattoo. Now he wondered if that argument had been about more than a circle inked onto his skin.

  If Mía was here, she’d answer all his questions. She’d tell him everything was going to be alright.

  As he gazed across the city and its muddled maze of stone and overgrown rubble, he wondered whether he would ever find the answers he needed. And if he did, would he really want to know the truth?

  Chapter 17: Trial and tribulation

  Cries of the price of fish roused Nick from sleep. He emerged from the folds of crumpled blankets and prised open the shutters. Hot, blinding daylight forced him to squint. Once his eyes had adjusted, he leaned out over the balcony railing, breathing in the fresh bread and sizzling meat.

  Market Square was teeming. Copper necklaces, bracelets and earrings sparkled on trestle tables. Barrels of spices lined one side of the square, and empty baskets cluttered the alleys like a beer can collection. People drifted from stall to stall, bartering with shop owners. The men wore loose shirts and trousers rolled to the knees, and the women’s colourful dresses rippled like graduation robes. Some wore patterned scarves around their heads. Among the colours, Nick spotted several drab-uniformed Bandála soldiers mingling with the crowd.

  Someone knocked on his door.

  ‘Yeah?’ he called in English.

  The knock came again.

  ‘You can come in!’

  When no one entered, he went to the door and
opened it himself. Amaránta hobbled past without a word and placed some folded brown clothes on his bed.

  And then he remembered to switch languages.

  ‘Oh. Ah, thank you,’ he said in Korelian.

  She nodded without meeting his eye and left.

  Nick changed into the clean clothes. The trousers were a bit big for him, so he buckled on a leather belt as well. The shirt was made of soft, pale linen that hid his Arai tattoo well. Amaránta hadn’t provided any new shoes, so he strapped on the brown leather boots he’d stolen from Felix then went to the kitchen and surveyed the contents of the pantry. There was fresh sourdough, dried meat, speckled eggs, tiny orange berries and plump purple fruit he suspected might be a type of tomato. Wrapped in thick cloth was a wheel of cheese that smelled like mouldy dog’s breath. Sacks of grain, seeds and deformed root vegetables were piled on the bottom shelf. His mouth watered as he placed the sourdough loaf and some meat on the table.

  Amaránta shuffled in with an armload of firewood, which she stacked in a wicker basket. Nick lifted a knife from its hook beside the fireplace and inspected the chipped blade. He hacked at the sourdough, scattering crumbs across the table, and held up a massacred lump.

  ‘Do you have anything sharper?’ he asked.

  Amaránta plucked the blade from his grasp and swiped it along the edge of the stone mantle shelf, spattering the fireplace with sparks and leaving scratch marks on the bricks. If Mía had caught Nick doing something as damaging as that to her furniture, he’d have been scrubbing floorboards for a year.

  ‘Er...thanks,’ he said, as Amaránta handed the knife back to him.

  He tucked into his breakfast. The meat was salty with just the right amount of pepper, and the sourdough had a crunchy crust and a spongy centre. It was delicious.

  A rap on the front door caught Amaránta’s attention and she made her way slowly down the hall. Nick polished off the rest of his breakfast just as Artemis reappeared in the kitchen. She leaned on the door frame and crossed her arms, frowning as he scraped crumbs off the table and onto his plate. Her mood appeared to have worsened since last night.

  ‘You really don’t want to be here, do you?’ he said.

  ‘I can think of better things to do than chaperone you,’ she replied. ‘But Valerius is convinced that I’m the best person for the job. So we’re stuck with one another.’

  ‘Sorry to ruin your day,’ he muttered, and emptied his leftovers into the scrap bucket.

  ‘Do you want to go sightseeing?’

  Nick studied her, checking for signs of sarcasm.

  ‘Your hearing’s not till this afternoon. The Council’s got to prepare the paperwork and interview Rayámina and Xanthe before they talk to you.’

  ‘I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave.’

  Artemis lifted a shoulder. ‘As long as you don’t run off again, Valerius doesn’t have to know.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not going to try anything, are you?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go.’

  When they reached the first floor landing, Artemis stopped and turned to face him.

  ‘By the way,’ she said in a low voice, ‘if anyone asks, this was your idea. Not mine.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you give the orders. I’m just your bodyguard.’

  ‘I give the orders?’ He grinned. ‘So does that mean you have to do what I say?’

  ‘Don’t push it.’

  Kráytos stood guard in the foyer, seeming like such a permanent fixture that Nick wondered if he’d moved an inch in the last ten hours.

  ‘Nick has requested to see the baths, sir,’ Artemis said.

  Kráytos unlocked the front door. ‘Make sure he’s back in time for the hearing.’

  As Nick followed Artemis into the bustling Market Square, his attention tripped over new things at every turn. A flash of blue shade cloth over a section of alley where old men sat twisting grass into rope. A burst of song and laughter from some women bent over washing tubs. The aroma of cinnamon and flatbread.

  Someone knocked his shoulder. He turned to apologise and saw a tiny cafe packed with people who squatted on low stools along the wall. A man walked among them, holding a jug on a long handle and topping up small ceramic cups. Nick smelled coffee and shut his eyes for a moment to savour the aroma.

  As he opened his eyes, a girl in a faded blue dress stumbled in front of him. He caught her arm and helped her up, but before he could ask if she was alright, her small, strong fingers tightened around his belt and she yanked him into the nearest alley.

  Pressing him against the wall, she smiled and asked, ‘Want to play, lovely boy?’

  ‘P-play?’

  Her face was so close to his that he could smell the blossom flower tucked behind her ear. Over her shoulder, he saw Artemis scanning the crowd.

  ‘I-I have to go,’ he stammered, prising the girl’s fingers off his belt. ‘I’ll get in trouble.’

  She wriggled free of his grasp and slipped her hand under his shirt, stroking his stomach then working her way around to the small of his back. He’d never been touched like this before, and it both thrilled and terrified him.

  ‘Wait...please...I can’t,’ he said, trying to push her away.

  She hooked his belt again and murmured in his ear, ‘You’re trembling, lovely boy.’

  He gulped. ‘N-no, it’s just that...um...’

  Giggling, she kissed his neck, and her hands ran down his hips, making him gasp.

  All of a sudden, Artemis darted into the alley, grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair, and twisted till she was kneeling on the cobbles and squealing.

  ‘Stop, Artemis! You’re hurting her!’

  She shot him a blistering look. ‘She’s a thief, Nick. Check your pockets.’

  ‘She’s a...what? But—’

  ‘I didn’t take nothing!’ the girl cried. ‘He’s empty. Hasn’t got a single copper on him. Waste of effort.’

  ‘You’d better be telling the truth,’ Artemis warned. ‘Is she telling the truth, Nick?’

  ‘Uh...yeah,’ he replied, feeling stupid. ‘I don’t have anything to steal.’

  Artemis released the fistful of curls, and the girl scurried down the alley without a backward glance.

  ‘Thanks,’ Nick said. ‘I think.’

  ‘I told you not to run!’ Artemis snapped, rounding on him.

  ‘I didn’t! She pulled me off the road.’

  Artemis crossed her arms.

  ‘It’s true! And you didn’t have to be so rough with her. It was hardly a life-threatening situation.’

  ‘You think she didn’t have knives under that dress?’

  When Nick’s jaw dropped, Artemis blew her fringe out of her eyes and grumbled, ‘Keep up, and stop staring at everything. You look easy.’

  ‘What do you mean, easy?’

  ‘Gullible.’

  ‘I’m not easy.’

  ‘Whatever you reckon,’ she muttered, and marched back to the crowded street.

  Nick hurried after her, smoothing down his ruffled shirt and dreadlocks.

  At the entrance to the baths stood a large woman with sleeves rolled to the elbows and flaccid skin that wobbled whenever she moved. A marble bench separated her from her customers like a concrete roadblock. Behind her, at the far end of an arched tunnel, Nick glimpsed a stretch of turquoise water.

  ‘Back again, are you?’ the woman said, glaring down at Artemis. A line of downy black hairs on her upper lip bristled as she spoke.

  Artemis dropped two copper coins onto the counter. ‘Yep. Got a tour lined up.’

  Snatching the money, the woman looked Nick over with disdain. ‘Shoes off.’

  She hobbled to an empty shelf, scraped a metal token from the corner, and swapped it for the two pairs of boots. Nick peered at the token. Stamped on one side was an imprint of a gumleaf. On the other was the Korelian number sixty-three. He pocketed it and followed Artemis through th
e entrance hall.

  Pock-marked sandstone columns supported the covered walkway that encircled a large, open-air swimming pool. A couple of kids raced past, their bare feet slapping the floor, and dive-bombed into the pool. An old man bellowed at them and they scarpered, brown bodies slipping through the water like eels.

  ‘This is the open pool,’ Artemis said, then waved towards some arches. ‘That’s the men’s pool and that one over there is the women’s. There’s a shaded pool out the back.’

  As they strolled around the perimeter, Artemis pointed to one room with steam clogging the doorway, explaining that it was the hot tub room. There were also massage rooms, cold tub rooms, garden courtyards, meeting rooms, more cafés and even a perfumery. Nick’s gaze kept straying back to the water. He longed to jump in, but he remembered the spiked heads at the gate and knew he had to keep his Arai tattoo hidden.

  When they returned to the apartment, they were greeted by Kráytos’s replacement, a surly woman who glared at Nick and Artemis as if the mere sight of them irritated her. Nick caught the scent of coffee drifting from the staircase and went straight up to the kitchen to investigate. Amaránta filled a delicate green cup and handed it to him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, amazed that this old woman seemed to know exactly what he wanted before he even asked. She handed a second, plainer cup to Artemis then shuffled out of the kitchen.

  As Nick inhaled the steam from his coffee he was reminded of Mía’s kitchen. It had never been their kitchen. That room had always belonged to her. When he was small he hadn’t been allowed past the table when the stove was on, and he’d often been banished for crimes of annoyance, disturbance and disobedience, but the delicious smells had always called him back.

  Amaránta’s coffee didn’t taste quite as good as Mía’s.

  Nick studied Artemis over the rim of his cup. She wore her hair in a loose ponytail, with her fringe falling across her cheeks. He knew she was his age—at least, she looked like she was about sixteen—but she acted much older, as if she’d been knocked into adulthood years ago. He remembered the whiplash scars he’d seen on her back, and wondered what she’d done to earn them.