“It’s not the same,” Lazarus said sourly. He reached into the chest and drew out a small book with a powder-blue cover. “In any case, we have come to the crux of my tale. While my punishment was to be sentenced to Landfall, Edyta was treated far more unkindly. My brothers in the Crimson Shield wished to punish me for causing disgrace to the order, and so they hurt me in the most horrendous way possible. Through her. They…”
“Go on,” Knile prompted.
“They spread lies about Edyta. They slandered her name, told tales of her sleeping with half the men in the Consortium, whoring out her body to gain favour. And more, they said that she sold Consortium secrets for her own profit. My brothers in the Crimson Shield sought to utterly annihilate her reputation, and they succeeded.” Lazarus pressed a hand against his forehead. “She was cast down into the Cellar like a common criminal. She was a gentle soul, a pure soul, not meant for that place. She died there not long after, like a radiant flower cast into the depths of the sewer.”
Lazarus went silent and stood staring at the book in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Knile said sincerely. “People who are capable of that kind of cruelty don’t even deserve to be called human.”
Lazarus nodded. “And so, here lies your task.” He handed the powder-blue book to Knile. The word Diary was written in cursive font on the cover.
“I don’t get it,” Knile said. “What do I do?”
“In the Consortium Infirmary on Level Two-Hundred and Ten of the Reach lies an old woman named Tosia. She is dying. She is also Edyta’s mother. When the lies and slurs about Edyta began to circulate, her mother was horrified. She disowned Edyta, believing her family had been dishonoured forever. Edyta died before she ever had the chance to clear her name.” Lazarus laid his huge right hand on the book. “This is Edyta’s diary. It chronicles all of the most important events of her life, from the time she was a small girl until the day she was sentenced to the Cellar.”
Knile opened the diary and caught a glimpse of pages filled with neat, flowing handwriting, but Lazarus gently closed it again before he could read anything.
“Please, this is not for your eyes, Knile.”
“Sorry.”
Lazarus returned to the chest. “I want you to give the diary to Tosia. She will know it is legitimate by what is written inside – chronicles of events that only Edyta could have known. Tosia will read the truth about Edyta and myself, about the purity and sanctity of our love. She will see the lies for what they really are.” He breathed inward deeply. “Edyta’s honour will be restored, at least in her mother’s eyes. Tosia can go to her grave once again feeling pride and love for her daughter, as it should be.”
“Give the diary to Tosia – that’s all you want me to do?”
Lazarus drew something out of the chest and straightened. “That is all I want you to do. This diary is the only thing that has kept me in Link since I was sentenced to Landfall. The thought of delivering it to Tosia has consumed me day and night. It is all I have left to do in this pitiful wreck that was once my life. That is why I have been so selective in choosing the right courier.”
Knile lifted the diary. “I’ll see that it’s delivered. Now if we can–”
“Patience. Do not rush. The Reach is not far from here. I could walk there myself in ten minutes. There will be time for you and the boy.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw his condition through the camera when you arrived. His symptoms indicate that you still have several hours to reach the Infirmary.” He reached out and handed Knile a glowing red badge with the letter ‘C’ in the centre. “This will ensure your safe passage to your destination.”
“What is it?”
“It is a token that is given to members of the Consortium so that they can reach the Infirmary whenever they are in need. The Enforcers will allow anyone who possesses this to pass through the gates.”
“Damn,” Knile said appreciatively, “I could have used this thing on my journey to the Wire.”
“No. This will only allow the elevators to access one level – the Infirmary. You cannot use it to travel anywhere else.”
“Okay. I think I’ve got it.” Knile exhaled shakily, his belief restored.
This crazy idea might actually work after all, he thought.
“Now,” Lazarus said in a low voice. “Give me your word.”
“Huh?”
“My soul is in your hands, Knile. If you fail at this, my only chance of salvation will be lost. Give me your word that you will do this for me. You will find Tosia and give her the diary.”
Knile nodded solemnly. “Yes, Aron. I give you my word.”
Lazarus gripped his shoulder firmly. “That is good.”
Knile looked up at him. “I have to ask – since you’re so close to the Reach yourself and you have the badge, why haven’t you taken the diary back yourself?”
“That is not possible,” Lazarus said adamantly. “I have been sentenced to Landfall. I have been banished. To set foot back inside the Reach would be to destroy the last shred of honour that is left to my name.”
“So what happens to you now?”
Lazarus took another deep breath as he collected his thoughts.
“Now I will head out into the lowlands, into the wilderness. That is where I belong. Word has it that there is a great cathedral out there in a city to the east, the largest that still stands in this world. I am going to find it, and once I do, I will pray there. I will allow the holiness of its walls to nourish me for as long as it desires. Then, when it is ready, I will pass on from this world and into the next.”
Knile felt a pang of desperate sorrow for Lazarus’ plight. It was a tragic tale, and his punishment seemed unduly heavy, but Knile had to admit he knew practically nothing of the traditions and the moral code of the Redmen. He felt a little better in the knowledge that he could bring Lazarus some measure of peace by delivering the diary, while at the same time saving Roman’s life.
Roman.
“If there’s nothing else, I have to go,” Knile said. “I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer.”
Lazarus nodded. “I understand.” He gestured to the doorway. “Please proceed.”
Out by the altar, Silvestri was waiting patiently, fidgeting with the buckle on his belt. As Lazarus appeared his eyes widened in anticipation.
“So?” he said. “Is the deal done?”
“It is done,” Lazarus said. He held out a small black case toward Silvestri. “Here. Take what was promised.”
Silvestri reached out reverently and took the case, then fumbled at the catch. He lifted it and stared at the contents, a look of awe slowly spreading across his face. Knile couldn’t see what he was looking at from his position, but he could see the glint of something golden as the sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass window and reflected off its surface.
Silvestri’s lips parted. “This is–”
“Forged within the holy walls of the Citadel on Mars,” Lazarus interrupted. “A priceless artefact if ever there was one.”
“I…” Silvestri shook his head and reluctantly closed the case. “Thank you.”
Knile made haste down the aisle. He found Roman where he had left him, and although he was breathing, the boy was not responsive.
“You’re going to have to carry him from here,” Silvestri said at his side.
“Yeah.” He drew him gently up into a sitting position. “Looks like it.”
“Should I come with you, Knile?” Silvestri said. “I could help you bear the load up until the gates.”
“No, I can manage.” He gripped Silvestri’s arm. “I need you to look after Talia for me. I’m worried about her. Can you do that?”
“Of course. She’s safe where she is, but if it makes you feel any better I’ll head back to Skybreach immediately.”
“One other thing,” Knile said. “Why didn’t you ever take Lazarus up on the deal yourself? Why didn’t you just go to the Infirmary?�
��
Silvestri shook his head slowly. “This is a dangerous thing that you do, Knile. I won’t lie to you. Heading that deep into forbidden territory scares me.” He gave Knile an appreciative nod. “You have courage, I’ll give you that. And my respect.”
Knile shook his hand. “Thank you, Silvestri. For everything.”
Silvestri flashed his gold tooth again. “You see? I’m not such a bad guy after all.”
He pulled open the creaking wooden doors of the chapel and proceeded to hold them while Knile carried Roman across the threshold. As he left, Knile looked back and saw Lazarus watching them solemnly from the altar, cloaked in a blaze of what he might fancifully have called holy light from the window above. As the doors swung shut, Lazarus clasped his hands together once more and began to pray.
34
Ursie got to her feet hesitantly as van Asch moved purposefully toward her. From the look on his face he was displeased about something. She braced herself for his rebuke, wondering what she’d done wrong. Perhaps he suspected that she had been using her abilities again, or perhaps he was upset that she’d been speaking to Tobias. He hadn’t explicitly told her not to talk to anyone, however. In fact, he hadn’t raised any objections to her walking out the door whatsoever, so why should he be angry?
Or had she simply been gone too long?
As van Asch bore down upon her she almost reached out with her mind, such was her desperation to know what he was thinking.
No. Don’t do that. It will only make things worse.
She opened her mouth to speak, but van Asch beat her to it.
“Ursie, come with me,” he said in a quiet but commanding tone. “Hurry.”
“What’s happened?” Ursie said, starting forward tentatively. “What did I do wrong?”
“What?” van Asch said, pausing curiously as he was about to walk away.
“If I did the wrong thing I–”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her. “I apologise for my brusqueness, but we need to get moving.” He pushed his sunglasses firmly against his face with one finger. “He’s here.”
Ursie felt a strange tightness in her belly at those words.
“Who?” she said curiously.
“The captain,” he said, as if that should have been obvious. “He’s returned. We’re leaving.”
Ursie felt a wave of relief wash over her. Van Asch wasn’t upset after all – he was excited, and that had given him an air of urgency. The man simply had such a limited emotional range that the two states were barely indistinguishable from one another.
“How? When?” she said, feeling her own excitement growing.
“Come.” Van Asch waved at her. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Ursie followed behind van Asch as he started off down the concourse. She practically had to run to keep up with him, such was the speed with which his long legs carried him across the floor.
“You’ll need to pack right away, but I expect that won’t take long,” he said.
“No. I’ve hardly taken anything out of my case since I got here.”
“Good. I received the call from the captain a few minutes ago. He’s running ahead of schedule and we only have a small window in which to meet him.”
“Why? Is he in a hurry?”
“As I told you earlier, the captain bends the rules. When he arrives he’ll be forced to dock illegally, and that will limit how long he is able to stay.”
Ursie frowned. “Why are we even dealing with this guy? Why doesn’t the company just book another flight?”
“Because it could take weeks to find a cruiser that’s headed to where we want to go. We don’t have the permits to stay in Habitat Thirty-One for that long.” He glanced down at her. “I’m sorry for the confusion, but there really was no other option at short notice. I believe I explained this before.”
Ursie shrugged. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”
They exited the concourse and began to wind their way through the narrow corridors again, and with her departure looming close, Ursie’s thoughts began to drift once more to Knile. She didn’t want to think about him anymore; she wanted to forget that they’d ever met, but she couldn’t seem to do so.
You’re more like me than you could ever know, he’d said to her as she left, moments after he’d come to a great revelation about his life and the mistakes that he’d made. He’d seemed so content within himself, as if he’d finally found peace despite the turmoil around him.
When he’d said those words, had he also meant that Ursie could come to the same realisation about herself?
They reached their quarters, and van Asch glanced down at her.
“You’re very quiet,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Just nervous, I guess. Thinking about what I’m leaving behind.”
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No,” Ursie said quickly. “Not at all.”
Van Asch paused with his hand on the door. “You know that there’s no room for doubt, don’t you? You must commit wholly to what we are about to do. I won’t accept anything less.”
Ursie stared up at van Asch’s blank expression. She thought of Knile again, but suddenly she couldn’t dredge up those same feelings of regret toward him. What had he really done for her, anyway? He’d always treated her with a kind of disdain, as a nuisance who had cramped him as he went about achieving his own ends. Even on the roof, when he’d dropped the passkey at Ursie’s feet, he’d only done so because he no longer had any use for it. He hadn’t done it because he’d wished Ursie well or because he’d wanted to help her.
I don’t care what you do with that, Ursie, he’d said. I don’t need it anymore.
He couldn’t have stated it more plainly.
I don’t care about you, he might as well have said.
So why should Ursie care about him?
“Yeah,” Ursie said, pressing her lips together in determination. “I’m committed. I’m ready to leave.”
Screw you, Knile, she thought, but she kept that part to herself.
Van Asch nodded, then eased the door open. Inside their quarters, Ursie gathered together her possessions and stuffed them into her tiny suitcase once more. As she placed her own keepsakes inside, she thought of Tobias Krump and his pocket watch.
Hope you find it one day, old man, she thought.
She hefted the suitcase and stepped over to the oval window while van Asch finalised his preparations. Craning her neck, she tried to see the place where their captain might have docked further along the structure, but the curvature of Habitat Thirty-One was too great. She could see nothing of the cruisers that might be berthed there.
“Are you ready?” van Asch said behind her.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
They went back the way they had come, and as they came to the concourse, Ursie’s heart began to beat in her chest like a bass drum.
This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for!
They headed toward the departure gates, where a Redman was discussing something with a technician who was working on a circuit board in one of the gate assemblies. Ursie’s step faltered at the sight of the Redman, but van Asch gave her a reassuring look over his shoulder.
“Keep up,” he said discreetly. “Here we go.”
35
Duran watched over Robson’s shoulder as the tech manipulated the many different feeds that were flitting across the screen. His fingers moved with dazzling speed and precision. Duran had only been watching him for a few minutes, but he had already developed a headache just from trying to keep up.
“How is it you see more than all of the Enforcer security team put together?” Duran said, turning away and rubbing at his eye sockets. “They don’t seem to track targets the way you do.”
“Because I’m motivated,” Robson said, his fingers never skipping a beat. “And I put together half of this system myself. You could say there was a bit of a brain drain when I left.” He
chuckled. “I bet they’re still trying to figure out most of the stuff I can do in my sleep.”
Duran watched the tech carefully. “Do you ever wish you hadn’t left?”
Robson relented from his manipulations for a moment, lifting his fingers from the keyboard and leaning back in his chair to look at Duran.
“Not really, no. The Enforcers are just treading water. They’re not trying to change anything.” Robson shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t like the idea of where that might lead us.”
“Yeah. I see that now.”
“How about you?” Robson said. “You having any regrets about how things have played out?”
“You mean with Tunks?”
“With everything.”
“The guy needed to be rubbed out. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else sooner or later.”
“Right.” He leaned across and gave Duran a good-natured slap on the arm. “I don’t think anyone is going to miss Sergeant Tunks, Duran. Don’t sweat it.”
There was noise in the corridor outside, and then de Villiers and Zoe appeared in the doorway. De Villiers nodded in greeting to Duran and then dumped a mangled gadget unceremoniously on the desk.
“Robson, they got another camera.”
Robson bent over the chunk of aluminium and silicon and clucked his tongue.
“This the one from Avenue P? I saw it go down last night.”
“Yeah. Looks like they took to it with a hammer. Made a mess.”
“So can you fix it?”
“Hell no,” Robson said, pushing the ruined camera back across the desk. “I’m not a miracle worker.”
De Villiers sighed and glanced at Zoe. “The unrest is escalating.”
“Agreed,” Zoe said. “There’s an uprising coming. I can feel it.”
“There’s been an uprising coming for about a decade, if you hadn’t noticed,” Duran said. “Most of the people around here haven’t been happy with the way things are going for a while now.”
“It’s gaining momentum,” de Villiers said. “It’s becoming dangerous.”
Landfall (The Reach, Book 2) Page 24