Winterstrike

by Liz Williams

  ‘She’s left the city, then?’ I was ashamed of how relieved I felt.

  ‘Or wants us to think she has. What do you think, Essegui?’

  I smiled. A passing staff member, a young woman in shadow-grey thrust a platter of fluted glasses at me and I took one. The chilled wine gave me a moment of astonishing clarity, almost transcendental. Maybe this was the answer: simply drink more. ‘Think? Why ask me, majike? Why don’t you just look at that bit of stolen soul? She’s not my sister any more, is she? She never was.’

  That’s actually debatable,’ Gennera said. She frowned at the drink in my hand as if she disapproved. ‘She grew up as a human, knowing no different. The clone of Mantis, as I told you earlier, was the same, although Mantis was placed with people who knew what she was. In retrospect, a mistake.’

  ‘Why would anyone take on an inhuman child?’

  The family were the Changed. I bargained, in return for citizenship favours. They were grateful, or appeared so. They filled Mantis’s head with ideas.’

  ‘About equality?’ Impossible to blame them, it seemed to me.

  Gennera snorted. ‘Wasn’t much equality in their opinions. More like domination.’

  Thank you for telling me,’ I said. ‘Frankly, I hope she’s gone.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Gennera answered. ‘If Caud gets hold of her—’

  ‘If Caud gets hold of her,’ I said, ‘it’s likely that we’ll already be past the point where it matters.’

  We did not appear to have any more to say to one another. I went in search of Canteley Dance while your city burns, I thought. The glass of wine had produced a welcome degree of insulation from reality, but I’d better not have any more. The orchestra had elected to perform a work that had last been popular in wartime some two hundred years before – not the most tactful choice. It now scraped and screeched its way through a mournful aria, while the members of Winterstrike’s Matriarchy made their ponderous way around the floor. At last I caught sight of Alleghetta, her brocade billowing around her and clasping an elderly hatchet-faced woman whom I recognized as one of the council.

  ‘Essegui?’ I turned to find Canteley standing behind me. Her face was rosy with the warmth of the room and probably with cocktails, but she looked too worried to be properly drunk. Thea’s – not very well.’

  I should have expected that, but I’d only been out of the room for twenty minutes. How much had Thea drunk before we left Calmaretto? ‘All right,’ I said. ‘We’d better go and find her.’

  My mother was sitting slumped in a chair in a side parlour, with the crowd eddying around her. She’d evidently put the time since our arrival to good use, because she’d already reached the maudlin stage of inebriation.

  ‘. . . always such a dear little girl,’ she was saying to a concerned woman in mauve, and with horror I realized she was talking about Leretui. And now – now! – she’s a—’ Thea groped for a suitable adjective, ‘—nothing but a monster!’

  ‘Mine were exactly the same,’ the woman said, sympathetically. As soon as they start coming up to sixteen, what a nightmare! I thought the drugs they give them in schools these days were supposed to sort them out, not make them worse.’

  A monster!’ Thea howled and wiped her eyes. I plucked her glass from her hand before she had the chance to take another swig and said to the woman, ‘My mother. Slightly distressed, not feeling well. I’ll look after her.’

  ‘I know how it is with children,’ the woman said. Against all the odds, she’d failed to recognize Thea: I supposed Alleghetta was the half of the marriage who was more in the public eye. Lucky for us. Together Canteley and I wrestled Thea out of her seat and hauled her out of the ballroom, up the stairs and into the winter garden, a world of red and gold, with fronds and skeins of crimson orchids billowing down from the struts of the ceiling, forming arches and arcades, while lilies erupted from the formal pools.

  ‘It’s ever so hot!’ poor Thea complained.

  ‘Here,’ Canteley said. ‘You can borrow my fan.’ She fetched a glass of water from the dispenser by the windows and thrust it into Thea’s hand. Thea glared at it.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Gin,’ I said, before Canteley could reply. ‘Sit there and drink it and don’t move. We’ll come back for you in a bit.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Canteley needs to find the washrooms,’ I said. ‘We’ll be back in a minute.’ We left her perched on the side of a pool, staring suspiciously into the glass as hopeful golden carp rose up to the surface, cadging food. I hoped she wouldn’t fall in.

  Back in the main ballroom, a portion of the stage was already being lowered from the ceiling and most of the more senior members of the ruling council had abandoned the dancing and were now congregated in a huddle in the corner. Alleghetta stood by herself near the window, facing proudly inwards. I got the impression that she’d positioned herself to make maximum impact: the golden light sparkled and cascaded over her brocade gown and glinted on the pins that held up her mass of hair. Her face was as artificial as a mask. Somewhere, someone struck a small, tactful gong.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Hestia — Malay

  The palace of the Centipede Queen was old, white-plastered, cool. It stood on a slight rise, looking down towards Khul Pak, and behind the house were rows of fountains. Beyond lay the jungle. Now that we were down on the ground I was starting to realize how little of the islands was occupied, at least by humans. A rim of city lay around the shores, but the inner islands had been left to the jungle itself. When I stood at the window of the chamber allotted to me – plaster walls, a blue-tiled floor that was like walking on water, fretworked screens – and looked out, all I could see was an impenetrable emerald wall.

  Not so impenetrable, perhaps. After dinner the kappa excused herself, murmuring something about an errand. Rubirosa took herself off to her room, saying that she was tired. I should have done the same. But I was on Earth, in a place of relative safety for the first time, and the meagre glimpses I’d had of the shamandoms and Malay had intrigued and frustrated me.

  Besides, I was a still a spy, even if I was working for myself now. Or for my mother? Best not to think about that. So instead of heading for my bed and my rest, I followed the kappa.

  It was almost dusk when I slipped down the veranda steps in pursuit of Evishu. The sky had turned to a lambent green-gold in the west and Venus hung low over the treetops. A very faint breath stirred the leaves, but apart from that the heat of the day still hung in the air, making my skin clammy. I kept to the edges of the garden, just in case someone might be watching. The kappa took a path so narrow that it was almost invisible and I nearly missed it: one moment her stout figure was there and the next, she was gone into the trees. I waited for a second or two, then went after her.

  The density of jungle growth was impressive. Enormous moths floated ahead of me down the path and something bit me hard on the neck. I had to stifle a yell and slapped it dead. Some spy you are, I thought. I was making enough noise for ten, but Evishu trundled on ahead, never glancing back. Very shortly, a bend in the path closed off the dim gleam from the palace lamps and the only light came from above, but the sky was quickly deepening to rose. It reminded me of the Crater Plains, or the winter sky over the city: all red and fire. Around me, the jungle was murmuring, coming to nocturnal life. A bird gave a loud startled cry, then subsided. I had no idea what lived in the forests of Malay and I couldn’t help thinking of demotheas. How securely was our captive held? The kappa had already lost it once and they couldn’t keep it under permanent sedation, unless the palace had more sophisticated equipment.

  But the jungle was opening out. I found myself stepping into a clearing and moved hastily back in case I was spotted. The kappa was hurrying towards a round structure that rose from the centre of the clearing. It was squat, cylindrical, and surmounted by a huge plexiglass dome, a bulbous eye staring into the darkening heavens. An observatory.

  Evi
shu opened a small door in the base and slipped inside. She closed the door behind her, but there wasn’t any sign of a lock, and after a pause I cautiously opened the door and went in after her. A light high on the wall illuminated a spiralling staircase and the sound of the kappas flat footsteps was retreating up it. When the footsteps stopped, I crept up the stairs, to where a landing led through a doorway. The kappa was beyond, in the observation turret itself, moving slowly about.

  Something was hissing. It was a familiar sound: an antiscribe, experiencing heavy static. The kappa said something that I did not understand, but then the line cleared and Evishu said, in Martian: ‘Do you read me?’

  A voice, very faint and far away. ‘Yes. But not well.’

  The women from Winterstrike are here. We have what you asked for.’

  ‘Good.’ And now I recognized the voice: I’d heard it often enough, over my own antiscribe, and in person. Gennera Khine. In spite of the heat, I went cold. Then the kappa said, And my Queen?’

  ‘Still missing.’ If I hadn’t known her as well as I did, I might have missed it, but I didn’t think I was wrong. There was a distinct note of satisfaction in Gennera’s voice as she added, ‘Everything’s going to plan. At least on that score.’

  ‘Make sure you keep it that way,’ Evishu said, and I didn’t think I’d imagined the note of warning, either. So the placid old kappa, unlikely research scientist and allegedly devoted servant of the Centipede Queen, was a little more than she seemed, too.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Gennera said. ‘There’s enough to occupy the Matriarchy at the moment without worrying about your lady. We’ll get her out when we’re good and ready.’

  ‘Very well,’ the kappa said. And the girl? The experiment?’

  ‘Not going quite as well as it might. We’ll need your captive, I think. Make sure you keep Hestia Mar in the dark about that. She’s the daughter of someone who’s become an enemy. And she’s inquisitive.’

  ‘She’s what you made her,’ the kappa said, back to placidity.

  ‘Ah,’ Gennera said, with a rattle of bones. ‘They’re all what I make them.’

  The antiscribe started to power down. I went quickly back down the stairs and out, lurking behind the observatory until I heard the door close and the kappas footsteps recede down the path. Then I followed, back through the black, whispering jungle, with Mars burning overhead like the spark of a spirit.

  When I got back to my own room, I took the sphere from my pocket. ‘Library,’ I whispered, ‘I want to talk to you.’

  After a moment, the warrior appeared. I told her what I’d heard. ‘You said you were sent to help me,’ I said. ‘Was it Gennera who hacked you, attached you to me? If there’s a double game here, I need to know about it.’

  ‘It was not Gennera Khine,’ the Library said.

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘I told you. I cannot say.’

  ‘Did I find you, Library? Or did you find me?’ I knew the Library had her own agenda. ‘Did you want that weapon to be used? And why did you want to see inside Mantis’s tower?’

  The Library’s stringy mouth worked, but no words came out.

  ‘Library?’ I said in alarm.

  ‘Find out who I was, Hestia. That holds the key to what I am now. Other than that, I cannot tell you more.’ And she was gone.

  That night, rather than sleeping, I went down the stairs to the office chamber of the palace and sat in front of the antiscribe. I dialled the secret code for Calmaretto, the one that Essegui and I had set up under the name of Aletheria Stole, and waited for my cousin to answer.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Essegui — Winterstrike

  The gong gave another soft, sonorous note and the crowds still occupying the dance floor started to move back as the orchestra completed its tune with what I fancied was an unsettled speed. By the window, Alleghetta drew even straighter. She was scanning the room in a manner I’d seen a thousand times before at her own dinner parties and dances: looking to see who was there. She reminded me of a hunting bird, able to spot prey from the greatest of heights.

  But now, the prey was hunting her, and she was well pleased. A staff member bustled up to her and spoke urgently in her ear. Alleghetta nodded, in a grand way, and allowed herself to be led across the hall, although ‘led’ is inaccurate: she swept the flunky in front of her like a ship in sail. As they passed Canteley and myself, she suddenly noticed we were there: I saw her mouth, ‘Where’s Thea?’

  I frowned. ‘What?’ I said, pretending not to hear, and then, mercifully, she had gone past. She glanced back but I made sure to pretend that I hadn’t seen, either.

  ‘I hope Thea’s all right,’ Canteley said.

  I nearly replied that we might never know. It had suddenly been given to me to wonder whether I shared something of Hestia’s pre-cognitive gifts after all. That sense of foreboding that had come over me in the sledge was very strong, almost as compelling as the geise had been, and all I could do was watch and wait.

  Alleghetta was walking onto the stage with a measured stride. She must, I realized belatedly, have rehearsed all this many times and I felt a moment of supreme irritation, that during all the troubles with Leretui, Alleghetta had still had her gaze fixed on this purely political goal. Well, she’d achieved it now, for however long or brief a time, and I hoped it made her happy.

  Canteley nudged me. ‘They’re coming forward.’

  The members of the ruling council moved in a phalanx of red and black, their conical hats towering precariously above their heads. The city’s principal costume had always seemed a bit ridiculous to me; I was glad to get away with the more practical and sombre garb of a simple ceremonialist. One of them bore a similar hat on a velvet cushion. I saw Alleghetta’s face take on a familiar avarice.

  ‘Well,’ I heard myself say, although probably the only person to hear me was Canteley, ‘she’s got what she wanted.’

  The council member handed the hat to Alleghetta. The gong struck once more, a ringing note that sounded throughout the hall and echoed in the sudden silence. I saw the orchestra readying itself to start up again and was profoundly grateful that we wouldn’t have to sit through interminable speeches. Indeed, the council member’s welcome was brief to the point of discourtesy, though Alleghetta bore herself proudly through it and accepted the hat with bowed head.

  As soon as it was placed on her piled black hair, the violettas scraped up again and Alleghetta stepped back with obvious reluctance, at least to my jaded eye. But the music was drowned out by a high, unnatural whine. For a moment, I thought it was an insect next to my ear, then saw other people glance up and around and realized it was coming from outside.

  ‘Canteley,’ I said, ‘get down!’

  ‘What—?’

  I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her under a nearby table. Seconds later, peering out from beneath the fringe of the tablecloth I saw a vivid flash of light, a weird red-green, and then the whole glass front of the hall imploded. Women were screaming, cut by flying glass, and a couple lay motionless.

  ‘Stay there!’ I ordered Canteley, without any real hope of being obeyed, and crawled out from the table. We were, I noted irrelevantly, surrounded by fragmented cake and I slipped on a lump of icing as I raced for the stage. Halfway there, I cannoned into Alleghetta, coming back. Her hair, and the new hat, were awry, but the blaze of rage in her eyes took away any comical aspect that she might have possessed.

  ‘Essegui!’ She made it sound as if it was my fault.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Never mind injury or death, the sudden explosion had robbed Alleghetta of her big moment and I doubted that anyone would be forgiven for it. Ever.

  ‘What happened?’ The Matriarchy members were running about like a hive on fire, with little result. ‘Where are the excissieres? Don’t you have any security?’ The cursory scan we’d been given at the entrance had been barely adequate.

  ‘I don’t know!’ But a moment late
r a team burst through from the corridor, weapons at the ready. I turned to face the shattered windows. Arctic air was blowing through, shrivelling the orchids and freezing my breath.

  They’ll have a hard time fighting that,’ I said. A vanguard of ghosts was pouring through the windows, some ignoring the gaps and coming through the few remaining panes. Spirits of the distant past: troops armed with spectral blast bows, and behind them, the Changed.

  The weapons might be ghostly, but they were still operational. I saw a warrior kneel, take aim, and fire at the Matriarch who had handed Alleghetta her hat. There was no sign of injury but the woman went down and did not stir. Alleghetta and I, in unfamiliar accord, ran for the corridor, collecting Canteley on the way.

  ‘Where’s Thea?’ Alleghetta hissed. ‘Why isn’t she with you?’

  I was in no mood to be diplomatic. ‘She was too drunk. We took her into the winter garden and left her there.’

  Alleghetta turned on me as if about to strike. Another team of excissieres sprinted past, wounds glowing and shifting. Bit late, I thought. ‘How could she get drunk at a time like this?’

  ‘Because she’s an alcoholic, Mother.’ Alleghetta was taking it as a personal affront, which I supposed was fair.

  ‘The winter garden’s that way.’ I pointed. ‘I suggest you go and find her. We’ll meet you outside if we can.’

  Giving Alleghetta no time to argue, we made for the doors at the side of the building. I didn’t want to meet Mantis again, and I couldn’t help wondering who – or what – might be accompanying her.

  I wasn’t happy to be proved right. We just couldn’t get to the doors: there was too great a crush. Shouts and the sound of weapons fire from behind made it impossible to head back the way we’d come. Then I remembered the stairs onto the gallery that led in the direction of the winter garden, on the opposite side of the building. Holding hands, we ran up the stairs. The corridor was deserted. We hastened along it until we found an open door. Inside, on the other side of the building from the ballroom, there was a long room. A series of small tables and some stuffy formal portraits suggested that this was one of the supper rooms used by the Matriarchy for visiting dignitaries. Another flight of windows looked out across Midis, sparkling with frost. Canteley and I ran to the windows and opened one that led out onto the balcony.