by Patty Jansen
Puddles glistened on the pavement in the advancing night. Somewhere a few streets down people yelled.
“Stand there.” Daya gestured at the corner, where someone a long time ago had dumped a pile of old wood. “Aim there.”
Jessica glanced at the metal slide—empty. “This thing isn’t even loaded.”
He rearranged the weapon in her arms, her right hand fitting the handle. The soft skin of the underside of his forearm lingered against her knuckles. His eyes met hers and some of the warmth in them returned. His alluring scent drifted on the wind.
Please, do this for me. Only you can show this to them. It’s important.
Her thumb found the release. He continued in a business-like tone, “You hold it like this and press there. Stand back.” This to the Pengali who had swarmed into the yard.
They shuffled against the wall of the house, surrounding the small group of councillors, who had remained on the stairs and inside the door.
Jessica’s arms trembled from the strain of lifting the metal crossbow. “I can’t aim.” Drops of rain ran down her forehead.
“Doesn’t matter. Just shoot.” The secret is to aim with your mind.
Jessica squinted at the wall on the other side of the courtyard and pressed the release. In a metallic click, so fast it was impossible to see how it happened, an arrow shot up from underneath the slide. Jessica gasped. Yes, she now saw that the arrows consisted of two pieces of metal at a ninety degree angle which could be folded flat and stacked inside the handle. Fold-up automatic reload arrows?
Daya nodded. Shoot.
Jessica took a deep breath, lifted the crossbow in trembling arms and pressed the release again.
A chill tore at her senses, growing into a whirlwind of energy. Sparks flew from her skin as with a long metallic zhing, the arrow shot loose. Jessica panicked and clamped her hand tighter, sending another arrow flying, and another one and another one in a metal stream that sucked a vortex of sparks in its wake.
The arrows hit a broken crate. Blue light sparked over its surface, down the pile of rubbish, up the wall behind it. Lightning crackled. Splinters of wood and sandy grit flew everywhere, mixed with steam and dust and droplets of water.
Pengali screamed and pushed back into the house in a tumble of bodies.
Jessica stood there, staring at the gap where the wall had been. Holy shit—an automatic fire-spewing crossbow.
It uses avya. Daya’s face was white, but he sounded composed when he spoke. “I think we can go back inside now.”
Jessica couldn’t wait to get rid of that horrid weapon. Daya took it from her and once back inside the hall, laid it on the floor. He knelt next to it, undid the springs, removed the slide and took out a small object, which he held up between thumb and index finger. A simple glass bead the size of a marble. Dark eyes met Jessica’s over the top of it. “Have you seen this before?”
Yes, Jessica had. That first night in the city, in the apartment. She remembered the blue glow of the beads in the crate, picking one up and having her heat flow into it until it exploded.
Daya held it out to her. “Here.”
She shook her head. No way she would touch one of those again.
Instead, he passed the bead to Ikay, who took in a sharp breath and dropped it. It rolled over the floor and came to rest in a hollow where a tile was missing, radiating soft blue.
Jessica licked her lips. “What is it?”
Daya picked up the bead. “This stone can be enriched to collect life energy, which it releases into the arrow when the crossbow is fired. A normal crossbow is a dangerous weapon, but limited and old-fashioned. These, however . . .” He let the bead roll onto the floor again; it sparked with energy. “You saw what happens. I suppose you felt the cold chill, too?” A touch of his warmth laced his eyes.
Jessica nodded.
“Life energy is the most powerful form of energy we know. There’s only a tiny bit in these beads; imagine what a larger weapon could do.”
A hoarse voice said, “A larger weapon? You mean a bigger one of these?” Councillor Semisu stared at Daya with wide eyes.
“Like this, or something else, but equally or more destructive. If you load a projectile with enough of this energy, one throw of a stone brings down an entire building. If the conditions are right, it attracts more energy and starts a chain reaction.”
Jessica tried to recall what Iztho had said about Miran, but remembered only statements about clean air and honest values. She had been so stupid and ignorant. “Is Miran at war?”
“Not at war as such, but Miran’s relationships with several other entities are always tense. Miran has been involved in plenty of wars.”
“Who were they fighting?”
“Asto mostly, or any of the other Coldi entities.”
Councillor Semisu said, “Where do you stand in all of this? I thought you hated the Coldi.”
Daya’s face grew emotionless. “I grew up on Asto, and being zhadya-born, was a second-rate citizen amongst the Coldi. I’ve since lived at Hedron, which is mostly Coldi, too. My father . . .” Councillors’ faces tightened; talk died down. “All right—I’ll say it once and let everyone in this town know it, and keep their silence hereafter. My biological father is Thania Lingui, who holds the position of Chief Coordinator of Asto, but that doesn’t mean I condone Asto’s position or actions, nor does it mean that I align myself with those who call themselves Asto’s enemies. I represent the displaced Aghyrians, and we have no position in this ongoing conflict between Asto and Miran.”
No, Jessica saw it now. The Coldi hated the zhadya-born Aghyrians, but the Coldi also had a bad relationship with Miran. Now Miran wanted to entice the Aghyrians to fight the Coldi as revenge.
Daya continued, “The Mirani have found that only some of the zhadya-born have our abilities, and they need more. Here in Barresh is a whole population of people who have inherited from our forefathers the ability to draw energy in their bodies. Miran is behind this investigation into the crash. They’re pushing for the closure of the Barresh Exchange to increase their control over Barresh. When Barresh becomes an official part of Miran, people can be forcibly relocated and there’s not a thing anyone can do.”
“But Iztho just admitted to me that the translocation was his fault.”
Daya raised his eyebrows at her, as if she shouldn’t refer to this man by his first name.
“Miran will deny it. They will destroy the evidence. They already have, since the Barresh Exchange hasn’t been able to find a rogue translocation in the Exchange records. If Iztho Andrahar speaks out, Miran will shut him up.”
Jessica felt sick. She remembered how Iztho had lied to the Mirani soldier who had come to the door. Shut him up. No, she didn’t want that either. Iztho made a mistake, but she refused to think that he was a bad man. “You mean this hearing with the council was all for nothing?”
“No, not for nothing. You have given Pengali hope.” This was a softly-spoken voice, belonging to an older Pengali male who had been sitting silently amongst the councillors.
Jessica whirled to face him. “Hope? What sort of hope is this? We uncover the truth, and in the end we achieve nothing?” She spread her hands; her cheeks grew hot with anger.
Councillor Semisu still looked at the crossbow. “If Miran has weapons like those, do we have a chance at all? We, Barresh, are only this big . . .” He held his thumb and index finger a hair width apart, “. . . and they are . . .” He spread his arms, nearly hitting the councillor next to him in his face.
“All the evidence in the case of the Exchange will be covered up. No one could prove Mirani involvement. And now the Mirani soldiers are all over the streets.”
Daya nodded. “Our only hope is to get help from outside—we must bring this to the attention of the Union Assembly.”
Councillor Semisu snorted. “What can the Union do? Do you think they care about an entity as small as Barresh?”
“The Union cares about one thing: peace and stability. Barre
sh may be small, but the issue is not. Think of it: what we have here is an invasion of an independent entity. If the Union sends its peace guards and Miran is caught outside its mandate before the eyes of all Union members, or if it even obstructs a Union inquiry, the Union Assembly could vote to suspend Miran from the Exchange network.”
The councillor harrumphed. “Another one who believes in the Union as the source of all good.”
“I believe the Union is fair, or at least attempting to be so, to those who obey their laws. No acts of war, no inciting unrest in other entities. Think of what happened to Indrahui—they suffered total isolation for more than ten years. No Exchange, no travel, no export, no import. I don’t think Miran wants to follow them into that abyss. Yes, I think the Union is our best option. The only problem is getting to Union headquarters without the Barresh node in operation.”
“You can fly to Miran and use their Exchange”
“Yes, I think that would be a good idea.” Daya’s tone was wry but his face showed no emotion. “Although it’s my experience they have an interesting way to deal with foreign visitors—”
The Pengali male interrupted, eyes wide. “But going to Miran would be most unwise. You—” The rest of his speech was drowned in laughter.
Councillor Semisu patted the man on the shoulder. “Sheida, you Pengali must learn to recognise when someone is joking.” More laughter went up at Sheida’s puzzled face.
Daya motioned for silence. “How long would it take to get the Exchange going? What do we need? Which parts are shut down?”
Councillor Semisu shook his head. “Everything has shut down. I presume the core could easily be reconnected, if the Exchange had pearls to run the auxiliary equipment.” He cast a fierce look at Sheida.
The Pengali straightened his back. “Us Pengali were not going to be mistreated without a fight.”
“We keihu weren’t mistreating you.”
“You keihu introduced the law about Pengali working in the city having to cut their tails.”
“You know why it was introduced. City Pengali agreed with it.”
“It was three hundred years ago. You should have revoked the law before someone used it to cut the tail of an adult—”
“Enough about that now.” Daya held up his hands. “Is there any chance we can get an energy source going soon?”
Sheida turned to him, avoiding the councillor’s glare. “We have stockpiled our supply of pearls in Far Atok.”
Daya frowned. “Far. . . ?”
“The other island,” Councillor Semisu explained. “But with all the soldiers in the street carrying crossbows, how are we going to get a great load of pearls to the Exchange?”
Jessica broke in, “What if we . . . could disable some of those crossbows?”
Many raised eyebrows.
Steeling herself, she picked up the bead that still glowed faintly on the tiles. Immediately, it sucked warmth from her fingers. She concentrated, helped it along, feeding energy into its greedy core. A cool breeze went through the hall. The glass became hot. She resisted her body’s call to siphon off that energy, instead holding onto the burning glass.
Lightning-like arcs crackled from her hand.
The bead flew from her fingers. Floated for a split second . . . and exploded into a glittering cloud that rained on the Pengali spectators, who hastily scrambled back.
Councillor Semisu swallowed, his throat working. “Impressive.”
Even Daya’s face showed awe.
Jessica went on, “I don’t think we can destroy the weapons completely. But each of the enhanced crossbows contains a marble like this. If we destroy the glass balls and turn some enhanced crossbows into ordinary crossbows, at least for a short while, would that be enough for some people to get through to do what they need to do? I can teach Ikay and the others how to do this—”
Sheida said, his eyes shining, “We bring charged pearls from Far Atok. Then we use the parade to take them to the Exchange. We tell the fighting-men that Pengali have to complete the parade or the harvest will fail.”
Councillor Semisu frowned at him. “Really? I never knew that bit of Pengali mythology.”
Sheida laughed, a weird neighing sound.
His cheeks red, councillor Semisu snorted. “All right, you got me. If some of you will show me the way through those blasted drains, I’ll get Merilon and bring him to the Exchange so he can start it up.”
Daya said, “I will fly to Damarq.”
Jessica hurried down the corridor a little while later. The food had done her good; she didn’t feel quite so sick any more. Now, while they were waiting for the Pengali to bring the pearls, there was just one thing left to do. If he wasn’t going to talk to her, she would talk to him, whether he liked it or not. He could not go on ignoring her. She entered the hall and stopped, staring at the empty spot amongst the councillors.
“Daya?”
“Not here,” one of the councillors said. “Maybe in one of the other rooms.”
The first room she tried was empty. Her footsteps echoed hollow against the high ceiling; every mattress on the floor lay abandoned.
Shit—did the councillor mention going somewhere? He was going to get the operator of the Exchange. Did Daya go with him? Was he avoiding her?
“Daya?”
A giggle sounded in the back of the second room. A light from outside cast a greenish sheen over an outline of two Pengali on a mattress, the spots on a male’s back, his tail curled around a female’s legs. A painful stab went through her. The same mattress where she and Daya . . . “Oh—I’m sorry.”
“Anmi.” The young male pushed himself off his partner and crouched on the floor, so that the light fell on the female. Maire. She, too, scrambled up and knelt next to the male, her head bent, her shoulders still heaving with deep breaths.
“Don’t be silly,” Jessica said, trying to dispel memories of hungry lips on her skin, and how a small spot of warmth had flowed from his lips and caressed her in places no one had ever touched her.
Maire bent deeper.
Jessica strode across the floor and pushed up Maire’s chin. “Get up. I don’t like it when you treat me this way. I am not some figure of worship. You may have hope but nothing is going to change unless someone is punished. If Miran is responsible, Miran should be made to pay the price. So if you have nothing better to do than shagging each other, go and help the others bring the pearls, or help me find Daya.”
They both nodded, with the same ridiculous reverence.
Where was he? Why wouldn’t he talk to her?
29
THE FRONT GATES of the safe house opened with a creak, releasing many years of built-up rust. Silent figures streamed into the yard, pushing the caterpillar-like structure over the uneven pavement. Thick wooden wheels rumbled, each set of two with forked beams holding up a section of the cloth or hide that formed the tray of the vehicle. Flowers spilled over the edge of the cloth.
Ikay stood knee-deep in them, waving instructions. Her body sinewy and muscles corded, she wore nothing except a wreath of flowers on her head. Her tail waved free and snapped when things didn’t go to her satisfaction.
Energy hummed from within the tray of the cart. All night, a line of porters had streamed in carrying bags. They had come in through the back door, through the Pengali-known maze of alleys, drains, walls and doors, bringing the precious load that would revive the Exchange.
Jessica stood on the porch, her gaze straying to that small part of the street visible between the foliage. Where the hell was Daya?
She, Ikay and a few others couldn’t do this on their own. Yes, more females with avya had come in, and Jessica had spent most of the night teaching them how to blow up the glass beads, but Daya was the only one with any kind of real strength and he simply had to be there for the plan to succeed. However, he and Councillor Semisu had left to get the operator of the Exchange and had not come back.
They had not come back. The thought gnawed at her like so
many rats. Now it was time was to go. Soon it would be light and the reason to continue with the parade would be gone: this night would be the last of the Bachelors festival.
The caterpillar stopped. Ikay called out. “Anmi, come.”
“But Daya isn’t here.”
“We find him . . . in street.”
Jessica met Ikay’s eyes. What did she mean by that?
A shout sounded from the other side of the gate. Alla, waving her hands and snapping her tail. Hurry up.
Damn it. After one look down the empty street, Jessica crossed the yard and climbed on a massive wheel to heave herself into the cart. Sheesh—they could have chosen less obnoxious-smelling flowers. She sank through the thin layer onto a more solid footing. The pearls were warm under her and released a scent of hot stone. Jessica lay down and Ikay shovelled flowers over her. In amongst them, it was hard to breathe.
“Anmi?” A soft female voice.
Jessica lifted her head, but saw nothing but flowers. “Who are you?”
“The merchant’s daughter, Seleni.” The girl she had helped at the dressmaker’s shop.
Jessica reached out in her mind and sensed the girl not far from her, similarly buried under a layer of flowers.
“My servant told me what you are going to do. I think I can help.”
“Thanks.” Jessica could say no more. She couldn’t bear if all was to fail now, if Barresh were overrun, if she fell into the hands of Miran and never saw her parents again, or if Daya was already in their hands and never got to know she expected his child.
A shout and a crack of a tail and the wagon started moving.
They rumbled along slowly. The Pengali beat their drums, clapped and sang. People yelled out in the houses they passed. Jessica didn’t dare look up, but sensed people joining them. They had to be Pengali. It was the middle of the night and everyone else would be asleep.
A harsh shout interrupted the music. The drumbeats and the singing stopped, leaving an eerie silence. Jessica pressed herself flat against the pearls, holding her breath.
Hard heels clacked on stone. “What is the point of this?” A Mirani voice, cold and disdaining.