Tarnished City

by Vic James

  The woman must be Bodina Matravers, the sister of Heir Bouda. Abi remembered how she and Meilyr had walked into Kyneston’s ballroom side by side, just as they stood now. And Abi had seen her again in the chaos afterwards, bent over a slave crushed by a girder, bright as an angel in her sequinned dress, and supernaturally strong. She had freed the man, then healed him.

  Were the pair of them Luke’s allies?

  Or his betrayers?

  The little boat glided towards the jetty. The kid set down the torch and crouched, throwing Abi a rope. Why didn’t Heir Meilyr do it? Abi wondered. This was his island. Did he think it was beneath him? One more task to leave to a slave – just like killing a Chancellor?

  Securing the boat, Abi glanced up for a ladder and found herself instead looking into the young Equal’s face. Neither the warm Skill-light held by the woman beside him, nor his trim beard, concealed his ravaged features.

  As part of her university prep, Abi had volunteered at the hospital where Mum worked. She’d seen faces like Heir Meilyr’s on wards there. The sort of wards where people spoke in gentle voices, and where you sometimes heard muffled sobbing behind the curtains. He was leaning heavily on a cane.

  ‘Abigail Hadley,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I’m Meilyr Tresco. “Doc Jackson” is how your brother knew me. Welcome to Highwithel.’

  Abi braced her feet against the bottom of the boat as she stood.

  ‘This isn’t a social call,’ she said. ‘I’m only here for one reason. I’m going to get my brother back.’

  Tresco passed his cane to the slavegirl at his side, and with Bodina holding his arm to anchor him, he stiffly bent down and extended a hand.

  ‘That makes two of us,’ he said.

  She didn’t miss the spasm of pain that crossed Tresco’s face as he helped her over the top of the sea-slick ladder and onto the jetty. His duel with Crovan had wrecked more than just his Skill.

  They led her along the causeway to treacherous stone steps cut into the cliff. And then came a surprise. The kid with the electric torch wasn’t a slavegirl – or not anymore, it seemed. She introduced herself as Renie, a friend of Luke’s from Millmoor.

  ‘I’ll take Abigail ahead,’ Renie said to the Equals, without a trace of deference. ‘Explain about us all.’

  Bodina Matravers nodded, her hand still firm on Heir Meilyr’s arm.

  And as Renie and Abi started up the cliff stairs, the girl began her story. There had been a group of them, she said. The ‘Millmoor Games and Social Club’. Bodina Matravers had broken them all out of the slavetown as soon as Luke was transferred to Crovan’s custody.

  ‘We didn’t know she was an Equal,’ Renie explained. ‘Nor Jackson. I mean, Meilyr. That’s taking a bit of gettin’ used to.

  ‘But Dina came and found us, one by one. Said Luke had been arrested and was being questioned by one of them, so the Club might be discovered even if he wasn’t saying nothing. She rounded us up in a van, and the Security guards just looked the other way when she drove us outta Millmoor. That’d be the Skill,’ the girl added reflectively. ‘Always wondered how she did it. Figured it was just ’cause she was pretty.’

  The kid gave a low cackle that sounded old beyond her years. Renie was a natural tale-teller, and Abi found herself fascinated as the girl explained how the Club had started out simply doing good in the grim slavetown. She felt a flush of pride when Renie narrated her first encounter with Luke.

  ‘He rescued me from those nasty fellas, and I never did thank him properly for that. But I will. Don’t you worry, we’re all as set on getting him back as you are. The Doc – Meilyr – won’t rest till it’s done.’

  After Heir Meilyr had learned of the doomed Proposal to abolish the slavedays, the Club’s activities had escalated. They committed acts of sabotage against Millmoor’s adt ministration. And finally, there had been the January riot. ‘Luke was part of all this?’ Abi still couldn’t quite believe .

  ‘Part of it? He came up with the best bit – he shut down the Machine Park. He’s good, that boy. If a thing needs doing, he says so, and worries about the hows of it later.’ That sounded like Luke all right, Abi thought, scrabbling at the cliff face for purchase as her heel slipped. The seabirds circled and called distractingly overhead. She felt a pang at the thought of her brother’s life in Millmoor, close to these people she’d never met.

  If only she and Luke had talked more during their weeks together at Kyneston. He’d kept all this bottled up. Was that because he’d known how much she’d disapprove? Or was it because the assassination of Chancellor Zelston had been planned even then, and Luke was willingly a part of it?

  That was the third scenario in all of this. The one she hadn’t wanted to think about. Luke could have been used by Meilyr Tresco. He could have been used by someone else entirely.

  Or he could have volunteered to do it.

  But no. Abi could imagine Luke getting into all sorts of scrapes – yes, even the lawbreaking that Renie had described. But to shoot a man in cold blood? A man who had done nothing wrong, other than be the figurehead of the Equal regime. Who had even proposed the abolition of the slavedays. Luke wouldn’t have done that willingly, she was certain.

  They were dizzyingly high now. Abi paused to catch her breath and looked down – not her best idea, as the yawning darkness made her head spin. The golden glow of Skill-light was far below. Heir Meilyr was having a hard time of it climbing the stairs.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Abi asked, watching the heir’s painful progress. ‘I mean, I know about his Skill. I was at Kyneston when it happened. But this is just walking up steps. You don’t need Skill to do that.’

  Renie’s pinched little face screwed up. She really cared about Meilyr, Abi realized. That spoke in the heir’s favour – but Abi would still be making up her own mind.

  ‘It’s pain,’ Renie said. ‘Terrible pain that won’t go away. That’s what Dina says. She’s tried using her Skill to help him, and so has all his family. Jackson – Meilyr – says he’s like a leaky bucket. He can feel them pour Skill into him, but it just runs straight out.’

  As they watched, Bodina’s soft Skill-light began to move rapidly towards them. Leaping the steps faster than any normal person could have managed, the Equal girl was soon with them. She wasn’t the slightest bit out of breath.

  ‘Go on,’ she told them. ‘I’m going to have to carry him, and I’d rather he had some privacy.’

  ‘Carry him?’ said Abi disbelievingly. Then she remembered that girder. This slender girl could probably carry a baby elephant if she had to.

  ‘He won’t be able to talk to you any more tonight, either,’ Dina said. ‘He sends his apologies. There’ll be a room for you near the others. Renie can show you one. You must be tired, too.’

  Her last words were more instruction than question. The Equal girl then turned and ran lightly back down the steps.

  Abi groaned. But it was true, she was exhausted. She’d barely slept this past week, between worrying about Luke, worrying about her parents, worrying about Daisy, and keeping half an ear out for the police. She’d expected them to barge into the small hotel in Ennor at any minute, where she’d checked in under a false name.

  But she had made it here. For now, just for tonight, she could rest.

  She let Renie lead her up the last few turns of the cliff stairs, and into the great, dark entry hall of the castle. Tiredness weighed on her with every step. The girl took Abi through a maze of narrow corridors, then finally pushed open a door. The torchlight fell onto a narrow bed made up with a thick woollen blanket.

  ‘Why don’tcha take this one?’ Renie announced. ‘I’m just across the way.’ The kid looked into Abi’s eyes, her urchin face wiser than her years. ‘Let yourself sleep. Don’t feel guilty. You’ll need to be strong for Luke.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Abi said, before stepping in and gratefully closing the door. She’d barely pulled off her clothes before her head hit the pillow and she was sleeping deep
ly for the first time in days.

  When she woke, it was already light. She wasn’t sure what had dragged her from unconsciousness. Some distant noise. Screaming seabirds, perhaps. Or waves crashing onto rocks far below.

  Abi lay there, marshalling her thoughts. Today she would find out the truth of Zelston’s killing. She’d discover if Meilyr Tresco would fight alongside her to rescue Luke. His words on the jetty last night had been promising.

  For the first time in a week, Abi let herself feel a small ray of hope.

  A knock at the door interrupted her ruminations and she quickly sat up, pulling at the blanket.

  ‘Abi?’

  She recognized that voice.

  But that was impossible. He was at Kyneston. How would he know she was here? How could he get here?

  ‘Abi, it’s me. Can I come in?’

  ‘Yes!’ she yelped, jumping up and tugging at the bottom of her T-shirt.

  Then Jenner was through the door and seized her in his arms. He picked her up and spun her around. Her head kept on spinning when he put her down, because he was kissing her as if he had believed he would never see her again.

  And Abi kissed him back, because she had believed she would never see him again.

  How could they say he had no Skill, this boy? Because his hands on her skin burned as if they were full of golden fire. His grasp on her hip was fierce enough to bruise.

  Perhaps she hadn’t lost everything. Not quite.

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked, when they drew apart for a moment to look at each other. ‘That I was here? How did you get here?’

  Jenner tipped his head to one side, and the sun through the tower window caught those freckles and the Jardine bronze of his hair.

  ‘The map,’ he said, smiling. ‘The minute I heard you’d escaped from the car, I remembered I’d seen you by the map drawer. When I checked, the one for the Scillies was missing. So I contacted Armeria Tresco, to alert her that you might turn up.

  ‘There was lots to do at home, after what happened. But I left Kyneston as soon as I could so I’d be close by. My family thinks I’m on an estate-management tour of some of our properties. Dina called me late last night to say you were here, I made it to the coast and she came for me in the chopper this morning.’

  The helicopter landing. That was what had woken her up.

  ‘Ow!’ Jenner rubbed his arm where Abi had smacked him. ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘Because,’ she scolded, after first administering an apologetic kiss, ‘you could have given me a lift. Now give me a moment to get dressed. Then let’s go find out how our hosts will help me rescue my brother.’

  3

  Luke

  When Luke opened his eyes, it was into a world as bright as Skill – like a room on fire.

  He came awake with a jolt.

  The space around him wasn’t just fiery. It was shaking. As his eyes adjusted he saw the interior of a helicopter, and it all came back: leaving Kyneston; the gate.

  The collar.

  His fingers went to his throat and found it. A flat band, flesh-warm and skin-tight.

  Luke looked up. Opposite, Arailt Crovan was studying him. The man’s eyes were hidden behind round-rimmed glasses, but the tilt of his head recalled a bird watching a worm.

  The source of the golden light wasn’t Crovan, but lay outside the helicopter’s windows. With a wary glance over at the Equal, Luke strained against his seatbelt and looked.

  It was a molten sunrise of such beauty that it took Luke’s breath away.

  During his childhood, his family had holidayed on the Yorkshire moors, or among the soft hills of the Peak District. No overseas travel, of course, because none of them had done their slavedays. But Luke had never minded. He loved racing Abi to the top of some windy summit, or helping Daisy count the rocks piled in wayfarers’ cairns.

  But what lay beyond the window was lovelier than anything he had ever seen. Far out was the sea. An island stretched lazily along the horizon, its ridged back basking in the dawn.

  Inland pooled an immense spill of gold – a loch. The black shape jutting at the heart of it should have marred its glory, but instead lent it a dark magnificence.

  The castle was taller than it was wide, and until halfway up there were no windows at all, only sheer walls of stone. Its upper parts were lacerated with arrow slits, their placement giving no clue to the layout of the space within. At the top was a vast casement, more lead than glass. Set at one corner was a turreted tower topped with battlements. The immense stronghold stood on an outcrop of rock at the centre of the loch. There was no bridge that Luke could see.

  ‘Eilean Dochais,’ Crovan said, with evident satisfaction. ‘The seat of my family for a thousand years. The name means “Hope Island”, which Silyen finds vastly amusing. But I think it rather fitting. This is where society hopes that Condemned will be contained, and where I hope to further my own researches, with the assistance of all of you.’ He turned from the scene outside to face Luke. The sunrise flared in the lenses of his spectacles, turning his eyes into discs of gold, resembling a death-offering to pay passage into the next world.

  ‘It’s where my guests hope that their punishment will end one day. Many of them hope it will end quickly.’ Crovan leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable. Luke tried to ignore the fact that everything inside him had just melted into pure, liquid fear. He clenched his fists and curled his toes to remind himself of his own body. Of its strength, built up in Millmoor and by labouring on the Kyneston Estate. Of his determination, which he’d found in the slavetown, too. Of his family, and his friends, who were also in danger and might still need his help.

  He wouldn’t let this man break him. Wouldn’t submit to the horrors of this deceptively beautiful place. Wouldn’t think of Dog, who’d been a soldier and had murdered Equals, who Crovan had somehow reduced to a creature crawling on all fours on the end of an old woman’s leash.

  With a smooth movement, the helicopter dove towards the castle. It jerked as the pilot adjusted the controls – they were landing on the shore, not the island – then settled down the final few feet to the ground.

  ‘Out,’ said Crovan, and Luke complied.

  His hand went to the band about his throat. Was that Skillful compulsion? Or just reflexive obedience?

  The truth was, everyone in Britain wore a collar they couldn’t see. Millions of people, unquestioningly obeying the Equals. Slaving for ten years in appalling conditions. Subject to rulers they couldn’t choose or criticize. Confined to a country they couldn’t leave until their days were done. And accepting it all as normal.

  Better to wear a collar you could see. That way you never forgot.

  The chopper lifted into the air. It hovered for a moment, the metal eye of a whirlwind that flattened the yellow heather and sedge, then spun and flew back the way it had come. They both watched it go, then Crovan turned his back on Luke and walked away towards the castle.

  Now would be the moment to run. Despite Silyen Jardine’s enigmatic warning against trying to escape, Luke didn’t intend to be Crovan’s guest for long. He bolted in the direction the helicopter had disappeared.

  Running on the heather was almost impossible. The shrub bunched at ankle-height and while it appeared dense, each time Luke’s feet came down they plunged through the bush and tangled in the twisty stalks beneath.

  When he fell, he wasn’t sure if it was Crovan’s doing or just a misstep. Something snatched at his heel and he hurtled face first into the scratchy heather. He lay there for a moment, panting, trying to fight down his disappointment.

  A shoe pressed into the small of his back, where his shirt – still the one spattered with gore from Chancellor Zelston’s murder – had ridden up to expose skin.

  ‘They all try,’ said Crovan, as his heel dug into the base of Luke’s spine. ‘They all give up. You will, too. Now come.’

  Luke promptly picked himself up, and this time as Crovan strode away towards the loch he
trotted obediently behind. This new compliance was Skill, Luke was certain. But it didn’t feel like he was being made to do anything. It was as if he wanted to. The sensation itched and crawled across his skin. Under it.

  They walked across the moor, Equal and Condemned, until they reached the gravel shore of the loch. The water was shallow and glassy, magnifying the pebbles and grit of the beach. It was impossible to judge how deep it was further out, where it turned to glinting black.

  Luke was no great swimmer, but the loch was landlocked so it wouldn’t have tides or current. The distance from island to shore wasn’t impossible. The water was sure to be cold, but the exertion would warm you up. There might be no alternative – looking up and down the beach, Luke still couldn’t see a boat or bridge.

  ‘You can’t,’ said Crovan, startling Luke from his thoughts. ‘Swim, that is.’

  ‘Why’s that? Are you keeping the Loch Ness Monster in there or something?’

  ‘Try if you wish. I wouldn’t advise it.’

  They liked this, Luke thought. All these Equals. Taunting you with their superior knowledge and their creepy power. It was pathetic. Bullies in the playground did the same, confident their victim’s curiosity would get the better of him, even when he knew it was a trap.

  Luke’s curiosity got the better of him.

  He needed that information. When he escaped, he’d have to get across the loch. If one option wasn’t going to work, better to know that now.

  He crouched and examined the water more closely. It looked entirely normal. The smell was almost intoxicatingly fresh, zinging with ozone.

  Then he saw it. Tiny sparkles of gold which he had mistaken for refracted sunlight. They bobbed in the water like a trick of the eye. Luke remembered a geography lesson one afternoon, when their teacher had been sick and the supply had played them a film about oceans. One scene had showed a kayak slicing through a sea at night, leaving a rippling blue glow in its wake. Bioluminescence.

  Luke looked at the shimmering water warily. He’d bet his entire, non-existent, worldly goods that this was no natural phenomenon. An unnatural one, maybe.