The two humans were back, but they too stopped when they saw their Venusian friend at bay. They looked at Hand. They looked at each other. They ran into the darkness and their frenzied footfalls were lost to hearing in mere seconds.
The Venusian stared down the barrel of Hand’s service revolver, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. Hand cocked the weapon, the Venusian made a pathetic mewling sound, and the air was suddenly tainted with the sharp scent of urine.
“Get out of here, you filthy bludger,” Hand growled, easing the trigger to its second notch. “Tell your pals that I’ll be looking for them. They best not get found.”
The terrified Venusian nodded, turned, ran, stumbled, then picked himself up and ran for his life.
When he was sure there was no further source of danger, Hand holstered his weapon and turned to the girl. She still cringed against the wall, looking at Hand as she had looked at her attackers.
“Are you all right, Miss?” he asked. “There’s no need to be affrighted – those ruffians won’t be back, and I’m sure not going to hurt you.”
She did not speak, but she seemed to relax a bit at his words.
“Is there somewhere I can see you safely to, Miss?”
“Do not look at me,” she whispered.
Hand smiled. Even in a whisper, her voice was to his ears like the dulcet tones of delicate electrum bells ringing across the Martian highlands. Now that he could see her without the hindrance of distance, he thought even more strongly that she was the most beautiful, most exquisite creature he had ever seen, perfect of form in every way.
“Just want to make sure you’re okay, Miss,” Hand said in as gentle a tone as he could manage, trying to put a engaging smile on his homely visage. “You’ve had quite a fright, that’s for certain, but those roustabouts won’t be back anytime soon. Fact is, they might right now looking for the first aethership out of Port Victoria, after they get all doctored up.” He chuckled, and his smile turned into a smirk. “And, of course, after that Venusian boy changes his smalls.”
The girl still gazed upon Hand with wariness, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.
“See, old Felix won’t hurt you,” he cajoled. “That’s me, Sergeant Felix Hand of Her Majesty’s Martian Rifles. I mean, if you can’t trust a soldier what is held in high regard by Her Majesty the Queen – God save Her! – well, who in this whole blooming Solar System can you trust?”
Her smile became a bit more pronounced, and her head inclined slightly as she relaxed.
“Now, if you want me to be on my way, well, that’s what they calls your prerogative, ain’t it, Miss, and I’ll bid you a grand good morning,” Hand said, adrenaline ebbing and a segir-fuelled loquacity asserting itself. “But I would be worried sick, about you, that I would, fretting something awful that someone else might try to take advantage of you, these ancient streets being about as dark and mean as any streets ever I saw anywhere on a dozen worlds. Permit me to escort you to your destination and you won’t owe me anything but a smile and the pleasure of keeping your memory in my heart.”
“Would that all men were like you, Sergeant Felix Hand of Her Majesty’s Martian Rifles,” she said, finally separating herself from the wall, taking a step nearer, but still keeping her distance. “I thank you for your timely assistance and gallant offer. Were I to assent to your offer, it would place you in grave danger. I am myself in violation of the rules of my order by being in public, even at this low hour, risking harsh punishment. If you are seen in my company, it would mean death.”
“Death in exchange for your company?” Hand said. “Is that really such an extreme price?”
She laughed. “Are all Martian men so foolish?”
“Only the good ones,” Hand quipped.
Wood thunked loudly against the cobbled street some distance away but growing closer, sounding rhythmically. The girl’s ethereal features were again twisted with fright.
“What’s that?” Hand demanded, voice low and terse.
“The Night Patrol,” she replied. “If they find us – death!”
Hand started to reach for his weapon.
“No!” she cried, her voice no more than a whisper. “They carry the ancient power of demolishment. One touch, one look – it is death eternal.”
Hand straightened. “You go where you need to be. If they are busy with me, they won’t find out about you.”
“No!”
“I can talk my way out of anything.”
“They do not talk.”
Hand shrugged. “Go.”
“Come with me,” the girl said.
Hand nodded and followed after her as she darted sinuously up a narrow alleyway. The pounding of wood against pavement was quite close now. Suddenly Hand turned and ran back the way they had come, leaving the girl gaping in disbelief. He darted back to the crate, grabbed his bottle of genuine segir, and ran back to where the girl waited, incredulous, and even more so when she saw what was tucked under his arm.
She shook her head in wonder. “Come on, Sergeant Felix.”
He nodded. “What’s your name, Miss?”
After a moment she said: “Aythaneshia.”
Chapter 12
Hand followed Aythaneshia deeper into the dark labythrine of the Old City than he ever thought he would venture. Normally he would have faced whatever was coming at them out of the darkness, but there was something infectious about her fear. He did not share her fear, but it motivated him to court caution rather than rashness, for once. Besides, he told himself, he had an obligation to the safety of this strange and beautiful Venusian girl.
They kept to the deep shadows, and they paused many times, often for no reason he could discern.
“Aythaneshia, when you told me not to look at you, did you mean I'm not allowed to?” he asked softly. “Is it a taboo?”
“A taboo?”
“It means something that is forbidden,” he explained. “Make bad ju-ju with the priests, call down the wrath of the gods.”
“Yes, taboo,” she agreed. “We call it shiak pel. It is an old word, from primal times, difficult to translate into our own language but it means, roughly, ‘your eyes rain blood’ or close to it.”
Hand nodded and clucked his tongue softly. “It seems pretty plain to me. That why we don’t see you girls much…or at all?
Aythaneshia nodded. “When very young we are taken into the Houses of Light and Dream.”
“Never heard of that?”
“Of course not, Sergeant Felix,” she replied. “You are an out-worlder. Our ways are our own and not for the knowledge of others. We keep our secrets.”
Hand regarded her lithe and lovely form as she trod the dark night. “You do indeed. What are these Houses then?”
She looked at him sharply.
“I won’t tell a soul,” he promised. “I’m just curious.”
“About my world’s secrets?”
“No, luv, about you,” Hand assured her. “I came to Venus thinking it’s got nothing to redeem it but the finest whisky in the Solar System – which I find out, mind you, that’s it’s even better that what they let on – and then I meet the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my entire life. I want to know all about you, everything I can, so my memories of you will always be spring-fresh.”
“Memories are all you will ever have of me,” she told him. “We will never meet again…and no one must ever know we did meet…my people or yours.”
“I’ve learned never to say never, even to the most unlikeliest of things,” Hand said. “The Solar System is big and strange, and has its own way of working out things. Who knows? A year from now I might be walking these streets again and there you are; or maybe you turn the corner coming home one night, and there I am.”
She shook her head.
“We are kept in the Houses of Light and Dream for at least forty years,” she said. “It takes that long to discover if we have the Sight. If we do not, we return to our families, a mate is found an
d we live out or lives. If we have the Sight…we never leave.”
“The Sight?”
“It is the ability to look into the spaces between,” she said.
“Between what?” he asked.
“It is difficult to explain,” she replied. “There is the realm of what is and what was and what will be; but there are also places where there are what could have been, what may be and what might someday be, or not. It is into those hidden and unknown folds that we are trained to peer.”
Hand shook his head. “I would be lying if I said I understood what you are trying to say.”
“That is for the best, Sergeant Felix,” she said. “Even that little could get you killed, and me.”
“Then trust me to keep it to myself, Aythaneshia,” Hand said soberly. “Never a word.”
“I do trust you,” she murmured, “even though it makes no sense that I should. You have a kind face.”
Hand smiled. “Can’t say anyone ever’s said that to me, even me own mum.”
She halted in shadows. “We must part here. The Elders of my Order will be watching for me. It would be ill for us to be seen.”
“The Sisters, or whatever, at your House know you are out?” Hand asked. “From what you said, I am surprised they allowed it.”
She looked away.
“Oh, so I see,” Hand said. “Why did you…”
“I miss my family so much, I had to see them.”
“I’m sure they appreciated the visit.”
She shook her head. “I watched them secretly.”
“All that risk just to…”
“The transgression was my choice, one for which I will be punished and will seek atonement,” she explained, “but I could not draw my family into my wrongdoing. By law they would be forced to report me, but even following the law would not have saved them from punishment. Now, they can honestly say they have not seen me, cannot be punished for what was not their doing. Nor will I betray them. I have been out, I will be punished, and there is nothing more that can be done.”
“Why go back at all?”
“What?”
“Come with me,” Hand said.. “Not just to Port Victoria, but off this world, back to Mars with me.”
“I cannot,” she protested. “It would betray my Order.”
“You already left it.”
“No, that was a moment of weakness, a lapse of strength, for which I will be punished upon my return,” Aythaneshia defended. “What you suggest – leaving my Order forever – is a wilful act from which there is no return, and for which I would die.”
“I’ll take care of you, Aythaneshia, protect you all harm,” Hand promised. “Once away from Venus, nothing and no one can touch us.”
“You do not understand the powers we cultivate.”
“What I understand is that our meeting was no thing of mere chance,” Hand insisted. “Somehow, I don’t know how, our meeting was fated. It was no accident that I came along at the very instant I did, just in time for us to have an encounter that was against all odds. There has to some meaning in it that goes beyond the understanding of mere mortals…surely you can see that.”
“I…I want to, but…”
“From the moment I saw you, I knew there was much more than blind chance at work,” he said. “Why would the fates bring us together, only to part us?”
“Because fate is cruel and laughs at our pain,” she said.
Hand shook his head. “If that were true, Aythaneshia, there would be no happiness in our lives, none possible. Fate has given us an opportunity, but it up to us to grab it.”
“Our fate…my fate is chosen,” she said resolutely, a finality in her tone. “I must submit to that fate.”
“You can’t go back,” Hand said. “I won’t let you…I can’t.”
Aythaneshia smiled wanly, leaned forward and brushed her lips tenderly against his. “Thank you, Sergeant Felix. I will always treasure your love, as I hope you treasure mine.”
She locked his sad eyes with hers. He tried to grab her ivory wrist as she turned away, but she was too swift and too graceful to be caught, like trying to hold onto a breeze. She vanished into the darkness and the mist, her silvery footfalls ebbing swiftly to silence. He started after her, but stopped after a few steps. There was no way to know where she was. Hand sighed, sagged back against the wall, uncorked the bottle of segir, and drank deeply, but the pain persisted.
He wiped moisture from his eyes.
Damn fate anyway!
At a sudden sound nearby, Hand looked up sharply and pushed away from the wall. She must have changed her mind, given in to the same emotions that wracked him. As he parted his lips to call softly to her, something hard crashed into the back of his head.
The segir bottle slipped from his numb fingers and shattered noisily against the cobbles.
Hand was unconscious before he hit the ground.
* * *
Torches burned in the foetid darkness, flickering against stone walls moist and slick. As Sergeant Felix Hand took in the odd sight, his ears picked up the sound of rushing water all around him and his nose the scent of decay and stagnation. Clearly he was underground, perhaps near or even beneath the river splitting Port Victoria and Yzankranda. But if that was where he was, then how did he come to be…
The sudden pain and flash of light behind his eyes…
The shattering of the segir bottle…
The girl vanishing into the darkness…
Aythaneshia…
His mind unwound like the flickering images in a poorly lit cinema, finis to beginning, and he gasped at the memory of the beautiful girl with the starlight hair, the lost love taken by mocking fate. She flashed into his consciousness like a comet. He tried sitting up, discovered he was securely bound, then struggled strenuously to burst his bonds.
“No use trying to break yourself free, Martian,” announced a voice as cold as a boreal squall. “Those ropes be five-strand guarl. If it be enough to bind the schooner-swallowing jaws of the blue marwan, then it’s sure to be enough to bind the likes of you.”
Hand twisted his head in the direction of the voice. At first he saw nothing but rags heaped upon a crate by the far wall, barely touched by the feeble glimmers of the torches. The rags moved and he saw a white seamed face set among them, then hands like those of a bleached skeleton, and the rags resolved into the robes of a Venusian.
“Who are you?” Hand asked.
The Venusian unlimbered from his seated position and moved closer, more fully into the torchlight. He cocked his head, looking down at Hand with eyes that were like broken glass.
“I’ve seen you before, have I not?” Hand ventured. “At the pub, just before I left?”
“Aye.”
“You followed me?”
“Aye.”
“And you coshed me?”
The tall old Venusian nodded.
“Why?” Hand demanded. “Because I saved Aythaneshia and walked with her? Because I saw something shiak pel? Because I asked her to leave Venus with me?”
The Venusian laughed, his laughter like the sound of ancient parchment being crushed.
“What care I about the jumped-up false gods of my people, as new as dew, and more transient?’ the Venusian said. “When this world is awash with blood, and the Dark Gods return from their long banishment, then these new religions, this empty questing for hollow gods and false truths, will all perish in fire. All the gods the Venusians like to think of as ancient will be as dead of the gods of Mars and Earth. As the Dark Gods ruled before, so shall they rule again, with the Solar System awash in blood and darkness and fire.”
“You’re daft!” Hand accused, but his throat felt constricted, and a deathly chill shuddered through him. “The British Empire will not stand idly by when one of its citizens is kidnapped. You, my friend, have called down destruction upon yourself.”
The Venusian bent low and jammed his face close to Hand’s. “The British…they will be the first to f
all, then the others.”
“If you let me go, I am sure I can get you some leniency,” Hand offered. “A nice room in Bedlam.”
The Venusian stepped back, as if astounded by the offer.
“I mean, you’re just a poor old nutter who’s got mould in his loaf, living out some spooky yarn,” Hand persisted. “We got places for you, places where the sisters will help you get right in the bean. All you have to do is untie me and…”
“Silence!” screamed the old Venusian.
“So, you want the wrath of the Empire, do you?”
The Venusian kicked Hand in the head, snapping it around.
“You were to hold the prisoner, nothing more,” said a new voice, full of soft menace.
“He provoked…”
“Leave us, fool.”
“Yes, master.”
Hand turned his head as he heard vanishing footfalls and saw a human looking down at him. He was thin with brown skin and slanted eyes. He was short, but not as short as Hand. His accent was public school English tinged with a bit of the exotic that Hand could not pin down.
“I trust Yizak did not break your jaw,” the newcomer said. “I have a few questions, and I would be quite cross if I needed to give you a pad of paper and a fountain pen to get answers.”
“You pal kicks like a poof,” Hand said, spitting a little blood as he spoke.
“If you say so, Sergeant Hand, but it looked a solid enough kick to me,” the man said.
“You know who I am?”
The dark man smiled. “Of course we do, both you and Captain Folkestone. The two of you have been quite troublesome.”
“Who are you?”
“Me? You can call me Sabu if it will make it easier for you to answer my questions.”
“You’re in charge?” Hand asked.
“In charge?” Sabu replied with a short sharp laugh. “I am nothing but a servant of the true masters of our lives, the Dark Gods who once held sway, and will rule again.”
Shadows Against the Empire (Folkestone & Hand Interplanetary Steampunk Adventures Book 1) Page 14