‘Who is it we’re trying to reach exactly?’ Josh asked, putting the headgear back on. He winced as Caitlin buckled up the strap, his neck rubbed raw from the chaffing of the leather.
‘A merchant navigator by the name of Nicoloso da Recco,’ Fey replied, showing him a page from her almanac with an engraving of Da Recco. ‘He’s been in there for at least three months — along with the rest of the merchant princes. He should have a map of all their trade routes.’
‘So they shut themselves in and just left the peasants to the Mongols and their plague?’ Michaelmas said, picking up a large crucifix and hefting it from one hand to the other. ‘Seems like it’s time for a revolution.’
Josh had never taken him for a political type, but the skinny, scruffy seer seemed to be genuinely upset.
‘It’s standard quarantine procedure — you’d have done the same in their position. The epidemic spreads because they have no idea they’re infected and jump onto their ships the minute they get the chance.’ Fey had been a Scriptorian before joining the trials, and her historical knowledge was nearly as vast as Caitlin’s. She rearranged the symbols on the page until it displayed a miniature map of Europe — and then drew a timeline down the margin, black ink spots bloomed and shrank over the continent.
Bentley took the book and studied the map. ‘They’re the ones who took it all over Europe?’
‘Yes. This is ground zero. I think we’re here to find out exactly who and where. The records are patchy between 11,354 and 11,666 — hem-stitched.’
‘Hem-stitched?’ Josh asked.
‘You know, in and out, like a thread through a hem?’ She snaked her hand through the air.
‘Or a Wyrrm,’ one of the others muttered, but Josh couldn’t tell who as Caitlin was still adjusting the lenses.
‘So, how are you planning to get in?’ Darkling asked as Josh went towards the door.
‘Frontal assault, of course.’ Josh nodded towards the gate.
47
Arrows
The paths of the arrows left vapour trails in the air around Josh as he walked towards the gates. The moment the bowmen took aim, the Lens allowed him to trace the projected trajectory of each of their steel-tipped shafts — he avoided every single one. It was a weird sensation, watching the predictions of his death with every step. Beads of sweat ran down into his eyes as multiple shots were loosed towards him — time slowed, allowing him to move easily between them.
Dodging their shots, Josh picked his way carefully across the corpse-littered square. The dead were everywhere, and over a hundred bodies lay between him and the gate, making his approach even more treacherous. As he stepped over them Josh noticed there was something unusual about their lifelines; the Lens couldn’t find anything about them, and everybody was just an empty shell, their pasts all drained.
Strzyga, thought Josh, remembering the creatures that had attacked the colonel. They could hollow out a life, take every memory and leave nothing behind. He wondered if they came at night, reaping the pasts of the dead when the guards were too tired to care.
By the time he reached the gates, the soldiers had resorted to throwing rocks and were struggling with a large bucket of boiling pitch. Josh fell, exhausted, against the hard metal of the gate as they began to pour. He could smell the tar as he reached up to touch the gate.
The portcullis was iron, forged in the heart of a distant city. He sensed every blow of the hammers that beat it into shape, every sinew of the heavy-muscled arms of the slaves that had cast it. Josh wove through its timeline to the day they raised it into place and jumped before the black pitch reached him.
[<<]
Removing the helm, Josh walked nonchalantly through the open gateway, nodding to the Captain of the Guard who was proudly inspecting his new defences — the man had no idea that one day it would be used against his own people.
Kaffa was a bustling city in the early years of the Genoa stewardship, a busy trading port with a colourful mix of cultures and creeds, but all with one common goal — making money.
Josh walked into the flesh market where the slavers paraded their latest stock on wooden stages, calling out for bids from the well-dressed merchants that passed by. Men and women stood stoically in chains, some not much older than children. It sickened Josh to see them manacled like animals, prodded and poked by passers-by, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it — slavery would be around for at least another three hundred years.
Leaving the market, he came to a square full of stalls selling exotic birds: peacocks in wooden cages hung next to hooded birds of prey and half-tied swans. There were shelves of eggs in all shades of blue and purple, each one stolen from the nest of some soon-to-be-endangered species. Josh half expected to see Alixia shopping for her next extinction project — she would have hated the way these beautiful creatures were being bought and sold for nothing more than the colour of a feather or a Duke’s breakfast.
Josh understood why Michaelmas was so angry; the rich squandered while the poor starved. Kaffa taught him more about inequality in five minutes than two years of Ms Fieldhouse’s history lessons. He turned away from the square and found a shady doorway to hide in, reminding himself that all he had to do was move forward to 11.347 and find this merchant navigator, Da Recco, and his map.
He took out his tachyon. It was the first time he’d used one since he lost Caitlin, and it made him a little nervous. As the timeline opened and the alley began to shimmer, he noticed something unusual at the edge of his vision — like a smudge on a lens, there was something that avoided his gaze.
[>>]
The administration quarter was a very different place when he reappeared. Beyond the high walls, he could hear the cries of the dying and the far off beat of the Mongol drums.
Merchant’s buildings formed the four sides of the square. Built out of an eclectic mix of Italian Renaissance and Persian architecture, each occupying ruler having tried to surpass their predecessor. The wealthy merchants weren’t shy in flouting their wealth, and the towering minarets that rose up around him made Josh smile — size obviously mattered a great deal to these people.
It was nearing midday, and the sun was beating down on the tiled plaza. Waves of heat shimmered off the white marble, and Josh began to swelter in the heavy robes that Vedris had insisted he wear. Beneath his padded doublet was a leather jerkin, and on top of everything was a cloak. It felt like wearing all his clothes at once, and the lack of deodorant was beginning to make itself very apparent.
He shucked off his cloak and unlaced the front of his doublet to let some air circulate. The water from a nearby fountain looked cool and clear, and he cupped a handful onto the back of his neck and felt the droplets trickle down his back.
Josh was about to immerse his head when he heard a noise, a click, as if a door were opening ever so slightly; the creak of a hinge, perhaps. He pretended not to notice, but moved one hand to the pommel of his knife as he took another handful of the cold water and rubbed it into his neck once more.
Again the click, and moving his hand away he felt the point of a blade hovering close to the back of his head.
‘Please be so good as to drop your weapon,’ a polite voice requested in Italian.
48
Da Recco
‘He’s a Venetian spy!’
‘If he is, he’s not a very good one.’
‘How do you know he’s not infected?’
‘I don’t. That’s why he’s in the barrel.’
‘You’re crazier than a codfish, Da Recco. I would’ve run him through where he stood.’
‘And he would’ve fallen into the only fresh water source we have.’
The voices sounded like they were at the far end of a tunnel. Josh’s ears were ringing, and his body was numb. He had no idea where he was, but it felt like he was underwater.
‘You still believe that bathing can cure them of the disease?’
‘Prevent, not cure — it is a subtle difference, I
admit.’
‘Benvolo told me last week that he had seen a cloud of flies in the shape of the devil.’ The man spat a curse. ‘Fra Gerolamo is to hold a special mass to bless the guard and anyone else with concerns.’
‘Anyone with a scudo, you mean! If the devil is truly walking among us, the rich should be very afraid.’
‘Well, I still think you’re crazy. Wait until the Consul finds out. He will throw you off the wall himself. The edict was pretty clear — no one in or out.’
‘So how did this young one get in, eh? Wouldn’t it be wiser to find that out before we send him to his maker? I’m sure the Consul would be interested to find out there’s a weak point in our defences, no?’
‘Whatever. I have a meeting — it’s on your head, Da Recco. I was never here.’
Josh heard the other man leave and opened his eyes. He was in a basement, like a wine cellar, surrounded by ancient oak barrels. The room was dimly lit by a single lantern sitting on a table next to a middle-aged man dressed in a flamboyant doublet of dark red. He was picking the mould out of his bread with a stiletto blade. Josh’s helmet lay in pieces next to the food.
‘At last, my prisoner awakes,’ Da Recco exclaimed, driving the knife into the table and picking up the lantern.
It was only as the Italian walked towards him that Josh realised he was floating in a barrel of what smelled like brandy and that he wasn’t wearing any clothes.
‘You are fortunate that it was I that found you,’ he continued. ‘I’m one of the few men in this madhouse who wouldn’t have killed you where you stood. The others are all stir-crazy, looking for demons and devils in dark corners,’ he added, flamboyantly gesturing with his free hand and creating strange shadows on the walls.
Josh tested the bindings that held his arms behind his back, but the ropes had swollen with the brandy.
‘So why didn’t you?’
‘Because of the colour of your skin, your hair.’ He pointed at Josh’s head. ‘You came a long way to break into our city. I’ve studied natural philosophy, I understand these things. You are not Italian… more Norse perhaps?’
‘English.’
‘No! The English are stupid, ugly oafs! I think your mother met a Norseman when your father was tending to the pigs, no? Who can say?’ He shrugged, putting down the lantern. ‘Your Italian, however, is nearly perfect. A little too Florentine for my ear, but still very good!’
‘Thanks. What is this?’ Josh nodded to the liquid that surrounded him.
‘A little concoction of my own devising. Some of the finest brandies, plus some Salt of Tartar, Hartshorn, Vitriol and of course the basic ascorbics — it should cleanse you of the scourge.’
Josh had no idea what the others were, but the name Vitriol came back to him from one of his mother’s shows; it was Sulphuric Acid.
‘Get me out of here now!’ he ordered, jumping around in the dark liquid.
‘But my experiment must run its course!’
‘Screw your experiment! Get me out now, and I’ll tell you all about the scourge and how to protect yourself from it. I’m sure there are plenty who’ll pay for that!’
Da Recco considered the idea for a few moments before nodding. ‘Fine. But I burned those ugly clothes you were wearing so you will have to wear some of mine.’
That’s the least of my problems, thought Josh, as the Italian picked up a hammer and smashed open the barrel.
‘So these bacteria live within the flea?’ Da Recco asked with a hint of disbelief, ‘and you can only see it with a lens?’
‘A microscope,’ Josh corrected, pulling on the second boot. The clothes the navigator had given him were similar to their travelling robes: a long black cloak draped over a green velvet suit.
‘So by burning the clothes and submerging the patient —’
‘You drowned the carriers, although it wouldn’t have cured them.’
Da Recco’s mouth widened into a smug grin. ‘No, but I was close.’
Not close enough, thought Josh, wondering what it must be like to live in an age where they had no idea what made you ill. Da Recco was clearly a clever man, if not a little crazy.
‘How do you know all this? The English are not revered for their sciences? Perhaps you studied under the great Suleman of Araby?’
Josh realised he’d already given too much away; bacteria was something that wasn’t supposed to be discovered for another couple of hundred years — Caitlin was going to kill him.
‘My father was an alchemist and a lens maker.’ Josh pointed at the Lensing helmet. ‘He made that for me.’
‘Ah, yes. I was wondering about that. Not like any helm I’ve ever seen. I doubt it would stop a sword.’
‘Oh, you’d be surprised.’
‘Not much surprises me. I’ve seen many things on my travels, and I doubt there is much that would — except perhaps the appearance of an Englishman in the middle of a Mongol siege. What exactly are you doing here?’
‘I need safe passage to England. I was told that your city had the best ships.’
‘Indeed we do, and the best navigators. Unfortunately, the two are rather unacquainted at the moment.’
‘You can’t leave?’
Da Recco shook his head. ‘There is a dispute between the ship owners and the guild of navigation. Neither can agree on a price. Crazy I know,’ — he waved his hands in the air — ‘when you consider the spectre of death that awaits beyond those walls, but this is business. All of our charts have been confiscated by the Consul. Without maps we are blind, and there is also the small matter of leaving this sanctuary to reach the ships.’
Josh wondered what would have happened if their ships had never left port. Perhaps the spread of the black death would have been stopped in its tracks.
He could save millions of lives just by walking away right now and leaving these arrogant idiots to starve to death behind their walls.
49
Diversion
‘So you didn’t tell him everything?’ asked Caitlin, trying not to sound too concerned, but unable to mask the underlying disappointment from her voice.
‘Not completely,’ Josh lied, desperately trying to figure out how to stop this conversation from ending badly.
They were following Da Recco in single file through a tunnel as he guided them back underneath the administration district.
Caitlin slowed down so the others wouldn’t hear.
‘How much?’
‘Enough to get his co-operation. Just about the bacteria, and the fleas — basic stuff.’
‘Basic for the twenty-first century maybe,’ she snapped, raising her eyes. ‘Bacteria won’t be discovered by Leeuwenhoek for another three hundred years. I can’t think of anything more stupid that you could have possibly done — other than walking through a barrage of arrows of course.’
‘And he kind of knows we’re not from this time.’
She stopped in her tracks.
‘You told him about the Order?’
‘Not exactly. He took one look at the tachyon and guessed. He’d already taken the lensing helmet apart — he’s a very inquisitive dude.’
Josh could see the scream gathering in her chest, watching it rise like a red wave up her neck and into her cheeks.
‘And how exactly did he get hold of your tachyon?’ she snarled through tight lips.
The tail end of the group had stopped, and were all looking back at the pair of them.
‘No, don’t tell me! It’s probably better if I don’t know when the Protectorate interrogate me,’ she shouted, storming off.
The tunnels were carved out of rock, the ceilings low, and Josh had to hunch over to stop from hitting his head. Da Recco’s lantern was growing faint as he tried to catch up with her.
‘He’s the only one who knows where the maps are kept.’
She didn’t respond, marching on towards the dull glow.
Bentley fell back to walk beside Josh as they caught up with the end of the group. ‘She�
�s been worried about you ever since you left. That trick with the arrows nearly gave her a heart attack, but it was so cool — Darkling hasn’t stopped talking about it.’
Josh tried not to show how pleased he was with the news.
‘How many times did you see yourself die?’
‘Too many,’ Josh muttered. He was still enjoying the idea of Caitlin worrying about him.
‘You were awesome.’
Josh shrugged off the compliment. It hadn’t been that hard.
‘What’s a Wyrrm?’ he asked, changing the subject.
Bentley drew a sharp breath through his teeth, the way Josh’s mum used to do whenever he asked her for money. ‘It’s not something we talk about. They’re a bit of a myth, like the bogeyman I guess. Stuff your parents would scare you with if you didn’t do as you’re told.’
‘Like the Djinn?’
Bentley shook his head. His red hair was now matched by a fine beard which made him look older, and the chubby cheeks were gone too — the training regime was beginning to agree with him. ‘No, these actually existed. They’re supposed to have been huge, some said to have spanned hundreds of years.’
‘You mean hundreds of metres?’
‘No, Years. Wyrrm’s are supposed to live on the edge of the continuum. Their bodies span decades as they grow.’
‘Nice. So what have they got to do with the plague?’
‘The stories tell of how they are able to burrow through weak points in the chronosphere. When they do, death and disease follow — it’s like a signature, a pattern through history, but no one has seen one for ages. They probably don’t exist anymore.’
Josh thought Bentley didn’t sound too convinced, but he could see the team waiting impatiently at the tunnel exit. Caitlin was ignoring him, and he knew that she wasn’t going to be in the mood to discuss another fairytale.
The Infinity Engines Books 1-3 Page 52
