by S. J. Higbee
Onice straightened, her eyes brightening as she nodded.
Relieved that my former best friend hadn’t changed beyond recognition after all, I leaned towards her. “I want you to march across to the Security Suite and visit Kestor, madder than a boil-brained dog cos I won’t release him and swearing you’ll do anything to be revenged on me. Reckon you can manage that?”
“Easier’n breathing.” Her half-grin took me back to those snatched conversations we used to share while hidden in the reeds by the Salamander.
I grinned right back. “Then you jump right on board with anything they want you to do.”
“Then report back to you?”
“Or Felina, which’ll probably be easier.”
Felina stood up. “If there’s nothing you need me for, Your Ladyship, I’ll be getting along to the Stores. That roaching cook you brought along regards the daily ration allowance as a suggestion rather than a solid limit.”
“Mistress Keeper, as always, a pleasure.” We exchanged bows and she left the room, barrelling through the privacy bubble with a hissing buzz.
I turned back to Onice. “Anything else I need to know?”
Onice shook her head, managing a watery smile. “You straightline ʼbout me getting a chance to shake free of this place?”
I locked looks with her. “For sure. So long as you’re straightline with me and we can save the village. But it’ll probably be without Kestor. Reckon you can live with that?”
She blinked rapidly, her face twisting with sadness, before she took a gulping breath. “Yeah. I tried to tell him it was a sunblasted notion, but Kes never was one to wear his ears out listenin’ when it didn’t suit him.”
As I lifted the privacy bubble and Onice flounced out in pretended fury with me, I called up Helston and informed him we’d be heading to the Security Suite just as soon as he got my escort together.
“Your Ladyship.” Ellern appeared. “I’ve been looking at your readings. You really didn’t get sufficient rest during your siesta and you’re more dehydrated than I’d like, so I’ve booked a steam bath and a whole-body massage for you in fifteen minutes.”
“I may be late,” I said, fixing the sunscreen in place that Jerick silently handed me.
Ellern’s eyes widened. “May I remind you that your health is of the utmost importance, Your Ladyship?”
“I’ll try to return in time, but if not, I probably won’t stop breathing. Meantime, there are other matters I have to take care of.” Such as saving Cnicus and a whole bunch of other small settlements from blowing away in the dust.
Ellern smiled archly and wagged a finger at me. “Lord Seth left me with strict instructions to look after you, remember!”
“Which you’ve done, but now I need to be elsewhere.”
She stepped forward. “Perhaps I can accompany you? Ensure you receive all your doses and supplements at the optimum time.”
“Wait here until I return, Madam Prime-Healer.” I didn’t snap, but it was close.
“May I ask where you’re headed, Your Ladyship?” asked Ellern, sounding hurt.
I was about to tell her, but some instinct made me hesitate. “I’ve people to see.”
“I’ll await your return, Your Ladyship,” she said, looking like a kicked puppy.
“Thank you, I appreciate your dedication, Ellern.” I smiled at her, recalling something that Felina had once said about making sure to keep the Healer Family on your side if you want to ensure your bones don’t hit the dirt till they’re old and crooked.
*
As the door to the Nodery slid open, a reedy voice snapped, “Whoever you are, many repentances, but the Nodery is closed—”
“Not to the Overlord,” announced Helston as we stepped into the cool dimness of the room that lit up in multi-coloured flickers as I walked across to the tanks.
The thin-faced man with a dishevelled halo of hair immediately swept into a deep bow. “Your Ladyship!”
And that’s the difference between Gloriosans and Cnicans. A villager would still be standing here, hands on hips, looking sourer than a field-slogger at Harvest, all set for a mouthmatch he couldn’t win.
“Master Trask. A pleasure to meet you after hearing so much about you.” My polite grimace broadened into a full grin when I turned to the other figure bending almost low enough to lick the floor. “Denzel Brarian, a million thankyous for agreeing to fill this post. And so promptly, too.”
“Your Ladyship, it’s a solid honour to have been asked,” he murmured, flushing to the roots of his coifed hair as he straightened up.
“Right. From one Brarian to another, what do you reckon to the Nodery?” Conscious that I was skipping a hatful of Gloriosan small talk, I got straight down to business. If half of what Onice had to say was correct, then Time wasn’t on our side.”
“We brought the medicinal formula we use back in Gloriosa, along with a sack of the local version which we picked up in Reseda, Your Ladyship.” Master Trask lowered his voice, “It’s a lucky accident you didn’t have any of this local stuff to hand. I’ve run an analysis on it and if you’d put it in the tanks while they were stressed and starving, you’d have killed them for sure.”
I stared at him, chilly runnels snaking down my spine. “Is this some kind of mistake?” Please don’t let it be deliberate.
His face pinched with disapproval, Trask shook his head. “We’ve run the analysis several times over, Your Ladyship. There are ingredients in this mix that have no business being near an organi-pack under any circumstances. Basically, it’s a poison designed to kill Nodes.”
“Which then allows Adurn to reseed all the Nodes in the area with sub-standard stock so they can hardly run. No wonder Acinos Province is slagged!” I clenched my fists, furious at the betrayal of generations of sunslagged workers whose lives had been cut short due to overwork and exhaustion, because the local Nodes weren’t up to sustaining bots to do the work. If it’s the last thing I do – I’ll make Brarian Major Adurn pay!
Behind me, the organi-packs blazed and bubbled, picking up my burst of emotion. My escort shuffled and murmured, while Master Trask’s eyes widened as he stared at the tanks and then back at me, once more folding in half. “Nodemaster!” The look on his face once he straightened up reminded me of the way Mother’s followers used to stare at her. Like she’d all the answers to their problems.
Yeah, and look how that ended for her.
He continued in a hushed voice, “I’d heard the rumours, but thought it yet more journo-jabber. Was even sceptical at young Denzel’s account. My repentances to you, young man. Because you had the right of it, we are at last ruled by a bona fide Nodemaster!”
I returned his smile, wishing he’d wipe that awed look off his face.
“Did Mother Mai have any notion this was a problem? Could this be the reason she refused to connect with the local Node nexus?” asked Denzel.
I was about to dismiss the notion that she had the faintest idea what the Node needed, but hesitated. She’d continued refusing to link the village Nodery to the local nexus when it would’ve been smarter for her to do so. Did she avoid Adurn to save the Node? Cos she was right about her plant business, wasn’t she? The tanks really love being stroked with leaves… Wish I could ask her! I swallowed my bleak regret. “Not sure. She may have done.” I took a breath, adding, “Whatever she did or didn’t know – fact is, there’s a conspiracy to keep the Nodes throughout the province at sub-par levels. Now that the Priest Family have announced their support for Lord Seth and me and will shortly be resuming their seats on The Council, I aim to put that right.”
Denzel leapt into the air with a whoop that had most of the organi-tanks lighting up.
While Master Trask still staring at the tanks, tutted at his unBrarian behaviour, before suddenly crossing to the Node desk and playing the pressureholds with a display of skill that had my hands twitching in sympathy.
Oh, I didn’t know you could slide from there… And that’s a shortcut f
or that move, too.
A gust of a spiced air wafted through the room, less sweet than I recalled, but still sufficiently like the organi-packs’ former outgassing to remind me of many happy hours spent in this Nodery. I stamped on the familiar surge of longing. Whatever happens, I’ll never be a village Brarian. I’ll either continue being responsible for all of it, or deader than a nemmet’s brekkie. So whining for a past that’s gone is a pointless waste and it’s time I stopped.
“Master Trask, a pleasure to see you seated at the Node where I used to work. It surely suits you.” And if I go on sounding as if I mean it, sometime soon I’ll probably feel it. Expecting some pretty Gloriosan phrase in response, I was a tad taken aback when Master Trask stared ahead sightlessly, clearly engrossed in whatever he was doing.
“What’s to the south-eastern corner of the village just beyond the wall?” he asked, not bothering with my honorific.
“The barracks,” I replied.
“And have they always been there?”
“No, they were built for this visit.” What’s going on? He looks white. I turned to the guards, stationed by the door. “Could you please get an iced drink for Masters Trask and Denzel?”
“Both of us, Your Ladyship?”
I smiled at them. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
One of them glanced at Captain Helston, who snapped, “You heard Her Ladyship. On your way, soldier!”
After they marched out of the Nodery, I closed and locked the door behind them, turning to Captain Helston. “So who amongst my personal, hand-picked guard can I now trust?”
His sigh tightened the nasty knot in the pit of my gut. “There’s been a sickness, Your Ladyship. So I’ve been forced to draft in some soldiers from those brought in to protect the village.”
“How many?”
“About a third. Thing is…” He licked his lips, clearly nervous. “I’d like permission to get the village Healer to look at them. This thing didn’t start till the Healer Prime insisted on checking everyone.”
Did she now? Ellern never mentioned to me that she’d taken it on herself to treat my personal guard. “Don’t the soldiers have their own healers?”
“They do, Your Ladyship. But one’s died and the other two are sicker than a plague-crusted cat,” muttered Helston.
“And Healer Prime Ellern just happened to hear of their problems and volunteered to help?” asked Denzel.
“Something like that,” said the Captain.
Trask and Denzel exchanged a long look.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Healer Ellern has something of a reputation,” said Denzel.
“She’s an upswept article, who makes it very clear that her skills are only available to the highest-born Bridgedeckers in Gloriosa,” announced Master Trask. “I’d say it’s somewhat out of character for her to insist on treating mere soldiers.”
Oh… not Ellern! She’s always been so kind, so very protective of me.
“I’ll pull rank. Point out that, given soldiers are getting sicker, your safety is at stake if she goes on treating them,” said Helston. “Insist the village Healer has a look at them.”
“And the reason why I needed to know the whereabouts of the building in the south-eastern corner, is that there is a stream of heavily encrypted messages both being sent and received from that site,” said Master Trask, glancing across to Helston. “I take it, that isn’t you sending routine messages, Captain, to some destination in The Arids?”
Helston shook his head, grim-faced. “I generally send runners when it’s around the village. And if I do need to order something from Reseda or Gloriosa, it’s relayed via Reseda. I’ve no need to chatter to anyone in The Arids.”
I glared at him. “And why haven’t I heard about this sickness before now?”
He stared right back at my goggles without flinching. “Because it’s my job to see you’re protected. And what with all the other dross you’ve dealt with since we landed in this dustbowl, Your Ladyship, I took the decision to keep that particular problem away from you.”
Or did you deliberately keep me in the dark cos you’re part of the plot against me? If so, then my bones would probably end up alongside Mother’s in the Cnican cemetery anyway, because if the guard captain in charge of my personal safety decided to permanently retire me from the post of Brarian Overlord, I didn’t give an olive stone for my chances of surviving this mess.
I pushed down the panic beginning to squirm in the pit of my gut. Nothing I can do about that, one way or another. Let’s focus on what I can do. “In future, keep me in the info-loop. If there’s a possibility the Healer Prime is working for the other side, then I need to know.”
“Aye, Your Ladyship, though I don’t see her wanting to hurt you. She’s all about trying to smooth your way, whatever it takes.”
That’s what I thought. I rubbed the sore spot across my nose where the goggles chafed, wishing I knew who I could trust.
Meanwhile, Master Trask was still playing tunes at the nodetable. “I cannot get a clear fix on where the encrypted messages are coming from. The area is too wide and the privacy screens in such a small area as this village are distorting the signal too much.”
I blinked. “Who else is using a privacy screen?”
“There’s the one at the barracks, of course. And there is also one almost permanently running over at the Security Suite,” said Master Trask, after an impressively short pause. “And… here. Isn’t this where we are lodging?”
I peered at the cluster of houses surrounding The Square. “It is. Ajene Stitcher’s house. She’s got a privacy screen running, has she? I wonder if she knows?”
“I don’t see how she could fail to, Your Ladyship.” Master Trask didn’t snap at me, but it was close.
I recalled that Denzel said he didn’t suffer fools gladly. But then neither did I. “She’s no botware or tech to ease her workload, other than heat diffusers and temp regulators and panicked at the notion of having blast screens fitted. So I think it’s highly likely that Mistress Stitcher wouldn’t be aware if someone was running a privacy screen from one of her sleeprooms.”
“If we were outside the village, we should be able to get a fix on the signal – triangulate it, couldn’t we, Master Trask?” asked Denzel.
“That we could. Especially if we were in a flyer. Well done, Denzel,” said Master Trask.
“What if we officially visit the Nodes in Pistacia, tomorrow?” It’s about time I did something towards building up this powerbase thing that Seth has been working on. We need one in Acinos Province, too. “Can you round up sufficient guards you trust for such an outing?” I asked Helston.
“Oh yes, and to be honest, I’d be happier getting you away from this rats nest, if only for a day,” he replied.
“And if you’d be willing to leave it with me, Your Ladyship, I’ll arrange the particulars of your programme. There are a couple of Brarians in Pistacia I’ve met. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to help,” said Master Trask.
I blinked. “There are?”
“Master Trask knows Brarians from all over the planet,” said Denzel proudly.
“Hush, boy. The Nodemaster won’t be interested in the sorts of gatherings and conferences we attend to try to mine some of the knowledge we’ve lost since the Turbulence,” said Trask, looking flustered.
“Oh yes I would!” I lowered my voice, “And if you’re up for some facs-mining, there’s a trove of pre-Turbulence material tucked away in our Nodery.”
“Probably why it was poisoned,” said Denzel.
“Nemmet-hearted roachers!” I said, furious that anyone – especially a Brarian Major – would deliberately wipe out such precious knowledge.
Master Trask added, “Imbecilic traitors!”
A tap at the door warned us that the guards had returned with a jug of iced fruit juice and glasses, so abruptly talk switched to my invitation to Denzel and Master Trask to join Clete and me for dinner.
The following morning, our flyer landed within the confines of Acinosclean Sewage Services, the huge factory sprawling across a chunk of Pistacia, the biggest town in the province, which was given over to processing human waste from all over the planet. Anything deposited in a bog-box, certainly within this hemisphere, would end up in Pistacia, or Piss-Town as Cnicans generally called it.
Even before our flyer touched down, Master Trask and Denzel were wrinkling their noses at the stench. It brought back a raft of memories of my stay here. Some were good. It was in Pistacia that Seth and I discovered our true feelings for each other and I enjoyed working in a big kitchen with other cooks. Most of my recollections weren’t so happy, though.
So I hadn’t been surprised that when Vrox learnt of today’s visit, he’d snarled a foul curse and pushed me out of his head. As I’d half-expected his response, I wasn’t quite so giddy at the sudden lightness and quiet once the mantivore left my mind. In fact, now I was getting more used to it, I was starting to appreciate the peace. These days, Vrox’s thoughts tended to be hard-edged and heavy.
The flyer landed impressively smoothly, emphasising the difference in wealth between the scruffy, struggling village of my birth and this powerful, profitable corporation as their landing equipment was not only topline, but built to industrial strength.
Madam Stylist ensured my hair was coifed to piled perfection, my robes were draped just so and my goggles hadn’t smudged my foundation before the door to the flyer slid open and the gangway extended so that I could make a suitably impressive entrance, unlike in Cnicus, where I had to debark by ladder.
A cheer rang around the foetid space as overalled employees had gathered around the landing pad. Hope no one’s pay is docked for this gathering. Though I wouldn’t put it past the directors, who squeezed their workers as hard as they could.
Said roachers were lined up to bow and mouth suitably lace-lined phrases, not that I was fooled. They wielded far too much power to be overly worried at the regime change in Gloriosa, seeing as whoever had the Codings needed to use bog-boxes, or the heads as Gloriosans insisted on calling them. Though I’ve no idea whose head they were supposed to be squatting over.
