Mistworld (Deathstalker Prelude)

by Simon R. Green

  “I’m no bounty hunter. I just want to help you.”

  Mary laughed harshly. “I’ve seen the Investigator’s cloak before. I know your kind. I know what you are, and what you do. You’re as inhuman as the aliens you walk with. You want to take me back to the Empire.”

  “Listen to me,” said Topaz, stepping forward.

  Mary opened her mouth and sang.

  The street lantern shattered. Topaz staggered back as Mary’s song roared in her mind, and she raised her own voice in defence. Topaz and Mary stood face to face, unmoving, and the force of their combined songs whirled the fog and snow around them in a slow, churning maelstrom. The two minds smashed against each other, neither giving an inch, but Topaz felt a slow fear stir deep within her as she realised the rogue was using only a fraction of her power. Topaz summoned her strength. If she lost, then all of Mistworld went down with her. She reached deep inside herself, and drew upon the vast well of power she’d sworn never to use again. Five hundred men, screaming. Their eyes, so dark and empty. Topaz drew upon her strength, made it a part of her song, and threw it at the rogue esper. Mary didn’t even flinch.

  The rogue’s song rose effortlessly over Topaz’s, striking past the Investigator’s defences with contemptuous ease. All Topaz’s shields fell away, and Mary howled through her mind, searching ruthlessly for the information she needed. It only took a moment, and then Mary’s voice rose in triumph as she finally discovered the location of her precious sapphire. Topaz fell limply to the ground. She never felt the impact when she hit.

  Mary fell silent, and stood thoughtfully over the unmoving Investigator. The churning snow dropped back to the ground again, and the fog slowly grew still. A slow excitement welled up within Mary as she thought of regaining her lost sapphire, but there was also a dark, quiet voice whispering at the back of her mind. The voice had been there a long time. It told her where to look for her sapphire, who to approach, and what to do when they lied to her. Now the voice was telling her about the Mistport command centre. It told her there were lots of espers there, waiting for her; waiting for her to sing for them. Mary wanted to sing for them, but even more than that she wanted her sapphire. She hesitated, confused, torn between the two conflicting poles of her conditioning, and then she smiled and relaxed again as the answer came to her. First, she would go to Steel’s apartment and reclaim her lost jewel. Then, once the sapphire was safely hers again, she would go to the command centre. Mary smiled brightly as she walked away into the curling mists, and her eyes were very dark.

  Typhoid Mary’s program was nearing its end.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  * * *

  A Final Sacrifice

  CAT crouched uncomfortably on the flat asphalt roof of the building overlooking Steel’s apartment, and waited impatiently for Cyder’s signal. Port Director Steel lived right in the heart of Tech Quarter, a high-income high-tech area that Cat usually had enough sense to stay well clear of. The buildings were mostly bleak slabs of concrete and glass left over from the original Empire colony. They offered no easy hand-or footholds, and were lousy with security devices. Even worse, they all looked the same and Cat kept getting lost. He scowled about him at the thickening mists. He’d be glad when this job was over and he could get back to the more familiar timbered and gabled roofs of Thieves Quarter.

  The heating elements in his gloves had cut out again, and he pounded his fists together to keep the blood flowing. At least the thick mists and the recent heavy snow meant he could blend easily into the background. For once his white thermal suit was actually earning its keep. He glowered down at Steel’s apartment, but there was still no sign of the arranged signal. Cat thought of Cyder and Steel reclining at their ease before a blazing fire, sipping mulled wine and discussing the sumptuous meal they were about to enjoy. His stomach rumbled loudly. He sighed, and peered resignedly through the thickening mists at the brightly lit window below.

  Steel’s ground-floor apartment was warm, comfortable, and bedecked with carpets of an impressive thickness. Tapestries and rugs covered the walls, less to keep out the cold than to ward off the chill inspired by the blank white walls and ceiling. Colony buildings were designed to be easy to erect and proof against the elements, but that was all. Since they were never meant to be lived in for long, it didn’t matter that they were hardly pleasant on the eye. Frills and fancies could come later, when there was time. It said something about Mistport’s short and troubled history that buildings originally intended for temporary shelters were not only still standing hundreds of years later, but were still preferable to any of the stone-and-timbered buildings that had followed them.

  Pieces of high tech and objets retrouvés lay scattered casually across Steel’s spacious living room, side by side with small statuettes of gold and brass and silver. Steel fancied himself a collector, though his taste was frankly appalling. The various chairs and couches were smart and elegant, whilst still being sturdy enough to cope with Steel’s weight. First and foremost, the Director was a practical man. The single great window had the faint bluish tinge of steelglass, but Steel’s other security measures were politely inconspicuous. Even the window was mostly hidden behind heavy curtains.

  Cyder let Steel take her cloak and hang it up, and strolled admiringly round the room. Every time she paid Steel a visit he seemed to have acquired some new expensive trifle. It was a pity she’d only come for the sapphire.…

  “What are you doing here, Cyder?”

  She turned slowly to face Steel, knowing she looked stunning in her gown of red and gold satinet, tightly laced across the bosom.

  “I wanted to talk to you, and you wouldn’t answer my calls. So, here I am. Aren’t you glad to see me, darling?”

  Steel smiled suddenly. “Yes. Yes, I am. I could use some company. I’m just preparing dinner. Would you care to join me?”

  “Are you sure there’s enough for two?”

  Steel chuckled, and patted his stomach. “My dear Cyder, I always have enough for two.”

  “Then I would love to join you for dinner. You are, after all, still the finest chef in Mistport.” Cyder stopped, and looked at Steel curiously. “Is something wrong, Gideon? You look… tired.”

  Cyder was being polite, and they both knew it. Steel looked ghastly. His face was drawn and haggard, and his eyes were deep-sunk with exhaustion. Overweight though he was, Steel usually gave the impression of being light on his feet, but now all his weight seemed to have caught up with him, and his movements were slow and ponderous.

  “It’s been a long day,” said Steel, smiling faintly.

  “I heard about the gathering Fleet.”

  Steel looked at her for a moment, and then chuckled admiringly. “Now how the hell did you find out about that?”

  “I have my sources,” said Cyder, smiling demurely.

  “I’m sure you have,” said Steel. “Don’t worry about the Fleet, my dear. The esper shield is up and holding. Donald Royal’s keeping my seat warm at the control tower. There’s nothing really for him to do there, but… Hey, I was sorry to hear about the Blackthorn. The damage sounded pretty bad.”

  Cyder shrugged. “It wasn’t good. Still, we’re slowly picking up the pieces. We’ll be open for business again almost before you know it.”

  “That’ll cost you an arm and a leg. Are you all right for money, Cyder?”

  “Of course. I have my savings, and I should be collecting on a debt I’m owed quite shortly.”

  “Good. Well, make yourself comfortable while I see to the dinner. It won’t be long now.”

  He moved off into the adjoining kitchen, and Cyder poured herself a stiff drink from the most impressive of the decanters. She hadn’t thought it would be this easy. Something was worrying Steel, and it wasn’t just the Fleet. The plague carrier? Cyder shrugged, and sipped slowly at her wine. Excellent vintage. If nothing else, she would give Gideon an evening of good talk and company, and make him smile. It was the least she could do. They were, after all, ol
d friends.

  But fond as she was of Steel, business was business. She strolled over to the window, pushed back the heavy curtain, and drew a pencil torch from her voluminous sleeve. Outside, the fog was thicker than ever. She switched on the torch and waved it back and forth, hoping Cat could see it. He shouldn’t have any trouble breaking in, assuming her information on Steel’s security was up to date. If it wasn’t, this was going to be a most embarrassing evening. She turned off the torch and slipped it back into her sleeve. She glanced at the kitchen door, to be sure Steel was still safely occupied, and then pulled the curtain back into position and turned away from the window. She looked about the room, mentally pricing a few of the more expensive items, then wandered towards the kitchen. Something smelled nice. Out in the street, someone was singing.

  The window exploded inwards. Flying slivers of steelglass sprayed across the room, amid an inrush of freezing air. Cyder was thrown violently to the floor and lay sprawled on the carpet, her ears ringing. Not far away, a chunk of steelglass had been driven deep into the side of a chair, and other slivers had gouged deep holes in the carpet. Cyder slowly raised her head, and rivulets of blood ran down her face. She couldn’t feel her legs. She was shivering violently from the cold, and her head ached horribly. She fought to sit up, but her legs wouldn’t obey her. She finally raised herself up on one elbow, and turned her head painfully slowly to look behind her. And there, standing among the wreckage of the window, was a tall blonde wrapped in a tattered grey cloak. She was smiling, and her eyes were not sane.

  Thick streamers of fog rolled into Steel’s living room through the shattered window. If the blonde felt the cold, she gave no sign of it. She looked at Cyder, and moved slowly towards her. Cyder tried to drag herself away, and couldn’t. Blood ran down her face in a steady stream. The blonde loomed over her, still smiling.

  “Where is he?” she said calmly. “Where’s Steel?”

  “Here I am, Mary,” said Steel quietly. “Now get away from her.”

  Steel stood just inside his kitchen door. His face was pale, but his hands were steady. He and Mary studied each other for a while in silence.

  “How did you break my window?” said Steel finally.

  “I’m a Siren. A good singer can always shatter glass.”

  “But that’s steelglass.”

  The rogue shrugged. “Glass is glass. Where’s my sapphire.”

  “Mary…”

  “Don’t call me Mary! That’s not my name.”

  “It is now. You’re a rogue esper; Typhoid Mary, the killer.”

  Mary shook her head impatiently. “I haven’t killed anyone.

  Steel stared at her. “What are you talking about? You’ve killed hundreds, and mindwiped even more! Why do you think we’ve been searching for you?”

  “You want to hand me back to the Empire! I know you; I know your kind. I’m not going back. I’ll kill you first. I’ll kill you all before I let you send me back!”

  Steel saw the madness in her eyes, and licked his dry lips uncertainly. The rogue had all the signs of someone who’d been conditioned by the Empire mindtechs. Reason would only affect her within the limits of her conditioning. And even then, he had to be careful. There was no telling what might set her off. Say the wrong thing, and he could quite easily sign his own death warrant.

  “Mary, please let us help you. The Empire has been using your song to murder other espers.… “

  Mary laughed contemptuously. “Don’t waste my time, Steel. Your lies don’t interest me. You have something of mine, and I want it back. Where is it, Steel? Where’s my sapphire?”

  “Mary…”

  “Where’s my sapphire!”

  Steel looked at her for a moment, and then nodded at a smart little desk by the front door. “It’s locked in one of the drawers.”

  “Get it.”

  Steel moved slowly over to the desk, followed all the way by Mary’s unblinking gaze. He took a key from his pocket, careful to keep his movements slow and deliberate, and unlocked one of the desk’s drawers. He reached in and brought out a small leather pouch. He pulled open the drawstrings and took out a small blue gem, no more than half an inch in diameter.

  “Is this it?” he said slowly. “Is this what it’s all been about? One stupid little jewel?”

  “Give it to me,” said Mary eagerly. Steel put the pouch and the jewel on top of the desk, reached into the open drawer, and took out a disrupter. Mary looked at the gun, and smiled.

  “You killed Jamie Royal,” said Steel.

  “Give me my sapphire.”

  “He was a friend of mine, and you killed him. You want your sapphire? Come and get it.”

  Mary sang a single piercing note and Steel convulsed, the gun flying from his hand. He fell to the floor and lay there helplessly, shivering violently.

  Cyder tried to sit up further, so she could see where the gun had fallen, and her arm gave out. She fell forward onto the bloodstained carpet, and lay trembling in the silence. Somehow she’d never thought it would end like this. To die in the middle of a petty burglary… it just wasn’t fair. She coughed, and her ribs hurt, but she couldn’t move to ease them. One of her eyes was gummed shut with drying blood. She was cold, and so very afraid.

  Cat crouched helplessly outside the shattered window. There was nothing he could do. The woman was obviously a very powerful esper, and he didn’t even have a weapon. Talking on a rogue esper with his bare hands would only get him killed. If he just stayed where he was, hidden from sight, there was a chance he could still get out of this alive. He didn’t have to risk his neck. Cat shrugged suddenly, and pulled himself up onto the jagged window frame. He couldn’t run away. Cyder needed him.

  He crouched on the ironwood frame a moment, getting his balance just right. The rogue had her back to him. Cat gathered his strength and threw himself at her. The rogue must have heard something at the last moment. She started to turn, but Cat still slammed into her with enough force to send them both crashing to the floor. They rolled back and forth on the bloodstained carpet, Cat trying desperately to get a stranglehold on her. She brought her elbow back hard into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs, and his grip loosened. Mary pulled herself free, and turned to face him. Cat struggled up onto his knees. Mary opened her mouth and sang.

  Cat froze on his haunches as the song washed over him, searing through his muscles. His senses blurred in and out, twisted and jumbled. A tearing headache bent him in two, and then was suddenly gone. Mary was the most powerful esper Cat had ever encountered, and for the first time since he was a child, Cat could hear again.

  There was the sound of his own rasping breathing, and the scuffing of his hands and knees on the carpet. From out beyond the shattered window came the never-ending sounds of the city, muffled to a murmur by the thick fog. From all around him came the simple, wonderful, everyday sounds of life and living. And over and above everything else, he could hear Mary singing.

  Her voice was sweet and true, rising and falling like a single petal tossed on the wind. It filled Cat’s mind, and nothing else mattered. Mary knelt singing before him, face to face. Cat swayed to the song’s slow rhythm, glorying in his freedom from silence. He felt himself growing steadily weaker, felt the darkness gathering in around him, and didn’t care at all.

  He looked past Mary, and saw Steel sitting slumped against the far wall, his hands clapped to his ears, staring at nothing. Lying on the floor between Mary and Steel was Cyder. She lay stretched out on the carpet, bloodied and broken and very still.

  Cat rose shakily to one knee, took careful aim, and lashed out at Mary. The last sound he ever heard was his fist slamming into Mary’s chin. Mary fell backwards, and lay still.

  Cat cried silent tears, and moved slowly over to cradle Cyder’s bloody head in his lap.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  * * *

  Starting Over

  TOPAZ handed Steel a mug of steaming coffee.

  “Steel, you’ve got to be the
luckiest man I’ve ever met. If your mysterious friend had waited just a little longer to punch out Mary, you’d all have been brainburned.”

  “And don’t think I’m not aware of that, Topaz.” Steel warmed his shaking hands on the mug, and nodded his thanks to the Investigator. The coffee smelled delicious. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn it was the real thing. “The Watch Sergeant told me you had a run-in with Mary yourself, on the way here.”

  Topaz smiled grimly. “Seems I was lucky too. My Investigator’s training protected me from the worst of her song, and she didn’t wait to finish me off.” She looked at Steel narrowly. “Did you really stand up to Mary, armed only with a handgun?”

  Steel shrugged, embarassed. “I was too mad at her to be scared. I knew I didn’t stand much of a chance, but… I couldn’t let her get away. I had to give it a try, didn’t I?”

  Topaz laughed. “Steel, there’s hope for you yet.”

  They shared a grin, and Steel sank back in his chair and sipped gingerly at his coffee. It was real coffee. Where the hell had she found real coffee? He decided not to ask. It would only embarrass her. He sighed contentedly. He hadn’t felt this good in ages. The crisis was over, he was still alive, and Mistport was safe. It had been a bloody close thing, but they’d come through, and that was all that mattered. He glanced about him, and smiled wryly. He hadn’t come out of it entirely unscathed. His living room was a mess, with blood and glass everywhere. Someone was on the way to replace the shattered window, and he hated to think how much that was going to cost him. For the time being he kept the curtains closed and tried to pretend he couldn’t feel the cold. Thinking about it, Steel was surprised to find he didn’t really give much of a damn. He was alive, and the port was safe… He’d been thinking about redecorating anyway.

  The Watch had taken Mary away, still unconscious. The hospital would keep her safely sedated, until the port espers could work out some way to defuse her programming. She wasn’t to blame for all the things she’d done; Mary was just another Empire victim. There were lots of those on Mistworld.