“Dust Knights learn!” I called. “Read. Write. Numbers.”
That brought another hesitation. They didn’t answer all at once, but one by one, and then in ragged groups, they did all call, “Dust Knights learn! Read! Write! Numbers!”
Okay, that one would be more difficult to implement. I still had to find a way to make that work, but we would figure out something.
I regarded them steadily. “Dust Knights don’t lie!”
That brought an even bigger hesitation and more uneven response. “Dust Knights don’t lie.”
“What?” I shouted.
“Dust Knights don’t lie!” they shouted.
“Never betray the Knights!” I shouted.
“Never betray the Knights!”
I stared at them all, my gaze hard, “Never murder!”
They looked back at me, silent. Most if not all of them had probably lost someone they loved to violence, including the cartel battle. If I swore them to an oath against murder, I was taking away their vengeance. They knew what I meant by murder; it didn’t preclude killing in self-defense. Given how fast news traveled through the whisper, they would all know by now that I had killed a Vakaar punker yesterday. But if I didn’t make the ban on murder part of the Code, I could be creating an army of assassins by giving them such rigorous military training.
My voice carried throughout the cavern. “Dust Knights never murder.” Even if they agreed now, I would eventually lose some of them to that demand. That changed nothing of my intent. “Swear to the Code,” I said. “Or leave.”
Pat Sandjan and Biker answered together, clear and firm. “Never murder.”
No one else spoke. No one else moved. Nothing. Gods only knew what would happen to the Oey knights if the oath ended here. They had courage, for they had just put the survival of their circle in jeopardy.
The gang leader the scarred arms abruptly spoke, the youth who had watched me with such hostility before. He met my gaze and spoke in a deep voice. “Never murder.”
A ragged call went through the group. “Never murder.”
“Dust Knights never murder!” I shouted at them.
“Dust Knights never murder!” they shouted back, all of them this time.
“Dust Knights, ready!”
“Dust Knights, ready!”
So it was done. The Dust Knights of Cries had a Code. I let out a silent breath and spoke more normally. “Let’s get started, then.”
The group shifted, people moving, relaxing, preparing to work. I grouped them by age. The girl from Down-deep looked panicked when I moved her father, so I put them on the edges of their respective groups, which left them right next to each other. I warmed everyone up with calisthenics, giving simpler versions to the younger children. For today, we all worked together, training in an underground cavern lit only by my light stylus.
Teaching tykado wasn’t my only purpose. I hoped becoming a part of this group would give them a sense of accomplishment that extended to the rest of their lives. Through the Knights, I could introduce new ideas. I wanted them to know they had choices, that they didn’t have to spend their lives stealing, wasting away in the dark, clawing at each other for the limited resources. True change wouldn’t come from outside, from charity kitchens or the above-city forcing our children into their schools. It started here, from within.
Maybe the Knights could become a source of stability in the aqueducts. It had already started, with the warning they spread about the cartel. The undercity couldn’t keep its autonomy if we didn’t police ourselves. The cartel battle had stirred up too much attention. Unless we strengthened our community from within, the above-city would come in and try to do it themselves, injuring our way of life without realizing what they were taking. Maybe I was a fool to believe I could help just by teaching people how to do tykado, but it was worth a try.
A part of me wanted to run from this, to return to my easy life in Selei City and leave the darkness behind. But the undercity would be with me no matter where I went, and I could no longer escape that truth.
XXI
Negotiation
The plunk of water never stopped in the Grotto. Drip. Pause. Drip. Big drops fell from the ceiling and plopped into the pool. Intermittent but ceaseless, they had fallen since before I was born and they would continue long after we all were gone. I sat on a rock stump and turned on my stylus, creating a small bubble of light in the darkness.
I expected Gourd, but it was Jak who walked out of the shadows, coming around the lake, his black clothes a part of the darkness.
“Heya,” I said.
“Heya.” He sat on the ledge where Gourd had sat the last time.
“Good fighting,” I said, thinking of the training session today. “Had my back. Thanks.”
“Eh. You got good scrap there.”
I smiled. We had called ourselves scrap as kids, half meaning our rough-tumble bouts and half that we were made of scrap metal.
Jak’s smiled flickered, then vanished. “Got a good thing there, Bhaaj. The Knights.”
I wondered why he sounded angry. “Could be. We’ll see.”
He met my gaze. “Will we?”
I didn’t know how to respond to his real question, which wasn’t about the Knights, so I said, “Yah. See what happens.”
“That all you’ll see?”
He wasn’t going to let me off. So I said, “Nahya.” I reached out and touched his arm. “See what’s good here.”
His grin returned in full, wicked force. “See what’s trouble, eh?”
Ho! That grin of his was more potent than any hack. I scowled. “Yah. Plenty of trouble.”
He just smiled. It was enough. In the millennia past, when women had led armies across the stars, empires could have fallen over a man like him. An Earther once told me about a prince whose face launched a thousand ships into war. The Earther swore the legend referred to a woman named Helen of Troy, not a man, but I hadn’t believed her, even if Earthers had once lived in patriarchal cultures and somehow survived. Jak could have inspired a thousand ships and then some.
So okay, the love of my life was also, as Takkar so kindly put it, a disreputable undercity kingpin. But he was my kingpin. Darkness and light. He wasn’t Dig, whose trade had torn apart lives. He catered to other vices, gambling and sex, but he also supported the undercity. He paid his employees well, found them medical care, and used his network to support people, as he had done for the children I found with their dead mother. Jak was no saint, nor would he ever be, but the good in him also went deep, for all that he denied that particular truth.
All I said was, “Gourd’s not coming?”
“He’s making water.”
We all had our roles, Gourd, Jak, Dig, and me. But now we were three instead of four. “Jak.”
He regarded me, wary from whatever he heard in my tone. “Yah?”
“I have to report Braze.” I was the only witness who could provide evidence that an ISC officer had supplied the cartels with weapons. Both sides, for gods’ sake.
“Can’t,” he said flatly.
“Won’t mention the Black Mark.”
“You won’t have evidence without that.”
I rubbed my eyes, tired after the long day. He was right. Braze had sold the weapons to pay off her gambling debts. If I testified to that, I would implicate Jak.
“You got my word,” I told him. “I won’t mention the Black Mark.”
“Then the military has no case.”
“Probably not. But they’ll have enough to look harder.” I could cast suspicion on Braze. What they did about it was their decision.
“You got to give your word,” he said. “No mention of the Black Mark. No hint.”
“You got my word.”
He nodded, accepting the promise.
“Now you give me your word,” I said.
He tensed. But that was how matters worked. A bargain. I gave my oath, he gave his.
“For what?” he asked.
/> “About the Black Mark.”
He regarded me warily. “What about it?”
“It makes gambling addicts.”
His scowl deepened. “It’s just cards and dice, Bhaaj. It makes nothing.”
“It makes problems. Not with everyone, sure. But some.”
“What, you want me to promise no gambling?” He snorted, not bothering to dignify the idea with his refusal.
“Promise me this,” I said. “You won’t let the gambling destroy people.”
“That’s their responsibility. Not mine.”
“You own the Black Mark. That gives you responsibility.”
“I don’t know what the hell you expect,” he growled.
I wasn’t sure myself. I sat thinking. “You got a bar, a badass drinks too much, the bartender shuts her down. Refuses that last drink. Sends her home.”
“I can’t shut down my gamblers.”
“The Black Mark is yours. You can do whatever you want.”
He glared at me. But after a moment, he said, “I’ll give it a think.”
I nodded. If he said he’d think about it, he would come up with something. He couldn’t solve the problems of gambling addiction any more than a bartender sending a drunk home would solve the problems of alcoholism. But it might help.
Beyond Jak, three figures were taking form out of the shadows. He looked around, following my gaze. The trio walked into the light: Pat Sandjan Oey; the youth with the scars who led the dust gang of older teens; and the towering adult punker who had scared the blazes out of everyone. As they came over, Jak stood up and melted away into the shadows.
The trio sat on rock stumps around mine. I hadn’t requested them in particular, just put out the word that I wanted the leaders. I left it up to the knights to decide on those leaders, because their choice would tell me a lot about who they would follow. I knew I could work with Pat, but I was less sure about these other two.
I tapped the heels of my hand together. “Bhaajan.”
The youth with the scars hit his hand together. “Ruzik.”
I nodded to him. Ruzik, after the powerful reptilian mounts ridden by the Abaj Tacalique. A good, strong name.
The punker considered me with a cold gaze. Her voice sounded like a growl, but I suspected that was just the way she naturally spoke. She said, “Dark Singer.”
Well, shit. “Singer” meant someone who sung death to her victims. An assassin. “Dark” was a rank, not a name. It indicated that among her circle, she had the most kills. I had no doubt she had composed more than a few songs, including in the recent battle. I was screwed.
Yet she had also sworn to the Code of the Dust Knights. And her gang sent her as their leader, though none of them were punkers. Seeing a rider in a gang was unusual enough, I had never known a punker to ran with a dust gang. You never left the cartel, not if you valued your life. So why was Singer here? Maybe she wanted out of the cartel and finally had the chance. More likely, she intended to rebuild whichever one she came from, recruiting from among the gangs and riders. Learning tykado could make her even more brutally effective.
Had I been Chief Takkar, I’d have thrown her in prison. But I was Bhaajan, so I instead I said, “You’re a Knight.”
“Yah.” She made that one word a challenge.
“Knights don’t sing,” I said. “Don’t shoot, sniff, or hack.”
Her gaze never wavered. “Got Code.”
I had to make a choice. So I called on my intuition about people, which could mean zilch but had served me well in the past. I chose to believe she came to the knights because she wanted to change her life, not because she intended to build a new cartel. I hoped to the gods I was right.
I considered the three of them. “We got an offer. A bargain.”
Pat looked intrigued. “What for what?”
I answered carefully. “The who is easier than the what. It’s not like any other bargain.”
Ruzik frowned. “Why not?”
“It’s with the above-city.”
Singer spat to the side. “The hell with that.”
“The army wants to test us for psi,” I said.
“Psi?” Ruzik’s forehead furrowed. “What is that?”
“Someone who feels moods,” Pat said. “Hears thoughts.”
“Lying,” Singer said. “The army wants to finish wiping out the cartels.”
“They gave their word,” I said. “They’ll just test us, nothing else.”
“They want to round us up, yah?” Ruzik demanded. “Send us to prison.”
“Nahya,” I said. “Just test. Then we can leave.”
“Leave what?” Pat asked. “Where is the test?”
“The Concourse Rec Center,” I said.
“Fuck that,” Singer said.
“The police won’t touch any of us,” I said. “I have that promise.”
“A lie,” Ruzik stated.
“No. Is true,” I told him.
Singer gave me an incredulous look. “Says who?”
“Majda,” I said. “Colonel Lavinda Majda.”
They all stared at me.
“Bullshit,” Singer said.
Pat motioned at my gauntlet comm. “We all heard her jack with Majda on that.”
I wasn’t sure where “jack” came from, but probably it meant she and the other knights had heard me warning Lavinda about the cartel battle. “That’s right,” I said. “Talk with Majda.”
Singer considered Pat. Beneath her perpetually hostile gaze, I thought I saw something else. Respect. She had seen a fourteen-year-old girl stand up and swear to a part of the Code that no one else would accept, not at first. That took guts.
Singer turned back to me. “Majda sent in soldiers during our fight.”
“Majda also gave her word,” I said. “No army interference in the battle.”
Singer just sat, cold and unsmiling. The rest of us waited. Only she could accept or reject that claim. The moment stretched out, longer and colder.
Then she spoke in her gravelly voice. “It’s true. They didn’t interfere.”
My shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Will you do the bargain? And bring the others?”
Ruzik snorted. “Those tests are useless.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “People here maybe have psi.”
“Never seen it,” Ruzik told me. “Hear thoughts? Stupid, eh.”
“Maybe you’ve never seen it,” I said, “but if anyone tests positive, the army will offer good bargains.”
Singer suddenly spoke, sharp and angry. “Bargains like node-bliss? Fuck them.”
So she knew about node-bliss. I hadn’t thought the cartels were selling it, mainly because they hadn’t cracked down on Scorch, and they would have if she encroached on their territory. “Is that what you want? Node-bliss?”
“I don’t want shit,” she told me. “I’m done with it.”
Good gods. That sounded like she had taken the drug. The image of Singer as a psion was hard to credit. Still, if the drug did nothing to her, why the vehement reaction? She was in a lot better shape than the users I had seen in the cave, but she’d had more time to recover, and I didn’t doubt she was stronger than all of us here combined.
Pat spoke. “Say we these tests. What’s the bargain?”
“Food and fresh water,” I said. “A good meal.”
They sat taking that in. Singer said, “Don’t like it.”
“Yah,” Pat said. “I don’t trust them.”
Ruzik squinted at me. “They got meat?”
I almost smiled, remembering Jak. In our youth, he had craved steak, especially during that growth spurt he went through at sixteen. I hadn’t cared much, but I had grown more slowly, if that made a difference. It was hard to say. We had always managed to find enough food, and Jak was as sharp as a honed knife, so I doubted malnutrition had affected him. Well, probably not. Gods knew, he could be a stubborn, hardheaded man, always hyperactive, but he probably would have been that way no matter what. R
egardless, he had always loved big, juicy steaks.
“They got meat,” I told Ruzik. “Plenty.”
He tried to look disinterested, but I recognized the signs. He wanted that steak.
“We can’t go on the Concourse,” Pat said. “Cops chase us away.”
“They won’t for this,” I said.
Pat just snorted.
“They’ll feed everyone?” Ruzik asked.
“Everyone,” I said. “Big steaks.”
Singer spoke in a rough voice. “They feed baby, too?”
She had a child? That I didn’t expect. Maybe she was asking for someone else in her circle.
“Baby, too.” I thought back to my talk with Lavinda. “They’ll also bring doctors, to do health checks.” I had seen so many times how becoming a parent or guardian could prod people to change their lives, striving to create a future for the child they looked after.
“What is a doctor?” Ruzik asked.
“Healer,” I said.
Pat frowned. “Not sick.”
They could all use checkups and vitamin meds, but they wouldn’t believe that. I needed a better argument. “Listen,” I said. “We all should walk Concourse. Hold our heads high.” The old anger stirred within me. “It is our undercity, including the Concourse. We have a right to be there. If enough of us come, they can’t run us off.”
The three of them just looked at me. If my little speech had any effect, they showed no sign.
“Just give it a think.” I motioned upward. “Meet me in the Foyer tomorrow, noon, when the sun reaches the top of its travel.” People here paid little attention to sunrise or sunset, which we couldn’t see, but it was easy to steal mesh access and get the exact moment of any day.
They continued to look at me.
“We’ll go to Rec Center,” I said. “Have a meal, fresh water, do the tests, come home.”
Undercity Page 26
