‘Uracus, Chaing!’ Jenifa exclaimed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘My job,’ he told her calmly, refusing to let any hint of emotion contaminate his voice. ‘You,’ to the Eliter girl, ‘tell them this: There was a boat tied up to this jetty yesterday. I believe one of my kind left in it. Is that correct?’
She looked scared as she turned to the group of Vatni and began blowing a series of notes on the flute. The aliens shuffled closer together and hooted softly among themselves, their tusk clicks subdued. Then one of them, a big male, waddled forwards to stand in front of Chaing. At another time, Chaing might have felt intimidated by the alien’s size and strength. Not today. Today he was going to face them down. This was the point where Florian’s luck ran out.
‘Why do you do this, human of the land?’
‘What’s this one’s name?’ Chaing asked.
‘Mooray,’ the translator told him.
‘Well, Mooray, did Florian take your boat into the next valley two nights ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he use your boat to sneak away yesterday afternoon?’
‘Why do you want to know this?’
Chaing spun round, and fired the flamethrower again, sweeping the long horizontal jet of flame over one of the bigger huts until it was completely ablaze.
‘Did you help him escape?’
‘Friend Florian left this place in a boat yesterday afternoon.’
‘You would be better off not making friends with people like him. Where was he going?’
‘I do not know.’
Chaing turned and raised the flamethrower nozzle again.
A furious hooting came from the Vatni.
‘He doesn’t know,’ the translator said frantically. ‘Florian went down the Kellehar. That was the last Mooray saw of him. But . . .’
‘Yes?’ Chaing asked darkly.
She frowned, and played some fast notes, clicking the maracas.
The Vatni replied.
‘Florian said he’d be back in a month.’
‘Why a month?’
‘It would be safe to return then. He didn’t say why.’
*
‘You’re sure this time?’ Stonal asked.
‘Yes, sir.’ Chaing was standing in the mobile command centre, looking at the new maps Hokianga’s officers were unrolling across the table. These were a smaller scale than the ones illustrating the roadblocks and road patrols, but they showed the entire river Crisp tributary network in detail from the coast to the west of Opole. Some of the northern rivers reached almost up to the Pritwolds. He hadn’t realized how many subsidiary rivers there were, nor their multitude of feeder streams. Most of them were large enough for boats to use. Apparently back in the Void, a lot of the region’s commerce had been carried by cargo barges. Then after the Great Transition and the advent of combustion engines, most of those goods shifted to road transport. ‘He’s in a Vatni boat heading downriver. Or at least he was yesterday. I don’t think he’ll be able to make it all the way to Opole. The Kellehar will take him down to the Crisp, but after that he’d have to row against the current to get to the city. And he’s got a baby to take care of. He’ll switch to an alternative route soon enough. There are two possibilities – the Eliter underground or his gang connections.’
‘Very well. Your course of action?’
‘I’ve got regiment troopers heading for every town and village along the Kellehar. They’ll ask the portmasters if they’ve seen the rowing boat. They’ll also commandeer motor boats to patrol the river. Colonel Hokianga is in contact with the river sheriff’s office at Opole. They’re going to send their boats downriver to the Kellehar. It’s a pincer movement. If he’s on the river, we’ll get him. If the boat is berthed somewhere, we’ll find it.’
‘Very good, Chaing.’
‘I’d like to use Section Seven authority to deploy that Air Force helicopter from the Opole squadron. That can cover the Kellehar a lot quicker than boats.’
‘You have that authority. Don’t keep referring back to me; I’m not here to cover your arse. Carry on.’
Chaing put the telephone receiver down, and let out a breath of relief.
‘So now what?’ Jenifa asked.
‘Get the helicopter up. We’ve got a few hours of daylight left. And I need those files from Opole prioritized.’
‘Yes, sir.’ She grinned and picked up the telephone.
*
It was seven o’clock when the radio call came in from one of the boats the regiment troopers were using. They’d found an empty Vatni-made rowing boat snagged on the banks of the Kellehar, seventeen kilometres downstream from a town called Letroy.
5
The sewing kit didn’t have much thread in it, and the needles were bigger than the ones Florian was used to. He was also having trouble cutting up the curtains from the spare room; the kitchen scissors were blunt. But he was determined the toddler should have a decent dress – at least for one day. Besides, a dress was a lot easier to lift up when she needed the toilet. So he started stitching just as the rose-gold sun rose above the cliff, sending a thick light pouring through the living chamber’s opening.
‘How long is this going to last you?’ Florian muttered to himself; already she was larger than when he’d woken up. He glanced over at the toddler, who was now standing beside the raised fireplace. She was naked except for her nappy – a strip of faded red towel held together by four large safety pins. Her fingers raked through the mound of cold ash. Small puffs of the stuff clotted the air round her, swirling like miniature snowflakes to dust her black hair.
Florian sighed, but didn’t try to stop her. She laughed as she flung a handful of ash into the air – then sneezed.
He turned back to the dress. The cloth was too thick really, and the faded green flower print wouldn’t have been his first choice. His stitching was crude; he was used to sewing on buttons and patches, not whole seams.
‘You’re going to look really gorgeous in this. Yes, you are.’
‘Dada!’ She grinned and began to totter across the floor, trailing ash in her wake. ‘Hunquee. Hunquee very, Dada.’
‘Oh, look at the state of you. We’ll give you another bath, and then you can wear the pretty dress.’
‘Bath! Bubbles!’
‘Yes. Bubbles. Lots of bubbles before we go.’
‘That needs to be real soon,’ a man’s voice said.
Florian whirled round, knocking several cotton bobbins off the table. The man was standing in the entranceway to the hall, dressed in a worn check shirt and dirty grey jeans. He wasn’t tall, but had a rangy physique, emphasized by exceptionally long arms. His face had a long jaw, with wide eyes and small grey-blue irises, making it hard to see what he was looking at. Just by standing there he was managing to intimidate Florian.
Teal barked at the intruder.
‘Who . . . ?’ Florian grunted.
‘Name’s Lukan. Billop said you needed a ride into Opole.’
‘Oh. Um. Yes.’
‘Let’s move it then, guys.’ He walked into the chamber, and glanced quizzically at the half-completed dress. ‘Sweet.’
Florian scooped up the toddler, ignoring the ash that smeared down his tie-dye shirt. ‘I didn’t know you were here already. Joffler didn’t say.’ He glanced back at the entranceway, wondering where the crud the buyer had got to.
‘Well, here I am.’ Lukan eyed Teal. ‘Nobody mentioned a dog.’
‘Teal comes with us,’ Florian insisted stubbornly.
‘Okay. But it’s going to be kind of crowded on your side of the car, what with the girl and all.’
‘I’ve got some bags we need to take as well.’
‘Really? Buddy, you might want to take a look outside.’
Florian gave him a worried look, then went over to the big oval window. ‘Oh crud,’ he groaned. His retinas zoomed in on the road that led out of Letroy to the west. A long convoy of black Terrain Trucks was rumbling along it. To the east, th
e other road that led into the town had a similar regiment convoy heading in.
‘I spent the whole night avoiding their roadblocks to get here,’ Lukan said, sounding almost amused. ‘They’re sure riled up hot over something. You want to wait around and find out what?’
‘N-no.’
‘Good.’ Lukan clapped his hands loudly. ‘Come on, then.’
Joffler appeared behind him, still pulling on his kaftan. ‘Lukan. Hi there, fella, wasn’t expecting you for a while. Uh—’ He looked back into the hallway. ‘I thought the gate was locked?’
Lukan grinned, showing off three missing teeth, and slapped a hand down hard on Joffler’s shoulder. Joffler winced.
‘No cage is ever going to hold me.’ Lukan laughed. ‘Told you that enough times, fella!’
‘We have to go,’ Florian said anxiously.
‘What’s happen—’ Joffler caught sight of the convoys. ‘Holy crud!’ He stared at Florian, his jaw open. ‘Are they coming for you? All of them? Crudding Uracus, fella, I thought you were in trouble with her mother! Not . . . Oh crud, what have you done?’
‘Rule one: never ask,’ Lukan said. ‘If you don’t know anything, you can’t tell the sheriffs squat when they come a-knocking.’ He pulled a huge hunting knife out of a sheath on his belt.
Florian took a step back, hugging the toddler tighter.
‘Rule two: I don’t drive no Fallers.’ He beckoned. ‘Come on, buddy, blood-check time.’
Very reluctantly, Florian held out a hand. The blade wasn’t just long, it was amazingly sharp. ‘Oww!’
‘Had to be sure,’ Lukan said without sympathy, and pushed the blade back into its sheath. ‘You really sure you want to take a bag?’
‘Yes. We have to; it’s for Billop.’ Florian started to suck his thumb. The cut stung.
‘You got one minute, then I’m outta here, with or without you.’
Florian ran into the spare room and struggled to get his backpack on, then shouldered the duffel bag. Into the kitchen, and basically took every piece of food he could find – not much. Finally, he picked up the toddler.
‘Dada? Hunquee, Dada. Very hunquee.’
‘It’s all right,’ he promised. ‘We’re going for a big fun ride. Bouncy bouncy along in a car. You and me.’
‘Dada.’ She hugged him, and giggled. ‘Still hunquee.’
‘I’ve got your milk. But we have to go.’
Lukan and Joffler were talking in low, heated voices when he arrived back in the living chamber. Florian went over to the table and picked up the half-made dress and the sewing kit.
‘You’ve gotta be kidding me,’ Lukan said.
‘She doesn’t have any clothes,’ Florian said, hating how whiny he sounded.
‘Give me the bag.’ Lukan took the duffel bag from him. ‘These are all Billop’s going to care about anyway.’
Florian squared up to Joffler. ‘Thanks. For everything. I mean it.’
The buyer couldn’t quite meet Florian’s earnest gaze. ‘Sure thing, fella.’
‘I’ll see you in a month. Back at the Wymondon store for a handover, yeah? There’s going to be a lot of waltans ready by then.’
‘At the store it is, fella.’ Joffler hurried forwards and hugged him, then kissed the toddler. ‘Look after her, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘We need to move it, buddy,’ Lukan said as they hurried away from the outcrop. ‘Once those troopers’ boots hit the street, we are dead men walking.’
‘What do you think they’re going to do?’ Florian asked apprehensively. Teal was bounding along beside him, happy to be outside again.
‘I was listening to their radio chatter last night,’ Lukan said. ‘They found a boat downriver from here, yesterday afternoon late on. Lots of big noise about that, like someone shoved a hot needle up their arse. Their mobile command centre came down out of the mountains and set up there. Been squawking ever since. Turns out they’re looking for a man and a baby travelling together.’ He raised his pale eyebrows. ‘Fancy that, huh? So they’re hitting Letroy and three other villages along the river this morning. They’ve got orders to visit every house and ask questions, and Giu help anyone that doesn’t let them in or answer. They can just break the door down and cart them off for PSR interrogation. They can do that because this is an official nest alert.’
‘Oh crud,’ Florian said. He clutched the toddler harder. ‘But I’m not! I’m not a Faller.’
Lukan grinned. ‘I know that. Why do you think I checked your blood? I’m a driver; I get cargo where it’s supposed to go, is all. Never failed to deliver. Ain’t about to start now. I got me a reputation to think about.’
Florian nodded, too scared to say anything.
There weren’t many people about as they hurried along the paths that wound round the rock outcrops. Florian could hear the engines of the Terrain Trucks grumbling across Letroy. If they’re still moving, that’s good, right? It means they haven’t let the troopers out yet.
‘Hunquee!’
‘All right, all right,’ Florian said as the toddler squirmed about in his arms.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Lukan asked. ‘That thing on her head, gotta be bad news, right?’
‘No,’ Florian said, keeping it casual. ‘It’s a submandibular-gland tumour, but non-cancerous. The doctor said they’ll remove it when she’s older.’ His u-shadow had accessed files of similar-looking natural tumours, and it was a nicely complicated name – the kind that if you say it authoritatively no one would question.
‘Uh, right. So how old is she?’ Lukan asked.
‘I . . . I’m not sure when she was born. Her mother didn’t tell me.’
‘Oh man, that has to hurt. But you win, coz she’s a real cutie. What’s her name?’
‘Hunquee! Hunquee! Hunquee!’
‘Essie,’ Florian said proudly.
They headed away from the river towards the cliff that dominated the town.
‘Where’s the car?’ Florian asked. ‘Do you think you can get past the regiment? There are a lot of them.’
‘You worry about your girl. Leave the delivery to me.’
Florian wanted to ask a whole lot more questions, but didn’t have the nerve. There was something about Lukan that reassured him. If anyone could drive them to Opole, it was him. Yet at the same time Florian felt thoroughly daunted by the man.
Lukan stopped outside Gemain’s store, which still had the shutters down. He checked round to see if anyone was about, then used a key to open the wooden door.
Gemain was waiting inside. He nodded tersely to Florian and showed them through the back of the narrow chamber that made up the store. There were stairs carved into the stone, leading up to his home above. Another locked door that led into the store room, which he opened for them.
‘Thanks, buddy,’ Lukan said, and shook his hand as they went through. The cavern was filled with storage racks holding bales of cloth, and big drums of dye. Lukan went right to the back, and pushed at the rack. It pivoted neatly away from the stone wall, revealing a circular opening a metre and a half wide. Wherever it led to was hidden by darkness.
‘This’ll take us to the top,’ Lukan said. ‘This old cliff is riddled with natural caves. The people who built their homes here opened up a few, but the rest, the deeper ones, are unused and unmapped. Well, most of them, anyway.’ There were five torches on the ground just inside the opening. He gave one to Florian and switched on his own.
Teal didn’t like the narrow caves at all. Florian had to coax him along the whole way, even carrying him when they had to work their way up vertically. Some of the passageways were oppressive; when he shone his torch into some fissures the beam couldn’t find the far end.
The toddler’s cries got so bad that after forty minutes Florian had to stop and give her one of the richmilk bladders. Lukan took the delay well, but he did complain the torch batteries might not last.
Eventually they made it to the highest cave, which Lukan explained w
as part of a rock ridge several hundred metres behind the top of the cliff. He used it as a hidden garage and small-scale repair shop. It was wide, over twenty metres, and not particularly high, three metres at the apex. Parked in the middle of the rumpled stone floor was the big old Coperearl saloon Joffler had told him about. The bodywork had started out as a light blue, but now had various different-coloured patches where some new metal sheet had been riveted on and painted with whatever colour had been available. There was some kind of fat air intake sticking up out of the centre of the bonnet. But it was the tyres that drew Florian’s attention; they belonged on something a lot bigger. Lukan had extended the wheel arches considerably to cope with them, and the hefty suspension was now lowered below the base of the car, lifting it forty centimetres higher than when it rolled off the production line.
‘Great Giu,’ Florian muttered. Even the toddler stared at the machine with interest.
Lukan lit an oil lamp and grinned back at them. ‘She’s something else, huh?’
‘Certainly is,’ Florian admitted. He’d enjoyed doing his own maintenance work on the Openland, but the Coperearl was beyond anything he’d ever be able to build.
‘I calls her Sandy-J, after a girl I was hot on. Hell of a ride.’ He winked then gave the toddler a guilty glance.
‘Right.’
‘Hunquee!’
Little hands were tugging urgently at the tassels on Florian’s tight black trousers. ‘Coming, sweetheart,’ he promised, and shrugged out of the backpack. The toddler grabbed the bladder from him.
‘She’ll be finished in a minute,’ Florian said as Lukan walked towards the gloomy shadows that shrouded the front of the cave. He could see the entrance had been blocked off by a wall of wooden planks at a steep angle. Most of them were supported by thick posts, while in the middle a rectangular door was held in place by a complicated pulley-and-chain arrangement, and two counterweights. It looked like the whole section could hinge up horizontally. Florian was quite curious what the other side of the door looked like – some kind of camouflage?
Night Without Stars (Chronicle of the Fallers Book 2) Page 27
