Angel Arias

by Marianne de Pierres

  ‘Open up or we’ll burn you out,’ shouted a voice.

  The three stared at each other. It was Rajka, for certain.

  Naif put her fingers to her lips and beckoned Markes. Together the three dragged the chest of drawers from near the window and settled it against the door. The thumping started up again, and the shouts. The handle rattled again but the heavy lock held.

  After a while the noise stopped.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ whispered Charlonge. ‘We should go to Ruzalia.’

  But Naif shook her head. ‘Wait.’

  The three leaned on the chest of drawers, listening. As the moments crawled past, Naif’s skin prickled with fear.

  She’d felt the same sense of wrongness at the Youth Council meeting on Ixion when the Ripers had inducted Markes. Then she’d seen demons appear and crawl from the floor and up Markes’s body. It had happened one other time too, soon after she’d eaten a whole pod.

  Right now she couldn’t see any demons. But it was as though they were hiding just out of her vision, waiting to claw at her.

  She blinked and shook her head. ‘Quickly! Lock the window!’

  Markes charged across the room and wrenched the shutters. Before he could close them a set of hands appeared on the ledge. A head followed the hands, a boy’s face painted with black stripes and a knife blade between his teeth.

  ‘Shut it!’ shouted Charlonge. ‘Shut it.’

  But Markes froze, unsure of what to do. If he closed it the boy would fall.

  Charlonge ran and grasped a large candlestick from the mantelpiece. She smashed it down on the intruder’s knuckles. The boy’s mouth fell open as he moaned and the knife dropped away.

  She hit him again, right across the bridge of the hand, and they heard the crack of his finger bones.

  He screamed and let go. They heard nothing more except the thud as he hit the ground far below the window.

  Charlonge threw the candlestick away and gave a low moan of distress.

  ‘Markes, close it!’

  Naif’s command broke his trance.

  While he slid the bolts across, Naif went to comfort her friend.

  ‘Have I killed him?’ whispered Charlonge.

  ‘You stopped him, Char. He had a knife. You saved us.’

  Markes joined their huddle. ‘I’m s-sorry, Char. I’m not . . . I didn’t know . . . what to do.’

  Charlonge hugged him, crying. ‘It’s all right.’

  They stayed together like that until the banging started on the door again.

  ‘Murderers!’ screamed Rajka. ‘Filthy murderers.’

  Naif went to the door and raised her voice. ‘He came at us with a knife. Why do you want to hurt us?’

  ‘We want our freedom. She can’t make us stay here,’ he said.

  ‘That’s between you and Ruzalia.’

  ‘She won’t listen, but we’ll make her take notice. You will make her take notice.’

  ‘Why would she listen to me?’

  ‘She singled you out tonight. She talked to you. Now come out or we’ll hack the door down!’

  ‘You think she’ll allow you to destroy her home?’ Naif scoffed.

  ‘She’s not here. She took the airship out. We’re getting an axe. By the time she’s back we’ll have you.’

  ‘Ruzalia doesn’t bargain. She’ll come after you.’

  ‘Let her try,’ retorted Rajka. ‘We know what to do.’

  Naif returned to her friends and crouched down. ‘We have to get out of here,’ she whispered.

  ‘How? They’re outside the door and the window,’ said Markes.

  He was still holding Charlonge’s hands. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears and she was trembling.

  ‘What about the ceiling?’ Naif said.

  They looked up. A dusty ventilation grille was in the corner of the ceiling above the door. Charlonge pulled her hand free from Markes’s to cover her eyes. ‘It’s too high. I couldn’t.’

  ‘We’ll slide the desk onto the chest of drawers and then put the chair on top of that,’ said Naif. ‘You’ll be able to manage that.’

  She shook her head; her whole body shook.

  ‘Char,’ said Naif. ‘You just did something really brave to save us. Don’t wait for Rajka to break the door down. You heard what he said. Ruzalia isn’t here. We have to look after ourselves.’

  ‘You don’t understand. It’s the height. In Ruzalia’s airship, I wanted to throw myself over the edge. I c-can’t control the feeling.’

  ‘I’ll tie you to me.’

  She shook her head. ‘Too dangerous. I might kill us both.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Naif whispered back firmly. ‘We have to try this. Rajka’s coming back with an axe.’

  ‘Where do we go when we get into the ceiling?’ asked Markes.

  ‘What else is on this floor?’

  ‘There’s my room next door. The others on either side are empty.’

  ‘I’ve seen Mesree and Long-Li,’ said Charlonge.

  ‘Me too,’ said Markes. He pointed to the south of the building. ‘That way, I think. At least five or six rooms along.’

  ‘Once we’re up there, we must find their room. Mesree might be able to get word to Ruzalia and Long-Li,’ said Naif.

  ‘It’s a mutiny, isn’t it?’ said Charlonge. ‘And after what she’s saved them from . . .’

  ‘They don’t understand that. They know they’re going to die.’

  Noises started up again in the corridor outside.

  This time Markes acted first. He went to the desk and began to drag it across the room. ‘You’ll have to help me.’

  Naif and Charlonge got up and the three struggled to lift the desk up on top of the drawers. The chest was barely wide enough to hold it; two of the claw feet stuck partway off the wood.

  ‘It’ll topple,’ said Charlonge.

  ‘We’ll hold it while you climb,’ said Naif.

  ‘But the last person up . . .’

  ‘That’ll be me,’ promised Naif. ‘I’ll tie a sheet around my waist and throw you one end. If the table slips, you can pull me up.’

  ‘I’m not strong enough.’

  ‘There’ll be two of you. Please, Char. Please!’

  Something crashed against the door, rattling the drawers and sending a chunk of wood flying across the room.

  Naif ran to the other side of the room and grabbed the chair.

  When she returned, Markes climbed onto the drawers and then the table. Charlonge and Naif held it steady for him while he caught his balance. He reached down for the chair and placed it in the centre of the desk.

  As he climbed onto it, another loud crack sounded and the tip of an axe slammed through the wood.

  ‘Hurry!’ cried Naif.

  Markes reached for the small square hatch in the ceiling while she held the table steady.

  Naif grabbed a sheet from the bed and tied it around her waist. When that was done she nodded to the girl. ‘Your turn.’

  Charlonge collected a second chair from near the window and put it next to the drawers to help her climb onto them. When she reached the desk, she hesitated.

  ‘Char, get onto the chair and let me pull you up,’ called Markes softly. He was inside the ceiling now, lying down with his arm dangling through the hatch. ‘Come on.’

  She nodded, kneeling on the chair first before slowly getting to her feet. She and Markes linked the wrists of one arm together. He pulled her while she used the elbow of her other arm to lever up through the hatch.

  Naif fretted as she watched. It was taking too long. At any moment Rajka would knock down the door and catch her. Her mouth was dry from fear and her legs shook as she began to climb.

  When the next loud crack came, the axe head flew clear through the wood and light from the corridor spilled in.

  Naif scrambled onto the chair but she wasn’t tall enough to reach Markes’s hands. Instead she threw the untied end of the sheet up to him.

  ‘Tie it around me
,’ Naif heard him tell Charlonge. ‘Then grab me around the waist. Don’t step off the beam, though. You’ll fall through the ceiling.’

  When that was done, he looked back down at Naif. ‘Now. Hurry,’ he whispered.

  The chair stayed balanced for a moment and then as she shifted her weight, it slipped from beneath her.

  Suddenly she was dangling in the air.

  Markes gasped as her weight pulled him forward and she thought he would fall down on top of her.

  Charlonge grunted with effort, holding him back.

  He caught his balance as a final ear-splitting crack sent the lock flying across the room. The drawers and desk began to rattle. The door was being pushed inward.

  Naif stared up at Markes. His face was flushed, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

  ‘Char, help,’ he gasped.

  Naif hung helplessly as the two of them struggled to pull her upward.

  Below her, the door was nearly open wide enough for Rajka to get through. She could see his arm and foot. If he caught her hanging there, he could reach her with his axe.

  The idea of it sent more fear pumping through her. She climbed the sheet towards her friends.

  Markes bit his lip with the strain and moaned as he wrenched with all his strength. Their hands touched and slipped. Touched again. And locked.

  She struggled through the ceiling hatch as the door below thrust open far enough for a body to fit through. She glimpsed Rajka’s head and the knife in his hand. Then Markes slid the hatch back into place.

  ‘Give me the sheet,’ said Charlonge.

  Naif could barely see her or Markes in the dark. She began to move but Markes barked at her.

  ‘Stay on the beam!’

  She felt the width of the wood beneath her and steadied herself before she untied the sheet.

  ‘What do you want me to do with it?’

  ‘Fix it over the hatch. There are nails all through the ceiling. Hook it around some of them, so they can’t open it. Pass me the other end, I’ll do the same on this side.’

  Naif reached out in the dark for the sheet and her hand glanced against Markes’s shoulder.

  He gave a cry.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘M-my shoulder. I think I dislocated it,’ he gasped.

  Naif moved her hand carefully to one side to avoid touching him.

  Charlonge took the sheet from her and began to scrabble in the dust of the ceiling.

  Naif copied her until she found some nails jutting from the side of the beam. She forced the cloth onto them.

  ‘Done,’ she whispered.

  ‘Now we find Mesree,’ said Charlonge. ‘I’ll go first. Markes, can you crawl?’

  Naif was relieved to hear her voice sound steady, as though some of her fear and shock had abated.

  Next to her, Markes sucked in a deep breath. ‘I think so. But I won’t be able to climb.’

  ‘You got us up here,’ Charlonge said to him quietly. ‘We’ll get you down.’

  They moved painstakingly along the thickest beam. Charlonge, in the lead, counted off the rooms using the crossbeams as her guide. Muffled cries and the sound of slamming doors below dogged their progress. Rajka was searching for them. Naif could hear his angry shouts to his friends.

  ‘It should be near here,’ Charlonge said.

  Naif’s knees were scraped raw but she was more worried about Markes. Every movement caused him to shudder or give an involuntary cry. ‘Where’s the hatch?’ she asked, desperate to get him out of the filthy, dark ceiling space.

  Charlonge felt around carefully. ‘Ugh. What’s this?’

  She held up an object that Naif couldn’t see properly.

  ‘It’s a dead rat,’ rasped Markes.

  Charlonge bit off a scream and Naif heard a clunk as the rat hit a joist.

  ‘Let me look,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s on the other side.’

  After long moments of running her fingers through the layers of dirt, she touched a seam. She traced the outline and found it to be reasonably square. ‘This is it.’ Leaning sideways, she grasped the edges with her fingertips. It came loose with a begrudging crack, and light flooded into their crawl space.

  Naif peered down. ‘It’s Mesree and Long-Li’s room. I can see her apron on the bed. She’s not there, though.’

  ‘Probably gone to see what the noise was,’ said Charlonge.

  Getting down was easier than climbing up, though Charlonge twisted her ankle as she dropped the distance to the floor. Wincing slightly, she got up and helped Naif push the bed directly underneath.

  As Markes lowered himself, holding on only with his good arm, the door was flung open and Mesree stormed in brandishing a huge carving knife. ‘What in the frossin’ sea eels –’

  Naif and Charlonge froze but Markes’s arm gave way and he crashed heavily onto the bed. He gave a loud cry and then went silent.

  ‘Mesree,’ said Naif, spilling the words out quickly. ‘Rajka came for us with knives. We escaped through the ceiling. Markes hurt his shoulder pulling us up.’

  The cook locked the door, then barged past her and Charlonge and over to Markes. He moaned as she rolled him onto his back.

  She leaned close, listening to his breathing, touching his brow, watching his chest. ‘It’s just a faint,’ she pronounced, ‘brought on by the pain. I’m goin’ to fix his shoulder now before he comes out of it. Hurry and lift him.’

  Under her instruction they laid Markes out straight on the floor.

  ‘Now get behind him, both of you. Sit him up.’

  Markes was coming to, moaning to himself. Every sound made Naif wince.

  ‘Brace and stay still as you can. Understand? You move, and I’ll have to go again. Each time the damage is worse, and so is the pain,’ said Mesree.

  She forced Markes’s lips apart and stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth.

  Charlonge put her arm around Naif, and Naif reciprocated so that they held Markes in their wide embrace.

  Then Mesree loomed up at them and smacked Markes in the shoulder with her full force.

  Naif and Charlonge rocked at the impact but pushed back against her.

  There was a click as his shoulder slipped back into place. He opened his eyes, spat out the cloth and sobbed, then fell limp in their arms.

  Mesree wiped her brow and panted. ‘There, that’s done. It’ll be sore for a while. I’ll find something for the hurt while you two go and wash up.’ Naif followed Charlonge into the tiny separate washroom. While Char doused herself with water, she peered back through the door at the cook.

  Mesree rifled through the drawers of her night stand until she withdrew a small box containing a bundle of dried leaves. She broke one from the rest and then closed the box. Crumbling the leaf in her fingers, she returned to where Markes lay and slipped the pieces into his mouth, rubbing them around his gums with her finger.

  ‘Ugh, I can still feel the rat,’ Charlonge said, as she soaped her bleeding hands. ‘Naif?’

  Naif moved hastily to the basin and washed her hands and grazed knees on a cloth.

  Soon the pair were back in the room, hovering over Markes. He seemed to be asleep now, his breathing deep and regular.

  ‘Leave him be. He’s too big to get up onto the bed. Sleep will help him recover now,’ said Mesree.

  ‘You drugged him,’ said Naif.

  ‘I’ve made the pain go. Isn’t that what you wanted?’

  Naif glanced at the door. ‘But what if Rajka comes here? We won’t be able to move him.’

  ‘That poisonous strip of worthlessness won’t be troublin’ me.’ She picked up a large carving knife from the desk. ‘And if he thinks to try his tricks on . . .’

  ‘But it’s not just him.’

  Mesree’s deep-set eyes narrowed so much Naif could hardly see them. ‘I’ve sent word to Ruzalia and Long-Li on a draculin.’

  ‘A draculin!’ Naif exclaimed.

  ‘They make fine message carriers if you feed them good raw
meat. We just need to sit tight now till they return and do for these mutineers.’

  ‘How long will that be?’ asked Naif.

  ‘Hard to be exact. Hours, dependin’ on the winds.’

  ‘But they’ll find us in here before then.’

  ‘That’s why we won’t stay. Before light we go to the caves. Stay there until Ruze’s back. Now, you tell me why you think that waste of spit, Rajka, came after you.’

  ‘They think we’re one of you,’ said Charlonge.

  Mesree scowled as Naif explained more. ‘That’s why he drew a knife on Markes in the hall. They believe we’re important to Ruzalia and plan to hold us as ransom to get what they want.’

  The cook’s expression became quizzical. ‘And why would they be thinkin’ you’re special?’

  ‘Because we’re staying in the south wing, not the north, like everyone else. And because . . . Ruzalia talked to me.’

  ‘You’re speaking nonsense there. Ruze confides in no one. Not even my man Long-Li.’

  Naif hunched defensively. ‘I didn’t say she confided.’

  Mesree stared at her and then nodded as if coming to some silent conclusion. ‘The reason don’t really matter, I s’pose. I’ve seen you wittering in her ear on occasions. Now, you two get on the bed and rest. Soon as he’s awake, we’ll head to the caves.’

  Naif realised how tired she was. She nodded and without protest went over to the bed and sank down onto the mattress. It was sprinkled with plaster from the ceiling but she barely noticed. All she registered was that Charlonge’s weight was next to hers, her back resting against her own. She’d never slept so close to another person before, she thought vaguely as she drifted. It was comforting.

  Mesree woke her too soon. Or at least it felt as if she’d barely been asleep. Charlonge was already awake, kneeling next to Markes, who sat propped against one leg of Mesree’s bed. He looked pale but otherwise hearty. His face and hands were clean.

  Naif felt a stab of jealousy that someone else had tended him even though it would have embarrassed her to do so.

  ‘It’s quietened down out there. Eat this, so we can move,’ said Mesree. She handed Naif some cheese and some small biscuits. ‘Just as well I brought supper to bed with me.’