The Modern World

by Steph Swainston

  I said, ‘If San wants us to know, he’ll tell us. But the Insects are a more pressing consideration.’

  ‘You know what your problem is?’ asked Tornado.

  ‘No. But I know what you think my problem is.’

  The veins stood out on his bull neck. ‘Oh, I’m sick of your smartarse comments, you flying streak of piss! Why don’t you step outside?’

  I bridled. ‘Gladly!’

  Lightning said, ‘Jant, wait until the Circle’s disbanded before starting a new career as a quintain for Tornado.’

  ‘If we don’t know what will happen,’ I repeated, ‘it’s sensible not to waste time arguing about it but continue with our plans.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ Frost’s crackly, desiccated voice came from the direction of her camp bed. My outburst had woken her and she lay propped on one elbow watching us. She said, ‘I will use science to fix the problem that science has caused.’

  She reclaimed the reeking coffee pot from her desk, poured herself a cup and scooped powdered milk into it. ‘Only scummy powder left, damn it … Can’t Snow stop that hammering?’

  Her voice was faint, as if coming from kilometres away. She rubbed a bloodshot eye and watched wrinkled skin forming on the surface of her coffee. She appeared less like herself and more like an actress adept at pretending to be Frost. She was like a deserted mill relentlessly grinding grain because its mechanism can do nothing else, although nobody is inside to tend it.

  She fingered a raisin out of the pile on her desk and ate it. Then she returned to her calculations.

  ‘Now, as to the Imperial Fyrd,’ said Lightning. ‘I don’t trust them if things get tough –’

  ‘Dad …’ Cyan interrupted. She was bored to be stranded here, while her father talked with his workmates above her head. The fact she was a minor, helpless in front of the world’s best warriors, embarrassed her even more.

  ‘Dad.’

  ‘Eszai should provide San’s bodyguard instead –’

  ‘Dad …’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said Tornado.

  ‘Why not me?’ said Wrenn.

  ‘Because I’m the strongest. Officially, like.’

  ‘Da-aad.’

  ‘What?’ said Lightning.

  ‘Nothing. Can I go to the tavern?’

  ‘No. Stay here where I can see you, young lady.’

  ‘I have enough money.’

  ‘I know you have. But there is nothing left in the tavern to buy.’

  ‘I’m going, so tough!’

  Tornado said, ‘Lightning, will you keep your daughter under control?’

  ‘Oh, she won’t be any trouble.’ He gave her such a warm, conspiratorial smile that it made the whole place seem homely; for a second it shrank the room, but she did not return it. ‘Come sit down by me,’ he added.

  Cyan scudded over and slumped onto the bench. She said, ‘You’re all scared, aren’t you? You are, you’re all terrified, you just don’t want to admit it.’

  ‘Hush,’ said Lightning. ‘We must simply let San see the overall strategy. He will direct us.’

  ‘God might,’ said Tornado.

  I pushed the heels of my hands into my closed eyes until grey-green patterns kaleidoscoped. I had only been back on the ground for two hours and I was on edge already.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Wrenn asked me.

  ‘Hmm? Yes. All it is, is … I’ve been on drugs for a very long time and now I’m not and I’m finding it a bit difficult, that’s all. Especially at night …’

  Wrenn looked as if he was going to make a remark, but decided against it. Stranded on the other side of the age gulf, all he could do was start pacing again. The lanterns were flickering outside in the square and darkness was trailing in, with the sound of the innkeeper’s baby crying. ‘You know,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t be so terrible if civilian women and children weren’t trapped here too.’

  Tornado stood up. ‘Can you hear the watchman’s bell? Someone’s at the gates.’

  ‘It’s probably god!’ I glared.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said casually. ‘Only god can stop your nonsense.’

  Lightning said, ‘It must be another fyrd troop.’

  A minute later the watchman sent a runner in, who stood open-mouthed until I beckoned him to the table. I recognised him as one of the Castle’s servants; I know them all by name. ‘Yes, Eider; what is it?’

  ‘Carniss manor has arrived, Messenger. We opened the gates because Insects were harrying them – they’ve been fighting off Insects all the way from the mountains. The governor says he’s recruited everybody he can; he has a whole battalion but they lost most of their mules. He requests orders to billet his men.’

  Lightning said to me, ‘I’ll greet Carniss. I expect that manor holds unpleasant memories for you.’

  ‘More likely those bastards will be uneasy taking orders from a Rhydanne.’

  ‘Do they only have one battalion?’ Wrenn asked. ‘Well, I suppose every little helps.’

  Lightning picked his coat off the back of the chair, thrust one arm into it and felt about for the other. He said, ‘Carniss may be a small manor but their archers are superb marksmen. They earn their living hunting.’

  I glanced at the ceiling. ‘They’re bastards to a man.’

  ‘Jant, I know you don’t like Carniss, but we’re very crowded and strained here, so don’t sow discord. Even their General Fyrd bring their own fine bows. We can give them horses; I know they fight better as skirmishers than in formation.’

  Frost added, ‘They have excellent master miners too, from the silver mines. They’re tough and they work hard.’

  Tornado nodded. ‘I like Carniss. They have a decent attitude for featherbacks; they’re very down-to-earth. Frontiersmen make good garrisons. They’re used to danger, so they stay alert and observant, which is more than you can say for the city fyrds.’

  I said, ‘They’re a lot of grubby unmanageable trappers who take deep revenge for slight offences.’

  Cyan said, ‘Cool. Can I come and see them?’

  ‘No,’ Lightning told her. ‘Stay here. Jant, would you look after … No, don’t give her the wine! Bloody stop drinking! And, Wrenn, can you … Oh, forget it. I can’t believe what’s happening to the Circle these days!’ Lightning swung his quiver on his shoulder and stormed out after the servant.

  Cyan looked up at me. ‘I want to watch Governor Carniss’s men come in.’

  Wrenn said, ‘Let’s go, then.’

  She glowered at him. ‘Not with you! And don’t look at me like that!’

  ‘I wasn’t looking at you like anything.’

  ‘You’ve been staring at my tits all night, you syphilitic Miroir bog-trotter!’

  Wrenn’s face split in a grin. ‘Well, they are nice tits. You must be very sporty. I’ve heard you can shoot straight.’

  ‘Now you’re leering!’

  ‘I’m not leering. I’m smiling. Don’t you want a smile from the world’s best swordsman?’

  ‘The only weapon you handle is your own dick … mangy wanker.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s feeling the fun of the day,’ Wrenn said to me.

  She stuck her nose in the air. ‘No, because a short-arsed whore-monger keeps asking if I want to see his sword.’

  ‘Come on, Cyan,’ I said hastily.

  Sheets of rain hissed down on us as we walked out to the gate. I cupped my tall wing around her to give her some shelter and I felt her warmth. We stood in the archway under the lanterns and watched a line of horses moving above their amorphous rain-pocked reflections. The men’s heads bowed, greasy rivulets ran down their waxed cotton hoods and tent-like cloaks they had stretched over their saddles. Bow cases projected from bundles and panniers on their cruppers. The nearest horse’s ankle flexed, its unshod hoof splashed down shattering the reflection.

  Most men were on foot, carrying spears over their shoulders. They walked past wearily, in a worn and handed-down, or looted, assortment of armour; threadbare b
rigandines with steel scales showing through the rents. Their cuirasses were flecked orange with recent rust, fur scarves tucked into their metal necklines. Mud had rubbed up their boots between their legs to the thighs.

  Their standard bearer dipped the Carniss crescent flag under the archway as he passed us. I thought the outpost’s association with the rest of the kingdom was a thin veneer; the slightest battle tension scratched it and showed their harsh settlers’ identity. Their greatest loyalty was to each other.

  Cyan breathed, ‘Wow. I haven’t seen anything like this before. Awndyn fyrd never go anywhere.’

  ‘Wait till the Eske heavy cavalry turn up. Then you’ll have something to stare at. See the man who looks like his mare? That’s Governor Veery Carniss.’

  Veery was dismounting to greet Lightning. His teeth were so horsey his voice whinnied. His ears were like bracket fungus and, though he frowned, a duelling scar lifted one corner of his mouth, permanently changing his expression for the better.

  Cyan said, ‘Oh no, look at Daddy being bloody effusive.’

  I wondered what to say to her. I wanted her to stop making Lightning’s life so difficult, but on the other hand I didn’t want her to end up stuck in a palace all her life, even more jaded than she already was.

  I said, ‘Lightning’s torn between his duty to the Emperor and to you. Ten years ago he put his love for you first and it cost him severely. I know in the past he hasn’t given you the attention you deserve. But he’s incredibly busy now and your attention-seeking is distracting him. Have you told him about your brush with jook?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, Rayne knows. If you took it again, she would definitely tell him.’

  ‘God, no. I don’t want to see those things again.’

  ‘The Gabbleratchet?’

  Cyan shot me a look. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘I was there.’

  ‘It was just a dream. It wasn’t real.’

  ‘Oh, the Shift is real, all right. San ordered me to keep it secret from Zascai. I suppose he doesn’t want mortals trying to reach it and dying in the process.’

  Her quick temper ignited. ‘You pansy boy! That’s bullshit – all bullshit!’

  ‘I was there, Cyan.’

  ‘As a trick of my imagination!’

  ‘The Gabbleratchet is not a trick of your imagination.’

  ‘Gabbleratchet.’ She rolled the name over her tongue and scowled. ‘I once longed to fly like you can. I used to dream of the smell of clouds and the thin air, the way you smell. Now I have nightmares of rotting hounds. I woke up screaming last night. Daddy wanted to know what was the matter, but I told him that being lost in Hacilith had frightened me. You’re not joking, are you?’

  ‘No. There are more worlds than we visited but the distance to Shift would kill us. The Insects’ own domain cuts through thousands of worlds; I meant it when I said they make us look inferior.’

  ‘God might be in the Shift.’

  I laughed. ‘Oh, don’t you start.’

  ‘God is on a break. Why not in the Shift?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said sarcastically. ‘San keeps it prisoner in Epsilon and feeds it chocolate biscuits.’

  ‘Are you the only person to know?’

  ‘No. Rayne has also been to Vista, when she was your age …’

  ‘What a scary thought.’

  ‘Yes. She was young once … so she says. Your father has seen a Shift creature but he wouldn’t discuss it with me afterwards. He won’t say a word about the Insect bridge too, even though he burned it down. It’s too weird for him.’

  ‘Typical of Daddy to ignore an adventure so important!’

  ‘He’s denied it, filed it away in the same part of his mind that he’d use if you told him you’d taken jook. He treats me with a bit more suspicion, though; as if I’m having a disordering effect on the world.’

  ‘I think he blames me for a sea change too,’ Cyan said. ‘But if he can’t deal with it, it isn’t my fault.’

  ‘Maybe in twenty years I’ll drop the Shift into the conversation and see if he responds.’

  The Carniss troops filed in past us. Those on horseback were mainly women, with crossbows slung on both sides of their saddles – two crossbows, to work in duo with their reloaders. They were pulling bolts from bandoliers around their bodies and slipping them point first into the depleted racks attached upright on their saddlebows.

  The crossbow bolts’ points gleamed – hard steel moulded to soft iron sockets, which cushion the shaft so it doesn’t split on impact with Insect shell but drives straight through.

  Cyan stared at the division captain, who wore a rain-darkened leather apron over her lap on which a hook from her pulley belt rested. She had been spanning her crossbow in the skirmishes. Insect mandibles had slashed her boots and the metal toecaps shone brightly through the cut leather. Her sallet helmet was not as shiny; it had a golden-brown patina from being polished with sheep fat every night.

  She bowed her head to me as she passed. She trailed a leash from the saddle, attached to the muzzle of the division’s mascot. It padded beside her on big paws like snowshoes, pasted with mud. Its deep, pure white fur was flattened by the rain, but its galena-grey eyes were keen.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Cyan.

  ‘A Darkling white wolf.’

  Wrenn appeared beside us. ‘Don’t mind me standing here?’ he asked, risking death by dirty look from Cyan. ‘The others, they … Well, I just feel better to be around you two.’

  I understood. He’s only thirty, and the average age of our colleagues in the hall was about eight hundred.

  ‘It’s good to see Veery again now I’m Eszai,’ he said. ‘I gave him that scar but he seems OK about it.’

  ‘After all, you did turn out to be Eszai-good,’ I said.

  He hopped from foot to foot. ‘The Emperor, coming here! We’re in for it, aren’t we?’

  I nodded. We stood there for a while, watching the seemingly endless procession. Sporadic hammering still echoed in the background; rain drove through the spotlights around the palisade. The carpenters, proficient Peregrine shipbuilders drafted to the fyrd, were continuing through the night.

  Eventually Cyan said, ‘That captain was a woman.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Not much older than me.’

  ‘That’s right. Come inside.’

  ‘I want to watch.’ She stood, stubbornly, and descended into her thoughts again.

  I drew my wing closer around her. I don’t know about her, or Wrenn, but I wished I was a very, very long way from here, sitting in a bar.

  OUR BRAVE BOYS ARRIVE SAFELY

  The Hacilith General Fyrd began arriving at Slake Cross today. The pals from Galt and Old Town marched in with a smart step and big smiles, after 900 km by cart. The Captain of the Ninth Division, Connel, 22, said, ‘We’re raring to have a go at these flying bugs. The people have been great as we came through Awia. The Awians have a spotless record, but now the Hacilith lads are here those bugs haven’t got a chance.’

  They are the best that Morenzia has, strong, keen and selfless. We wish them the best!

  Smatchet, with the troops at Slake Cross fort

  Hacilith Post 27.05.25

  CHAPTER 16

  Lightning reluctantly agreed to let Cyan leave town. Since I was welcoming the governors and wardens while Lightning was holding Insects off from attacking the arriving troops, he asked me to look after her. I took her to the armoury and got her kitted up.

  ‘Here’s a brigandine jacket.’ I passed it to her and she let it drop dramatically almost to the floor. ‘It’s heavy!’

  I helped her buckle it on. ‘It fits very well, though. Here are some greaves for your legs, made for a woman about your size.’ I showed her how to fasten them. Even if she was strong enough, I thought it too risky to give her plate armour made for another person, which wouldn’t fit properly or might have unseen deterioration. The fyrd who wear the mass-produced stuff th
at comes in three sizes only do so because they can’t afford better. I found her an open-faced sallet helmet with a tapered tail to protect the nape of her neck.

  Then we went to the stables but Cyan didn’t want to go in. ‘I don’t know …’ she said. ‘Since the … since the Gabbleratchet … I don’t really like horses.’

  It took me half an hour to convince her to enter the stables and she walked close behind me holding my hand. We passed the stalls of a hundred other mounts until I found her an exceptional piebald palfrey that in no way resembled the horses of the Gabbleratchet.

  Cyan examined its hooves uncertainly. She still needed some coaxing. ‘The eternal hunt won’t come here,’ I said. ‘The Shift is so big that the chances of it reaching our world are minute. To be honest I’ve always got the impression we’re a bit of a backwater. Besides, those things weren’t horses. You know that, Cyan; you’ve been riding since you could walk.’

  ‘I couldn’t control that black horse. It was the only time I’ve never been able to manage one.’

  ‘Because it wasn’t one. The Gabbleratchet is just itself. It’s inexplicable but we left it behind.’

  The stable boy brought me my sleek racehorse. Pangare butted her buff, suedy muzzle into my hands and shook her head, flopping the neat knots of her short, hogged mane from side to side.

  ‘What a peculiar animal,’ Cyan said. ‘I didn’t know you had a horse.’

  ‘Well, now you do.’ I held Pangare’s halter. ‘These Ghallain duns have unbelievable stamina. She might not be a thoroughbred but she can outlast anything your Awian stables have to offer.’

  It always takes me a long time to find a mount who can both tolerate carrying a Rhydanne and is fast enough for me. I had heard of Pangare, a seventeen hands high courser winning every race on the Ghallain pampas, and she had cost the Castle a fortune.

  While the boy fitted Pangare’s bridle and buckled the wide strap of the saddle under her taut belly, I corded my satchel to the cantle through rough-cut holes and clipped my crossbow to it. ‘Come on, then.’

  Cyan swung up into her saddle, ducking under the beams. ‘I’m brave, aren’t I? I got back on.’