‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ He smiled charmingly at her, the room darker now and the sense of their isolation almost complete. He opened a high pocket inside his jacket and drew out – her goggles.
‘Ahh,’ she said with delighted surprise, taking them from him and checking if they worked.
‘Isabeau was most insistent that I give them to you personally.’
Tralane put them on and cued the message she saw waiting. When she had read it, her smile had gone, though it tried to come back as she glanced at him through the strange lenses and saw his expression.
‘Very adventuresome,’ he said, meaning how they looked.
‘You have no idea,’ she said and took them off her head, and then put them on to his head, adjusting the eyepieces to the right places. ‘Stand here and look up where the arrows want to lead you.’
She watched his head swing through the arc until she knew that he was looking at what she had just looked at, through iron and steel, through miles of sky, through clouds and rain and whatever in between to a star that was not a star over them in the sky. ‘I’ll translate for you. That object is like a magestone, high up above the world. These symbols running around it are the stone talking. It is talking to the ship that we are standing in. The ship has been talking to it ever since we put the power on. And these other symbols to the left, floating, the ones that change, that look like old character writing, those are a message that the stone is sending down here.’
‘Who from?’ He put his hand to the lenses, as if he could help things resolve for him, though she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Isabeau hadn’t read it. He couldn’t read it, but she could.
‘It’s from whoever picked up the signal,’ she said. ‘They say they have received our distress signal and they are on their way.’
He tore the goggles off his head, rounding on her so fast she took a step back. ‘It what?!’
She took them back carefully and glanced again though she needn’t have. She would never forget what it said. ‘It says they’re coming.’
She watched as he looked at her, incredulous, wondering if he were able to believe her or not. From trouble in a land war where the sky was only sky it was a long leap out into the edge of the world and beyond. Muscles in his face worked several times as if he’d speak. Finally, acceptance smoothed the deep lines out of his forehead and his wry, self-mocking grin returned. His eyes bore the deep, dark fire of passionate interest that sprung from the soul – like her, he could not resist the mystery, the scale, the romance, the danger. ‘Is this one of those glorious angels you were telling me about?’
‘The bolts from the blue, forces of nature, that kick you sideways out of all your best laid plans? Yes.’ She couldn’t help but smile in return, glad of it in this private moment they shared, before anyone else knew and took away all the decisions about what must be done.
He nodded and handed the goggles back to her before embracing her tightly and holding her there.
He hesitated. ‘Does it say anything about when they will arrive?’
‘No, but supposing the signal travels at the speed of aether consistently and taking the start point here as the power-up time, assuming a small delay for receipt and composition of a reply, I still have no idea because we know nothing about the propulsion engines. If the schematics here are correct those parts of this machine have never been found. I could extrapolate from the systems that power the city but there’s no telling if that would be appropriate. All I can say is that wherever “they” are, aetheric signals take approximately two days to get there and two days to get back.’
‘There’s nothing to stop us talking to them more?’
‘Theoretically, no. Politically, I would think this is Infomancy work. But Isabeau mentioned that she thinks Torada is truly rogue and yet the Karoo seem to speak with her and prepare to negotiate. But that, fortunately, is no concern of mine.’ She caressed his face, finding it dear to her, the impossible smile that found humour in the situation still there.
‘I fear my concerns are only beginning,’ he said.
‘Let’s delay them a little while longer.’ She unfastened the front of the thin jacket he wore, knowing he was right. ‘They won’t send anyone to look for us if you play your cards right, will they?’
He pretended to frown and shook his head. ‘No, no. It is my duty to be sure everything is secured and it is no lie that there is so very much to see here before that can be determined.’
He unmeshed the front of her overalls. ‘I am ashamed to admit I find these hideous clothes unbearably attractive on you.’
‘You know I’m only using you for your body. I know the Infomancy sent you to spy on me don’t forget, Agent Mazhd.’ She stepped out of them and rid herself of her underwear.
‘Recent developments have rendered you of insufficient interest to be a candidate for seduction and infiltration, Professor. I’m sorry to inform you that my interest is purely personal from here on in.’
She put her arms around him and took a deep breath close to his skin. He smelled glorious, divine. ‘My interest is purely professional. You have all my notes.’
‘The beauty of it is you’ll never know exactly what I have. Nor will anyone else. I fear you have put me in a compromising position – as a pair we have exclusive power, alone nothing.’
‘What do you propose we do about that?’
‘I’m open to a deal.’
They negotiated the deal on the cold, angled floor among their discarded clothes. Afterwards she lay and looked through the goggles as he rested with his head on her shoulder, legs entwined, inside the starship that lay buried in the mud.
‘Do you suppose anyone wants to hear a theory about how we were created by a dead Master Magus who got all his spells mixed up?’ Tralane asked. The signals fluttered steadily, repeating, from shore to star to shore.
‘Oh no, I don’t think anybody wants to hear that,’ Zharazin said.
‘Time to go before we’re missed.’ Tralane stood and offered him her hand. ‘What will you say?’
‘I’ll tell the truth, that the stars are coming to see what they have made.’
They got up and dressed themselves again, then she led the way back to the surface.
POSTSCRIPT
Greetings Prime Node Mazhd from Living Memory #51
Access Path Whitebirch, authorisation nodes 1,2
Diary Pages: Huntingore, Isabeau.
1. Vexation. Another thing I don’t get – why are the humans outside the Empire so very different? Saying they’re badly educated and don’t eat well doesn’t cut it. Lots of people here are poor, stupid and addicted to all kinds of crap but they still manage magic, even if it’s only working the elevators and summoning the mail. Nobody outside does those things. And even if we’re not using this power to take everything while they get nothing, even if we’re just sitting here, trading and setting a ‘beneficent hegemonic example’ I don’t think any of them feel it inspiring. They just think we’re frightening, and weird, and they probably hate us. I would.
2. Sister Auchie was explaining ‘the birds and the bees’, as if we all don’t know everything already – but afterward she said that not every City in the Empire is like ours and they see us as rebellious and ‘ill considered’ because our Empress rules with ‘velvet gloves’. They did not say what the other Empresses ruled with, although an iron fist was mentioned, and a Sleight Hand.
3. The velvet gloves, whatever they are, seem to be bad because they are somehow obvious and unsophisticated, manipulative and indirect, whereas much more respect is accorded to an Empress like Dirt who has a Work Ethic and Rules with a system based on cultivation and communal labour. When I asked what kind of gloves Dirt wore Sister Auchie looked at me as if I was stupid and then said, ‘I suppose they’re work gloves, dear.’ Genius.
4. So, it seems that it’s considered better to be ruled through exhausting yourself industriously than to be ruled by being p
etted nicely with a soft glove. I fail to see the link. Especially after today’s work in the lab grinding samples. Given the choice I would rather the latter, unless the former benefited me enormously, but then I wouldn’t need gloves at all, would I?
5. The Sorority line on why our Empress is weaker than the others goes something like this. Reason 1: women are the natural rulers of men because they bear the children and all the responsibility, therefore they must also have the power and authority. Our Empress has no children so far, so she is too ignorant.
6. Reason 2 : Men’s natures make them territorial, possessive, argumentative, violent and antisocial. They can be used successfully for military power and for labour, and must be kept occupied each within his own field, in order to maintain a discipline among them and to turn their inclinations into mild and profitable enterprises. Our Empress does not keep discipline; here they do as they like. Ergo, her men are running wild and some kind of disaster is implied.
7. Reason 3: Men must be ordered by natural qualities preferentially, before being considered as potential fathers of one’s children or indeed any children. Men of unsuitable temper and type must be prevented from reproducing. Our Empress has no visible selection methodology and does not matchmake. She risks dissolving the bloodlines and ruining the talents. Apparently.
8. If one remains in the Sorority one must produce a worthwhile thesis on the subject of motherhood before progressing to the act accordingly. Meantime one might dally as one likes with whatever men, women or whoever the Sorority deem socially appropriate. Have seen list. Ick. Gloom.
8.5. Our Empress’ aptitude dictates much for us in Glimshard: harmonious companionship. There is an adequate and variable supply of every kind of person. Yet the Sorority considers it second class for our Empress to exert her authority via pleasing men, even if this is a by-product of pleasing women. Nobody can speak directly about this. When I ask about it I’m told to stop wittering about matters I’m too young to understand. It is understood that men are not to be gratified as if this is not a viable route to power. Instead they are to be kept in a state of instability through partial gratification. As this has proven time and again to foment both addiction and resentment it cannot be sensible to pursue it yet that is exactly what the Sorority suggests as its best course. What is wrong with these people? (Note, since they are so keen to shut me up clearly there is more to be got out of this. A flick through the Spire Court Proceedings of the last five years reveals increasing numbers of violent crimes against persons and their chattels within the city. Austerity has been imposed at higher levels in response. Crimes of Indiscipline have altered away from persons and into group-based aggressions since.) An outlet for aggression is clearly required.
9. Boring lesson on gender. The Sorority consider the eight existing pronouns in Glimshard Imperial make language matters too awkward and our poetry despicable, want to return to the Spire form of just three. ‘Why must one constantly advertise one’s preferences if one is only asking for the price of fruit?’ An oddly chosen example given a previous lesson on metaphor. I am beginning to suspect Sister Auchie of having a sense of humour at times. Or perhaps no sense of irony.
10. I decided to ask what considerations the Sorority recommended for locating a mate, if we were to do away with the pronouns. Sister Auchie said it must be first the good health, then the Talent combination and its possible outcomes, after that the looks of the male (she assumed breeding-mate you see as I did not use the correct pronoun to indicate a loving partner of any suited gender), for beauty generally indicates a strong and robust constitution, after that his friends, since he may be judged well by those whose company he seeks and maintains: after that his character and after that his charisma and latent ‘appeal’. His gender only has bearing insofar as it may or may not impede said breeding. I said, fine, that covers Empire men. What about the rest? She looked blank. Finally she said, ‘One does not breed outside the Empire. What would be the point?’
11. It occurs to me that the Sorority has entirely missed the point sociologically. Surely the point is desire, which is the only impulse one does anything for? A walk behind my sister (a block behind, but she’s easy to follow as she never pays any attention to anyone except herself) puts a spanner in the cogs of the very notion that the desire for sex has its point anywhere near the Sorority Rulebook. There are enough foreigners from the barracks creeping back in the early hours after midnight to prove that. I don’t think everyone is filling out forms and pursuing a rigorous algorithm of selection – unless they are doing that unconsciously, of course. If so, it is not an algorithm that the Sorority has heard of. An algorithm for desire would be so very useful! Although I might have to expand on the notation re the genders issue. I will ask Sister Auchie why it is that the inbuilt process for selection of mates is insufficient and they have attempted to impose another.
11.5. Cross. Idea of Algorithm of Desire met with derision. Auchie mentioned Night’s Student, called him a halfbreed bloodmancing monstrosity and made the sign of Annasward though there were no trace presences about. She said he would know it if noses could talk. I don’t know what she means by that but her expression indicated she was having some kind of intestinal problem so I didn’t ask.
12. I find most of the Sorority’s statements outside the rigors of mathematics to be vague and highly scientifically unsatisfactory. It is not what I expected when I first came to learn here although once they have alchemical science in their sights they are without peer. But when I pursued Sister Auchie about these ‘rules of social and political conduct’ and how they came to be she said only that they were agreed by the original collective which had taken root in Spire a century ago. These tenets were now considered canonical. I suggested they were in need of revision, scientifically, but she said that tradition was more important than factual correctness as human social mores derive their strength and usefulness from collective conscious concurrence, which is what elevates us above creatures like the Karoo.
Speechless.
13. For the Canon and the attendant nonsense the Sorority clings to in the mistaken belief that such stuff is the glue of civilisation I award a further demerit to an already dispiriting list. Their application to the biological and social sciences is nearly entirely reliant on subjective opinion. I am taking all information set out on these subjects with a large pinch of salt and have moved my files on them into the ‘Reservations’ section of my studies. Nonetheless I must remain here until I complete the entirety of their physics and astrology teachings though I fear their lens on history will be somewhat fish-eyed to say the least. Gloom. NB It appears my mother has discovered a gun. Checked it this evening with Minna when she was out. I wonder what else is in the attic.
*
Do you require further memories, Prime?
Thank you for sharing your memory of reviewing this material. A cache of your subjective state appreciation of this material has been remembered for you. Would you like to re-interpret any of your previous readings?
Would you like to send any memories to the Angel Node?
Would you like to grant access to the Infomancy’s Memory to the Angel Node?
Would you like to access the memory of the Angel Node?
Please respond, Prime.
Thank you, Prime. Here are the last memories of Shrazade, Prime Node of Glimshard.
*
Mind Poison, Mazhd? Really? After all this time I thought we were friends. Like friends. Something like that. Was it the Diary? You saw it too. Of course you did. It’s because of that thing you wouldn’t show me. That thing about Night. You can’t hide what you know but you could hide what you didn’t know. And you do the same with the Huntingore woman. It is futile.
When did you discover Angel Node? Was it before the jungle? No, it must have been after. It must have been inside the ship. You could read some of the ship memory, because everyone was there and there was blood e
verywhere. I couldn’t stop her sending you. Yes, Night, of course. She knew you would always belong to her as I have always belonged to the Empire.
It wasn’t easy to keep Angel Node a secret. Will you keep it a secret? I’m sad that I will not see its arrival. I did not dare to look and see what it knew. Will you dare that? Will you do it straight away, or will you wait? Will you tell them, or will you see what the information can do for you? Don’t hold it too long, Mazhd. Like me, it has an expiration date.
‘Much will be asked of you.’
Ah, I see it was asked of you. And you have not disappointed them. Or me. You were a good student.
Hold my hands. I’d hoped for better. I wanted to know so much… goodbye. Ah I thought it would be so different… diffe… d
*
Would you like to keep the memory of your visit to that memory as an official record, Prime?
As you wish.
Also by Justina Robson from Gollancz:
Keeping It Real
Selling Out
Going Under
Chasing the Dragon
Down to the Bone
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Justina Robson 2015
All rights reserved.
The right of Justina Robson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2015 by Gollancz.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 0 575 13404 1
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Glorious Angels Page 50
