by Eyal Kless
Unless you have top-of-the-line Tarakan augs planted in your skull. “Let me guess: the woman took the locator,” I said.
Puorpan shook his head. “No. I destroyed the locator after Vincha left. Used it for parts. I said that to the woman and it took her a while to believe me.” Puorpan stroked his right arm gently.
“So the woman left without the locator,” I said. This was a piece of good news, but my hopes were dashed as Puorpan shook his head again.
“She made me turn on the code encryption machine. I mean, I bought it from the Gadgetier, I know how to place the disc and push the buttons but I ain’t knowing how it really works, but that woman did. She did something to it, somehow got the code, and made me pair another locator to it.”
“Rust,” I swore, “can you—”
“No.” Puorpan lifted a black, round machine that was obviously in pieces. “That rust of a woman broke the machine with her sword, she did, and then she left and I was just glad it was over.” Pourpan visibly shuddered. “Please tell Vincha I am sorry. We go back a little, and she helped out when I got into a bit of a mess, if you know what I mean, but you polish your own metal first.”
This was a dead end. Vincha would not tell anyone where she was hiding her daughter, not even Puorpan.
“I need to warn Vincha,” I finally said. “Do you know where I can find her?”
Puorpan was beginning to shake his head, so I added, “I know Vincha never stays in one place for long, but she trusted you before, surely there must be a way to leave her a message. Her daughter’s life is in danger.”
Puorpan looked up at me, scratching his chin. “Well, there is one place that she mentioned in passing.”
Chapter 46
Peach
A Peach. I would give so much to have one right now. To smell it, to bite into it, to fill my mouth and savour the sweet taste. My kingdom for a peach. Why has this damned new world held on to war and violence and greed, but lost its peaches?
“Lady . . .”
I turned my head and forced myself not to tense up. My sight was still blurry but the tone of the voice was cowed and frightened, not menacing.
“Do you happen to have a peach?” I asked, squinting to steady my gaze.
The look in his eyes was so pathetic I had to stop myself from laughing.
“A what?”
“Never mind.” I pressed my thumb on the power button and sheathed my power sword. Poor Puorpan did a good job fixing that button.
“It’s just that the ShieldGuards will be here soon.” The proprietor of the Seven Swans looked at the multitude of bodies around us, his mind still disbelieving what his eyes were seeing. “And I think one got away. I saw him jump through the window, so even if the ShieldGuards won’t come, he has”—he pointed with a trembling finger at the body lying at my feet—“he had friends. I don’t want any trouble, you know.”
He couldn’t have looked more pathetic if someone had paid him to act the part. I was planning on killing him as well, but there was something in his eyes. Not just fear—relief. He was not a part of this. Gret told me he’d gotten into debt. Most likely he was coerced to keep working for the gang. He could live, although I would not be betting on him seeing the end of the week regardless of what I did.
I felt the familiar headache begin to throb. Soon I would be in debilitating pain, not a condition I wanted to be in while facing vengeful criminals or the ShieldGuards, which were essentially just a better equipped gang. The mess I left here would cost too much in bribes to eliminate, anyway.
I looked at the tavern keeper, and he must have realised what I was thinking: he was a witness. No matter who came through the door once I’d left, he was going to be questioned, then interrogated, harshly.
Bending down with a soft sigh, I turned on my power sword again, used it to cut loose a full coin pouch, and tossed it at the man. It fell short and skidded on the bloodied floor. I waited for him to bend down and swoop the pouch up and then said, “For your troubles, those I just caused, and the ones that will be on your doorstep soon.”
He nodded, but then the relief I saw in his face was replaced with calculation.
“Do you have a family?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No, I had a wife but she—”
“Then I suggest you take your savings and whatever you can carry from here and make it to the city gates as fast as you can, and don’t come back.”
“I will, madam.” This time he was lying. He was worried, that was plain to see, but not desperate. I’d seen a deadly glimmer of hope shine in his eyes the moment he picked up the bag of towers I threw his way. He was convincing himself that somehow he would be able to talk his way out of this. But I knew better. Very soon the tavern keeper would have to answer questions coming from people no one dared lie to, and he was going to betray me, or give my description at the very least. I know I would.
“How did you do it?” he suddenly asked. I didn’t need to give him an explanation, but then he added, “Move like that. I see no markings on you, and you’re no Troll, and even they—”
I didn’t bother to answer. My headache was getting bad, and my arm was bleeding profusely from a cut I’d received when one of those bastards got lucky. It was a close call. I’d acted in haste, letting emotions dictate my actions and bursting into the Seven Swans, sword in hand. Worse, I was getting rusty, though this time I was also lucky; these kinds of mistakes usually came with a higher price tag.
“Where is Summer?” I asked.
“Who?”
“The mule.”
“Oh.” He pointed with a trembling finger. “At the back. The gate is locked but I can—”
“You do that.” I watched him scurry away, picked up the medibag from the bloodied floor, and walked slowly after him. The medibag was still full. They were probably planning on selling its contents. Summer was still tied to the cart, standing in her own droppings. No one had bothered to release her from the cart, and my guess was that she hadn’t been fed either.
“Hello, Summer,” I said, and patted her gently. She pressed her long muzzle against my hand when I gave her a carrot.
The gate was already open when I got onto the seat and drove out into the street.
The ShieldGuards were taking their time, pretty much the same as any police force anywhere in the world. I passed the corpses of the two guards I had left by the door and disappeared into the shadows.
A while later I passed the cottage, slowed down a bit, but did not stop. The neighbourhood would be safer for a while, now that I had butchered the gang that was terrorizing it, but someone else would eventually step in. That’s the way of things. There’s always a fucking balance.
It was time to move on, get back to my mission. I looked up at the top towers and the glistening Tarakan lights adorning their silhouettes. Yes, that would be a welcome change, but unfortunately, my business had to be taken care of in a less appealing environment. I turned the cart and drove away, heading towards the discs that would bring me down to the Pit.
Chapter 47
Artium
Entry 11694
On a personal note:
Artium hesitated. He leaned back on his chair and watched the black screen. The green square blinked and reappeared, waiting for him to type the next syllable that would turn into a word, then a sentence describing the weather, as was his duty for the last decade. But he couldn’t. For the first time in his memory, Artium did not even check the numbers. His mind was racing, playing through recent events. He took his hands off the keyboard, looked at them, then leaned forward and began sobbing softly into his palms.
It all began with an ominous dream.
He was running in the familiar yet distorted empty corridors of the compound holding his pistol in his hand. No matter which corner he turned, Milbored was waiting for him there. His neck was broken from the long fall and part of his face had been eaten by maggots, but he still smiled at him, insofar as his broken jaw allowed. Sometimes he was
leaning against the wall, or lying on the empty floor, other times he reached for him. Artium ran. His legs had always been strong, but now felt as if they were full of lead. He was slow, too slow, and the dead Milboreds were after him. Artium searched for a door he could lock himself behind, but he found only empty dark screens on endless corridor walls. From each of those screens, Emilija’s face watched him, her grey stare as cold as death. “Master SkyWatcher,” she hissed at him with every pass. He aimed the pistol at one of the screens with a trembling hand and pulled the trigger. The shot shuttered the screen and glass fell to the floor, but Emilija’s broken face was still inside the shards, looking at him.
“Master SkyWatcher.”
Artium woke up with a start on his reclining chair. There was a blurry figure standing not too far away from him. At first, he thought it was Milbored and he writhed on the chair, stopping himself at the last moment from crying out in horror when he realised it was just the girl.
“What is it? What time is it?” he managed to say to the blurry figure. Morning was when his eyesight was at its worst.
“It is a little before sunrise,” came the answer.
“What are you doing here?” Artium rubbed his eyes with his hands despite the uselessness of the gesture. Had the girl stayed in the observatory all night?
“You cannot see.”
Artium swore softly, but Emilija simply walked closer to him, until her image became clear enough to see in detail. She extended her hand. “Come with me,” she said. It wasn’t an order as such, but Artium grasped her warm hand and helped himself up before he realised what he was doing. He was in his nightgown but managed to grab his belt as he passed the stool. Once he wrapped it around his middle, he felt somewhat more decent.
Emilija took Artium’s hand, turned, and began walking towards the door leading into the compound’s east wing. Artium walked with her, hand in hand, still trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not.
Before he knew it, they were walking in the dusty, empty corridors of the east wing, passing scores of black screens. The place had been out of use since Artium was a child. Long ago, power still ran in the wing but one day it had simply ceased, and they had all had to move to the western part of the compound. Now that he was thinking about it, Artium could not figure out how they had gotten into the abandoned section, since the door had to be manually opened and that took time and strength. He looked back, but they had already ventured deep into the wing. The only light was from the first rays of the sun penetrating through the high window slits, and that was barely enough to see where they were going. When they reached the stairs leading to the underground section he stopped.
“It is completely dark,” he said. “We will not be able to see where we are going.”
“You cannot see” was the girl’s calm response.
“But—”
“You cannot see.” Her warm hand tugged his lightly, as if she was pulling a goat on an outing.
It’s just a bad dream, you old fool . . . Artium let himself be pulled into the stairwell as they carefully descended into the darkness. With his other hand he touched the wall, expecting to run into something with every step they took, trying not to panic. This is what it would be like to be completely blind. But the girl seemed to know where she was going despite the darkness and the dampness of the uncirculated air.
He followed her through an open doorway, which was strange, because all the doors should have been locked. That was how he remembered it.
“You’ve been here before?” His voice bounced off the walls.
“Yes.”
“Why?” His knee bumped into something and he stifled a yelp.
“Because you cannot see.” She suddenly let go of his hand and moved away, leaving him in complete darkness.
He groped in the air and his hand touched something leathery and soft. A seat of some sort. But his other hand went to his belt and felt the hilt of his pistol. What was he going to do? Shoot the girl?
“Emilija. Where are you?”
“I am here.” He turned towards the voice, his hand reaching out in the darkness while his other hand pulled the gun out from its holster.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you cannot see.” This time the answer came from somewhere else in the room. He turned towards it, this time pointing the pistol in the darkness.
“I don’t know what you are thinking but you—arrgh!”
The suddenness of light in the room blinded Artium. With one hand he shielded his eyes but with the other he kept the pistol pointed in the general direction of Emilija’s voice. For what reason? He couldn’t really say, but he was frightened.
“It will take a little while to get ready.”
She was standing next to his extended arm, completely ignoring, or oblivious to, the fact he was ready to shoot her. He felt like an old fool.
“What will?” he said.
Emilija did not answer.
There was a soft but consistent hum as the machines came to life around them. A fresh gust of air caressed Artium’s face. He blinked several times until the glare became bearable, and he looked around. From the little his eyes allowed him to gather, there were many machines in the room. Some of them were the general size and shape of the machine he typed the numbers into, but others were completely different. He could not really trust his sight, but a few of the machines even seemed transparent, as if they were made of shimmering air. All around him screens were coming to life, showing numbers, letters, and signs he could not decipher.
“How . . . how did you do that? This place has been empty for years.”
Emilija’s blurry image moved about the room. “I changed the patterns a little so the power can flow here, but the observatory will not function for a while.”
As far as Artium could tell, Emilija did not attempt to type anything into the machines. He squinted after her as she moved from one machine to the next. When she passed him, Artium realised he was still holding his pistol, and he quickly holstered it before turning around after the girl.
What he had bumped into before was a large reclining chair covered in silvery protective foil. The chair had two thick metal arms, each ending with something that reminded Artium of a large, white hammer’s head. Wide, metallic cables ran from the bottom of the chair and into the wall and the floor. As Emilija busied herself removing the protective foil from the chair, Artium felt the room buzzing with power.
The seat was stained in dark patches, and Artium felt a shudder running up his spine just as Emilija said, “You should remove all your clothes and sit here.” She pointed at the chair.
Artium looked at the girl, but as far as he could tell she was serious.
“I will not remove my clothes,” he answered with a voice filled with indignation.
“Why not?”
“Because it is not something one does in front of a lady.”
Emilija paused and seemed to think about his answer. “Why not? Are you cold?” She brightened up. “I could ask to make it a little warmer.” She walked to a machine and laid a hand on it, briefly shutting her eyes. The breeze grew slightly warmer.
Artium’s jaw dropped. “How are you doing this?”
But Emilija just repeated, “You should remove your clothes now, SkyMaster,” and added almost impatiently, “You cannot see.”
“Yes, I know.” Artium gave in, and his hands moved to his belt. “Although I wish you were the blind one right now.”
She looked at him. “Why?”
Artium sighed. “It was just a joke.”
“Mother says life is no joke. She says I should be careful and take things seriously and that there are things I should not know about.”
Artium was down to his loincloth. “Well, let’s keep this situation from your mother’s ears, shall we?” He hesitated. “Would you mind turning around?”
“Why?”
“Because I am going to be completely naked.”
“You are
going to be completely naked after I turn back.”
There was no arguing that. Artium removed his loincloth and turned to the chair, covering himself with both hands. He almost fell back with surprise as the two metal arms moved suddenly. One of them sprayed the seat with something moist and foul smelling, and the other blew some kind of white dust over the seat. The dust solidified as it touched the surface, and in several heartbeats the seat was covered in thin white linen.
“You should sit in the chair,” Emilija said behind him.
He slowly turned and lowered himself down, feeling the warmth of the seat underneath, then swung his legs up and leaned back. The linen felt surprisingly soft on Artium’s skin, not like the goatskin he was used to sleeping on. Almost immediately his surroundings changed. Several screens seemed to just appear out of thin air all around him. Screens hanging on the surrounding walls flickered to life, some of them showing Artium’s naked body while others showed an image of what he would perhaps look like if his skin was removed. Artium shut his eyes.
“You have to open your eyes,” Emilija said from somewhere in the room. “You cannot see.”
“Well, maybe that’s for the better,” he mumbled, and opened his eyes.
One metal arm was moving all around his naked body while the other one, blurry as it was, was covering his entire knee. He did not even feel its touch, but his knee suddenly felt cold.
“Hey, what is it doing?” Artium tried to sit up but to his horror he found he was somehow restrained by an invisible force.
“What is happening?” he cried, and tried to turn his head, but the restraint affected his entire body.
“It’s telling you to hold still and relax,” Emilija said dreamily. She moved into his blurry field of vision, next to a screen that was showing the outline of a man’s knee. Things were being done to the knee, and Artium was thankful he was too blind to see. Still, as the metal arm detached itself from his knee, Artium had to admit that he felt no pain. The arm hovered over Artium’s face and he felt something cold and damp on his left cheek.
