‘Hey, Gaela. What’s the word?’
‘Crappy, I’m afraid.’ She flopped down into a chair. ‘How’re you doing, Mikal?’
‘Today,’ he said solemnly, ‘is no better than yesterday, and with any luck will be no better than tomorrow.’
She laughed. Mikal had a fondness for constructing aphorisms, the more mind-bending the better. She thought about it for a moment and decided he was on the whole being optimistic.
‘Sorry I can’t be more help.’
‘Work drying up?’
‘Yes. I think it’s partly the time of year, but also …’ She stopped, shook her head. ‘The clients are skittish. It’s almost like they’re not sure whether it’s still cool to hire gems.’
‘I’m hearing that from everyone.’ Mikal blinked. His eyelids slid up from the bottom as well as down from the top, meeting in the middle.
‘We’ll keep on giving whatever we can, but it’s going to be less than I thought. Can you cope?’
‘We’ll manage.’ He glanced down at the screen inset into the desk. ‘Energy production is steady, even with not much solar. We’re still getting a lot of food from up top. And the United Churches have just upped their pledge.’
‘They have?’ She frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Don’t sound so cross, dear. We need the credits.’
‘I know, I know. But they must want something.’
‘No doubt they’d like more of us to join their congregations, but they’re not making it conditional. I think they’re pretty sure kindness and charity will get us there in the end.’
Gaela snorted, but she felt a twinge of guilt. Members of the religious confederation had been among the loudest voices calling for gem protection. She’d eaten many a meal in their soup kitchens, clothed herself with their donations. When the high-altitude mining operations started to produce more dead bodies than minerals, it was they who’d fought for and funded the evacuation that had brought Bal to London.
‘They also,’ Mikal said thoughtfully, ‘have been invited to attend the Conference.’
‘Bit late in the day. How’d that happen?’
‘We made it happen.’
Gaela stared, then rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, Aryel.’
‘One step ahead, as usual.’
‘She thinks they’ll be able to help?’
‘You think they won’t?’
‘It’s getting rough out there, Mikal.’ Gaela looked down at her hands. They were still cold, a sensation she could see as well as feel. She rubbed them together. ‘Mostly it’s little things: people don’t look you in the eye, you sort of pick up the vibe as you walk past. But sometimes it’s … Today, for instance. There’s this young guy, plays a guitharp in Covent Garden. He’s always there, and he’s very good. This afternoon I’m passing by, hear the music, but instead of applause there’s shouting. When I look there’s a group of norms yelling at him to stop, saying it’s a disgrace. Most of the others who were standing around listening are just dissolving away without a word. The kid says what’s wrong with my music, they tell him if God had wanted people to play like that everyone would have fourteen fingers.’
She paused. Mikal softly drummed his own fingers on the desk. He had three, bracketed by two opposing thumbs on either side of his palm. ‘What happened?’
‘One of them shoved him, another tried to grab the guitharp. I waded in, shouted back, got between them. I was wearing this,’ she flicked at the hat resting on her lap, ‘so they probably thought I was a norm. Then a couple of the shopkeepers piled out and yelled at them, and a couple of the bystanders started sticking up for him, and a cop showed up, so they backed down and headed off. He was in tears – you can imagine.’ Gaela sighed, twisting the hat in her hands.
‘Did the cop do anything?’
‘Said no actual crime had been committed, but he’d keep an eye out, have a word if he saw them again. He kept telling the kid to be careful, which is reasonable enough except it made it sound like it was his fault.’ Gaela shook her head. ‘I got him a coffee, and his name and comcode, and I’ll message him when I get home to make sure he’s okay.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘West End. I said he should consider moving here. Although I sometimes think we just make a bigger target.’
‘That’s occurred to me too. Concentrations concentrate contentions.’
She threw the hat at him. He caught and returned it.
‘You’ll write this up? Make sure he’s on the database?’
‘Yep.’
‘Thanks.’ The look he gave her was warm with admiration, and sympathy. ‘That was brave of you, Gaela. And not surprising. Just remember that the people who most need your protection are already here.’
*
Gabriel was at the door to greet her before she could get it all the way open. She swept him up, burying her face in the little-boy smell of play and sweets. He patted the back of her head with grubby hands, sing-shouting, ‘Papa, Mama’s home! Mama’s hooome!’
‘Whatever happened,’ she said, lowering him to the ground, ‘to the quiet boy who used to live here? The one who used to whisper when he talked?’
‘He’s GONE!’ Gabriel collapsed in giggles as she tickled him. She straightened up into Bal’s embrace, was thoroughly kissed as he helped her off with her coat.
‘Eew!’
‘Eew yourself.’ Bal looked down at the grinning child. ‘Finish your lesson?’
‘Almost.’
‘Almost sounds like you can get it done before dinner.’
‘I want to play with Mama.’
‘Mama wants to play with you,’ Gaela said, ‘as soon as you’ve finished. What are you working on?’
‘Adding stuff up.’
‘You’ll be done in no time. I’m going to go and talk to Papa for a bit.’
They left him sticking his tongue out at his tablet. Bal handed her a mug of tea and dropped dumplings into a stew while she told him about the young musician. He’d been hearing similar tales over the counter at the leisure centre.
‘I think,’ he said quietly, ‘that when you have a job now, I should go with you.’
‘Sweetie, I don’t need an escort. I’m fine.’
‘So far. I don’t like this, Gaela. Have you looked at any of the socialstreams recently?’ She shook her head. ‘Gems are trending – nothing new there – but the last few days there’ve been all these new posts. From silly stuff like gems staring at norms or their kids’ – they both glanced, involuntarily, towards the living room where Gabriel was – ‘to more serious things.’
‘Like what?’
‘Assaults. Robbery. Kidnappings.’
‘That’s ridiculous. If that was happening we’d have heard, and the newstreams would have picked it up.’
‘That’s the thing. It’s all very,’ he waved a big, floury hand in the air, ‘amorphous. My best friend’s aunt’s neighbour got mugged by a gem. Someone who works in my mate’s office heard that someone in the building next door got beaten up by a gem. My girlfriend’s cousin is a teacher and she said a gem tried to pick up some kids from the school.’
She stared. ‘All of that?’
‘That’s just a sample. And of course they all get reposted umpteen times. But I crosschecked against the newstreams and the police posts. There’s been the odd incident, there always is, but there’s no correlation with the socialstream gossip. When that gets pointed out on the streams, the response is that the police and the media must be conspiring with the gems.’
She looked down at the mug, watched its heat transferring into her hands.
‘Have you told Aryel?’
‘Sent her a message with the links. She was in meetings all day.’
They continued to fret over it while Bal set the table and Gaela pulled out her tablet. He had just sent Gabriel to wash his hands when there was a knock at the door. Gaela glanced at it, blinking to refocus into infrared. ‘It’s Aryel,’ she said, and Bal opened the door.
/>
‘We were just talking about you.’
‘Really? Oh dear.’ She looked tired and worried. Bal was puzzled.
‘You didn’t get my note?’
‘I did, thanks. I’ve been monitoring those streams myself. I passed your findings and mine on to the police, I’m seeing them tomorrow.’ She perched on a stool, looking precariously top-heavy in her lumbering cloak, and accepted a cup of tea gratefully.
Gabriel skipped back into the room, grinned at the new arrival.
‘Hey, you.’
‘Hi, Aunty Aryel.’
She spotted the stillness of concentration settling over his face and shook her head sternly. ‘Don’t look,’ she said. The little boy pouted. ‘I mean it, Gabe. Aunty Aryel’s mind is not a good place to be today.’
He sighed theatrically and flounced onto his seat, piled high with cushions, as Bal put a fourth bowl on the table. Aryel opened her mouth to protest, and Bal wagged a finger at her.
‘No argument. We have plenty and I know for a fact you didn’t eat today. So unless you have a hot date waiting somewhere …’
She laughed at that, and acquiesced. For a while there was no sound but the clinking of cutlery and light chatter about the weather. Finally Gabriel swallowed a massive mouthful, burped and looked around.
‘Are you all really going to wait till I’ve gone to bed before you talk about stuff?’
They stopped eating to look at him. Gaela mastered the smile that was trying to twitch its way onto her lips, and put her spoon down firmly.
‘Gabe.’
‘But Mama, I know already. I could tell you.’
Bal cleared his throat. ‘Tell us what, exactly?’ Aryel was staring anxiously at Gabriel.
‘Well,’ he said, reconsidering solemnly. ‘I don’t know exactly. Aunty Aryel wants to talk to you about me but it’s all kind of complicated. That’s not,’ he held a small, stew-stained finger up for emphasis, ‘the really bad thing that’s making her upset. That’s something different.’
‘Thought I told you not to look.’
‘I haven’t. I’m scared of it.’
‘Good.’ Aryel sat back, relieved.
‘Gabe, honey.’ Gaela combed her hands through her hair in frustration. ‘There are things that grown-ups just aren’t supposed to talk about in front of kids.’
‘But those kids don’t know stuff.’
‘You may be an extraordinary kid,’ Bal tried, ‘but give us a break. We’re just ordinary grown-ups.’
Gabriel chortled. ‘No you’re not.’
Three adults opened their mouths for a comeback, glanced at each other and dissolved into slightly hysterical laughter. Gabriel glared at them and went back to his stew while they pulled themselves together. Bal was the first to recover.
‘Right. Aunt Aryel,’ he said with exaggerated politeness, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin, ‘did you want to talk to us about Gabe?’ He looked across the table at Gaela. They exchanged elaborate shrugs. Gabriel rolled his eyes.
‘As a matter of fact, Bal, I did.’ Aryel was vastly amused. They had had endless conversations about the futility of trying to hide things from Gabriel, but the instinctive diffidence of the mature towards the very young was turning out to be a hard habit to break.
‘I wanted to tell you that I’ve got the final set of results. They confirm our earlier tests, and Gaela’s suspicions.’
The laughter bled out of the room. Bal and Gaela locked eyes on each other, then on Aryel.
‘What,’ demanded Gabriel, ‘does that mean?’
‘You remember what we talked about before? About how come you can do what you do, and why your hair is different from Mama and Papa’s?’
He nodded.
‘Well it turns out that what we thought is true.’
He looked doubtful. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
His mouth turned down. ‘Does that mean I have to go away?’ He looked anxiously at Gaela and Bal.
‘No.’ Gaela leaned round to cup his little face in her hands and look into his eyes. ‘No. This is your home. You do not ever need to go anywhere. Hear me?’
‘Yes, Mama.’ He slipped off his chair and wriggled onto her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and looked fierce. Bal reached over and rested his hand on the boy’s head for a moment.
‘Mama’s right,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter where you came from and what happened before. You and us are a family now. Okay?’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘Okay.’
They finished the meal quietly. Gaela went to get Gabriel ready for bed while Aryel helped Bal with the dishes.
‘What it does mean,’ she said, ‘is that we need to make him understand how important he is, without scaring him. He’s got to learn to be careful. Which isn’t going to be easy.’
Bal nodded. ‘He’s not a shy kid any more.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘When Gaela found him, I was so sure whoever did it must have had a plan – either he was being traded, or they wanted him to turn up dead on the doorstep of the Squats so it looked bad on us.’
‘I think the latter’s more likely, since no one’s ever shown up to collect. Henderson certainly wouldn’t have wanted him found alive. Considering the way he was wrapped up the plan may simply have been to take him down to the river. We might have the gillungs to thank for that not happening, they were arriving en masse that week.’
‘If Henderson’s ever found …’
‘I’m pretty certain,’ Aryel said evenly, ‘that he won’t be.’ Bal looked at her. There was something in her face and voice that told him the matter was neither in doubt nor open for further discussion.
They were quiet for a while, Bal washing and Aryel drying. Finally he cleared his throat.
‘But you don’t think the danger’s passed.’
‘I think we can never forget that others are looking for him. They just don’t know to look here, it’s the last place they’d expect. If they did know we’d have a fight on our hands that …’ Her voice trailed away and she sighed. ‘We’d have to do things none of us wants to do.’
A shadow passed over his face, of anger mixed with revulsion, and fear. ‘They’re going to use this Conference to try and get us back.’
‘Yes, they are.’
‘The scientist you met today. Eli Walker.’
‘Yes?’
‘He a bagman?’
‘No, but they’re leaning on him. Why?’
‘Gabe was with me in reception. He noticed.’
‘Damn.’ She chewed her lip in thought. Finally she shrugged, the movement exaggerated and made ponderous by the ungainly bulk of her cloak.
‘Let’s not worry about it too much. He’s got other things on his mind, and the datastreams are solid. I’ll ask Herran to keep an eye on it. Did he say anything?’
‘Just hello. Very civil.’
‘What did Gabe think?’
‘That he was smart. And nice, but a bit mixed up.’
Aryel grimaced. ‘That would be exactly my assessment. Dr Walker is in a very difficult place right now. I don’t envy him.’ She sighed, staring into the distance, thinking.
‘He did something quite brave today,’ she said. ‘It makes me think he could be a friend. We’re going to see a lot of him over the next few days – he’s going to want to talk to Gaela, and you too, probably. There’s no point trying to hide Gabe. It could even be dangerous. We’ll have to play it the same with him as with everyone else, and see how far he can be trusted.’
*
Hail drummed on the roof of the stairwell as Aryel climbed up to her flat some time later, moving with a weariness she rarely let others see. It hammered against the picture windows of Eli Walker’s hotel room, rousing him from the chair where he sat with a tablet, working on the final draft of his report. He walked over and looked out at the storm sweeping in. A blanket of ice and bitter cold was falling across the city.
Eli pulled the curtains closed and went back to work.
A young man with glowing orange-red hair and the pale, pouty features of a pre-Raphaelite painting emerged, along with a blast of music, from a club on one of the roads that ran towards the Squats. He swore as the sleet slapped at his face, blinding him as he stumbled around a corner to get out of the wind. He bumped into someone and looked up, blinking and shaking the water and hair out of his eyes.
‘Sorry, didn’t see—’ he began, and stopped.
Six people clustered in the shelter of the alley. They were dressed for the weather, collars turned up on heavy coats and hats pulled low. Some had even pulled scarves right across their faces. There was nothing to recognise them by except the current of threat, intangible and unmistakable.
He stepped back, and found that the way was blocked. ‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ someone said. The group closed in around him.
‘Heading home,’ he replied, feeling fear clamp cold and hard around his intestines. ‘I’m not looking for any trouble. Sorry to get in your way.’ He held up his hands, turning slowly, thinking if there was only one behind maybe he could dodge past and make a run for it. There were two.
‘The Lord permits no home for such as you,’ came a voice at his back.
‘Abomination,’ muttered another.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said. He could feel his knees starting to go.
A hand fell on his shoulder, swung him round.
‘You think we can’t see what you are?’ The speaker was a man with the heavy build of a boxer, swinging a fist into a gloved hand. ‘What you’re doing in that place? You think we don’t know?’
The young man understood, with a conviction buried too deep in genetic memory for any clever tampering to touch, what was coming. He thought of pleading and knew with the same sinking certainty that it would do no good.
He summoned bravado, a last hope. Maybe sheer impudence would win him a way out. ‘That what you’re looking for, pops? You should’ve said. One at a time now.’
The curse and the fist hit him at the same time. He crashed back into the two blocking the mouth of the alley. They broke his fall with fists and feet. He went down, and the gang and the night closed over him.
Gemsigns Page 9
