Watcher's Web

by Patty Jansen

  The other soldier shouted and raised the crossbow, which didn’t appear to be loaded.

  Alla and the soldier regarded each other in complete silence. Alla’s tail waved threateningly at shoulder level. The soft moans of the soldier’s injured colleague as he attempted to get up were the only sounds in the room.

  The soldier’s hands tightened around the release mechanism of the crossbow. With a metallic zhing, a metal bolt shot into position from a magazine underneath the slide. A tingle drifted on the breeze, and chilled Jessica’s skin. Somewhere close by something drew energy.

  “Alla, get out of the way,” she said in a low voice.

  The Pengalis’ eyes widened, as if they felt the tingle of energy, too. In that moment, the young boy ran into the courtyard.

  All remaining Pengali scrambled after him. The injured soldier tripped up a female, causing another Pengali to stumble, but they jumped up, or were dragged up by their kin, and kept going. The soldier with the crossbow shouted, moving the weapon to get an aim on the flow of targets, but the Pengali were already gone. Some into the courtyard, others into the hallway. Splashes of water made Jessica realise how they had come in: through the ducts in the back wall. The soldiers ran into the courtyard, shouting, and the next moment someone ran into the room, panting.

  “What happened here? How did they get in?” Iztho. His eyes wide, nostrils flaring.

  “I don’t know. I woke up and they were inside.”

  “There were two guards outside your door. I told you to warn them, didn’t I?”

  “Calm down. They were only Pengali. Harmless. They were helping me.”

  He flung his arms wide. “Helping you with what? Helping you be noticed by the council? Helping to make sure you never get out of here?”

  “No. I don’t know. They don’t seem dangerous.”

  “They don’t seem dangerous. I’ll tell you something: those guys who killed the other passengers—they were Pengali, too. They were harmless primitives? And here I am, risking my reputation to get you back safe, and you—”

  Jessica folded her arms over her chest. “These Pengali are not dangerous.”

  For a moment, he glared at her, then he harrumphed and stomped across the room. “All right. Go ahead. Be stubborn about it. We can’t reverse the damage. By now all the town will know that you’re here. Go back to sleep. In case you have any more stupid ideas, I’ll stand guard myself.”

  He strode out of the room. Gravel in the courtyard crunched under his feet. “That’s the last time I’ll do anything for an obnoxious woman.” The door slammed and rattled shut behind him.

  15

  NOW SHE FELT guilty. He was right about one thing: it was true that she didn’t know much about this world. She sat back down on the mattress and glared angrily into the dark, her arms folded over her chest.

  Well then, maybe he should tell her. Whose fault was it that she didn’t know much anyway?

  She let out a forceful breath.

  Acting like a spoilt teenager was not the answer either. She hadn’t exactly been friendly to him, and maybe he hadn’t been sure how much he could tell her. Perhaps he suspected she might not be what she seemed to be either. And maybe he had a whole lot more to teach her than the Pengali could. She could at least speak to him and find out what he was willing to share.

  When he returned in the morning, she would apologise to him, and from then on, she would not let his arrogance rile her so much.

  But when he swept into the room in the morning, apologies were long forgotten.

  “Time to get up.” The heels of his boots sounded like gunshots on the stone floor.

  Jessica groaned, rolling on her back and staring into the semidarkness. All her muscles ached and felt stiff from the hard mattress. “Is it light outside?”

  He flipped on the light, which shone mercilessly in her face.

  “It is light now.”

  He now looked even less like a faded hippie. His hair rippled over his shoulders like mercury. He wore, of all things, a thick fur cloak—in this heat! The medallion he had shown her yesterday was now prominently displayed on his chest. He also wore earrings, golden loops through his earlobes. He looked in his element, groomed, comfortable.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Well enough.” But even as she said this, a wave of fatigue engulfed her.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You look tired.”

  Look tired? She was tired. Damn Pengali, damn different days, damn everything. Her whole body was out of whack, but she was not going to crumple and let him play the knight in shining bloody armour. “I’m all right.”

  “I’ve brought some breakfast and you better eat it quickly. We have a lot to do today.”

  “Doing what?”

  She stumbled to her feet and followed him into the living room, where a bowl stood on the table. Some sort of translucent noodles.

  He explained while she ate.

  “I had some excellent results yesterday. I used some of my contacts in town, and I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to get you out.”

  “You mean—take me home?”

  “It will be the first step, but we’re not there yet.”

  Jessica took a bite. Noodles dangled down her chin. “So what comes first?”

  “I have to apply for a permit for you to leave town, and that isn’t as easy as it sounds, because you have no documents and the entire town is looking for you. So obviously you will have to travel in some sort of disguise, and I think I’ve found a solution. But first you need to be made presentable, and you need to learn to behave in a way fitting to the personality your documentation will say you are.”

  Geez, he was speaking in legalese. “And that is?”

  “As my wife.”

  Fucking what?

  “Traders’ wives travel with their husbands, often under the same licence, and unless they plan to travel separately, they don’t need their own documentation. However, Traders’ wives are refined women. Polite, educated, softly spoken, cultured.”

  Everything you are convinced I’m not. Fuck you. You’re doing this on purpose.

  He turned on her, pointing his finger at her chest.

  “Don’t get any ideas. I don’t like it either. It’s my reputation on the line. Everyone in the Trader Guild knows the Andrahar heir does not have a woman. I don’t intend to change that, so you keep quiet, and we might get out of here without too much trouble—”

  “You know what? I don’t like your threats, and I don’t like being intimidated.”

  “Do you want to go home or not?”

  “I do, but I don’t want to sell my fucking soul to do it.”

  His nostrils flared. “Lady, don’t you dare suggest that I will ever lay a finger on a woman who is not willing.”

  She stared at him. Believed every word he said.

  “If you are a lady, don’t use that sort of language either.”

  “So it’s OK for you, but not for me?”

  He stared at her, blew out forcefully through his nostrils. “You are truly like no woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Then you’ve only ever met dishrags, not real women.”

  “I didn’t mean that as compliment.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be. Do whatever you like. Just don’t expect me to follow mindlessly.”

  Again, a wordless stare. Longer this time. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on softened in his stance.

  He sighed. “Meanwhile . . .” He dug in a basket on the floor. The cloak fell aside and strapped to his arm was, clearly visible, a metal contraption that looked too much like a gun to be anything else.

  The only weapon that’s legal to own. Yeah—right. What was that, then? A water pistol?

  He put a bundle of fabric on the table. Red, thin woven cotton. “I borrowed this dress.”

  Jessica picked it up. Folds of fabric tumbled onto her lap, releasing a musty smell. It was a simple dress made of thin material, straight, long-sleeve
d, the material crumpled beyond redemption.

  “Put it on.”

  She gestured at the sarong. “Can’t I just wear this?”

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to get through to you. You have to dress appropriately. Covered shoulders, no bare knees. Dress code is very important.”

  Jessica glared. But there was nothing for it; she didn’t have the energy to fight over it. She picked up the dress and went to the bedroom. In the darkness she slipped off the sarong, folded it, and pulled the dress over her head. It reached only to just below her knees and the hem hung much lower at the back than at the front. Pulling the front made the sleeves twist around which caused the seams to cut into the soft skin under her arms.

  She ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching in knots. The action freed a whiff of the gooey soap Ikay had used.

  Her mind filled with doubt. The way Iztho was talking, she would soon be out of here and would never find out who these people were, where they had come from and where they had gone.

  When she entered the living room, Iztho pulled a face. “I’m sorry. That really is dreadful.”

  “I’m glad you agree with me for once.”

  He met her eyes in a wordless stare. Was it pity she saw there? Well, she didn’t want his pity.

  “Yes, we will have to do something about that as soon as we can. Here, put these on as well.” He passed her a pair of sandals.

  Jessica dropped the sandals on the floor and wriggled her feet into them. The straps cut across the tops of her toes, but they fitted better than the dress; they were probably a man’s.

  Then they were ready to go. She followed him into the courtyard and out the door into the alley. They started off down the hill. The suffocating heat of the previous night had dissipated and the alley was bathed in cool, blue-tinged shade. Sunlight only touched the very top of the wall to their left, the light still yellow and feeble, the shadows ringed with a distinct double edge.

  Three soldiers joined them, one in front, two behind.

  It seemed that Iztho really had organised their safe passage, if even she’d had doubts about him. Jessica remembered that she had intended to apologise for last night, although she didn’t really want to broach the subject of the Pengali. It would only lead to more arguments.

  Jessica asked, “How far are we going?”

  “To a guesthouse on the other side of town. It’s a fair walk.”

  “Doesn’t this town have gliders or shuttles or trains, or boats?” She looked down the alley, where she could see nothing except walls interrupted at regular intervals by timber doors. When she arrived last night, she had seen no form of transport other than boats. No engines, no motorised equipment, no technology other than the rechargeable pearls used as light source.

  “No. No trains or boats.”

  “What sort of place is this?”

  “It’s Barresh. It’s poor, it’s a backwater and it’s total anarchy. You don’t think this stuff-up with the Exchange could have happened anywhere else?”

  “Anywhere else? How many other places are there? Other . . . planets?”

  “Colonies. There are many.”

  “How many?”

  Giant space ports with large ships going in and out. Modern equipment, blinking lights. Like in that kitchen she had seen in Daya’s mind. He was now in another place where it was cold. She eyed Iztho’s cloak. Obviously intended for a cold climate.

  He met her eyes, a wary expression on his face. “The less you know, the easier your return will be.”

  “You mean you can’t tell me, or you’re not allowed?”

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “No.” Now she was getting angry again. Never mind the bloody apology. The man was an arrogant prick. “You told me I’m here because someone did something wrong. Don’t you think that means I’m entitled to know a bit more about what happened?”

  Another sharp glance. He said nothing. It seemed the conversation was over.

  His eyes scanned rooftops and alleys, his hand under his cloak, where his weapon was hidden. The sunlight glinted off the crossbow carried by the soldier in front. The two soldiers behind them had caught up.

  At the bottom of the hill, the small market lay deserted at this early hour. Only a giant lizard sat under the tree, scratching the dirt where the fishmonger had displayed his wares yesterday. It scuttled up the tree trunk at their approaching footsteps.

  The soldier in front led them around a corner to the left, away from the water. Here, they entered a wide, tree-lined street bordered by hills where every bit of ground had been built on. In addition to that, the hills seemed to be hollow. Tunnels led off the street at regular intervals and inside Jessica could see the lights of markets, eating houses and shops.

  Pengali ambled in and out of these entrances. No one was in a hurry. Older males gathered in groups, their jaws working as they chewed some green substance; mothers carried children and youngsters laughed. They wore rags and walked bare-footed, showing none of their skin patterns.

  Many of them watched the small procession of non-Pengali from the corners of their eyes. At Jessica’s passing, hands moved in unspoken signals, first close, then on a balcony, then further down the street. As if through an inaudible radio system, the news spread through the city faster than they could walk.

  There was no getting away from their stares.

  On and on they walked. The soldier in front, Jessica next to Iztho in wordless brooding, and the other two soldiers behind. Most of the people on the street were Pengali, but some were taller, and looked more like short and stocky Earth people, except for their strangely round faces with closely-spaced eyes and large nose. Every now and then they would pass a Pengali male or female who was well-groomed and dressed in turquoise. Most of these lugged bags filled with various items of produce, bulbs, bundles of leaves and fruit. They didn’t stop to speak to anyone except vendors and then only briefly. But they signalled just as much as the others.

  Jessica chanced a question. “Why do they wear that unusual colour?”

  “They’re servant colours. It means they’re employed.”

  “Who employs them?”

  “The ruling class—the keihu people.”

  He had talked about the ruling class before. She suspected they were the short and chubby people.

  But what about the tall people from the frieze? “Are there any other type of people in the city?”

  “There are no other people from Earth—”

  “What about other kinds?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “The largest group are the Mirani army. Most of them look like these soldiers here—”

  “What about others?”

  Again, that sharp glance. “Why are you asking? Did you see anyone in that forest except Pengali?”

  She shook her head, then decided to plunge in. If she didn’t ask, she would never find out anything. “No, I didn’t see anyone. It’s just that the Pengali showed me this rock carving of these people . . . tall . . . and . . .” She gave a helpless gesture, not willing to say like me, “. . . arriving at the Pengali settlement in some kind of spaceship, and . . .” She shrugged, and tried to sound careless. “I just thought they might still be here. Just wondering . . .” Hell, what a lame argument.

  His frown deepened. “A rock carving?”

  “Yeah—in the cliffs over there.”

  “In one of their sacred caves?”

  Jessica cringed. Maybe it would have been better not to mention it. She didn’t like his tone when he spoke of the Pengali activities.

  He asked, “Did it look old?”

  She nodded.

  “How old?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Then his face closed again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of people on rock carvings. Not here in Barresh anyway. But you should know that the Pengali are masters at craft. I mean—you saw all the stuff in the merchant’s apartment unit. Individual masterpiec
es. Their cloth, their glass-stone work. Sells very well. I wouldn’t put it beyond them to produce some rock art.”

  He laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine.

  “It’s not like that.” Jessica shook her head, pushing down her irritation. “This was old, really, really old. Thousands of years.”

  He shrugged. “Well—then I don’t know.”

  And with that, the conversation was over.

  Jessica stared at the uneven pavement passing under her feet. With every step, she walked further away from the truth about these tall strangers. And somewhere out there in the universe was a mother, or maybe a whole family, who had lost a baby.

  Somewhere out there was a man called Daya who was looking for her, who wanted to pick her up, but was in the wrong place, and whom she could almost contact through the web, but not quite. She must try again as soon as she could.

  They came to a bridge over a canal. Lazy water flowed between its straight sides, reflecting the yellow morning sky. Pengali boys were jumping off the railing into the water below, cascades of laughter following them through the air.

  Four soldiers stood sentry on the other side of the bridge. Their blond heads bobbed as they exchanged greetings with the guards who accompanied Jessica and Iztho. Like cherubs in uniforms, they looked. Similar to each other, deadly but silent like stone. Cobalt blue eyes glanced in Jessica’s direction.

  Away from the canal, the scenery changed abruptly.

  Large leafy trees lined the street, interspersed with flower beds and benches. Gone were the rubbish mounds, street stalls and compacted dirt pavement. Two-metre walls lined both sides of the street. Elaborate, albeit sometimes rusty, gates offered glimpses of the houses beyond.

  No more large apartment blocks, but single blocky houses, two or three storeys high, surrounded by gardens and high walls. Mosaic paths inlaid with glittering stones, flowering bushes clipped to perfection, fountains dribbling steaming water into ponds, porches supported by carved columns, leading up to double front doors with metal ornaments.

  The people changed, too. The short and squat ones were in the majority here. They were olive-skinned with dark curly hair and deep-set eyes. Many of the men had big double chins and wide spreading bellies; women sported several layers of hips. Taller than the Pengali, they still reached only to Jessica’s shoulders. Most of these people were dressed in clothes from drab khaki material. They wore a lot of adornments. Their short, sausage-like fingers were hidden under jewellery. Multiple chains of beads glittered around men and women’s necks. Their hair was braided into plaits interwoven with beads.