I thought it was all very strange. Did he mean to imply this young woman had been his father’s lover? It seemed hardly credible. I’d seen the relationship between Doctor and Mrs. Dufort. Perhaps Corin just imagined things? He wouldn’t be the only sensitive young man who endowed his elders with a fantasy life they’d never had.
“I think,” I said, carefully steering the conversation. “That we need to get out of here. They might not think to look for us here, then again they might.”
“Do you think Brisbois killed himself with that grenade?” Corin asked.
“There was no flesh in the spray,” Mailys said, with certainty.
Corin gave her an almost frightened look. “It was too fast to see.”
“No, I saw. There was no flesh in the spray.”
I suddenly felt exactly as I’d felt in the evenings at Len’s parents’ home. He had an older sister who had three teenage children, and when they got to arguing, no matter how stupid the argument, you simply couldn’t stop them.
“Whether he killed himself or not,” I said, “they might, sooner or later, look here. And even if they don’t, we can’t stay on this little ledge the rest of eternity. Surely, Corin, this is not why you stayed behind instead of allowing Brisbois to get you to safety with your parents.”
“No,” he said. “I—Something must be done. I always wanted a revolution, that would, you know, set people free. But they are hurting people. They are hunting them down.”
“This surprises you?” Mailys asked.
“I mean they’re hunting down everyone, not just enhanced people,” he said, in a tone of justification. “They burned down our neighbors’ house just because they thought it was ours.”
“Revolutions,” I said, feeling about three thousand years old, “are not known for calm and precision.”
“But—”
“But you can’t wait to help them?” Mailys asked. “To cleanse the world of those who are genetically engineered with superior traits? Because only after that can you be free? When you know there are no people engineered to be your superiors?”
“I never said that,” Corin protested.
“No? But you applauded it. You’re not totally unknown to me, Corin Dufort. I saw you at one of Madame Parr’s speeches.”
At that point, I was ready to plunge into the sea, even if there were no land anywhere in sight, no matter if I died, just to get away from the bickering children. I understood for the first time why Brisbois had called them children.
I was still not sure what game Brisbois was playing, nor was I reassured about his devotion to Simon, but I knew for a fact now that he was at least trying to gather the palace personnel and keep them safe. Or at least, he’d come for Doctor Dufort.
“Come,” I said. “Corin, how near are we to what might be a safe point to swim to? Or do we have to go back where we came from and pray?”
He chewed on the corner of his lip, thinking. “That way,” he pointed, opposite from where we’d come. “Oh, not very long. Around that bend, and we might find other ledges to rest on along the way. Then we’ll come to a loading dock for the vegetable market.”
“Not the vegetable market,” I said, remembering the explosion, and Simon and the revolutionary guards. “It will be guarded.”
He looked confused. “It’s the closest place, short of going back. And back there, they might have people waiting for us.”
I sighed. “All right.” It occurred to me that perhaps the revolutionary guard had moved on, after going over the place. “We’ll try it. We can always come back.”
We plunged into the water and swam to the place I’d barely escaped with my life before.
The Civilization Game
The market from this side looked too well lit for us to simply go abroad in it. But we pulled ourselves up into a relatively unlit dock. It might very well have been the same at which I’d seen Brisbois talk to a man before it had all exploded. The whole area looked charred, as though by a conflagration. I wasn’t sure there had been only an explosion here, though. For all I knew the market had been scoured by fire.
We dragged ourselves out of the water and onto broad flagstones of the loading dock, dripping water and trying to catch our breaths.
Corin scouted ahead and around the edge of the gate. When I looked up from squeezing my hair free of water, he was gesturing for us to follow.
We did, around the molded ceramite tables, and past stalls closed with corrugated metal. We heard footsteps and people, but we didn’t see anyone. There were songs and snatches of songs going this way and that. In the dark, in the shadows, it was surprisingly scary, disquieting. It was like listening to the thoughts of the city. The thoughts of the city sung to the tune of popular songs, all of them disturbing and filled with rage; echoing of blood and threats.
We stepped lightly, down the dark paths of the market. Corin took point. I’d guess his male pride required it. But I took care to look ahead myself. I could see farther than he did and likely hear better too, and I made sure I kept us out of trouble. Out of the path of potential trouble, even.
Which is why, when I heard the voices ahead, I half-ran forward, and put my hand in front of Corin, to prevent his going any further. He and Mailys stopped, behind my arm.
“What—” Corin whispered. I put my finger to my lips, and turned so he could see it. Almost soundlessly, I whispered in his ear, “There is noise that way. A crowd. Stay. You and Mailys.”
He glared, and I think it was on the tip of his tongue to tell me he didn’t hear anything. I don’t know why he didn’t, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded once, curtly.
I went ahead of him.
The crowd was in one of the larger areas. It must have been a courtyard. There had been several of those in the market, circular areas surrounded by stalls, all usually dealing in the same sort of goods, so that housewives could have shopped for vegetables or fish, without leaving the area. Now, in the center of one of them, a crowd had assembled. My first thought was how normal they looked. Average. Like everyone else. Except most of them wore liberty caps. And I could smell blood. The blood likely came from a young man—I think it was a young man, though it was hard to tell—standing in front of one of the stalls.
Atop the stall, standing on the little table normally used to display produce, stood a dark-haired, scraggly bearded man. “The people,” he said, “will not tolerate these soi-disant improved people to live. The people,” he said. “Will make this one an example for the others.”
He said a lot of other things, too. And every time he said anything there was applause, and someone struck the young person they held captive.
I didn’t know if he was improved. It’s not something you can smell, or even see, unless you observe someone in action, and in their area of expertise, at that.
What I knew for a fact was that they were tearing him apart. I could smell his blood, and I could hear his cries, the cries of someone grown hoarse from screaming.
I could also hear, and distinguish, the panting breaths, the excited heartbeats of the people surrounding him, the grinding of teeth, the fragments of sentences. “The people.” And “Keeping normal people down.” And “Oppressors.”
Fast breath behind me and I turned in time to see Corin and Mailys. Dear God, she had her burner out.
I moved faster than I had before, and pulled the burner out of her grasp. I turned and grabbed at Corin’s shoulder. I sped them both away.
They protested, both of them, with inarticulate sounds, but I was pulling them too fast, and the crowd was too absorbed in their sadism for it to register. I pushed and pulled the two young people away from the courtyard. I led them to places where I heard no sounds, no movement, hoping that they were deserted. When we reached the gate, there was no guard in a Liberty cap, which made me wonder what had been different the previous time. I didn’t care. I shoved Mailys and Corin out to the street. They were both now fighting my grasp but unable to break from it.
�
��We must go back,” Corin said, as soon as I slowed down enough that he had breath to speak. “We must save him.”
“He’s dead by now,” I said. “And there was nothing we could do for him by the time I saw him, except give him mercy. If there had been a regen tank right next to him, we might have been able to do something, but even then I doubt it.”
“How can you know that?”
“I smelled it,” I said. “I heard it. I know.”
Mailys said softly, “She’s right. I did also. I was going to give him mercy.” Then she looked at me. “Who are you? You’re not one of us.”
If I’d put two and two together from what I’d half-heard, I’d have had a pretty good idea that I was, or close enough as would make no difference.
“We’ll talk,” I said, as I dragged them out, keeping an ear out. Corin looked mulish. Mailys looked puzzled, and I wondered what coil I was caught in this time. Was Corin some sort of anti-enhanced person fanatic? It was difficult to believe, but only because I knew what my husband had been like. However, just because you look like someone doesn’t mean you are like someone, and I wasn’t enough of a child to believe otherwise.
They kept quiet. Mailys put the red liberty cap on her head, and I wondered where she’d got it. I could guess she had preserved it in a pocket while we were swimming around the isle.
We emerged into relatively quiet night streets, well away from the market, and I wondered if we should go back to the hotel. Part of me wanted to, at least for the sake of figuring out where Alexis was, and if he was alive. But no. The chances of his being alive, even if Mailys said there had been no body parts in the spray, were small enough. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
Right then, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted Alexis Brisbois to be alive or not. I just knew he’d told me to keep Mailys and Corin alive. Or at least I hoped that’s what he meant by “children.”
It was a small, inarticulate sound from Corin that called my attention. I turned to look where he was pointing. In this street of otherwise unremarkable middle-class townhouses, one looked looted. The door hung crookedly on its hinges. The windows were broken.
I glanced at Corin. “People you know?”
He started to shake his head, then nodded. “Friends,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse. “Of Dad’s.”
“Looks like they were attacked.”
He nodded again, then seemed to make some internal decision, and turned, starting to walk towards the door. I put a hand in front of him. “No,” I said. “No.”
“But I have to see,” he said. “It’s my duty. They might need help.”
I looked dubiously at the house. There was no sign of movement. If there were anyone in that house, they were as likely to be hostile as they were a friend. Of the three of us, I was more likely to be able to escape if there was trouble simply because I was faster and smarter than most normal, nonbioengineered humans. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I have…ways of getting out faster.”
“But if there is anyone in there, they’ll know me!” Corin said.
“And if the people who are in there know you but want you killed?” I asked. “Tell me who lives there.”
“Francois. He’s about thirty years old. Dark hair. His wife is Adelie. She’s blond. Twenty something? Their name is Bonnaire. They have a little girl. She’s three—No, five. Her name is Tieri.”
I nodded. “If I see them, I’ll shout I’m your friend, shall I, and then you can come in.”
I ran towards the house, but stopped at the entrance. It was silent, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the smell of blood. Not recent blood, either. I took a deep breath and went in, moving carefully through the shadows.
There was a sound, faint, from a distance, but it didn’t sound like someone in the house. What I mean is it was a sound so distant that it might be coming from a nearby house, or perhaps from outside, in the gardens. No immediate threat to me.
I was in a sort of atrium, and walked from it and around the bottom floor. I found Francois and the source of a great deal of the blood smell in the kitchen. At least I presumed it was Francois. Someone had decapitated him and the head was missing. There was the stump of bloody neck, but no head anywhere in sight.
I started to turn away when I heard gagging from the left, from an area that I presumed had been a breakfast room.
The burner was in my hand and I put it back in my pocket. The person gagging was Corin. I looked over the counter at where he was. Adelie, too, was missing her head, and a coating of black blood spread over the floor.
Mailys came in, walking cautiously.
“I asked you to wait outside,” I said.
“There didn’t seem to be any danger,” Mailys said.
Corin didn’t say anything. He’d taken off running, and presently I heard him retching. I didn’t hear anything else, except that distant sound. A sound too faint and distant, I was sure, for any normal person to hear.
“There’s someone in the wall,” Mailys said. “That way.”
“In the wall?” It was what I’d heard also, but I didn’t know how Mailys knew it.
“I can’t find Tieri,” Corin’s thickened voice sounded from the entrance to the kitchen. “I mean,” he said and hiccupped. “I can’t find her body.”
I remembered instructions that Simon had given me, once when we were visiting someone on Liberte seacity, and he must have been somewhat worried about the situation. It must have been at the back of his mind. He’d told me all upper-class houses in the seacity had a safe room, disguised as a plain wall, so that occupants could be sheltered from riot or robbery.
I thought the Duforts’ secret…laboratory? It had been rather a grand form of that, but—“Where is their safe room?” I asked Corin.
He had come close and now looked utterly astonished. “Their what?”
“Their safe room,” I said. “There’s someone crying behind a wall.” I walked down a hallway and patted the wall at the end. “This wall.”
“How do you know there’s someone behind the wall?” Corin said.
“Don’t be more of a fool than you can help,” Mailys snapped.
“Oh,” he said, as though this explained everything. “I don’t know where their safe room is. Yes, they probably have one. But if they had time to put Tieri in it, why not themselves?”
“Perhaps they were defending?” Mailys said.
Corin looked doubtful. He shook his head. “They never told me where it was,” he said. “Or how to open it. Or even that they had a safe room.”
Mailys made a sound of impatience as she felt along the wall. She pulled down a tapestry that hung artistically on it and threw it carelessly behind her. Then she ran her fingers down the wall, slowly.
The crying coming from behind it had that sound of despair that comes when a child has been crying for a long time and has despaired of rescue.
I looked at what Mailys was doing. She cast me a glance over her shoulder. “I can’t feel the joining,” she said. “But I can feel a difference of temperature here,” she ran her hand along a line.
She seemed to be looking to me for confirmation, and I went over and felt the difference of temperature too, in a thin crack, something that even the best, tightest joining of a secret door couldn’t prevent. It felt warmer, which made sense. I hoped they had ventilation in the secret room, or the person inside would be running out of air soon. Meanwhile I made a note that Mailys could hear very faint sounds from within a wall, sounds that normal humans—or at least Corin—couldn’t, and that she could feel the subtle differences of temperature at a secret door joining. The indications were that Mailys might be faster, smarter, stronger.
I tabled it for discussion later, and said, “Corin! How old is Tieri? Can she help us get her out?”
“She’s five years old,” he said. “And I don’t know. She…I babysat for them.”
I nodded. I’d felt the joining all around. The entire end of the hallway was a door, the seam
around the edge where wall met wall. Mailys was frantically feeling along the length of the wall for a hint of a genlock; an opening, a bump, anything that could activate the door.
I thought that she had that part covered, and also that if I were putting an opening mechanism for a secret door somewhere, I wouldn’t put it on the door itself. So I started looking around, at the walls at right angles to it. Nothing caught my carefully scanning eyes. I turned to the ceiling, which was covered in an elaborate decorative pattern of small plaster roses. I scanned more carefully along the two feet or so of the ceiling. One of the roses seemed somewhat lopsided. I reached up to it and felt it. Yes—there was some sort of mechanism there. Again, the temperature was different from those of the plaster roses about it. And the difference, visually as well as temperature, was probably something that no normal human being could sense. I felt carefully along the leaf that was slightly fatter than the others and tried for the give to see if it moved at all. It did, wiggling in my hand. I felt one way up and then down the other, looking for a way to slide it.
I met with more resistance as I pushed it left than right, so I let it slide right.
There was a sound like two slabs of dimatough rubbing on each other, and suddenly we were looking into a small, spare room. In the middle of it stood a little blond girl, clutching a kitten and crying.
She shrieked when the door slid up, then said, “Corin!” and ran to him. He took her and the kitten struggling in her grasp in his arms, and stood up.
And I remembered the decapitated bodies in the kitchen, and said “Corin, take Tieri upstairs. Make sure she’s all right.” I met his eyes and tried to convey the idea that under no circumstances should the child be allowed in the kitchen. Mercifully, he seemed to get it. “Yes, Tieri—let’s go up to your room and get you more practical clothes. We might have to run. And who is this kitten? Have I met him?”
As their voices went away, I turned to Mailys. “Can you help? Is there some way we can dispose of the bodies and make this house secure?”
She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes wide and doubtful, and I thought she was going to tell me I’d lost my mind, but then she shrugged, and started towards the back. “There is usually a small backyard, perhaps large enough for a grave, if we can find something to dig with.”
Through Fire (Darkship Book 4) Page 14
