City of Burning Shadows (Apocrypha: The Dying World)

by Barbara J. Webb

  “Vivian, wait. I’ve got a better plan.”

  I twisted around in my seat. “I need a good look at them, and we’ll need to be going faster.”

  Josiah didn’t hesitate. He yanked on the wheel and our tires screeched as the car spun. Josiah drove straight at the moving shadow, three blocks back, as the car picked up speed.

  As we got closer, our headlights revealed four Jansynians, armed to the teeth, in a sleek black vehicle. The driver’s startled eyes reflecting back the glare. I fixed the look of the hovercar in my mind as it banked in the air to follow us.

  Now came the harder part. I closed my eyes and envisioned a link between the front of our car and theirs. The image had to be solid. It had to be sure. I had to focus on the reality I was trying to create, not the screeching tires or painful weight of armored lizard that kept falling into me as Josiah slalomed the car through the late-night city streets.

  “Ash!” Vivian snapped. “If you’re going to do something, do it.”

  I opened my eyes, grabbed at my bag, and pulled out my NetPad. I couldn’t do this all in my head. I opened up the sketch program, but the motion of the car turned all my attempts to draw into jagged squiggles.

  An explosion rang sharp outside the car. “Any time, Ash.” Vivian pointed her own gun out the window. I could see now the Jansynians were shooting at us.

  I slid down to the floor. Scrunched between Vogg’s and Spark’s legs with the NetPad pressed against the seat was as much stability as I could manage. I traced out the sigils I needed. Energy. Motion. Distance. Unity. Over and over in a rough circle. They weren’t perfect, but they would have to do.

  I blocked out the explosions. The jostling. The fear. In my mind, I retrieved the images of the two cars and to it I added this ring of symbols. I dropped the one over the other, and willed them to merge.

  The effect was immediate. We stopped. Not a hard brake that threw us all forward, but an immediate absence of forward momentum. At the same time, the explosive crash behind us told me my pattern had worked just like I’d hoped. It was like we’d run head-on into their car, except we got to skip the part where our own vehicle became a smashed pile of flaming wreckage.

  Josiah wasted no time getting the car moving again and we sped away from the crash.

  #

  After some time spent driving mazes through the city to make sure we had no further tails. I felt a little shaky once I didn’t have to cling to the calm focus for magic, once I had time to think about what I’d just done.

  We made it to the rendezvous point without further incident. Iris was on the ground, waiting. Spark and Vogg and I got out as quickly as possible, and I waved to Josiah as he sped the car away. We hastened to the safehouse.

  Viktor stood outside, as before, and he nodded to Iris. “Everything’s ready.”

  “Ash, would you take Spark and Vogg inside while I talk to Vik?” Iris asked.

  I was happy to oblige. I didn’t feel steady and my heart was still racing. I wasn’t eager to look weak in front of the men with the guns.

  Vogg paid close attention to all the building’s occupants, but I couldn’t read either approval or disapproval on his stoic face. Only the occasional flutter of his ear-flaps communicated any emotion, but I had no idea what it was.

  Spark’s temporary living quarters had gained some dishes and blankets in the hours since I’d seen it, but it still couldn’t pull off welcoming. She sat down at the table as Vogg took her bags into one bedroom and his one bag into the other.

  Just to be safe, I did another check for listening devices or other Jansynian unpleasantness. The house was still secure. We’d done it.

  I took the chair across the table from Spark, happy to have a quiet moment. Vogg joined us, kneeling next to the table, since we’d run out of chairs. Even so, his head was higher than Spark’s. “So now we wait.”

  Spark rested her tiny hand over his large, armored one, but she addressed me. “Do you have a plan for what’s next?”

  Amelia hadn’t given me any instructions on how much to tell Spark. I hoped I wasn’t doing the wrong thing, being honest. “We haven’t had a chance to discuss the next steps yet. I had a contact inside one of the Jansynian corporations, but I’ve lost touch with her and I’m not sure how to find her. Although I’m going to try. And I’m sure Amelia has plans for other routes of investigation. We’re going to do our best to give them a better option than assassination.”

  I’d worried they might take my past involvements with Jansynians the wrong way. It wouldn’t have been a bit unreasonable for them to be suspicious of anyone who had friends or former friends up in the Crescent.

  Neither Spark nor Vogg looked upset by this information. Spark even smiled at me. “That would be extraordinary. Thank you. I told Copper she was wrong about you.”

  “Wrong? What did she say?”

  Spark’s voice was a mix of fondness and exasperation. “Copper, she thinks she knows everything. Just because she’s older…” Spark sighed. “We had one of your people—a priest of Kaifail who would pass through my home town when I was a girl. A sweet old woman, full of stories. My mother always said you could trust Kaifail’s priests with the children, but not with the blueprints, if you get what I’m saying.”

  “No,” I answered honestly.

  Spark waggled one overlong finger at me, in obvious imitation of her mother. “Storytellers and dreamers,” she said, her voice low and serious. She smiled and was herself again. “Mother never trusted anyone who didn’t work with their hands. And Copper takes after her.”

  “I’m not sure your mother was wrong,” I conceded. “Once. But these days—”

  Iris popped her head in the door. “C’mon, Ash. Time to go.”

  I stood. “Will you be okay?” I asked Spark.

  “That’s the hope, isn’t it?” She smiled at me. “Stay safe, Ash. And thank you.”

  #

  Kaifail was a wanderer. He loved this world and all the creatures in it. He travelled all over, always in disguise. As one of his own priests, as an old man in need, as a kid discovering freedom on the road. Always, he told stories.

  There are innumerable tales of people who met Kaifail on a high mountain road, on a dark forest path, on a deserted city street. He would sit and talk, swap whatever tales they had to tell. Sometimes he would offer wisdom. Sometimes he would point them towards grand adventures. Other times he would strike his companions blind or deaf, or cripple them with some horrible disease. Kaifail always rewarded like with like, all based on how they treated him.

  A great many priests were wanderers as well, bright and dark alike. Storytellers, healers, men and women questing for secrets in the farthest corners of the world. It made them easy targets when everything fell apart.

  I had never understood that mindset. I liked having friends, family. A place that I knew and people that I loved. I’d spent months obsessing over the fact I’d lost all that, and maybe in doing so blinded myself to the fact I wasn’t as alone as I thought. Working with Iris and Josiah and Vivian tonight, I felt a part of something. Something real. Something worthwhile.

  Like I’d been wandering, lost, and was finally coming home again.

  Iris walked with me to the tube station. “You did good,” she said. “But now the hard part starts.”

  “See, that’s what I thought. But Vivian was trying to convince me it’s all smooth sailing from here.”

  She laughed. “Get some sleep. You earned it.” With fluid ease, she changed back into a falcon and took off.

  At this time of night, the tube station was near empty. I ran my card through the scanner, and sat down on one of the concrete benches alongside the track. Exhaustion hit me in a sudden wave. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall, wished I were already home and in bed.

  “What did you find out?”

  I opened my eyes. Sitting next to me on the bench, a man in a dark suit. His light skin marked him as a stranger to Miroc, and I’d certa
inly never seen him before.

  Or had I? He almost looked familiar. Something poking at the back of my mind. “Excuse me?”

  “Your client. Who is she?”

  “How do you know—who are you?”

  I meant to stand, to move away, but he touched my hand, saying. “It’s all right, Joshua Drake, you can tell me.”

  Warmth spread through my skin from that point of contact. Of course I could talk to him. “Spark. That’s who we’re hiding. She’s a daughter of Fyea, along with her son of Torin bodyguard.”

  He let go of my hand and crossed his arms, leaned back against the wall. “What could they want with her?”

  “She doesn’t know. It’s not like most times when they steal an idea—”

  His head whipped around to look at me. “Idea? What idea?”

  “Something that could bring rain to the city.” No question I was tired. I didn’t feel any of the excitement this should have created. I didn’t feel much of anything right now. “She said it’s better they have it—that they have the resources to get it done and she doesn’t. But it doesn’t explain why they’re suddenly trying to kill her.”

  “Who stole it?” he asked. “Which company?”

  “We don’t know.” Now I thought about it, that was odd. “The car that chased us tonight—it didn’t have any corporate markings. That’s strange.”

  “Indeed. Enough to make one suspicious.” Suspicious of what, he didn’t say. A bright light washed across his face and he stood. “Your train is here.”

  The noise of it shook the ground. I jumped up, feeling that jolt of artificial energy follows an interrupted nap. I was more tired than I thought if I’d fallen asleep in the tube station at this time of night. My good luck I was alone, but I’d thought my survival instincts stronger.

  After that lapse, I was extra careful getting on the train, walking halfway up the line to find a car that still had several people on it. I moved toward a bench in front of four chattering teenagers in fancy dress and reeking of alcohol. I knew they’d be getting off well before my stop, but the silent boneheads across from me were probably heading to my neighborhood.

  The kids ignored me, but one of the boneheads swiveled his head around, following my progress with his eyeless, expressionless face. I couldn’t tell if he was suspicious, curious, or trying to be friendly. Once I’d settled, he went back to staring—or whatever—straight ahead like his friend.

  Just another night on the Miroc blue line.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Kidnapped

  Water. Everything was about water.

  Miroc was a planned city. Young, compared to Tala or most of the other big cities in the world. It grew up in a part of the desert unclaimed and untouched by any of the local tribes, became a trade hub, a crossroads, a haven for those who wanted away from the stricter, church-controlled cities and towns.

  Water was a problem from the beginning, but a solvable one. Rain in the desert? A simple task for the Oulirians, the bird priests, back in the days when their goddess answered their calls. The Oulirians were proud, beholden to no one, but there are those born to every race who are motivated by greed.

  The Miroc founders were men and women who wanted away from people looking over their shoulders, and they had the money to make that happen. But they weren’t so short-sighted as to rely entirely on the fickle Oulirians. They constructed a reservoir—one of the greatest civil engineering projects the world had ever seen. A great dam just outside the city, a canyon in the desert hills expanded, a retractable metal dome larger even than the one over the Crescent, to keep the water from blowing away in the desert wind. Large enough that when it was full, it could provide for the city for years.

  The trouble was, it had been years. Two since the Abandon, since the last time rain fell on the city. The reservoir wasn’t empty yet, but if we didn’t get rain soon…

  Spark’s invention—if it could work—that was our hope. But someone had to make it work. Either the Jansynians or someone closer to home, it didn’t matter. As long as someone made it rain again, we’d be okay.

  Or so I believed.

  I dragged into work late the next morning. After the day I’d put in yesterday, I figured Amelia owed me a couple extra hours of sleep. Blessedly, my night had been nightmare free.

  I’d only just arrived at my office and set my bag down when the intercom came to life. “Ash,” Amelia’s voice crackled, “come see me.”

  I stopped in her doorway and stifled a yawn. Amelia had her back to me, standing at the touch-screen display on the back wall. On it, the map of Miroc I’d seen last night, only now sprinkled with red and yellow splotches. “What’s that?” I asked.

  “A different project.” Amelia pressed her hand against the screen and it went dark. “Nothing you need to worry about right now.”

  As though curiosity could be sated with such assurances. But Amelia’s whole being radiated impatience this morning. Not the time to argue. “So what should I be worried about?”

  With a swipe of her finger, Amelia brought up a picture of the Crescent. “You did a good job last night. Vivian gave a full report. I’m impressed.” She turned to face me. “But we’ve only just gotten started. We need Spark’s invention up and running, and fast.”

  “How fast?” I asked the question despite being sure I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “The council’s kept this information secure, but it’s only a matter of time before it gets out. At current rationing levels, Miroc has about another four months. Maybe less.”

  I thought of the reservoir, so closely guarded. Of the protesters—the Children of Miroc, especially—who were convinced the council was keeping vast stores of water hidden and out of reach of the people who needed it.

  As if she read my mind, Amelia swiped the screen again to bring up a man’s face. This one I recognized. “That’s one of the Children of Miroc. I’ve seen him on the news.”

  “He’s the other side of our problem. This is what Iris has been working on, but I’m afraid it’s going to have bearing on your case as well.”

  She pulled up a collage of images, pointing to them as she talked. “This is the murder investigation Copper told you about, the one we’ve been working on. About a month ago, we were brought in to investigate. The aide of a prominent city council member was found dead in his home. Shot.” She tapped the first picture she’d brought up, the leader of the protesters.

  “Evidence pointed us to the Children of Miroc.” She circled several news shots of masses of people in the street, obviously shouting. “You’ve seen their protests. We think they’ve been plotting worse.”

  The last picture was familiar to me. A publicity photo that had gone around several months ago. The city council, seated around a table, working hard to solve Miroc’s problems. “Last night, an actual city councilor died.”

  I took a guess. “It was the councilor who’d been talking to Copper and Spark. The one whose aide was killed.”

  Amelia nodded approval. “This time, no obvious cause of death. But I don’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

  She swiped the screen blank, then sat on the edge of her desk, facing me. “We need to know precisely when Spark took her proposal to the council. We need to know every single person she and Copper talked to.”

  I thought I could see where this was going. “But it’s the Jansynians who are after Spark. If you think the Children of Miroc are responsible for the council murders—”

  Amelia shook her head, her disappointed expression silencing me. “Think harder. We’ve got a volatile group of angry people, growing by the day. We’ve got the council trying to hold the city together. But what if someone on the outside is trying to manipulate the situation, trying to prod them into outright violence against each other?”

  The Jansynians had tried to kill Spark. They obviously weren’t above assassination attempts. Planting evidence was certainly something they could and would do. The only question was: “Why? What d
o they gain if the city falls apart?”

  “I don’t know.” Amelia crossed her arms, frowning, but this time, not at me. “But especially given what Spark said about the rain project suddenly not moving forward—it all looks suspicious.”

  Suspicious maybe, but it didn’t make any sense. I opened my mouth to argue, but second thoughts held me back. What did I really know? Just because I’d been with Seana didn’t mean I understood all Jansynians everywhere. And even if I couldn’t see the profit in them trying to tear Miroc apart, that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked.

  “Continue the investigation. Get answers to the questions I asked and anything else Spark and Copper know about the Jansynians.”

  Easy enough. Except for the fact I’d be trying to sneak around under the nose of the people who knew everything, saw everything, and last night had demonstrated a willingness to kill.

  I called Micah. As soon as possible, we were going to have to figure out a safer way to get in touch with each other. I told him we needed to meet.

  “No problem,” he said. “Meet me in a couple hours, the same place as before.”

  “Is that safe? After last night?”

  “We won’t be staying.” He hung up.

  I found Iris in the library again, a ginger cat curled up on the rug. Her head lifted as I came into the room and she shifted back to person-shape, although her hair retained the cat’s orange and white stripes. I held in my laugh.

  “Amelia told me she was sending you back out.” Her skin moved through several shades before settling into a deep-desert brown that actually worked with the orange. “You up for this?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea. Any chance you could back me up?”

  She stretched, still moving like a cat. “I can meet you over there in a bit. I’ve got a couple things of my own to take care of this morning.”

  “The city council thing?”

  “Yeah. It’s gotten complicated. Threats of…” She put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “Nothing you need to worry about. You’ve got plenty to keep you busy.”