Iron Gods

by Andrew Bannister

  Nod. The operatives must have changed their aim, somehow finding some part of him that had not yet been seared, ground, fractured, punctured, outraged. Yellow brightened towards white, became all-encompassing. He heard himself raving, roaring. Inhuman sounds. They were wrong, there was escape, he could see it, it blotted out the man and the stool and the wall, it was a core of black in the blinding white; he could feel himself dropping towards it. He reached out to it from the remains of his mind.

  ‘Abort.’

  It stopped. Everything stopped. Vision returned. The man on the stool was sitting dead upright with a listening expression on his face. Then he nodded, but this time as if to himself, and looked at Vess.

  ‘Goodbye,’ he said. And he and the stool and the wall were gone.

  Vess sat up, and nothing impeded him. He blinked, and felt his eyes moistened by proper tears. He looked around, feeling a breeze touch different parts of his face as he moved. The breeze smelled familiar: canals and Basin Lilies and the tiniest hint of cylinder oil and something else, something he couldn’t place for the moment. There were canals in the distance but, and he shook his head, they were all below him. That didn’t make sense.

  A voice behind him said, ‘Hello, Harbour Master.’

  Then he realized. The smell he couldn’t identify was tobacco smoke. It was just that he had never smelled it fresh before. He was in Basin City, and for the first time in his life he was seeing it from the Cloud Deck, and the voice behind him belonged to Alst Or-Shls.

  He hadn’t realized it before but somehow, fixed in the chair with the wall to look at, he had not been frightened.

  Now, he was terrified.

  Three Quarter Circle Harbour

  THE YOUNG MAN turned out to be a fast healer. On the second morning he sat up and squinted at her. ‘I can see,’ he said.

  Seldyan grinned. ‘And you can talk. I’m Seldyan and this is Bis. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Belbis the …’ He hesitated. ‘I’m Belbis.’

  ‘Belbis the something secret? Okay.’ Seldyan studied his face. On an impulse she said, ‘You know what you are? Belbis the safe. She kept you alive, I mended you. So you can say whatever you like – or nothing at all. It’s up to you.’

  She turned away before he could respond. Over her shoulder she added, ‘Think about it. I’ve got things to do.’

  That was true. It was just that she didn’t want to do them.

  Bis had told her something about the young man, but it had been from a child’s perspective – a child who had been dancing to a tune she recognized. But this was different; she doubted she would ever know everything that had passed between Bis and the man in the cellar, but she could guess.

  She had considered killing the man out of hand, but something had held her back. Now she was glad of it.

  She walked carefully down the steps, holding the stunner out in front of her and sparing her injured foot as much load as she could. Then she squatted down, out of reach, keeping one hand behind her back.

  He was conscious. The eyes were watchful beads surrounded by pouches of sagging flesh, and one hand still worked at the injured leg. He stank of stale drink and fresh faeces.

  Seldyan nodded at the leg. ‘Feeling anything?’

  ‘Go shit yourself.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘It smells like you got there first. The stun should be wearing off by now. Guess your leg’s starting to hurt.’

  He clamped his mouth shut but his eyes flickered, and his hand clenched at the bloodied cloth above his knee.

  She nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. And brought round the hand from behind her back so he could see the short knobby staff.

  The man flinched, and that decided Seldyan more than anything, because Bis had flinched in the same way when she had seen it.

  ‘This is for Bis,’ she said, and brought it down on his knee.

  Something crunched.

  His shriek made her ears whistle. She waited until he had quietened, and then raised the stick again. ‘I should kill you,’ she said. ‘For all the bruises I can see on that little girl, and all the ones I can’t, and for that plank full of nails that was meant for her – I should kill you.’

  His mouth was open, but the only thing coming out was drool; a yellowish thread dangled from his chin and snapped.

  She shook her head, more at herself than at him, and dropped the staff. ‘Okay, you get to live a while. Tell me what happened to this place.’

  The eyes became calculating. ‘If I do?’

  She raised the staff. ‘Think about if you don’t.’

  They glared at each other for a moment. Then his eyes slid away. ‘I heard him,’ he said.

  She blinked. ‘Who?’

  ‘Him.’ He took his hand from his knee and pointed upwards. ‘The idiot. You brought him here.’

  ‘How’s he an idiot?’

  He laughed, a rasp that buried itself in a wet cough that took too long to stop. She watched him for a moment, then asked, ‘Have you had that long?’

  He spat and wiped his mouth; even that seemed to cost him more breath than he had. ‘Long enough. You know what you hear?’

  ‘I think so.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘Maybe we can make a different bargain. Maybe I have something you want.’

  He watched her for a dozen heartbeats. Then something in his face relaxed. ‘Maybe you do. You brought the idiot back. Ask him; it’s his fault.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Like I told you. Ask him.’ He shook his head. ‘All he had to do was go up the mountain and paint the fucking Gods right. He couldn’t even do that. So the light starts, and everything fucks up. His fault. So they scraped his feet so the worms could get him and shoved him somewhere to die. And you had to save him.’

  ‘What about the bodies?’

  He laughed again. ‘The priests said the light meant the end of the world. People got angry and pretty soon all the priests were dead. Then the bodies started to stink. Easier to hook them on the ice line than burn them, the Merchants said, but then the line stopped.’ He coughed and spat, his face twisting. ‘So they burned them after all. There was a spark, and half the town burned with them. Now I’m done. Ask the idiot the rest. Do what you like.’

  She nodded. ‘You need to know this isn’t a gift,’ she said. ‘It’s justice.’

  She had expected him to turn his face away, but he held her eyes while she extended the stunner, while she powered it up, and while she held down the stud for charge after charge until the little thing became hot in her hand. Even when she was sure he was dead, his eyes stayed open.

  Then she stood up, slipped the stunner back in her pouch, and climbed the steps without looking back. Upstairs, she faced Belbis. ‘I think I got lucky,’ she said. ‘I think you’re what I came looking for.’

  Bis tugged at her waist. ‘Him,’ she said, and pointed towards the steps. It was a question.

  Seldyan reached down and squeezed her hand. ‘He was very ill.’

  The girl smiled. It was the first proper smile Seldyan had seen from her.

  Seldyan laboured up the slope, crested the ridge and looked up at the peak ahead of her. Another couple of days, she guessed, if they could keep up a reasonable speed.

  That was a big if. She pushed the stick she had cut for herself hard against the ground and lifted her foot.

  They had been walking for eight days and she had learned several things. The first was that now he was fully recovered Belbis was very fit. His face had filled out and he had shaved off his beard, and she realized he was much younger than she had thought, not far out of childhood. He had all the leggy stamina that went with it.

  Second was that he was utterly unwelcome, anywhere.

  It had been the morning of their third day. Seldyan had pointed to a group of buildings, huddled at the base of a steep rise a few hundred paces from their path. ‘Look. Would they have helped you, when you were making the walk before?’

  He
peered at the buildings and then at the rough grass near the path. ‘Yes. Look there.’

  He was pointing at a little hollow in a half-circle of stones that looked deliberate. There was a scrap of coarse cloth.

  She nodded. ‘Supplies?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perhaps they’ll have something for us now.’ She marched off towards the buildings. After a moment, quick footsteps told her he was following.

  When she judged they were within earshot she stopped and cupped her hands to her mouth. ‘Hello?’

  There was no answer, but movement caught her eye; someone had opened an upper window.

  She tried again. ‘Hello? Can you hear me?’

  There was a noise like something sliding open. Beside her she felt Belbis tensing.

  Then something erupted from a low block at the edge of the settlement and headed towards them – a low, streamlined, four-legged shape that ran fast and in silence. Even at this distance she could see teeth.

  Seldyan turned to Belbis, but he was already running. She followed, sprinting up the rough slope with her pack thumping at the small of her back. From behind she heard a high whistle and a wordless call; she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the animal standing, head raised, much closer than it had been. She corrected ‘fast’ to ‘very fast’. Someone was standing between it and the buildings – a bulky bearded figure with his hands on his hips. As she watched he raised them to his mouth and cupped them.

  ‘Take the idiot away or Leap’ll have your throat. Understand? And you’ll get the same from everyone. Plenty of townsfolk came up here after the fires. I’ll tell ’em.’

  Seldyan shrugged and hefted her pack. ‘Come on, Belbis. We’ve got enough.’

  They walked back to the path.

  Later that day her foot started to hurt. When they stopped for the night she pulled off the sabot cautiously and saw blood. She supposed she must have opened the wound when she had run. She put the sabot back on before Belbis could see.

  Now, five days later, and no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, she was in trouble.

  She hadn’t taken the sabot off for three nights. Last night, for the first time, and exhausted as she was, she hadn’t been able to sleep. She had lain on her back, trying to find a position where the throbbing was muted, and looking at the green beam that lanced up from the mountain top. The clouds had cleared a few days ago and the light that had started a religion in Web City, and seemed to have ended one here, was the only thing to look at.

  Belbis slept with his face buried in the curl of his arm, eyes firmly downwards. Apparently it was traditional.

  By morning her ankle was beginning to swell.

  She fought on upwards. The route was getting narrower the higher they went, and the rocky bones of the mountain were exposed as scree slopes and stream beds. The water in them was bitter – an ice-fed cold that felt like scalding; when they stopped for a rest and a mouthful of their remaining food she sat with her foot under the surface until all the feeling was gone. It stayed gone for an hour or so. Then it came back worse, as if every step drove the spikes into her flesh all over again.

  She looked for Belbis and found him standing a dozen paces in front of her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I need to rest. Not long. If I sleep, will you wake me?’

  He looked confused for a second and then nodded. She had got used to that; if something was obvious he didn’t think it needed saying. She hoped the nod meant he was getting used to her.

  She managed to smile, and sat down. The grass here looked wiry but it made a dense, springy mat that was almost comfortable, if you were exhausted.

  She stretched out and concentrated on calming her breathing, which seemed far too shallow. More exercise. She needed to be fitter.

  Eventually she found a sort-of-sleep, but it was full of loud noises. Her foot was the loudest, a kind of bass beat that defined her world so thoroughly that she quickly forgot it in favour of everything else. There was the shrill protest of the clouds as they were sawn apart by the beam of light, which sounded so green that it was almost a smell, and then there was the sulphur-tasting groaning of the rocks under the weight of the mountain peak. The springiness of the grass hummed beneath her cheek, and Belbis, standing over her, was a silent, worried pressure like a hand on her shoulder.

  And again.

  She stirred and looked up. Belbis was crouching next to her, withdrawing his hand like an apology. ‘You said to wake you.’

  ‘I did. It’s fine.’ She got to her feet. He looked worried, so she checked herself.

  Better, in some ways. It almost was fine. She’d been feeling cold but that had faded, and her tiredness had been blunted by her sleep. She felt lighter. Her foot felt – different. Less painful, which was the main thing. Less of everything, really. Just sort of tight, and a bit less there than it had been.

  She shook off a faint disquiet. Even the slope looked less steep now, and the peak seemed nearer. Or further, it could be, but either way she wasn’t worried. She felt sure she could make it.

  She gave Belbis a reassuring grin. Then she turned to face the slope and took a big, easy step.

  The grass came up and hit her. Not in the face, in the chest. Somehow, her face was over nothing at all. Then her eyes focused and she realized it wasn’t nothing – it was just a long way away.

  She was looking down a cliff. She assumed she had been about to step over it, which was careless. She made a mental note and then tried to get up, but that didn’t work. She investigated; there were arms holding her.

  She turned her head as far as she could, briefly making the sky into a whirlpool. When it had stopped she was looking sideways at Belbis. ‘What happened?’

  He looked even more worried. ‘Very bad foot. Poisons reach your mind. You are dangerous.’

  ‘Ah.’ She was having trouble focusing on him. ‘I like being dangerous. Keep still.’

  ‘I am still. The world in your head moves. Wait.’

  She waited, and after a while things became more still. She realized he was watching her eyes, and watched him back until he smiled and let her go.

  She rolled over on to her back and the sky danced again. There was something she needed to say. She concentrated, and the words formed a line in her head. ‘Belbis? I don’t think I can stand up.’

  ‘I know. Be still.’

  His hands grasped her ankles and he pulled her away from the edge. The traction on her leg stabbed at her. Then he was looking into her eyes again. ‘There is something I must do. Will be bad, then worse, then better.’

  Then he took hold of her sabot and began to pull it off. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands and counted her thundering heartbeat.

  She had just passed a hundred when the pull stopped. She raised her head, blinked away tears and saw – well, she supposed it was her foot. The light seemed to be fading but the thing looked mostly black. There was a bad smell. She looked at Belbis. ‘Was that the bad or the worse?’

  ‘The bad. Worse is now. Very sorry.’ She saw a glint of green light reflecting off something in his hand, and she shut her eyes again.

  Then she screamed and screamed until the world went away.

  She thought she remembered waking several times, but each time she seemed to have managed to wake from one dream into another. The dreams all started different but sooner or later they ended up with her lying on her back under a glittering black sky with a green sword hanging above her belly.

  Finally she managed a dream where she wasn’t pinned down, and where the green sword pointed up into the sky. This dream also contained Belbis. She checked to see if he was holding anything sharp.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  She thought for a second. ‘Awake?’

  ‘Yes, awake. Head?’

  A slow shake made the world spin. ‘Bad.’

  ‘Expected. Foot?’

  ‘Oh.’ She hadn’t thought of that, which seemed to mean something. She invest
igated. ‘Nothing. Is that good?’

  ‘Good for now. Not good for long.’

  ‘Okay.’ Thinking was difficult. ‘What, then?’

  It was too dark to see his face, but somehow his silhouette against the green-lit dark was thoughtful. ‘Can you wait? Wait here, not move? Not try to fly down cliff?’

  Embarrassment stung her faintly through the fog in her head. ‘Promise.’

  ‘Good.’ He straightened up. ‘Going now – back with the sun. Remember promise.’

  And he was gone.

  She let her head fall back, and went back to her dreams.

  Cloud Deck (Restricted), Basin City

  THE TOTAL AREA of the Cloud Deck was about three square kilometres. That space was taken up by nine properties. They ranged in size from mere budget parcels of real estate covering only twenty thousand square metres or so – budget, in this case, meaning worth thirty lifetimes’ average income for someone like Vess – all the way up to vast landscaped tracts of coastline.

  Alst Or-Shls owned the biggest of all. Vess had once heard that he owned it outright, which was all but inconceivable. It was like saying that one individual owned the productive capacity of a major city. Which, in some ways, Or-Shls did.

  It was so beautiful that Vess actually managed to forget his terror for a while.

  There was a walkway along the edge of the estate. The Cloud Deck was a couple of metres of subsoil, capped with topsoil, on a foam alloy deck. Although it was the newest artefact in Basin City, it was still almost ten thousand years old, and the edges were eroding gently as the alloy corroded and crumbled. The walkway had originally been over solid ground, but now whole sections of it lay over nothing at all. Cool draughts blew up through the pierced metal.

  Vess wasn’t scared of heights. Or, better, he was far less scared of heights than he was of all the other things that might happen up here.

  Or-Shls walked slowly but with a sort of inevitability and an odd economy. Vess would have expected such a vast body to sway from side to side but somehow the man managed to contain all the balance within himself, as if he had some sort of internal compensating mechanism. For a while he had said nothing, seeming content to stroll along the edge of his territory with Vess at his side. Then he stopped and turned towards Vess. ‘I’m sorry there’s no view.’