by S. Cushaway
Neiro wanted to laugh at the sight of Evrik Niles fidgeting in his chair like a scolded child. The bearded man shot a hateful look at the Scrapper commander, then smirked. “Well, what you do with Pirahj and the Scrappers is your business. I’m here about my concerns about this Coalition and how it’ll affect Glasstown. My town.”
Dramen Frell grunted, his square jaw set in a hard line. “So long as the rise of this new Pirahj doesn’t follow any of the Sulari practices of slavery or forced employment otherwise, the Union would back such a cause. As to Evrik Niles’s statement . . .” He turned in his chair, leaning past Printz to stare at the smaller man. “If this Coalition wants the support of the Junkers’ Union, there’s going to be none of that horse crap about the Enetic kin not being treated as well as any Estarian or Pihranese citizen. In any of the border towns under Avaeliis jurisdiction.”
Niles grinned nastily. “Well, damn, I guess I can’t go against the fucking Coalition, can I?”
Caught you and your buddy Aurlin right by your balls, didn’t I, Niles? You won’t stay in charge of Glasstown for long, not after I put in a word to Avaeliis to have you removed.
Neiro cleared his throat. “This Coalition is meant to benefit all of us and the entirety of the population here in the Shy’war-Anquai, scant as it is. The Harpers will have a say in this as well, though unfortunately Moad is going to be late and I’ll have to relay messages from the Citadel later this week.”
He motioned Viyr to serve a round of water. The other four men eyed the Mechinae with obvious unease as he filled the glasses. Niles in particular seemed unnerved. When Viyr fixed his empty neon stare on the young border mayor, Niles looked as though he wanted to slide right out of his seat and run for the door. Neiro’s heart swelled with a melancholic joy.
“Thank you, Viyr.” He sipped the water. “Now. There are only a few more topics of discussion. Let’s talk water rationing, shall we? I’ve prepared a report here as well as the new mandate from the Avaeliis Syndicate. If you gentlemen will care to look it over while I explain some of the more technical terms.” He opened the drawer and produced a thin, transparent sheet, carefully rolled. Smoothing it out against the desk, he brushed it free of dust. “Viyr, please open the mandate and reports.”
The Neuro-Cyth on the Mechinae’s head flashed as his Shelfing—the hardware implanted into his brain—activated. The display rippled as if a drop of water had broken its invisible surface before a full chart materialized. A Veraleid logo beamed up at the five men. Even Evrik Niles looked impressed.
And if you think that’s something, Niles, you should see what Viyr could do to your brain if I ordered him to.
“Now then, as you can see here. . .” Neiro tapped the glowing chart. “The projected snowfall in the Senbehi over the winter months is down four percent from last year—”
There’d be nothing left of your mind when he got through with it. Every neuron charred, every cell dead. And if you interrupt this meeting one more time . . .
But Evrik Niles did not open his mouth for the remainder of the meeting, to interrupt or comment otherwise.
Forked Tongue
Darkness pressed around their little camp. Overhead, the stars twinkled like faraway diamonds against the black velvet of the sky. Beyond the small fire, a cold line of frost glittered on the Draggin’s roll cage. On the other side of the coals, Romano draped a blanket over his head like a hood. Kaitar, dressed in his heavy threk-hide duster, sat smoking. He’d said not a word for most of the afternoon. His silence irked Leigh, though she couldn’t say why. She preferred to work in silence herself, focusing on the task at hand, keeping company with her inner thoughts. Now, she longed for some sound other than the crackle of fire and the chirping of sand crickets.
Missing the barracks and the other Enforcers more than she thought possible, Leigh shivered as she pulled her yalei around her shoulders. “We need to take turns on lookout tonight. I’ll go first, then Romano. Kaitar, you take last watch. You said you haven’t had much sleep, so this is your chance.”
Romano blinked. “Now, wait a minute. Neiro didn’t say anything about this. He said it was my job to get you guys to Pirahj as fast as possible. There was nothing about being a lookout or staying up half the night.” He yawned. “Driving for that long is tedious.”
Leigh peered at the Junker from under the brim of her ranging hat, wanting to kick sand into his smile. “Neiro also said I’m in charge out here. We are technically still in Dogton territory, but there could be bandits or squatters camping nearby.”
“But there aren’t any bandits,” Romano said. “And even if there are a few squatters, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack anyone with guns. Kaitar’s got a revolver and his knives, I’ve got a pistol, and you’ve got a Firebrand.”
“I’m saving these Firebrand cells for if we really need it.” Wondering if he would fight every order, Leigh swallowed a sour lump of frustration. She sighed. “Romano, if we take turns on lookout, we can be sure I won’t have to waste shots scaring off some squatter. It’s only for two or three hours, and only for a few nights. We need your help to stay safe out here, contract or not.”
“Do you really think it’s necessary, though? Listen, I know you’re trying to be a good leader and everything, but you’re going overboard.”
For all the Junkers’ talk about equality and fairness, you still don’t like to take orders from a woman, do you?
“Listen to her,” Kaitar said, cigarette still clamped between his lips. “The desert is no joke. I told you that earlier, and if you won’t listen to Leigh, listen to me. If I had my mule with us, she could warn us if anything was creeping around out there. But she’s not here, so we have to watch for ourselves.” Smoke rolled from his nose as he exhaled. “The desert will kill any creature that’s sick, slow, or stupid, and you never know when a band of squatters will be desperate enough to try anything for a drink of water.”
The Junker rolled his eyes. “Fine, but nothing is going to happen. Never did on any of our breakdown runs.”
Leigh motioned to the darkness beyond the fire. “This isn’t a breakdown run. We aren’t here with a dozen Junkers and a fleet of rovers. There’s nothing between us and the desert, Romano.” She tilted her head and spoke more softly. “That reminds me. Do you know how long we have to drive until we reach the Old Tree Well? I’m no good at judging distances,” she lied.
“Oh . . . yeah, sure, let me think a minute.”
Kaitar shot her a look, pupils dilated wide. Leigh had the distinct impression he knew exactly what she was up to, even if the Junker did not.
And look at you light up having to explain something to a stupid woman, Romano. Would you believe how many times playing stupid saved me a beating, I wonder?
But she only nodded, forcing a tight smile. “All right, thank you.”
“Sure, it’s fine. We came about seventy-five miles today in nine hours of driving,” Romano mused. “Like I said, that’s not very good time, but this region is hell to take a rover through. I’ve heard the land levels out a bit not far from Pointe Rock, past the Old Tree Well. We’ll have to drive all of tomorrow, then we’ll hit it the next morning pretty early, so long as nothing goes wrong. Hey, Katey, isn’t that near where the Sulari used to have the fighting pits?”
“Yes. The Sun Plaza is a bit north of the Old Tree Well,” Kaitar muttered, peering into the fire. “The scrub country is one place a good mule will serve you better than anything with wheels. They can go places a rover can’t. If Gren had learned to ride, he might have escaped that ambush. A mule or horse would have smelled or heard trouble.”
“Let’s not argue about what can’t be changed.” Leigh wished he would stop mentioning his damned mule. Another frustration to swallow. “Is it true, though, that the land levels out west of the Old Tree Well? I haven’t been that far on a ranging yet.”
“Uh-huh. Flat country from there until Pirahj. It’s mostly east and south you hit a lot of gullies and hills. Fro
m Pirahj, I suppose I’ll be tracking ahead with the Scrapper scout to make sure no one’s waiting for us near Bywater Gully. We’ll want to go in from the south, probably. Not the north . . . Bywater gully would be too steep for a whole damned fleet of rovers. Go east and you’re bottlenecking yourself up for an ambush between the Senbehi and Bywater itself. If we go in from the west, they’d spot us coming and have time to run. Has to be south with that big a team.”
Encouraged by his cooperation, Leigh tugged the VDA from her pocket, pointing at the screen as it came to life. “Let’s mark that route. Viyr’s got all the scout maps open. There’s a long line of dunes that slope from the south, but it’s clear otherwise?” She looked to Kaitar for confirmation.
“Yes, it’s closer to the southeastern edge of the Sand Belt. The good news is I haven’t seen Shyiine coming across the Belt since that attack on Nal'ves, so we won’t have to worry about trouble from them, at least.”
Leigh stiffened. In her mind’s eye, she saw red. Red yalei, arrows tipped with crimson blood, eyes gleaming against the rosy dawn as Nal’ves burned.
No, don’t think about it. Don’t think about that morning . . . not now.
“That’s . . . fortunate,” she managed. “The squatters in Bywater might not pose much threat if we have Scrappers with us, but even Scrappers do not like to go up against a Shyiine war party.”
Please let the Shyiine stay across the Belt forever. Please let them all be dead or gone or—
Kaitar interrupted that silent plea. “I’m more worried about a storm blowing in. Even if we don’t have to get too close to the Belt, the storms might roll right over us. If that happens, we’ll have to wait it out.” He flicked ash from his cigarette. “Can’t track squatters or spot an ambush in a sandstorm.”
Your Shyiine kin came through just after a sandstorm. They tracked through it, Kaitar.
“You ever been across it, Katey?” Romano’s blanket fell from his head to bunch around his shoulders. “The Sand Belt, I mean. You’re Shyiine, you could survive the trip.”
“No reason to, at least not yet. I’ve got a feeling Neiro will be sending someone one of these days to map it and find that big piece of Toros out there, but . . .” The scout shrugged. “I hope it’s not me he sends. Though, I guess I'm the likely candidate. Heh.”
Leigh wondered why he’d said that. The few times she’d heard Kaitar Besh speak during her five years as an Enforcer, he’d complained about wanting to quit. The Shyiine might be happy to have him back, and no one in Dogton would miss him much, with the possible exception of Mi’et.
She stood, brushing sand from her yalei before moving to the rover to find another firebox. The small, rectangular cube was smooth and cool to the touch, but the chemicals inside would burn longer than bone-dry scrub or acacia. Leigh tossed it in Romano’s lap as she strode past. “I’m going on watch.”
“Going to go through with this, huh?”
“I don’t have any reason to shirk my duties just because the captain isn’t here to remind me of them.”
“Take a cell light,” Romano suggested. He set the firebox aside and crawled into the canvas pup tent. “I have one packed in the rover.”
“Thank you. Yes, I’ll take it with me.” She glanced at Kaitar, who hadn’t moved. He didn’t seem inclined to sleep, as tired as he’d complained of being all day. Firelight played across his lean face, casting a shadow from his sharp nose and grim mouth. He met her look, his expression impassive, stony.
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long drive.” Leigh turned away, not waiting to see if the scout had an answer to that or if he was just going to sit and stare all night.
After grabbing the cell light and flicking it on, comforted by the way the white light cut into the black beyond camp, she made her way to a line of scrub a hundred yards from the fire. She sat with her back against the decrepit stump of a long-dead acacia. Within moments, the real chill of the desert settled into her bones. She began to wish she’d grabbed a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. As she exhaled, her breath came in frosty, glittering plumes. Overhead, the half-moon drifted against the starry backdrop. Leigh flicked the cell light on again, swept the dark expanse around her, and saw nothing more interesting than a large, white spider moving along in an eight-legged march. Its long, strange shadow danced across the sand and vanished behind a rock.
She flicked the switch off. Blackness enveloped her. The little campfire seemed the only beacon of light in the entire world, and she could just make out Romano’s boots peeking from the small tent. Kaitar sat against the rover, eyes closed, the collar of his duster pulled over his nose. A hand rested on the hilt of one yatreg, sheathed low at his belt.
Turning her attention to the desert, Leigh thought of Gren Turren, of what he must be experiencing in Bywater. Those images were not pretty ones; if Bywater was anything like the place she’d grown up, he might not live to see his rescuers arrive. Her fingers twitched against the sand as she resisted the urge to jump up, march back to camp, and order Romano and Kaitar to get ready for an all-night drive.
No, we have to rest awhile. It’s too dangerous to drive in the dark, anyway. We could smash right to the bottom of a ravine.
She thought of home. Not Dogton, but the home she’d known in her youth—Nal’ves. They’d named their pitiful town after a great Pihranese hero, trying to convince themselves it was a grand place full of grand people, not just some ragtag bunch of squatters trying to beat out a living in the sand. Sulari refugees—those Pihranese from the highest caste who had ruled the desert for so many generations— had made up a large part of the Nal’ves squatters. There had been Estarian outlaws, too. Even some Pihranese commoners settled there, still loyal to the Sulari regime and distrustful of the new border mayors with their Estarian lineage.
But there had never been enough food or water in Nal’ves. Not for those of Sulari blood, not for the regular Pihranese folk, not for outlaws.
Not for anyone.
“We will rise again. Mark my words, Leih’aja. We are of the Sulari, and we will rise again.” Over and over her father had muttered that phrase, smiling, his mind sliding ever further into madness. It must have been a beautiful smile once, she supposed, gleaming white against his blue-black skin. But his teeth had rotted and fallen out and his strong features turned gaunt, the beautiful complexion withered and dry.
Her mother’s voice pushed its way into her thoughts, too. “You must do your duty, my daughter, and marry one of Sulari blood so the new empire will rise, strong and pure, as before. Before the Estarians came, and before our enemies worked to topple us.” Long-suffering Mother, so stern, her carved features twisted by hate, and her eyes shadowed with pain. Hers had been the agony of a highborn woman reduced to picking through scraps and drinking what the Estarians called “Sulari tea”—urine, mixed with what little fresh water could be found to make it drinkable.
Siat-rahl had been the husband her parents had selected, one of the few Sulari men with blood pure enough to satisfy tradition. One who could beget sons, for several of Nal’ves women had bastard children by him. It mattered little to her mother or father that Siat-rahl enjoyed beating his new wife, inside and out. Such hardships were for a Sulari noblewoman to bear with dignity.
Leigh rubbed her eyes. She would not mourn those memories, tinged with love for her parents and anger over their betrayal. She could not cry for them, herself, or those lost when the Shyiine had burned Nal’ves. Not now.
Kaitar Besh is right about one thing . . . we Sulari do not seem to have much in the way of mercy for enemies.
A tiny voice breathed through the bulk of that heavy thought. “Or each other.”
A high, raspy screech rang out, trailing off into a shivering hiss. Leigh pulled her hands from her face, her heart drumming in the brief silence. Another shriek tore the night, unmistakable.
Threk.
She had to get back to camp. The threk might pick up her scent or wander close to where Romano and
Kaitar slept. The beasts didn’t like fire, but it might not hold them at bay for long if they were hungry enough.
Gathering her legs beneath her, she rocked to her heels, teeth clenched as her leather jacket squeaked. Nearby—no more than sixty or seventy feet—a shovel-nosed antelope bleated, frightened. A hiss followed, soft and low. Two eyes flashed, bright as lanterns, before vanishing in the darkness. The antelope’s bleating took on a frantic note, punctuated by the crackle of dead wood. The animal’s wavering cry fell away, drowned out by the triumphant shriek of another threk. A big one.
The crickets stopped their nocturnal serenade. Leigh’s pulse raced and her mouth went dry as she reached for her Firebrand. Her hand slid along the cool rubber grip and brushed against the switch. She flicked it on. The soft hum of charged Firebrand cells gave a small measure of comfort. She pushed herself up and waited, listening. The snap of a bone—the antelope’s, no doubt—broke the silence, as loud as a gunshot.
Where are they? Over there. Two of them. How can Zres chase those things away from the water-fields?
She’d seen threk before, but always from a distance, and never when alone. Nor had any been so big. Her fingers twitched with the urge to raise her weapon and fire at the faint outlines, no more than a stone’s throw away.
“They’re smart, Leigh.” Orin’s voice rang in her head as clearly as if he’d been standing next to her. “And fast. Enetics, same as a Shyiine or Drahgur, just not the human kind. All full of synthetic Toros DNA, or whatever the big shots in Avaeliis call it. Regular revolvers and rifles work on them, but if they catch whiff of a Firebrand cell aimed at them, you can kiss your ass goodbye.”
Leigh sucked in her breath, willing her heart to slow its mad beating. She counted to ten, flicked the weapon off, and began inching her way through darkness.
Why didn’t I take Romano’s revolver with me instead of the Firebrand? Why didn’t I think to ask him for—
The toe of her right boot collided against a rock, and the resounding thud made her wince.
