by Isaac Hooke
Ordinarily there should have been twenty-five terminals in total on those iron desks, but because the Control Room wasn't big enough to fit the confines of the sewage tunnel, Tanner counted only twelve. The desks ran right up against the walls, where they ended abruptly, seeming to pass through the mudbrick.
Two grizzled old men—New Users—and three younger men—refugees?—manned five of the available terminals. One of the old men looked up, and Tanner recognized him as one of Cora's former guards. He was an ancient man, his face so ravaged from the years of vitra use that Tanner thought his tight skin might crack open from the slightest movement. He wore a gray cloak.
"You're expected." Gray-cloak nodded toward the exit.
"Thank you." Tanner made his way to the front of the room. He glanced back. "By the way, what happened to Cora?" He never had a chance to ask Hoodwink in the confusion that followed the fighting at the Black Den.
Gray-cloak blinked rapidly a few times. "Didn't make it."
Tanner stared numbly at the man, then turned away. He wasn't sure how he felt about Cora's death. He'd worn the woman's face when he and Ari had stolen the Control Room. He hadn't really known Ari's mother, but she seemed decent enough, a little crabby maybe. Ari would probably take the news hard when she came back.
If she came back.
Tanner tried not to think about Ari or Cora as he left the Control Room and entered the connecting tunnels. It proved easy enough because there were a lot of things to distract a troubled mind out here.
Refugees from the fighting rested against the walls, seated on the icy floor formed by the frozen sewage. That floor was a bit slushy from the traffic, and the place smelled terrible. Tall iron candelabras set at intervals provided light.
As he passed the seated men and women, he realized that they weren't refugees per se, but recruits. Every last one of them was uncollared. He'd seen that drained look they all wore before, that look of men and women who'd expended their vitra and were waiting to recharge. A few of them stared at their fingers wistfully, trying to summon vitra, managing to spark only bare wisps of electricity from hand to hand. Some nursed wounds that dripped blue blood, more evidence that their charge had run out.
He passed a sort of training ground where a New User in a green-cloak—he recognized the man as another of Cora's former guards—addressed a score of uncollared students of all ages. Green-cloak was standing before a target dummy, and saying something about being careful to conserve your charge when you threw vitra.
"Here, let me show you what I mean." Green-cloaked turned toward the target dummy and loosed a quick bolt of lightning. The target's head disintegrated. "You'll see that I let fly only a small amount of electricity, for the merest fraction of a second, but it was enough to take out my target's head. Because of my restraint, I still have the charge for twenty more such blows."
Tanner moved on.
He passed a queue of collared people lined up beside an executioner. At least, Tanner thought the man was an executioner because he oversaw a guillotine. The man wasn't wearing a hood though, or any clothing typical to executioners. He looked more like a blacksmith with those big, scarred arms.
A collared man was sealed away inside the headblock of the guillotine, and he trembled uncontrollably. Tanner watched in morbid fascination as the blade descended. When it struck, the steel only penetrated a quarter of the way through the top edge of the bronze bitch around his neck. The blacksmith raised the blade with the pulley system and tied it off.
"See, nothing to worry about!" The blacksmith told the pale man as he opened the headblock, though his words seemed more for the waiting queue behind. "The blade is dulled just enough so that it won't pass through." The blacksmith set his palm on the relieved man's bronze bitch, and sent a tiny burst of electricity into the newly-formed cracks. The collar broke away entirely. "Quick and painless, and completely safe."
Tanner noticed a red stain in the slush beneath the headblock, and he suspected the method wasn't always as painless and safe as the blacksmith let on.
Tanner soon came upon a series of partitions that divided the sewers into offices of sorts. It seemed to be the command center of the New Users, judging from the bustle of activity. Scouts relayed reports to older men and women. Messengers were dispatched. Others distributed swords and rations. The rations weren't really needed, since this was a simulation and everyone got their actual nutrients from the umbilicals on the Outside, but no one present knew that of course.
There were a few ordinary gols among the supply workers, Tanner noted with surprise. He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. They seemed amiable enough as they distributed items to the humans, though many of the recipients treated the gols with obvious contempt. Interesting.
A cloth map of the city caught Tanner's attention. Covered in red and green pegs, it was pinned to the mudbrick wall beside him.
Tanner flagged down a passing New User, and indicated the map. "What do the pegs mean?"
The elderly man shrugged. "Red represents intense fighting. Green the Safe Houses."
There were far more red pegs on the map than green, and most of those reds were congregated around the greens.
Tanner wondered why the New Users didn't just use the Control Room to handle their administrative activities, but he supposed the technology was still new to them. People in power were often distrustful of new technology. Though it was probably a good idea not to become too reliant on the Control Room anyway—who could say how far One's reach had become?
He found Jacob and Helen huddled around a table with Cap, Al and Briar. Jacob and Helen were the defacto leaders of the New Users in Ari's absence, and made a grizzled pair. Cap was the former leader of the Black Faction, the band that had ruled the Black Den before it fell to the Direwalkers, and Al was his second. Al also had the dubious distinction of being a former User, though he'd recollared himself ten years ago to escape the gols. Al was the one who had first introduced Hoodwink to the Users, and his daughter.
Then there was Briar. Ari's uncle. How the former merchant had inveigled his way into this group's confidence was anyone's guess. He was good at fawning and flattery, like most merchants, and that probably played a large part in it. Tanner hadn't liked him at first, but the sly little bastard had grown on him.
Cap and Al were no longer collared. Nor was Briar.
"Tanner," Jacob said. The old man was grim. "About time you returned."
Tanner leaned over the table. There was a map spread across the tabletop, this one of the rich neighborhood known as Highbrow District. Jeremy's mansion was circled. He realized why Briar was here. Other than Tanner, Briar was the only one with intimate knowledge of Jeremy's mansion.
"Planning an assault?" Tanner said.
"You know we are." Jacob seemed to be the one in charge now. In the Black Den, Jacob had always deferred to Cap. Well, Tanner supposed that with the Den gone, and most of the Denizens killed, Cap didn't really exert as much sway as he used to.
Tanner dropped his gaze to the map. "How many men do you have?"
"Not enough," Jacob said. "Though more come to us with each passing hour. The Resistance started with the trickle of refugees we found in the sewers. We uncollared them and sent them to the streets with instructions to round up those they could find—not the easiest task with Direwalkers rampaging everywhere, though it helps that our side has lightning. Only problem we're having is the time it takes to recharge. Anyway, we've setup Safe Houses all over the city, some underground, like this one." Jacob always was good at dancing around questions he didn't want to answer.
"So how many?" Tanner pressed.
The old man sighed. "Including the men in the tunnels here, I'd say we have around three hundred scattered across the city. There were more, but two of the Safe Houses fell, and I lost at least a hundred in a failed attack on the portal hops."
Tanner nodded. Three hundred. That should be more than enough for what he planned. Though if things went wrong, he'd ne
ed a lot more than that.
Jacob raised his chin proudly. "We've used the Control Room to get in touch with mayors across the world, and told them how to modify their guillotines to remove collars rather than heads. It's as simple as dulling the blade. Humanity is fighting back with lightning across the world. The bitched are becoming the unbitched, the collared, free."
Tanner frowned. "Free. That's a loaded word. And I'm not sure it applies here. Free to die, maybe. But you've finally achieved your endgame, I guess." The New User agenda—uncollar the world. That would bring a whole new set of problems down the line, not the least of which was premature aging.
"So young," Helen said to Jacob. "Yet he talks like a man with twice the years."
Jacob pretended she hadn't spoken, and he stared at Tanner with those penetrating eyes. "Endgame? Yes, I have achieved it, at that. But I do wish it were under better circumstances."
Tanner tapped his chin. "Three hundred men. What about ordinary gols?" Tanner remembered the supply gols he'd seen.
Jacob sat back. "We have around fifty."
"Can they be trusted?"
"It seems a bit strange, having gols at the headquarters of the Resistance, doesn't it? The thing is, the Direwalkers make no distinction between humans and ordinary gols. Either you're Direwalker, or you're not. Reports came from across the city that the fighting classes, the gol guards and so forth, were the first to fall against the Direwalkers. Defended us humans to the end, to their credit. Most of the gols we have are from the labor classes—tailor gols, banker gols and whatnot. Not the best fighters, and they can't summon lightning, but they are resilient. Good fodder for the front ranks during our attacks. A couple have the gol mind disease. Do you want to meet them?"
"That's all right." Tanner didn't think he'd use them. He just couldn't trust a gol, Direwalker or not. "When do you plan on making the assault on Jeremy's mansion?"
Cap finally spoke up. "Tonight. We're launching every single uncollared man we have at Jeremy's estate." Cap seemed so proud of himself. Tanner remembered how badly he wanted to take over the city while he was still in charge of the Black Den. Did he actually think that dream was attainable now, with Direwalkers rampaging everywhere?
"There's a slight problem," Tanner said. "Jeremy has... well he's changed."
"Changed?" Cap arched an eyebrow. Cap's striking resemblance to Hoodwink was distracting. Tanner thought of what the children had told him about the unregistered clones, and he wondered if Cap and Hoodwink were among that lot—the system formed your representation on the Inside based on the DNA of your body on the Outside, after all. And if Cap and Hoodwink were of that lot, what did it mean?
"Well, how has Jeremy changed?" Cap pressed.
"Because of the Dwarf, Jeremy's basically invulnerable," Tanner said, knowing he couldn't tell any of them about One. They'd never understand, not even Jacob, who knew all about the Outside thanks to Ari. "You won't be able to kill him with any of your weapons. Not fire swords. Not pipe bombs. Not lightning."
Cap glanced at Jacob, then Al. "I don't believe a word of that. Just because you come highfaluting in and out of our world don't mean I have to trust everything you say."
Tanner shrugged. "You charge Jeremy's mansion tonight, you die. All of you. If Jeremy doesn't get you, then one of his minions will. The four-armed Direwalker Brute, maybe. Unless that's what you want? You remember Brute, don't you?"
Cap didn't answer.
"That's what I thought. But there's another way to bring Jeremy down. A better way." Tanner paused for effect. "We send in a crack team of twenty men and put a trackable collar on him."
"Trackable collar?" Cap said. "As in, the collar you bitched the Dwarf with?"
"The very same. Once the collar is on, we send Jeremy past the Forever Gate with the help of the children. We push Jeremy across the last barrier, he dies, and I return with the survivors to the city."
Jacob leaned forward, frowning. "You'll never get close enough to collar Jeremy. Not with only twenty men. Jeremy's mansion is patrolled by Direwalkers at all times, and more are coming out his gate every second. Don't expect to use the White Poultice to pretend to be Jeremy or one of his minions either—finding dealers of the illegal face-changer is now impossible because of the fighting."
Tanner grinned. "I have a plan. And it doesn't involve the Poultice."
106
Breath misting, Tanner, Briar, Cap, and Al walked with purpose along the main street of Highbrow District.
All four of them had ordinary-looking fire swords belted to their waists, and wore capes with flaring collars attached to their long black coats. Centered on each coat was the embroidery of a curved tooth dripping blood. The seamstresses had put extra care and detail into those, basing them on the design found on actual Direwalkers.
Tanner had the children adjust the flags of the four avatars—via the Control Room—so that any Direwalker which scanned him or his companions would detect a fellow Direwalker. The children had also replaced the records of the four of them with false information, to offset any facial pattern recognition. And they'd even lengthened Tanner's canines, a painless procedure that none of the others had agreed to, which meant that if the companions were stopped, Tanner would be the one doing the talking.
He preferred it that way.
Tanner had insisted on personally preparing the way for tonight's raid. Cap and Al had offered to join him, and Briar, well, he had definitely surprised Tanner by volunteering to come along. Tanner had almost refused Ari's uncle, firstly because there weren't any fat Direwalkers, though he supposed he could explain that away, and secondly because he didn't think Briar had the fortitude for this kind of work. But he'd been wrong about the man before. Briar had infiltrated Jeremy's mansion as a Revisor, after all.
For the sake of Ari's memory, Tanner had let him come. They were headed to Briar's second house after all, and the man might prove to be of some use yet.
Beside him now, Briar held his head high and wore an outer mask of calm. He kept his hand on his sword hilt. The act was almost perfect, except for one thing.
"Briar." Tanner said, keeping his voice down. "Briar!"
Briar started as if drawn from some deep internal dialog.
Tanner nodded at his sword belt. "Don't squeeze your hilt so hard."
Briar looked at him blankly. "Mmm?"
Tanner pointed. "Your sword hilt!"
Briar glanced down, and when he realized that his knuckles were white around the sword's haft, he loosened his grip and smiled sheepishly.
Tanner sighed. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to let him come along.
Above, the sky was overcast and threatened a storm. Tanner searched for ravens, but didn't spot any. The gol birds acted as scouts for the enemy, and were probably being put to use in the attacks against the Safe Houses.
The streets in Highbrow hadn't been shoveled for a while, thanks to gol neglect, though much of it had been reduced to snowpack by the Direwalker foot traffic. Estates flanking the road had their gates knocked open and their doors broken in. Tanner saw the bodies of a dead husband and wife at the threshold of one of the houses, their rich silks blackened with blood. It was telling that no one had robbed the clothes from the bodies—everyone was too busy hiding or dying. Most of the residents had moved out of Highbrow weeks ago anyway, when the Direwalker sightings near Jeremy's estate first began. Though there would always be holdouts no matter where you went.
Holdouts. He'd passed one of the so-called Safe Houses on the way here, a makeshift pile of broken furniture defended by lightning-wielding men. The fighting was so intense that the bodies of the dead, men and Direwalkers alike, had started to form additional barricades. It wasn't a pretty sight. Similar fighting was probably happening at this very moment in cities across the world, and he had to wonder how long the resistance would last when the supply of Direwalkers was infinite.
He saw the origin of that infinite supply just ahead. An endless column of Direwalkers mar
ched from Jeremy's estate. Those Direwalkers followed the street that led to the Line A transit center, where they would take their choice of portal hops to cities throughout the world. Tanner had considered helping Jacob bomb those transit centers, but he realized the effort was futile because One could just repair the destruction.
A tall stone fence hemmed Jeremy's estate, but the wide gate at the front allowed Tanner to see the mansion beyond even from here, fifty paces away. When Tanner and Ari had escaped the mansion with the Control Room, Briar's bomb had decimated the entire front side of the place.
But today the facade was perfectly restored.
"Impossible," he heard Briar mutter beside him.
Tanner kept his men on the far right side of the street, and none of the Direwalkers in the emerging column paid him and his companions much heed other than a few cursory glances.
So far so good.
Tanner led the companions to Briar's second home, a manor just across the street from Jeremy's. The main gates were blown open and the grounds were empty. Tanner crossed without incident to the mansion's front door, which sat askew its hinges. Inside, dead Direwalkers were caught in a trellis of spikes against the foyer's inner wall.
"Any other traps we should know about?" Tanner asked Briar.
The merchant shook his head, and Tanner gingerly stepped inside. He crossed the tiled floor, passing rooms filled with sealskin furniture. He climbed a staircase that had nymphs carved into its balustrade, and when he reached the second floor he led the companions to a bedchamber overlooking the street.
The spyglass he and Ari had used to observe Jeremy's mansion was still here, though it was knocked over. He'd brought another just in case, but the one on the floor seemed undamaged. With a little effort he remounted the telescope and peered into the eyepiece.
Direwalkers emerged in single file from the front doors of Jeremy's mansion across the street. The Direwalkers marched past the frozen fountain and across the tree-lined path of the estate before passing through the front gates.
