“Thank you, for everything,” I said. “And goodbye.”
I raised a hand in salute, then turned away and started to walk. Behind me, I heard the sounds of the Diddakoi mounting up and driving further into the warlord’s lands. I hoped they’d be safe, I hoped they’d have the sense to keep their mouths shut if anything happened and they got caught. Or they’d blame everything on me. I didn’t want to be hunted by a man who probably had a small army under his command, but it would be better than him harassing the travellers. Besides, he’d find it harder to track me than the convoy.
Unless he uses magic, I thought. It was a hot day, the sun high in the sky, but I shivered anyway. Who knows what he can do?
I tried not to think about it as I kept walking, maintaining a steady pace. I’d done route marches and forced marches and – of course – I’d had to keep moving in Iraq and Afghanistan and a handful of other countries. It was preferable, I told myself, to be here. The locals might be suspicious of strangers – I was careful to circumvent the hamlets and villages, rather than walking through them
– but at least they weren’t shooting at me. The handful of people I saw looked too downtrodden to shoot at anyone, even if they’d had the guns. I saw no weapons. I was fairly sure the local warlord wouldn’t want his people to have guns. They might start shooting at the knights instead of passing strangers.
The fields looked strange, an odd mixture of fertile and dried-out land. I had the impression, although I couldn’t be sure, that the farms were undermanned.
It wasn’t easy to tell where one farm ended and the next began. The road led me past dried ditches that might have marked the edges of a farm, or might have been nothing more than irrigation channels running dry through disuse. I wondered, idly, why the farmers weren’t trying to produce more food. The city wasn’t that far away. I could easily imagine it consuming more and more food every year, particularly if the population continued to swell.
Which it might not, I thought. There had to be limits to how much a city could grow, certainly in the absence of modern technology. There’d been millions of people in New York and feeding them all had to be difficult. I’d read a handful of books where the supply chains broke down and the results were looting and rioting, followed by mass starvation. The larger the city, the greater the risk of total collapse if the food runs out.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought, I decided, as I started to encounter more and more people heading to and from the city. They looked like merchants and farmers. A handful of them shot wary glances at me, but the majority seemed content to
ignore the stranger. They were all men, at least on the surface, yet I was sure a handful were actually women. It wouldn’t have been apparent – not even remotely apparent – if I hadn’t grown up in a world where women regularly wore male clothes. I didn’t blame them. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen women pretend to be men in patriarchal societies. It gave them more freedom, as well as security. I guessed they were the wives, sisters and daughters of farmers, come to sell the farm’s wares.
My stomach growled as the city walls came into view. I ate a piece of hardtack, then joined the line of people advancing towards the gates. The wind shifted, blowing the stench of the city into my face. I grimaced, telling myself I’d get used to it. I had no choice. There was nowhere else to go. If the guards on the gates told me to get lost … I wondered, idly, what I’d do if that happened.
Try to sneak into the city? Or set out into the unknown? My heart started to race as I passed through the gates …
The guards ignored me. They almost made a show of ignoring me. I tensed, half-expecting to be jumped the moment I crossed the line into the city. There were guards on the far side, all paying more attention to the farmers than to me.
They didn’t seem to be waiting for me … it took several moments to realise they were deliberately ignoring me because they didn’t want to take official notice of my presence, because they thought I was a runaway. I was torn between relief and fear. If I was taken for a runaway serf, I might be dragged back to a farm I’d never left …
I kept walking, allowing the city to envelop me. I wasn’t sure where I was going. People shouted back and forth, their words echoing in my ears as they pushed their way through the crowded streets. I had the vague idea I could find a place to stay somewhere near the market, perhaps a job or two. There was always work for someone willing to do the dirty stuff, I knew, although I wasn’t sure anyone was doing the dirty stuff here. The streets were filthy. I doubted there were any volunteers to clean the sewers … hell, I wasn’t even sure there were sewers. My stomach churned at the thought. Damansara was a breeding ground for flies and disease. I wondered if they’d even made the connection between flies and disease. Perhaps I could tell them.
And perhaps they wouldn’t listen, I thought, numbly. I was starting to feel hunger pangs again. Why should they listen to you?
Chapter Eight
The question mocked me as I purchased some food from a roadside stall and forced myself to eat it. Why should anyone listen to me? I was no one. I wasn’t a warlord or a magician or even a wealthy merchant. Hell, for all I knew, I was missing something. There were no shortage of horror stories about ignorant do-gooders who’d made things worse because they didn’t really know what was going on. Sure, buying food staples in bulk can save money in the long run, but only if you have the space to store the food. What sort of idiot wouldn’t realise that poor people often didn’t have the space to store anything?
A ignorant idiot ignorant of her own ignorance and idiocy, I thought. My stomach shifted as I chewed a piece of meat … I thought it was meat. I didn’t want to know what it had been, before it had been killed and tossed in the cooking pot. But what am I going to do here?
I was terrifyingly aware of my own ignorance. I’d come to a world where no one gave a damn about the colour of my skin or college degree and yet … I didn’t have the slightest idea how to apply for a job. Or what was fair pay. Or what my legal rights were … actually, I was fairly sure I didn’t have any rights.
Damansara didn’t strike me as a place founded on law, order and a shared understanding of the rules. The citizens had presumably evolved ways to govern themselves, but I didn’t even know who to ask for help. And who would give me help? I didn’t know that either.
The marketplace surrounded me as I wandered through the square. The merchants might be interested in hiring me … it was galling to consider being a shopboy or delivery man after spending years in the army, but it was better than starvation. I’d known too many people who’d refused to do menial labour, even when it was that or starve. I knew better than to let myself fall into that mindset. And yet, I didn’t even know where to begin. Who’d be interested in hiring me? I didn’t even know how to ask.
I wandered past a stall piled high with fruits and vegetables, wondering if the stallkeeper would be interested in a spare pair of hands. I needed somewhere to stay as well as money to earn my keep … I was used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, but I doubted I’d last a night if I tried sleeping in an alleyway.
Shantytowns and homeless encampments tended to be thoroughly unsafe for strangers. I was lucky I wasn’t a young woman running away from home. I’d probably find myself being sweet-talked by a pimp, then get put to work turning tricks on the street. Somehow, I couldn’t see myself being a successful prostitute. Even Cleo had hesitated to describe me as handsome.
The thought hurt, more than I cared to admit. I’d loved her. I loved my boys.
But I’d never see them again and they’d never know what had happened to me. The army would probably class me as a deserter, as someone who’d driven into the countryside and vanished … I made a face. They’d never even find the car. And
…
I heard a shout behind me and turned, just in time to see a young boy – he couldn’t be older than fourteen, although it was hard to be sure – running away from a stall as if the hounds of hell were behind
him. He held a loaf of bread in one hand. The merchant was shouting about thieves … I realised, to my horror, that he’d stolen the bread. A flash of naked anger ran through me. I’d known too many would-be shopkeepers ruined because of thieves, their livelihoods destroyed because they couldn’t replenish their stock or … I lunged forward without thinking and tackled him. He tumbled to the ground, lashing out with surprising strength. It was hard to get a grip on him. He twisted and turned in a desperate bid to escape. I held him down, ducking a wild blow aimed at my face as I caught his arms and pressed them against the ground. The loaf of bread hit the street and lay still. I hoped someone wouldn’t try to eat it.
I’d seen animals shitting and pissing on the ground. There were things on the cobblestones no one wanted in their mouth.
“Got the brat!” I looked up to see a pair of city guardsmen running towards me.
“Good work!”
The thief twisted underneath me. One of the guards clapped me on the shoulder, then pushed me off the boy and kicked him hard. Too hard. I tensed, suddenly wondering if I’d made a mistake. The boy was a thief and yet … the other guard caught hold of the lad by his hair and yanked him upright, then searched him roughly. A set of pouches tumbled to the ground. I guessed the boy was a pickpocket as well as a thief. And yet …
I eyed the guardsmen warily as they pocketed the pouches, making sure to keep their hands on the boy. They looked … it was hard to put the feeling into words. They didn’t look very professional. They looked more like thugs than real policemen. I had the feeling they were the type of guardsmen who’d take bribes, who’d exploit their positions for all they were worth. I’d met the type, in Afghanistan. They’d managed to unite entire districts against them. A shudder ran down my spine. Who could blame the locals for wanting the policemen dead?
“You’ll come with us,” the lead guard said. I was certain it wasn’t a request.
“Come.”
I hesitated. They were muscular, but I didn’t think they knew how to use it. I could take them both, even without the gun. And yet … I considered running, on
the assumption I could simply outrun them, but where would I go? The boy I’d caught moaned in pain as one of the guardsmen kicked his ankle, hobbling him. I sighed and fell into step beside them. It was hard not to miss the looks people were giving me. They probably felt I’d done the wrong thing. I was starting to feel the same way too.
The crowds parted as we walked down the streets. I couldn’t help noticing how many people turned away from the guardsmen, as if they were fearful of attracting their attention. I’d seen that before too, in places where honest policemen met unpleasant ends and government cared more for appearance than reality. I wasn’t sure this place was advanced enough to care about appearance, but … I considered, again and again, simply running for my life. And yet, it was pointless? Where the hell would I go?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have shot those guys, I thought, morbidly. Perhaps I should have asked Jasmine to take me …
The boy let out a moan as a small fortress came into view. I stared in astonishment. The guardhouse was a blocky structure that looked designed to withstand a siege, surrounded by a wall topped with iron spikes. A pair of guardsmen stood outside the gates, their hands resting on their swords. The street beyond was surprisingly quiet. I guessed no one wanted to walk past the guardhouse for fear they’d be dragged inside and tortured. My escorts spoke to the gatekeepers, then marched through the gate and into the building. The air inside was surprisingly cold. I shivered, helplessly. The thief was passed to a pair of guardsmen and I was shown to a stone bench. I shrugged, sat and waited. It wasn’t as if I had anything else to do.
I forced myself to wait for what felt like hours. Guardsmen – all men, I noted
– came and went with astonishing regularity. They wore the same uniform – a white tunic with a black belt and sash – but otherwise they were strikingly dissimilar. Some were old, some were young; their skins ranged from white to black and everything in between. Some of them looked as if they could get into Special Forces without even trying, others were weirdly acrofatic to the point I couldn’t help wondering if they’d been cursed. One of the weirder looking men reminded me of Obelix. They chatted to each other like …
Silence fell. I looked up to see a middle-aged man making his way towards me.
He wore the same white tunic, but a golden – or at least gold-coloured – sash.
I would have known he was in charge even without it, from the way the rest of the guardsmen deferred to him. His face was rough, covered with unkempt stubble; his smile was missing several teeth; his piggish eyes showed a glint of intelligence unleavened by humanity. I was careful not to meet his eyes as he marched closer. I had the feeling he’d take it as a challenge.
He looked me up and down, his expression managing to suggest he’d seen more impressive people sleeping rough on the streets. I did my best to remain calm, yet ready to act. I’d met my share of unfit commanding officers, but the newcomer managed to be worse. He looked the type to explode at a moment’s notice, the type who could be set off by anyone or anything. I braced myself, unsure if I’d be rewarded or punished. It was quite possible I’d made a serious mistake and put my neck in the noose.
“So,” the newcomer said. He had no indoor voice. He sounded like a sea captain trying to make himself heard in a storm. “Who are you?”
“Elliot, sir,” I said.
“I am Captain Alder, City Guard,” the man thundered. He turned away. “Come.”
I stood and followed him through a twisting maze of corridors. The building felt old, as if it had been passed down from generation to generation of guardsmen. I suspected the interior had been designed to confuse intruders as much as anything else, although there was no way to be sure. Captain Alder
marched onwards without so much as slowing down, forcing everyone else to get the hell out if his way. I wasn’t even sure he was looking where he was going.
It looked as if he didn’t have to. I saw men jumping out of his way as if they were about to be run down by a charging elephant.
My lips quirked. I hastily smoothed them into a neutral expression as Captain Alder led me into a small room. Another man – tall, thin, bald and strikingly pale – stood to greet us. He nodded to Captain Alder, then looked at me. I felt an odd little tingle as his eyes met mine for a second. Magic? The man was dressed in black. Jasmine had told me that magicians were the only people allowed to wear black clothes.
Crap, I thought. I didn’t have the slightest idea what this man could do, but …
there was something in Captain Alder’s posture that suggested the magician was dangerous. It was strange, very worrying. I’d known boys who were so insane, so willing to do anything to hurt someone even if it meant getting hurt themselves, that they’d scared even grown men. What now?
“Sit,” Captain Alder ordered. He pointed to a chair. “Why did you help my men?”
I felt a strange compulsion to answer – and answer truthfully. It was disconcerting to feel my lips threatening to move of their own accord, to speak words that I didn’t quite want to speak. I tried to shape a lie, it refused even to form. I cursed under my breath, wondering if I should shoot the pair of them and then try to escape. Magic … who knew what the sorcerer could do to defend himself? They had guns. It wasn’t impossible they knew how to protect themselves too.
“I don’t like thieves,” I said, finally. It was true. It was also a test of just how much the spell would allow me to do. I could say anything I liked, as long as it was true. I’d just have to be careful my answers matched the questions. I was pretty sure they had ways of making me talk. “They ruin lives and businesses.”
“Good.” Captain Alder seemed oddly amused by my answer. “You’re new to the city, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I tried to tell a half-truth, to say I’d been in the city before, but I couldn’t force myself to shape the words. “I’ve only jus
t arrived.”
“I see,” Captain Alder said. “Where do you come from?”
I tensed. They might not believe the whole truth, spell or no spell. And if they did … I shuddered, inwardly. I wasn’t sure what would be worse. If they believed me … I wondered what they’d do. Laugh at me? Enslave me? Sell me to someone who could put my knowledge to work? Or … I didn’t want to know.
“I was brought from a distant land,” I said, carefully. “I’ve been travelling ever since.”
The sorcerer leaned forward. “You have a translation spell on you,” he said.
“Why don’t you speak the common tongue?”
“I was never taught how to speak it,” I said. “I’m trying to learn.”
Captain Alder studied me for a long moment. “Did you run away from a farm?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“Good,” Captain Alder said. He seemed pleased by my answer. It took me a moment to realise he’d have had to return a runaway to his former master. “What are you doing in the city?”
“Looking for a job,” I said. “It isn’t going very well.”
Captain Alder laughed. “What sort of job do you want?”
“Something that pays and lets me have a place to sleep,” I said. There were several other answers, but I didn’t want to get into them. I needed to learn how the city really worked – and master the common tongue – before I tried anything more complex. “I’m not that picky.”
Captain Alder and the sorcerer exchanged glances. “Last question,” Captain Alder said. “Do you want to join the guard?”
I blinked in surprise, then kicked myself. There was no reason to believe the locals vetted the guardsmen very thoroughly, if at all. Captain Alder had confirmed that I was new to the city and in desperate need of a job and … he didn’t need to know anything else. Hell, he might see my lack of anywhere else to go as a positive advantage. Besides, I might just have made myself unpopular by catching the thief. The locals probably didn’t like thieves, but I’d bet my life they hated the City Guard even worse. I might discover the locals didn’t feel inclined to help me at all.
Stuck In Magic Page 7
