by J A Deriu
“I am not that type,” Dagni weakly said.
“No, neither am I.” Ida could not feel her own body. “I was lost in the excitement of the day.”
Dagni looked at the moose head and placed her glass on a table. “There is an evening session I must attend.” She moved for the door with only a fleeting glance toward Ida. “Congratulations. I will say farewell for now.” The door closed.
Ida picked up Dagni’s glass. She poured the drink down her throat and threw the glass into the fire. The noise was that of a small explosion. She looked at her own glass that was in her other hand and guzzled that too. The glass met the same fate, with added vigor, so that splinters of glass splashed out onto the carpet. She went to the desk, picked up the bottle, collapsed into the armchair, and lifted the bottle to her lips.
The telephone on the desk rang. She reached down. The cord of the telephone was alongside the chair. She yanked it hard, and the ringing stopped. She drank greedily from the bottle. It splashed out of her mouth and down her chin until it was empty. She threw the bottle into the fire. It bounced without smashing. She thought about picking it up to make sure that it smashed and then thought of finding another one. Instead, she could not move and sank her head into the leather of the armchair.
She waited, letting the liquor and narcotics surge in her body. She knew that he would come. On an important day such as this one, he would come to make his claims. She closed her eyes. Time moved quickly or slowly. It was impossible for her to tell. The room was silent, the room of a dead man. The fire made no noise.
She opened her eyes. The fire was of red embers. Her vision was blurred. For a moment, the bust of an ancient was a person. Had Dagni come back or P. been found? She uncomfortably adjusted her position and tried to focus her attention on something to bring herself out of the shadow realm.
She could see across to the desk that would be hers. It was bare. The room had darkened. The oil lamps attached to the walls had burned down. She looked to the dark corners and then the busts and animal heads that stared at her. Her eyes returned to the imposing desk. Sitting at its center was a board. The game was familiar, although she did not play. She tensed her body to raise what energy she could.
She stood in the center of the room. “Come out of the shadows,” she said to break the silence.
She sat at the desk. The backgammon board was in front of her. She heard the dignified noise of a throat being cleared. It was not hers. He was standing in front of what remained of the fire and under the head of the moose. “We talk. We never play. It is time to play,” he said. He was an angular silhouette.
“I am not sure if I know the rules, and even if I did, my head is a mess at this moment.”
“Ah, yes, the dragon will do that. It served you well in your grand and mesmerizing speech, but afterward, it can be like a drag.”
Ida felt her head and groaned.
He moved across the room to a cabinet. “There will be another bottle. We should drink a toast to your success.” He paused and studied her. “Ah, you are morose. Your ambition has been drained. What is it?” He moved toward the desk. “I do not really drink anyway.” He sat across from her. “Do you see the prize before you, and it does not excite you as you expected? If this is the case, this is to be expected. The Forum is a cesspool. And no one wants to swim in a cesspool, even if they are wearing the most immaculate of swimming costumes.” He sighed and touched the game. “This is all true. But you are in the office of Councillor Newton. He was the one being shaped to lead this city after the fall of Conrad Vandergrift. Now Sebastian Newton has fallen, and you have his office. Your rise is imminent. It is obvious.” He had an ease of movement that relaxed her. “It is also obvious to have doubts. I have them myself. I have spent long, contemplative hours with matters such as … Why is man the only animal that stands erect? This is one that I have not figured.”
He looked up from the board game. His eyes told her it was her time to talk. Her mouth did not move. The remains of the fire burned peacefully. He waited.
“You have seen that the dragon eliminates all fear. The time has come to seek power.” She remained silent. Her lips hardened. “This city needs those that seek and grab power to hold it together. Can you see that it is falling apart? Without the powerful there can be no progress. It will be yet another grand conglomeration of humanity that will end in stinking mediocrity.” He moved in his chair. “This cycle will be different. We will make sure that it is different.” He pulled his hands away from the board game. “You are tired. Perhaps next time we will play.” He stood and moved to the darker part of the room. She blinked for a moment and refocused. He was gone. She assumed that it was the effect of the dragon stick that had made it seem like he had appeared and then vanished. She put her hands firmly on the table and lifted herself to stand so that she could survey the unfamiliar room as best that she could. He was truly gone.
She had a terrible feeling swelling inside of her. The speech was a complete victory, as complete as any conquering general. The aftermath was a mess, and then followed by ominous mystery. She had been pulled into a vortex at the heart of power. She knew what she had to do and whom she had to talk to. She only regretted that it was him.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack thought that the great city was an ugly place. The sun seemed too bright as it struck across the water and altered his view of the cityscape. He could discern the machines and concrete of the swollen city and its dull colors only interrupted by the glinting glass of the windows. The people were too crowded. He was uncertain how they survived. The industrial smells had caused his head to ache.
He was glad that he was some distance from it and safe on the water. The boat passed a buoy that was weighed down by layers of bird droppings. Gaspar placed a reassuring hand on his back. Felix turned the tiller of the motor so that they angled toward the shoreline. “We are where we should not be,” the tall man said. “Look dumb and hang those fishing lines over the side.”
“Wait until we stop,” Gaspar said. He firmed the touch of his hand. “Take this and see what you can see.” He showed the short telescope from under his coat. “Across there is where to look.” Felix stopped the motor. The water lapped against the side of the boat. It swayed modestly. Jack looked to where Gaspar had pointed – the shoreline at the very end of the great island that was New Kons. He could see with his bare eye a streak of sharp greenery in front of a many-leveled, ornate, bright-red-brick building. The scene had a feel of imposing order, which made Jack shiver for a moment. He was looking at something that had the supremacy of the empire. He felt the cold of the telescope in his hand. He hunched himself and pulled his hood to cover most of his face. Only an eye was exposed to which he lifted the telescope. Gaspar dropped a fishing line into the water. “We have only moments. Be quick, Landry.”
Jack pointed the telescope to the green lawn and adjusted the settings as Gaspar had taught him to do.
“We have timed this well,” Felix said. “I can see them. They are exercising.”
“Be quick. We are being watched,” Gaspar urgently added.
Jack could not make out anything in the blur of bright colors. He used both hands to steady the telescope. The wall of a building steadied in the eyepiece. He moved it to see grass and trimmed trees.
“What do you see?” Gaspar asked.
“Nothing yet,” Jack answered. He saw a face. It was a harsh face, angry. For a moment he thought it was looking at him, and his hand shook, but he managed to hold the tube steady. The face was scowling at something that it was watching. He moved the telescope, and he could see others. The faces of young women, standing in a line, mouths open and exercising. Their arms were thrust forward and held straight and then above their heads. They were wearing loose, white, windblown clothes. “I see them.” He looked at the faces. They looked the same. He could not distinguish between them. The sunlight dulled their features
. He looked for the yellow hair and moved the field of vision frantically along the line of girls and then another.
“We must go,” Felix said. “We have been seen.”
Jack felt a tense hand on his shoulder. He knew that this was not the reason they were on the boat and that Gaspar was favoring him. He should not have been with them at all. He forced himself to study all that he could see. He saw a flash of yellow hair, and then the boat moved, and he was looking at the blue of the sky. “Did you see her?” Gaspar asked.
“Yes, I think I did.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“I was right,” Felix said and swung the till. The boat turned quickly. Gaspar had pulled up the fishing line. Jack wanted to look through the telescope again, but it was too late.
Gaspar looked at him grimly. “She is there then.” He pointed his chin to Felix. “Quick, get us among the other boats.”
“We will be there soon. The patrol won’t chase. They will think that we are keen fishermen trying to exploit an unfished area.”
“Good work, then,” Gaspar said and prepared his line to be thrown out again. “There is no bait. Did you not buy some? It would have been better in case we are checked to have some bait and some fish that we can pretend we caught.”
Felix shrugged.
The boat settled among the others. They kept their heads turned down. There was enough water between them and the other boats that they did not have any questioning of their stray behavior. Few words were said, mostly from Gaspar. “Today was of great consequence,” he said. “We have confirmed that Joy is among the slaves of the governess. We are a step closer to her freedom. Now we must plot how to make that freedom.”
“Hmm, a damn task,” Felix added.
“Don’t curse, brother,” Gaspar answered.
Jack remained silent, tightened his hold on his fishing line, and questioned in his mind the picture he had seen of the yellow-haired girl and whether he remembered well enough of what Joy looked like.
The day darkened. Felix lit a lamp, and Gaspar pretended to rebait his line. They ate some dried fruit and bread that had been purchased with coins at the dock.
“It was a great city once,” Gaspar said with his face pointed to the lit cityscape across the water. “They fought the Ottomans with fury. They resisted for over two years. That was a long time ago. One hundred and fifty years. Yet I am told the scars of the battle can still be found in the streets and walls of the old city. The Ottomans were so incensed by the resistance that they changed the name. They were torn. They wanted to flatten, bury the city, and salt the earth like the Romans did to Carthage, but the city was too important as a trading and financial hub, so they changed the name instead.” He narrowed his eyes to the elaborate palaces that gleamed across the water. “The wealth attracted the sultan’s governor. He built his palaces here, and they have sat atop these lands like a yoke since.”
Some of the other boats began to pull up their lines, start their motors, and leave for the day. “It is getting close to curfew,” Gaspar said as he watched the boats go and then turned to Jack. “Yes, the curfew concerns the water too.”
It darkened quickly. There were no boats remaining. Felix extinguished the lamp. He started the motor but kept the noise muffled by keeping it on a low speed. They headed in the opposite direction than the other boats had gone. They were conspiratorially silent. The steep bank of the landmass occupied by the governor’s gardens and palaces loomed in front of them. Felix turned off the motor and lifted an oar to begin rowing. They moved to within touching distance of the stone walls. Felix used the oar to keep them from hitting. Gaspar watchfully looked up. “Steady, brother.” A wind howled across the water and covered the scant noise that they made. Lights from high above reflected on the water. It would be a long and hard climb over the seawalls, and Jack thought about how they intended to get over, if that was their intention. He could smell the slime on the walls. They would be too slippery to climb. The boat moved along the wall for a long time. Jack was told to watch the water in case any boat came for them. It was black. He could only see lights very far in the distance, a ferry crossing the harbor for those not affected by the curfew.
Gaspar signaled for Felix to slow the boat. A gap in the seawall was next to him. It was an arched tunnel. “In here,” Gaspar whispered. Felix steered the boat into the channel. It was tall enough for a man to stand, and Gaspar stood, braced forward, at the front of the boat. Once they were well inside, he lit the lamp and lifted it. The walls were a mixture of bricks and natural stone stained with water marks. The stink was sickening, and Jack held his hand to his nose.
“If it were raining,” Felix said, “we would not be in here.”
They moved slowly along the tunnel. Water trickled from open pipes, and indistinct shapes floated in the inky underground stream.
“Don’t ask. You don’t need to know,” Gaspar said to Jack’s questioning face. “It looks like we are going into the belly of the beast, but we are not. We are taking a look underneath.”
The bottom of the boat began to scrape. Felix used the oar to push them farther along. Gaspar jumped off the boat and landed in the water, which came up to the top of his boots. He held the lamp above his head. “Look, there.” A passage could be seen at the side with steps leading up. “Landry, you stay here with the boat. We won’t be long.”
Jack watched them go up the steps. There was a rusted iron gate blocking the way, but Felix pulled a key from his waist and played with the lock, and it squealed open. Jack felt the boat. It was well secured in the shallow water. There was not much of a flow of water to move it. He dropped the anchor over the side to be sure. He stepped out of the boat and onto the steps. He followed them. His habit was of learning more from when he overhead them than they would say when he was with them.
He moved up quietly. There was no light, and it looked as if he would have to go back. The stairs turned. He looked around the bend, and saw Gaspar’s lamp bob in the distance. The passageway had opened into a wider area with arches and a low ceiling. There was a noise next to him. He was still for a moment, and something small scurried in the black corners. He sneaked forward and stopped at a column.
He followed the light of the lamp and made sure that he kept his distance. They moved crookedly, and he had to be careful with his movements, as he could not see where he placed his feet. The dank caverns changed in shape and height as he moved, and he lost the light in moments, only to breathe again when it appeared.
He was concerned that he would not remember the way back to the boat when they finally stopped. Gaspar and Felix were visible, but he could not get closer. There was too much darkness in between, and it was wet and slippery. He peeked from behind a column. They were looking up at the ceiling and moved from point to point. They then looked down at the ground, stamped their feet, and checked their boots. He could not hear what they were saying. They stopped, having found a spot that they were satisfied with. The talking from them was almost listenable as it increased in vigor. They embraced for a moment – the firm embrace of soldiers, clasping each other’s arms. There was quick laughter. They lowered to their knees and were in the familiar pose of praying. Jack edged backward to the way he had come from. He had not learned what they were doing, and he would not ask.
He waited for them in the boat and sat as though he had not moved.
Jack lay on his woolen bedroll in a corner of the room and puzzled over the events of the day. He turned on his side toward the wall so that one ear was pushed into the bunched-up shirt that was his pillow, and he pulled up the sheet to cover his other ear. Like this he was hoping to block the snores of the Templars so that he could stop thinking and fall asleep. He longed to be away from the city where he could camp under the stars and imagine the stories of the braves as he looked up at the sky. His body did not like the position, so he turned to face the other way
, where he could at least look at the moonlight coming through the window. He lifted his head. Someone was up and moved across the room. He forced his eyes to focus and used his elbows to lift himself higher. Jack made out the familiar silhouette of Gaspar. He woke Hoston and then moved to wake another. Jack lay his head back on the pillow.
Gaspar crouched in front of him. “Jack, are you awake?”
Jack groaned that he was.
“Is this the right time, Gas?” Odo said. “I was in the middle of a pleasant dream.”
“Dreaming of lamb skewers, were you?” Hoston taunted.
Gaspar ignored them. “Jack, there is important business to be done. Get up.” He stood and looked over the room. “The rest of you too. Get ready.”
“I would like lamb skewers. What is it, Gaspar? It is the middle of the night. Why now?” Odo asked.
“This is overdue. I was restless in my sleep thinking about it. Get ready. We are going out.”
“What about the curfew?” Jack asked.
“Ha, the curfew.” Gaspar laughed. “We only abide by the rules of the Lord.”
They all changed into their work clothes and crept out. Before they left, Amblard had to get out a bone to keep the dog too busy to bark. The cat did not stir from its sleep.
They followed close behind Gaspar. The town was completely dark with even the street lamps extinguished. There were others who hurried on the streets. They did not acknowledge them, and they were not acknowledged back. Gaspar’s preference was to cross to the other side and avoid passing the scuttling shadows at all. The night sky was riven with angry streaks of clouds. “Are we going fishing?” Odo whispered.
“Is all you think about food?” Hoston sniggered.
“Be quiet and stop complaining. You are supposed to be wolves,” Gaspar answered over his shoulder. “All will be shown soon.”
