The Strange

by Masha du Toit

  He reached for the muzzle strap, his fear of her so apparent Meisje nearly winced away from his hand. She relaxed her muscles, breathing slow and calm, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible.

  Argent muttered as he struggled with the buckle, but at last it loosened and he pulled abruptly back. Meisje slid her face free of the confining straps. She badly wanted to yawn, but she was sure that Argent would misinterpret any show of teeth. When she sat up, he dodged back, scrambling to his feet with a hand grasping for his shirt collar.

  Meisje lowered her nose and trotted off. The leash snapped tight and tugged Argent after her.

  Scent trails branched everywhere. Nothing spoke to her, but she mapped them all the same, noticing as smaller tributaries branched off, or joined again.

  When she finally found what she was seeking, she stopped so abruptly that Argent nearly tripped over her.

  “Hey!” His tone changed as he realised how intently she was sniffing. “You found something?”

  Meisje flicked an ear at him and backtracked a few steps.

  Here. Yes. Her tongue darted out and she licked the place. Yes. The barest trace, but she could not mistake the scent.

  Elke.

  Meisje cast in an arc, found another trace, sniffed it, snorted to clear her nose and sniffed again. Slowly at first, and then more confidently, she followed the trail. It had been walked over by many other feet but was still fresh enough to call to her. It took them up a set of stairs, and along a walkway.

  Here Meisje found strong traces, on wall and floor. Elke had been sitting here. Kiran too, and Noor, and Jinan.

  Argent called out to a group of officials who stood nearby, speaking in his usual commanding way.

  The men seemed surprised at first, and then angered. Their hands clenched, their postures stiffened, but Argent was oblivious.

  Meisje’s hair stirred on her back as she saw the glance that passed between the men. One of them stepped around behind Argent, but even then, he did not sense his danger.

  He gaped in surprise when they drew their knives. The man behind him reached out a hand but Meisje was already in motion.

  She sped between the man’s legs, knocking him off balance, then curved round. For a heartbeat she stood between Argent and his attackers, snarling. The men, startled, hesitated, and then advanced again, calling terse commands to one another.

  Meisje threw her full weight into the first man’s chest, letting his knife score uselessly down her flank. While he fell back against the railing, she twisted, jaws around the next man’s wrist, forcing him to drop his weapon. The third man was already running away, so she dropped back on all fours, guarding Argent once more, ready for another attack.

  But they’d had enough. They edged away, sliding their knives back into their belts.

  Argent leaned on the railing, hands shaking, and stared after the retreating men. “What— How—”

  Meisje licked the cut along her ribs, inspecting it. It was not deep and didn’t give her much pain.

  “You got hurt,” said Argent, seeing the trace of red on her white fur. He reached out a hesitant hand. “Are you hurt?”

  Meisje let him examine her side. Her armour might not be as visible as Danger’s, but that didn’t mean she was unprotected.

  Argent straightened up, expelling a breath. “Well.” He looked at Meisje. “That was impressive.” He swallowed and gave her a little bow. “I owe you thanks.”

  Meisje just lowered her nose to the ground, and trotted off, following the trail down to the concourse again, never lifting her nose more hand a hands-breath from the stone.

  She followed the trail to a train that stood huffing on its tracks.

  Argent looked along the length of the train, then up at the gate it faced. “You sure?”

  Meisje sniffed her way along from carriage to carriage. Yes. Here it was. Elke had stepped on the edge of the carriage’s door frame. Meisje sniffed, snorted, and sniffed again to make sure.

  This was the one.

  “Well.” Argent dusted his hands on his trousers, looking pleased. “Well done indeed.” He nodded, satisfied. “All I need to do now is find out where this train is headed. Then we can go back to the Eye and set the official process in motion.”

  Meisje watched in surprise as he approached foreman of the can-workers.

  He is going back to the Eye?

  At least Argent seemed to have learnt his lesson in diplomacy. He spoke politely to the foreman, with none of his usual domineering manner. The man answered his questions to Argent’s apparent satisfaction.

  “There,” he said to Meisje when they were out of the foreman’s earshot. “This train is going to Dasch.” He paused, suddenly. “You are sure that Elke and Jinan got on it?”

  Meisje barked.

  “Well. Good.” Argent nodded to himself. “This narrows down the possibilities nicely. This portal opens to Abuur, and from there the man tells me the train goes directly to Dasch. I know Dasch. It has a big carsera. That’s where they’ll have taken your mistress, and Jinan too. I know just which diplomatic channels to tweak to set things going there. But first we must get back to the Eye.”

  Meisje didn’t move.

  “Come.” Argent tugged impatiently at the leash. “The quicker we get back...”

  Meisje took the leash in her mouth, positioning it between the sharp-edge molars at the back of her jaw. One bite was enough to sever it. After that, it was easy to keep out of Argent’s reach.

  “Hey!” Argent looked in astonishment at the cut off leash. “Come back here! What are you doing—”

  Meisje already had her nose between the panels of the train door. She forced it open.

  “Hey!”

  She pushed her way into the carriage and looked around, choosing a bench. Argent pulled the door open wider and stuck his head through. “You! Dog!”

  Meisje jumped onto the bench furthest from the door and curled herself up.

  The doors rattled as Argent pushed through. “You! Dog! Come right back here.” The closer he came to her, the less certain he sounded. “You have to come back with me. I can’t possibly let you on this train by yourself. If nothing else, you’re a very expensive piece of equipment, and property of the Babylon Eye.”

  Meisje wrinkled her muzzle, letting him see her teeth.

  “Ah!” Argent stepped back hurriedly. To Meisje’s surprise, he snorted with unwilling laughter. “Oh, very well. You win. Don’t move. I’ll go organise our tickets.” He went out, muttering to himself.

  Meisje watched him go. She was tired. It had been hours since she’d had any sleep. Her belly rumbled, and she wondered when it would occur to Argent that she needed food.

  But none of that mattered.

  She had found Elke’s trail. She was getting closer to her. Soon, soon, she would see her again.

  Meisje settled her chin on her crossed paws and heaved a little sigh.

  A Song in the Dark

  Elke woke, suppressing the urge to groan. It had been a long night, with little sleep. Her hands still felt sensitive from her encounter with the human gas-bomb, the tender skin snagging on the rough blankets. Her stomach hurt too, and that had given her some uncomfortable dreams.

  Mell and Betina had slept soundly enough, judging by their breathing, but Kiran had been wakeful, sitting up, staring into the dark, and when she did lie down, she’d moved about restlessly.

  “Hey. You awake?” Barb stepped into their sleeping space, closely followed by Nehi.

  Elke stifled a yawn and rubbed a hand over her face. “I think so.”

  “Nehi wanted to speak to you, before we go.”

  “You leaving?”

  People were moving about beyond the partition that screened them from the rest of the can.

  “Yep,” said Barb. “We’re off, the three of us. Riding convoy down to the mouth with the farm slaves. We’ll be gone for a while. More than a month, probably.”

  “Oh.”

  Kiran was sti
ll asleep, a small huddle under her blankets, one arm thrown over her face to shield her eyes.

  “Elke,” said Nehi. When he had her attention, he spoke several sentences, while Barb scratched sleepily at her stomach.

  “He says,” Barb translated when he was done, “that we’re going to be gone for a long time. But that you and your friends must sleep here in the can-stack. If the other pugios give you any trouble, you’re to say that Pugio Nehi said you can stay here.”

  Elke drew breath to thank them, but Nehi was speaking again.

  “He says,” said Barb, “be careful. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. This place will grind you up and spit you out. He says if you need help, ask Sadh. He’s only an esseret, so doesn’t have much influence, but you can trust him not to stab you in the back.”

  Nehi spoke again, leaning forward as if to bring across the intensity of his words.

  “He says he owes you a debt for saving us from the cut-gas. He hopes you find your friends, and that they are well, when you find them.”

  Elke nodded again. Something in the big man’s eyes spoke of the things he’d seen, things he’d rather forget.

  “Thanks,” she said, once she trusted her voice. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”

  “Nah,” said Barb. “No need to thank us.” She wrinkled up her face as if fighting off a sneeze. “You look after yourself. You’ll have enough to do, just with that.”

  It was only after they were gone that Elke remembered about the siege and wondered whether the pugios would have any trouble with the enemy armies outside the city.

  A sigh from Kiran attracted her attention. Kiran’s eyes were closed, and strands of her hair clung damply to her forehead.

  Elke rested the back of her hand on Kiran’s cheek. “You’re very warm,” she said softly. “You feeling okay?”

  Kiran’s eyes closed even more tightly, and she flinched away, rolling on her side with her back to Elke. “I’m fine,” she grumbled.

  After a moment she sighed, rolled onto her back again, and looked at Elke. “Sorry.” She licked her lips and swallowed dryly. “I feel a bit shit.” Her voice was rough, and her eyes bloodshot.

  “You’re flushed,” said Elke. “Do you have a fever?” She wanted to brush the clinging strands of hair from Kiran’s face.

  Kiran drew in a breath as if to speak, then let it out again. “Bugger it.” She struggled up into a sitting position. “You might as well know.”

  After a glance to check that the others were still asleep, Kiran turned her left-hand palm up and pulled her sleeve back as far as her elbow, exposing her inner arm.

  At first, Elke took the marks for tattoos. Then she drew in her breath in a hiss. “What the hell—”

  “I think they’re quite pretty, actually.” Kiran turned her arm this way and that. The soft skin of her inner arm, all the way up to her elbow was covered with a delicate tracery of frond-like growths, rose pink shading into lavender, each tipped with a peacock blue bud.

  “I think it’s some kind of fungus.” Kiran touched one of the fronds with a fingertip and it curled back on itself.

  Elke looked more closely. “It’s growing right out of your tattoos. It’s like the ink’s come alive.” She glanced up at Kiran’s face. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not exactly.” Kiran regarded her arm calmly. “It did at first. Itched like fuck before the buds broke through the skin. But now it just feels weird. Sort of crawly.”

  She shivered and drew her sleeve carefully down again. Elke noticed that the tiny fronds flattened themselves out before the fabric of the sleeve covered them.

  “Shit.” Elke stared at Kiran. “What the hell is it? Some kind of fungal infection?”

  “Remember those biosuits they put us in? When they brought us across to the Gremium?”

  Elke nodded.

  “Well, mine had a tear in it. Just here, in the sleeve.” Kiran’s eyes were closed again. “Something must have got in and infected me, before they inoculated us.”

  “Shit.” Elke sat back on her heels. “Maybe you should go and see—”

  “See a medic?” Kiran hugged her arm to herself, the angry tension back again. She gave Elke a sour look. “What, and get shot, or whatever they do to get rid of inconvenient damaged goods?”

  “No. Of course. You’re right.” Elke rose to her feet. “Can I bring you anything? Water?”

  But Kiran was already pushing away her blanket. “No, don’t worry.” She sat for a moment, head bowed, as if gathering strength before she got up.

  “Hey.” Betina’s voice was slurred with sleep. “What’s going on?”

  “Time to get up,” said Elke. “Nehi and the others have left already.”

  “They have?” Betina squinted against the rapidly strengthening light.

  “We’ve got the place to ourselves,” said Kiran. “I’m going to go have a bath in that trough out there, before anyone else shows up.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” Mell still had her blanket pulled up nearly to her eyes. “Those critters they got in there...”

  But Kiran was already on her way out, with no hint of weakness in her stride or posture.

  Mell groaned as she stretched herself under her blankets. “Think they’ll give us breakfast?”

  As Elke climbed down the ladder, she felt once again the hot, tight pain in her lower abdomen. Damn. She calculated rapidly but couldn’t remember exactly when she’d last had her period. All I need now!

  She went out to the latrine. It smelled like any latrine she’d ever used, damp, and a little earthy. Her underwear showed no inconvenient stains, and the cramp had subsided. When she’d relieved herself, she stepped out into the morning air.

  Kiran was at the water trough, stripped to the waist, left arm was submerged in the water. She tensed and turned at Elke’s step, but relaxed when she saw who it was.

  “Come and see,” she said.

  Elke tried to ignore the firm curves of Kiran’s naked torso as she bent to look at her arm.

  “Check it out,” said Kiran. Her arm was covered in rank upon rank of skritti, grazing on the peculiar growths.

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” Elke dipped her own hands in the water and washed her face, careful to avoid scooping up any skritti.

  “It’s working, look.” Kiran brushed some skritti away. They’d already eaten most of the growths right down to the skin. All that was left were a series of blurred purplish marks, that could easily be mistaken for bruises.

  “Hey!” Mel’s voice boomed from the door. “You two, hurry up and get dressed. Something’s happening out there.”

  Elke hurriedly completed her washing. Something was certainly happening out in the courtyard. A bell clattered among a growing hubbub of voices.

  Out in the courtyard they found that everyone was on the move, arranging themselves into groups and lines, glancing at one another’s arm bands.

  “Shit.” Betina stared around, then looked helplessly at Elke. “Can you read this thing?” She touched her armband. “I think we’re supposed to go to our number or something.”

  Elke shook her head, but Kiran snagged a finger under Betina’s band. “You’re—damn. I don’t know how to translate that. Mati seventeen-sitta?” She laughed at Betina’s baffled expression. “Listen. They’re calling it out.”

  Guards were standing at various points around the courtyard, repeatedly bellowing the same words. A man nearby was shouting something that sounded like “sittaset!”, and further along a red-faced woman was bellowing “Tisit! Tisit!” at the top of her voice.

  Kiran grabbed Betina and Mell by the elbows. “The two of you are both Mati-sittas, you go to the same place. Elke, you just hang in there for a sec, I’ll be right back and find where you’re supposed to go.”

  Before Elke could respond, the three of them disappeared into the crowd. She looked around, half thinking of retreating into the can-stack, but there were already too many people between her and the door.
r />   Soon Elke was being shoved and jostled along. A man grabbed her by the arm, looked at her armband, and shouted at her angrily, shoving her so roughly that she nearly fell. Another man seized her by the back of her shirt and marched her across the courtyard, ranting all the way in some incomprehensible language.

  He deposited her at the far side of the courtyard, near a group of people who stood lined up against the wall, dusty and resigned. Some of them looked like realsiders, but they all avoided her gaze.

  Elke pulled her shirt straight and went to join them. She tried to read the numbers on the others’ armbands, but the script still meant nothing to her.

  Kiran was nowhere in sight, and Elke’s stomach twisted as she remembered her friend’s flushed face and bloodshot eyes. She tried to reassure herself that Kiran would be fine, that she could look after herself, and that her symptoms would not get any worse.

  ¤¤¤

  A few more people joined their group, and after a tedious wait, two guards came to lead them out.

  No breakfast for us, then. Elke tried to keep track of the route they took, but the corridors branched and curved and curled back on themselves. Soon she was hopelessly lost, with no idea where she was in relation to the slave-court.

  At last the corridor spat them out into a natural cavern which must once have been open to the sea. A massive sea-wall curved across the opening, creating a harbour in its shelter.

  The booming rush of breakers filled the air, and under that, the gentle lapping of wavelets. Boats bobbed at the piers, small craft remarkably like the Realside fishing boats in Kaapstadt harbour. The inner wall of the cavern, pockmarked with windows, rose over their heads and curved into an overhanging ceiling.

  The guards marched them over sand that crunched with shells to a series of shacks right on the edge of the harbour. Here they were made to wait again.

  Elke took the chance to study her surroundings. People were busy on the boats, tidying away ropes, fixing nets, or getting ready to set sail.

  Something about the scene seemed wrong, but it took her a moment to realise what it was—the harbour was almost unbelievably clean. Even the best beaches back in the Real were littered with rubbish, and the harbours were far worse. Kaapstadt harbour was rainbow-slicked with oil and clogged with the detritus of humanity.