Debris (27 page)

  But Tsana shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't. I disgraced myself. So did you. And I don't think I really saw anything that day, maybe I'm just feeling guilty. It was my fault you got hurt so badly. That must be it. I'm sorry. Really."

  I looked away from her pale face, from the panic and the fear there. Perhaps she was not the best ally to have. Perhaps she wasn't strong enough to help me. Or so inclined.

  "So." She cleared her throat. "What are you doing now?"

  With a frown, I turned back to her. How could she not know? But then, I hadn't known what it took to make a debris collector before my fall.

  "I can see debris, Tsana. I'm a collector."

  "Oh." She lifted her head from its conspiratorial tilt, levering her shoulders away from mine. And as cold air rushed into the distance she had put between us I realised this was where residual respect ended, and the realisation that I was different began. I had told Devich. I had always known. I did not belong with these people any more. "That explains why Vladir likes you. He's fascinated by debris." She shifted, barely half an inch, but away from me. "Is it that terrible?"

  "Collecting? Not really. Dirty, disgusting sometimes. Not terrible."

  Tsana gazed into the garden as I answered, showing the graceful line of her jaw, the fine muscles in her neck.

  "There's a lot of walking," I continued.

  "Oh."

  When would she excuse herself? Had she assumed I was still an architect, was that why she had bothered to talk to me again? A scarred architect with a horrible past, but a binder of some skill?

  Something in me refused to let her go, refused to be snubbed by a pretty fool with family connections who had nearly succeeded in killing me.

  "Will you do me a favour, Tsana?"

  I regained her attention. "A favour?"

  "Yes. Repayment, let's say."

  Her straight back grew rigid, her jaw set. But she nodded jerkily. "Of course, anything I can give you."

  Did she think I was going to ask for kopacks? "I need to borrow your skill to fix something. I can't do it. Not any more."

  "What is it?"

  "A hole in the ceiling where I work. Foot or so wide, a few inches deep. Cement."

  "Is that all?"

  I remembered days when that could be considered small. "That's all."

  "Payment." She dug into a small pocket in her skirt and drew out a slide. Small, glass and impenetrable. "Have a messenger contact me. We will arrange where and when."

  That easy, was it, when I couldn't use the slide and couldn't even afford a coach ride to her door? But I took it anyway, rather than explain. I would walk to Tsana's doorstep one Rest, and arrange a time with her maid. I wasn't above those things, was I? To get Sofia off my back.

  I held the slide tight against my palm. Its edges were hard, and bit into my skin. "Thank you, Tsana."

  "You are welcome, Tanyana." She stood with the same sweep of her skirts. "I should return. My mother can fret if she does not know where we are. Old families are made and broken by their honour."

  I remained sitting. "I'll contact you soon."

  Tsana nodded and hesitated for a moment, before gathering her dress and hurrying out of the shadows and back into the mansion.

  I held the slide and sat in the darkness.

  Above and behind me, music played, people laughed, and the smell of food wafted out to churn my stomach.

  How long could I sit hidden in the cold shadows?

  "There you are."

  I turned to see Devich leaning against the mansion wall, looking down at me like I was a lost kitten, or an errant puppy. Light from the window striped his face with warm, diffused lines.

  "You're missing the toast," he chided me, not really angry, rather amused.

  I stood. "Where did you go?"

  He chuckled. "Missed me? You had Lord Sporinov and his closest cronies eating out of your palms like a bowing, preening flock of pigeons." He grinned at his own wit. "You didn't need me at all!"

  "I didn't say I needed you." How had he convinced me to come here? How had I allowed myself to believe nothing had changed? I was too different now; I had moved on. "I think it's time to leave."

  Devich, taken aback, tried take my hand. I didn't let him. "They are toasting, Tanyana. You know it's rude to leave before the toasts are finished."

  "No one will notice."

  He opened his mouth to protest.

  I said, "They won't."

  For a moment I thought Devich would leave me to fend for myself, as he glanced over his shoulder to the open doors and the carpet of light running down to the carriageway. Was the landau waiting for us? Had Devich paid the driver? Could I walk home before dawn came?

  But he sighed, and shook his head. "This is a mistake. But if you really want to leave, we will."

  "I do."

  Devich held out his hand again and I continued to ignore it. I walked past him, and heard his shuffling feet follow slowly.

  Applause echoed from the open doors. I headed for the stairs, but a low, gravel-dry laugh slowed me. A man leaned against stone beside one of the large open doors. His face was hidden in shadow, save for the fiery end of a cigar he was sucking.

  "Don't like them either," the man said in a voice as dry as his laughter. "I've tipped my glass at too many toasts, and they never change." He straightened, and stepped from the shadow.

  I realised then how very old he was. He stooped beneath a coat that was too big for him, and walked slowly, his shoulders hunched, his knees bent. Faint wisps of pale hair hung like cobwebs over a bald and sun-spotted head. His eyes were sunken, blue lost in watery red, and his hand, where it clutched the ivory head of an ebony walking stick, shook so the point rattled against stone. The long, thin cigar remained in his mouth as he walked and he breathed smoke in and out with every pronounced breath.

  A bright pin lanced his silver necktie. On its woven pewter head, a bear roared. An ancient ruby was clutched in its jaws.

  Devich sketched a sharp bow. "My lord Sporinov."

  The old man chuckled. "You're a sharp one."

  It took me a moment to understand. This was Vladir's father, surely.

  "Thank you, my lord." Devich glanced at me, and made tipping movements with his head.

  I repressed a groan and bowed instead. "My lord." Why was it so difficult to leave this place?

  "You're a lady?" The old man leaned forward, putting so much weight on his walking stick it bent, and peered at me. "Don't look much like a lady to me." He laughed again. "But don't let that upset you. Nothing looks much like it used to do."

  It hadn't upset me.

  "Ah, now I know you." A smattering of empty spaces broke up the teeth as he smiled. "You're the one Vladir's so excited about. You're the Unbound."

  From legend, from children's tales and fanciful stories, that word reached out to grab me.

  "Unbound?" I whispered.

  "Heard that before, haven't you? Didn't you know what you were? Didn't my son tell you?" He made a strange snorting sound. "Acts like he knows everything, doesn't he? I can still teach him a few things, if he'd shut his mouth long enough to listen."

  I knew what I was. "I am a debris collector."

  "That's a pretty name for this new age. Not always called that, you know. Didn't always collect, did the Unbound."

  Didn't they? What other purpose could we have, if not to collect the waste of the world and keep its systems working smoothly, cleanly?

  Devich, suddenly, was at my side, gripping my elbow, turning me around. "Your pardon, my lord," he said to the old man. "But our coach is waiting."

  "Well, go and catch it. I won't keep you." He shuffled so he could look over his shoulder through the open doors. "Toasts still going? I'd never bore my guests like this." He spat out the nib of his cigar, still glowing. "Yugeve? A cigar, boy! A cigar!" And he shuffled slowly inside, calling to some servant I couldn't see.

  I turned. Sure enough, the landau was waiting. The driver had been watching us with interest, but was suddenly absorbed in his own knees.

  I allowed Devich to guide me into the coach. We sat in silence as it slid through the streets of Movoc-underKeeper. When it pulled up at my apartment I opened the door myself, dropped to the paving stones, and had unlocked my front door before Devich had even paid the driver.

  I was about to close the door when Devich hurried up the path. He jammed an arm in the gap and winced as I pushed against it. "What are you doing?"

  "Good night, Devich."

  "Not without an explanation. And please, keep doing that. Let's see who tires first."

  I took my weight off the door, and he nudged it open. With a sigh I stepped away and he entered the hallway, rubbing his arm, pouting.

  "What's wrong?" He wasn't exactly angry, but he was close to it. Somewhere in between anger and hurt. "Why did we have to leave like that? Why did you jam my arm in there?"

  Only then did it occur to me that he could have let himself in, whether I had shut the door or not. I had opened myself to this man. He wasn't going away that easily. "I told you I didn't belong with those people any more. And tonight only proved that."

  He shook his head.

  I scowled at him, and tore the scarf from my neck. I picked at the shirt buttons near my wrists and pulled the whole thing over my head. It felt better without the bulk of clothes.

  "Tanyana." Devich stepped very close. One hand cupped my chin, the other slid over my hair. Gently, he placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Tonight I saw you hold the attention of some of the most powerful men in Movocunder-Keeper, and the whole of Varsnia itself. I saw you walk into a room filled with the rich and the powerful with your head held high, with your back straight, and a bearing that said 'This is who I am, and I don't really care what you think about that'. Do you know how amazing you looked beside the puffed-up finery and the artificial smiles? You were magnificent, you are magnificent." Both of his hands held my head. "I wish you could see that."

  I wanted to ask him if he'd seen the woman who was once my subordinate lose all her respect for me. Or if he knew what it was like to be treated like an oddity, like a specimen under glass. But his smiling lips were so close, and his hands were so warm. And Devich had made a place for himself among those people, he had been given the invitation, and he had melded well into the dancers and the feasters and the drinkers. If he thought I belonged there, if he still respected me and knew me as a woman, not an insect, then perhaps I did.

  It was enough. Enough to let go of the angry ache in my belly. Enough to lean against him as he kissed me, and work the buttons in his sleek shirt. As he did the same to my ill-fitting pants I remembered the jar of pills in my drawer and wondered how long they would last.

 
 
 
 

Dawn, Mornday, with the Tear splitting silent and smooth around the prow of the near-empty ferry. In the raw sunlight on river spray, I thought of the Unbound.

  The Unbound were troublemakers, always in the background, always sabotaging the work of good, honest pion-binders. They were the figures in dark cloaks who would not show their face.

  My mother had told me few fairy tales when I was a child. "You should learn about real life," she would tell me, "because in real life there are no magic solutions, there are no first sons to sweep you from the arms of dark danger. There is hard work, kopacks, and status. Remember that."

  But I knew a few. There was one about a knight and his princess. Rusclan and Ludmilla. On the day they were to marry Ludmilla was carried away by one of Rusclan's rivals. Through many trials Rusclan hunted and found his beloved. But that wasn't the point. The point was his supposedly faithful and Unbound friend, the only man Rusclan would trust with his powerful and pion-strengthened sword. The night after Rusclan had regained his bride his friend broke that trust, and killed the hero with his own weapon.

  After which Rusclan was healed by a good binder and went on to save the princess again and probably the day. Something like that. But again, that wasn't the point. It was the Unbound that called to me, skulking from his place in the darkness. What could it have felt like to play shadow to a knight like Rusclan, to care for his pionpowerful sword when all it looked like to you was a hunk of steel? Would you feel used?

  The man didn't have a name. He was just Unbound.

  So, that's what I was. Untrustworthy, unnamed. Unbound.

  I felt dark against the rays of the new sun. But as I disembarked from the Tear and made my way toward Darkwater I realised how wrong the fairy tales were. We did not skulk in the darkness because we belonged there. We stuck to the darkness because that was where we had been pushed. Because of the crowds and the offended looks.

  And because that's where the debris was. If debris didn't like the shadows, the crevices, the cracks and the darkness, then we wouldn't have to walk in it.

  Debris skulked, we merely followed.

  Breakbell had not yet sounded as I reached the door to the sublevel, but it was unlocked – Kichlan had arrived before me. I glanced up before I stepped into the stairwell and caught sight of clouds rushing over the Keeper's Peak, whipped along by a wind as strong as the Tear's current had been. They shaded the promising morning sun.

  Sure enough, Kichlan and Lad were alone in the sublevel, and both avidly poking at a young fire.

  "Morning," I said, and shrugged off my heavy jacket. It was pleasant in the sublevel, warm and sleep-inducing, far nicer than the outside promised to be. "Clouds are coming." Hands thrust out, I warmed myself by the struggling flames.