Farlander (51 page)

‘The daily call,’ Ash said with a hint of contempt in his tone, and thrust his arms into the air, exposing them bare to the rain, as the sleeves of his cloak slid to his elbows.

Reluctantly, Nico followed his example, feeling like an idiot as he did so.

*

At six they caught a tram, a large carriage drawn by a team of twelve zels, their black-and-white striped coats steaming from their exertions. The sign over the door read:
Paradisio City
.

Ash slotted a half-marvel into the turnstile at the rear of the tram to gain access to board. Behind him, Nico did the same. There were no seats left, so Nico followed Ash’s example and gripped hold of the luggage rack running the entire length of the vehicle. The rack itself was stuffed with sacks of vegetables, rolls of cloth, even a crate of live chickens that watched Nico with their small, glassy eyes. He and Ash stood rocking to and fro as the tram worked its way through the heavy traffic of early evening, their swords carefully hidden beneath their rain cloaks. The passengers were subdued and the carriage strangely quiet save for the steady drum of rain against the windows and roof.

‘No one talks to anyone else,’ whispered Nico. ‘They don’t even look at each other.’

Master Ash smiled thinly. The carriage gradually emptied as the tram made one stop after another. At last some seats became available, and Ash and Nico made themselves comfortable. The old farlander immediately closed his eyes.

Nico noticed his forehead furrow in pain. With trembling fingers, Ash pressed his temple as though relieving a sudden pressure. He took out one of his leaves and placed it in his mouth.

‘You don’t look well,’ Nico observed.

In a weary voice, and with eyes still closed, his master replied: ‘This place does me no good at all, Nico. Wake me when we reach the last stop.’ And with that he wrapped his damp cloak tighter around himself, and was still.

*

The island of Q’os had four harbour bays, each created by the spaces between the ‘fingers and thumb’ known as the Five Cities. The First Harbour was a bay bounded on one side by the protrusion of land known as the thumb, and on the other side by that resembling the index finger.

Paradisio City, also known as the First City, was the largest entertainment district of Q’os, and occupied most of the land forming the island’s thumb. Its main thoroughfare ran along the coastline and looked out over the First Harbour and the eastern docks where Nico and Ash had rented their room. Crossing into this district, they could now clearly see the cluster of skysteeples surrounding the vast structure of the Shay Madi, the island’s newest and largest coliseum, whose flanks sprouted like a small hill rising above the suburbs around it. It was there the tram stopped for the final time, right in the shadow of the mammoth stadium itself.

Nico could only gape at the soaring bulk of arches and columns, as they stepped out into the drizzle with the last remaining passengers. The tram drew away, the zels looking tired but picking up speed with the lighter load and the lure of home. The journey had taken them the better part of an hour, if the public clock nearby was correct. They set off quickly, seeking refuge from the elements under the hoods of their cloaks.

Crowds of revellers pressed through the streets of Paradisio on their way to the stadium. This slowed progress for Ash and Nico, heading as they were in the opposite direction to this excited current. At last they came to a halt in a quiet side street. It had grown noticeably darker by the time a man on clacking stilts came into view, igniting each street light as he went.

‘Gas lights,’ Ash explained, just as Nico opened his mouth to ask. ‘The city sits on a reservoir of the stuff, so they utilize it wherever it comes up to the surface.’

Nico tried to imagine what the old man might mean by that.

‘Think of the fumes,’ Ash pre-empted him again, ‘that come from the back end of a pig. You can bottle that smell, or channel it, and so it will burn whenever you need it to.’

‘They bottle the gas coming from the arses of pigs?’

The old man sighed. ‘
No
, Nico, I was providing you with an example. But it makes use of the same principle.’

‘I had wondered why Q’os smelled so terrible.’

Ash turned to survey him. The old man stuck out his lower lip, then slid it slowly back again.

A group of women passed by, chattering in some dialect that sounded like Trade, though a strangled form of it, and entered the public bathhouse that he and Ash now stood facing. Hanging next to the entrance, a sign caught Nico’s eye. It was painted with what looked like a R
shun seal.

Ash ignored it as they entered the bathhouse behind the women.

Inside, he fed coins into a slot and gained them two clean towels, before moving on into the humid atmosphere of the changing room. It was empty save for a few men and women talking under the dim glow of the ceiling lights.

Nico stepped into an empty cubicle at Ash’s instruction. He waited there on his own while Ash himself ventured off out of sight. Nico listened to the conversations in the room outside, but they sounded dull, made little sense to him.

A sudden sound above his head caused him to look up. There was Ash, blinking down from the ceiling through a space made by the removal of a large wooden tile. Ash lowered a hand; Nico clasped it and was pulled up into the dark, dusty roof space.

‘These buildings share the same attics,’ Ash whispered into his ear. ‘We can reach our agent from here without being seen entering the house itself. No doubt it is being watched.’

Ash led the way through the gloom, treading with care along the beams rather than on the flimsy wooden tiles themselves. He held his sheathed sword out to one side for balance. Nico struggled not to sneeze from all the dust, and concentrated on keeping his own footing. He could see himself all too easily toppling off the beam, and crashing through the ceiling straight into some poor bather’s lap.

After a time Ash halted. He tugged loose another tile and laid it to one side, then shoved his head through, checking below. Satisfied, he lowered himself through the gap, then Nico clambered after him, agilely.

They stood in a small study, their damp backs warming against a fire of coals that provided the only source of light in the room. In a deep leather chair sat a woman, a book lying open upon her lap, though it was neither her shadowy figure nor the book which seized Nico’s attention. Rather it was the large pistol held in one hand, aimed unwaveringly at Ash’s chest.

For a moment everything in the room was still, save for the shadows flickering over the walls and the simple wooden furniture. Then a spark spat in the fireplace, and Nico jerked. The woman raised her free hand. Carefully, she placed a forefinger to her lips.

She lay the pistol down on a small table beside her chair, immediately followed by the book. Smoothly, she rose and stepped over to the fireplace, then motioned for Ash to come closer.

Nico followed after him, and noticed the seal hanging openly from the young woman’s neck as she crouched there and waited. He watched as she gestured to the chimney. Ash set down his sword and knelt on the floor, peering as best he could up the flame-lit chimney. He nodded, gathering up his sword, and rose to his feet just as she did.

She motioned silently again. Nico glanced back at the fireplace briefly, then followed them out of the room.

*

In a short, unlit hallway they turned aside from the kitchen area and entered the privy instead. It was a confined space, barely large enough for the three of them, and once the woman closed the sliding door, it was thrown into total darkness.

A match flared and guided itself towards the wall. It lit a wick standing in a bowl of oil nestled in a sooty alcove. As the flame slowly grew, the oil cast off the scent of honeysuckle. At least it helped to mask the foul smell of the room.

Once they could see each other again, the woman turned a spigot in another alcove housing a hand basin. The sound of running water filled the room.

‘We’re in trouble,’ she began in a low, husky voice, as she manoeuvred around Ash to sit herself on the privy, in an attempt to give them more room.

Then the wick caught properly and, light blossomed between them. Nico looked down upon a face he had dreamed about.

‘Serèse,’ he blurted.

The young woman held a finger to her lips. ‘You’re not safe here,’ she whispered. ‘The building is being watched.’

Ash nodded, unsurprised. ‘You look well,’ he observed.

She did look well, Nico thought, her hair hanging in plaits, her trim body encased in brown leather.

‘Well,
you
certainly don’t,’ she replied. ‘What have you been doing with yourself? You look awful.’

‘Thank you. Now tell me, how long have they been listening?’

Serèse shrugged. ‘I found the device in the chimney when I first returned to the city. They’d left a fingermark of soot where none should have been, for I’d cleaned carefully before I left.’ She shook her head. ‘Please listen to me, though. That’s hardly the problem just now. My father made a sweep of the surrounding area last night – you know how careful he likes to be – and there are Regulators, watching the agency from every side.’

‘Baracha made it to the city, then?’

‘Yes, but you’re still not listening. My father sent a note to me rather than visiting in person, saying how I should leave right away. I thought it best to stay until you arrived, though. He thinks the Regulators are watching the bathhouse as well as this place. Don’t ask me how, but they seem to know of the access route from there. They will have seen you go inside.’

Nico shot a glance at the old man.
Sweet Er
s
, he thought.
They might know that we’re here right now.

Ash considered this news, stroking a thumb against the sheath of his sword.

In the silence, Serèse looked up at Nico and attempted a brief smile.
She’s afraid
, he realized, and was glad to find that he was not the only one. For a moment, gazing at her, he was reminded of their brief encounter in the laundry room of Sato, her hair bedraggled by the steam. He could hardly connect that young woman with the one before him now.

‘The rendezvous?’ probed Ash. ‘Did your father mention it?’

‘Yes, he said he would meet you tomorrow as planned.’

‘Good. Then we leave now.’

‘Of course,’ said Nico. ‘We simply walk out of here, casual as you like, and they wave us on our way. I can’t think of a single thing wrong with that idea. Not a thing.’

‘We leave by the bathhouse when some others are leaving too. That will spread them thin, at least. It is the best we can do.’

Serèse agreed. She stood up and squirmed her way out into the hallway, her leather-clad back momentarily pressing up against Nico. He and Ash followed as she wrapped a dark red cloak about herself and grabbed a canvas rucksack she had already packed.

They gathered in the study. Ash chanced a peek through a slat in the shutters. Nico took the initiative, pulling the leather chair beneath the space in the ceiling and hauling himself up. He held his hand out for Serèse to take hold of, but she ignored it, and tossed her pack to him instead. She scrambled up next, and Ash came last, carefully setting the tile back in place.

The changing room was quiet as they climbed down into an empty cubicle. For some minutes they sat waiting, crammed together on the wooden bench. Nico could feel the heat of Serèse’s leg pressing against his own. He tried his best to ignore it.