Ketty Jay 04 - The Ace of Skulls (8 page)

‘There’s always room for a bit more,’ said Frey. ‘How are you, Drave? Been a while.’

‘And haven’t you been busy since?’ said Drave, with an unmistakably dangerous insinuation which Crake didn’t much like.

Crake’s eyes went to the man standing nearby. Many of the Century Knights were familiar to the public through ferrotypes and broadsheets or children’s trading cards. Morben Kyne’s was a picture that nobody forgot.

He was cloaked in black like Drave, but his armour was even finer, delicately moulded to his body, the colour of burnished copper. A large-bore pistol that was more like a cannon hung at his hip, along with a pair of exquisite shortblades.

But it was his face that was most arresting; or rather, the lack of it. A deep cowl hid him partially, but Crake could still see the bronze mask beneath. It was smooth but etched with rows of tiny, strange symbols. The mouthpiece was rectangular and protruded slightly, like the radiator grille of a motorised carriage, giving him a mechanical look. And indeed, he might have been some kind of automaton, for there was not a millimetre of skin to be seen. Artificial eyes shone from the shadow within the cowl, pallid green glitters in the dark.

‘Pelaru,’ said Drave, switching his attention to the whispermonger. ‘Didn’t expect to find you keeping such company.’

‘Captain Frey graciously agreed to escort me to you,’ Pelaru replied. ‘I have information.’

‘Don’t you always? And what’s your price?’

‘That we can discuss in private.’

Crake stopped listening to the conversation as he caught sight of the woman striding purposefully towards them across the landing pad. His insides fluttered with delighted fear.

It was her.

She was dressed with typical practicality. Grubby coat, scuffed boots, hide trousers. Twin lever-action shotguns, a cutlass at her belt. And that tricorn hat, made famous by the Press and ten thousand ferrotypes. She walked right up to him, ignoring Drave and the others.

There was intention in her step. He suddenly realised she was going to hit him again.

‘Miss Bree,’ he began to protest in an embarrassingly high voice. ‘I think you should—’

She swept off her hat, her dark hair falling free, then grabbed the back of his head and kissed him on the mouth. After a moment she let him go, stared hard into his eyes.

‘You,’ she told him firmly, ‘are late.’

Frey laughed. Drave made a noise of exasperated disgust. Pinn called him a jammy turd.

‘Mind if I borrow him?’ she asked Frey. ‘You kept him from me long enough.’

‘Be my guest,’ said Frey, smiling. ‘Just bring him back in one piece.’

‘Comin’?’ she asked Crake, and before he could reply or even get over the shock, she was away. He looked awkwardly around at his company and then followed.

By the time he’d caught her up, he found his voice again: ‘I tried to see you.’

‘I know you did,’ she said, still walking. ‘Adrek at the Wayfarers told me you’d been by.’

‘Three times,’ he told her, getting breathless from keeping up. ‘Whenever we were near Thesk. I sent you letters.’

‘I got ’em,’ she said. ‘That was sweet of you. Meant to send some back, but I’m not too much for writin’. This damn war, I been all over everywhere, barely had time to—’

‘Hey!’ He grabbed her arm. It seemed an unconscionably brave thing to do once he’d done it. She stopped and spun back towards him, looking faintly surprised. After that, there seemed no elegant way out of the situation but to seize her and kiss her properly.

Happily, she didn’t batter him for the liberty.

They slowed down a little after that, took their time, got used to one another again. Crake was still in something of a daze. He was used to being wrongfooted by her lack of propriety, but he’d never been so glad of it as today.

They walked through the camp, stepping over bits of uncleared rubble and cracks where weeds had pushed the stone apart. The air was still and cold, taut with expectation. A medical tent was being prepared – last night’s casualties had all been ferried to the frigate by now, Samandra explained – and scouts hurried here and there with messages. All around the edge of the landing pad, the crumbled city pressed in. They were an island in a sea of ruin.

‘Quite a thing we started, ain’t it?’ Samandra said, looking over to the west where the sun was sinking through a long wing of feathery cloud towards the shattered skyline. Crake wasn’t sure if she meant their relationship or the war, so he made a noise of agreement and waited for her to clarify.

‘We ain’t found the Azryx tech yet,’ she went on. ‘We know the Sammies were selling it to the Awakeners from those records Malvery found in the city, but that’s about all we do know. Not how much, not what it does, nothin’ like that. Even if they got something we should be scared of, might be they don’t have the first clue how to make it work. Still, it got the Archduke and his lady going. Final straw, as far as they were concerned.’

‘They took their time doing something about it. The Awakeners have been a plague on this country for years.’

‘Politicians, huh?’ She grinned. ‘Reckon they were a bit wary of ticking off half the population.’

‘It can’t be
half
of them fighting for the Awakeners. The country would be a bloodbath.’

‘Half of ’em are believers,’ said Samandra. ‘But there’s a long way between a believer and someone willin’ to fight and die for a cause. Specially when you’re fightin’ against somethin’ you don’t much want to.’

‘They’re siding with us? Even in the country?’

‘You should’ve seen the parades in Thesk when the Lady Alixia was born. They love the Archduke and Archduchess, and they love having a new heir. Most people’ve had it pretty good since the Coalition took down the monarchy. Besides, it ain’t the
belief
in the Allsoul we’re tryin’ to stamp out. People can believe what they want. It’s the sons of bitches stealin’ from their pockets we’re tryin’ to take down. The ones at the top.’

‘I imagine Maurin Grist’s research that showed the Awakeners were employing daemons in their ranks must have shaken things up a bit, too.’

‘Some of ’em are scared by that,’ she agreed. ‘Rumours been flying since midsummer. They’re beginnin’ to think it just might be true.’ She jammed her hat back on her head and adjusted the tilt. ‘People ain’t stupid. It’s just the fanatics we’re fightin’. Don’t matter what you tell
them
.’

Crake found himself lost in admiration for her penetrating insight into the popular attitude. Then he shook himself and realised that he was probably just in love.

‘And what are the Awakeners doing here?’ he asked, waving a hand to indicate the city all around them.

‘That we don’t know. But whatever they’re up to, we caught ’em on the hop. Been driving ’em back towards the chasm. Soon they’re gonna have to run for it or we’ll push ’em off.’

‘Can’t you just fly over the top, get behind them or something?’ Crake said.

‘They brought anti-aircraft guns. Not like ours, but enough to take down anythin’ overhead. So we have to fly at night, and then you can’t see a damn thing among the broken buildings. They’ve got the chasm at their back, so gettin’ over that way would be more trouble than it’s worth.’ She pursed her lips in consternation. Crake found that unbearably pretty. ‘They’re dug in tight. Question is, what are they doin’ here in the first place? Where’s the sense fightin’ over Korrene?’

‘Because the Allsoul told them to?’

She gave him a wry look.

‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘They believe in predictions and patterns and all of that. I mean, they really
believe
the Allsoul can show them the future. Maybe one of the Grand Oracles just flipped the wrong card and they ended up invading this heap of rubble.’

‘So what would’ve happened if they flipped the right card?’

‘They’d have tried to invade the sea.’

She laughed at that, a loud and indelicate laugh not at all befitting a lady. It was music to his ears anyway. ‘I’d love it if they were that dumb,’ she said. She tipped back her hat and scratched under the brim. ‘Anyway, probably we’ll never know. Goin’ in for a big push in a few hours. If this don’t drive ’em out, nothin’ will.’

She looked him over as if something had occurred to her. ‘Wait, why are you here anyway? I mean, not that I ain’t glad.’

Frey had told them to keep it quiet, but Crake had promised himself he wouldn’t deceive Samandra again. Not after last time. It was an easy decision to make.

‘Officially, we’re escorting that whispermonger, Pelaru. Unofficially, we’re looking for his business partner. He disappeared in the fighting, while he was searching for treasure or something. Honestly, I didn’t ask too much. It’s important to the Cap’n, that’s all I know.’

‘Huh,’ said Samandra. ‘Frey and his schemes, eh?’

‘You have to admire his sense of adventure.’

‘That you do.’

‘Well, no doubt you’ll be able to get in there and get your hands dirty if that’s what you’re after. We’ve already got half the Shacklemores working for us, nobody’s going to say no to a few more guns.’

Crake felt his mouth go dry. ‘Half the—?’ he began, and then stopped.

‘Yeah. Shacklemores. Look.’ She pointed over at where a group of men were bivouacked on the edge of the landing pad, dressed in dour trench coats and low black hats, cleaning their shotguns. ‘Lot of bounty hunters have gone merc for the Navy. Pay’s better in these troubled times.’

Shacklemores. Spit and blood, after all this time I’d almost forgotten they were after me.

Samandra became concerned. ‘Oh, hey, you’ve gone all pale. You worried about the fight? I forget how shit you are with a gun sometimes.’ Then she grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about a thing, you brave little daemon-botherer. I’m gonna be needed on the front line, but you got your friends to look after you. Come the mornin’, this’ll all be over, and after that I’m damn well due a couple days off.’

When he didn’t reply, she nudged him. ‘Well? How about it?’

‘How about what?’

‘Two days. Leave. Go somewhere?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Do I got to
throw
myself at you?’

It suddenly clicked into place. ‘Oh! Er . . . yes! Yes, of course! And if the Cap’n has a problem with it, well, I’ll just quit or something.’ He gave her an unsteady grin.

‘Well, alright then.’ She smiled. ‘So you just keep yourself safe till then, you hear?’

Crake glanced at the Shacklemores one last time, then looked away before they could notice his attention. ‘I aim to,’ he said.

Six

Harkins Takes Flak – A Warzone – ‘Now We Got a Problem’ – Dynamite – Jez Is On Her Game

H
arkins screamed as the night sky exploded in front of him. He banked away from the blast, his Firecrow rattling and shuddering as it was battered by concussion. Shrapnel pinged off the canopy, inches from his head.

All across Korrene, the darkness was lighting up. Anti-aircraft guns spat explosive shells at the half-seen shapes slipping low over the city streets. Tracer fire drifted up from colossal autocannons. The Coalition aircraft flew without lights, sallying out from the safety of the forward base. They were ferrying hundreds of soldiers to strategic drop-points in the heart of the shattered city. From there, they intended to encircle the Awakener troops and drive them out for good.

Harkins didn’t care about their grand plan. He was only concerned with making it to tomorrow.

Another shell exploded close by, shaking him violently in his seat. He screamed again.

‘Will you
shut up
, you brown-arsed pansy?’ Pinn yelled at him through the earcuffs. ‘I can’t think straight with you howling in my ear.’

You can’t think at all, you fat moron
. Harkins imagined himself saying it, pictured the look of shock on Pinn’s face. Maybe he’d be so angry he’d choke on his own porky cheeks and fly into a building. Wouldn’t that be fun?

But Harkins didn’t say anything. Pinn would only come back with something worse, and double his humiliation. He’d long ago learned that defiance got you nowhere.

The flak eased off as the guns aimed at other craft, and now they were all but invisible again. He looked for the
Ketty Jay
, having lost her momentarily, and found the glow of her thrusters in the dark. Pinn’s Skylance was somewhere nearby, tracking the larger craft just as he was.

Harkins tried to ignore the explosions and concentrated on following the Cap’n. He wasn’t too sure where they were going – he didn’t concern himself with stuff like that – but he wasn’t too happy that the whispermonger was calling the shots. He didn’t like newcomers at the best of times, and especially foreigners, who were not to be trusted. Even Silo, whom he’d known for years, made him uneasy on account of being Murthian.

Then again, most people unsettled him for one reason or another. And none more than Jez, nowadays. He couldn’t believe he’d actually
fancied
her once upon a time.

Another explosion lit up the
Ketty Jay
’s lumpy, ugly form in silhouette. She slewed away to port and Harkins followed, his teeth gritted with the effort of keeping quiet. He’d flown through much heavier fire than this before, but it distressed him nonetheless. At least you could see your enemy in a dogfight. With anti-aircraft guns, you were just waiting for a shell to come from nowhere and blow you to pieces. The tension was awful.

He tried to reassure himself.
It’s not so bad. Looks worse than it is.

And it was true. Muzzle flashes lit up small patches in the broken sea of buildings beneath them, but there were not many guns, and their shots were speculative. Already he saw Coalition craft sinking down towards the streets, their belly lights coming on as they dropped below the flak, easing themselves into their designated landing spots.

‘How’d he get to be such a good pilot when he’s such a chickenshit?’
Ashua’s words from last night. He thought she was probably trying to be kind, but she had a rough way of showing it which he didn’t like.