He halted a few steps away. ‘Medame Reen?’ When she nodded the man frowned and continued, ‘We were getting worried. You’re quite late and we only have an hour before the cathedral is re-opened to the public.’
A huge, skeletally-thin Christos-figure hung over the altar. The statue’s drooping head said that there was little hope, even for believers, and none at all for the damned.
Elarn forced herself to look away from the image. ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’
‘We can do introductions later. Shall we go straight into the
Requiem
?’
Elarn followed him up the nave to where the singers had arranged themselves in four neat rows in the choir stalls, leaving her alone in the middle. The glorious rose window at the end of the aisle showed scenes of martyrdom and redemption. She looked away.
The organ played the first few bars of the familiar music. The choir came in softly and Elarn closed her eyes, waiting for the music to carry her away. The moment passed. Her voice deserted her.
The singers faltered, then stopped. Elarn opened her eyes to see their conductor frowning at her, hand upraised. ‘Shall we start again?’ he said.
Elarn nodded dumbly.
This time she tensed, ready to jump in on her cue, and she managed to force out a note that was in tune and in time, but it sounded strained and unnatural. Her breath wouldn’t come and, as she raised her voice, as the sound started to build, she felt something else rising within her.
The scream.
In surrendering herself to Vidoran she had removed one more barrier. It wanted to come out.
She stopped, biting down on the note.
The conductor looked at her, consternation on his face. Unable to return his gaze she muttered, ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this, not now.’ She fled down the aisle, tears making the candles swim and dip in her vision.
What little comfort had ever been offered by the church was no longer available to her. She was damned. She should never have come here.
Outside she hailed the first pedicab she saw, but when the driver turned to ask her destination she hesitated. Her hotel room was the closest she had to a safe space, but if Salik didn’t get an answer from her com, he might go there to find her. If she saw him in the flesh, she would not be able to resist him. She would believe whatever he told her.
She needed to know the truth. And she needed to go somewhere Salik would not find her, for she didn’t dare see him again until she knew she could trust him.
She told the driver to head for Talisman Street.
Taro stumbled out of Nual’s arms into the noise and bustle of Chow Street. The sounds and scents of the ‘Street of a Thousand Flavours’ wafted up to greet him and he drew in a deep breath, inhaling the smells of frying meats, spices and burnt sugar. The early morning crowds scattered, casting curious, fearful glances at the Angel and the half-naked downsider. Taro swayed for a moment, gravity pulling at his battered body.
Nual raised her wrist. ‘All right, you bastard,’ she said into her com. ‘You’ve got my attention.’
She lowered her arm and gave Taro a tired smile. ‘He’ll be here soon. Meantime, we should eat.’
She took his hand and led him across the Street to a stall with a brightly striped awning. The small queue at the stall moved aside as they approached. Nual ordered two steaming paper cups of noodle soup, then led him to a seat near the fence where they sat down side by side. Though it felt odd to be stuffing noodles into his mouth when the world was falling apart, Taro found he was ravenous.
He was halfway through his soup when she placed her barely touched cup down by the seat and stood.
The Minister was coming down the steps from the circle-car station. Though his face below the shadow of his hat wore its usual expression of faint, fatherly interest, he was actually hurrying, taking the steps two at a time. Taro found his haste freaky; downside legend had it that he never hurried for anything.
Taro stood too, but he didn’t cross his arms or drop his gaze. He doubted the Minister would have noticed anyway; all his attention was on Nual, and hers on him. Something about the way they looked at each other told Taro that, as he’d suspected, their relationship went beyond master and minion. For a wild moment he wondered if they’d once been lovers.
They faced each other silently for half a dozen heartbeats. Then the Minister looked away from Nual and addressed Taro. ‘I see you have thrown your lot in with her. I thought that might happen.’
‘Aye, sirrah, I ’ave,’ he said, trying to keep the shake out of his voice.
The Minister looked back at Nual. ‘What surprises me more is that you chose to let him live.’
Nual spoke in a low, even tone. ‘Aye. And I decided to trust him too. In fact, I trust him more than I trust you.’
The Minister raised a slender eyebrow. ‘I’m hurt.’
‘So hurt you felt the need to set your Angels on me.’
‘You ignored a direct order. I had no choice.’
‘The orders were intercepted. It took a while to recover them.’
‘Intercepted?’ The Minister gave Taro a cool look. Taro, to his surprise, found he wasn’t afraid. He’d done his best to obey the Minister. He’d nearly died trying to protect the orders. He no longer felt any guilt at his failure; if anything, he felt angry. He’d let himself be used, and what had he received in return? He’d had no help, been given no reward. He said nothing.
The Minister cleared his throat. ‘Is there anything you - either of you - feel I should know about recent events in the Undertow?’
Taro looked at Nual, and saw her mouth curl into a smile. ‘No,’ she said.
‘You always did like your privacy,’ the Minister said. ‘I can’t make you explain yourself, but I can order your death if you disobey me. Or should I tell my loyal Angels that you have not gone rogue after all?’
‘If you mean,’ said Nual slowly, ‘will I perform the removal, then the answer is no, of course not. Elarn Reen is not a politician and ordering me to kill her is illegal.’
‘Technically, that is entirely true,’ the Minister agreed affably. ‘But one must adapt to survive, and such desperate times sometimes call for a little rule-breaking. And asking you to kill her
did
finally get your attention.’
‘Simply telling me she was on Vellern would have done that.’
The Minister looked sceptical. ‘Are you telling me that you really had no idea she was here?’
Taro wondered who in the City’s name Elarn Reen was, and what she’d done that was so bad the Minister wanted her dead.
Nual, sensing his confusion, turned to him. ‘Elarn Reen was someone I trusted, long ago. She was listed as my legal guardian on the ID I had when I arrived in Khesh City, which is how he’ - she nodded in the Minister’s direction - ‘knows about her. She lives on a world a long way from here and, given that she never wanted to see me again, I had assumed that was where she would stay.’
‘As had I,’ the Minister agreed. ‘From what little you told me I hardly expected her to follow you here.’ His voice grew hard. ‘Incidentally, my dear, just how far did you say you trusted this young downsider?’
Nual laughed, as though she had been caught out but didn’t care. She lowered her voice and whispered to Taro, ‘He hates it when I answer questions before they are asked.’
Taro gawped, then stuttered, ‘You mean he knows—?’
‘—what she is?’ interrupted the Minister. ‘Of course I know she’s Sidhe. But it was a condition of her remaining in my City that she never use her powers without my consent.’
Nual finally looked at the Minister. ‘And the rules of the Concord state that only politicians can be removed. Desperate times, as you say.’
‘Ah.’ He turned to Taro and said, ‘That’s me told.’
Taro couldn’t tell whether the Minister was amused or furious.
Nual sighed and shook her head. ‘I have spent seven years pretending not to be what I am - but no more, not if my sisters are coming after me. And to answer your question, I meant what I said. I trust Taro completely.’
Taro felt a terrifying rush of pleasure - she
did
love him. He just hoped he could survive that love.
‘And, sirrah,’ she drawled the title mockingly, ‘believe it or not, I had no idea Elarn was here until I read your order to kill her.’
The Minister nodded, ignoring her tone. ‘I have no reason to doubt that. Nevertheless, she is here, and she has already invested considerable effort in trying to trace you. I have yet to establish precisely why, but I feel it is unlikely that she wants to renew your friendship.’
‘You think the Sidhe sent her?’
‘None of my scanners have picked up anything, so she’s not a glamoured Sidhe, or anything as unsubtle as that. She’s not even, as far as I can tell, under direct Sidhe influence. But we both know how devious those bitches can be, and I hardly think the woman would come to the Three Cities by choice. The most logical conclusion is that they are behind her decision to visit Vellern.’
‘And what do you want me to do about it? You can hardly expect me to kill my friend simply because you tell me to.’
‘If she is still your friend,’ the Minister pointed out. ‘No, I didn’t really expect you to accept the removal; ordering you to kill her was a way of shaking you up, to see how you responded. I took your lack of response to mean that you had your own agenda, possibly even that you knew she was here and had been in contact with her. I declared you rogue on the assumption that whatever you were up to, you were no longer loyal to me. However, given that you have -
finally
- started talking to me, I will call my Angels off.’
‘I would appreciate that.’
‘And as for what to do about Elarn Reen, well—’ He paused, and spread his hands, ‘I give you full leave to perform whatever obscene magics you require to find out why she’s really here. If she is a Sidhe agent, then at the very least you must convince her to leave my City - though I suspect if that is the case you might want to change your own plan and kill her. But I do need to know what she is really up to and who else is involved.’
Nual nodded. ‘Fair enough. I will go to her and I will find out why she’s here. But I will not kill her.’
‘Even if she is a Sidhe agent?’
Nual paused. After a moment she said, ‘Elarn is terrified of the Sidhe. If she is serving them willingly then she is no longer the woman I knew.’
‘Which would make it easier. And if her presence here is just a coincidence, then you can always just make her forget she ever met you, can’t you?’
Taro felt Nual rein in her anger. All she said was, ‘Where is she now?’
‘She is currently en route from Grace Street to the offices of a certain Ando Meraint, infobroker. You’ll find him about halfway down Talisman Street, above a big antiques emporium specialising in offworld fetish gear.’
‘I’ll find it.’ She shrugged her gun off her shoulder.
The Minister frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I am going as Elarn’s friend, not as your assassin, so I won’t be needing this.’ She handed the gun to Taro. When he hesitated, she whispered, ‘Don’t worry. It’s safe enough if you keep your fingers clear of the trigger-pad.’
Taro took the gun. It was lighter than he expected, almost as if this symbol of the Angels’ power no longer held the weight it once had - but he was still careful to hold it by the strap.
Nual turned back to the Minister. ‘I want you to re-code the gun so Taro can use it too.’
‘Now why should I want to do that?’
‘Because I am not likely to need it, given that you’ve as much as ordered me to use other methods. And because Taro has lost his family and his status, he’s been jerked around by everyone - including you, and me, at first - and yet he still remains loyal to the City. He deserves to be given the means to fight back. And he deserves honesty.’