Even Hell Has Knights (Hellsong) (17 page)

Ole Bense?

“We used to eat the best, you know. Better than the villagers. But Hell dried up. We eat worse now. But we do all this hard work. That was going to change. Sure, we got spider eggs now. That’s why I’m saving up, you know. Aaron says it’s the calm before the storm. Something’s coming, something big. Hell’s going through changes, you know. It does that sometimes, when too many people are dying.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About four years. I used to hunt under Michael.”

“Only four years?”

“For some, that’s a long time, princess.”

She nodded. “Have you seen Hell change before?”

“No.”

What was it Turi had told her when they first met? It had stuck in her head for some reason.

You cannot judge what you do not know.

She stared at the strange, sad man who sat beside her and marveled at the attention that he paid the urn. It was as if it had him hypnotized.

Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad.

“My favorite is the seagulls,” he said. “You see how they get smaller as they go back? It gives the thin
g
. .
.
”

“Perspective?”

“Perspective. Yeah. That’s it. That’s what every pot needs.”

The man was snoring gently by the time Turi came back out of the Fore. Turi had a sour look on his face.

“He didn’t want me, did he?”

Turi shook his head. “No. No he didn’t. I’m sorry. I tried.”

“Turi, it’s okay. I didn’t want to live here anyway.”

“It’s safer here.”

She touched his arm. “I know. But I’ll be fine. I know you’ll protect me.”

Aaron found Michael sitting in his favorite chair in the parlor room. The Lead Hunter took a seat on the couch.

“You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” Michael was holding a small piece of glass in his hands.

“You know I’ve always idolized you,” Aaron said. “Do I feel belittled because you went out and did something I can’t do? Yeah. It’s true. But it gives me faith, too. Father Klein warned me to be humble. I forgot how good you were, Mike. I stopped getting better as a hunter because I thought I was better than you.”

Michael smiled. “So tell me how you really feel.”

“What do you have there?”

Michael handed the glass pieces to Aaron.

“Chess pieces?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got Turi making them. Give us something more constructive to do in the Fore. Hell, maybe it’ll keep Davel’s damn mouth shut. Who knows?”

“I very seriously doubt a game could do that.”

Aaron stopped for a moment to consider the two knights Arturus had left behind. One was made of clear glass with streams of white caught up in it somehow. The other, made of a murky, dark glass, had streams of blood running through it. He wondered how they had been made. Next to such craftsmanship even some of Kylie’s creations would seem like the products of an amateur.

“So did you come to make peace, or is there business?” Michael interrupted Aaron’s thoughts.

Aaron handed him back the knights. “Both. You know some bastard poured corpsedust down Benson’s throat?”

“Jesus,” Mike leaned forward and began rubbing the back of his head.

“No one’s told you yet? I had Benson washed in the river. Mancini is funneling sinfruit juice down his throat. Fortunately we haven’t noticed the man’s piss smell because of all the spider guts.”

“Aaron, why didn’t you just shoot him?”

Aaron thought about that.

Did I save Benson just to disagree with Mancini?

“Might have been best,” he said. “Would’ve taken two bullets, though. One to kill him, and another to keep him down. Besides, Father Klein said that the stilling can last almost a year. That would probably outlast the corpsedust.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“I’ve got a man on it, and I shackled Benson’s feet together. But I’m more worried about why someone would do it.”

“Oh?”

“Molly seems to think it was a plot against the Fore. She says they wanted to get into Staunten’s storeroom.”

“Did you believe her?”

“The villagers were hungry, Mike. Very hungry. And they had to sit down there starving in their homes while they could look up at us stuffing our faces on the Fore’s balcony. She also seemed to think that a Citizen might be in on it, too.”

Michael sighed and began brooding.

“Did you enjoy it?” Aaron asked him. “Being out in the wilds again?”

Michael’s eyes came alive. “It’s insane. Aaron, a few years ago I would have done anything to get out of Hell. Showing you the ropes was almost more than I could bear. But now? I want it back. I want that torture. I feel like I’m cheating God’s justice by holing myself up where the devils can’t reach me.”

“You should feel grateful for what you’ve earned. The people in the village, they’d kill for what you have.”

“They would indeed,” Michael said. “I approve of how you handled Benson. You followed the law when it was easier not to. You’re a good man, Aaron.”

Or a coward.

“And yet,” Michael continued, “you want to change the law of the hunters’ rations.”

“I will follow the current law until it is changed. Those are the rules I agreed to follow when I swore into Harpsborough as a villager.”

“Jesus, you really are a good man. But it doesn’t look like that law will change now.”

“Maybe. The hunters are happy. They’re eating fine. The pressure is off of us. I understand the Fore wants us to go back to hunting full time, but until you say otherwise I’m letting them have a bit of a break. The food will run out, though. Unless you can go catch another spider, we’ll be right back where we were. I’m a patient man. Sooner or later, Mike, you’re going to have to change one of the rules, or the hunters won’t be any good to you.”

“Unless the devils come back.”

“Unless,” Aaron agreed.

Aaron stayed seated, but Michael didn’t appear to have anything more to say.

“If we split the food evenly, we wouldn’t have to pray for the devils to return,” Aaron said as he stood.

“Fair,” Michael said, “but people don’t work like that. This system works because we’re selfish. If we weren’t, we’d be in heaven, no?”

Aaron bit his lip and headed for the door.

“You are right, though,” Michael said, stopping the Lead Hunter in his tracks.

Aaron turned around.

Michael stood up and walked to the door tapestry that led to the dining balcony. He looked out through the crack between the curtain and the doorway.

“About what?” Aaron asked.

“About this being the calm before the storm. I thought that I’d feel it in my bones, if it were true. The settling, the missing dyitz
u
. .
.
it’s the dyitzu that bother me. They can sense the changes in Hell. That’s what I learned while I was Lead Hunter. We were designed by God, Aaron. We weren’t built for this place. But they, they belong here. They can smell it coming. They can feel it in their bones, and they’re running like rats leaving a sinking ship. Hell is changing.”

“We can run too, Mike. We can move the village. It’s not too late.”

Michael nodded, but said nothing.

Finally, Aaron left the parlor room.

He won’t run.

“These are the bishops,” Galen had told Turi as he was leaving to show Michael the new pieces he’d made. “In most situations they are slightly more powerful than a knight. They were called camels and elephants as well, in parts of the old world. Each king starts with two of them. The pair of them can be very important to preserve.”

“I still don’t know how to play,” Arturus had replied.

It was almost liberating to return to Harpsborough alone. The last couple of times he’d had Ellen in tow. This time he didn’t have to worry about the noise that she made when walking. Still, he did miss having someone to talk to. She was kind of funny, too, in her own way.

I think I just like protecting her.

But couldn’t he be making himself her crutch? Was he stopping her from being able to survive on her own?

She won’t learn too well dead, will she?

Michael would like the bishops. He was sure of it. The rooks would be easy to make, too. It was the Queen he was worried about. Galen had showed him the drawings, but Arturus felt that she should be something more impressive. He wanted to actually carve a woman and put her on the board. She would be regal, strong, the kind of woman that Galen would approve of.

The next turn would bring him to the Harpsborough guards.

I’m getting close.

“It’s Turi, don’t shoot.”

“Sure as hell won’t.” The call came back.

Arturus approached the entrance corridor. He could smell Harpsborough from out here. It smelled like sweat, piss, and warm spider guts. He recognized the hunters by face only.

“It’s daytime in there?”

“Sure as hell is, Turi,” one said. “If you’re here to see Michael, you better hurry on through. He’s going to be making a speech in the church in just a little bit.”

“I hope he doesn’t say anything too important,” the second one added, “since we’re not going to hear it.”

The first hunter shrugged. “He’ll just be talking about rationing the spider eggs. You know that’s what’s coming. He wants it to last, of course. We’ve been gluttons. I can hear Father Klein preaching in my head each time I take a bite.”

Arturus walked past them.

The smell of the city hit him full in the face.

He threw up a little in his mouth. It was an act of will to swallow it down and hold in his dinner.

I bet a hound could smell this place a mile away.

The entire village had been feasting rather than leaving during the day. Everyone was home. Everyone was sweating and breathing the same air. The city seemed hot, perhaps for that reason.

It was smoky, too, he realized, from the fires at the kiln and the fires at the still. He moved carefully through the crowd, heading to the Fore. Then he found himself face to face with Alice. His heart skipped a beat.

“Hi,” he managed.

“Hey Turi,” she said, flashing him a half smile. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? Oh, yeah. Ellen. She’s just a friend, but she’s good. Galen and Rick have been showing her how to survive and stuff. They gave her a gun. I’ve been showing her how to get here.”

Arturus noticed her pink bra strap had fallen off of one of her shoulders and then quickly looked away in embarrassment.

Did she see me looking? Who cares? She’s probably used to it by now.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the Fore, lately,” she was saying.

“Yeah. I’ve been making a chess set for the Citizens. Want to see?”

She nodded.

He showed her the two bishops, one clear with white streamers, the other dark with red. “I’m going to make the Queen next. That’s the best piece, so it has to look the best. I’m going to make the white one look like you.” He saw the worry in her blue eyes. She wasn’t comfortable with him speaking honestly about his feelings towards her, but he had expected that, and kept on speaking. “I’ll make the black Queen look like Chelsea.”

He watched his joke touch her face. At first she just seemed relieved that he hadn’t meant the words as a hopeless compliment. Then she laughed, without any hint of falsity, at the humor.

See, I’ll change your mind, one little bit at time. I’ll grow stronger, and you’ll get over Aaron. You’ll see.

“I better hurry on,” he told her. “I don’t want to interrupt the First Citizen’s speech.”

She nodded and waved goodbye.

He walked on, wondering if her eyes were on him. He imagined they were.

When he made it to the door tapestry he glanced back.

She was looking at him.

His heart skipped a few more beats.

I can do this.

“I can’t hear him,” Molly said to Alice. “Why’d he take so long to get here, anyway?”

“He was dealing with Turi.”

Alice could hear Michael’s drone echoing out of the church, though she couldn’t understand what he was saying. It couldn’t have been too important, otherwise the people inside would be making more noise.

One of the hunters picked little Julian up and placed him on his shoulders. Julian was short for his age and wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise.

“Fuck it,” Molly said. “We’ll just ask someone else later.”

“Just wait for Aaron,” Alice whispered.

“Oh, we’ll hear his big mouth, that’s for sure.”

Alice watched Molly try to stay patient for a few moments. The woman began chewing her lower lip while shifting back and forth.

“Jesus,” she said finally, “if the God damned Citizens didn’t take up four whole rows for themselves
, there’d be room for all of us in the church.”

The statement struck Alice as some sort of particularly profound analogy, if somewhat blasphemous. There would be food enough for all of Harpsborough if the Citizens didn’t hoard and gluttonize. Even more, if they actually worked. They would have been able to take in Turi’s new little friend as a villager. They would be able to feed the villagers and hunters. She wouldn’t have to be so damn hungry all the time. If it wasn’t for Julian, she probably would have starved to death by now.

“Thank God for Julian,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What?”

“Don’t say things like that, Molly. People can hear you.”

“Well, at least somebody can hear somebody—”

She was cut off by the hunter carrying Julian.

“Quiet, Aaron’s almost up,” he said.

When Aaron spoke, Alice could hear him clearly. She snickered fondly.

You and your big mouth.

“For our part,”
Aaron was saying,
“the hunters are going to resume hunting schedules tomorrow. We’ve given Hell a little time to recover, so maybe she’ll have some dyitzu for us. We’ll try and extend the time that we have left with our new rations of spider food. Besides, I think we’re all getting a little sick of those eggs anyway—”

“Speak for yourself!”
a man yelled loudly enough for Alice to hear.

The congregation laughed.

“At any rate,”
Aaron went on, laughter in his own voice,
“in case anyone else is sick of eating spider and is ready to trade the Fore for some meat, we’ll be back hunting.”

Someone asked Aaron a question, but Alice couldn’t make out the words. His response was clear though.

“No. That is true. We’ve been on extra long routes lately because we’ve been catching very little. We’re only returning to our old routes for as long as the stores last. So don’t worry, I won’t be working them like dogs yet.”

There was some more laughter.

Aaron stopped and his firm voice was replaced by the distant echoed thrum of Father Klein’s.

“Don’t forget to be thankful. It is not every day tha
t
. .
.
”

“What’s the ration?” Molly asked those around her.

“I think it’s supposed to be a pound, measured out by Staunten,” the hunter carrying Julian said.

Molly looked at him suspiciously. “Did you hear it from Baker, or are you just guessing.”

“That’s what Citizen Mayse said before they started.”

“Did anyone hear?”

The villagers on the church steps didn’t know.

They had to wait for the service to end before they got their answer. A quarter pound of spider guts and a half pound of spider eggs, picked up from Father Klein at the church each morning.

“That’s a good thing,” Molly said. “Klein will give you two servings and never know it. Staunten would probably write your name down.”

Alice was surprised to see Arturus come out of the church with the last of the villagers and
the first group of citizens. He was talking with Michael Baker. Michael was laughing.

Arturus looked at her and smiled.

That little twerp. I don’t know how he does it.

“Oh, yeah. Like Turi needed to hear,” Molly said. “He doesn’t even live here. This shit is so unfair.”

If Turi thinks I’m going to fall all over him because he’s found a way to get Michael Baker’s ear, he’s in for some disappointment.

Arturus awoke to Ellen’s voice. He could hear her footsteps on the gravel.

“Turi,” she sounded frantic.

Not again.

“I’m awake,” he said.

“Turi, I really need you this time.”

He grabbed his gun belt, checked to make sure the boots he
’d slept in were tied, and hurried out across the gravel hallway.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

He hadn’t seen Ellen looking so upset since the first day he met her. She glanced frequently over her shoulder. Not as if someone was chasing her, but as if she had left something behind.

“Someone’s dying. I helped him out of the river. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

Arturus ran back into his room. He checked his pack to make sure that he had his bandages. He found the woodstone board which had Ellen’s name on it and tossed it by the entrance so that Galen or Rick would see it.

“Ready,” he told her.

Ellen led him, running at times, along the river.

There was a smear of blood and water at the entrance of her room.

“He was right here,” she said.

Arturus could tell that the wounded person had dragged themselves away from the riverbank and into Ellen’s room.

Smart. And if they were strong enough to do that, they probably aren’t going to die.

Arturus and Ellen followed the trail of blood and water. Ellen stayed just slightly behind him but was close enough to peer over his shoulder.

He entered the room and took stock of the figure. He immediately put out a hand to keep Ellen back.

The man who lay before him was unfamiliar. He had scratches along his armored vest, as if it had been clawed by dyitzu. A bullet had struck him on his unarmored shoulder, apparently of small caliber. It looked like the bullet was still in him. His right leg was a bloody mess, sporting two different sets of lacerations. Arturus figured those were probably hound bites. But for all his wounds, the man was well groomed. His face was clean shaven and his hair was
short and neatly cut. Even his fingernails were trimmed. He was well armed, too, with an M-16 rifle slung at his side and a pistol holstered at his hip. Arturus approached the wounded stranger carefully, making sure that the man’s eyes were closed and that his breathing was regular. He reached out and touched the stranger’s right hand, checking the palm.

Scarring. Hard to do in Hell, Arturus knew. One had to treat a wound with rustrock to keep it from healing properly. The scar that had been cut into his palm was a symbol, a triangle within a trapezoid
which had two lines running through it.

Arturus drew his gun. The end of it was shaking. He tried to keep control of it and his breathing while he reached for the man’s rifle. As carefully as he could, he removed the straps from the gun and pulled it aside. Then he stole the man’s sidearm out of his holster.