A World of Ash: The Territory 3 (13 page)

“The same cell, Your Holiness?”

“No, no,” the High Priestess said. “One of the top-floor guest rooms. The ones we use for visiting priestesses, and organize a fine dinner for us together. The Administrator has done his time in the dark. He can stay in more suitable accommodation now.”

Provost stared for a moment, blinking as he processed the instructions, as if he couldn’t tell whether the High Priestess was joking or not. The Administrator didn’t know whether she was joking either. Was this some new form of torture? Would she let him stay in the best rooms she could offer, feed him the best food, and then tear it all away and toss him back underground? Eventually Provost nodded, turned a snappy about-face and walked from the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

“What is this?” the Administrator asked. “Do you plan on treating me well? Buttering me up so that I’ll share information with you?”

Patricia shook her head. “Nothing of the sort, Your Honor. Our time at each other’s throats is over now. There is nothing you, or this group calling themselves the Free – oh yes, Harold, I know all about them – can do to halt God’s plan. The city is sealed. The ghouls are coming. It is over.”

“So what are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing,” the High Priestess said, smiling, and the Administrator was almost surprised not to see a forked tongue flick out from behind her lips. “You seem to be having trouble understanding me. There is nothing I need to do to you anymore. I have won. We will dine together and you will live in the style to which you were once accustomed.”

“And that’s it?” the Administrator said, not wanting to drop his guard, not wanting to believe this demon woman could so easily forget all that had happened and just let him live out his days in relative luxury.

“There is only one thing.”

Here it is then
, the Administrator thought.
What has she truly got in store for me?

“The horde of ghouls will soon be here. When they reach the city I intend to watch from atop the Wall as they purge the wicked and impure from the Territory, and when that happens, Administrator, you will be there beside me, watching the purification of your people.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that town is Hale,” Captain Pratt said, examining the creased and dog-eared map laid out on his lap and looking ahead at the buildings clustered together on the ground some distance ahead of them, “the last town before Alice.”

Brick looked out at the red dust rising from the town and knew what that meant. He’d seen it enough times now. They’d caught up to the horde. Once again he would have to see the jerking, twitching bodies of the monsters who’d killed his father, the monsters his father was probably walking among right now. Maybe it would be this time he flew above them and saw his father’s face flick up to stare at him.

“That’s the ghouls,” Brick said.

Captain Pratt nodded. “Just another town the Diggers have let them walk through then.”

“There are no Diggers anymore.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Captain Pratt said. “Where are they when the Territory needs them?”

“I don’t think they want to be dead,” Brick said.

“Maybe not, but they never could do anything right.”

Captain Pratt had complained about the Diggers numerous times since they’d started flying together, although Brick didn’t want to think of them as flying
together
.
He needed to remember that Captain Pratt had hijacked Mr. West’s dirigible, shot him and dropped him over the side. Brick knew Captain Pratt hated the Diggers – as with the girl Lynette, he blamed them for something. Brick just didn’t know what.

“What did they do to you?” Brick said. “You hate them so much. It’s not their fault there are so many ghouls.”

Captain Pratt paused. “It’s not what they did, Brick,” he eventually said. “It’s what they didn’t do.”

Brick didn’t say anything. He thought he was just going to get another short, vague response from Captain Pratt, which was the way the pirate seemed to answer every question, but then Pratt continued.

“My life was different once. I lived in Alice.”

“Alice?” Brick asked. “You’re from the city?”

Captain Pratt nodded. His mind was elsewhere, someplace miles away, or perhaps years ago. “I was born there,” he eventually said. “Inside the Wall.”

Brick had thought he’d never meet someone from inside Alice. He didn’t know much about the Inside, or the people who lived there, only the rumors he’d heard from fellow kids or information gleaned from eavesdropping on adult conversations. Everyone from the Inside was rich and always clean and never hungry and safe from all the dangers they faced on the Outside, including the ghouls. He’d heard they never wanted for anything and hardly had to work and they never left the city. Why would you leave if it was so great there?

“You’re wondering how an Insider became a pirate, aren’t you?” Captain Pratt said.

Brick hadn’t been wondering that but he supposed he was now.

“Well, if you’re an Insider, why did you ever need to steal?”

“I never needed money,” Captain Pratt said. “I needed adventure. I left the city, went out into the Territory looking for, I don’t know, something, anything. What I found was Mary.”

“Mary,” Brick said. “Like the
Mary’s Revenge.”

Captain Pratt nodded. “Yes,” he said, “just like that.”

There was a long pause when Brick didn’t know whether he should say something or not, but just at that moment Captain Pratt didn’t seem like a vicious, bloodthirsty pirate. He seemed very sad.

“Who was she?”

Captain Pratt sighed. “She was my wife, a Sister who left the Church so that we could marry. We lived in a little town called Barrow Creek. Do you know where that is, Brick?”

Brick shook his head.

“It’s near the Rock. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s where the Diggers live.”

“Well, it’s their headquarters, yes. Barrow Creek was the nearest town to the Rock, only a handful of miles down the road. One night, after a fence breach somewhere along that godforsaken useless length of wire out there, Barrow Creek was attacked by ghouls. We lived in the nearest town to their headquarters and the Diggers didn’t come. They abandoned our town and my wife…became a ghoul.”

“I’m sorry,” Brick said.

Captain Pratt looked away, staring out somewhere across the vast desert of the Territory. “Just get us to Alice, Brick.”

And that was clearly the end of the conversation. Still, Brick couldn’t help but look at Captain Pratt differently. Did he feel sorry for him? He didn’t know. How could he feel sorry for the pirate who had shot Mr. West and made him clean the blood off the seat?

It wasn’t long until Brick was flying the dirigible over Hale. He looked down through the glass at his feet. Much like the other towns they’d flown over, this one was deserted. The residents had left and gone to Alice to escape the ghouls, leaving their wooden and tin buildings standing empty. The town wasn’t actually deserted, though. Not in the true sense of the word. There were ghouls, thousands and thousands of them, trudging on and on in their clockwork-toy motion through the streets. Brick simply thought of the town as deserted because after spending the last few weeks with Burley West working in shifts with the other boundary riders to track the horde and reporting their progress back to Alice, he had become so accustomed to seeing and hearing and even smelling the shambling, snarling, screeching monsters that he was almost able to ignore them. Almost.

Captain Pratt however, was leaning over the side of the dirigible, staring wide-eyed at the scene below them. “That,” he said, his voice stopping as it got jammed in his throat. Brick could hear him swallow. “That’s the horde?”

Brick nodded. “Yes,” he said, though he thought the sight of thousands and thousands of ghouls was more than enough proof of that.

The heads of the ghouls were snapping from side to side and flicking up and down as they moved, sniffing the air, trying to seek out any people who might have been unwise enough to stay behind. Every now and then, when one or more of the ghouls would flick their head to look up, they seemed to hold their gaze on the dirigible for a moment, and Brick wondered whether they really saw the vessel, whether they knew there was moisture inside and whether, if he dropped the ship low enough, they would all start trying to leap up and grab him like kittens teased with a piece of string.

“There’s so many of them,” Captain Pratt said. “I knew there would be a lot, but …”

The glass of the viewing floor, Brick noticed, was yellowed and coated inside and out with red dust that had been lazily wiped away around the center. He ran his finger along the glass and it came away coated in grime. This window really could do with a proper clean. His father had cleaned the glass floor of his dirigible prior to every flight. His father had looked after his dirigible in a way that old Burley West never had. Why, then, was it his father’s dirigible that had crashed and not Mr. West’s unkempt flying machine? His father hadn’t deserved what had happened to him. He’d been a good man. But then, old Mr. West hadn’t deserved what happened to him either. Maybe Captain Pratt was right, and the sooner Brick realized that no one in this world got what they deserved the better.

“They could destroy Alice.”

Brick looked up at Captain Pratt, only noticing now that the man was still talking.

“Old Mr. West thought so,” Brick said, “before you killed him.”

“I just never realized the scale of it,” Captain Pratt said, ignoring Brick’s comment.

“The boundary riders think the Wall of Alice will hold them,” Brick said, repeating what he’d heard, and what he hoped was true. He didn’t want to imagine a world where there were no people left, only wandering ghouls.

“According to the map it’s only seventy miles to Alice. The ghouls will be there soon.”

Brick nodded. “A week or two depending on whether they change direction again.”

“I wonder if they’re ready for what’s coming.”

“The boundary riders have been sending messages back to the city,” Brick said. “I hope they’re ready.”

The city wasn’t ready. Not now that High Priestess Patricia had to deal with this problem. She stood on aching legs and stared out from her vantage point in the high window of the cathedral. She had seen her legs that morning, and they were purple and swollen. She had no idea what was wrong with her, but she knew she didn’t have long.

The Wall stood proud and strong around the city. She was sure it would hold against the horde. It looked as magnificent as it must have when it was first built, long before people had desecrated it to build houses of filth and sin inside and outside this holy place. That was how it had always been. Through fire or flood or plague or ghoul, God cleansed the world, and then slowly, over time, the impurity and evil crept back in to take root in the hearts of men. Bit by bit, so slowly that most people didn’t even notice, that evil spread and became accepted. It became acceptable to disregard the sacred testaments of Glorious God the Redeemer. It became acceptable to deny his very existence. Then, when that had gone on too long, the faithful were given shelter while Glorious God burned the evil from the world once more. That was the cycle of life, and she would see it happen again before her life ended.

Like an ark of old, the city of Alice would be the refuge for the pure in God’s reclaiming of the world. The city would hold now as it had first held when it kept the Prophet Steven and his beloved wife Sarah, the First Priestess, safe from both the ghouls and the retribution of those who did not agree with God’s work. The Prophet Steven had ensured that man could not stand in the way of Glorious God the Redeemer’s plan for the cleansing of this world, and now, so many hundreds of years later, responsibility for the continuation of that legacy would fall on her shoulders. There were those who hated her now, but one day she would be remembered as the Prophet Steven was remembered. She would not let man stand in the way of this latest purge of the wicked and impure from the world.

And yet, as if God were testing her resolve, problem after problem arose to delay her preparations. Lynnette Hermannsburg had escaped from her cell. The girl who had left a trail of blasphemy and betrayal behind her everywhere she went had been allowed to go free and attempt once again to usurp the desires of God. Who did she think she was? Was she so naïve to think that she, a foolish child, could stand up to all that was happening here? She was nothing. She would be cleared away just as her friend Squid Blanchflower had been cleared away.

Lynnette Hermannsburg had not escaped without help, though. She had been set free, and High Priestess Patricia knew now that Clergy-General Provost had been responsible. Once among her most trusted allies, he had turned against her. The Administrator had told her everything, eventually. It had taken a lie on her behalf – she would be sure to pray for God’s forgiveness later – but it was all for the greater good. She’d told the Administrator that those who had brought him to her had also delivered his son Bren as something of an insurance policy, to be used however she deemed necessary. In truth Bren was as well hidden as the Administrator had been before he’d showed up so conveniently at her front door. She had never been specific about what might happen to Bren, but the Administrator had drawn his own conclusions and soon confirmed what she had suspected. Provost was working with the group of terrorists calling themselves the Free.

She had known her general was wavering, that his faith was being tested, but she had not foreseen such treachery. She could not help but feel a sting at the betrayal – worse than a sting, a deep, burning cut – made all the worse because she had not seen it coming. That was salt in the wound. He had betrayed her the way the one the Book of the Word called Pig had betrayed the Prophet Steven in the days before they had claimed Alice. But like in the story of Pig, Provost would pay for his treachery.

Not only had Clergy-General Provost authorized the release of Lynnette Hermannsburg, it seemed he himself had escorted her from her cell and out of the cathedral. Now that the Administrator had confirmed the truth, those guards who had been on the door when Clergy-General Provost had led Lynnette out of the building were already on their way to Pitt to consider where their allegiance should truly lie. The Administrator had said very little else, but he had confirmed that it was Soilwork who was leading those who gathered against her.

There was a steady knock on the door. Patricia did not turn from the window, both to avoid the pain of movement and for the effect of power it would show when he entered. The heavy door opened.

“You wished to see me, Your Holiness?” Provost said.

“Yes, Provost,” High Priestess Patricia said, not turning from the window. “Come here.”

The High Priestess didn’t move as Clergy-General Provost came to stand next to her, his long red cloak continuing to move gently as he came to a stop. She had to stop herself from snarling. How dare he still wear that cloak? It was a symbol of the Church, and he was now unworthy to rank among its servants.

“Tell me, Provost,” the High Priestess said, maintaining her motionless stance, “what do you see out there?”

“I, uh, I see the city, Your Holiness.”

His voice was steady but High Priestess Patricia sensed the tiniest, thinnest waver. He was nervous, though he was disguising it well.

“Yes,” she said. “The city. My city. Do you consider it my city, Provost?”

“Yes, Your Holiness, of course.”

“Good,” she said, “good. Though look closer, what else do you see?”

Clergy-General Provost turned to her and then turned back to the window. He did lean closer, gazing out at the streets. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he admitted finally.

“Rats,” the High Priestess said. “There are rats scurrying around down there, filthy disease-ridden impure pests that gather in my streets. Can you see any rats?”

“We are doing the best we can to eliminate all resistance to your cause,” Clergy-General Provost said.

“There,” the High Priestess said, pointing to the window. “There,” she said again, her voice deliberately breathy. “Don’t you see the rat now?”

High Priestess Patricia could tell the exact moment Clergy-General Provost realized where she was pointing. She could sense his body suddenly stiffen, and though he didn’t turn, his eyes darted to the side to evaluate her. She was pointing not out the window, but at his reflection.

“Rats,” she said once more.

“Your Holiness,” Clergy-General Provost said. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told, but I have always been loyal to you.”

High Priestess Patricia had already lowered the knife she had hidden up the sleeve of her white dress down into her fingers. She was careful to maneuver it into her grip, avoiding cutting her fingers on the immaculately sharpened blade.

“Until when?” she said. “When did your loyalty wane?”

Clergy-General Provost stared at her. “He would say anything to ensure his safety,” he said. “You know that, Your Holiness. I would not consider there to be any truth in the lies the Administrator spouts.”

“You know what gave it away?” the High Priestess said. “I would have let you speak your part, let you try to explain to me why you would release Lynnette Hermannsburg. I thought perhaps you had imagined you could use her as a sort of bait, or follow her and use her to track down this group calling themselves the Free. Yet you made a mistake. Do you know what it was?”

Clergy-General Provost let out a long breath. “No.”

“It was when you said you were eliminating resistance to
my
cause,” the High Priestess said. “You used to refer to it as
our
cause, or more importantly,
God’s
cause.”

Provost turned to look at her now. He had dropped any mask of deception he had been applying to his face and was clearly angry. “You left my men out there to die,” he said. “You left men of the Holy Order outside the Wall.”

“They did their duty, as we all do. That is no reason for you to commit treason.”

“That is not all,” Clergy-General Provost said. “You are going to get everyone
inside
the Wall killed too. You have no supplies, no food, no water, nothing to last out the siege that is inevitable when the ghouls surround the city. Your directive that all Territorians should move to Alice to seek refuge means there are no farmers or workers left to till the land or gather supplies, and no one to transport them to the city even if there were. You claim God will provide for us, but I have never seen God let even a drop of rain fall from this cursed sky. And your willingness to let everyone in the slums be turned into ghouls, even if you do believe it is God’s plan, will only double the size of the enemy’s force.”

“I am sorry you have lost your faith,” the High Priestess said. “It is upsetting to see one of such promise lose his way.”

Clergy-General Provost shook his head. “I don’t know how I never saw this before,” he said. “You’re insane. That’s it, isn’t it? Somewhere, sometime, as you began to lose your body, you lost your mind as well.”

The High Priestess gripped the handle of the knife tightly in her fingers. She had told herself that if he wavered, if he lost his way and challenged her again, she would not hesitate to cut his throat. She had moved as subtly and slowly as she could while they had been speaking so that her right arm, the one that gripped the knife with knuckles not only white from age, was positioned slightly behind him. She turned her body to face him now, keeping the knife behind him, out of his view.

“No, Provost,” she said, reaching up with the fingers of her left hand to touch his face. She really did feel upset about this. He had always been her favorite. She pressed the palm of her left hand to his cheek and looked at him with sad eyes. “I believe I am the only sane one in the world.” He even tilted his head slightly into her hand, as if wanting to feel her touch. He glanced down toward her other hand and she smiled at him sadly. She hadn’t wanted him to know this was coming. It would have been easier if he hadn’t. But he didn’t try to fight her. He could have easily overpowered her frail body, but he did nothing.

“God is not on your side in this,” he said.

And High Priestess Patricia moved as quickly as she could, bringing her right arm around behind his neck as if in an embrace. She pressed the sharp blade against his throat and in a motion as quick and smooth as she could, she ended his life.