The Bridge (18 page)

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Something like that.’

Lanya said, ‘We wanted to see the light come on, over the river. Have you seen it?’

One of the men, fortyish with a patchy gray beard, said, ‘Who’s lightin’ it, that’s what I’d like to know.’ He raised a flask in the direction of the Hill. ‘To the uprising! Long may it last. And let there be gold,’ he took the woman’s hand and kissed her rings, ‘for the victors.’

The door opened behind us and two men stumbled out, laughing and shouting. ‘Goran! Got any more? We need more, right now, this minute, this very, very minute.’ Graybeard let go of the woman’s hand, said, ‘One minute,’ to her, and moved quickly to the men.

So, this was Goran. I watched him shut the newcomers up. He was weedy, with a pale, lined face, thin, graying hair and beard, and long fingers. He made my skin crawl. He wrapped his arms around the men’s shoulders. ‘Boys, boys, boys. Warmer inside, yeah?’ He steered them back inside.

One of the others by the fire, a square, solid younger man, watched them go and grunted. The third one, older, with a pinched look and an ingrained scowl, said to us, ‘You been over there yet?’

‘Soon,’ I said. ‘Next week, maybe.’

He looked me up and down like I was a disappointment but what could you expect, youth these days and all that. ‘You’re not from here.’

‘Gilgate,’ I said.

He held up a hand, the stump of a hand with just a thumb and an index finger, gnarled and twisted like a tree
root. ‘See this? City blew it off. I sat in one of their stinking prisons for two years. Lost my fingers. Damn near lost my fuckin’ mind. You get the chance when you go over – you do the same to one of them, yeah? Anyone’ll do.’ He grabbed my wrist and stuck my hand out above the fire. ‘You hold them down. You take your gun.’ He pointed his stump, like he was taking aim. ‘You blast it off. Fingers, everything. Tell ’em you’re doing it for Sett Rorkin. Got that?’ I pulled away from him. He stuck his stump back in his pocket and grinned at the fire.

The woman said, ‘You pay no attention to old Sett here.’ She put a hand on my shoulder and breathed ‘shine in my face. ‘I’m sure you got plans, don’t you, love? Off to seek your fortune? Nice lad like you deserves a bit of fortune. What about your girl? Taking her with you?’ She patted my shoulder and peered back towards the coffeehouse where Goran had gone. ‘Time for you kids to be on your way back up the hill. Off you go. Fight a good fight, now, won’t you.’

The old guy, Sett, grabbed my arm as I turned to go and waved his stump in my face. ‘Remember! A hand for a hand.’

We pushed our way back through the crowd inside and came out onto the road. A breeze came fresh off the river and we breathed deep. ‘Horrible man,’ said Lanya. ‘Horrible people. Why would your friend know these people?’

‘Let’s get out of sight,’ I said.

We crossed the road to where a mangled dredge had been abandoned and settled in to wait for Goran to head for home. Lanya leaned on the riverwall and looked across at the city, dreaming, I guess, of future glory. I sat on the ground and watched the coffeehouse.

‘You might wait a long time,’ said Lanya. She sat down beside me. I thought about suggesting she go back up the hill, but I was fairly sure what she’d say to that. She hugged her knees and laid her head on her arms. Her braids fell across her long dancer’s neck. For all that she buzzed with energy, when she sat still, she sat still. She looked up at me with a smile, then fixed her eyes on the coffeehouse, watchful and intent, as if it might vanish at any moment.

I said, ‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘No. You didn’t answer mine.’

‘Sina fell in with some bad company, that’s all.’

She smiled sideways at me. ‘I’m sure that’s not all. But ask away.’

‘Who’s Kasimir?’

Her smile vanished. ‘Who’s been talking about Kasimir?’

‘Vega. Tonight at Levkova’s. Everyone went quiet.’

She nodded. ‘That’s his son. Married to Yuna – did you meet her?’

‘Yeah. What happened to him?’

‘Kas was arrested in a raid two years ago. Their little girl wasn’t long born and Yuna was sick. Kas was pulled off the street. They took him over the bridge and put him in the Marsh. Our people offered a suicide switch to get him back.’

‘A suicide what?’

‘Switch. Kasimir, in exchange for a city spy held over here.’

‘Why’s it called that?’

‘They don’t tell you anything in Gilgate, do they. We’re not supposed to call it that, but everyone does. A suicide switch is when they wire up the ones being exchanged with belts of explosives and each side carries the other’s trigger. So, with Kas, one of our men went over to verify that it really was Kas they were sending back, and he got to hold the trigger for the city spy being exchanged. The same for the city – they sent a triggerman here and he took the trigger for the explosives on Kas. So the triggermen go to the middle of the bridge and supervise the exchange.’

‘That is barbaric.’

‘It keeps everyone honest. You don’t end up with squads from both sides on the bridge and there’s no danger of snipers taking out one of the hostages because the other one would be blown sky high if that happened.’

‘What happened with Kas?’

‘They’re supposed to deactivate the triggers once
the prisoners have been exchanged in the middle of the bridge, but the city spy got to the exchange point, grabbed his own trigger and blew himself up. I don’t know why. Shame, perhaps. Or perhaps he knew what they’d do to him once he got back. Kas was caught in the blast. He didn’t die straight away. Yuna and the Commander got to say good-bye, at least.’

Insane. Brutal. War. What did I expect?

We watched some people leave the coffeehouse, calling to friends inside, cursing at how cold it was outside.

‘What about you?’ said Lanya. ‘Who’ve you lost?’

‘Parents.’ I said it without a second thought, without all the hesitations and reservations that came with that admission at school. Where’s your mother? Who’s your father? Why don’t they come, call, visit, take you away for the summer? But here, the assumptions all ran the other way.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You?’

‘No. No one. Still have parents. Still have brothers. Also grandparents, aunts, and cousins. The aunts are not pleased with me. A disgraced Pathmaker brings dishonor on a family, as they keep reminding me. But my parents believe me, that Coly was playing Remnant’s game.’ She glanced at me. ‘They don’t know about the fight. Do you have aunts or cousins?’

I shook my head. ‘Sina is as close to family as I get.’

We watched the coffee house for a while, and at last crowds of people started to spill out of it.

‘There!’ said Lanya. Goran and co. were leaving in a flurry of farewells. We fell in with the scattering of late-night folk and followed them east along the river road. They stopped at a crossroads where some cookshops were hoarded together and a crowd was waiting outside for kebabs and stuffed pocket-bread. The air was smoky from the frypans; the spice of it caught in my throat and made me hungry and sick together. But our quarry didn’t stop for food. They worked their way through the crowd, greeting people as they went, and Sett – Stumphand – lifted a bag from some poor dupe waiting for his fry-up. They headed into an alley running down beside the cookshops. Once they’d turned a corner, we went after them.

We were walking on gag-inducing sludge through a tunnel of shack walls stuck together, badly, in a jigsaw of corregated iron and wooden slats held in place by nails half banged in and bent at crazy angles. If I put my hands out I could touch both sides at once. Our only light came from cracks in the walls where lamplight bled through, and from the moonlit strip of sky above us.

We followed Goran’s group around a corner into another alley exactly the same. Then another. And another. As we made our way through a maze of twisting, narrow spaces we fell into a pattern of one of us going ahead and watching for where they turned next, then beckoning to
the other. They weren’t hard to follow – they were in high good humor, or maybe they were just high. They stopped at last beside a tall wire fence with a padlocked gate. Goran let them all in, glanced up and down the alley, then locked the gate and disappeared inside.

I started towards it, but Lanya grabbed my arm. ‘No, no, no. Wait! What are you doing?’

‘Taking a look.’

‘Listen to me! They’re dealers. And with a fence like that, they’ll be traffickers as well. There are people in there they don’t want to let out. If you try to get in, they will kill you. And you don’t even know if Sina is there.’

‘It’s all I’ve got. I’m just gonna look. I won’t go in.’

‘Ask Levkova for help.’

‘I’m just gonna look.’ I shrugged off her hand and walked up to the fence. Inside it I could see three shacks and a larger, more solid building behind them. A lantern hung from the porch of one of the shacks and lit the groundspace in front; it was scratched and scuffed where someone had tried to grow something, or bury something. A washing line draggled rags between a rainwater barrel and a latrine. No signs of life.

Around me the alley was dark and quiet.

I figured that Goran and his team would be snoring by now; they’d been drunk enough. If the fence could hold my weight, I could get in and take a look around. I hated the thought that Fyffe might be in there. Was probably in
there, since she’d followed this man, then disappeared. I couldn’t leave without looking.

The fence was tall. I could’ve reached the top of it at full stretch if my ribs had been working properly. I put a hand on the wire lattice, gripped it, shook it lightly. It felt solid enough. I gripped a fence pole, pushed a boot into the lattice, and hauled myself up. The fence creaked. I froze. Looked around. Couldn’t see anyone. Grasped the top of the fence pole. Pulled myself up another few feet. Nearly there.

A hand grabbed my ankle and someone hauled hard on my coat. I crashed onto the ground. Pain exploded in my ribs. A man dragged me upright and stuck his arm round my neck, just about lifting me off my feet. I gagged and tried to struggle but the pain had left me gasping.

A knife, sharp, cold and to the point, pressed my cheek. ‘Well,’ said a voice in my ear, ‘Look what we have here! What are you doin’, soldier boy?’

‘Nothing! Just looking.’

‘Nope. Don’t believe you.’ The knife pressed harder; I felt blood trickle down my face. ‘We don’t like to be spied on. It ain’t good for our peace of mind. You could lose an ear or an eye at this point.
With
this point.’

He laughed at his joke. ‘As a message to other snoopers. Hold still – or it’ll be both.’

Stupid. Stupid to think that traffickers would leave
themselves unguarded. I tried to see the knife, afraid of what it would do next. I was thinking, hoping, that maybe he’d take me inside. It would make it worth getting caught if I could find Fyffe. But he sounded as if he’d rather carve me up there in the alley.

‘Which is it to be?’ he said. ‘Ear?’ He flicked the knife point at my ear lobe. I tried to slow my breathing. Tried to think. The blood was pounding in my head. ‘Eye?’ He drew the point from the corner of my eye across my temple. I tried not to flinch in case he slipped. ‘Choose!’ he said.

Then he grunted, his legs went from under him and we collapsed on the ground. Lanya was shouting, ‘RUN!’ I scrambled up and raced after her down the alley.

We ran, stumbling through sludge, pushing ourselves off walls and round corners, glancing over our shoulders for the lookout or his mates. At last Lanya stopped, hands on knees. I leaned on a wall, breathing hard. She grinned up at me. ‘My boot, his knee. He won’t follow in a hurry.’

I blew out a breath. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I think it’s fair to say that you don’t owe me anything anymore.’

She stood up. ‘I told you.’

‘Not that they’d have a lookout.’

‘No. We should have guessed. What now? You look a mess, by the way.’

I touched my temple. Blood. I was starting to shake. The adrenaline was wearing off and my ribs felt seriously
bad. ‘I don’t know what now.’ I looked back the way we’d come. ‘I couldn’t find it again if I tried.’

‘I could.’ She held up a hand to shut me up. ‘On one condition.’

Her face blurred in front of me and my knees buckled. I crouched on the ground, thinking how useless I was at all this. ‘Only one?’ I said, and tried to smile at her. ‘Name it.’

‘You must ask Levkova for help.’

Pounding on the door jolted me upright
. I was sitting on my mattress, still in yesterday’s clothes. I grabbed a lantern and lit it with shaky fingers while Max struggled out of bed, swearing and shrugging on his coat. He took the light and went out into the living room, closing the door behind him. I opened it a crack and peered out.

‘Easy there!’ he called. ‘Take it easy! I’m coming.’ He opened the door to two young guys in battle gear. They gave him the half bow and one of them said, ‘Morning, sir!’

‘What in the name of all the known gods is going on!’ That was Levkova. More saluting.

‘Sub-commander Levkova?’ said one of them.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Rémy. It’s the middle of the night! And freezing. Come in and close the door. What’s happened?’

‘It’s 5.30am, ma’am. Wanted to give you a good start.’

‘A what?’

‘Time, madam.’ A new voice. Queasily familiar. ‘Time to pack.’ No-neck from the hearing pushed his way inside.

‘Councillor Terten,’ said Levkova. ‘How did I miss you there? What do you mean?’

‘Time to
pack
, I said. We need these rooms. For people on active service.’

Levkova frowned at him. ‘I see. I have some spare floor space for an extra –’

‘No, no, no.
Listen
, woman!’ No-neck waved a piece of paper at her. ‘Your eviction notice.’ He lumbered over to the table and slammed the paper down. Then he moved on around the room, ran a fat finger along the spines of books on the shelves, leafed through the book on Max’s armchair and sat down. ‘You are to be out by Wednesday.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Levkova looked steely and furious together.