The Vagrant (24 page)

An inhuman wail comes from the house and the spectators flinch and tense. More noises follow: things breaking, metal singing, more wailing, more breaking, a young voice shouting and another crunch.

Then silence.

Nervously, the villagers wait. A couple begin to eye the abandoned packs.

With a bang, the door to the house opens. A squire steps out into the light, grinning. Behind him, the other squire is dragging a corpse. Both men are covered in blood, which in turn is covered in dust.

The villagers cheer and rush forward. When they see the dead infernal they cheer again.

‘Thank you, Sir Vesper,’ says the man that met them.

‘No thanks necessary, though we’d not turn down a bath and someone to clean our clothes.’

The man goes down on one knee, many of the other villagers follow his lead.

Vesper and the squire exchange a look. ‘What? What are you doing?’

‘On behalf of everyone here, I invoke the rite of mercy: Save us, protect us, deliver us.’

‘No, hold on. We’ve just done that. You’re safe now.’

The squire smiles, holding up the dead infernal for emphasis.

‘From this one, yes. But there are more. Too many for us to handle.’

‘I see.’ He looks at all of the faces, full of desperation, full of hope, and he falters. The squire notices, nudges him in the ribs. ‘The problem is … we have … other duties.’

‘But we have invoked the rite? There are more like this one out there. They will come for revenge. Won’t you at least finish what you’ve started?’

The question hangs in the air, unanswered. A girl in the crowd has drawn the attention of the two squires. Unlike the others, she does not favour them with a smile. Her face is known to them, familiar, and the years have only added to her charms. Her name is Reela, older sister to a ghost. Now she is walking away from them, back towards the village. Toes twitch within boots, anxious to follow.

‘Sir Vesper,’ repeats the man. ‘What do you say?’

Reela glances back, her eyes guarded, ambiguous. It is enough for the young men.

‘Alright,’ says Vesper. ‘We’ll stay for a couple of days.’

The raft floats on and cliffs bow lower, giving views of hills and worn fields. Compared to the Blasted Lands the landscape appears idyllic, the fancy of a naïve artist. With relief, they abandon the raft and climb up towards it. The goat leads the way, surefooted, quick. Branches thick with leaves wave, inviting them in. Birds sing without fear.

A road divides the greenery, running unbroken from the wall pulsing in the south to the tip of the Northern Peninsula. Power still flows through it, lifting train carriages three feet into the air and hurling them along its length. Each one is a spinning hexagonal ball, brassy and windowless. Mag-locks keep them together, enforcing formation.

Vesper waves compulsively. It is impossible to see if those inside reciprocate.

They walk alongside the road, past miles of automated farms. Harvesters lurch on rusting legs, bladed arms sweeping, levelling. At their shoulders, tubes gurgle merrily, sprinkling water in their wake.

Between the farms towers rise, slender, hoisting turrets on their shoulders. The Vagrant tenses but they ignore him, vigilance reserved for intruders in the sky.

At midday the group pauses. The goat grazes with manic energy while Vesper tries to lift her body onto her elbows. Aside from the odd train or the distant lumberings of an auto-farmer, they see no one.

Ahead, the sea dominates, waves smashing against the Northern Peninsula, battering, sharpening. With each step, it grows, a wobbling stain of green eating the horizon.

As the suns set they get their first glimpse of Six Circles, a giant port city supported by floating discs. Each is two miles in diameter and joined by flexi-bridges around a central hub. Lights crown its buildings, some steady, others winking slowly.

A plasteel drawbridge links Six Circles to the land, bowing quickly for the passing trains. When the Vagrant arrives at the cliff’s edge it remains aloof.

‘What now?’ asks Harm.

‘Otoww!’ says Vesper.

The Vagrant looks back down the darkening road. It is quiet.

‘We could try and signal the operators on the other side somehow. What about using your sword?’

The Vagrant’s hand goes to the feathered hilt, waits there.

‘I’m not sure either. I’ve not heard anything about Six Circles since the war. A Seraph Knight would get their attention for sure but we don’t know how they’d react. We could chance the bridge when the next train comes or we could follow the cliffs until we find a bay. There might be local boats that could ferry us over.’

Harm’s last idea is chosen and they begin to search. Six Circles nestles on the eastern side of the peninsula, tucked within its jagged hook, like the dot of a question mark snuggling upwards for comfort. Along the inside of the hook they find an array of fishing boats, trailing full nets. Many fish are thrown back, their malformed bodies easier to catch than to digest.

A vessel spots them and drifts closer, curious. Like many of its sister ships, it had a life before the sea. Wings are twisted into fins, engines remade. What once soared now bobs on gentle tides.

‘Hello?’ says Harm.

A man stands up in the cockpit. A thin jacket sits snugly over his wet suit as close as the beard on his chin. ‘Hello there.’

‘We’re looking to get across to Six Circles, can you help us?’

‘Depends. You got something to trade?’

‘Yes.’

‘How many of you are there?’

‘Just the three of us and a goat.’

The man looks thoughtful. ‘The little feller can come free and your goat’s half price so long as there are no accidents. Sound fair to you?’

‘More than fair. Thank you.’ Harm walks towards the water’s edge and the others follow. ‘We’re looking to cross the sea, can you drop us at the docks?’

The man steers the boat closer to the shore. ‘You got identification?’

Harm and the Vagrant exchange a look. ‘No, I’m sorry, we don’t.’

‘Then it’ll have to be Third Circle. There’s no ships there but it’s the only place they’ll allow unauthorized folk like yourself.’

‘Where are the ships?’

‘Good question. We’re seeing less and less of ’em these days. There’s been so many no-shows the schedule’s not even worth switching on.’ In his hand is a white canister, he sprays his hands and face liberally, giving them an oily sheen. ‘Can’t be too careful. No offence but I don’t know where you’ve been. My name’s Deke by the way, and I’ll be wanting to hear yours before I let you on board.’

‘I’m Harm, and this is Vesper and,’ he glances at the Vagrant, pauses.

‘Harm! What kind of a name is that?’

Green eyes look to the water. ‘It fits well enough.’

‘I’m guessing you weren’t born with it. Picked it up beyond the wall did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it’s none of my business but if I was you I’d think of changing it. A person’s name is a powerful thing.’

Harm nods.

‘And what about this other feller, the quiet one?’

‘Best not to ask.’

‘Well if you ain’t the weirdest bunch I ever saw, then call me scav bait! Your friend is welcome to his mystery but I got to call him something, so if you won’t give me a name, I’ll give him one. What’s it to be, Harm?’

‘You go ahead.’

Deke settles into the cockpit, chattering while the others clamber onto the wings. ‘I think I’m gonna go with Scout. After m’dog.’

The Vagrant shakes his head as laughter bursts from Harm. Vesper soon follows his lead. Even the goat enjoys a quiet snigger.

‘Your … dog?’

‘Yeah. Good little sea dog he was, a coastal blue, pure breed an all. Quiet too, which is a damn good thing when you’re stuck on a boat together. Besides, I talked enough for both of us!’

‘What happened to him?’

‘Old age. Had a good run, though. I thought about getting another one but couldn’t bring myself to it back then. And nowadays an untainted dog is hard to find.’

Third Circle looms large in front of them, its plasteel base rising high above the waves. A loading ramp lolls into the water, like a fat metal tongue. Several guards idle at the quayside, feet dangling, transparent masks sticking to their faces, sifting filth from the air.

The boat slips alongside the ramp, undersea anchors clunk together, binding them.

‘I think we’re going to make it accident-free,’ says Harm. The goat ignores him. ‘How much do we owe you?’

Deke twists around in the cockpit. ‘When I was young, maybe a handful of years older than little Vesper here, I wanted to be a Seraph Knight. Things never turned out that way but it’s nice to think that even at my age, I might still be able to help one. Hell, I’d have done it just for the conversation. Interesting company’s worth more than diamond dust these days, wouldn’t you agree, Scout?’

The Vagrant inclines his head.

‘Thank you,’ says Harm.

‘Course not everyone is as nostalgic about the knights as I am, so you might want to try and hide that sword a little better in the future.’ He winks. ‘To get out of Third Circle, you’ll need to pass an inspection. And to do that you’ll need an appointment.’

The Vagrant sighs.

‘Yep,’ Deke continues. ‘Civilization’s a bitch! Guess you don’t have to deal with much of that where you’ve been. Your best bet’s to go to the Hub Gate and ask for Genner. He’s my nephew and he’s a good sort, if a little keen. I raised him on stories of “The Revolution and the Reply”, so he’ll be made up to meet Scout.’

Goodbyes are made, brief, friendly, and the group walk up the ramp into Third Circle.

Guards stir from disorderly slouches, stand, and march over. Stern uniforms and half hidden faces fail to conceal young nerves. They block the top of the ramp, puffing chests, straightening backs.

Harm and the Vagrant suppress smiles.

‘Halt!’ says the leader. The mask distorts her voice, adding menace. ‘All immigrants must agree to our rules before being permitted entry to Six Circles.’

‘We’re looking for Genner,’ says Harm politely. ‘Is he here?’

‘We’re asking the questions!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Harm says. ‘We’re happy to abide by your rules. Honestly, we’re not looking for trouble.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. The Council of Three in its benevolence has given all of Third Circle over to refugees from the south. Within its boundaries you may trade and travel as you wish. Transmission of yourselves or your possessions across any of our bridges is forbidden and punishable by expulsion. Sustenance packages are available at the Hub Gate every other day. Any questions?’

‘Only my previous one.’

Hands press against the inside of the Vagrant’s coat, searching for exit. The guards recoil at the sight, raising rifles. Their leader speaks rapidly, causing a pink square to light up beneath the skin on her neck. ‘Infernal in Third Circle. I repeat: we have an infernal in Third Circle. Request immediate support.’

‘Wait!’ says Harm. ‘It’s not what you think.’

‘Don’t move!’

Vesper does not understand the words. Courage protected by ignorance, she continues to wriggle. Four rifles charge up, ready to fire and the Vagrant starts to turn away.

‘I said don’t move! One more step, hand wave … anything, and I’ll order you shot, I swear I will!’

A second guard clears his throat. ‘They’re asking for confirmation.’

‘So give it to them!’

‘But they said visual confirmation and we haven’t seen it yet.’

Harm keeps his hands high, visible. ‘You’ve never seen an infernal before have you?’ There is an awkward silence. ‘Trust me, this isn’t what you think.’

Vesper agrees, poking her head into the daylight.

Four rifles point hastily to the floor. Humbly, the leader of the guards murmurs and once again her throat lights up, reddening. She concludes her report before peering at Vesper. ‘That baby, was it born in the south?’

The Vagrant’s eyes narrow as he nods.

‘Is it tainted?’

The Vagrant shakes his head.

‘Are you?’ She blanches under the Vagrant’s glare. ‘I’m sorry to ask, it’s just that you could apply to live outside the quarantine zone. Your baby would be able to get checked today and you’d be prioritized for relocation.’

‘We’ll keep it in mind,’ says Harm. ‘Now, about my earlier question? Genner?’

‘Oh right. He’s on the Hub Gate. Do you have active navware?’

‘We don’t.’

She nods, unsurprised and extends a hand, palm up. They watch as a miniature map of Six Circles appears, hovering between them. ‘We’re here,’ she says, and a dot near the map’s edge bounces for attention. ‘The Hub Gate is over here on the other side. It’ll take you about an hour to walk there.’

‘Thank you,’ says Harm.

‘That’s alright. And we’re sorry about before. You … you won’t say anything to Genner, about our misunderstanding?’

‘What misunderstanding?’

‘That’s great!’

They leave the guards behind, wandering through narrow streets. Flats stack on either side, white walls smoothing into the floor, seamless. People hang from windows, calling to each other, too lazy to leave their homes. Evidence of the taint is everywhere, tinting skin, scaling ears and accelerating growth. Children play uncertainly, struggling with adult limbs, confused by adult urges. Baby cries are constant, making Vesper sit up. She looks for signs of her contemporaries but cannot find a single one.

Harm gasps. ‘Look how fat they all are!’

The denizens of Third Circle share features. Clothes are plentiful if not clean and silver studs mark the most mutated, implanted by the right temple. Older faces retreat as the group approaches, tucking shame and fear behind closed doors. The young however, are magnetized, boredom drawing them, numerous. Their curious questions are waved away, attempts at conversation evaded and the Vagrant’s stride grows longer.

On every wall, tributes to the Winged Eye are made to weep. Persistent attacks have chipped the once-proud statues, perfect curves made ragged, painted over with faeces. The Vagrant pulls his coat tighter.

Guards await them at the Hub Gate, the first to appear since their arrival. These guards camp behind a wall of semi-transparent light and behind them a tunnel stretches, multi-segmented, swaying all the way to the central platform.