The Vagrant (28 page)

‘Hey, wait up!’ shouts Genner, closing the last twenty feet. ‘Are you alright? Things got a bit crazy back there.’ He doesn’t allow a reply, his mouth too keen to wait. ‘You’ve got to be more careful, Scout, if they’d realized who you were things could have got even worse! Where you going, anyhow?’

Harm answers, ‘Just for a walk, Vesper might have made a new friend.’

‘I saw,’ says Genner, unwilling to look away from the Vagrant. ‘Best not to go that way.’

‘Why?’

‘This way’s faster.’

The guard tries to lead them away but Harm stops him. ‘Why is it really? It’s a crime to lie to a Seraph Knight, you know.’

Guilt flashes on Genner’s face, red and genuine. ‘I’m sorry, I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone but it’s hard.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘That kid isn’t the sort of friend you want Vesper to make and if you go there, it’ll cause trouble and I thought you wanted to avoid trouble.’

‘We do,’ agrees Harm, ‘it just doesn’t want to avoid us.’

The Vagrant nods.

At Genner’s insistence, they change direction, leaving trouble behind.

The goat stands on a roof, grazing. It is unclear how she arrived there. Honking sounds nearby and half-breed birds soon follow. Two full grown and a half dozen still growing, made unique by mutation. One is marked by a stunted wing, one by an over-muscled thigh, another by a second beak that sprouts beneath the first, forming words in an unknown language.

The half-breed family stop and call up to the goat. She ignores them and they get louder, angrier. One of the adults flaps hard, lifting a bulbous body into the air while the others cheer support.

Tilting her head, the goat fixes her enemy with a hard stare. The bird hauls itself level with the roof and shouts a challenge.

White fire answers. The first shot is precise, punching a neat hole through its chest. The second blast is wider, like a river that sweeps over the tainted birds on the ground.

Abruptly, the honking stops.

Axler steps out from his hiding place and kicks the corpses into a pile. He turns his lance on them, pouring and pouring, making ash to scatter on the sea breeze.

The goat remains on the roof, grazing.

Yuren sits opposite Harm and the Vagrant, a thin tube runs from the corner of his mouth to a small bag at his side. Behind him, Vesper runs the length of the room, chuckling each time she collides with a wall.

‘How are you settling in?’

Harm smiles, patting his belly. ‘We’re very grateful for your hospitality.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Of course now we’re at sea we’re all going to have to ration more carefully.’

‘It’s still a lot more than we’re used to.’

‘For you perhaps. I’m expecting no end of complaints from our regular citizens once the initial fear has passed. Would you like something to drink?’

‘No.’

The Vagrant shakes his head.

‘Straight to business then. We’ve crammed most of the population of Six Circles onto this glorified float.’

‘Most,’ echoes Harm in a whisper.

The Vagrant looks down.

‘I regret the loss of our refugees too, but we didn’t have room for them. As it is we struggled to provide sanctuary for the soldiers fleeing the wall. We don’t know the state of things out here so I’ve assumed the worst. Even if the island settlements have gone we have enough to survive the trip, just.’

‘Who are you trying to convince?’

Yuren draws on the tube, turning grey plastic pink. He swallows. ‘Me. I suppose you want it straight?’

The Vagrant nods. Yuren sighs.

‘As I said, we have enough food and if the fish we’re catching test clean that will help. The problem is locomotion. Our ships are old and not made for this kind of work. As the journey continues, more will break down beyond our ability to salvage, putting increased strain on the remaining engines. And of course, each engine we lose will slow us down. When that happens we’ll struggle to keep going and make any headway against the currents.’

‘What do you want us to do?’

‘There’s not much you can do, unless you’re engineers or have a stash of machine parts squirrelled away.’ The old man pauses for another drink. ‘Anyway, I didn’t ask you here to employ your services, I wanted to offer mine.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve raised children myself and I know it’s not easy. Vesper here is at a critical age. She’s absorbing new information at an incredible rate and what she learns now will form the fundamentals of her thinking for years to come.’

Hearing her name, Vesper stops.

‘You’re offering us a tutor?’

‘Better than that, I’m offering her an implant.’

The Vagrant frowns.

‘Is it safe to put it in this late?’ asks Harm, drawing closer.

‘Oh yes, it’s a simple procedure and we have the expertise on board.’ He takes out a transparent plastic wallet. Inside is a square of silver the size of a baby’s fingernail. ‘My last partner was young. We’d planned to have more children and …’ Harm’s eyes spark tears, preempting the old man’s. He looks away quickly. ‘… and I don’t need it any more. I’d like very much to see it used. It’s of the finest quality and will assist with language acquisition, memory and calculations. The encyclopedia is excellent and it’s fully aspected.’

Vesper’s attention wanders. She chuckles at something unknowable and runs off, pumping legs and arms. ‘OoooooOOOOOOM!’

Yuren twists in his chair to watch the diminutive racer, his smile is joyful, wistful. He twists back. ‘It’s yours if you want it.’

Harm checks his enthusiasm against the Vagrant’s concern. ‘Can we talk about it?’

‘Of course.’ Yuren gets up. Walls slide to get out of his way, revealing a corridor.

Vesper’s eyes light up and she runs for freedom. The walls seal long before she gets there.

‘So, what do you think?’

The Vagrant gets up and gathers Vesper into his arms.

‘I know you’re worried but I think it’s a brilliant idea.’ Harm smiles at the Vagrant’s surprised expression. ‘It was normal practice in the big cities, for those who could afford it. And it’s standard on the northern continent. It would give Vesper a massive advantage. Think about it, she’ll be speaking earlier, learning faster. It opens up lots of opportunities. Untainted children are scarce in the south but in the north Vesper will be one of many. We need to think about her future.’

Vesper wriggles in the Vagrant’s arms, legs keen to work. Reluctantly, the Vagrant puts her down.

Big waves toss the boat back and forth, like bullies with another’s ball. The commander stands at the prow, hands locked to the sides. The storm’s fury does not intimidate. His concerns lie within.

He looks at Samael, once a man, now a puppet, working against the weather without complaint. The commander has infused the fisherman with a fragment of his own essence, bending the mortal to his will. The Uncivil shared the secret with him during their communion but she uses constructed hosts, filling empty shells with life, where he has taken another’s essence and corrupted it to make his own creature.

The commander has broken minds before, implanting a simple command, making automatons fit for a single purpose but this is different. Samael is independent, capable of thought, obeying orders creatively and still able to access years of experience at sea.

In Samael he sees himself. For do not these things apply to him? Is he not also a puppet made from a spark of infernal essence?

The commander’s purpose comes from the master and though he still believes in the importance of his mission, he begins to question the authority behind it.

The Malice must be destroyed, that is not in doubt. Its existence means his end. The fact sits in his consciousness without context. He needs know no more.

Other things trouble him.

When the Malice is destroyed and his purpose met, what then? Will his time be over? Will new orders come from the master? Will he be released? And if he is, what will he do with his freedom? What is he without the master to define him?

He casts about within himself for clues of his other parent, his shell’s previous inhabitant, but finds nothing. Whatever there was has been absorbed or overwritten by the master’s fire.

Only his fingers move, digging deeper into the ship’s rim, impressing their shape permanently. On the outside, the commander is still, calm.

On First Circle time is easy to measure, the suns dance reliably from horizon to horizon, checking off each day. Distance is more difficult to measure. The Southern Sea stretches in all directions, aping infinity, sapping hope.

People struggle to stay upbeat, the goat is more pragmatic. She is up early, enthusiastic, following Axler on his morning rounds. The guards have adopted her as a mascot, slipping her bits of this and that as she passes by, hoping to win their captain’s approval. The softer ones give sweet treats, the bored ones experiment with less edible matter. The goat takes it all, rejecting nothing. Increasingly, her belly defines itself beyond the boundaries of her shoulders.

Private Ro, newly demoted, still angry, offers the goat a piece of rubber. The goat sniffs, then moves in, nipping a finger for good measure.

‘Ow!’

‘Something wrong, Private?’

Ro shakes her hand behind her back. ‘No, Captain.’

‘Then keep your noises to yourself.’ Other guards snigger. The goat chews experimentally then spits the rubber onto the floor. ‘And Private?’

‘Yes, Captain?’

‘Pick that up will you?’

She complies, ignoring the silent laughter of her peers. While crouched, woman and goat exchange hateful stares.

Axler and the goat move on.

Always, they finish at the rear of the ship, where Axler and Roget discuss the state of things and the goat watches bleak waves. Beneath them, crews tend to their aching ships, startled by each new groan or stutter. Like mothers with sick babies, they rest little.

‘Good morning, Captain Axler.’

‘Is it?’

Roget brings his index fingers together, touches them to his top lip. ‘Something wrong?’

‘The usual troubles. I’m surrounded by idiots.’

‘Ah.’

‘Are you the one behind these bloody masks everyone’s buying?’

‘Is there a problem?’

‘Apart from the fact they don’t bloody work!’

‘That depends on how you define their effect.’

Axler steps round to look the taller man in the eye. ‘Don’t get all philosophical on me. They don’t stop taint, so they don’t work.’

Roget leans back a little from Axler’s scowl. ‘Their effectiveness against the taint is yet to be seen. Their effectiveness against panic however is clear to observe. At least this allows people to do something, to feel like they have a little control.’

‘It’s immoral. They’re using people’s fear to turn a profit.’

‘It’s hard to put a price on morale.’

The goat snorts and Axler shakes his head. ‘I’m more interested in practical things. Like maintaining our defences. I’ve been trying to get hold of some Silicate4 but it’s already been allocated. Do you think you could find me some?’

‘Of course,’ Roget says. ‘I only wish you’d approached me sooner.’

The Vagrant paces, four strides to each length of the room. Harm sits, nerves showing in restless fingers.

Wall becomes door and a young man appears, teeth and shirt white, crisp. ‘She’s ready for you now.’

Harm jumps up but the Vagrant is already through the door. They follow the nurse into another room. Machinery folds away as they approach, shy, giving hints to what may have happened. On a black chair, Vesper dozes, straps receding from her ankles and wrists.

The Vagrant rushes to her side, hands moving to the space where hair used to be, wanting to touch, unsure.

‘The implantation procedure was a complete success,’ says the nurse. ‘The incision has been covered with Skyn and there should be no scarring, even under the hairline.’

‘Thank you,’ says Harm.

‘The drugs will be wearing off shortly. There may be some mild disorientation but nothing to worry about. I’ll be back to check on you all in thirty minutes. If you need me, just touch the wall here to open a channel.’

The nurse leaves and the two men study Vesper, attending to every toe twitch, eyelid flutter and sigh.

Eventually, Vesper yawns, wide and epic. She rubs her eyes and looks around vacantly.

Harm and the Vagrant smile hopefully at her.

Seconds pass, tense, and then Vesper’s eyes focus. She sees the two men and grins broadly. In unison, they sigh. Vesper giggles.

‘Well, she seems normal.’

The Vagrant leans over Vesper, checking each part of her methodically.

‘They only worked on her head you know.’ Harm’s comment does nothing to stop the examination.

Surprise takes Vesper’s face, then even that fades, muscles slacking off as attention goes inward.

Harm and the Vagrant exchange a worried look. ‘I’m going to call the nurse,’ says Harm, rushing to the wall panel.

Vesper begins to frown, her lips twitch. The Vagrant strokes her cheek.

‘Dada?’

Surprise finds the Vagrant. Moist eyes follow, then, after a long pause, a nod.

‘Dada!’

‘Was that Vesper? Did she just …’ In an instant Harm is back by the chair.

The Vagrant nods again, as if to himself.

Vesper attends to Harm, once more her face goes blank, faraway.

Behind them, walls shift, allowing the nurse’s return. ‘Is everything alright in here?’

‘Yes I think so. Vesper just said her first word. Is that normal?’

The nurse’s voice is calm, soothing. ‘Perfectly. It means she’s interacting with the implant.’

‘And now, should she look like that?’

‘Yes. It just means she’s listening to the implant, as time goes on and she acclimatizes, the communication will get faster. What word did she say?’

Harm glances at the Vagrant. ‘Dada.’

‘That makes sense. When Vesper saw her father the implant supplied the correct label, repeating for reinforcement. It’s an excellent sign that she was able to convert the stimulus into speech so quickly. As her speech develops the implant will use more complex sound clusters. So “Dada” will become “Daddy” or be replaced by “Father”.’