Thunderer (16 page)

The front door was boarded up. Arjun found a broken window and pulled himself through into darkness. He struck the lantern’s flame. A dusty corridor ran around the circumference of the abandoned building, curving away in either direction.

Arjun checked his flintlock. It was loaded with a single shot. Shay might be dangerous, Holbach had said: either he was a fraud, in which case he might be a hardened criminal, or he could really do what he claimed, which might be worse.

Arjun set out clockwise. The corridor rose and spiraled inward, the turns getting sharper, until he took one last turn and he was under the dome. A shaft of moonlight came in through the dome’s aperture. The huge telescope was fallen at an angle, the gears and struts on one side rusted and rotted through. It was like a great golden beetle, legs smashed, body bent.

There was light coming from an open door. Arjun made his way around the wreckage and stepped through into the next room, which was dominated by a large brass orrery: an expensive arrangement the height of a man, of loops and whorls of burnished metal, describing complex and implicate arcs around a golden solar sphere.

Across the room, through the long shadows of the brass loops, Arjun could see a man sitting in a chair, reading a newspaper by candlelight. The man wore round glasses and a neat black suit, well-tailored, though the shoulders were dusted with dandruff. He had long, dirty white hair. He rose, and folded the paper. He was very short and thin.

“I am Mr. Shay.” He spoke with a cold dry rasp, with an unpleasant rise to his voice, as if daring Arjun to find him repellent. “Well. Are you here for business, or to vent your outrage?” He pointed to the paper. “The
Era
is terribly full of outrage. Apparently the soul-health of the city’s children requires that I be hanged forthwith. Or has some lord decided I am a nuisance, and sent you here to put a stop to me?”

“I don’t entirely know yet.”

“A good answer. An honest man.”

Arjun put his lantern down and took a step closer. Shay moved around so that the orrery was still between them. Its outer loops had broken and fallen to the floor. There were worlds underfoot. Shay asked Arjun’s name, and Arjun gave it to him.

Shay circled the orrery as Arjun stepped closer. “You have an unusual accent, Arjun. Where are you from?”

“A place called Gad. Far to the south.”

“There are still places outside Ararat, then. Sometimes I wonder. I am strangely relieved.”

“You are from the city, then, Mr. Shay?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He stopped circling by an open door. “Let’s see what I can offer you, then.” He darted through.

Arjun followed. At first, he couldn’t see where Shay had gone. The room was dark, and full of moldy chairs, arranged in circles around a circle of tables in the well of the room.

The door shut behind Arjun and the roof opened and stars splashed overhead, more than he had ever seen, even on the clearest mountain nights. The wheel of the galaxy spun across the sky, rushing in. A single point of light gleamed brighter and sharper, came closer and larger. A second star overtook it, rushing down, growing red and angry, blotched with orange. It was whipped away and another point of light expanded to fill the sky with a huge purple sphere, belted by a vast plane of smashed dust. Arjun stumbled back and fell. The planets paraded before him. A peaceful blue orb expanded across the heavens, and was gone. Darkness for a moment, then stars again, turning.

It was not really the sky, or the stars; the images were running across the ceiling somehow. He tried to reach up and touch them, but it was too far overhead. Pale white light ran over his reaching fingers, then red, then green. Shay came down the steps toward the center of the room. “My apologies, Arjun. I find it amusing, and it creates an appropriate atmosphere.”

“How are you doing it?”

“I’m not doing anything. What do you think I am? Don’t answer that. The machinery is in the ceiling. It was a mess. Hasn’t been maintained in gods only know how long. No one in this part of the city would know how. It’s most likely from elsewhere, like yours truly, fallen through, from some less fusty district. I know a few tricks, though. I found a way to get it working. Do you like it?”

“Less so than the real sky. It casts a false light.”

“Not such a good answer,” Shay sneered. He stood by a table, on which were arranged a number of small glass cases. There was a faint glow from within them. “Here they are, then,” Shay said. “Ararat’s divine presences. Caged and for sale. This is my business; this my merchandise. Interested, appalled, or both? What brings you here?”

Arjun walked up and down, looking in the cases. Their dusty plates were seamed with black gum. The glass was thick and grimy, like the windows of old charity-shops on empty streets. Inside each one, phosphor ghost light sparked, in dragonfly green-gold, occluded jellyfish purple and blue. An uncanny plasm. A shimmering slick, which shifted and coiled and scratched the glass. A soft electric crepitation. The light made his eyes feel shadowed and grainy.

He turned away from them, and said, “I’m not here on my own account, but as an agent for Professor Holbach.”

“Is
he
a purchaser?”

“I don’t know yet. He tells me you trap the faint and forgotten gods. Or you
say
you do. The presences the city has left behind. He says you catch them, cage them, and sell them, like animals, or slaves, or toys. Is that what these are?”

“Faint? Lean in close. You’ll see just how faint they are.”

“Who would buy these?”

“Who wouldn’t? To hold the powers of the city in your hand. As you love them, to possess them. As you hate them, to revenge yourself upon them. I don’t give a shit what you do. Sit it on your lap, hold it, let it sing to you, tell yourself it loves you and it gives you meaning, to possess such a wonderful thing. Spit at it. As you please. You would be surprised how much business I do. Rich and powerful men come sneaking in at night. They all try to cover their faces, do you know that? As if I know or care who they are. You don’t seem ashamed, though. I like that, Arjun. Go on. Lean in closer; feel their presences.”

Slowly, Arjun approached one of the cases and leaned down close to it. A buzzing filled his head. He felt drunk, dizzy, glorious, young, surrounded by friends and lovers. He laughed and cried. He pulled back and his head emptied out and was cold again. Laughing, Shay said, “That’s the
god
in it. See?”

Arjun leaned in over another, touching the case with his palm. A shock ran up his arm and he felt his muscle tense. His head pulsed like a raw wound. His lips curled back and he bared his teeth. A thrill of violence went through him. A noise halfway between bark and howl tore out past his grinding jaw. He pulled away, shaking his head, and went down the line of cases, through clouds of love and lust, hatred and pity, and more complex sensations: a complacent certainty of justice done, a craving for glory. When he was close to them, the cases radiated wonder. When he stepped back—which was hard to do—the sensation faded and left him feeling empty and soiled. They were ugly things. The glow in each of them seemed to be pressing at the glass, trying to escape. Surging and breaking, weakly.

“Are they aware in there? Do they feel?”

“An interesting question. If they have minds, they are—this is my view, Arjun—they are nothing like ours. Despite the delusions of the idiots outside, they do not love you, Arjun, or this city. Not in any way you could understand.”

Nevertheless, Arjun thought the things wanted to be free. He could feel it. Was that what the Voice was? Was the Chamber a cage? Had they held it prisoner? Maybe it hadn’t abandoned them; maybe it had
escaped
them. He went round the cases again, listening for its song. It was not there.

“Are you disgusted, Arjun? Many people are. You must have passed by a number of them on the way in here.”

“I don’t know. I still don’t know.”

“They call it blasphemy. Sacrilege. Some other words they can’t really explain. They’ll try to run me off soon, I expect.”

“Yes. The Countess’s men are coming for you soon.”

“Someone always does. I’ll take myself elsewhere for a time, and come back, soon, soon enough. I always do.”

“I’m here to ask you some questions. About your work.”

“Oh dear. I suppose I won’t be making a sale tonight.”

“I have no money, Mr. Shay. And the prices of these must be…extraordinary. Besides, they are not real.”

“Didn’t you
feel
them, Arjun?”

“I felt
something
. But I once felt the touch of the real thing. These are…false. Shoddy goods. A cheat. They’re only shadows of gods. What are they really?”

Shay shook his dirty white mane. “Oh no. I’m not here to answer your questions.”

“I can pay for your answers. I have nothing, but Holbach can make it worth your while to answer me.”

“I doubt it. My methods are my living; why would I share my secrets? And who is this Holbach, anyway?”

“You haven’t heard of him? I gather he’s famous.”

“I spend my time elsewhere. Other parts of the city.”

“He’s the creator of the
Thunderer
.”

“Isn’t that some local newspaper?”

“What? No. The warship. The flying warship?”

Shay stared at Arjun. “That changes things. I’ve seen it; it’s a remarkable achievement. I don’t care about the money, boy. But tell me how the ship works, and I’ll give you answers.”

Arjun thought quickly. He knew nothing about the ship, nothing at all. He took a gamble, and said, “The charm isn’t permanent. Holbach has to renew it each morning. He makes sacrifices of birds, down by the Bay. He burns the feathers.”

“Aha! There’s always a trick to it. It’s always both a true miracle
and
a sham. Now, you were honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you. They’re not gods. They’re mere traces, sloughings-off; reflections, you might say. Good enough for most of my customers; perhaps they lack sensitivity. Now, how was the ship raised? He used the Bird, that I know. But how?”

“Ah. The ship itself is made from pine taken from trees swept by the wind on mountain peaks. That’s part of it. How do you capture these reflections?”

“Well, not so much reflections as afterimages. I catch ’em on glass. There’s a trick. That’s part of it. Tell me more.”

Arjun kept lying. Shay swallowed every wild lie he could conceive. Or it seemed he did. Perhaps Shay was lying, too. It was hard for Arjun to remember everything Shay said, while still keeping track of his own fabrications; many of the details of Shay’s science escaped him. But he remembered that Shay reached under the table and snapped open a big black briefcase, and pulled out an odd little box, a bit like an accordion with a glass eye. Shay called it a heliotype. They had them, and better, in other parts of the city, Shay said. “Or they will. Some streets’ll take you there, if you walk ’em right.”

They captured light on glass. And, if properly treated, the glass could capture these afterimages of the gods, these ghostly trails of glory. Did the heliotype
make
these spectral energies, or
steal
them? Shay didn’t know or care.

“I’ve never seen anything like this. And I’ve crossed this whole world. What do you mean when you say ‘other parts of the city’? When you go into hiding, where do you go, Mr. Shay?”

“How will you pay for that information?”

Arjun tried to think of something else to say about the ship. Where was there a gap in his web of fabrications, some space he could fill with more lies?

In the silence, he realized, he could hear noises below. A window breaking. The chants of the crowd echoed distantly up the spiral corridor.
Hang ’im high!
They had got their courage up. Arjun wondered whether they had noticed he was missing, and followed him over the railings. They were coming.
Ride ’im out!

Grunting, Shay started packing the strange cages away in his briefcase. Arjun said, “Mr. Shay, you can’t leave yet. I don’t care how you capture the images. I need to know how you find the
gods
. Do you track them? Summon them? How is it done?”

“Oh? Used yer time poorly, didn’t you? Can’t you hear ’em?”

“Those questions were for Holbach. This is for me. I can’t let you leave.”

“Oh dear. We don’t have time for this, boy.” Shay abandoned his packing and put down the case he was holding.

“Take me with you, then.”

“You can’t follow. You don’t have the trick of it.”

The mob sounds were still some way below. Arjun drew his pistol and moved to stand between Shay and the door.

“It’s like that, is it, boy?” Shay put down the briefcase.

“You don’t have time to argue, Mr. Shay. You have to take me with you. We’ll go together.”

“Haven’t you been listening? There’s more to this city than you know. Than you or them below’ll ever see. Paths, places that open up only to the one who walks ’em right, and that’s me, and not you. You’re not even city-born. The city you see’s a curtain before your eyes. Where I go, you can’t come.”

“Show me how, then. Show me and I’ll follow. You won’t leave here without me.
Please,
Mr. Shay, be reasonable.”

“What’ll they do to you, do you think, if they find you doing business with me?”

“They may kill me. They
will
kill you. I can chance it.”

Shay’s sharp teeth smiled. “Very well, then. There’s a trick to it. Listen.” He started to whistle tunelessly.

The light in the case at his feet grew and pulsed and scratched at the glass. Arjun felt the throbbing at the back of his head. A great thrill rose in him. The walls stretched away. He could hear applause. All around him were people calling his name. He had never been prouder; there was nothing he couldn’t do with all this love, and he loved them back….

He stood there looking wide-eyed down the rows of empty chairs. He didn’t see Shay rushing him until the last second. The little man’s hair was wild and he was snarling. There was a knife in his hand, stabbing up. Arjun jumped back. Flailing his arm out in panic, he struck Shay’s knife with his pistol, knocking it aside. Shay staggered back, shocked. Arjun lost his own footing and fell back into a chair. Shay came at him again, the knife held high to stab down, and Arjun, his head clear, raised the pistol and fired. The bullet smashed Shay’s skull bloodily open. The flintlock’s dirty powder-flash lit his brittle white hair, and a wave of fire circled the orb of his head like dawn rising over the red planets above. Shay’s twitching leg gave way and his body fell back.