Winterstrike (35 page)

‘Where did it go?’ I asked.

The kappa pointed. ‘Down there.’

‘All right.’ I glanced back at the orthocopter. ‘Better make sure that’s secure if we’re going after it. Is that what you plan to do?’ I rather hoped the
answer would be
No,
but that left the question of what would happen to Rubirosa and myself: I doubted that the kappa would be willing to drop us off somewhere more civilized.

‘It’s been tagged,’ the kappa said. ‘We can track it if we wish.’

Rubirosa looked uneasily down into the canal. There was a reek of salt water and weed; the whole city stank of the sea. It might have been a fine place once. I thought of cold Winterstrike,
swallowed by its own canals, and repressed a shudder.

‘This is supposed to be a haunt of demothea,’ I said. Evishu gave me a level look. ‘Yes, it is. Are you willing to proceed? Two of us are already dead. I can’t force you
to go with me.’

‘I’ll go,’ I said. I’d come too far to turn back now – not that I had much to go back for, except a court martial from Gennera and probably worse. ‘But I
don’t want anything stealing our only way out of here.’

‘I’ll go, too,’ Rubirosa said. ‘Makes more sense to stick together.’ She smiled at me.

‘Very well, then,’ Evishu said, an unlikely general. Her webbed feet made a faint sucking sound on the concrete as we went back to the orthocopter and secured it. Then, with Evishu
carrying the rescued stun gun, we set off.

The name of the city had been lost, the Library said. We went down a flight of stairs, the carpet long since rotted to faint stains on the stone, and through a gloomy hall. Paintings hung on its
walls, almost indistinguishable under blots of mould, long-dead human faces staring out beneath their blemishes. Some of them were men and their painted gaze made my skin crawl as we walked between
their ranks. Maybe they’d been rulers here, or maybe it was just a family. Calmaretto’s family portraits, I reflected, were in the most part the same face.

At the end of the hall Evishu paused to check the tracker. ‘It came through here,’ she said. ‘It’s somewhere further down in the building.’

‘Is it still moving?’

‘No. Sometimes they hole up and wait for prey.’

‘What do they eat?’ I asked. The thing had been so alien that it was hard, somehow, to see it being open to animal needs.

‘Anything they can,’ the kappa said. Cautiously, we pushed open the door and came out into a long corridor. The light of the kappa’s torch played dimly over the walls, which
were covered with rotting wood: the remnants of old panelling. ‘If it’s gone into the cellars,’ the kappa said, ‘we might not be able to follow it. At least, you might not.
They’re bound to be flooded.’

‘Look, if that turns out to be the case, we’re going back to the orthocopter,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to try to catch that thing in water.’

‘It would not be wise,’ Evishu agreed.

Halfway down the next flight of stairs, the kappa’s torch went out. Rubirosa bumped into her and swore. There was an odd, pungent smell, like burned hair, overlaid with something less
tangible and more familiar.

‘Someone’s got haunt-tech here,’ I whispered.

These ruins are pre-haunt,’ the kappa said.

‘Nevertheless.’

It was growing stronger, making my skin creep. There hadn’t been the same smell when the demothea had attacked us in the orthocopter; this was different and made me think that it might be
coming from another source. I hoped so.

The kappa nudged me. ‘It’s underneath. Look.’ On the little antiscribe that she held, a red dot hovered below us. When we got to the next flight of stairs, the smell was
stronger yet, but this time it was accompanied by sound: a thin, increasing hiss.

‘Wait,’ I said to the kappa. I stole down the short flight of stairs, to where a ruined wall rose out of dark water. It didn’t make me feel any more secure about the
foundations of the structure. I looked through a gap in the wall and couldn’t see anything, but I could hear it: many things, whispering. Gradually, my eyes adjusted a little. Writhing
motion, black upon black. Not one demothea, but a multiplicity of them. I scrambled back up the stairs and told the kappa.

We didn’t risk staying long after that. We went through the hall as fast as possible.

‘Perhaps my superiors will see this as cowardly,’ Evishu said as we hastened.

‘At least you’re alive.’

‘They will not necessarily regard that as a plus.’

‘You did your best,’ I said.

Evishu turned to me and I saw, if not despair, then a profound concern in her round amphibian eyes. ‘You see, now, what we face? What’s been breeding here, perhaps
evolving?’

‘Evolving?’ Rubirosa echoed.

‘The Changed were bred with swift genetic codes,’ I said, ‘to deal with swiftly changing environments. Hardly surprising if new conditions bring out the worst in them. It made
them weak, but adaptable. I’m sorry,’ I added with belated tact to Evishu. ‘I know you’re one of them.’

We’re used to it,’ the kappa said mildly. ‘I take it as a compliment, even, that you don’t see me as so very different to yourself, that you can forget. We were
engineered for a specific purpose, however, and later than the rest, so that the mistakes that were made in the early days had become more obvious and could be avoided by the time it was our
turn.’ She gave me her wide smile. ‘The kappa have a reputation for gravity, slowness, ponderousness. And that’s being charitable.’

‘Better that than murderous and mad,’ I said.

‘As you say.’

The rain had blown itself out into the rides of the great Ropa Sea and there was a pallid stretch of sky in the west, as blue as an eggshell. To my great relief, the orthocopter was still where
we had left it, but that didn’t mean it was safe. I wanted it thoroughly checked for lurking life forms before we took off.

Evishu was looking at the scanner. ‘She’s on the move again,’ she murmured. I wasn’t pleased, remembering that writhing coil of life in the cellars. The meeting had
broken up, perhaps.

‘But we don’t know if it’s on its own,’ Rubirosa said.

‘We can’t take the chance,’ I added.

‘I agree,’ the kappa said, with regret. ‘But perhaps if we can see . . .’

‘Also I wouldn’t put it past that thing to hand the tag on.’ Rubirosa’s mouth turned down. ‘It’s as intelligent as we are, allegedly.’

‘They didn’t build this city, did they?’ I asked. ‘This
is
human?’

‘Yes. The demothea don’t seem very interested in buildings. Out in the marshes, they live in burrows and the hollows of trees.’

We made as thorough a check of the orthocopter as we could, both inside and out. We had to hurry, mindful of what might already be sliding up the stairs, but I didn’t want to find that
something had been clinging to the roof when we were in the air. The kappa kept checking the tag.

‘She’s moving away from here,’ she said. ‘Fast, along the street down there. She’s probably swimming.’

‘All clear here,’ Rubirosa said from the ceiling of the orthocopter. She slid down to join us on the roof. As far as I can tell.’

That illusionary thing,’ I began.

‘Don’t start,’ said Evishu, spreading webbed hands. ‘Once you get going with that, you’re never free of paranoia. And dealing with these beings, that’s no bad
thing. Keep your eyes out and your head as clear as you can.’

So this is what we did, whirling the orthocopter back up into the air. Evishu had tidied her colleagues’ bodies under the seats, not wanting to leave them for the demothea. They made extra
weight, but it didn’t seem right, she said. I could not blame her. We agreed, however, to take the orthocopter over the city and see if we could glimpse our escapee. The demothea’s
capacities apparently did not extend to air bombardment: their defences were biological rather than technological and it was, at least, something to be grateful for.

At the heart of the city, rising out of the floods, was the top of a great iron tower, like a cage or a pylon.

‘What was that, do you think?’ Rubirosa asked, leaning forward.

‘Some religious structure, no doubt. Some cultures put their dead out for the prey birds: sky burial, they call it. They do it in the Thibetan shamandoms, so I’ve heard.’ The
kappa spoke with authority and I wished we’d had more time to talk to her. Now that we’d made it to Earth, I had a hankering for more sightseeing than the endless dreariness of the Ropa
seas. The rain was sweeping in again, driving a wall of mist before it.

‘Where’s our quarry?’ I asked. The kappa consulted the tracker, which showed a red bead moving swiftly into the heart of the city.

There.’

‘I can take us lower,’ Rubirosa said. The orthocopter swung down through the veils of mist, taking us over pale buildings, dappled with mildew as the water claimed them. Then the
mist broke away and I saw a long avenue beneath us, wavelets breaking across its surface. Once, the people who lived there had put water doors in their homes, just as we did on Mars, but now the
levels had risen and only the tops of the doors were visible, some of them decorated with signs and symbols whose meaning I did not understand, but at which I could guess. Superstitions had been
rife, once it became clear that the seas were here to stay.

In the middle of the avenue, creating a small white wake of its own, arrowed a dark shape.

‘Got her!’ Rubirosa said.

‘Not yet.’ I turned to the kappa.

‘There’s a netting device at the base of the orthocopter,’ Evishu said. ‘It’s not much use out in the marshes – the reeds and the treetops catch it. But here,
without a lot in the way . . .’

‘It’s worth a try,’ I said. I motioned to Rubirosa to take the craft lower and we glided downwards. I thought, though I could not be certain, that the demothea’s oval
head moved up to look. Then it dived, and I was sure. I swore.

‘It’s gone.’

‘Not for long,’ the kappa said. ‘They’re amphibious, not aquatic. She’ll have to come up sooner or later.’

And a moment after that, she did: like a fishing bird breaking the surface. I saw the smooth arch of body, a tentacle curl, and then the demothea was shooting forward.

‘We’re almost at that tower,’ Rubirosa said. I’d been so busy concentrating on the demothea that I’d missed the passing scenery. I glanced up and saw that the tower
was rising before us, its massive rusty legs striding out of the water. Weed had crawled up it, giving it a green glisten, and birds had nested in it. The untidy heaps of reeds starred its joints,
and as the orthocopter whirred closer, a long-necked white form uncurled itself and glided down over the water. More followed, disturbed by our proximity, until the air was filled with wings.

‘Can’t see a damn thing!’ Rubirosa shouted.

‘Mind the tower.’ If we hit that, you could say goodbye to any plans of returning to Mars. Rubirosa veered the chopper around but there was no sign of the demothea.

We’ve lost it,’ the kappa said.

‘Not yet,’ I said. I could see something at the base of the tower: the demothea, swimming. Then it coiled an arm around a strut and pulled itself up. Determination seized me.

‘Open the hatch,’ I said.

‘What?’ Rubirosa turned, open-mouthed. ‘You’re not going out there.’

‘Give me the stun gun.’

The kappa was struggling with the hatch. I suspected this had less to do with compliance with my instructions, and came more from a feeling that I was probably dispensable. She thrust the
stunner into my hands and I fitted it to my belt, grasping the handle by the hatch with one hand. As the hatch opened and Rubirosa took the orthocopter dangerously near, I stepped down onto the
tower. I could see the demothea clearly now: its upturned face and the lamp-like eyes far below me. I thought, though could not have sworn to it, that there was a flicker of something in those eyes
as it looked at me. Recognition? Triumph? My own imagination? I could not say for sure, but the demothea started to climb.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Next morning I woke stiff and sore, feeling as though I’d run a marathon. I’d been dreaming about my sister, a ruined tower, a demothea . . . and then I realized
that all of it was true. Dismayed, I crawled out of bed and dressed in that winter uniform of leather skirt and silk blouse: the uniform of the bell guardian. It made me feel less disoriented, as
if life was normal after all and not the nightmare tangle it had become. I studied my face in the mirror. My white countenance, combined with the straight dark hair that fell in wings on either
side, reminded me too much of the demothea, and of Leretui. I went thoughtfully downstairs.

If my mothers had been silent yesterday, they were not so today. The dining room was an agitation of printed-out news-feeds: something had happened in the night, when I’d been cavorting
about after Leretui, or fitfully sleeping.

‘They’ve declared war on both cities,’ Thea was saying.

‘Don’t be so stupid. How could they?’ Alleghetta said.

‘Who?’ I asked. Thea waved the paper at me.

The Noumenon. There was a strike on the city this morning – some new kind of haunt-weapon. There are ghosts in the streets, ones that no one has seen before.’

‘Are you sure it’s the Noumenon? Not Caud, pretending?’

‘They’ve issued a statement.’

‘What kind of ghosts?’

‘Men-remnants,’ Thea hissed. ‘And the Changed. Things no one has seen for generations.’

I’d like to have said:
What harm can ghosts do?
But I knew all too well how badly weir-wards could affect people, disrupting spirit and body alike, and the little pieces of my own
missing soul were also there to remind me with their lack.

It was, however, almost refreshing to have something else to worry about. No one mentioned Leretui, and so neither did I. I went with Thea into the study, to scan the antiscribe for public
announcements.

These were numerous, and characteristic. The Matriarchy of Winterstrike expressed outrage and shock. The Matriarchy of Caud spoke of their rage in being betrayed, though since the Noumenon had
never been an ally of Caud, I could not see how.