Once everyone had stopped pointing guns at each other and decided that they were on the same side for the moment, the Century Knights and the crew of the Ketty Jay had led their prisoners back into the depths of the undergrowth. They needed to get off the patrol route for a quick and dirty interrogation. Frey chafed at the small delay, but he went with it. He reckoned he had a much better chance of getting to where he needed to be with the Century Knights on board, and they might come with him once they’d satisfied themselves here. Besides, their encounter with the patrol had made him wary. He wasn’t so sure that getting the relic back to its rightful place would be as simple as he’d hoped.
‘The way I see it,’ he said to Samandra, ‘I’ve led you to the most important find since they discovered New Vardia. Wanna know why the Sammies pulled out of the war? Wanna know what they’ve really been up to for the last eight years or so? Look down there.’ He waved vaguely in the direction of the excavation, then folded his arms. ‘I reckon that more than cancels out a few smashed-up museum pieces and some petty theft.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ Samandra said.
He was stoic in the face of her scorn. ‘Yep.’
Her expression showed him nothing. She flicked her gaze to Crake, and her eyes hardened. He cringed. Then she stalked over to the prisoners. Grudge followed her, glaring at Frey as he passed.
Crake sidled up. ‘She hates me,’ he lamented.
‘What? Samandra? No! Didn’t you see that look?’
‘You mean that look of pure loathing she just gave me?’
‘You joking? That wasn’t real loathing. That was I’m not ready to forgive you yet loathing.’
‘I had no idea there were such subtle variations,’ said Crake.
‘Well, I know women, and take it from me, there are,’ Frey assured him confidently. ‘And it means she is gonna forgive you eventually. You might have to jump through a few hoops first though.’
‘You really think so?’ The hope in Crake’s eyes bordered on pathetic.
Frey squeezed his shoulder. Cajoling his mates through heartbreak was comfortable territory. ‘You had honourable intentions, right? You were trying to save my life. She knows that now. You just gotta give her time to get over being angry.’
Crake watched her uncertainly.
‘Of course, she might be a while torturing you before she does,’ Frey added.
‘I deserve it,’ said Crake unhappily.
‘That’s the spirit! They love it when you come out with that kind of stuff.’
‘But I do!’ he protested.
‘Keep it up,’ said Frey with a wink.
Crake gave up trying to persuade him and mooched off to the other side of the clearing, where Malvery and Pinn were loafing against a tree. There was a pile of backpacks there: Crake’s portable equipment, which he’d insisted they bring. Bess lurked nearby, doing her best to be quiet. Every so often she made to lunge after a passing butterfly, before remembering her instructions and withdrawing, chastened. They’d kept her at a distance once Silo picked up the trail of the Century Knights, otherwise they’d never have got close enough to spring the ambush. Bess was incapable of being stealthy.
Frey watched the four of them. There was such a feeling of unbearable warmth glowing in his chest that he feared he might disgrace himself and well up. They’d never stop taking the piss then.
They’d come after him. He left them behind, and they followed him anyway. Even after he’d absolved them of all responsibility for his life. Even after all the screw-ups and disasters he’d put them through. They’d found the daemon-thralled compass in his quarters, jumped in the remaining two Rattletraps and chased off after him. They could only fit six in all, so Harkins had stayed behind, to keep an eye on Jez, who still hadn’t recovered.
‘Is anybody not tracking me?’ he’d asked when they told him, but secretly he was overjoyed. Being everyone’s centre of attention was never a bad thing. He wondered if he’d subconsciously left the compass behind on purpose.
The loss of Trinica was an ache that nothing could soothe, but it seemed a separate thing to the love he felt for his crew right then. Strange that he could be so happy and sad at the same time. Maybe, given time, his feelings might sort themselves out; but there was no time to be had right now. He had a job to do, and his men were relying on him.
He was their captain, after all.
He strode over to the prisoners, pushing aside leaves and creepers as he went. ‘What’s the story?’ he asked Silo.
‘Ain’t much they can tell us that the Yort hasn’t already figured out,’ said Silo. ‘Couple things, though. That big buildin’ makin’ lightnin’? They reckon that’s what powers this place. It was workin’ when the Sammies got here.’
‘Do they know why our craft went down?’ Samandra asked.
‘Yours too?’ said Frey.
‘Happens to everyone,’ said Ashua. ‘It’s some kind of invisible force that scrambles anything more complex than a basic engine. Even the Sammies can only come in and out by ground vehicles. Apparently there’s one or two Sammie aircraft that come in and out – that’s why they cleared the landing pad – but they’ve no idea why they’re immune to the force and others aren’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, that’s probably why the place went undetected so long. That, and the fact that you can’t see it till you’re right on top of it.’
‘If we wanna get out of here, we’re gonna have to shut off what-ever’s scramblin’ our engines,’ said Samandra. She motioned towards the prisoners. ‘Do they know what generates it?’
‘Nuh,’ said Silo. ‘But I’ll bet whatever it is, it won’t work so good without power.’
Samandra thought about that for a minute. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute, Frey?’
They moved away from the group, out of earshot. Samandra leaned in close, talking low. Frey would ordinarily have committed murder for that chance to be this close to a woman as beautiful as Samandra Bree, but Trinica’s rejection had temporarily crippled his libido.
‘Here’s the deal,’ she said. ‘You’ve been a son of a bitch, Frey, but this is bigger than both of us. The Sammies are pullin’ up Azryx tech. Spit knows what they could do with it. That’s why, in the national interest, I’m gonna forget what you got up to in Thesk, and you’re gonna help me shut down that power plant so our craft can get airborne. Someone needs to get back to the Archduke and tell him what’s up.’
‘Hmm,’ said Frey. ‘See, the national interest doesn’t do me much good if I’m dead, and I’m really short on time for lifting this curse. I got my own priorities.’ He lifted up his gloved hand.
‘Damn it, Frey! Then lend me some of your men and go do what you have to do. It’s only a matter of time before they notice their patrol is missin’. We have to strike now!’
He shook his head. ‘My men wouldn’t follow you, and I wouldn’t trust ’em to you anyway.’ He thought for a minute, and then it all suddenly became clear. ‘But I’ve got a way. One condition, though.’
‘What?’
‘Be nice to Crake. That poor idiot’s halfway in love with you, and he did what he did on my account. You can bet it tore him up to do it. I shouldn’t have made him choose between me and where his heart was.’ He gave her a rueful look. ‘It’s a bad habit of mine.’
Samandra softened for an instant, surprised he’d spoken so plainly. Then she turned away with a snort.
He didn’t wait for anything else from her. There’d be no easy forgiveness for Crake. But maybe he’d gone a little way to righting the wrong.
‘Gather up, everyone!’ he said. They got to their feet and came over: Malvery, Pinn, Ashua, Crake and Silo. Ugrik came after, and Bess, who was making a clumsy attempt at sneaking to minimise the creak and squeak of her joints. The two Century Knights remained at a distance.
Frey looked over Silo’s shoulder as the Murthian approached. The prisoner he’d been interrogating had been gagged now. He hadn’t been harmed. Silo could have cut the Sammies??
? throats and no one would have stopped him, but there didn’t seem to be any of that in his eyes when he looked at Frey. The last shreds of doubt at what he was about to do fluttered away then.
‘Here’s the plan,’ he said. He looked up at the red sky: the sun was no longer visible through the trees. ‘And we don’t have time for argument. Ugrik’s gonna lead me to the place where he found the relic. We can move quicker and quieter with just a few. Crake, you come with us. In case of daemonic emergency.’
‘What about the rest of us?’ asked Pinn.
‘You go with Bree and Grudge. You guys are gonna take out that power plant.’
There was the expected chorus of protests, led by Pinn. ‘Hey, there’s no way I’m taking orders from a Century Knight!’
Frey held up his hands. ‘I know, I know. And you won’t be.’ He clapped his hand on Silo’s shoulder. ‘You’ll be taking orders from the first mate of the Ketty Jay.’
There was a puzzled beat while everyone caught up with the implications of that. Malvery and Crake looked at each other.
‘Fair enough with me,’ said Malvery.
‘And me,’ said Crake.
Pinn shrugged. ‘Yeah, I suppose,’ he said, without enthusiasm.
‘I thought he already was the first mate,’ said Ashua, puzzled.
Silo hadn’t taken his gaze from Frey’s. As if he was trying to divine his captain’s intention, searching for some ulterior motive that wasn’t there.
‘You sure about this?’ he asked.
‘Should’ve done it years ago,’ said Frey.
Then, shockingly, Silo grinned. Frey could count on one hand the amount of times he’d seen the Murthian smile big enough to show his teeth.
‘Alright, Cap’n,’ he said. ‘First mate it is.’
Frey was glad at that. The decision, once made, seemed right and obvious, but he hadn’t been sure Silo would accept.
‘If I don’t make it . . .’ he said. He frowned, wondering if he should take this final step. But it seemed there would be no other time to say it, and it had to be said. ‘If I don’t make it, the Ketty Jay’s yours,’ he said. ‘Jez knows the ignition code; she can fly it when she wakes. You . . . well . . .’ He was embarrassed to find a lump gathering in his throat. ‘You make sure this lot stick together, if I’m not around to do it.’
His crew stared at him. A long, awkward string of seconds followed, such as men often experience when something of emotional importance occurs. Then Silo gave a small nod.
‘I will, Cap’n.’
Frey breathed out, relieved to be released from the moment. Suddenly, he was all business. ‘Ugrik, Crake, let’s go.’
‘We’ll need to bring my gear,’ Crake said.
So the three of them picked up a pack. They weighed a lot more than their size would suggest, but Frey didn’t care at this point. Crake’s tricks were the last line of defence, if things went wrong. And Frey was planning on scrapping every inch of the way. He was damned if he was dying tonight.
That done, they distributed the earcuffs to stay in contact, and Crake gave the compass to Silo so he could find the Cap’n again if necessary.
Ugrik, Crake and Frey headed off into the undergrowth. As they were leaving, Frey stopped and looked over his shoulder.
‘Keep ’em safe for me, Silo,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back.’
Forty-One
Dynamite – The Lake – Tombs – Ashua Makes an Entrance – ‘You Gotta See This!’
The power station towered over the surrounding buildings, flashing with miniature storms in the gathering dark.
Silo watched it distrustfully from the foliage. The enormous hourglass structures to either side were lit up by flurries of lightning. The gas within glowed with pale colours, stirred by the rotating arms that orbited each half of the hourglasses.
It seemed somehow malevolent to his eyes.
The power station stood on the topmost of three great platforms, each offset from the other to form irregular steps. The platforms were linked by wide ramps, and stood on perilously slender pillars. Several of the pillars rose from an ornamental pool at the base of the platforms. Once it might have been picturesque, but the water was turgid now, muddied with soil washed down from the slopes.
They were gathered at the fringe of the excavated part of the city, where the undergrowth suddenly stopped and the streets and buildings of the Azryx were revealed in all their strangeness. Beyond, there would be few places to hide.
Electric lights had been set up in the streets, running off petrol generators that rattled and fumed. Presumably the Sammies hadn’t worked out how to tap the energy from the city yet. Clumsy cables and scuffed metal seemed out of place here: the smudged fingerprint of industry on a place of serenity, clean lines and silence.
The approaching night had put an end to the excavation work, and there were diggers and tractors and earth-moving machines parked up in the avenues. Sammies walked in groups, talking and laughing. Labourers, technicians and scholars, heading to and from the camp on the edge of the excavated zone. The occasional patrol passed by, barely alert.
Silo noted that there wasn’t a single Dak or Murthian to be seen. This place was so secret that not even slaves could know about it. Anywhere else, Murthians would have been doing all the labour while the Daks did the overseeing, administration and everything else. The Sammies would only be there to call the shots. But here, they had sha’awei to do all the work – brown-eyed Samarlans from the common caste – and they were being bossed around by the goldeneyed yansi nobles. He felt a certain bitter satisfaction at the thought of them getting their hands dirty for once.
Bitter, but not angry. The sight of Fal bleeding out in the arms of his wife had been the end of his youthful rage. Oh, he still hated the Sammies, alright; but after so long away, the lust to kill had faded. There was no satisfaction in it. Coming back to Samarla had briefly reignited the passion, but it hadn’t lasted.
He’d kill them if there was a need, just like he’d kill anyone else. But he didn’t crave it like he used to.
Besides, he had responsibilities now. Keep ’em safe for me, the Cap’n had said.
If I can, Cap’n. If I can.
There was a rustle in the leaves as Malvery shifted his bulk. ‘That power station is very pretty and all,’ he said. ‘But how are we gonna get to it? And what do we do when we’re there?’
‘Regardin’ the second question,’ said Samandra Bree, ‘I think my partner’s got a plan.’
Silo looked over his shoulder at Grudge. The huge Century Knight was hunkered in the shadows, eyes glittering amid a shaggy mass of black hair and beard. He brought out a small satchel from beneath a mass of ammo belts and pulled the flap open. ‘Dynamite,’ he rumbled.
‘Colden here don’t go anywhere without his dynamite,’ said Samandra.
‘It’s good stuff,’ said Grudge. ‘Stable. You could shoot it ’n’ it probably wouldn’t blow.’
Silo looked in the bag. There were about eight sticks in there. Enough to make a big hole in pretty much anything.
‘So here’s what I reckon,’ said Samandra. ‘We get in there. We find somethin’ that looks like it shouldn’t be blown up. And we blow it up.’
‘That’s the best the Century Knights have got?’ Ashua asked. ‘I gotta confess, I’m a little disappointed. After all I heard about you lot in the broadsheets, I expected some kind of fiendishly clever strategy. Blow it up? That sounds like something the Cap’n would come up with.’
‘Sometimes the old plans are the best plans,’ said Samandra, with a charmingly venomous smile. ‘Listen, there’s Knights that could sneak in and out of there and blow up that power station so quiet the Sammies wouldn’t notice for a week. But you got us instead. And no one’s gettin’ out of here with that thing still runnin’.’ She peered through the foliage. ‘Right now, we got the advantage of surprise, and the fact that Grudge has a damn great autocannon. We got your golem, and I ain’t a bad shot myself.’
> ‘Ain’t no way we runnin’ up three o’ them great big ramps with Sammies firin’ down on us,’ said Silo. ‘Cap’n wants me to bring some crew back alive.’
‘Aye,’ said Malvery. ‘Pinn’s been shot enough lately, I reckon.’
‘So what’s the plan, Mr First Mate?’ said Pinn, with a challenge in his voice that said he was faintly jealous of Silo’s appointment.
Silo looked out of the undergrowth at the alien streets and avenues, bone-white in the lamplit twilight. His gaze fell on the colossal earth-moving machines, abandoned after the day’s excavation.
‘Ashua,’ he said. ‘You ever steal a vehicle?’
‘I grew up in the Rabban slums,’ she said. ‘I can steal anything.’
‘In that case,’ said Silo, sitting back and looking at the men and women under his command. ‘I got an idea.’
The lake was a sullen red, a mirror to the last light of the day. The rising moon swam in it, a perfect orb.
Crake stared across the water. The birds had stilled now, and the insects were subdued. The foliage that choked the shore rustled softly in a warm breeze carried from the desert. It was quiet enough to hear the faint voices of the Samarlans, further along the lakeshore and upslope.
He felt the hand of history on his shoulder. Spit and blood, that he should be here and see this! An Azryx city! And there was no doubt that it was Azryx, or whatever the true name of the race was that Professor Malstrom had been blindly groping for. He and Jez had talked of Malstrom’s theories from time to time. He’d scoffed at them; Jez had pitied the Professor for being so obsessed and so wrong.
But Malstrom hadn’t been wrong. He’d just been looking in the wrong place.
The architecture and materials put this far beyond the reach of ancient Samarlans. These people had been here long before any currently known civilisation had ever existed. These people had practised daemonism to a higher art than the best practitioners of today. The craft that he’d devoted his life to was not new, it was a rediscovery of the work of their betters. That thought made him feel dwindlingly small.