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  My father lifted a glass to his lips. ‘What is?’

  ‘Have you ever had that feeling where you’ve woken up from a dream, and you’re not quite sure that it didn’t happen? Or that you wonder if you might still be in the dream?’ I shook my head, putting on my best confused expression. ‘That’s how it’s starting to seem about all those things that happened in space. If you weren’t here to tell me they really happened, I might start doubting they ever did!’ Then I cocked my head. ‘They did happen, didn’t they?’

  ‘Of course they did. But if you feel that it hurts to keep dwelling on them, I won’t be the one to keep reminding you.’

  He turned the glass this way and that, studying the angle of the fluid against the sides. I must have seen him do that ten thousand times when we were growing up and not once had I ever thought about what was holding that fluid in the glass, stopping it drifting away. I wondered if my father had ever given any thought to the swallower sitting in the middle of Mazarile, hugging everything close to it like a jealous spider.

  ‘All that matters, I suppose, is that we cherish her memory,’ I said. Then, with a shift of tone: ‘Is that the newspaper with the obituary notice in it, Father?’

  His face tightened. ‘It is, Fura, but I wouldn’t want you to be upset by it.’

  ‘I can’t be any more upset than I already am,’ I said, swallowing down hard and putting a quiver into my lower jaw. ‘But I won’t feel that I’ve done her memory justice unless I read her obituary. I owe her that much, don’t I?’

  Father passed the newspaper over to me.

  ‘It’s tucked away at the bottom of a page. Do you want me to find it for you?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said gamely. I turned the pages, the thin greasy paper rasping against my fingers. I thought of all the newspapers printed each day, on all the twenty thousand settled worlds of the Congregation, and all the serious, respectable men and women who sat at tables like our own, in houses much like this, and in cities and towns much like Hadramaw, counting or lamenting their own blessings while digesting the ups and downs of the fortunes of others. On each of those worlds thousands of other men and women were engaged in the creation, printing and distribution of these newspapers, an effort so concerted and efficient that it was almost like a military campaign, and yet at the end of each day it counted for naught because the papers were gathered up, shredded, made into vast new reams of blank paper, so that the work could begin entirely anew.

  ‘Yes, I see it now,’ I said, tightening my hold on the pages as I read the few lines reserved for Adrana. It was much as I had imagined: mention of a short illness, beloved daughter, inconsolable loss, terrible sadness and so on. I almost choked back a tear. ‘I didn’t deserve to be the lucky one,’ I said, my voice breaking.

  ‘You must never say that.’

  ‘She was always cleverer than me. Why did she have to be the one who died?’

  ‘Let us be grateful you came back to us,’ Father said. ‘And that you’re here to stay.’

  ‘I am,’ I said, and I made to close the newspaper before reopening it. ‘Is it all right if I read it again? They’re such beautiful words, I want to remember them for ever.’

  ‘If they help you,’ Father said.

  ‘They do,’ I said.

  But I was not looking at the obituary column now. I had turned over the next set of pages, the business and trade notices for our little sphereworld. They were a familiar part of the paper and listed every development of note that might be of interest to someone in the higher echelons of Mazarile commercial life.

  Including the coming and going of ships from Hadramaw and Incer docks.

  14

  The room was still dark, with only a greyish slant of predawn light pushing through the curtains. My skin still glowed. I was glad of that, for I made my own light as I moved to the cupboard, pulled out the boxes and started putting him back together.

  Paladin was a long time returning to full cognition. He chattered away, and lights pulsed, but at least five minutes must have passed before a voice buzzed out of the torso.

  ‘Arafura. How long has it been?’

  ‘Just a day, Paladin. What kept you?’

  ‘I was consolidating deep logic pathways when you put my head back on. Have you found all the pieces of me?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I beetled my brows in irritation. ‘How would you expect me to know?’

  ‘You seem agitated.’

  ‘Damn right I’m agitated. Prozor’s message. You remember Prozor, don’t you?’ I didn’t wait for an answer. ‘The ship she mentioned – the Queen Crimson. It’s already docked at Hadramaw. The only good thing is that it’s not at Incer, so at least I don’t have to go halfway around Mazarile to get there. But according to Father’s newspaper it docked with us on Sunderday and now it’s Forgeday, and for all I know they’re about ready to cast off and head out and Prozor will be wondering why I never bothered to answer her message . . .’

  ‘If you think Prozor is on Mazarile, why has she not come to the house?’

  ‘Did you understand even a quarter of that message, Paladin? She’s trying to behave as if she doesn’t know me. That way there’s a chance I can sign on to that ship without someone finding it suspicious.’

  ‘That is your objective, then. To sign on to this vessel.’

  ‘Yes, and you’re going to help me. You don’t have to do much. Just get me out of this house, and I’ll take care of the rest. They’re going to try and track me if I don’t get this bracelet off me. Can you help with that?’

  ‘I do not think so.’

  ‘I met a robot who could get through locks. Why can’t you?’

  ‘There is a lot that I cannot do, Fura. The robot you met may have had an effector module. Mine was deinstalled when they put in my blockades. Besides, there are other considerations.’ Paladin ruminated, a daisy chain of lights going around in his globe. ‘You would be exposing yourself to considerable risk, if you managed to join another crew. I must think about this a little more, before I come to a decision. You will need to be patient.’

  The lights faded. I sat there, jaw open, as the robot shut itself down again. That slant of light had moved across the floor in the time since I had left the bed, and become paler. Day was stealing in.

  ‘Don’t do this to me,’ I said, knuckling the dome. ‘Not now!’

  The clock struck six, and I was still there, cross-legged, rocking back and forth in despairing indecision. If someone came along now I’d be worse off than if I’d never put him back together. But if I started taking him apart I might do him more harm than good. Trying to make the best use of the time, I got up and filled a pillow case with a few things that I’d miss not having if I had to leave Mazarile. It wasn’t much, and the last thing to go inside was the black cover of Rackamore’s Book of Worlds, with all its pages torn out. It wasn’t much use to anyone, I knew, but it was a link back to the Monetta and if ever my resolve started faltering, I’d have that memento to keep me on course.

  Six thirty, and then the seven o’clock bell. I’d never known a longer hour.

  Paladin lit up again.

  ‘Are you still settled on this course of action, Arafura?’

  ‘Yes, and keep your voice down.’

  ‘I am sorry. Is that better? Now, where were we? Decisions, yes. You will not be content unless you find your way to Hadramaw Dock. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes! You knew all that before you switched off.’

  ‘In this room, you are safe from immediate physical harm. That is clear to me. But you are also in continuing and worsening distress because you wish to be somewhere else. The question for me has been one of balancing these factors – of discharging my duty of protection in the fullest sense. Even for a machine with a high cognitive ceiling, this has been a most taxing calculation. But it is complete now, and I
have my answer.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Put my arms back on. And do so with some haste. I have detected a presence at the front door. I believe you may shortly have a visitor.’

  I had the first of the arms in my hand. It was heavy, but also limp, with Paladin’s claw-hand sagging uselessly from the universal joint of its wrist.

  There were circular attachment points on either side of the upper torso, and corresponding interfaces on the top parts of the arms. I brought the first of the arms into position, then watched as the little worms slid out of holes again, making good the connections. The arm tugged itself tight with a snap, then flexed sharply at the elbow, the claw-hand almost skimming my face.

  I toppled back, aghast.

  ‘I am sorry. An unscheduled motor operation. All is well.’

  ‘It had better be.’

  ‘Please attach the other arm. I hear footsteps on the lower staircase.’

  I repeated the operation, taking care this time to jerk out of reach as soon as the arm connected. But there was no reflex action this time.

  Instead, Paladin lowered the arms, placed its claw-hands against the floor, and telescoped the arms until they were supporting its entire weight, lifting the flat base of the torso section clear of the ground.

  ‘Slide the lower part under me.’

  I did as I was told. Paladin shuffled into position on his hands, then telescoped down until the two sections were in contact. I heard more mechanical sounds, clicks and buzzes and ratcheting noises.

  ‘What next? There are still lots of parts left over.’

  ‘I do not need them all for the moment. But I must have my wheels. I will raise myself to my fullest extent. You will attach the front and rear wheel units.’

  ‘Can you still hear those footsteps?’

  ‘On the second staircase. There is an asymmetry in the footfalls.’

  I held the rear wheel assembly in my hand. ‘That’s Morcenx, all right. He’s got a limp even without that bag of his. Don’t you want me to take you apart and put you back in the cupboard?’

  ‘Not this time, Arafura. Position that wheel under me.’ Paladin adjusted himself. ‘Good. The interface is secure. Now my two front wheels. One at a time. Our visitor is now on the third staircase. It seems probable that this is the intended destination.’

  I thought of the swipe of that arm, how close it had come to taking my face off. ‘Are you going to hurt him?’

  ‘Would you like me to?’

  ‘Yes . . .’ the word tripped out of me. ‘No. Not really. Stop him, yes. And he can’t call out and signal for help or make any noise that would bring Father.’

  ‘You ask a lot of an old soldier.’

  I positioned the first of the two front wheels into approximate position. Paladin lowered. But instead of the connecting sounds I had heard before, there were only faltering buzzes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘That is the left wheel. The interfaces are handed. Position the right wheel where you have the left one.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You need not apologise. I suspect this is the first time for both of us.’

  I swapped the wheels around. ‘Jusquerel would have known what to do.’

  Paladin settled down again. ‘I do not know that name. Was Jusquerel a recent acquaintance?’

  ‘Just someone I knew.’ I swallowed. ‘Not really well. But enough to miss her.’

  ‘Now the other wheel. Your visitor is on the upper landing now.’

  I completed the final connection. Paladin lowered himself, his arms contracting back to their normal extension. For a moment the robot was still. Then he made a humming sound and rolled back and forward a short distance. He gave off a sharp burning odour.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I will suffice. Morcenx is in the corridor. You should get back into bed.’

  There was no time to tidy up the remaining parts of Paladin, or stuff the boxes back into the cupboard. But I was just able to return to the bed, draw the sheets over myself, and slump back onto the pillow, feigning drowsy-eyed semi-wakefulness, when Doctor Morcenx opened the door. Paladin had reversed himself promptly, parking against the wall so that he was partly hidden by the now open door.

  ‘There’s an odd smell in this place,’ Morcenx said. ‘Like burning. What have you been doing, Arafura?’

  He started to close the door behind him.

  I suppose there was a moment when he registered the robot’s presence, and another in which he had time to reflect on the very obvious wrongness of the robot being there, but there certainly wasn’t time for him to move or call out before Paladin acted.

  There was a flash from the globe. It was bright even for me, and I only caught the harmless edge of it.

  Doctor Morcenx groaned. He dropped his bag and toppled back, flailing.

  Paladin rolled forward. The doctor hit the floor, pawing at his eyes and whimpering. Paladin extended its rear wheel, causing its entire upper structure to tilt over the agonised physician.

  ‘What would you like me to do next?’

  I extracted myself from the bed. I was still weak, and despite the drugs my skin still itched and crawled. But for the first time since returning to Mazarile I felt alive and full of purpose.

  I knelt down next to Doctor Morcenx.

  ‘You weren’t expecting that, were you?’

  ‘My eyes,’ he whimpered.

  ‘They’re fine. Or they will be.’ I looked at the robot for some reassurance on this score, but all I saw was the warped reflection of my own face, staring back from the globe with the wild lunatic eyes. ‘Now sit up and stop whimpering like a little puppy.’

  He forced himself into a sitting position, his legs still skewed out from under him. ‘I’m weak.’

  ‘Just how I’ve been feeling since you started putting your stupid drugs into me.’ I reached for his bag and slid it over to him. I snapped the clasp and forced his hand into the bag’s maw. ‘You know your way around that thing. Do whatever you need to do to get this bracelet off me.’

  ‘Please . . .’

  I cuffed him across the side of his face. ‘Please nothing. I haven’t got all day.’

  His eyes still screwed up, water trickling out of them, he rummaged his fat pale fingers through the bag. ‘I can’t. The bracelet needs a special release code and I didn’t think to bring it . . .’ Then he gave a hopeless little sob. ‘I still can’t see. I think you’ve really blinded me.’

  Losing my patience, I tipped the bag upside down and spilled its contents onto the floor. Out came numerous containers, vials, syringes. I pawed through the medical clutter until my fingers closed on a bottle full of some dark purple fluid. I thumbed the stopper away and jabbed a syringe into the inky contents, withdrawing the piston until the cylinder was fully charged.

  ‘Get on your feet.’ I touched the tip of the needle against the flab of his neck. ‘Do you feel that? It’s a syringe, ready to be squirted right into you.’

  He struggled to his feet, blinking furiously. ‘What are you hoping to achieve by this, Arafura?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve lots of plans. Precisely none of which you need to know.’ I dug the tip of the needle a little further into him, dimpling his flesh down under the pressure, but not yet drawing blood. ‘Move. You’re my hostage now, until we’re out of this house.’

  We left my room, with me still clutching the pillowcase I’d filled earlier. I was to Morcenx’s right, using my free hand to twist his arm around to the small of his back while I used the fingers of the other to press the syringe against his neck, trying not to drop the pillowcase in the process. I thought of all the limbs a Crawly had and wished I’d a few spare ones of my own. At least Morcenx wasn’t struggling. All his strength counted for nothing now, with the fear of that injection.

&n
bsp; ‘We must take the service elevator,’ Paladin said, as we moved out of the bedroom, turning left into the adjoining corridor. The elevator was near the end of it, where the corridor met the landing on the top of the third flight of stairs.

  ‘I can manage the stairs,’ I said.

  ‘I do not doubt it. However, I cannot. The service elevator will accommodate all three of us.’

  I heard footsteps below us, my father struggling up the stairs.

  ‘She’s got me, Mr Ness. I’m being taken hostage! Your daughter is psychotic!’

  The robot opened the trelliswork door to the service elevator. I pushed Morcenx inside, nearly stabbing him with the needle, then squeezed in as tightly as I could so that there was room for Paladin as well. The floor was cold metal under my feet. The robot backed in, jamming its rear wheel against my heel, and with a flick of its claw heaved shut the trelliswork door. Through the door’s lattice I saw my father reach the top of the stairs, appraise the empty landing, and then notice the service elevator.

  I let go of Morcenx and reached over to the control panel. It was a simple metal plate with each floor and sub-floor given a separate button. My hand hovered over the button for the entrance level. Father rushed forward. He was still in his nightclothes, but with a gown thrown over his shoulders.

  ‘Arafura,’ he said, stooping from exertion, his hands on his knees. ‘What are you doing—’

  ‘It’s all right, Father. I’m not going to hurt him. But you’re going to let me out of the house. No one comes after us, and you don’t call the constables.’

  ‘You can’t do this,’ he said. ‘The family name, all that we’ve done.’

  ‘It was a mistake,’ I said, ‘letting me see that newspaper. Now I know all the ships coming and going from Incer Dock. Oh, and you could have spared yourselves the cost of that obituary. You’re going to have to print a retraction.’

  ‘What can I do to make you stop?’ Father asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘But you can help Doctor Morcenx by not slowing me down. You can also go and fetch that bag of quoins I had on me. They’re probably in your study, Father, in that safe you don’t think I’ve ever seen you use. You can collect them on your way down.’