New Enemies

  Part of her felt guilty at neglecting her more mundane responsibilities that morning, but looking into an act of skimming, of Heresy, was too important. There were crumbling homes near Side's house, so she would inspect them whilst there and then spend the day writing up outstanding reports: it wouldn't matter if she didn't patrol today. If anything, it might be better if Grain and Par thought she was keeping out of the way.

  Chain set off early to meet Side, skipping breakfast and time with Carmen to do so. Buckle was quiet, giving her no obstacles or blockages, a passive witness to her furtive progress.

  Side lived in the home his father built, inherited it years before Chain came to Buckle. The building showed Side's father was a skilled craftsman, almost a waste in the Merchant Station: the roof was straight, correctly-angled and the brickwork was tight and neat after decades.

  The same couldn't be said for Aspect and Rose's homes: they were also inherited, but choosing whether to demolish or repair them must've been hard. Both had chosen to repair, and the rotting cement, swollen doors, and cracked window panes belied an incorrect decision. Any Artificer would weep to see them.

  But then, Artificers didn't care about towns like Buckle. Muster did not think Buckle important enough to hire a full-time Artificer, and so the people were stuck building their own homes. The Artificers forgave this encroachment mostly because, if they didn't, they'd have to step in and do the work cheaply. This was already happening in the slums of Outer Aureu, and Chain couldn't imagine they would enjoy being sent out to places like Buckle to perform similar work.

  Funny how the Stations accepted some encroachment...

  Chain used a small pencil to note that Aspect needed a posse of willing people to prevent her wall from collapsing. Rose could probably cope for another month or so with his damp problem, but needed his windows boarding at the very least. If possible, they needed to rehouse the families and start again.

  That duty disposed with, she went to Side's home. She found the Miner kneeling by the front wall. Clad in sleeping clothing, his broad chest was as on display as his frown of confusion.

  “Good morning, Side. Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Oh, Contegon Justicar,” Side said, standing suddenly. Realising what he wore, he blushed. “I was... I… I heard a scratching in the walls last night. I've checked inside and couldn't find rat holes or anything they could've gotten into the walls with, so I came out to look for somewhere else they could've used.”

  Chain pretended not to notice his discomfort. Instead, she asked, “Do you want some help?”

  “I wouldn't mind, no. I've almost done with this wall.”

  “Okay. You continue east. I'll follow the opposite direction.”

  Chain started looking for possible entry points. All she could see was good workmanship and solid brickwork. It seemed impossible for any vermin to have slipped between the exterior and interior walls. They met at the north-facing wall and finished their inspection together.

  “I see nothing,” Chain said.

  “Me either,” Side said, scratching the back of his head. “That's the damnedest thing. I heard scratching all night, a faint noise like tiny claws. I thought it had to be rats, but there wasn't anything in the roof or my room. And now there's nothing out here. I'm stumped.”

  Chain checked the building again. It had only one floor, a small but well-formed home for a young family, so there were few places a rat could hide. “Did you try under the floorboards?”

  Side opened his mouth to reply, then stopped and looked down. “No. That didn't even occur to me.” He laughed, tying his robe back up for no reason. “I guess the damn rat really ruined my sleep.”

  “Let's go inside and have a look, shall we?”

  Side's laugh died as he seemingly considered why Chain might be there for the first time. “Of course. I'd be glad of the help,” he said, perhaps a little too loudly.

  The Miner led her inside and closed the door behind her. “You're not here to be my mouser.”

  She shook her head. “I wanted to talk to you about the Mine again.”

  He sighed. “I really opened a mess up there, didn't I?”

  “I don't know. If you did, then you should be praised: Sol's light must shine in the darkest places. There will be a full investigation by Cleric Grain. She will want to speak to you about what you told me.”

  The blood evacuated his face, leaving him white and afraid underneath the layers of soot. “It wasn't just me who noticed we were doing so well, sire.”

  “You weren't my only source of concern, Side.”

  He relaxed a little. “As long as this doesn't all hinge on me. I can't be the only one to have told the truth: no one will ever trust me again.”

  “It doesn't. I promise.”

  Side breathed out slowly, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “After a panic like that, I need breakfast. Do you want something, Contegon?”

  Chain checked his hands: most Miners used the communal bathing facilities Muster provided, which were only available only on free days, so Miners were often filthy. Side’s hands were pristine. Even Miners had to clean their hands to prepare food.

  “I ate before I came here,” she lied, feeling that she shouldn't take food from a lower Station. “Feel free to make yourself something though.”

  “I will,” Side said.

  Chain followed him into the kitchen, a narrow slither of wooden surfaces and cupboards that Side could only just stand sideways in. He didn't seem to notice or care as he knelt to look through his cupboards.

  “So what will Cleric Grain ask me about?” Side asked.

  “The account you gave of how the Mine is performing, probably,” Chain said as she leant on the kitchen door's frame, “and how you came to the conclusion that you did.”

  Side stood, a cured sausage in one hand and a knife in the other. “Nothing major then?”

  “Not from your perspective.”

  “Good. I don't want to– Wait, do you hear that?”

  Chain listened, strained to hear, and picked up a light scratching sound from below them: a faint tickle, like metal stroking stone. She nodded, pointed downward.

  Side put the sausage down and knelt, his shoulders almost wedging between the cupboards. Tilting his head, a hand to his ear, he pointed to a spot halfway between them.

  Chain continued to listen and nodded: it came from where he pointed.

  “Damn it,” he whispered, “it looks like I have a rat problem.”

  “I guess you'll have to get some poison,” Chain whispered back.

  Side sighed, then stood up. “That's a shame. I hate hurting the poor things.”

  “You could just live with the scratching.”

  “No, I bloody couldn't!” Side exclaimed. He laughed. “Oops, I guess I'm going to be a bit short today.”

  “Lack of sleep can do that to–”

  A rapid series of clicks and scrapes travelled to one side of the kitchen, and then up the wall. It sounded like the rat was in the cupboard Side had picked his cured sausage from. She pointed to it, and Side nodded slowly. He knelt, held his knife ready to strike, and threw the cupboard door open. But he didn't stab at what he saw: instead, he screamed, scrambled away from the cupboard.

  “What's wrong?” Chain asked.

  A metallic blur leapt at him, landing on Side's shoulder. In the still, she saw it as a Disciple's vision of a spider, an eight-legged form about eight inches wide. Thin, metallic legs spread out from a central sphere covered in small, dark circles that looked like eyes. The tip of each leg was needle sharp.

  Side tried to throw the monster from his shoulder, but it dodged away, crawled onto his neck. He shrieked, ducking as though to get away from the monster. The spidery horror responded by scratching the back of his head, drawing blood.

  It achieved nothing more, as Chain slapped it away with the flat of her axe, striking with all her might. The monster took a slice of Side's skin with it. It landed on its back
, and seemed to struggle to right itself. Vicious, horrible legs writhed and twitched uselessly.

  “Get out of here,” Chain roared at Side.

  She sat on the surface, gave the Miner room to scrabble away. Side threw himself from the battle, but stopped at the kitchen door to watch. Chain would have told him to keep going, but the strange monster was using its blade-like legs to rock itself right-side up.

  Before it could do so, Chain slammed her axes into its exposed belly. Its composition was weaker than a Disciple, so her axes dented its stomach and two of its legs. Mechanical processes inside began to tick and whir. Half its legs fell dormant. Chain struck again and again. When its functioning legs stopped working, she kept going. Only when her axe finally pierced its hide, and she saw its workings ceased, did she stop.

  Her throat hoarse from grunting, Chain turned to Side. He was once more white beneath his soot, had almost shrunk into the corner of the kitchen, small and afraid. One hand was at the back of his neck, putting pressure on his wound.

  “What in Lun's name was that?” he asked, his voice tiny and distant.

  “That,” Chain said, “was a Disciple. And it attacked you.”

  “Why? Why? Why would a Disciple attack me?”

  Chain looked back at the mess that remained of the monster. “Why indeed. Go get a blanket or something: I need to collect those remains. Then we will take you to Marsh, see whether it did anything to you other than rip your flesh.”

  “Shit, do you think–”

  Chain interrupted. “I don't know. That's for a Doctor to decide. Get a blanket, then Marsh can determine your health. Okay?”

  Side went to follow her orders, leaving her with the Disciple's corpse. Chain watched as grease and a thin, green fluid leaked from its remains. All that she could think as she waited for Side to return was that she had blunted her axes... and she would surely need them sharp again soon.