New Enemies

  Chapter 31

  When his bladder woke him, Slant reluctantly followed its insistent call: fleeing the Gangers had taxed him, and sleep hadn't helped. He would have given much to roll over in that strange string bed and drift away. But, whilst his bladder was damned insistent, his sense of duty was louder and more difficult to ignore. Heart was out there, tiring from his long turn watching the Zone, and Slant couldn’t abandon him.

  Slant creaked one eye open. The tiny Custodian room was daubed in an orange glow: Sol was rising once more. Groaning and twitching, Slant rolled out of the string hammock. He first relieved himself in the chamber pot in the corner of the room: it was almost full from Heart's use, a stinking swill that made him wretch, but there was room enough to add to the horror.

  Once relieved, he rinsed his hands in the watered-down wine. Stretching loosened his overworked muscles some. He hoped nothing exciting would happen today: a day of inactivity would allow his ailing form to recover. When he thought that, he chastised that lazy thinking.

  Feeling a little more capable, Slant checked that the alley wasn't being watched. The way was safe again. He left carefully, ensured the door was locked, then walked out into Aureu.

  Fortunately, the Gangers weren't still looking for him. With day approaching, perhaps they were preparing to earn their keep through whichever evil they inflicted. Still, he remained vigilant as he headed to the Zone: checked behind him, took random turns, listened for footsteps or creaking roof tiles.

  When near the Zone, he heard the two prostitutes again. This lane had no side streets: he would have to walk past them. Hands in pockets, head down, Slant kept going as though he didn't know them.

  “Look, he just wants someone else there when we do... what we do,” the short, gruff one said. “He doesn't want us to do anything with one another. He wants someone else to see and judge him.”

  “Don't like it. Don't like it. I don't want to judge anyone. Only Sol does that.”

  The gruff one scowled, her small face creasing in annoyance. “It'll be good money to just stand there and look like you're not enjoying yourself. You can do that, can't you?”

  Then they saw Slant. “Sir, would you like some company?” the tall waif asked him.

  “No, thank you,” Slant replied as he arrowed between them.

  “Are you sure? We offer a good price,” the gruff one insisted, blocking his path. “You look like you need a good time.”

  Slant looked around, worried this could be Ganger trap. “Look, I'm not interested, okay?”

  “What, because I'm a dwarf?”

  “Maybe he only likes other men?” the tall one offered.

  Slant seized upon the opportunity. “Yes, I do”

  “Are you, now? You like to choke on pole, huh?” the gruff one said, looking him up and down. “Well, that's a shame. Run on then, stop wasting our time.”

  She stepped aside and Slant moved on. The gruff one must have watched him go because she said, “Damn, that's a shame. I like a tough man.”

  “Tough men have usually done bad things,” the tall one said.

  “Exactly. That makes them experienced.” Then she turned, became quieter. “Anyway, come on, just come to this gig tonight will you? I'll give you more stuff than the Circles would buy?”

  “How much more?” the tall one asked after some consideration.

  Their conversation disappeared as Slant jogged away, pleased that he'd avoided suspicion. He didn't let joy slacken his concern, continued to check his way and listen for stalkers. Soon, he was at the Zone. Relaxing, he took his hands from his pockets, and something fell from his clothes: a scrap of material. Slant frowned at it, two brightly coloured materials sewed together by a skilled hand. A Merchant's label, a drawing of a quill and inkwell surrounded by Circles, was attached to it.

  Slant remembered, as he stood, that he'd pulled this from a Colours Ganger during the fight. They had all worn these clothes, hadn't they? Perhaps they all shopped at this Merchant's store? He scanned the street for threats, then pocketed the scrap and carried on to Heart's hiding place.

  “It's about time you got here,” Heart said when Slant climbed onto their chosen hideout. He must have seen the fatigue across Slant's face because he said, “Lun weeps, what happened?”

  “I was attacked by some Gangers.”

  “What?” Heart hissed.

  Slant explained what had happened. His fellow Custodian's scarred face fell as the story unfolded.

  “Damn it, that's fucking bad luck,” Heart hissed. Then he tutted. “We might need to leave now the Gang knows your face: can't put you at risk. Fuck.”

  “I'm not scared of them,” Slant said. “I'm not fucking scared of them. If they hadn't got the drop on me, surrounded me in a public place, I could have taken them on.”

  Heart shook his head. “This isn't just about you. If they know your face, they might learn mine, and that'll be both of us abandoning this placement. We've got to consider the main assignment above everything else, Slant. I'm sorry.”

  That he spoke with respect and empathy showed how important Heart found this. “What do I do now? Just go back to home base and ask for another mission?”

  “Well, this area has a definite Gang problem,” Heart said. “Did you get any names, or anything which might lead you to the Gangers?”

  “No, no names,” Slant said. “I only know where they buy their clothes.” Heart raised a gnarled eyebrow at Slant. He reached into his pocket and produced the Merchant's label. “They were all wearing the same clothes. I could find the Merchant who sold it to them, start there.”

  The old Custodian snatched the label from Slant. “You're certain that you took this from the Gangers?”

  “I've not been accosting random strangers and stealing their collars.”

  Heart treated him to a guttural laugh. Then he crumpled the label up and howled in laughter.

  “Hey, Heart, keep it in a box, will you? You're going to alert the Zone.”

  “I'm sorry,” Heart said, a strange smile sitting uncomfortably on his face, “I couldn't control myself. Because, Slant, you beauty, you've just confirmed our main suspect.”

  Slant said nothing, merely looked confused, waited for Heart to explain himself.

  “Remember that Merchant who drops off scraps of fabric and picks up bundles? That changed today. It's the end of the month, so someone came with the old fella this time, someone too podgy to be as Stationless as they dressed. She had a rucksack which was empty when they left.”

  “That was the Seed drop-off?” Slant asked.

  Heart nodded. “I followed the bastard out to her cart. Guess which Merchant's symbol was on it?” He didn't wait for Slant to reply, merely dangled the Merchant's label before him.

  “So, there's a connection?”

  “It seems more than coincidental, doesn't it? Wasp prefers we find evidence before we investigate someone Stationed. Well, I'd say this counts.” He paused. “You're certain every Ganger wore the same clothes as the guy you ripped this from?”

  “I'm certain,” Slant said. “Different colours, but the same style. Would a Gang dress any other way?”

  Heart nodded. Gangers dressed similarly to stand out from the Stationless. Slant supposed it was an idea taken from the Stations, dressing up to show that you belonged. It wouldn't usually be risky if the Gangers hung around in smaller groups, which made the attack on him all the more concerning.

  “I think they know something is wrong,” Slant said. “The Gang, I mean. They might realise what we're up to without knowing how close we are to the Zone. Why else would a bunch of them attack me like that? I'm not that ugly.”

  “No, you're not,” Heart said with a nod. “I'd reckon they might fear we're working against them in some way. They probably think we're from another Gang, looking into their territory for any weaknesses.”

  “What do we do, then?” Slant asked. “Presuming I'm not returning to Wasp.”

  Heart shook his head. “No,
you're not. We're done here. For now. After all, we've got a Merchant using Zoners for labour, another dropping suspicious items to the Zone, another selling goods to Gangs, and a Messenger spotted taking dodgy money. It doesn't look good for their boss, the one who connects them all with this symbol.” He looks at the scrap again. “There's only one place to go now.”

  “Buyer's Haven,” Slant said.

  “Aye. One of the warehouses or shops will have this symbol on,” he said. “We've got to go there, find them, and do some digging.”

  Slant grinned. “It feels like we're close to this Seed network.”

  “We're closer, not close. It could be that this Merchant and his underlings are just one part of the network.” Heart saw Slant's face drop, so he added, “Still, we might take off one of its fingers, and hand a cruel bastard over to the Contegons. Not that that's a guarantee of anything happening to the fucker, not with inter-Station politics.” Heart sighed. “Anyway, let's go pack up.”

  As Heart climbed from their vantage point, Slant watched the Zone. When they took down this Merchant, it would be interesting to see which new vein of the Seed network these Zoners tapped into. Perhaps they would scatter, find other Zones to get what they need. In a way, it felt sad to break up this 'home' of sorts.

  “Are you coming?” Heart hissed.

  “I am,” Slant said before climbing down, his elation at having found a clue, a lead, entirely punctured by the sadness of reality.