Shadowplay

CELL 4

One ansit. The number glyph and the letter glyph were ornate, thick silver shapes inlaid with elaborate gold scrolling; the door Itself was steel veneered with purplewood, polished and waxed and shimmering like gemstone in the brilliant white light that kept the hallway clear of shadow. The lead Triad spread out, a Shawal facing each way along the hall, the third trying the keys on the lock. The second Triad trotted off toward the armory-they were were going to collect what they could carry and set the rest to blow once they were away. The child lay on a pallet at the foot of a wide bed, a blanket over her, a chain from her leg to the bedpost. Though the Shawanalotah came as quiet as shadows moving across a wall, she started from a troubled sleep and sucked in a breath, preparing to scream. A Shawal sprang at her, got a fistful of blanket across her mouth and held her as gently as he could, pressing down on her leg so she wouldn't rattle the chain.

Makwahkik was deeply asleep, but something must have reached him, because a faint snore broke in half and the springs creaked as he shifted position. The Shawanalotah rushed him, one caught him by the hair, jerked his head up, the other whipped the cord about his neck, pulled it tight.

Makwahkik clawed at the Shawal stranglers leather gauntlets until the second Shawal caught his wrists and forced his arms down. When Makwahkik went limp, the Shawal dropped his wrists and stepped back. He stood a moment looking down at the man responsible for the death and torment of so many of his kin. "Too easy. Too fuckin easy." He turned and trotted out.

The Shawal with the child eased the pressure on her, brought his head down close to hers. "Kayataki," he murmured, "Your mum sent us to get you. You'll be seeing her In a little while if you're quiet and good. She said you'd worry whether we were telling the truth, she said tell you remember Mohe-mohe the turtle and how he used to cry." He began easing the blanket off her face. "Don't be afraid now, we wear these things so people won't know who we are. You're a big enough girl to understand that."

She stared up at him unblinking, her body taut with rage, not fear, a rage his words did nothing to diminish. "Him," she whispered.

"He's dead."

The slight body relaxed suddenly, the child gulped and began to cry, silently, making no fuss about it, as if something inside her had chosen that moment to break.

He lifted her, held her close, patting her back and murmuring comforting syllables in her ears. The other Shawal tied off the cord, then came to the foot of the bed and began trying keys on the cuff around the girl's ankle. It fell away with a dull clank and the Shawal got to his feet. "Come on, you take his legs and let's get out of here. I don't trust those timers far as I can spit."

Ginbiryol Seyirshi watched as the Shawanalotah streamed from the lift, collected their kites, and liberated three flits from the Nish'mok's personal fleet. They went skimming off, flying low, almost brushing the rooftops, avoiding the areas where the kanaweh were ending their nightly scramble. He locked in the sequence where Makwahkik went tumbling toward the cold black water out near the mouth of the bay, a good distance from the moored freighters and government armships, then he turned his attention to the chaos and destruction as the bombs began going off and the Kasta started to burn, gloating at the pain-hate-fear his pathe-EYEs were sending up to him.