The Ace of Skulls

Twenty-Four

Ashua stuffed her hands into her pockets and walked up the slope to join Malvery. He was sitting on a black crag, bundled up in a voluminous coat. Behind her, the Ketty Jay and Harkins’ Firecrow rested silently among stony hills. They’d left the sun behind in the south, and flown back into winter. An icy wind blew around them, whistling through the rocks.

She climbed up alongside Malvery and sat. He passed her a flask of coffee. She took a swig. It was fifty per cent sugar, and forty per cent alcohol.

‘Cap’n could’ve picked a better spot,’ he grumbled.

She had to agree. Before them the hills petered out into bleak moorland, scarred with dry stone walls and clusters of skeletal trees. The sky was overcast and grey. A few desultory sheep roamed the pastures, and here and there a grim cottage sent up a twist of smoke. There was a village in the far distance with a tiny landing pad.

‘In his defence, he is a bit of a mess,’ she said after a time.

‘That ain’t news,’ said Malvery. He sat back and rolled his shoulders. ‘Still glad you signed on?’

‘Don’t remember signing anything.’

‘You know what I mean.’

She looked into the distance. ‘It’s better than where I was,’ she said.

Malvery gave her a pat on the leg. She shuffled up closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He encircled her with his arm. They sat there for a long time like that, gazing out over the land.

She’d never known this comfort, never known male warmth without the expectation of something more. Maddeus, the closest thing she’d ever had to a father, hadn’t been a very tactile man. Affection embarrassed him. She’d been held by lovers, of course, but that wasn’t the same. Malvery reassured her, in a way she hadn’t known she needed. He was trusty and weighty and solid.

‘Is this crew gonna be alright?’ she asked. ‘Crake gone, and now Pinn. Are you sticking around?’

‘Reckon so,’ he said. ‘Depends on the Cap’n, though. Depends what he wants to do with what we found out.’

‘You want to tell the Coalition.’

‘Course I do.’

‘You reckon they’ll believe you?’

He let her go and looked at her in surprise, as if that was the first time he’d thought of that.

‘They think we’re traitors,’ she said. ‘We haven’t any proof. If you were them, what would you do? Launch an assault on the Barabac Delta on the word of a few random pirates? The Awakeners are dug in. Casualties would be huge.’ She pulled her coat tighter around her. ‘More likely they’d just hang us.’

The wind blew around them, mournful and ghostly. Malvery coughed. ‘What they do with the information ain’t my business. They gotta know. That’s all.’

She sighed. Her warning hadn’t penetrated. Malvery had faith in the system, that justice would be done and the truth would out. One way or another he was going to do the right thing. Even if it did no good. Even if it got him dead.

Malvery swigged his coffee. ‘This waiting ain’t solving anything,’ he said. ‘We need a plan.’

‘Give him a bit of time, huh? He just saw the woman he loves suffer a fate worse than death. Don’t tell me that wouldn’t knock you on your arse for a while.’

‘Bigger things than that bloody woman in the world,’ he said, but by his tone she could tell he was chastened and a little ashamed.

‘I’ll go check on him,’ she said. ‘See how he’s doing.’

Malvery just grunted.

She made her way back down to the Ketty Jay. Nearby, she could see Harkins in a hooded coat and heavy gloves, working on patching up his Firecrow. Lost in concentration, he didn’t notice her.

The reassurance she’d sought was already giving way to worry. She felt the crew unravelling, and what would happen to her then? She knew nobody in Vardia. Would she go back to Rabban, pick up the threads of her past, get back in the gangs? No, she was beyond that now, and likely a new generation would have already replaced those of her youth.

Back to Samarla, then? To Shasiith? Not a good option. She knew people there, but was still wanted by the authorities. She could go to Maddeus, if he was still alive, but that would be the worst thing she could do. A betrayal and a defeat all in one. He wanted her gone so she wouldn’t see him deteriorate, poisoned by the drugs in his blood. She wanted to prove that she didn’t need him.

Then there was the issue of the civil war. Now she knew there was the very real possibility that the Awakeners might win. And if they didn’t, there would inevitably be retribution against the Sammies for their part in it, and then all foreigners in the Free Trade Zone would be in deadly peril. So how best to handle this? Where to stand to avoid the fallout?

First thing to do was to talk to the Cap’n. He ought to know his crew. He ought to know what to do and say to keep Malvery on side. Because if the doctor left, there was no way Ashua was staying. Not with Jez and Harkins and Silo. She had no real affection for them.

And if Malvery walked, he might very well walk right into a noose.

She made her way through the craft to Frey’s quarters, one of several blank metal doors to either side of the passageway that ran along the Ketty Jay’s spine. She knocked, and was answered by a bored ‘Yeah?’ from inside.

‘Ashua,’ she said.

Frey slid the door open. He was dishevelled, his eyes weary. He looked her over. Either he hadn’t slept, or he was drunk, or both. Then he stepped out the way, inviting her in.

His quarters were grubby and poky. A sour smell of unwashed male hung in the air. A hammock bulging with luggage hung above an unmade bunk. Lying on the bunk was a creased handbill. At the top was the legend: WANTED FOR PIRACY AND MURDER. LARGE REWARD. Below it was a picture of Frey, young and smiling. It was obviously old, but Ashua wondered why he’d been looking at it at all. What kind of memories did it hold?

She walked past him into the dim metal room, and he closed the door behind her. When he turned back, he noticed the handbill as if for the first time, picked it up quickly and put it aside. ‘Wanna sit?’ he said, indicating the bunk.

She eyed his sheets. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘No.’

He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms. ‘What’s up?’

‘Just came to see if you’re okay, Cap’n,’ she said.

‘The doc send you to make a diagnosis?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Wondering if you needed something, that’s all.’

Frey cleared his throat and looked around the room as if surprised to find himself there. He was dazed and glassy-eyed. Definitely drunk, she thought, though she couldn’t see a bottle anywhere. She was beginning to wonder if it had been a good idea, coming here. Perhaps she’d been over-familiar. She should have left him to himself.

He reached over to a cabinet fixed to the wall and pulled open a drawer. It had a key in it, but it was unlocked. From within he drew out a small glass bottle full of liquid.

Ah. Now it made sense. She felt a slight sinking feeling in her belly.

‘Since when did you take Shine?’ she asked.

‘I like a drop now and then,’ he replied. ‘Haven’t touched it since Samarla, but now. .’ He gave a slow, clownish shrug and a stupid grin. ‘Who gives a shit, right?’

Ashua decided she’d had enough. She thought a bit of sympathy might help him out, even though sympathy was a rare weapon in her arsenal. But she knew that look. She’d seen it on Maddeus’ face, and the faces of the people he surrounded himself with. The placid, empty look of the chemical escapist.

The sight of him filled her with disgust. She hadn’t thought him so weak.

‘You know what? I think I’ll leave you to it,’ she said. ‘Excuse me.’

She moved for the door, but he put his arm across in front of her, barring her way. ‘Stay a while,’ he said. ‘Now you mention it, there is something I need.’

And then he had his arm around her waist, and he was leaning in to kiss her. She shoved him away with such force that he fell against the luggage hammock, which snapped under his weight. He fell onto his bunk amid an avalanche of suitcases. After a moment of surprise, he burst out laughing.

‘You’ve got some kick to you!’ he said.

‘Knock it off!’ she snapped at him. She swatted the bottle of Shine from his hand and it smashed on the floor. ‘And you can knock that shit off too! You already lost two of your crew. Pull your damn self together or you won’t have any left!’

She pulled open the door and stormed out. Frey was still laughing hysterically as she left.

She went down to the cargo hold, humiliated and boiling with fury. That arsehole! She always knew he had it in him, that sense of entitlement concerning the opposite sex, that need to obtain women. She’d seen it from the start. But she’d thought he had it under control. She’d come to believe he was better than that.

Should’ve trusted her instincts. People always disappointed her. It was just a matter of time.

There was nobody about in the hold. She burrowed into the blanketed niche between the pipes where she slept and let the fabric curtain close behind her. The pipes gave her no warmth: the Ketty Jay had cooled off quickly from her flight. She lay on her back and stewed for a while. Then she rolled over, dug between the pipes, and pulled out the object that Bargo Ocken had given her. A small brass cube with a press-stud on one face and a light on the other. Her signalling device.

If the crew fell apart, if it all went to shit, it wouldn’t be Ashua they hunted. She’d go free; she’d have the world before her. But she needed money, if she was to be thrown out in the cold. And with what she knew now, she could negotiate a bonus. A big bonus. Something that could set her up for a while, if she played her cards right.

A faint note of caution sounded in the back of her mind. The secrets they’d learned in the Awakener base were dangerous material. They had to be handled carefully. She remembered what had happened with Jakeley Screed. The spy game could be a deadly one, and every player took a risk.

They’d first approached her not long after Maddeus had kicked her out. Maybe it was just coincidence; maybe they knew she was in need. She’d never have agreed while she was still under his wing, but she was out on her own, and this was an opportunity.

His name had been Dager Toyle. He was a Vard in the Free Trade Zone, a charismatic man in middle age, with the kind of manner that made everyone want to be on his side. He came to Ashua with an offer.

We need your eyes and ears, he said. Anything you can tell us. Titbits. Everything helps, and the better you do, the more we’ll pay you.

It sounded like a win-win situation for Ashua. Sounded like money for old rope. Little did she know.

And so she began to spy on the Samarlans on the Thacians’ behalf.

At first she was lazy about it. She knew the underground, and there were always rumours. Toyle was interested in anything. The Thacians, long-time enemies of the Samarlans, would be arrested on sight in the Free Trade Zone or anywhere else in Samarla. They had to keep an eye on their aggressive neighbours somehow. Ashua imagined they had dozens, hundreds of people like her in Shasiith, feeding them scraps.

But the money wasn’t much, and Ashua wanted more. Motivated, she tried harder. She made friends with the untouchables, the lowest caste of Samarlan society, who were so insignificant to other Samarlans they were practically invisible. And invisible people made good spies. Soon Ashua was regularly providing Toyle with good information, and her pay increased accordingly.

Eventually the good times ended. Eventually, Jakeley Screed turned up.

She first heard it through another spy in Toyle’s network. He made contact with her, warned her that Toyle was dead and all his agents compromised. Ashua had warily agreed to a meeting, but he never arrived. She tracked him down, found him dead in his apartment. Frightened, she went into hiding, and while there she learned that the Sammies had employed a Vard spyhunter named Jakeley Screed. He was killing all of Toyle’s agents. It was only a matter of time before he got to her.

But Frey got to her first.

In the end, it was through her connections in the untouchables that she heard about the shipment which contained the Iron Jackal. She needed the money to hire protection or to escape, she wasn’t sure which. So she started gathering men for the job, but somehow a whispermonger found out and sold the news to Trinica Dracken. She sent Frey to find Ashua, which led her here. Strange how things worked out.

Her finger hovered over the press-stud. She’d only ever dealt in small-scale secrets before. The news about the Awakeners was enormous. Big enough to topple governments, start wars, save or destroy hundreds of thousands of lives. She was afraid to let it loose.

But it was like Malvery said. What they do with the information ain’t my business.

She began to tap, and with each touch the light on the side of the cube flashed. When she stopped, it began to flash back.

So the negotiations began.

Slag had found a thing.

He found it in the vents, behind one of the grilles that led out into the big world where the big creatures lived. How it got there, he didn’t know. It hadn’t been there before.

He’d sensed it from some distance away, on his journey up from the depths where the rats scuttled and scampered. Like a discordant sound just on the edge of his hearing, unpleasant and nagging. Now he’d located it, the sensation was stronger. It was out of place, in some deep, instinctive way that he didn’t understand. And it needed investigating.

He padded closer. The corpse of a rat dangled from his jaws. It was a feeble specimen, but quick, and it had given him more trouble than it should. Once, he’d have pinned it and broken its neck before it knew what was happening. But he’d been slow, his aching muscles responding a fraction too late, and he’d missed his pounce. Catching it had worn him out, and he still hadn’t fully recovered. Where was his energy?

Every day he slept longer, moved more stiffly. Every day his strength diminished. He’d held off the depredations of age for a very long time, but he couldn’t hold them off for ever. Time was taking its toll, and the price was the heavier for avoiding it.

But this wasn’t the day. Not today. Today, he could still fight, and run, and kill. Today, he was a warrior, as he had been every day since kittenhood.

He dropped the rat to the floor of the vent, padded forward and sniffed at the curious object. It was a large grey metal casket. There were decorative grooves and etchings on its surface, but it was firmly closed. Slag had no idea of its purpose, but he understood that this object was only a container, and that whatever interested him was inside. He circled it warily, but after a thorough inspection, he was none the wiser as to how to get inside.

A sound. In the gloom further down the vent, he saw the glitter of eyes. She was there, also drawn by the thing. She crouched at the sight of him, unsure whether to run or stay. Her eyes went to the dead rat lying on the floor between them. Calculating whether she could snatch it before he got to her.

He moved towards her slowly, eyes narrowed: a sign of peace, a sign he meant her no harm. She backed off, confused, ready to bolt. He paused, let her relax, then moved forward again and gently picked up the rat in his jaws. Still she hovered, wavering on the edge of flight. She was hungry. She had the smell of it. A cat from outside, from beneath the sky, who didn’t know the ways of the iron warrens.

He approached, moving closer still. She jerked back, halfway to fleeing; but she didn’t. He saw the fear in her. One more step and he’d lose her.

He lowered his head and laid the rat on the floor. An offering. Then he retreated, backing away down the vent. He sat back on his haunches and watched her carefully.

She sniffed at the rat. Took an exploratory step forward. Then, with a lunge, she snatched it up in her jaws and flurried away down the vent in a scrabble of claws.

The scent of her lingered in the air after she was gone. Slag gazed down the empty shaft.

No, this wasn’t the day. But soon.

Jez awoke in her bunk, alone.

Again, the loss. But this time it was so much sharper, so much deeper. There was no disorientation, no need to collect her thoughts. She remembered everything that had happened in the Awakener base. She’d chewed it over in the dark places of her unconscious. And she knew. Pelaru was a half-Mane; now she understood everything.

She’d been tricked. Tricked by her feelings. She thought she’d fallen in love. At last, after a lifetime, she’d fallen in love.

But it wasn’t love. Not in that way. It was something she’d brushed against in other times, something she’d yearned for but never dared to seize. The love of the Manes, the sense of connection, of integration, of truly knowing another being and being accepted by them. A companionship more intimate than any she’d felt as a human.

No matter which way she turned, the Manes were there. Once she’d feared to become one. Later she thought she could exist as a human, with her Mane side held in abeyance. Later still she decided to explore it, drawn by the promise it held. Meeting Pelaru had been a reminder of what she’d give up if she left her humanity behind, the last moment when she might turn aside from her path.

But she’d been fooling herself. She’d struggled and fought and agonised over the years, but since the day she was given the Invitation, her course had been decided.

How could her heart possibly hurt this much? It was only a muscle, and it didn’t even work.

She got up. She was muddy and blood-spattered and stank. It didn’t matter any more. Manes didn’t care for outer beauty.

Once, she’d been a human cursed with being a Mane. Somewhere along the line, she’d become a Mane playing at being human.

She slid open the door to her quarters. There was nobody out in the corridor. She could hear them all over the Ketty Jay, and some of them outside. She caught snatches of their thoughts. Ashua was angry about something. The Cap’n was embarrassed and befuddled. The only one she couldn’t sense was Pelaru. But then, she’d never been able to hear his thoughts.

She walked down the corridor to Crake’s quarters, where they’d put their Thacian passenger. She could hear his heartbeat inside. It was quickening: he was aware of her. She knocked on the door, and he opened it.

Even knowing what she knew, it didn’t make a difference. The sight of him filled her. She’d thought it was his face that attracted her, his noble Thacian features, firm and beautiful like a hero from some ancient legend. But it wasn’t that. It was the kinship of daemons.

‘So you know,’ he said. He seemed sunken and diminished somehow.

‘Yes.’

He stepped aside, and she went in.

Crake’s quarters were more cluttered than hers, which had almost nothing in them at all. The upper bunk was a bookshelf, with tomes of daemonism secured in place with a cargo belt. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, acutely aware of her proximity to Pelaru. Then she sat down on the bunk, and Pelaru closed the door and sat down beside her.

‘How did it happen?’ she asked him.

‘I was in Yortland,’ he said. ‘It was in the early days, when I was making connections, when I had to go and meet people face to face. I had a meeting on a prothane rig off the north coast. It was my bad fortune that the mists came while I was there.’

‘But they didn’t take you.’

‘I refused them.’

She watched him keenly. No, he wasn’t lying. ‘You refused the Invitation?’

‘As did you,’ he pointed out.

‘Only because the Mane was interrupted. If it hadn’t been. .’ Her eyes were far away. ‘I doubt I could have resisted.’

A sour expression passed over his face. ‘I couldn’t resist them entirely. I’m still. . infected.’

She was surprised at his tone. ‘You hate what they’ve done to you.’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘And I hate them.’

‘But you loved Osger.’

‘But it wasn’t love!’ he cried. ‘I thought it was, but then I met you, and I felt exactly the same! Don’t you understand? I thought I loved him, but they cheated me!’

Jez’s head was hung. Straggles of hair had escaped her hairband and fallen across her face. ‘Oh, I understand perfectly,’ she said.

‘And yet. .’ Pelaru seemed to be struggling with his words now. ‘I know it’s not real, but I still feel it!’

‘It is real,’ said Jez quietly. ‘It’s just not what we thought it was.’

Pelaru’s fists tightened, but he said nothing.

‘How is it that you can make me blind to you?’ Jez asked. ‘I can’t sense your mind the way I can with others.’

‘I don’t know how I do it. It’s different for everyone, I think,’ Pelaru said. ‘Every half-Mane is not the same. Osger couldn’t control it. He changed at the slightest provocation. I saw him slipping away from me, becoming more like them. He liked it.’

‘And you didn’t.’

‘I won’t give them that. I won’t give them an inch. They won’t have me.’ His hands were trembling. ‘But some things. . some things I can’t fight. And then the change will come.’

‘Imperators.’

‘There were two of them,’ he whispered. It was almost an apology.

There was silence then, and she thought how strange it was to love the Manes and hate them at the same time.

‘We’re infected,’ he said. ‘It’s a disease. Every day you have to fight it. Every day. Or it will take you.’

She stirred and raised her head. ‘What if you want to be taken?’

‘Don’t say that!’ He burst to his feet, sweeping an arm out angrily as if to dash her words away. ‘Osger would say that! Look at me! Do I fall into a coma after I change? Do I become wild and savage and lose my mind? No! Because I won’t submit to them, not even a little. Because I have it under control!’

Do you? she thought. Is that even possible?

He turned to her, an eager look on his face, and behind it something faintly desperate. ‘Maybe I could show you. I could teach you how to suppress it so nobody even notices you’re a half-Mane. I’ve seen how the others treat you. They flinch away; they can’t help themselves. You’ve lost control, that’s all! I could help you get it back!’

For the first time she saw him, unclouded by thoughts of love. She felt something unfamiliar then. Pity. Pity for this poor, pathetic creature who denied what he was. So what if he’d been made this way against his will? It was done. You could only deny your nature for so long.

‘I don’t want to control it,’ she said.

She met his eyes, and saw the shock there. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. But she’d never been more sure of anything. She got up, and walked past him, and went out of the room.

The last promise that humanity had offered her had turned out to be a lie. This was not a human love, but the love of the Manes for one another. Out there were her kin, ever waiting, ever faithful. They wanted her to join them. And she couldn’t think of a single reason to resist them any longer.