The Fade

9

The rain is unending here. Sometimes it falls in a fine mist, sometimes a lashing spray, but it never stops. The lakes that sprawl across the enormous cavern – one of dozens that comprise the Rainlands of Eskara – are constantly evaporating with the heat of the magma flows below. The steam rises, condenses on the cooler cavern roof hundreds of spans above, and then returns to the lakes in droplets. Phosphor trees nod in the haze: tall, branched lichen formations with heavy globes of light hanging from their branches, casting a pale illumination throughout the cavern.

I sit in the doorway of the boxcar, one leg dangling off the edge, watching the world speed past me. The blood-warm rain soaks me, and I let it. The rapid clacking of the tracks has become a metronome, counting time away. I'm going to Veya. I'm going to see Ledo.

Nereith sits in the shadows, out of the rain. But for a few crates of documents and some damaged but salvageable weaponry, we have the space to ourselves. They even provided some mildewed bedrolls. Other carriages are full of wounded, on their way back from the front, but there weren't enough to fill the train. I'm not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing. At least the wounded are still alive.

I can see a village in the distance. It's an island of light in the rain-mist, an uneven heap of hanging lanterns amid the lakes. It lies mainly around the base of an enormous, gnarled mycora root, which bursts from the ground and bends upward to the sky. Most of the dwellings are built from huge seed pods. They stand upright on stilts, windows lit brightly and smoke wisping from their tapered tips. Others, like the communal longhouse, are stone or treated wood. Still others cling to the lichen trees or the flanks of the root. The whole village seems to have been grown rather than constructed.

'Sankla,' Nereith says idly. It takes me a moment to realise he's identifying the village. 'Not too far now. Another turn or so.'

I stir from my reverie, glance at him despondently.

'Be patient,' he says. 'If you do this, you have to do it right. Ledo should be in a good mood, at least. You have that on your side.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Clan Caracassa has been steadily losing out on business for a while now,' he says. 'Couple of other clans have set themselves up as competitors in the medical supplies trade, and they seem to be doing it better than Caracassa.'

I know that; it's my job to know. I don't see where he's going with it, though.

'Those suppliers don't have the output capacity that Caracassa does; they're not so well established. This big military push that's coming up, Caracassa will do very well out of it, I should think. Their competitors won't be able to meet the demand, but Ledo will. I should think it'll pull his fat out of the fire, so to speak.'

'How do you know about the offensive?'

He gives me a look. He's certainly not wasted any time getting back in the game.

'He can spare one officer, I'm sure,' Nereith says, knitting his fingers behind his skull and leaning back against the wall of the boxcar. 'Question is, will he? After all, Jai is a Bondsman. He's been trained for war at Clan Caracassa's expense. He chose his path and you approved it. Why should Ledo listen when you tell him that it was a mistake?'

'He's a gifted engineer and an inventor. He'd be better serving Caracassa that way.'

'Away from the front line.'

'Yes, away from the front line!' I reply sharply. He's needling me and I'm rising to it. I can't help it. I'm too raw right now.

'You think Liss and Casta will help you out again?'

I can't believe my ears. Is there anything this Khaadu doesn't know?

He shows me his fangs. A Khaadu grin. 'I work for Silverfish,' he says. 'I didn't just walk off the street and get the job, Orna. I got it because I earned it.'

I let my questions drop. 'I can't be certain of anything with those two. Nor with Ledo.'

'So what if he says no?'

'I'll find a way!' My tone is getting more irate.

'If you'll permit the observation of an uninvolved bystander,' Nereith says, stretching lazily, 'the fact that you're getting angry suggests you're afraid to have your plan called into question. And that suggests that you haven't thought about it very hard.'

'Voids, Nereith! I've thought about nothing but the plan since Farakza.'

'No,' he says. 'You've thought about saving your son. You've thought about the end but not how you're going to get there. You're papering over the cracks with blind hope, and that – forgive me for saying – is beneath you. You're not being rational.'

I pull myself up, out of the rain. Sodden, I stalk to one end of the carriage, slick my hair back from my face, furious. Trying to think of a comeback that will beat him. Thing is, there isn't one. He's got me pegged.

'This is all I've got,' I say at last. 'This is what got me out of Farakza. This is what kept me running when I might have given up. It's what got me through the Shadow Death.' I slump against the side of the carriage, knees drawn up to my chest. 'He's my son, and I'm his mother. Of course I'm not being rational.'

Nereith is silent for a time. Then: 'Do you think he'll thank you?'

'I don't know. I know he doesn't want to be there. I know if he's back in Veya he could be near Reitha again.'

'You do realise he could be dead already?'

'Yes,' I say through gritted teeth. 'I do realise that. And until I find out for sure, I won't stop looking.'

Nereith considers me a while. 'Would you really defy your master to get your son back? You, a Bondswoman?'

He doesn't need a reply. It's in my eyes. Nereith just watches me, weighing me with his gaze. I get the sense that I've just been evaluated.

'My offer still stands,' he says. 'When all else fails, come to me. Silverfish can help you.'

'For a price.'

'Naturally.'

It's tempting. But I really don't want to get tangled with Silverfish. Not until there are no options left. Abyss knows where that would lead.

'I'll keep it in mind.'

Away from the village, the dark gathers in. Distant clusters of phosphor trees draw the wildlife like oases in a desert; luminescent lichens float in pools, entangling and consuming the fish that are drawn to them. Predators hide in the undergrowth, waving glowing stalks above their mouths, enticing curious victims. In a world of eternal dark, the best way to attract prey is to offer light.

We're following a river which churns and spatters alongside the tracks, beneath the slow sparkle of glowfly swarms. Bats flit this way and that, snatching the insects from the air. Dark, heavy shapes lurk in the water, bright eyes peeping out.

'I have a question for you,' I say, out of nowhere. 'Belek Aspa. Ever heard that name?'

No hesitation from the Khaadu. 'He's a Gurta Minister. Right up there with the High Elder himself. Smart politician, by all accounts. Why?'

'Just had the name rattling around my head. Couldn't think who he was.'

'Right,' says Nereith, suspicious. But he doesn't pursue it any further.

A Gurta Minister? That was the name the Magister used during my last interrogation in Farakza. Asking me if I'd ever heard it mentioned by Ledo.

I don't like what that implies.