said.
Arrahaquen left the pair talking. Silently, she slipped into the hall and examined Zinina and Graaff-lin’s protectives, looking for signs of underground travel. But everything was muddy or washed off. She considered. What about boots? Carefully, she extracted one of Zinina’s distinctive thigh boots from its antiseptic bin and put her hand inside the cold, clammy thing until her armpit hit the top. Then she scraped her finger around the lining, scratching it. She withdrew her hand and, under the flame of a sea-fat candle, saw glittering fingers covered with flakes of golden plastic. So Zinina had been under the Citadel.
Much fell into place. No doubt this was where they had met Arvendyn. No doubt this was why the odd couple stayed together.
She returned to Zinina’s room. ‘I know the truth,’ she said. ‘Why did you two risk going under the Citadel?’
Zinina sat up. ‘Hoy, there’s not much escapes you, is there?’
This would be the perfect test, Arrahaquen thought. Now she could prove she was on their side by not reporting them. She replied, ‘No there isn’t. It was brave of you. Even I haven’t got access to those places.’
‘Who has, then?’ Graaff-lin asked.
‘Oh... Deese-lin and Spyne, the Portreeve. It’s difficult to say.’ When she saw their mystified faces she added, ‘Deese-lin and Spyne are on the Red Brigade. Did you meet Arvendyn down there?’
The pair looked at one another. Zinina shrugged.
‘Yes,’ Graaff-lin admitted. ‘In a service tunnel.’
Arrahaquen let out a whistle and sat back. ‘I didn’t know the tumulus was so hopelessly insecure. The place is like an upturned cullender. Everyone’s trying to weevil a way in.’
‘Can you blame them?’ Zinina remarked.
‘No,’ Arrahaquen conceded. ‘Now let me tell you something. Arvendyn has been watched for some time by Red Brigade spies in the temple. She’s been implicated in the search for the Silver Seed.’
Graaff-lin scoffed at this. ‘If it exists. It’s only a silly Gedeese Veert legend.’
‘You never know,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘In our position we can’t afford to think that narrowly. Obviously somebody in the Goddess’s temple thinks some thing is down there.’
‘A legend,’ Graaff-lin insisted.
In the silence that followed Arrahaquen pondered. Her intuition said that Zinina and Graaff-lin were trustworthy. She had the strange impression that the three of them had to work together.
She heard voices and footsteps in the street outside. ‘... it’s been breached, I ’eard. Highgate breached. ’Oo’d ’ave thought it’d come t’ that?’
Highgate breached. So at last the final wall of defence had been punctured. The north wall had been holed. She looked at the other two, and realised that they also had heard the news.
CHAPTER 7
One night, when Graaff-lin was asleep (and dreaming, judging by the whistles and snatches of erotic poetry that could be heard), Zinina explored the house in its entirety, cataloging in her mind all useful objects, means of escape, damp patches, fungal infections and other domestic niceties. She ended up in the loft. From here, she could see boats on the sea. People were leaving Kray by sea, of course, the idiots, because it seemed to them the only means of escape. Every week would see some new rumour of a land of sanctuary found across the ocean. But that was all nonsense. Anyhow, the sea was as dangerous as the land, with its giant turtles, fang-fish, and strangling kelp, not to mention the infected filth and bacteria. Every boat and ship ended up sliding into a luminous grave. Morning tides brought corpses to the shore, glowing softly like a line of nebulae at a vast galaxy’s edge.
She returned to the ground floor and for a moment opened the front door. She wanted to feel what it was like to be safe inside a house. And for a few seconds, as she caught the whiff of ammonia and the softer smell of methane, and saw lights from reveller encampments
Arrahaquen left the pair talking. Silently, she slipped into the hall and examined Zinina and Graaff-lin’s protectives, looking for signs of underground travel. But everything was muddy or washed off. She considered. What about boots? Carefully, she extracted one of Zinina’s distinctive thigh boots from its antiseptic bin and put her hand inside the cold, clammy thing until her armpit hit the top. Then she scraped her finger around the lining, scratching it. She withdrew her hand and, under the flame of a sea-fat candle, saw glittering fingers covered with flakes of golden plastic. So Zinina had been under the Citadel.
Much fell into place. No doubt this was where they had met Arvendyn. No doubt this was why the odd couple stayed together.
She returned to Zinina’s room. ‘I know the truth,’ she said. ‘Why did you two risk going under the Citadel?’
Zinina sat up. ‘Hoy, there’s not much escapes you, is there?’
This would be the perfect test, Arrahaquen thought. Now she could prove she was on their side by not reporting them. She replied, ‘No there isn’t. It was brave of you. Even I haven’t got access to those places.’
‘Who has, then?’ Graaff-lin asked.
‘Oh... Deese-lin and Spyne, the Portreeve. It’s difficult to say.’ When she saw their mystified faces she added, ‘Deese-lin and Spyne are on the Red Brigade. Did you meet Arvendyn down there?’
The pair looked at one another. Zinina shrugged.
‘Yes,’ Graaff-lin admitted. ‘In a service tunnel.’
Arrahaquen let out a whistle and sat back. ‘I didn’t know the tumulus was so hopelessly insecure. The place is like an upturned cullender. Everyone’s trying to weevil a way in.’
‘Can you blame them?’ Zinina remarked.
‘No,’ Arrahaquen conceded. ‘Now let me tell you something. Arvendyn has been watched for some time by Red Brigade spies in the temple. She’s been implicated in the search for the Silver Seed.’
Graaff-lin scoffed at this. ‘If it exists. It’s only a silly Gedeese Veert legend.’
‘You never know,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘In our position we can’t afford to think that narrowly. Obviously somebody in the Goddess’s temple thinks some thing is down there.’
‘A legend,’ Graaff-lin insisted.
In the silence that followed Arrahaquen pondered. Her intuition said that Zinina and Graaff-lin were trustworthy. She had the strange impression that the three of them had to work together.
She heard voices and footsteps in the street outside. ‘... it’s been breached, I ’eard. Highgate breached. ’Oo’d ’ave thought it’d come t’ that?’
Highgate breached. So at last the final wall of defence had been punctured. The north wall had been holed. She looked at the other two, and realised that they also had heard the news.
CHAPTER 7
One night, when Graaff-lin was asleep (and dreaming, judging by the whistles and snatches of erotic poetry that could be heard), Zinina explored the house in its entirety, cataloging in her mind all useful objects, means of escape, damp patches, fungal infections and other domestic niceties. She ended up in the loft. From here, she could see boats on the sea. People were leaving Kray by sea, of course, the idiots, because it seemed to them the only means of escape. Every week would see some new rumour of a land of sanctuary found across the ocean. But that was all nonsense. Anyhow, the sea was as dangerous as the land, with its giant turtles, fang-fish, and strangling kelp, not to mention the infected filth and bacteria. Every boat and ship ended up sliding into a luminous grave. Morning tides brought corpses to the shore, glowing softly like a line of nebulae at a vast galaxy’s edge.
She returned to the ground floor and for a moment opened the front door. She wanted to feel what it was like to be safe inside a house. And for a few seconds, as she caught the whiff of ammonia and the softer smell of methane, and saw lights from reveller encampments
Similar Books
