She clamps her hand over her mouth, trying to swallow down the rising bile, but her stomach heaves irrepressibly. She grabs Axel’s empty vault and vomits into it.
She slams the lid of the box shut and pushes it away from her. Sweat prickles her skin. She feels contaminated, unclean. It isn’t just the shock, or even the mounting sense of horror over what she has discovered. Worse than that, she can’t ignore the idea that some part of her already knew – or could have known, if she’d only thought to follow the signs.
And now she knows the truth she wishes she had stayed in the west, anonymous, that she had never met Dien, never got sucked into playing at revolution, because that’s what it feels like compared to this: a game.
She thinks of her grandfather, slowly ageing in a brocaded room, a glass of octopya clutched in his trembling fingers. She remembers the intensity in Leonid’s voice as he muttered something she did not, at the time, understand.
Nothing but the white fly.
And then he said something else.
Don’t be too quick to judge me.
He knew, she thinks. He knew I’d find out. Perhaps he knew Axel already had.
The contents of Axel’s vault could bring down the city’s entire infrastructure. The founding families. Adelaide’s family. Regardless of which individuals know what, all of the lines would be discredited. The elders would be stripped of their privileges, put on trial, perhaps even executed under Osirian law.
Her grandfather, who she loves, has signed off on these despicable acts. He’s lied to her. He’s lied to everyone.
Once again the nausea threatens to overcome her. She presses her hands to her mouth, swallowing.
And yet he’s so old now. So frail. She would be surprised if he lived out the year. Does he deserve this exposure, at this stage in his life? Even knowing what he has done, the idea of him being dragged from the Domain and drowned in an execution tank is repellent. Surely he must have believed he was acting out of necessity?
But if Whitefly is still in enforcement, then there must be others who condone it. Her father, Feodor, for certain. Linus? Does Linus know about Whitefly? Linus, who said quite clearly on the o’dio
we must expect the unexpected?
Linus knows.
The taste of bile lingers on her tongue and at the back of her throat. She is trapped in this room, trapped between the truth and the outside world. What in stars’ names is she supposed to do now?
And yet, at the very edge of her fear, barely in focus, there is something else. She felt it before, watching the expedition boat leave. She feels it now. Hope. That because of this – because of this terrible and terrifying truth – there might be something else out there.
There might be land. There might be people.
I wish you could have seen this, Vikram. I wish you could have known.
The minutes count down too quickly as she sits in the white-walled room, wondering what to do.
If she leaves the documents here, and remains silent, she is complicit in a conspiracy that affects every soul in the city.
If she takes them out of this room, the documents will be in Dien’s hands, for Dien to do whatever Dien thinks is right.
She knows the western woman won’t hesitate to use them.
Finally she takes Axel’s necklace and pulls it over her head, tucking the cord under her clothes. The shark tooth nestles against her sternum. Then she stuffs the Whitefly papers back into Mikkeli’s vault and calls the guard.
‘What the fuck took you so long?’
Dien is fraught with impatience – and something else too. The thirty minutes are long past, and Dien is frightened. She doesn’t like being this side of the border. As they hurry outside, Adelaide feels the same fear infecting her. The sleek beauty of the Osirian architecture rings too bright and false; the windows glint, malevolent, screening the players within. She fights to suppress a surge of paranoia.
‘Not here.’
They barely exchange a word for the
She slams the lid of the box shut and pushes it away from her. Sweat prickles her skin. She feels contaminated, unclean. It isn’t just the shock, or even the mounting sense of horror over what she has discovered. Worse than that, she can’t ignore the idea that some part of her already knew – or could have known, if she’d only thought to follow the signs.
And now she knows the truth she wishes she had stayed in the west, anonymous, that she had never met Dien, never got sucked into playing at revolution, because that’s what it feels like compared to this: a game.
She thinks of her grandfather, slowly ageing in a brocaded room, a glass of octopya clutched in his trembling fingers. She remembers the intensity in Leonid’s voice as he muttered something she did not, at the time, understand.
Nothing but the white fly.
And then he said something else.
Don’t be too quick to judge me.
He knew, she thinks. He knew I’d find out. Perhaps he knew Axel already had.
The contents of Axel’s vault could bring down the city’s entire infrastructure. The founding families. Adelaide’s family. Regardless of which individuals know what, all of the lines would be discredited. The elders would be stripped of their privileges, put on trial, perhaps even executed under Osirian law.
Her grandfather, who she loves, has signed off on these despicable acts. He’s lied to her. He’s lied to everyone.
Once again the nausea threatens to overcome her. She presses her hands to her mouth, swallowing.
And yet he’s so old now. So frail. She would be surprised if he lived out the year. Does he deserve this exposure, at this stage in his life? Even knowing what he has done, the idea of him being dragged from the Domain and drowned in an execution tank is repellent. Surely he must have believed he was acting out of necessity?
But if Whitefly is still in enforcement, then there must be others who condone it. Her father, Feodor, for certain. Linus? Does Linus know about Whitefly? Linus, who said quite clearly on the o’dio
we must expect the unexpected?
Linus knows.
The taste of bile lingers on her tongue and at the back of her throat. She is trapped in this room, trapped between the truth and the outside world. What in stars’ names is she supposed to do now?
And yet, at the very edge of her fear, barely in focus, there is something else. She felt it before, watching the expedition boat leave. She feels it now. Hope. That because of this – because of this terrible and terrifying truth – there might be something else out there.
There might be land. There might be people.
I wish you could have seen this, Vikram. I wish you could have known.
The minutes count down too quickly as she sits in the white-walled room, wondering what to do.
If she leaves the documents here, and remains silent, she is complicit in a conspiracy that affects every soul in the city.
If she takes them out of this room, the documents will be in Dien’s hands, for Dien to do whatever Dien thinks is right.
She knows the western woman won’t hesitate to use them.
Finally she takes Axel’s necklace and pulls it over her head, tucking the cord under her clothes. The shark tooth nestles against her sternum. Then she stuffs the Whitefly papers back into Mikkeli’s vault and calls the guard.
‘What the fuck took you so long?’
Dien is fraught with impatience – and something else too. The thirty minutes are long past, and Dien is frightened. She doesn’t like being this side of the border. As they hurry outside, Adelaide feels the same fear infecting her. The sleek beauty of the Osirian architecture rings too bright and false; the windows glint, malevolent, screening the players within. She fights to suppress a surge of paranoia.
‘Not here.’
They barely exchange a word for the
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