Angel Arias (2 page)

N
aif found Charlonge and Markes still out on the balcony staring at the hillside. The mist was thick, obscuring the graves.

‘What did Ruzalia say?’ asked Charlonge. The Church of Vank supervisor, whom Naif had thought so grown-up and confident when she first arrived on Ixion, wrung her hands anxiously.

She pines for my brother Joel. And he does not deserve it.

The notion filled Naif with another sort of pain. She’d gone to Ixion to seek out her beloved brother but when she had finally found him, something had changed between them.

She loved him still. Dearly. More than her life. But she’d learned things about him, and was no longer blind to his nature. Joel
wanted
the war against the Ripers. He wanted to fight with Dark Eve on the Lesser Paths of Ixion. Ixion had made Joel a hero, and he didn’t want to leave there.

‘She won’t listen to me,’ answered Naif. ‘So I think I should go anyway.’

‘How would you do that?’ asked Markes. A mantle of apprehension had replaced his dreamy musician’s manner.

Naif wanted to reassure him; erase his worry. Markes was the first boy to make her heart beat faster. Even though he had chosen Cal as his friend in Ixion, and had not been as brave as she wished at times, when he looked at her intently, as he did now, she could barely catch her breath for the longing in her heart.

‘I c-could take Ruzalia’s boat,’ said Naif. ‘She’s planning a raid tomorrow but the boat will be empty tonight while she inducts the newest arrivals.’

Her words sounded calm but inside she trembled at the idea.

‘If Ruzalia caught you, she might kill you for it,’ said Markes. ‘She’s unpredictable.’ He gazed out past the mountain to the sea. ‘And anyway, it’s open sea between Sanctus and Grave . . . do you even know how to steer?’

‘No. But you once told me that back in Grave you sailed on Lake Deep.’

His gaze alighted on her again and his forehead creased as he digested her meaning. ‘Even if I came and we made it back there, if the wardens found us, we’d be imprisoned. Maybe even tortured.’

‘Then we must not be caught.’

‘Where would you go? How would you find out about the Ripers and the Elders?’ asked Charlonge.

‘Not to my family. My father would turn me over to the wardens, and my mother . . . she would be too frightened to help.’ As she spoke, Naif had an overwhelming desire to see her mother. It was a hopeless wish, she knew, for her mother would shun her now.

A sharp Ixion memory pierced her consciousness – Lottie calling for her mama as she died in Naif’s arms. Lottie had burned brightly and paid the price of her recklessness. The poor girl’s fear of death without her mother at her side would haunt Naif forever.

But Naif would receive no comfort from her own mother. That must not be her reason for returning. She would go for all those condemned to die here on Sanctus. For Joel and Rollo and hopefully Suki still alive on Ixion. For dead Lottie. And for sweet Krista-belle who’d died before her eyes, her neck snapped by a Night Creature. And for Kero, Krista-belle’s boyfriend, who’d seen it too.

I’m sorry, Krista-belle.

Charlonge rose and moved to the end of the balcony near Markes. ‘I won’t go,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m more use if I stay here and help Ruzalia.’

‘How?’ asked Naif.

‘Ruzalia only has Mesree and her men. There are too few supervisors . . . and I’m good at that.’

Naif’s heart sank and she looked at Markes. ‘Will you come?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘I’m sorry, Naif. I-I’ll stay and help Char.’

Naif clenched her fists in frustration. If she had to, she’d go alone. But the thought terrified her.

The bell tolled, calling them to dinner.

Charlonge came back over and hugged her gently, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘Promise me you won’t do anything foolish, will you?’

Naif smiled.

But she didn’t answer.

T
he three of them entered the large eating hall in single file. At this time of the day, most of the young were working in the kitchens or eating in the dining room – except those on sentry duties.

Ruzalia did not like idle hands.

Naif glanced at the arched windows, which gave views of the cold blue sea beyond. La Galatea must have been so beautiful once. It still was, in a way, but the ceilings were mottled by age and the wooden trim on the frames and borders of the rooms no longer shone.

By asking others, and hunting through the tiny library attached to the old ballroom, Charlonge had learned that Ruzalia’s home had once been a resort for people of wealth and means.

Neither Naif nor Markes knew of the word ‘resort’ until Charlonge had explained it. According to the guest book, she said, visitors had come here from a place called Cheong. Charlonge had never heard of Cheong but Mesree told her that it was a city along part of a coastline that had sunk when the Golden Spiral formed. In the years since, with no occupants to pay and fill its coffers, the resort had decayed.

The idea of holidays was strange to Naif. Some Seals took breaks on farm-stays where they worked to purify themselves. And sometimes the Elders went on retreat. But that was to the mountains north of the city, a place where they could be closer to the Grave Gods.

‘Pissing cosies!’ A voice spat at them as they settled themselves at a table in the corner of the huge dining room. Naif glanced over at those who were giving them hostile stares. Some of the young on Sanctus weren’t grateful for Ruzalia’s rescue. They knew that they had only a limited time left and they seemed to swing between maudlin and angry.

In the last day or so, Naif had noticed that some acted particularly aggrieved, and had been watching Naif, Markes and Charlonge closely.

‘Why do they hate us so much?’ whispered Charlonge. ‘What have we done?’

‘They’re saying we’re being treated differently; given rooms on the south side, near Ruzalia’s apartments.’

‘Maybe we should ask to move to other rooms,’ said Charlonge.

Naif shrugged. In her mind it didn’t matter; she would not be there much longer.

‘In the laundry this morning, one of them pushed me against the boiler,’ Charlonge added.

Naif turned to her with alarm. ‘Char, why didn’t you say? Are you hurt?’

‘A burn,’ she said, sliding her dress up to show the bandage on her lower leg. ‘I went to the infirmary and Mesree put salve on it.’

Mesree was one of Ruzalia’s crew and the oldest person on the island apart from her husband, Long-Li. While Mesree presided over meals and tended injuries, Long-Li repaired Ruzalia’s equipment with the same jealous zeal with which he guarded the pirate woman’s safety.

One of the stories Naif had heard since coming to Sanctus claimed that Long-Li was Ruzalia’s father, Mesree her mother and the handful of pirates who sailed with her, her siblings. Naif didn’t believe those rumours, though she didn’t know why. Perhaps it seemed too easy an explanation. She sensed that their stories were more complicated.

‘Don’t go anywhere alone, Char,’ said Markes. ‘It’s not safe.’

‘Shhh!’ Charlonge warned.

The three fell silent as others joined them, slapping their metal plates on the table with no regard for the mess they made.

Naif detected a restlessness in the hall tonight that differed from the usual sombre mood. Neglected stew and dumplings simmered in the bain-marie at the back while the diners shifted between seats, talking in whispers.

Once she saw the glint of a home-made knife being slipped up into a sleeve. The sight made her stomach clench.

Was Ruzalia right to bring the young here? Or had she made matters worse? Many resented their chores and wanted to leave Sanctus. But leaving was not a simple matter. Where could they go?

Naif missed Suki keenly at that moment. Her Stra’ha’ine friend would have something smart and practical to say. She would’ve faced down the aggressive stares of the group near them with her hands on her hips.

‘Why are you in the south-side rooms?’ called out one of the staring boys.

He was dressed like all of them, in a plain and serviceable tunic and pants fashioned from cloth that Ruzalia had stolen from the merchant ships that skirted the Golden Spiral. Mesree sewed them all. There was none of the exotic silk and lace that the Ripers gave them on Ixion; just plain wools and cotton in faded dyes.

‘It’s where we were told to go,’ said Charlonge before Naif could reply.

‘Only Ruzalia’s people are on the south side,’ said another boy. ‘You must be hers.’

‘We’re all Ruzalia’s people,’ said Naif.

‘And what if we don’t want to be?’ the first chimed back in. ‘She forced us to come here.’

He was as big as Markes but heavier, with an ugly set around his eyes and jaw. He puffed his chest to add force to his words.

‘She saved you,’ said Charlonge. ‘If you’d stayed there you’d have been
withdrawn
.’

‘I’m thinking that might not have been so bad. Maybe those stories about turning into Night Creatures were lies. Maybe Ruzalia’s just a sick twisted cow.’

Naif pictured the church of Danksoi and the rows of young bodies being slowly subsumed so that Night Creatures could change.

She’d told Ruzalia what they’d seen as the airship transported them away from Ixion.

‘They’ve found a way to evolve through the blood and flesh of our young. It must be stopped!’
Ruzalia had said.

Ruzalia had planned to raze the churches and free all the runaways from Ixion. But what would happen to Lenoir if the pirate succeeded?

That brought back another rush of memories; the Night Creature Leyste’s attack and how close she’d come to being killed. Lenoir had saved her. She owed him her life. She owed him . . . ‘It was the truth,’ said Naif finally.

‘Yeah, that’s what
she
keeps saying. But that doesn’t prove nothin’.’

‘You have a problem, Rajka?’ said a booming voice.

Ruzalia was standing only a table away from them with Long-Li at her side.

The boy half-stood as if he might lunge at the pirate but Long-Li stepped forward. He lifted his long plait from his shoulder and wound it into a tight knot. Then he took a sharp bone from his pocket and slid it through the knot to keep it in place. Smiling, he pushed back his sleeves.

The boy’s friends grabbed his arms and pulled him back into his seat. He glowered at Ruzalia and Long-Li, but said no more.

Around them, the rest of the hall had fallen silent. Watching.

Ruzalia turned slowly on her heel, sweeping every last one of them with her gaze. ‘If anyone else would call me a liar then do so now.’

Several looked like they might speak, then changed their minds, staring down at the floor to disguise their thoughts.

The pirate nodded. ‘Then keep to your chores and enjoy your freedom.’

She turned to Naif. ‘Outside. Follow.’

With that she stalked from the hall.

Long-Li watched Naif with an expectant gleam in his eyes.

‘Do you want us to come?’ Charlonge whispered in her ear.

Naif looked at Long-Li. The old man shook his head ever so slightly.

‘No, Char. Stay close to Markes.’

She followed Long-Li between tables and out through the huge carved doors, conscious of her stiff shoulders and straight back. Lenoir might have saved her life and opened her mind to many things, but beneath still lurked some of her rigid Seal upbringing. With the weight of stares upon her she almost felt grateful for it.

Murmurs started up as soon as she left the hall.

Long-Li led her through the foyer and out onto the front steps. The vista from La Galatea’s entrance was inspiring; wind-blown palms and a cool blue harbour tipped white by the fresh winds.

Ruzalia leaned against a marble column that was pitted with age and flecked with dark moss. She was smoking a cheroot and allowing thin wisps of smoke to escape from the corner of her mouth. Her red hair appeared darker in the afternoon light; a deep colour like prayer wine.

‘I wish to speak to you of some things,’ said Ruzalia.

Naif’s heart tripped. ‘Me. Why?’

‘You are Clash’s sister, and have shown some . . . spirit. That counts for something. But I need the opinion of one with a head on their shoulders. Do you have that as well? Mesree tells me you do.’

‘I-I have opinions, if that’s what you want?’

‘Sound opinions, not shallow needs.’

They were both silent for a moment and then Ruzalia produced a drawing from her pocket and passed it across.

The sketch was inked and the colour had faded; the paper was creased from being folded many times. But none of these things hid the vibrant and beautiful young face it portrayed.

‘She’s lovely,’ said Naif involuntarily.

‘My sister. Lost to that dreaded place,’ said Ruzalia.

‘Your sister is on Ixion?’

‘She was. But some years have passed and I’ve not been able to locate her. It is possible she was one of those in Danksoi.’

Naif felt a moment of compassion for the pirate. ‘You’ve been searching for her. That’s why you raid the island.’

Ruzalia shifted her feet. ‘I’ve given up finding her. But I would not have them suffer her fate.’

‘Even though they are still destined to die?’

Ruzalia inhaled her cheroot deeply. ‘What do you think of my island?’

Naif wrapped her arms around herself and glanced back to the front door. Long-Li stood there; other than him there was no one in sight. Even so, she stepped closer to Ruzalia so she could lower her voice.

‘You want my truth?’

Ruzalia gave a curt nod.

‘It is a beautiful prison. They have little to do and no future. They’ll rebel against you.’

Ruzalia shot her a fierce look. ‘You think this place worse than what you saw in Danksoi? You think it worse than the hideousness of what your friends were about to become?’

Naif hesitated. Ruzalia was right. It was not like that.

But it wasn’t enough to just bring them here to die. She sensed the trouble brewing as surely as if the knife she’d seen was being held to her own throat.

‘There must be a way to reverse the badges. Then they should be taken somewhere else. What about the over-agers from the barge? Where are they?’

‘I left them at the Port of Patience on the far side of the Spiral. There are ways to make a living there.’

Port of Patience.
Naif had not heard of it. Even from Suki.

‘Then why bring the others here?’

‘It would not be right to let them go in such a place, not when they have only a short time to live.’

‘Surely that is more reason?’

‘They are safer here,’ said Ruzalia firmly.

Naif bit her lip in frustration. She began to frame her next argument but before she could continue, shouts rose from inside La Galatea.

Ruzalia glared at Long-Li, who disappeared along the corridor with extraordinary speed for his age. He returned before either of them had reached the front door.

‘Strife, ma’am,’ he said.

‘Serious?’

He nodded. ‘Enough.’

‘Call Jud and the Loboses from their watch, and get Plank from the beach. I want order in here NOW!’

The old man sped away on his task.

Ruzalia turned the full brunt of her glare upon Naif. ‘I do not like to be proved wrong. Don’t make a habit of it!’