Deborah Hockney (19 page)

Try as he might to resist it, David’s gaze kept returning to Bella and he allowed himself to take in every detail about her. Her lilac eyes, framed with long lashes that seemed to reach to her eyebrows where dancing lights highlighted her smooth brow. His eyes were distracted by the multicoloured ribbons in her hair and he had a flickering memory of connecting to those lights at his so called interrogation. It had felt so relaxed: he wondered why the others seemed so distraught by theirs.

He was tempted to remove his glasses to study this girl more closely but thought better of it as Murf entered the room and growled at them all.

‘Get a move on you lot, no more fannying around with grub. Time to shift.’

Bella looked bemused by this sudden interruption to her pleasant tea party but made no comment as Murf proceeded to hustle each of them towards the entrance.

‘And no point trying to make a run for it,’ he remarked. ‘We’ve got you right where we want you!’

Jocasta caught sight of Mex rolling her eyes at this last comment.

Chapter Seventeen

This time the room they were taken to was circular, and spacious, with a high, arching roof, and heavy, dusty red drapes that hung straight from the rafters to the bare floor. In the gaps between the curtains rough stonework and metal beams could be glimpsed, the
foundations of the way the entire city had been constructed. Though the room’s floor space was not actually that large, it had a sense of importance, a kind of tainted or aged place of majesty and community. Two rows of seats swept around the central space, most of them occupied by the strange looking people, but those that were empty showed thinning upholstery in red and black fabric; tears and rips revealing age-old padding. In the central area, four lecterns stood, each equally spaced apart, giving the twisted impression of a religious community. There was a flat disk of metal in the very centre of the room, which drew the eye, a flat black circle which reflected none of the dull light; stark against the dusty floor.

The room was dimly lit with makeshift lanterns that swung slightly when the curtains brushed against them. They, like everything else in the city, were old and repaired, the metal framework holding together the scratched glass squares, the light inside occasionally guttering. And high to the right a grey plaque hewn from the rough stone bore an unlikely inscription.

It was a place that might have been grand and full of splendour, but had been made out of discarded things, by a people who were entirely unwanted themselves.

It emanated a sense of woe and sadness.

Murf told them to sit, indicating the four small seats which had been hastily positioned at the right hand side of the room. Then he stood behind them, arms crossed and feet apart, his teeth glinting in the strange light.

Jocasta’s eyes searched expectantly for the tall figure of Delilah, but couldn’t see her in the seated rows. There was an eerie silence in the room. No one was speaking, it was almost as though they were all meditating with eyes closed or staring blankly ahead.

With a rush of chill air brushing their faces, a column rose from the central disk in the floor, its dull metal exterior glinting in places where it had been welded and forced into shape. Jocasta watched as it eventually came to a halt, feeling strangely threatened by its overpowering presence, its subtle menace.

Still no sound could be heard from the assembled group, as quiet footsteps approached on the cold stone floor. From the shadows directly behind the column, a figure appeared. The lamplight glittered on the tightly braided threads that were twisted into Delilah’s hair. There was a disconcerting grate of boot on metal grid as she stepped up to the podium. She turned slowly full circle, taking in all the attendees, including the four prisoners at the edge.

‘Rather dramatic,’ Will whispered towards Ed, whose purple eyes had taken on a worried look, his eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown.

‘I don’t like this at all.’ He spoke quietly from the side of his mouth. ‘I think we’ve had enough drama for one day.’

Murf took the opportunity to clip him round the back of his head and issued a warning growl.

Will turned, a ‘try-that-on-me-and-you’re-dead’ look already forming on his face, then seemed to think better of it, and returned his attention to Delilah, who had begun to speak.

‘As you know, we have some…
guests
, who have joined us today on an unexpected visit. In fact, this is only the second time, in our history, that we have had the pleasure,’ she emphasised the word with a touch of sarcasm, ‘of any outsiders to our gathering. This,’ she moved her arm wide in an arc to take in the whole of the assembled, and looked directly at Will and the three Elite cadets, ‘is where we make our decisions. As a democracy we each have one vote. I, as the leader – until the next Sol year, of course – have the casting vote if agreement cannot be reached.’

Jocasta wondered why Delilah was explaining this to them, as ‘uninvited guests’ and then it dawned on her that this was where their fate would be decided. Perhaps foolishly, she had thought they would be allowed to leave once their true reason had been revealed, and no threat had been intended. Now she realised how naïve she had been.

The loop of panic began again.

Please just let us get out of here alive.

But her thoughts were pushed to one side as Delilah continued.

‘Friends, comrades and uninvited guests we have a dilemma on our hands. Here in this city, our enforced home, we have struggled to survive; while those who have banished us here have thrived and grown stronger. We have lost our freedom. Some have lost their dignity and ultimately their lives.’ Here she indicated the worn seats that remained unoccupied. ‘Our only future is one of meagre hand outs and bleak solitude. Until now we saw no escape. We had nothing to bargain with. But if we take this opportunity that has arisen –through no action of ours– can we remain honourable to our oath?’ Here she indicated the plaque on the wall and raised her voice to proclaim its message. ‘NOBLE AND BRAVE IN LIFE AND IN TRUTH.’

‘Noble And Brave,’ echoed the crowd, ‘In Life And in Truth.’

‘Nabilat, Nabilat, Nabilat,’ they chanted.

Delilah raised her arm and there was silence.

‘Nabilats,’ she called. ‘Let the session begin!’

‘Session.’ Jocasta heard herself speak as if listening to someone else. ‘Seems more like a trial to me.’

No-one responded.

One by one they were each led to one of the four lecterns. First Will was pulled roughly to his feet by a burly Nabilat whose dispassionate face betrayed no emotion. Will tried to wrench his arm free, but was held fast, and steered resolutely towards the furthest lectern.

Ed was next, his head bowed, masking his lilac-purple eyes. Jocasta could tell by his demeanour, as she suspected everyone else could, that he felt demoralised and perhaps, like her, frightened.

As the Nabilat turned away from Ed, Jocasta rose from her chair and met his gaze defiantly. She strode towards one of the empty lecterns; her head held high, as she tried to ignore the mounting panic that was welling from her stomach and felt as if it were creeping up her throat. No attempt was made to stop her, so she carried on till she reached the lectern’s platform and took the small step up.

She clutched the edges of the podium, her small show of defiance having robbed her of any strength she had left. She felt weak and shivery, even as she leant on the lectern her hands were shaking and deathly cold.

David, left till last, obediently took the few steps forward to his allotted space and carefully readjusted his glasses.

The murmur of voices gradually hushed as Delilah once again began to speak.

It was difficult at first to fully understand what she was implying, as Jocasta had no idea of the procedures involved. The syllables of her voice had a melodic rise and fall that was unfamiliar to Jocasta, and for a moment she found herself listening to the sound of Delilah’s words rather than their meaning. But then with startling clarity she realised what was being proposed. She and David were to be sent back with a message that Ed and Will were to remain hostage.

The Nabilats had discovered that Ed was the son of Weisz the Elite officer who had originally banished them to this doomed city. Will was being heralded as a hero for delivering Ed to them. Delilah called for a show of hands for all those who agreed with her proposal. It was almost unanimous.

Murf and another man were instructed to take Ed away. Head bowed in acceptance he neither looked to his left or right but followed Murf submissively, accompanied by the sound of Nabilats stamping their feet and a few shouts of approval. Jocasta felt mesmerised, as apparently so did David and Will, as neither of them moved or uttered a sound.

Jocasta’s heart set up in a rapid staccato, like a panicked bird flailing its wings useless against the bars of its cage. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing shallow; she felt as though her whole world was just slipping out of reach; falling away from under her and there was no way to stop it.

She gripped the edges of the lectern so hard that she could feel the unrelenting metal biting into her flesh; the knuckles of her hands, already slightly blue with cold, were bone white, and a pounding, crying, swarming of fear and desperation filled her head like a buzzing.

What could she do?
What could she do?

She could refuse. Make them keep her here instead of Ed or Will. But what would that accomplish?

She didn’t want to admit it, but there was a small part of her that felt shame in the fact that she was the one being sent back to the Elite.

What could she do?

Finally, she found her voice and, despite the nervous tremor, reached down into the recesses of her lungs and shouted as loud as she could.

‘No, you can’t! It isn’t right…’ Her voice trailed off as Ed turned to look at her, his purple eyes not filled with the look of bewilderment or fear that she had anticipated, but something far worse, it was a wounded look, as though it had been her fault. As though she had betrayed him.

Then with a horrible sense of dismay, she understood that of course, she had. She’d been the one who had led him here, introduced Will; allowed him to come.

New thoughts rushed unbidden into her mind. Was she responsible? Did Will have an ulterior motive? Had they found out something through the interrogation? Was there more to Will’s story than he was letting on?

Then she became aware of David’s voice, reading from the inscription on the wall, his words quiet but not unclear, yet undeniably mocking.

‘Noble and brave? In life and in truth?’ He looked from Will to Jocasta, and then at the empty lectern where Ed had been standing. David turned back to Delilah, with a look of righteous indignation. ‘Not from where I’m standing.’

Delilah, who had heard every word, turned slowly to face David, her eyes dark with rage. Like a door closing, all sounds shut off. Very calmly, and with great deliberation, she stepped towards David, drew back her hand and slapped him, hard, across the face. The force of the blow sent his glasses skittering to the ground.

As David stooped to retrieve his glasses, one side of his face an angry red, Will forced the lectern to one side and rushed towards Delilah. But before he was even halfway across the space, a dozen Nabilat hands were grabbing at him, restraining him, while his arms and legs flailed hopelessly: and around him the Gathering Room erupted in angry shouts and cries.

Shocked and confused, Jocasta was aware of someone leading her, through the pandemonium to the other side of the room. They slipped behind a curtain; and the soft long fingered hand of Bella enclosed hers in an urgent grip.
This way
, she motioned, letting her hand go free.

Jocasta followed Bella through another door and along a narrow, poorly lit corridor, her mind numbed by the events that she had just witnessed. For some reason she didn’t feel afraid, implicitly trusting the young woman who walked so lightly and smiled so brightly: she made Jocasta feel calm and reassured.

Eventually she found her voice and whispered to her companion, ‘What’s happening? Won’t they notice I’ve gone?’

Bella raised a ringed finger to her lips in a motion to impress quietness on Jocasta. She heard Bella’s voice echoing in her head, ‘
All will be revealed soon enough, now please just trust me
.’

Eventually they arrived at a small yet inviting room, which Jocasta knew instinctively, belonged to Bella. She watched Bella move quickly from cupboard to cupboard, obviously searching for something. Eventually she brought forth a small vial and added a couple of drops to a tumbler of liquid.

‘Drink this,’ she urged Jocasta aloud. ‘It will give you rest and close your mind to the others, so you’ll remain safe.’

Jocasta hesitated momentarily, but intuitively knew that this was what she needed to do. She swallowed the sweet-tasting liquid down in a few gulps. Placing the tumbler on a small table, she looked around for somewhere to sit. Bella indicated the bed and told her to lie down while she went in search of the others.

Jocasta shook off her boots and allowed Bella to cover her with a soft fleece blanket. She just had time, before exhaustion overcame her and her eyes closed involuntarily, to see Bella slip from the room. She heard a click as the lock was sealed from the outside.