Expatria: The Box Set (9 page)
Read Expatria: The Box Set Online
Authors: Keith Brooke
The laboratory door opened and closed and Sukui stepped past Mathias. 'Jan,' he said to Kawabata, the laboratory supervisor. 'Hanrahan is relieved for four hours. Prime Salvo has requested to view him.' He turned back to Mathias. 'Come along. You have kept me overlong—we have little time. The Lord Andric waits for nobody.'
~
The Andricci Capitol was an extravagant building, to say the least. Even in broad daylight electric beacons lit what would otherwise be shady recesses, casting shadows at unnatural angles, burning blobs in Mathias's eyes. Every surface was painted in a jumble of colours that could never have been chosen as part of an overall scheme. Gold clashed with reds and pinks, lime greens with blues and jet black. Everywhere in the Capitol was filled with noise—laughter, shouting, sounds of ancient music; rich scents filled the air, too, so that every room, every corridor, was a bombardment of sensation.
It had still been dark when they arrived and Mathias had wondered why the Prime should wish to see him so early. Sukui had led him in past two precisely saluting guards at a side entrance and then they had spent nearly two hours in preparation. Sukui considered every detail of Mathias's appearance—robes and skullcap of the right shade, a manicure, a hair trim and a fresh shave, new sandals—and, while preparing Mathias's appearance, he had also schooled him in etiquette. 'Never meet the Lord's gaze, unless he speaks to you,' he had said. 'Keep speech to a minimum and, again, only when unavoidable. Stand proud—the Lord Salvo hates weakness—but never too proud. You must present no challenge. The audience will last only a few minutes. Then you must return to the laboratory.'
Sukui was clearly nervous, from his fussing over detail to the rapid, short steps he took as he led the freshly groomed Mathias into the depths of the Andricci palace. 'Remember your lessons, Hanrahan,' he whispered. 'The Lord Salvo is a fair man, but you must know your place. You are
nothing
. Remember that.'
They entered a long corridor lined with marble pillars. The sounds and gaudiness increased markedly and Mathias guessed they were close to Andric.
Guards stood at one end of the corridor and Sukui swept past them, suddenly a new man, confident and in control. They barely glanced at Mathias but he knew that his features were now fixed in their minds.
The room they entered was tall and wide. A long table occupied the centre, piled high with food of various sorts. Seated around the feast, laughing and talking, were a number of young men and women, all finely dressed and beautiful, with that air of nobility Mathias knew so well. A few years earlier he would have fitted in easily.
A quartet of musicians occupied a recess at the far side of the room. Three were sitting, plainly clothed and staring at the ground. The fourth was standing, foot on a chair, plucking discordantly at a big-bodied guitar and laughing louder than anybody else. Mathias guessed who he was as he handed the guitar back to its grateful owner and turned to face the newcomers. The Prime was a huge man, red beard flowing down over his chest, face ruddy and shining.
'My Lord Salvo,' said Sukui, bowing his head and sounding strong. 'I have brought you Mathias Hanrahan, as your equerry requested.' Sukui stepped back.
Mathias bowed his head and said, 'My lord,' as instructed. So this was the all-seeing and caring Lord Salvo that Sukui kept on about. He didn't quite fit. Mathias had expected a small man, sharp-eyed and gentle, with an air of command but also of understanding.
Andric laughed. Mathias had never heard such a powerful, booming voice. 'So the runaway prince has honoured me with a visit, hah? Come and eat at my table. Sukui, you too.' Mathias sat next to a milky-faced woman who carefully edged away from him. Sukui sat opposite, looking perplexed; his 'few-minute audience' was clearly not going as he had foreseen.
'Go on! Eat, for gods' sakes.' Andric sat down next to Mathias and took a handful of cashew nuts. 'Do you know what I was told yesterday, by my cousin, Siggy Axelmeyer?' He was staring at Mathias. 'He said that Edward Hanrahan's half-brother is in Alabama City. "
Alabama City?
" I said. Siggy told me that the deposed Prime of Newest Delhi shared his room in Soho, he said that he worked in one of my own laboratories! And do you know what he told me, too?' Andric leaned forward, drawing Mathias and Sukui towards him with a wave of one large hand. 'He told me that my trusted adviser, Kasimir Sukui, had brought Mathias Hanrahan here and had
neglected
to inform me. Hah! Preposterous. That's what I told him. Preposterous.' Andric turned to glare at Sukui, bringing his face to within centimetres of his adviser's. 'I told him that Kasimir Sukui would be mistaken to do such a thing. If he was not Kasimir Sukui, he would be punished severely for such an error.'
Sukui was white. His gaze fell away from the Prime's and he bowed his head. 'Should I leave now?' he asked.
Andric laughed, and he was joined hesitantly by the people around the table. 'Leave? No, you are my most trusted adviser and I am, as you so often tell me, a generous man.' He turned back to Mathias. 'Tell me, Mathias, what do you think of my city? Glorious, hah? Majestic, hah? You like it lots, I can tell.'
All Mathias had to do was nod.
'Siggy says you are bright, he likes you.' The Prime took another handful of nuts and swallowed them whole. 'I like you, too, Mathias. I have the feeling you may have a great future in my service. Tell me: what is the field that interests you the most? My Project covers them all. Come on, what is it?'
'In the past my works have tended towards electronics and the investigation of ancient artefacts,' said Mathias. 'My interests are broad, but that is where my main strength lies.'
'So be it,' said Andric. 'You hear, Kasimir? Move him immediately or I may not be so forgiving. In fact, Kasimir, I will give you another role. I'm going to appoint you young Hanrahan's guardian. You will look after him, nurture him, guide his progress. In fact, you can take him on your next trip. Orlyons, isn't it?' He turned back to Mathias. 'He goes to these places under the pretext of research, but really he goes for the whores. Hah! But this time he has to work. Things are unsettled in Orlyons, as you undoubtedly know. But it is a good source of artefacts and of people. Like yourself, hah! Before things get any worse, Kasimir must recover what he can and you, Mathias, can help him. You can make sure the whores don't overcharge him, at least.'
Orlyons
. Things could not have worked out better. Mathias nodded and said gravely, 'I will look after him, my lord.' Andric laughed louder than ever and Sukui sat quietly, still pale, still avoiding everybody's looks.
'I can see that we will get on well,' said the Prime. 'Just remember, Mathias. You lost your chance to be Prime long ago. Forget any such aspirations and things will be fine.' He leaned closer. 'But if I hear of any ambitions in that direction I will act. I am generous but I am also hard. Work for me, Hanrahan, and you will have a great future; work for your own ends and I will, reluctantly, destroy you.' Andric's eyes were burning through Mathias, the Prime's breath smelt of sulphur and garlic. 'Do you hear me, Mathias Hanrahan?'
Mathias nodded and the Prime of Alabama City laughed and took another handful of nuts. 'These are good,' he said. 'You should try some. You haven't even
touched
your food.'
Chapter 11
Mathias Hanrahan realised how serious the situation was when he saw the size of the convoy headed for Orlyons. Despite the rumours and the inflow of refugees, he had thought that maybe it was all being exaggerated. The troubles were not that bad; he couldn't imagine Orlyons as a site of conflict.
He looked out from his position on the leading barge and saw the rest of the convoy of six, each with only a skeleton crew so there would be plenty of room for the return trip.
Sukui joined him at the prow. Mathias could see that the scientist was uneasy and he remembered the man's distrust of the sea. 'I find this business somewhat distasteful,' he said, and for a moment Mathias thought he was talking of the sea. 'Even though we go unarmed, it is an act of aggression. We are to remove anything of value before Orlyons becomes too dangerous. But, in so doing, we accelerate the town's decline.' Sukui smiled sadly and bowed his head. 'Still, it is my lord's decree.'
Mathias watched the waves, feeling uncomfortable.
'Tell me, Mathias. What do you know of this Lucilla Ngota?' Sukui was regaining his self-control; Mathias could almost see his brain ticking over. Lucilla had made an impression on Sukui when they had met in Orlyons; he seemed scared by her and now he wanted to find out more. He wanted to rationalise his enemy away, a form of thinking that Mathias had come to recognise in his mentor, although he did not yet know whether it was a weakness or a strength.
'Lucilla is from the valleys,' he said. 'She reached a high position in the Newest Delhi militia, before... She was close to March: that's why she came after me in Orlyons, or at least that's why Edward chose her.'
'The lord's intelligence says she is orchestrating the conflicts in the Massif Gris,' said Sukui.
The Massif Gris was a hard region: humankind could barely produce enough food to survive, that high in the mountains. The people were poor of body and even poorer of mind, their villages were riddled with fundamentalism of a most primitive form. 'They would respond well to her,' said Mathias. 'She's a doer, she's no bureaucrat. She can motivate that sort of people—I can see why Andric is worried.'
'The Prime? Oh no, he does not worry,' said Sukui. 'I am merely curious.' Then he turned and walked away.
Mathias studied the sea as it slipped away on either side of the barge. Most of the day would have passed by the time they reached Orlyons. He wondered if the coming night would be a MidNight or not; he had lost track, something he had vowed never to do.
~
Mathias had expected the arrival of the convoy to cause something of a stir in Orlyons harbour. People would gather around, they would stop their work to stare and maybe ask questions; word would spread rapidly. That was what he had expected.
But this was not the Orlyons he knew. Most of the fishing boats were tied up and idle; those that were missing had taken everything from their dockside lock-ups, their absence clearly a permanent move. There were people rushing about, just as normal, but their faces were grim and it was a long time before Mathias saw anyone he even vaguely recognised. He looked around for his old boarding house on Westward Street and then he saw why the place was so discordant with his memories: the building was gone, one wall a ragged barrier holding back the heaps of masonry that had once formed his home.
For a moment he felt horribly responsible, then he looked beyond the ruined boarding house and saw a whole row of what had once been shops and bars and workshops but were now reduced to rubble.
Mathias found Sukui giving instructions to the barge crews. He dismissed them and bowed his head to Mathias. 'You heard?' he said. 'They are to moor in Mirror Bay. They will return at sunset tomorrow and then we will depart. We will wait for no one. Mathias, you have done well since the Prime put you in my care. I feel I can trust you. We must all go our separate ways—I have despatched the other juniors already. We have to recover all that we can. I have no time to watch over you but you would be wisest to do as I have said and return tomorrow. There is nothing for you here.'
Sukui headed past Mathias and into the town.
Mathias knew he could lose himself in Orlyons and nobody would care but, also, he knew that he would be waiting at sunset the following day. Sukui was right: since meeting with Andric, Mathias had found a new sense of responsibility. He was working in electronics now, restoring radios and a curious Toshiba trifacsimile and, in any spare time, he was deciphering technical texts and trying to guess the gaps. He could see progress being made; he couldn't give it up now and return to Orlyons.
He set off, heading for the Gentian Quarter. His instructions were simple: people and goods, quantity and quality. Newest Delhi and Orlyons had a virtual monopoly on ancient supplies and Andric wanted a stockpile while he still had the opportunity; in addition he wanted anyone who could follow a wiring diagram or read a textbook.
Mono knew little of the ancient ways—she could barely even read—but Mathias knew this was his opportunity. He had to find her.
The Gentian Quarter had somehow survived the troubles. Of course, there were buildings missing and others damaged—there were signs of destruction throughout Orlyons—but the people were still there, the people Mathias regarded as his family, a substitute for what Edward had stolen from him all those years ago.
'Hey, Alya!'
It took her a few moments to recognise him, then she was around her stall and hugging him. 'You look good, Matt, you look
good!
' Her cracked old face was shiny with tears but she kept hugging him and cackling away. 'Oh, Mono will be pleased. Wait till she sees you!'
A heavy weight drifted away from his heart.
Mono was all right
. He had not realised how much he was worrying until that weight lifted. 'Alya,' he said, holding her at arm's length. 'Tell me what's happening here. Everything's so different.'
'Ah!' She shook her head bitterly. 'They are little children with toy guns. They don't know what it
means
to kill a person. "Somebody's baby!" I tell them. "You bastards, you're killing babies."' She spat into the dusty road. 'But they don't listen. I'm an old woman and they're too busy bam-a-bamming at each other.'
'
Who
, Alya?'
'It's that Vera-Lynne Perse, she's one of them. I told her she was causing grief, see, but she didn't listen to an old woman. She bought guns and bombs and things from the bastards who done
you
, Matt, only she wanted to fight them off. Your Prime Edward, he has an army in most of Clermont, save here. They thought Vera-Lynne was on their side but she's using their guns to fight them and she's making them mad. I tell her, she's killing Orlyons, but she don't listen to—'
'An old woman, huh?' Mathias hugged her to stop her flow. He had heard enough. 'Listen, Alya. I don't have much time. I'm here to take as many of you away as I can. We have boats from Alabama City. They're leaving at sunset tomorrow. Alya, you're good with the artefacts, you can read—I can get you a place in Alabama, easy. We want artefacts, too. Anything you can get hold of: wiring, circuit boards, tools, books,
anything
. Alya, will you come along?'
Alya was looking at him strangely. 'Oh shit, Matt,' she said. 'Of course I'm coming. I saw that Sukui, just before you came along. He has a softness for me, he asked me to come. He didn't mention
you
, though!'
Mathias left her cackling and tidying up her stall. The streets were coming alive for another MidNight. It
had
to be MidNight, he could feel it in the air.
~
Vera-Lynne Perse caught up with him on the Rue de la Patterdois. She fell into step by his side, the same sharp features, the same proud set of her shoulders.
'Nice to see you're spreading the freedom of Orlyons so successfully,' he said, thinking back to her earlier tirades. This part of the Patterdois was a crumbling mess, sections of buildings reduced to rubble, windows smashed, walls cracked and leaning eccentrically. One gap in the buildings had been shielded with a wide canopy bearing a huge red cross; in its shelter men and women queued to see a medic or a nurse. 'You're looking good.'
'I heard you were back,' she said. 'Slide said you'd come to join the fight. I didn't believe him. I see I was right.'
'Slide?'
'He joined us late, not till after your brother's militia invaded Clermont. He's just gone back out in the field. Keeping them at bay. Most of the Underground are street people—they're shrewd tacticians, they know what a struggle is. Your brother's taken ninety per cent of the coastline but his militia don't dare stay inland when it gets dark. They didn't think we'd resist. Will you join us, Matt? It's tough keeping control—you could bring us all together. We'd save Orlyons.'
'Like you're saving it now?'
'It's easy to sound clever, Matt. Not so easy to face up to your beliefs and act.'
'I have done,' he said, thinking that perhaps it was close to the truth. 'And my beliefs don't involve getting shot in Orlyons.'
'I thought so,' said Vera-Lynne. 'I told Slide, but he said to try anyway.' Her walk was still proud as she turned to leave Mathias. 'Mono is in Greene Gardens, busking by Weeping Rock.' She smiled and shrugged. 'I guessed you might be looking for her.'
~
The voice was unmistakably Mono's. Mathias hurried along the path. As he drew closer he recognised the difference: she was singing unaccompanied, she had found no replacement for the old Semi-A.
It was dusk and the sky was burning red, but still a good crowd had stopped to listen; the struggle could wait just a little, the lady was singing. She was a tiny figure before the thirty or so listeners and the great, bulking form of Weeping Rock; it didn't seem possible that such a powerful voice could be hers.
He hung back at the edge of the crowd and let her song wind itself down, drifting away on the muggy evening breeze. At first she had sounded mournful, but then Mathias realised that he was misinterpreting her. Her song was wistful but relentlessly strong; behind the barely intelligible words was a gutsiness that she would ordinarily have put out through the Semi-A. It sounded eerie, that strength expressing itself through her singing, but Mathias realised that it had always been there.
When she looked up it was as if she had been expecting him. Maybe she had heard that he was in town, maybe not.
The music over, the crowd began to disperse, until only Mono and Mathias remained. 'I've come back,' he said. It sounded feeble but he couldn't retract his words.
Then she was in his arms, holding him tight and he forgot everything, focusing himself only on Mono. It seemed that nothing else could possibly matter. Not ever.
They passed a long time just walking, holding each other. Mathias told her all about Alabama City, about people she had never met and things she clearly did not understand; Mono told him about what had happened since he had left, only five months before. There was a lot that he didn't follow, a lot that
he had already heard, but he soaked it all up, just for the sound of Mono's voice.
'Mono,' he finally said. 'Will you come back to Alabama City with me? Please?'
Her face grew serious and he knew her reply before she spoke. 'No, Matt. I can't.' She shrugged. 'Where would 1 sing?'
'I'd get you a Primal Licence—Andric would listen to me, he'd
have
to!'
'Matt, I'm an artist,' she said, quietly. 'I need to be able to do what I want
when
I want. An artist cannot work within the constraints of Primal whim and, yes, Matt, you've said most performers get around the system, but I'm an
artist
. I'm
proud
of that, I don't want to hide it.'
'But what freedom is there here?'
'I'm free to think, Matt. I might get shot but I have that freedom.'
'I'll stay with you, then.' He was throwing everything away and he knew it, but he didn't care any more.
'No, Matt. You've grown since you left Orlyons, you have a sense of direction that I've never known in you. You can't lose that. You have to go back.'
'Don't you want me to stay?' He was sounding pathetic but that was exactly how he felt.
'Yes, I do.' Mono shook her head. 'But you can't, and you know it.'
Even then, he vowed that he would stay, but while Mono worked a bar on the Patterdois he found himself talking with people, bargaining, persuading them to be at the docks with goods for the coming sunset. Just because he was deserting didn't mean he couldn't get people out to Alabama City, he tried to believe.
By sunset he was at the docks, amazed at the quantities of goods and people being loaded onto the barges. It seemed that most of Orlyons was being transplanted to Alabama City. Three gunshots sounded in the distance, as if to convince the refugees that they had made the correct decision.
Mathias shuddered as he stood with Sukui, watching the barges fill up.
'You are returning to Alabama City?' asked Sukui.
'Yes, I'm returning,' said Mathias. He had always known that he would.
They left as darkness descended and, above the steady beat of the manoeuvring motors and the winches pulling at the rigging, Mathias imagined that he heard a voice, a song carrying faintly over the waves.
~
Working on the Project was a welcome respite after the emotional upheaval of Orlyons. Mathias could lose himself.
He was part of a small team responsible for sorting through old electronic items, deciding what could be repaired and what was fit only for breaking up. It was not the most inspiring work, but at least it held his interest; things had been a lot better for him since the Prime's intervention.
A week after his return from Orlyons, Mathias approached the research team's hut, situated on Dixie Hill on the fringes of Alabama City. The hut was weathered and patched together, hardly the research centre he had once imagined; inside, it was cold and cramped, but at least it was somewhere for the team to work.
He looked around, squinting. He was not usually this mean-spirited early in the morning; in fact it was usually a good time for him, to the annoyance of Sanjit Borodin, the group's supervisor.
