Rojan Dizon 03 - Last to Rise (18 page)

I couldn’t even tell if I was being sensible or a complete dick when I finally said, “Pasha, I’d have done it, stayed there, died even, if I could have been sure it would have helped, if we could have found her in time, saved her like you wanted to. Dying while saving her, that I can understand, that I’d do. Yes, I would. Dying while failing to?
Stupid.
And I never took you for stupid. You’re too wrapped up in everything
but
yourself, too wrapped up in trying to be her hero to remember she’ll want you around to be her hero for a while. And you have that, had her to go home to, and you don’t even know what that means. Everything I wanted, you have. And you’re ready to throw it away.”

An almost silent snort of what might have been laughter, a twist of lips that was a grotesque imitation of his usual monkey grin.

“Throw it away? No, get it back. And not just for her, for all of us…” He shook his head and left, silent but intent. On what I couldn’t be sure, though “damnfool way to try to rescue Jake” would have topped the list.

I should have followed him, but I couldn’t. I envied him like I never had before. Not because of what he had, but because of what he was prepared to do for it, her. I was jealous of the strength he had inside him, even when I thought it was making him stupid.

So I didn’t follow him, because all that would have come out and I didn’t think he deserved it. Instead I sat and stared at my stupid throbbing hand and listened to that insidious voice inside me, telling me to do it, do it, blow the whole place, you know you want to. And I did want to. Too much. Not for anyone else; for me.

Perak jerked me out of it when he came in, looking wearier than I’d ever seen him. I opened my mouth to ask him something, something important perhaps, I can’t recall, but I didn’t get the chance. A buzzing zap, familiar but ten times, a hundred times louder than I’d ever heard it before. A burst of something arced past the window, split, pulsed, arrowed down towards the gates.

I knew what it was. Lise’s infernal machine. Like my pulse pistol, she’d said, only bigger, stronger, more sustained. Only… only…

I was out of the room, through a startled gaggle of magelets and banging on the locked door of the machine room before anyone else had even moved. No sound from the other side. Allit and some of the other kids came up behind me. I panicked then, because I thought I knew what I was going to see in there, and I didn’t want them seeing it. Bad enough that I had to, and I
had
to get in there and know for sure just how stupid Pasha had been. So I did something pretty stupid myself – gave in to that voice, clenched my hand and let a bit of juice in. Not much, enough to rearrange the lock so I could open the door. Enough that my vision went all black, that my heart stopped in terror as I wondered if this was it,
this
was the thing that was going to take me once and for all.

For a while, it looked like it was. I floundered in the dark of my head, wanting to sink in, give up, fall back, but knowing I couldn’t. Not yet, not until I’d seen, until I knew.

I don’t know how long I was in there, maybe only heartbeats but it felt as long as the rest of my life. I’d probably still be there now, and none of the rest would have happened the way it did, except for something that felt like it smacked my brain out of my head and brought me back to the here and now. Sitting propped up against the door, which it seemed I’d rearranged behind me. I may have overdone it, because the lock appeared to have melted and then hardened again, and no one was going to be coming in without some very specialised cutting gear.

So I was on my own, except for the machine and what lay on it.

Weird, sometimes, the things you see when you don’t want to see anything else, to admit what is right in front of you. That machine is now burned into my brain. I can recall every rivet, every twist of cable, every demented cog and gear. The shine of oil across the top, the little slick underneath where Lise had dropped the oilcan and no one had mopped it up. The faint smell of tangy metal to the air. How everything was lit by the pale swirl of moonlight on falling snow that came through the window and picked out shapes in silver light and black shadow. How those shadows seemed to morph into the shape of a stalking, drool-toothed tiger. The shattered glass of the syringe where it had fallen from Pasha’s hand with a few drops of Lise’s concoction, the one that amplified magic, still clinging to the pieces. The random thought of
He must have stolen it from her drawer
. I can recall it all, every last detail, because I stared at it rather than at Pasha.

It should have been me on that chair. Would have been, if I’d had half his guts or passion. Then perhaps I’d have been lying there, smoke still drifting from my hair, blood dripping from my hand where I’d brought out my juice, the drips getting slower and slower until finally they stopped. Until I stopped. Lying pale but serene, my eyes half shut and looking… triumphant.

I must have sat there for an age, maybe two, just staring at him, but almost all I can remember thinking was,
How can death be triumphant? How?
After a time the room became blurred, colours swam in front of my eyes and the black slipped back in for good. It had never really gone away, but now, with this in front of me, proof if it was ever needed of my own lily-liveredness, its voice had fangs that drove deep.

Chickenshit
, it said, and it didn’t need to say anything else, but it did. Oh yes.
Chickenshit. If you had any bollocks at all you could have ended this. Gone down to those gates and blown all those Storad sky-fucking-high. Got on that machine and zapped the crap out of anyone you felt like.

You still can. Then we’ll be together. Best friends for ever.
 

I think it was Dendal who got me on my feet, patted my back like I was a two-year-old who’d just had a bad dream and said, “There, there.” Perak came too; I know that because I heard him say a blessing over Pasha. Not the Ministry-approved bland crap either. A proper blessing, one of the old ones, full of brimstone and anger. I think Pasha would have liked that.

My recollections get a bit hazy after that – just odd sights and sounds. Dendal got me along to the office and I sat on the lumpy sofa and stared at Griswald as though he had any answers. Allit crying, his face all blotchy. Erlat looking frazzled and tearful, cracks in her gemstone façade. Lise swearing, sobbing as we passed through her workshop, rattling her toolbox in frustration and guilt, ripping up the plans for the machine. Snow falling past the window, soft and silent in the dark. Dendal reading some scripture in his dry, papery voice which had a hitch in it now. A cramp in my chest, the sound of the black laughing at me, calling me chickenshit.

It all came back into focus when the door opened and Jake walked in. My first thought was,
How the hell am I going to tell her?
And tell her it should have been me, not him? But the look on her face, the way it had closed off completely, iced over, told me she knew. She hadn’t needed anyone to tell her – she’d known anyway, because Pasha was no longer in her head, and I wondered how lonely that would be, to have silence when you’d had the comfort of that voice with you always.

Out of all the faces around me, hers was the only one with no hint of tears. Blood, yes, and mud, frustration and a dead, bone-achingly empty tiredness, but no tears. Pasha had done what he set out to do – somehow, and I wasn’t sure how right then, he had saved her. And
boy
was she pissed off about it.

I staggered to my feet, unsure what I was going to say, what I could say that would make any difference.
How far would you go?
How far would I go for her? Not as far as him, it had always been that way. That’s why she loved him, not me. Or one of the reasons anyway. But now I thought on what he had said about sacrifice, that it was supposed to hurt or what was the point? The Downside Goddess was big on sacrifice, on fighting the inevitable. If she existed, then Pasha should be getting a damned great reward right about now. But who had his sacrifice hurt more? Because Jake wasn’t crying, but there was something fragile just under her surface, obvious in the way she moved, as though she was suddenly made of glass. Like she would shatter if I said the wrong word.

I chickened out, afraid to break her even worse than she already was. My only consolation in all this was that I’d managed to get her a few weeks of happy with Pasha. Not much, but some. And yet maybe that was worse, because now she knew what she’d lost.

So like the coward I was, am, I said nothing and she drifted past me, pale and ghostly, empty of anything. I don’t think she even saw me, left us all behind in silence as she went to the machine room. She stayed there a long while.

Perak broke the silence in the end, first with a murmured prayer, and then pulling himself together and speaking out loud. “He bought us some time. He got Jake enough space, enough chaos to get out, and us some time. He did that, at least.”

“Time for what though? Arranging our funerals?” I tried not to let the bile out, but it was there and it dripped through every word. The stupidity of it, the sheer waste.
Why, Pasha?
We could have done something, could have got Jake out some other way that didn’t involve you dying, so why?

Goddess only knows what Perak was about to say, because Dendal had an attack of lucidity and his voice was unusually sharp. “To do what we have to, Rojan. What
you
have to. And if you don’t, I will.”

I stared at him, alarmed by the sudden strength of his voice. I half suspected he was going to go on about Goddess-given work, or what she expected of me, so I tried my best to deflect him because that always made me want to blast steam out of my ears.

“What happened, then? When Pasha… when he used the machine…”

“It worked. Partially,” Perak said. “Took out a small area of their men, helped us keep the gates because it scared the rest stupid. Helped Jake get away because the small group was the one holding her, and that’s all he wanted, I think. But they won’t stay scared, especially if they find out we aren’t using it again. And we are
not
using it again.”

He said it very matter-of-factly, and his eyes were steady on mine. “Are we clear on that?”

Like I was ever likely to go near the damned thing ever again. I didn’t even want to look at it, and I valued my own arse too much to contemplate using it now. “We’re clear.” And then, because thoughts were swirling around my head that I didn’t want to think, “And where are we? The Storad outside the gates?”

“Still there,” Malaki said. “They got spooked for a bit, but they won’t be long. Not long.”

“So what do we do?”

Perak sighed and the captain shook his head. “Whatever we can.”

Perak and Malaki went over what they knew, numbers of men, of guns, where they were, where the Storad had dug in, all the thousand and one details that someone needed to look over and I was glad it wasn’t me. Between the guards and recruits and Pasha, we’d held them off. For now.

Allit stirred in the corner of the office as far from Pasha’s desk as he could get, twisting his fingers. The pop as one dislocated seemed very loud, but what really got my attention was the look on his face as he saw whatever it was that he saw. Future, past, present? Concrete or shifting? We didn’t know for sure, but still, something was better than nothing.

I crouched down in front of him, glad for the distraction. After a minute or two, his eyes came back to here.

“What did you see?” I asked.

“Storad in Top of the World. Storad everywhere. Not as ghostly this time. I think… I think it’s becoming more true, or more possible?”

I patted his arm, a pathetic attempt at making him not worry. I mean, we were screwed and it was obvious. Maybe Pasha had got the better deal – quick, probably fairly painless except what he’d used to fire up his juice. Namrat was going to be busy, already was, and many of those he ate would take longer. “Maybe. Anything else? How did they, er, do they get in? Did you see us?”

He frowned, maybe trying to make sense of what he’d seen. “Through the gates, how else? And they cut their way up and… and… there was blood and something squealing… and…”

“All right. It’s all right, it hasn’t happened.” Yet, I added to myself. “What else?”

“They all rise.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Someone says it, only I couldn’t see who, or what they meant. Just, they all rise. You’re not there, I don’t think. You’re… I don’t know. It seems stupid.” He risked a strange look at me. “I mean, you know, what with you hating the Goddess and everything.” The way he said it, it sounded like a bewildered accusation.

“How about you tell me, and I’ll tell you if it sounds stupid?”

“I don’t know exactly. But you were standing in a temple, looking up at the saints and martyrs. You weren’t praying but… you looked weird.”

Well, I would if I was looking at saints and martyrs. I was probably thinking what a bunch of silly sods they were. I didn’t say that to Allit, because he looked worried enough as it was.

“I wish I could do stuff like you, or like Pasha – like he did, I mean.
Useful
things. What use is this, when I can’t even say for sure it’s true, it will happen? It’s stupid.”

“Hey, look at me.” I gave him a bit of a shake, just enough to make him listen past the frustration that was scrunching his face. “You can do magic. You know how many people can say that? Not many, not many at all. It may not seem useful now, but you’ll find other ways of using it, maybe find your Minor too. Or maybe this is your Minor and you’ll figure out what your Major is. But no matter what, I bet you there’s no other kid in this city who can do what you just did. And it
does
help.” I wasn’t even lying about that, because he’d given me an idea. “If we know, or are pretty sure, that a: they’re going to get in and b: they’re going to head for Top of the World, then there are things we can do. Not waste men trying to stop them, if we know they can’t. Not worry so much about the tunnels – they’d hardly collapse the city if they’re going to be in it. Evacuate between the gate and Top of the World, excepting the guards, those with means to defend themselves. Try to get some people out of the Mishan gate, maybe. If they’ll take us, which they may not. You did good, Allit. You did good. You keep trying, keep looking. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the person that saves the whole city.”

Yeah, I know. Doesn’t really sound like me. But my brain seemed to have taken on a wedge of darkness and talking to Allit like that, seeing the worry fade, at least a bit, helped. Not much, but frankly right then I would have taken anything, anything at all to let a little light into my head. Besides, the boy
had
done good. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and he’d seen – he’d seen Pasha use the machine, and he’d been right about that, and listening to him had brought me back a bit of resolve. A bit of light and hope when all had been black and hopeless.

I took him with me to the lab to talk to Perak and Malaki, wanting someone next to me when I couldn’t have Pasha, and between us we came up with something. I hesitate to call it a plan, because mostly it was guesswork and hoping, but it was something at least.

There was a fair bit of arguing involved, mainly about me and whether Perak was going to allow me to use any magic. I shouldn’t, I knew that. The edges of my vision were dark and blurred, making everyone seem somehow twisted. Faces darkened, eyes shadowed, till I began to wonder who was friend and who was foe. The voice of the black kept up a constant sweet singing in my head, luring me, tempting me. I shouldn’t, but Pasha’s face haunted me. Triumphant, how could death be triumphant? But he’d done it, even when he knew he shouldn’t, that it could kill him. He’d done it for what he believed in, for what he loved, and so I had to too or I was betraying him, or so it felt.

I didn’t say any of that, only argued that I was needed, that I could help, a lot. Perak wasn’t having any of it, and neither was Malaki. “No magic” was pretty much all Perak said, apart from “I need you here, Rojan. We’ve lost Pasha and, if nothing else, I need you because we still need Glow and you’re the one who needs to provide it, when you’re recovered anyway. We’re going to win this thing, and then I’ll need you more than ever.”

I kind of wished I had Pasha’s magic, just for a while, so I could persuade Perak into letting me, but it was hopeless, especially when Malaki threatened to bring in some men to make damned sure I didn’t do anything, go anywhere. Talk about feeling useless, helpless.

So I lost the argument, but I was used to that, I’m a past master at losing the argument, and we went on to what we actually were going to do. We went back and forward and got nowhere until Allit piped up with what he’d seen.

“You’re sure?” Perak said.

“I – well I’m sure I saw it. I don’t know how true it is, or will be.”

Perak pinched his lips together, went to stare out of the window, and I went with him. We looked up at the fantastical spire of Top of the World, at Clouds looming over the city like a cancer. Perak had that look in his eyes, the one I’d learned early on usually meant trouble for someone, usually me. It was an unfocused stare coupled with a wistful smile, as though he was dreaming of other worlds, other ways to be. Other ways to blow shit up and get me in trouble.

“Whatever it is you’re about to suggest,” I said, “the answer’s no.”

“Hmm? Oh, well.” The smile hardened into something more determined. “How likely is it, what Allit sees, do you think?”

“No idea. But he saw someone use the machine and that happened. He saw the Storad bring their machines over the mountain, and we know they’re on their way. He saw Dench getting hold of Jake. He says he’s seen one or two things that didn’t happen but… Pretty likely, I think.”

“So do I. I can’t do it on my own, Rojan. All this, the Ministry, being Archdeacon, trying to change things. It’s not about who’s in charge. It’s the whole damned thing, and it’s too big for one man to change.”

“First things first. If we can survive the Storad, then you can change things, make Ministry what it should be,
Mahala
what it should be.”

Perak once told me I was wrong about him, that he’d changed and that what I called dreaming, he called thinking. I really should have paid attention. It would have helped, later.

“‘They all rise,’” Perak said. “What do you think that means?”

“I don’t know! Look, it doesn’t matter. The Storad are probably going to get in, and of course they’ll head to Top of the World. No shock there. The question is, what are we going to do about it? What
can
we do about it? Apart from bugger all, just die. It’s not appealing. Maybe we could make a human shield out of cardinals. It might not help, but I’d feel better.”

The smile turned into a full-blown grin. “You always hated everything, didn’t you? I thought that was just you, that the way things turned out made you like that. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Perak, will you tell me what plan you’ve got running through your head and how it will involve me falling from a great height into the shit? Because it will. It always does.”

“Maybe not this time. I’ll – I’m not sure, not totally, yet. Not on my end. Top of the World is my domain, where I belong, so you leave that to me. I’ve got a plan for that, and it
will
work, no matter what I have to do to make it happen. I’ll make it damned well work. You, I think, have to concentrate on the ‘They all rise’ part. Trust me on the rest – if all else fails, I’ve a plan for Top of the World, especially if I can get around the cardinals.”

The thought of Perak having a plan didn’t fill me with confidence, but I kept quiet on it.

He rifled in the pockets of his robe and pulled out a slip of paper, scribbled something on it, gave it the official archdeacon seal and handed it to me. “Think about it, what ‘They all rise’ might mean, how we can use it. In the meantime, Lise needs some help, and perhaps you can give it. Use this if you need anything. Anything at all. And please.
No magic
. Not yet. Dendal was quite firm about it, and I’m not about to lose you too.”

With that he went to go and confer with Malaki, and left me more confused than ever. I was never sure, from moment to moment, whether my brother was just a dreamer dreaming ideas too big and too explosive to ever work, or worked way too well, or whether he was so intelligent it scared me. Perhaps both – there’s more than one type of smart and it’s not always sensible.

Instead of dwelling on whatever crackpot idea Perak had come up with, under the watchful gaze of two Specials who looked like breaking any limbs they happened to find wouldn’t bother them one little bit, I went to help Lise like a good helpless brother.

I found her at her desk, scribbling furiously on a notepad, little squiggles and symbols that meant less than nothing to me. She’d stuck the plans for the damned machine back together with tape, making them look more demented and incomprehensible than ever. Every now and again she’d glance up at the picture on her desk, of Dwarf, her mentor and perhaps more. I hadn’t liked to ask, especially after he died.

“It’ll work,” she muttered when she noticed me. “He shouldn’t have used it, not yet – why did he?”

“Because he didn’t see any other way,” I said. Because I wouldn’t let him use any other way, I thought.

“I can make it work, I’m sure. Safe too.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to work on the —”

She glared up at me, the family donkey line firmly in place between her eyes. I was going to lose this argument as well.

“If I can get this to work, we’ll be safe, all of us. If I can’t, it doesn’t matter how many guns the factory puts out, how much steel we can find. Guns won’t win this.”

And I couldn’t help with that, or understand half of what she was actually doing. I felt like one of her spare parts. Funny, I used to loathe my magic, afraid of it, not wanting to hurt myself, or get addicted to it like Dendal was. Well, I still thought hurting myself was a damnfool way to cast a spell, but now… I couldn’t use it, Perak was right. Not if I wanted to live, stay sane. A mage needs to be well fed, well rested, to get the most out of himself, the most out of his pain, and I was far from both of those things. I didn’t fancy dying much, so, Perak’s orders or not, magic was out of the question for now, and hell did I miss it.

Up there, in the pain room on the cusp of Trade, I was nothing more now than a hindrance, someone to get in Lise’s way or distract Perak from whatever scheme he had in mind. Worse, I had no Pasha. No one to call a little git, no one to rant at me and be my conscience. No more monkey grins, no passionate talk of the Goddess, no turning lion just when it was most awkward or calling me a prick when I needed to hear it.

I had no business being Over because I was Under through and through. I was useless, hopeless, helpless. So I did what anyone might do and went home.