Salt (18 page)

He withdrew. He was afraid. Keech was beginning in the way he had begun, with no more than blindness and a power, and Hari wondered how long it would be before the man heard the distant whisper: Keech. What would he become then? And where would that strength come from, what mysterious power?

I’ve got to take Tarl with me, he thought. He can’t fight this man.

Before he could decide what to do, a cry rose from the lawns behind the mansion: ‘The clerks are coming!’

The crowds in the streets had pushed through the open gates and formed a mass that surged and rumbled, filling Ottmar’s park from the mansion to the awning by the marble hand. A party of Blood Burrows men escorted three clerks through, breaking a way with blows from wooden staves. They brought them to the awning, three nervous men trying to look unconcerned. Keech hurried towards them, pulling on a feathered hat that made him look like a street juggler.

‘Hari,’ Tarl said, ‘wait here. I need you.’ He hurried after Keech, with Dog close by his side.

Hari found Pearl gripping his arm. The crowd had pushed her forward. Then he felt another pressure on them both, moving them closer to the awning: Keech men, a dozen or more, had circled behind them. They made a wall that stopped Hari and Pearl from finding a way back through the crowd. Hari was bewildered. When had Keech given that order?

Pearl, they’re holding us. But it’s me they want, not you.

I’m staying.

There are too many for us to control.

Hari, just wait for our chance. We’ll get away.

Tarl had joined Keech under the awning. But it was Keech who was in command. His shaggy beard, growing on only one side of his face, stood out almost straight in the fierce wind blowing from the sea. His feathered hat was whipped into the crowd. He let it go. One of his bent legs kicked away the chairs on the burrows side of the table.

‘Burrows-men stay on their feet. We like to move fast. But sit, you clerks, if you want to rest your arses.’

The crowd roared its approval.

Two of the clerks, in red and blue uniforms with tassels at the belt, sat down. The third man, standing behind their chairs, was the clerk Tarl had thrown his knife at, who had had his elbow crushed in People’s Square. Hari saw him recognise Tarl from the acid mark on his forehead – and, probing at the three men, saw that he was the clever one. He carried his arm in a sling, and when one of the officers put his hand back for a document he drew it out of the sling with a flourish.

The clerks wanted ceremony and speeches, but Keech was having none of it. He grabbed the document from the clerk and tore it in two.

‘Burrows-men don’t read,’ he cried. ‘This is paper. We burn paper to keep warm.’ He tossed the pieces behind him, and one of his men grabbed them and ran to the nearest fire and threw them on.

‘All we need is to say what we’re going to do . . .’

Hari, Pearl said, Keech and the other one, the clerk at the back, they’re the ones in charge. Can you feel them? Each one will betray the treaty. They’ll bargain and lie, then one will kill the other and Keech or the clerk will rule. I can feel it in them, going round and round.

Tarl has no chance, Hari said.

‘This is the agreement,’ Keech roared, speaking more to the burrows crowd than to the clerks. ‘Keech – Keech and Tarl, Keech and Blood Burrow, and Bawdhouse, and all the burrows – we keep the heights. They are ours. We keep the burrows. They are ours. We keep the southern side of Port. That is ours. And we keep the southern half of City, from the great avenue that runs into the west. It is ours when we take it from the workers, who are scum. All the rest the clerks can have. That is yours.’

‘But,’ cried one of the officers, ‘that’s absurd. That wasn’t the agreement . . .’

‘The agreement is changed. Remember that our cannons look down on your homes and families. On your children, eh, so soft and white. They look down like fangcats ready to pounce. How much have you lost already? Do you want to lose more? We will fight with you against the workers. Kill them. Drive them out. And we will divide things as I have said. Agree now or go back where you came from, but listen for our cannons as you go down.’

The clerk with the crushed arm leaned between the officers and whispered. White-faced, they shook their heads. The clerk whispered again.

Keech will kill them if they don’t agree, Hari said.

They know, Pearl said.

The senior officer stood up. He swayed and looked as if he would faint. But the clerk murmured again – and Pearl and Hari heard: Tell them we agree. Everything can be changed when it suits us. We have time.

The officer raised his hand. His voice came faintly: ‘We agree to the terms.’

‘Louder,’ Keech bellowed. ‘I want my people to hear.’

‘We agree to the terms,’ the officer cried weakly.

‘You hear, burrows-men,’ Keech yelled. ‘You hear, Keech Burrow. The treaty is agreed. We have the burrows, and the heights, and the city and the port. They are ours. The burrows are free from tyranny at last.’

A roar rose from the crowd, like water rushing uphill; and the rain started again, slanting in like sharpened wire and hissing in the fires.

Keech raised his arms. He was like a magician, making silence.

‘Now we must entertain our friends, the clerks, and show them how Keech Burrow punishes its enemies. Bring the prisoners.’

Men pulled open the cage door at the back of the awning. They dragged out Kyle-Ott, who bit and fought, and Ottmar, half lifting him like a sack. They pushed them across the table, knocking the clerks aside, and Keech grabbed each by the collar, one handed, hauled them the rest of the way and threw them on the grass in front of the crowd. The wind blew a great gust, puffing then hollowing the canvas roof, which clapped twice like a giant hand.

‘The great King Ottmar. The Prince Kyle-Ott. See how they kneel before you, burrows-men.’

Hari and Pearl had worked their way forward, trying to get away from the men hedging them. They stood close to Tarl and Dog, at the awning’s side.

‘Tarl, he’s taken control. We’ve got to get out of here.’

‘No. No.’

‘Tarl, he’ll kill you next.’

‘No he won’t. I’ve got Blood Burrow. I’ve got the dogs. Hari, stand by me, help me, Hari. I can beat him.’

Keech men hauled Ottmar and Kyle-Ott to their feet. Ottmar was gibbering with terror.

Tarl stepped forward.

‘My prisoners. Mine,’ he cried. ‘I put them in their cages and I will order their deaths.’

‘Slaves,’ Kyle-Ott cried shrilly. ‘You are slaves, you are filth.’

Keech knocked him down. ‘What does it matter,’ he bellowed, ‘who captured them? Here they are, the last of the Families alive, and when they’re dead there are no more left. So let us kill them, burrows. Let’s throw them from the Rock.’

Kyle-Ott climbed to his feet. He kept his courage.

‘My father could not have ruled,’ he cried. ‘Look at him. He weeps like a girl. But I can rule. Take me for your king. I will give you riches, burrows-men. You shall have seats beside my throne. I’ll appoint you as my governors and generals, you –’ pointing at Keech – ‘and you –’ at Tarl. ‘My right hand and my left, in war, in trade, in plunder, in all the riches that belonged to Company. And I will take one of your women as my queen. Bring them forth. Bring forth your maidens. Let me choose.’

His eyes swept them – Keech, Tarl, the men standing at their backs, searching for women – then they stopped. Stopped at Pearl. She could not get her eyes closed quickly enough. Kyle-Ott knew her. His face turned white; the scar on his cheek stood out red.

He gave a shriek: ‘It is her. It is Pearl. It is Radiant Pearl, my father’s bride. Burrows-men, I am not the last. There is one more. I give her to you. She’s my gift. Throw her in my place, throw the bride with the king –’ he gestured at his father – ‘and I will be your new king . . .’

‘Kill the boy,’ Keech cried. ‘Stop his babble. Take him.’

Men rushed forward, seized Kyle-Ott by the arms, ran him through a channel opening in the crowd, past the marble hand to the edge of the cliff, and threw him, screaming defiance, into the dark.

‘That’s the end of the boy king. Now for his daddy,’ cried Keech.

But Ottmar had not waited. The men who held him had loosened their grip to watch Kyle-Ott die, and Ottmar, mad with terror, knocked them aside. He ran, fast for a big man, across the face of the crowd, and as his son fell he broke clear, heading for the wall between the park and the House Kruger gardens.

Keech laughed. He let Ottmar get among the trees by the wall, then cried: ‘Bring him back, Keech men. Bring back our king and make him fly.’

A dozen men ran after Ottmar. But Tarl was quicker.

‘Dog,’ he said, touching him lightly on the head.

Dog gave a shrill bark, alerting his pack. He ran, overtaking the men, joining then leading the pack, which made a hideous yelping of excitement. Ottmar reached the wall and heaved himself up, once, twice, straining his arms. The dogs took him on his third try – ankle, calf and thigh – while Dog, leaping, fastened his teeth in Ottmar’s side and hung like a gourd twisting on a vine. Ottmar fell. The dogs boiled over him in a heaving mass of brown and black and yellow.

Pearl and Hari had turned away. They tried to break through the men surrounding them, but there was no way, even when they tried to push them with their minds. When one was dazed and under control, another stepped into his place.

‘The end of Ottmar, burrows-men,’ Tarl cried. ‘Blood Burrow takes Ottmar. He is food for my dogs.’

Keech grinned at him. His teeth flashed in the firelight, halving his crooked mouth. ‘It is well done,’ he said. ‘Tarl does well. But listen, burrows-men, there is another. Ottmar is dead. Ottmar is bones. But what about this queen the boy prince told us of ? Where is she? Where is Queen Pearl?’

He turned suddenly. His black jumping eye settled on Pearl. He motioned with his hand, and the men at her back lifted her and threw her down beside the overturned chairs.

‘Stand her up,’ Keech said.

They pulled her to her feet. Keech stepped forward and jerked the hood from her face. Pearl’s yellow hair tumbled out. He tore her cloak open and stripped it away, leaving her in her trousers and shirt.

‘See, the boy Kyle-Ott was right. She comes from the Families, she is Pearl. See her hair, burrows-men, see it shine like Company gold. See her arms, they are white. See her ears, like sea shells, and her eyes like the sea. Keech Burrow claims her. Keech will make her fly.’

Pearl could do nothing. Her mind was paralysed and would not work. She felt herself contracting; she was small and pinched with terror.

Then she heard Hari’s voice, far away: Do nothing, Pearl. Trust me, Pearl.

He spoke aloud: ‘Leave her, Keech. She’s my prisoner.’

‘Who, the boy, Hari? The boy without a weapon. You have no voice here.’

‘My own voice,’ Hari cried, ‘and the voice of Tarl, my father. And the voice of Blood Burrow too. And she is mine. Pearl is mine. I took her. I brought her here as my prisoner. She is my offering to the burrows. Radiant Pearl of House Bowles.’

His mind had never worked so fast, yet every step he must take was certain, as though he walked easily across a room.

‘The boy talks shit. Don’t listen to the boy. He brought her here hidden, to spy on us,’ Keech cried.

Hari went into the man’s mind, making him reel, holding him, although he met the same wall as before. He knew his advantage would not last.

Quiet, Keech.

He raised his voice: ‘I brought her as the last survivor of the Families. I brought her to die. And I will be her executioner. I will throw her. It is my right, for Blood Burrow. Ask Tarl.’

Tarl saw his chance.

‘Hari speaks the truth. Stand by him, Blood Burrow. Burrows all. He captured her: the right of execution lies with him.’

‘Enough talk,’ cried a Bawdhouse woman. ‘Let the boy do it. Throw the girl.’

Other voices rose, became a roar of approval.

Hari stepped to Pearl’s side. He gripped her arm.

Do what I say, Pearl. Do nothing else.

He raised his voice: ‘Clear the way. Let me take her to the Rock.’

Stumble, Pearl. Make it look as if you’re afraid.

I am afraid, Hari.

So am I.

He pushed by Keech, who was free again, although shaking his head as though a botfly buzzed in it. A path opened past the fires, towards the marble hand. Hari led Pearl along it, holding her up, not talking to her. He played the steps of what he must do in his mind, held them in sequence, made them perfect. Then he spoke to Pearl.

Pearl, when I came here looking in windows, I worked out ways to get away if anyone saw me. There’s only one we can use now.

What, Hari?

We jump off the cliff.

Hari . . .

Not from the Rock. From where the thumb points, from the hand. It’s close to the edge, it’s only four or five steps. When you stand there you can see two reefs sticking out, with water in between up to the cliff. Pearl, the tide has to be high, and it is. The wind has to be blowing in, and it is. Each wave rolls up to the cliff, and there’s a moment when it hits, it bulges up and then it’s still, half a second, before it rushes out. Pearl . . .

Hari, we can’t . . .

Yes we can. I timed it. I threw down stones to see how long they took. There’s no other way. Hold on to me, Pearl.

There was a space between the front of the crowd and the hand. They moved across it slowly, Pearl stumbling. Keech followed them. Tarl came at his side. Glancing back, Hari saw Tarl move his hand onto his Dweller knife.

‘Hurry, boy,’ Keech said. ‘We haven’t got all night.’

Hari ignored him.

Pearl, fall over when we go under the thumb. Make it seem you’re crying.

I am crying, Hari.

They moved further ahead of Keech and Tarl. The grass gave way to rock, where the plinth that held the hand had its base. The crowd belched with anticipation as they passed under the marble thumb. Pearl sank to the ground.

Good, Pearl.

I can’t help it.

He put his foot on her, rolled her over, grinned at the crowd, which shouted with glee. The place Kyle-Ott had been thrown from was ten metres ahead, but the edge of the cliff, where they would jump, was only five steps away. He pulled Pearl to her feet, then looked at the sea, where two black points of reef should be visible. The rain was too thick – he could not see them; but glimpsed a grey puff, like a dust ball, two puffs, as a wave struck where the reefs must end.