Tamaruq (51 page)

We don’t know who it was, said Dien. A skad, or a Boreal. Maybe even one of our own.

Vikram looks up. A boy in a boat is watching him. It’s Mig. The boat is a neat little craft, sleek and motored. Mig looks pleased with himself. Behind Mig, clinging to the gunnel with both hands, is the Alaskan. She is drenched, and does not look pleased at all. Vikram has the unfortunate suspicion that the boy’s driving prowess is not as advanced as he hopes or believes it to be.

‘Where did you get that?’ he asks.

The boy shrugs.

‘It doesn’t belong to you, does it?’

Mig grins. Then his face turns serious.

‘Is this the place?’

‘Yes. This is it.’

‘I brought something. You left it in Patagonia.’ The boy holds aloft a small salt tin. ‘I thought you might need it.’

The Alaskan is studying the memorial.

‘Who was she?’

Who was she? He thinks of a red-haired woman with green eyes and a bold stare. Of roses, and a piano, and drowsy limbs on silk sheets. He thinks of a room in a derelict tower, Adelaide curling against him, her arms fragile like petals, as if she were already disintegrating, Adelaide whispering,
hold me
. He thinks of his last glimpse of her, through the dust and debris of an explosion, her eyes wide with shock and terror, stumbling to her feet. He thinks of the interview on the o’dio which Dien played for him, the voice so calm and steady and certain. Familiar and unfamiliar. These are the words left for him, words she spoke to other people, in another life.
I’m doing this for Vikram Bai.

He speaks without looking at the Alaskan.

‘She was someone I knew.’

‘Do you want the box?’ Mig asks. ‘I put more salt in it.’

He shakes his head. ‘You keep it. Go on, I’ll catch you up.’

Silently, he says goodbye to Adelaide, the woman he loved, to the Silverfish, who he did not know. The woman who died a second death. Across the waterway he can see Mig driving away, the boat jerking in haphazard motion, throwing up spray, the Alaskan shouting in protest. He wonders what they make of his city, a place of possibility, or a place that has run its course, or something else that Vikram cannot envision at all. Overhead he hears the flap of wings. A gull lands on the post of the memorial. Its wings lift and settle. It cocks its head, considering him, and for a moment he thinks of the old saying, that the souls of dead Osirians come to rest in the hearts of birds. And then he remembers that Adelaide never liked birds. A few towers along, Mig and the Alaskan have stopped. They’re waiting for him. He pauses, watching for the gull to fly off, but it remains stubbornly where it landed, one dark eye locked to his, and he finds he can’t look away.

My sincere thanks to the many friends who have supported me from the beginning to the end of The Osiris Project. In particular, I want to thank my agent, John Berlyne; my fantastic editors: Michael Rowley, Emily Yau, and Rob Clark; Clare Stacey, for her beautiful, evocative cover designs, and all the supporting team at Del Rey UK who do so much behind the scenes. Thank you to M-P, who was there at the very start of it, and with whom I’ve mulled over many an idea; to book friends Clare Bullock, Alexa Brown, Camilla Corr, Bridie France, who continue to inspire and encourage me; to my wonderful family; and to James, who picks me up when I’m down, and reminds me that sharks make everything better.

Adelaide Rechnov
Wealthy socialite and granddaughter of the Architect, she spends her time in pointless luxury, rebelling against her family in a series of jaded social extravagances and scandals until her twin brother disappears in mysterious circumstances.

Vikram Bai
He lives in the Western Quarter, home to the poor descendants of storm refugees and effectively quarantined from the wealthy elite. His people live with cold and starvation, but the coming brutal winter promises civil unrest, and a return to the riots of previous years.

As tensions rise in the city, can Adelaide and Vikram bridge the divide at the heart of Osiris before conspiracies bring them to the edge of disaster?

For political exile Taeo Ybanez, this could be his ticket home. Relations between the Antarcticans and the Patagonians are worse than ever, and to be caught on the wrong side could prove deadly.

For pilot and cartographer Ramona Callejas, the presence of the mysterious stranger is one more thing in the way of her saving her mother from a deadly disease.

All roads lead to Cataveiro, the city of fate and fortune, where their destinies will become intertwined and their futures cemented for ever …

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Copyright © E. J. Swift, 2015

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This edition published in 2015 by Del Rey

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ISBN 9780091953102