The Vagrant (30 page)

After a moment of looking they see a boy, not yet in his teens, sitting on a platform above, staring down at them through meshed metal. He is slender, clean skin wrapped in patched clothes. He comes lightly down the steps.

‘Yes?’ says Harm.

‘Did you want something? I’m sure I could help.’

The Vagrant crouches down, setting Vesper next to him, and pulls some food from his pocket. Sharp eyes flit from the offering to the men. The Vagrant beckons him closer.

‘What’s your name?’ asks Harm.

‘What do you want it to be?’

Disgust twists Harm’s mouth. ‘Just give us a name, it doesn’t even have to be your real one.’ He leans closer to the Vagrant, whispers in his ear. ‘Are you sure you want to pursue this?’

The Vagrant nods hurriedly.

‘My name is Chalk,’ replies the boy. ‘I have the palest skin in all the Circles, so they say.’

‘We’re not interested in your skin. What’s going on here? Why don’t the guards come into this area?’

Chalk reaches out, takes the food and nibbles at it, unable to hide his excitement. ‘Of course, anything you want! How much do you know about Six Circles?’

‘Pretend it’s our first visit. Pretend we know nothing.’

Chalk nods sagely, ‘I understand. I’ll pretend you’re fresh and innocent. The guards never come in, and they try to keep us from getting out. They fail of course.’

‘Who looks after you?’

‘Griggsy looks after us. Gets us whatever we need.’

‘He’s your father?’

Chalk giggles, ‘Do you have anything else to give me?’ Knowing fingers brush the Vagrant’s thigh. ‘If you want to pretend some more we could go upstairs together …’

The Vagrant’s mouth drops open, amber eyes widen in shock, then turn to Harm, seeking answers.

‘I tried to warn you.’

‘Is something wrong?’ asks Chalk, afraid. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

The Vagrant is still looking at Harm, his expression dark.

Green eyes widen in understanding. ‘Are you sure about this? Of course you are.’

‘What’s going on?’ asks Chalk.

Vesper is lifted up, feet kicking the air, protesting, and given over to Harm.

‘What’s going on?’

‘We’re going up now. Take us to your employer.’

‘I don’t know,’ says Chalk, backing away. He turns to run but the Vagrant is faster, grabbing his wrist firmly.

‘It wasn’t a request.’

They ascend the stairs slowly, accompanied by Chalk’s constant begging. Other gangs are drawn to the commotion, contributing abuse and pieces of rotten food from their perches.

Drawing level with the lower buildings allows glimpses of life. Most doors are open, wanton, with many dwellings doubling as shops. At this end of the ship, drugs and flesh are the top sellers.

Harm stops them. ‘It’s this one.’

‘How did you know?’ gasps Chalk as the Vagrant drags him inside. Harm follows, holding Vesper tightly.

Strip heaters provide dingy light. Ridged rubber lines the outside of booths, pale and black. There are twelve in all. Ten are shut, active.

The Vagrant releases his grip and Chalk clears his throat. ‘I’m in trouble.’

A hard-faced man steps out of a booth. In his hand, casual, is a long brass bar. ‘Did I hear there might be a problem, Chalky?’

‘Yes, this man isn’t very happy with me.’

‘Oh, that right?’ The man turns his attention to the Vagrant. ‘Well, we got other lads might suit you better. We got girls too if you’d prefer. You tell Griggsy, what do you need?’ The man twists the bar in his hand. ‘Something wrong? You shy or just dumb? I gotta tell you I don’t like the look in your eye. If you’re not here for business then you know the way out.’

Harm speaks into the silence. ‘He wants you to stop.’

‘Stop what?’

‘This.’ Harm gestures to the booths.

‘You have to be shitting me! I feed them, clean them, house them and in return they make me good money. Everybody wins.’

‘That was the wrong answer.’

‘You’re threatening me?’

‘I’m not,’ Harm replies, backing out of the room with Vesper.

The Vagrant flicks open one side of his coat, gripping the sword’s hilt. Chalk presses himself against the wall.

‘A Seraph Knight? Here!’ Griggsy shakes his head. Booth doors open, revealing a mix of faces, three curious, three scared, two bloodthirsty, one ashamed. ‘Do you know what they do to Seraph Knights in these parts?’ Griggsy raises the bar and the hairs on his arm stand to attention. ‘No? I’ll—’

With a cry, the sword is drawn. Sound buffets the assembled, judging. Blood runs from ears, from noses, men run from the room.

Griggsy stays, grits his teeth. ‘As I was saying, I’ll show you!’

Lightning arcs from the bar, aiming for the Vagrant’s chest. At the last moment it veers away, drawn to the sword’s edge. The two men stand, weapons held out front, energy crackling between them.

The Vagrant lowers the sword ninety degrees and lightning flows backward, until brass turns white. Griggsy drops the bar, screaming. It lands softly on the rubber floor. The Vagrant steps forward, raises the sword to strike as Griggsy falls away from him, trying to plead but unable to shape words around the pain in his smoking hand.

The Vagrant pauses, sword humming above his head.

‘Why have you stopped?’ demands Chalk. ‘Kill him!’

The Vagrant looks into the open booths. A child huddles in each, sometimes two. They regard him with scared, empty eyes. He takes one hand from the sword and points to the exit. The children leave without question. Griggsy goes to follow but the sword’s point blocks his path.

‘I’m not going,’ says Chalk. ‘I want to see.’

The Vagrant shakes his head.

‘I want to see you kill him.’

The Vagrant shakes his head, horrified, then grabs Chalk by the arm and throws him outside. He slams the door shut, sealing himself and Griggsy within.

Outside, Chalk hurls himself against the door but it doesn’t budge. The other children stand in a daze. After a few moments one of them shivers. Vesper watches them all with high eyebrows.

Muffled screams penetrate the battered door and light pulses around its edge. When the door opens again, Griggsy stumbles outside, weeping, meek. The Vagrant follows quickly, sword pressing against the man’s back. He stops only to look at Harm. Understanding passes between them and the green-eyed man addresses the children. ‘We’re leaving now. You can go home or you can come with us if you want.’

They look at him, faces asking what words dare not.

Harm crouches to their eye level. ‘You won’t have to do what you did before, I promise.’

They descend the stairs, children trailing after. This time nothing is thrown or said, the gangs eerily quiet.

As they emerge from the street the guard rushes to meet them. With growing panic she notes the wounded man, the streak of dirty children, the winged sword. A square of light flicks nervously into life at her throat. ‘Captain, I need you out here. Right now.’

In a three-sided room, in front of a triangular table, an injured man kneels. The Vagrant holds him there.

The Council of Three sit at the table, two voices competing for dominance: The Captain and the Dockmaster. Both are angry. Protocols have been ignored, feathers ruffled. Yuren sits between them while they demand answers, hands over his face.

Axler stands, pressing fists on blackened glass. ‘We’ll get this filth processed and then you can explain to us why a Seraph Knight is aboard, and why you chose to hide him from us.’

‘Indeed,’ agrees Roget.

Yuren looks up, resigned, his gaze on the accused. ‘Fourth Circleman Griggs, your crimes are severe. The punishments will match them. Have you anything to say?’

Roget snorts. ‘There’s nothing to say. Death’s too good for him.’

The Vagrant nudges the accused with his boot.

‘Yes,’ Griggsy says. ‘I did them things. I don’t deny it but I wasn’t alone and I weren’t at the top.’

‘Who was?’ demands Axler.

The Vagrant’s boot insists again. Griggsy mutters: ‘He was.’

Yuren pales. ‘Who was?’

Griggsy glances up, furtive, then down again. He shakes his head. ‘I can’t say.’ The Vagrant’s fingers dig deeper into the man’s shoulder and his face crumples. ‘It was him.’ He gasps, pointing a charred hand at the Dockmaster.

Roget speaks quickly, ‘Nonsense, this man is clearly just saying that to—’ He sees the sword shake at the Vagrant’s side and lets out a long sigh. ‘So be it. It’s true. Before you cast any judgements, remember that I’ve kept everyone fed and resourced our escape.’ He sees the look of shock on the other men’s faces and his own reddens with indignation. ‘Don’t look so pious! You said yourselves that I’ve worked miracles. Well, miracles have a price and now you know what it is.’ He stands up, long fingers pressing tip to tip. ‘So let’s end this farce now and get back to more important jobs.’

As he turns to leave, the Vagrant stares at Yuren, expectant.

The old man looks distraught. ‘I can’t. We need him. There’s nothing I can do.’

‘There’s plenty I can do.’ Axler’s fists grind against the desk.

Roget shakes his head. ‘Don’t be so sure. Without me there is no Silicate4, no nappies, no fresh vegetables, no hazard spray—’ he looks at Yuren ‘—no pain meds.’

Yuren slumps forward, burying his head. Again, Roget goes to leave but guards step forward from their corners, alert for orders. Axler makes a cutting motion with his hand. ‘Take them both away.’

Arms are pulled back, sharp and hard. Griggsy weeps. Roget grits his teeth. ‘I make this machine work! This operation can’t run without me! And when the payments aren’t made, they’ll want to know why, and they’ll come.’ He keeps talking, even as they drag him out. ‘You’ll regret this, I promise.’

A squire sits on the steps of a house, enjoying the dawn. In his arms a baby sleeps. He finds himself talking anyway, a stream of consciousness that roves from qualities of the sky, through thoughts about life, to worries and predictions of what will be.

The world turns slowly, taking its time, making the morning stretch, calm, perfect.

Vesper emerges from some trees, well away from the main path. Water drips from his hair and fingertips, squelching in his boots. It obscures the blood on his clothes.

He raises his hand at the sight of his friend and the squire waves back. ‘I have had the worst night ever!’ he exclaims and flops down next to him. Old frustrations melt away and speech comes easily, the banter of old friends excited with each other.

‘There were more Dogspawn, a whole pack of the bastards.’ Vesper leans forward, resting his forehead on his palms. ‘I led them away as far as I could and tried to shake them off but they kept finding me. I tried wiping mud over myself but that didn’t work. I was getting desperate, so I thought, maybe mud isn’t a strong enough smell …’

The other squire raises an eyebrow.

‘I found this puddle of shit, I don’t even want to think about what made it, and I rolled about in the stuff.’ His friend tries to stifle laughter, not wanting to wake the baby. Tears run down his cheeks. ‘Anyway, that’s between you and me, okay! It’s not going to be part of the legend.’

His friend begs to disagree and soon they are laughing again.

‘Hold on … hold on,’ says Vesper, gasping for breath. ‘That isn’t the end of the story. So I’m hiding there, stinking of suns know what.’ He holds up a finger. ‘Don’t laugh, or I’ll never finish! When I hear those things howling again, closer than ever. They could track me anyway! I was getting worried now, really worried. One of the pack found me and we fought. Needless to say, I defeated it but I knew the rest of the pack wouldn’t be far behind. Then I had another idea. I stuck my hands into the thing’s guts and smeared its blood over me. I figured they were hunting a person not each other.’

The other squire’s movement is slight, sliding away less than a foot but the space between them is palpable.

‘You think I might be tainted? Like Tammy?’ Vesper lets out a long slow breath. ‘Me too. Do you think Attica was right to kill her? I mean if I start to lose it in the head, I want you to put me out of my misery, of course I do. Will you do that? For me?’

The squire looks pained but nods.

‘Thanks. I’d do the same for you. The thing is, if I just go a bit of a funny colour, or my veins stick out too much, well, I could live with that. I’ve heard that there are loads of tainted living in New Horizon and they seem alright. Might be that there’s a cure somewhere. Do you think Tammy would have been okay if she’d lived? Do you think …’ Vesper looks away. ‘Whatever happens I don’t regret it. When it’s a choice between death now or death later, I’ll take later every time.’

Yellow and red light blends together on their faces, warming. For a time they say nothing, thoughts trapped in closed mouths. As ever, Vesper is the first to break the silence.

‘So this is my child. What is it, a girl?’

The squire nods.

‘She looks a bit like me, don’t you think?’

The squire smiles, shakes his head.

‘Well, there is a bit of her mother in there too. I reckon she’ll be a knockout when she grows up, having such good-looking parents!’ He winks, reaches for the baby, hesitates. ‘I better not touch her, you know, just in case. Is Reela alright?’ He lets out another sigh at his friend’s assurance. ‘Sleeping I’ll bet. She loves her sleep! Not like me. I can never get up early enough.’ He rubs vigorously at his eyes. ‘Saying that, I could sleep now. I’m so tired! I took a long route, skirting the far side of the village, washed myself as best I could and took another winding route home. I walked through every stream I came across, did my best to hide my tracks and, when I was a mile or so away, I waited, just in case. I don’t know how long I sat in those bushes. It got so cold that for a while I thought I’d die of exposure, which would have been completely unheroic. Nothing came for me. At first light I figured I was in the clear and came to find you.’ A yawn splits his face, then another. ‘I’m just going to sit here for a while in case anything comes back, rest my eyes. Hopefully we’ve seen the last of them, at least till nightfall. Wake me if anything bad happens.’