Watcher's Web (17 page)

How had they
come in? What had they done with the soldiers who guarded the door?
And what were they doing here?

But there was
a more important thing she wanted to ask now she had the chance.
“Show me how to do this.” She pressed her hands together before her
face. “I need to talk to this man.”

Ikay spoke
enthusiastic words, and pushed Jessica down on the table, settling
opposite her, also on the table. Backlit by light coming in through
the window, Ikay looked like a ghost.

Jessica willed
the heat into her hands. It fought her, sparks breaking out all
over her skin, eerily visible in the dark. Pengali voices chatted
in urgent tones. Jessica kept her hands together, clenching her
jaws.

Sparks floated
from her hands in an incoherent pattern. The heat went everywhere
except into her palms. She gave a frustrated cry. “Why can’t I do
it? Why?”

Ikay took
Jessica’s hands in hers, speaking soothing words. A long index
finger traced a path over Jessica’s inner arm, leaving a faint glow
in its wake. She did the same thing with Jessica’s other arm, then
put her palms together and traced paths along the outside of her
arms. When she had reached Jessica’s hands, she started again at
the elbows.

Jessica closed
her eyes and tried to push heat up her arms each time Ikay traced
her fingers along her arms.

There was
something calming about the touch of Ikay’s fingers.

Jessica tried
to dip into that feeling of purpose, pouring all her being into
just a small spot between her hands. Her nose itched. It irritated
her and she broke her concentration to rub it with her arm. Ikay
spoke a few admonishing words.

Jessica
steeled herself.

Try again.
This time, calm came over her as soon as she closed her eyes. The
spot where the light was meant to go stood out clearly in her mind.
Her skin warmed. Images swirled before her eyes. Darkness, spots of
light, a sensation of movement. There was that man again. She tried
to draw her consciousness to him, but a current dragged her along a
different strand, as if she had fallen into a fast-flowing river.
Her hands warmed, glowed and seared with pain. Damn it!

She jumped up,
flapping her hands to cool them.

Ikay spoke a
few stern words; the others just watched.

Was this
painful for Ikay, too?

Well—painful
or not, she was going to learn how to do this. She pressed her
hands together once more, closed her eyes and again focused on a
spot between them.

The room
faded.

*     *     *

Cold. Snow. A
howling wind.

Jessica
shivered.

Daya pulled
the hood of his fur cloak down over his forehead. His field of
vision became restricted to the broad back of the woman in front of
him. He stood in some sort of line. The biting wind carried shards
of talk over the high scream of propulsor jets and the howl of hot
air cannons. Daya stamped his feet, wishing those cannons warmed
him instead of the shuttle’s engines.

Just his luck
that a passenger service had come in on his tail. By the time he
had shut off and cooled the engines of his craft, packed and locked
up, the line of waiting passengers stretched out of the
building.

Jessica
probed into his thoughts.
Who are you? Where are you?

He drifted off
into thought, and his mind was filled with sloshing water, and
boats, and warm air.

She
tried,
Are you
looking for me? You’re in the wrong place.

He looked at
the soldier standing guard at the building, and she could sense he
felt like someone had called his name.

That’s
right—can you hear me?

“Hey, friend.”
The man behind him tapped Daya’s shoulder.

A large gap
had opened in the queue in front of him. The broad-backed woman and
her companion were at the door to the hall. Daya covered the
distance in a few strides, meeting a stiff-faced soldier.
“Identity, please.”

Daya produced
his Union citizenship card from his pocket. The man raised his
eyebrows, took it, and went inside the building.

Another
soldier, a group commander judging by the dots on his tunic, waited
at the door, and now spoke to the couple. “How long do you plan to
stay?”

“Not freakin’
long at all,” the woman said, while her companion muttered, in a
heavy accent, “We stay two days . . . sister-daughter’s
wedding.”

A junior
soldier sat at a table copying the man’s reply onto a card by hand.
By hand. No wonder this took so long. At the entrance to the Hedron
settlement, a simple show of Daya’s amber-stone earrings would let
him through the first line of controls, a communicator strip on the
back of his citizenship pass automatically registered his presence.
No need to show anybody anything.

The soldier
who had taken Daya’s pass came back. He nudged the senior soldier
at the door, whose blue eyes glanced at Daya, and moved the couple
on with an impatient wave, then pressed Daya’s citizenship card in
his hands. He extended both hands palm up in a formal greeting. “We
are highly honoured that a businessman such as yourself graces us
with a visit. Would you like to accompany my men to your
accommodation?”

Daya returned
his official greeting but wondered what had earned him this
attention. He had not come on an official mission and had not let
anyone know he was coming; his uncle didn’t know he was here, he
had not even applied for a permit before he left.

Jessica
tried again.
Were you
looking for me? You’re in the wrong place.

Daya’s
thoughts didn’t waver. Official accommodation was a lot better than
spending the night in a crowded guesthouse and eating bean soup and
mass-baked fish bread. Sticky, doughy, pale rolls, heavy with the
rancid tang of fish meal.

The two
soldiers led the way into the hall, parting crowds of waiting
people, luggage hastily dragged aside. Three more guards idled at
the building’s exit into the city streets, metal crossbows slung
across their backs.

The
thick-walled buildings of the old city lined the street beyond,
whitewashed walls with slits for windows. Grey clouds scudded low
over the roofs.

By the time
they had come to the city’s central square, flakes of snow bit into
Daya’s face. The dark shapes of the council buildings and library
rose on the other side of the Foundation monument, a pentagonal
platform with pillars on the corners. Merchants and buyers shuffled
in and out of the market hall.

The soldiers
led Daya up the steps to the council buildings under an archway.
Glad to be out of the wind, Daya lowered his hood. In the
courtyard, fire light flickered behind the upper floor windows of a
turret; all the other windows were dark. One of the soldiers bowed
and gestured at the door to the turret, beyond which a spiral
staircase led up out of sight.

Daya climbed,
his footsteps echoing off the portrait-studded, and tapestry-hung
walls. The special guest quarters.

At the top of
the stairs, he came out into a large high-ceilinged room. Directly
opposite the landing, a roaring fire burned in the fireplace, its
orange glow gilding the dark slate, fur rugs and soft couches
arranged around it. A low table was laden with books and a bowl of
fruit. The smells mingled with the scent of smoke. Juni, hanga,
feruzan, pricey foreign goods which, like the heavy wooden table,
would have been imported by Miran’s formidable Traders.

On another
table stood a covered tray and a basket of fish bread. The scent of
well-made bean soup mingled with that of burning straw bricks.

One of the
soldiers had followed him up. He bowed. Snowflakes in his hair had
melted into diamond-drops of water. “I hope these quarters are to
your satisfaction. You will find the private rooms off the
hall.”

Daya forced a
smile. Why had they decided that he was an official visitor? “Thank
you. I’m actually here to visit someone who has recently relocated
to Miran—”

Not
relocated. I’m not where you’re looking for me.

“You will have
to speak to my superior about that.”

“That’s very
kind, but not necessary. I know my way around.”

“My supervisor
insists you shouldn’t go out by yourself. We’ve had some problems
here concerning . . . foreigners. Only a few days ago, a
visiting merchant was killed just outside the markets. Please wait
until we can provide an escort.” He gestured at the table. “Your
meal is ready. It’s warm in here.”

Daya glanced
at the window, where the glow of the fire in the hearth reflected
against the backdrop of the leaden sky outside. He nodded. “All
right.”

The soldier
bowed again. “Then have a good night.”

Daya sat down
on the floor by the hearth. Held out his hands to soak up the
warmth, held his hands closer, and closer, until the flames licked
his skin. Heat flowed through him, through her.

*     *     *

Jessica
whispered, “What—” The Pengali in the room stared at her. Her
cheeks throbbed with heat. She brought a hand to her ears; they
felt hot, too.

Once more, she
pressed her hands together in front of her face. She closed her
eyes and concentrated on the spot between them. Her skin grew warm.
She braced herself for pain but if there was any, she didn’t feel
it.

*     *     *

A steady
stream of energy flowed into his hands. His skin glowed soft green.
The light peeped through the cracks between his fingers. When he
moved his hands apart, it flooded the room with brightness.

*     *     *

And flooded
the dank apartment’s living room. Jessica took in its eerie beauty.
She cupped the light in both hands, her lips moving in a whisper,
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

All the
strands of energy curled into one. They no longer flailed where she
couldn’t control them.

Soft spots of
glow lit up here and there amongst the Pengali in the room, weak
like candles in the floodlight hovering above her outstretched
hands. “I did it. Ikay, I contacted him.” No matter that she hadn’t
yet managed to get a reply. That would come with practice. She
rose, holding the light aloft. “I did it, I did it.”

The Pengali
spoke in excited voices. A young female kneeled on the floor, her
head bowed. Another Pengali, a male, unwrapped a parcel, spreading
a hearty scent of soup. He came to stand next to the female who
still crouched on the floor, and held a bowl out to Jessica.

Her legs
trembling, Jessica clambered off the table, holding the light
aloft. The other Pengali had lined up on either side of the male,
who still held out the bowl. She recognised the scene from the
frieze. Goodness knew how many years ago, her ancestors had fled
and when they arrived in this area, hungry and dishevelled, the
Pengali had offered them hospitality.

She had seen a
memory of Ikay on the beach, offering the bowl to an imaginary
person. The Pengali might repeat that ceremony every year, until
someone from those people came back.

I am
here now.

Jessica took
the bowl from the male’s hands. The soup tasted salty, with the
tang of fish. While she drank, no one spoke, but more and more
Pengali slipped into the room from the courtyard and even through
the window, some adding their lights to the increasing glow
floating near the ceiling. They stood, silent, watching her sip the
steaming soup. History replayed. Her name was Anmi and she
represented her ancestors. After so many years, Jessica had never
expected to find anything about where she came from. Tears pricked
in her eyes.

A man’s voice
disturbed the silence. Footsteps. A slamming door. Someone shouted
in the courtyard.

Lights
flickered and went out, returning the room to darkness. A tall
figure entered the room, a mere silhouette. Someone clanged down
the lever on the light, bathing the room in a harsh glow.

The figure was
a soldier, his crossbow raised.

Pengali
scrambled to their feet, and tripped over boxes in their efforts to
get out of the way. A male flung himself under the table, a female
ducked behind boxes, a few made for the door. One jumped onto the
windowsill, and then up onto the roof, until his tail disappeared
from sight. The soldier shouted. A male voice in the courtyard
replied.

Jessica
thunked down the bowl and jumped forward, pushing the Pengali back
from the door, her arms spread wide. “No, no, stay here. There’re
more soldiers out there. Someone will get hurt.”

A young boy
ducked under her arms. He reached the door only to crash into a
second soldier, who clamped a muscled arm around his neck until the
boy made choking sounds. Then an older Pengali female burst in,
shouting a war cry. She grabbed a stool from next to the door and
hit the soldier over the back. He released the boy, swung around
and backhanded her across the face. She shrieked. With a great cry,
another female jumped out from behind the boxes: Alla. There was a
glitter of a knife, and the guard fell back against the wall,
clutching his shoulder. Blood spread over his tunic.

The other
soldier shouted and raised the crossbow, which didn’t appear to be
loaded.

Alla and the
soldier regarded each other in complete silence. Alla’s tail waved
threateningly at shoulder level. The soft moans of the soldier’s
injured colleague as he attempted to get up were the only sounds in
the room.

The
soldier’s hands tightened around the release mechanism of the
crossbow. With a metallic
zhing,
a
metal bolt shot into position from a magazine underneath the slide.
A tingle drifted on the breeze, and chilled Jessica’s skin.
Somewhere close by something drew energy.