She shrugged her shoulders. “Not much, I’d imagine. It’s the Cuttlefolk they’re interested in.”
“And should we be interested in them as well?”
“That remains to be seen. If the treaties still hold, it’s not a problem, but…”
“Yes,” Medicine said. “What ever happened to those trains?”
Four days from the Margin they found out in part.
The Grendel, and its carriages, sat hulking and motionless upon the tracks. The engine of the locomotive was intact, but for some minor damage. The carriages, too, were undisturbed, though blood stained one of the doors and a window or two had been shattered.
Agatha sent a dozen of her soldiers to search through the silent train. She and Medicine walked to the engine, the metal had been scored in places by gunshot.
“There’s ammunition and food in here, but no sign of life. What could have happened to them?”
“I think I know,” Medicine said, and pointed beyond the train.
“Oh,” Agatha’s voice was soft
He did not like this one little bit.
Out of the grass they came, five hundred Cuttlefolk at least, every one of them armed. Guns and sickles gleaming like death in the air. Behind them hovered their aerial troops, messengers armed with grenades and pistols.
“We could take out a few of them,” Agatha said, though she did not sound hopeful.
Medicine looked at his people, gathered beside the train. As one they pressed back against the rising slope of the trackbed.
Alone, Medicine might have suggested a last ditch, backs to the wall, shoot out. But he owed it to them, they had trusted him, this was nothing about his allegiance to Stade, but to the people who had made it with him through the Margin.
“No more pointless deaths, eh.”
Agatha followed his gaze, and frowned.
“If there’s still a chance,” he said, “we must take it. Isn’t that what the Underground is about?”
“You’re right, too many have died already. But, what if we have condemned them to slavery…”
“Even in slavery hope remains.”
“Have you ever been a slave?” Agatha said quietly, then she raised her voice. “Lower your weapons,” she shouted to her men.
Medicine watched the Cuttlefolk, they did not relax, nor lower their guns, but neither did they fire. He had to take some comfort in that, surely.
Chapter 45
When the Roil finally made its move it was swifter than anyone expected, perhaps, even in those late days, swifter than could have been imagined.
When the Roil approached Chapman, it approached it definitively and in a way that made even the Grand Defeat seem like the smallest gambit, the merest assault.
“All this sitting around is killing me,” Margaret said.
“Cadell told us to wait,” David said, but he didn’t sound too pleased with the idea. He’d packed his and Cadell’s belongings into the Roslyn Dawn and they’d been waiting hours. Dawn wasn’t far off.
Margaret got up from her seat and walked over to David.
“Waiting is what I did last time. I waited for my parents until it was too late. Cadell has been gone for hours, he may be in trouble.”
“And what are we going to do?” David asked.
“Be a little quieter,” Kara Jade yelled from the nearby bed. “I’m trying to bloody sleep.”
Margaret turned her gaze towards Kara. The girl was really starting to annoy her. It was not as though it were difficult to fly in an Aerokin. Kara was little more than a glorified and spoiled passenger. As for quiet, she was the one who’d been banging around inside the Dawn, driving any hope of sleep from Margaret. If anyone should shut up it was Kara.
“We’ll be quiet,” Margaret said. “David, you and I are going to the Council of Engineers.”
“Do we have to?”
“Cadell needs us, I’m sure of it.”
“You didn’t see the way he handled those Quarg Hounds,” David said. “Though I’ll admit that councillors are different.”
Kara Jade coughed and Margaret and David turned to her. She was out of her bunk and scowling. Margaret groaned inwardly at the pout she directed at David. The foolish boy did not even notice it.
“Whatever you’re doing, do it now,” Kara said. “If you can’t find him, or if he is in trouble, come back here immediately.”
“And you’ll help us?” David asked.
Kara Jade nodded. “Help us get the hell out of here. I’m nervous now, I’ve been through the Obsidian Curtain. I have no intention of sticking around when it comes rushing over the walls, besides you’ve paid your passage.”
“We won’t be long,” Margaret said.
“Good.” Kara Jade was already ducking back into her bunk.
“I can’t stand her,” Margaret said as they made their way through the Field of Flight.
“I don’t think she’s that fond of you either,” David said.
What? How could anyone not like me?
“I could strangle her in one hand with my eyes closed.”
“Exactly,” David said.
Seemed most of the city couldn’t sleep this night, the dry heat and the looming festival keeping everyone awake. Everywhere ships and Aerokin bobbed, Drifter’s voices boomed, boasts becoming ever more outrageous as the countdown to the Festival proper began.
“She’s all right,” David said. “For a Drifter she seems much more normal than I would have thought possible.”
Margaret put her back to him, taking the lead so he wouldn’t see her grinding her teeth. She was sick of such talk… of talk in general. It surprised her how, after yearning for conversation for so long she had quickly grown tired of it. Starved of it, more than a few minutes of conversation proved too rich for her.
“I know a shortcut,” she said, and kept up her pace.
She had gone to the Tower of the Council of Engineers several times over the last few days, pausing at its doorway, unable to enter. She had wanted to, but far too many doubts assailed her. Both Anderson and her father had told her to trust no one. The one person Anderson had suggested, this Medicine Paul, had long ago lost influence in Chapman. She’d actually come across several wanted posters with his face on them.
David stumbled behind her. Margaret heard him curse beneath his breath, he was always stumbling over things. She smiled. For some odd reason, she trusted David. He was so unlike anyone she had ever known. All her life capable people had surrounded her, certain of their abilities and certain of hers, David seemed anything but. However, she knew he would not let her down. His shot at the Quarg Hound had proven that to her. She could count on him.
That is if he did not trip over and kill himself.
She wiped her brow, and her fingers came away covered in soot-blackened sweat.
The morning was hot, particularly down on the dusty streets, not a breath of air and the walls looming above. Round the levies where small leaks dripped into the night, too fast for the sun to leach away all the water, sludgy green ponds gave birth to mosquitoes, clouds of them to compete with the flies, nipping and sucking at blood or sweat. She had left her cold suit back at the Dawn, there was little charge remaining and she did not want to waste it. Unfortunately what passed for women’s fashion in this city was uncomfortable and impractical, frills, long skirts and hats. She had borrowed some of Kara Jade’s clothes, flight leathers, a thin scarf and cape, beneath which she had concealed her weapons, except a couple of guns, because most Drifters walked the city armed. She had to look the part though her skin was too pale.
Looking like a Drifter did not appeal to her, but it meant that she did not stand out too much. No more than the usual Drifter, and they loved to stand out.
They reached the Tower of Engineers, by way of nearly every back alley and side-street in the city. The heat of the day had seeped into everything, and by the time they found a hiding space with a clear view of the tower both were hot and tired.