‘Do you want me to take over yet?’ Jeza asked eventually, as the streets became sparser, more barren, devoid of notable buildings until they were at the limits of the city. ‘Do you want to head back?’
‘Not a chance,’ came the reply.
Brynd was clearly enjoying himself. They drifted into open country, past smallholdings and larger farmhouses. Out here there were few walls to avoid, and as a result he simply let go of the reins altogether.
‘Are you crazy?’ Jeza snapped. ‘Pick them up again.’
‘I want to see where she wants to go herself. I want to know what she thinks.’
‘That’s a bad idea!’ Jeza snapped.
‘Now who’s scared?’ came Brynd’s smug response.
The Mourning Wasp began to bank a little higher, at tree level now, gliding above the snow-covered hills. Her speed increased and, at one point, they spotted two pterodettes flying alongside before they fell back, unable to keep up. The wind was stronger here. Jeza’s heart skipped a few beats — she had not been prepared for Brynd letting go. Yet the wasp seemed to enjoy the freedom: she slowed down along the sides of an iced-up river, and drifted lazily along one of the tributaries, until she met the open sea. There, he took the reins again: and steered her back towards the ground, towards the city, whereupon they picked up speed to race the final few streets home.
Outside the factory, Brynd pulled on the reins with confidence. The wasp lowered her legs straight away, barely waiting for them to stop, and shuddered to a standstill. As they dismounted Brynd stumbled slightly, probably dizzy from the speed, as Jeza was herself, despite being more used to it.
Brynd took off his helm and ruffled his hair. He was laughing. He looked back at the wasp in disbelief, then walked a slow circle around it.
‘I can’t believe how you just trusted her like that,’ Jeza said. ‘We could have fallen off at high speed.’
‘It wouldn’t have been a bad way to go,’ he smiled. ‘You never once took the reins off me. You could have reached over to slow her at any point. You didn’t, because you knew she’d be OK.’
‘That’s not the point,’ Jeza replied. ‘I didn’t think we were ready for that.’
‘I’m not the sort of person who hangs back worrying about those sorts of things. It seemed right to let the lady have a go herself. So this. . Mourning Wasp, is her name? She really is breathtaking.’
Jeza managed to remember to smile. ‘You like her then?’
‘I didn’t understand half of what you said when you talked about resurrecting her, nor do I really want to know. I think she’s the most important creature I’ve seen in a long time.’
‘Do you reckon you’d be interested in buying more of her?’
‘Yes. Without a doubt. How many more do you have?’
‘Four, but you can have as many as you need,’ Jeza told him. ‘Now we’ve established the design, the technology is based on the same replicating principle as the armour, more or less. We’ve two more Mourning Wasps in the basement. I could make a few in a day.’
‘The military will require many of these,’ he said, more sternly now. ‘I want the Night Guard to familiarize themselves with this urgently. And tomorrow I’d like to commence their training.’
‘We’ve not talked about money,’ Jeza reminded him.
The look in Brynd’s eyes suggested that money was an irrelevance. ‘You can have what you need. I hope you know our payments are valid.’
‘The best in the city.’
‘Good,’ he replied. Then he stood in front of her and gave his most serious look of the evening. ‘Jeza, when the war is over, consider all of you at the factory to be friends of the Night Guard. If you ever seek employment, you have my word, you’ll have a place at my side.’
‘He said what?’ Coren muttered.
‘A place at his side. Employment. Jobs for life, or something like that.’ Jeza looked across the breakfast table.
‘Who wants to work for the fucking Empire?’ Coren asked. ‘We make our own rules.’
‘I know,’ Jeza replied. ‘I’m just telling you what he told me, all right?’
‘Cool it, Coren,’ Diggsy said, palming the air. ‘Jeza’s right to build relationships like that. That albino’s the most important man in the city, and we’ve got him in the palms of our hands. That’s pretty incredible, right?’
‘Maybe,’ Coren grunted.
‘Good,’ Diggsy said.
‘Did you bring the wasp down to the basement?’ Jeza asked.
‘Yeah, through the rear doors. She seemed fine.’
‘They want to bring the whole Night Guard here tomorrow to learn how to ride the Mourning Wasp,’ Jeza said.
Coren shook his head.
‘What?’ Jeza demanded. ‘You wanted me to negotiate deals, we negotiate deals — quite a big deal this time, if you must know. They want more wasps made, hence the training.’
Everyone else seemed jubilant, except Coren.
‘Just feels too close to the military,’ he grunted. ‘We wanted to be free to do our own things, not be slaves to soldiers.’
‘Yeah, well, we need money to be free in this city, and the military pays the best rates going. We just have to deal with it. Besides, I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels guilty we didn’t play our part in the last war. This is our chance to help them defend the city.’
‘She’s right,’ Diggsy muttered. ‘Leave things be, Coren.’
Coren exchanged a strange glance with Diggsy then. Jeza made a mental note to follow that up later.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she said, ‘it’s been a long night and I want to be ready for the Night Guard tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be up soon,’ Diggsy said, still locked in that weird exchange with Coren.
It was late when she shambled about the top floor in her nightwear, wondering what book to read before she went to sleep. She walked barefoot, hardly making a noise. Moonlight came through the shutters in slices, and she saw two figures move in the shadows on the floor below. Crouching, concealing herself behind a metal post, she peered down.
Pilli and Diggsy were embracing, their lips touching.
Her heart stopped. She swallowed. Welled up. She forced herself to take a second glance to confirm the betrayal, then shuffled away into the darkness.
After she entered the bedroom she reached for a bottle of vodka, sat on the edge of the bed, took three huge, eye-stinging slurps from the bottle, and that was OK because she knew she was crying then anyway, could feel the tears streaming down her face. She struggled to take in breaths.
‘That’s not how to deal with it.’ Coren lingered in the doorway, his body in darkness. He walked towards her, then sat on the floor at a distance.
When she could manage it, she asked, ‘How long have you known?’
‘’Bout ten or so days.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Thought Diggsy would sort himself out. Also, was a little scared of what might happen should Pilli suddenly decide to up sticks and leave.’
‘What. .? What do you mean?’
‘Her dad owns this place. If she fucks off, who knows what would happen to us?’
‘I didn’t think.’ Jeza cradled the bottle. ‘What should we do?’
‘Drinking now will make it worse. That’s not how you get control over the situation.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
‘You just asked me!’ Coren continued in an even gentler tone, a level of softness she didn’t know he possessed. ‘Sleep in my bed tonight.’
‘Nice try.’
‘Not even I’m that obvious,’ he replied. ‘I’m off out to see one of those late-night poets in Saltwater. Friend of mine — last on. Take my room, I’ll bring in a load of cheap food and pass out in the kitchen. No one will spot the difference.’