‘“Scragging”,’ Luis reflected back. ‘Come a long way, haven’t you? But there are times when it slips, Radcliffe. Your mouth’s like a Whitechapel sewer.’
Radcliffe curled his lip. ‘Takes one to know one, Valienté. You’ll even be comfortable for a while, you and your families, down here in the dark.’ He straightened up. ‘But when the last of you dies, in this cellar or another, that will be the end of it. So much for the Knights of Discorporea. Ha!’
‘We’ll see,’ said Fraser Burdon.
‘What’s that?’
Burdon looked over at Hackett and Luis. ‘Widdershins,’ he said.
Hackett snapped, ‘What? Impossible, man. We’re in a damn cellar.’
Burdon shrugged, and his shackles rattled. ‘Suit yourself. You with me, Luis? On my count. One, two—’
Luis, unbelieving, Waltzed—
And found himself in another hole in the ground, this one rough-walled, in a dark relieved only by the light of candles. But his shackles were gone – and so was his chair, and, emerging into thin air in a sitting posture, he fell back on to a rocky floor with a jolt hard enough to make his head throb anew.
He struggled to rise. ‘Burdon? Hackett?’
‘Valienté?’ It was Hackett’s voice; he must be as bewildered as Luis, and was ten years older too, but he had his customary tone of command. ‘Just sit tight.’ He held up a candle to reveal crudely cut walls all around, and what might be a wooden-lined shaft up to the surface. The two of them were alone in here. Hackett asked, ‘Where the devil are we?’
And Luis laughed, and lay back on the cold ground. ‘In a mine. I see it now – a mine cut by Burdon; we mined together in America, remember? We’re in a shaft in a stepwise parallel of Windsor. That’s how you Waltz out of a cellar. By staking out the ground in advance, and cutting a hole in the precise same location widdershins.’
‘My God, you must be right. But Burdon must have planned this months, even years ahead! Knowing that some day he’d need it. What a suspicious mind the man must have.’
‘He was right, though, wasn’t he?’
‘So he was … Where is he, by the way? Why’s he not in here with us? Now I see I always underestimated him. Won’t make that mistake again.’
There was a slight puff of air that made the candles flicker. Burdon stepped out of the shadows and walked forward into the candlelight.
Hackett demanded, ‘What have you been up to, man? Why didn’t you come over with us?’
‘Well, I did. But once I was free of those iron shackles I took a few paces and went back.’ He held up something, a blade, dripping dark. ‘A detail I needed to tidy up.’
‘Oh, Burdon,’ Luis said, feeling oddly disappointed. ‘You killed them?’
‘Only that bastard Radcliffe. And he deserved it, don’t you think? For what he did to those wretches in the coffins and the underwater cages. For what he intended to do to our families.’
‘Our families,’ Hackett said. ‘We must get out of this cellar, walk somewhere we can Waltz back safely—’
‘I’ve got the area signposted,’ Burdon said. ‘A one-to-one map. A bit rough but it will do.’
‘Good man. We get back over. We get our families to safety. And then—’
‘Yes?’
‘And then we consider the future. For us, our families. And our “kind”, as Mr Radcliffe called us.’
Luis thought he had never heard such a grim tone of voice from Hackett before. Yet he was right; the path ahead was clear – the only path they could take now. They must run to their families, and hide from the government’s assassins.
Gingerly, in the flickering light of the candles, he got to his feet.
Nelson, having learned as much as he felt he needed to, went in search of Joshua.
But according to the most reliable source on Joshua’s whereabouts, the Home in Madison, Joshua was gone, vanished once more into the deep Long Earth.
25
THE MAN STANDING at the door of the Berg house, here in Miami West 4, was aged maybe twenty-five – seven or eight years older than Rocky and Stan. He wore a battered wide-brimmed hat, leather jacket, scuffed jeans, heavy-duty moccasins. He had a pack on his back, and at his waist he carried a rolled-up whip, a Stepper box, and some kind of handgun. He looked ready for travel, Rocky Lewis thought immediately. Too ready, like a cartoon.
The guy stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Jules van Herp. Born in Datum Quebec; my family evacuated because of Yellowstone when I was eight. Call me Jules.’ He grinned at Rocky. ‘So, you ready for the Grange?’
Rocky winced, and glanced around to see if they’d been overheard. In the months since Stan had first been approached by Roberta Golding, the one thing that had been drummed into them was how secretive the Next were. You didn’t even say the name of the Grange out loud. And now here was this clumsy character just blurting it out.
Stan emerged from the house, carrying a pack, blinking in the light. It was early morning here in West 4, and the sun was just rising beyond the thin sky-piercing thread of the space elevator. He stood by Rocky and inspected Jules van Herp. ‘Well, you’re not one of them,’ Stan said dryly. ‘Not with a dopy expression like that.’
‘Oh, hell no. I just work for them. I’m here to help with your trip.’
Stan scowled at him. ‘So if you’re not a Next, what are you, Jules? A native bearer?’
Rocky winced again. For a young man who was increasingly thought of in these parts as a source of wisdom, Stan could be brutally cruel. But then, Rocky thought, they were both still just seventeen.
Jules did not seem offended, however. ‘Just doing my job, and it’s a job I enjoy. I’ll take you to meet the others. Not far from here stepwise. I see you’ve got your pack. You won’t need much once you’re there, at the Grange. People always take more than they need, the first time. Some kind of comfort thing, I guess.’
Rocky asked, ‘You’ve done this before? Taken people there?’
‘A few times.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We do need to move, however. You understand you’ll be going through soft places?’
Rocky suppressed a shudder. ‘So we’ve been told.’
Jules grinned easily. ‘Don’t sweat it, it’s not so bad. Anyhow, you’re safe in their hands.’ His confidence in the Next seemed absolute, Rocky thought. ‘But the soft places aren’t like stepping. They’re limited in space and time; you have to hit the right moment.’
‘So we’ve appointments to keep.’
‘That’s it. Any more goodbyes you need to make?’
In fact, Rocky thought, as they’d waited for the Next to come take Stan away, it had been nothing but a long drawn-out goodbye for months.
‘No,’ Stan said simply. ‘It’s done. Let’s get on with it.’
So, hastily, very early this September morning – and grumpily, with Rocky’s head aching faintly from the last-night drinks party thrown by their buddies, who’d been told they were leaving to study beanstalk engineering techniques a couple of worlds away – with a stroke of their Stepper boxes they left Earth West 4 behind. Rocky watched the still incomplete space elevator vanish from his view, leaving the unspoiled sky of West 5.
Then, following Jules’s lead, they stepped again, and again. Stan was a natural stepper, who only carried a box for cover. Rocky was a lot less capable, but Roberta Golding had supplied industrial-strength anti-nausea drugs, and these first steps, at least, weren’t difficult.