| |
Nick reckoned he’d been locked in the vault for about three hours before he heard muffled voices. He scurried to the door and pressed his ear against the wood but only caught snatches of words. The bolt clanged and torchlight blazed through the doorway. A man stepped into view. Blinking against the sudden glare, Nick made a hasty retreat to the back wall of his cell.
‘Step outside, boy.’
It wasn’t Julian. This was the crackly voice of an old man.
‘Who are you?’ Nick asked.
‘My name’s Valerius.’
He moved aside and light slanted onto his features. He had scraggy grey hair, hard eyes the colour of ebony, and a wide slash of a mouth that was not, Nick imagined, too often moulded into a smile.
Valerius clicked his tongue. ‘Hurry up, boy. It’s late. I’m tired. I want to get this mess sorted so I can go back to bed.’
Nick peered into the corridor and saw Julian and the Bandála guard who’d punched him. Neither of them looked happy to see Nick free. Behind Valerius stood Artemis. Nick’s hope surged. Perhaps he’d get to speak to David after all.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ Valerius asked.
‘Nick.’
‘Your full name.’
He remembered David’s warning and didn’t reply.
‘Tell me, or I’ll put you back in that cell. And this time it will be for longer than a few hours.’
Artemis prompted Nick to respond with a subtle nod.
‘Alright. My name is Nicholas Kári Williams.’
He watched for their reactions. Artemis looked at him the same way the painted warriors had: like she was seeing a ghost. Julian raised his chin as if he’d smelled something disgusting. The Bandála guard gawped.
‘So...you’ve heard of me?’ Nick asked.
‘Nicholas Kári? Are you kidding?’ the guard blurted. ‘Of course! But that’s impossible. You’re supposed to be—’ He swallowed whatever words he was about to say when Valerius and Julian cast him warning glares.
‘Show me your tattoo, Nick,’ Valerius said, his grim stare unchanged.
Nick shrank away. ‘How did you know about—?’
‘Just show me!’
With trembling fingers, he tugged down his collar and said, ‘I’m not an Arai.’
‘I know,’ Valerius replied. He turned to the others and said, ‘You are all sworn to secrecy. If this information becomes public, I’ll know one of you three is to blame.’
The silence that followed was so charged with tension that Nick could almost feel the air spark.
Finally, Julian said, ‘Sir, he will need to prove his claim before the Council.’
‘Yes,’ Valerius replied, eyeing Nick with suspicion. ‘And until then, he must be kept in isolation.’
‘No!’ Nick skittered away from his cell door. ‘I’m not staying here. Let me speak to David. I mean, Rayámina. He can sort this out. He can tell you who I am.’
‘You will not see Rayámina until after the hearing,’ Valerius said.
‘The hearing? But I haven’t done anyth—’
Valerius held up a hand to silence him. ‘Artemis, do you know the consul suites next to the bathhouse?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Take the boy to the top floor and guard him until I send someone to relieve you.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Nick hurried after Artemis up the stairs, through an iron gate, and into the night air. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was out of the vaults, and with only Artemis to guard him. She carried a sword, but he could probably outrun her. He’d have to choose his moment carefully though.
Voices came from an open window, and Nick peered through to see several people crowding around broad tables. Candles perched on mantle shelves above a bar where a large red-faced woman was pouring pale gold liquid into bucket-sized mugs. One man began singing something incoherently, and soon everybody else joined the drunken chorus.
‘Anyone would think you’d never seen a pub before,’ Artemis said.
‘I haven’t. Not like that, anyway.’
They turned down an alley. Stars winked in the gaps between houses, and a new moon sailed above the roofs like a blood blister. In the distance, Nick heard drums beating, sticks clacking and the rhythmic jangle of bells.
‘What’s the music for?’ he asked.
‘It’s a fire night. The Bandála always celebrate when Rayámina returns after a long absence.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he’s leader of the Bandála.’
Nick staggered to a halt, blood rushing in his ears. ‘Leader?’
She stopped, turned, watched him. Said nothing.
All of a sudden, anger took hold. Why had David kept so much hidden? Why? Fuming, he strode away. He’d find David, and he’d demand to know everything. Every single detail.
He heard Artemis running up behind him and he broke into a sprint. He turned into an alley, ducked under an arch, and found himself in a walled courtyard. He rattled the handles of two doors but they were both locked, and when he spun around, he found Artemis blocking his escape.
‘There are Bandála soldiers within shouting distance,’ she warned, a hand resting on her sword hilt. ‘You either come with me and I make sure you get a hot meal and a bed, or you resist, I call for backup, and you spend the night in the vaults. Your choice.’
Nick pounded the wall in frustration. ‘I haven’t done anything!’
‘It’s not what you’ve done, Nick. It’s who you are.’
‘What does that even mean?’
She stared at him, stunned. ‘You don’t know?’
‘What don’t I know?’
Her coldness seemed to melt away. She straightened and took her hand off her weapon.
‘Home’s this way,’ she said, pointing.
‘What don’t I know?’
She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to answer.
‘This is not my home,’ he said, and brushed past her.
They walked in silence through a tangle of alleys, between sandstone houses that glowed with candlelight and abandoned ruins whose crumbling walls blacked out the stars. The city seemed to stretch on forever, and Nick guessed it was half an hour before a large cobbled square opened before them. Artemis crossed the space to a house that was much taller and nicer than the surrounding ones. She rapped on the door until a haggard old woman in a frayed dress appeared.
‘Is the top floor accommodation ready?’ Artemis asked.
The old woman nodded and stepped aside. Nick followed Artemis up the spiral stone steps and past two landings with closed doors. She stopped at the third storey. The stairs continued upwards to a trap door that Nick guessed led to the roof. Artemis opened the apartment door but didn’t enter.
‘Go and make yourself comfortable,’ she said, waving him towards the hallway. ‘I’ll be right here if you need me.’
Nick followed the tantalising smell coming from a far room and found an inviting kitchen, with a fire crackling in the wide stone fireplace and a polished ironbark table and chairs. In the pantry he found fresh fruit, ceramic spice jars, fine green crockery, and copper spoons and forks. Knives hung from hooks under the mantlepiece, and on a hot shelf in the fireplace was a baking dish full of juicy vegetables and roast duck.
Nick piled food onto a plate and added slices of fresh bread, which smelled faintly of honey. As he was about to tuck in, he wondered if Artemis had eaten dinner yet. He was inclined to ignore her, but he thought of how shocked Mía would be if he left a girl, even if she was a tough soldier, on the doorstep while he ate a delicious meal.
With a scowl, he stuck his head into the hallway and called, ‘Food’s ready.’
Artemis didn’t budge from her step.
‘Aren’t you allowed to eat while you’re on duty?’
She hesitated, then came to join him, stashing her sword in the hallway. She watched with something like awe as he piled food onto a second plate and shoved it towards her.
‘You know,’ he mumbled through a mouthful of something he guessed was sweet potato, ‘it tastes better if you actually eat it.’
Her plate was clean in five minutes flat.
After he’d finished, Nick leaned back in his chair and said, ‘That is the best meal I’ve had in days. Way better than char-grilled bugs and burnt roots.’
Artemis seemed about to say something but thought better of it and closed her mouth.
‘What’s this place called again?’ he asked, glancing around the kitchen.
‘It’s one of the consul suites.’
‘What’s a consul?’
She licked the grease off her fingers. ‘They’re the chief magistrates of Korelios. They used to stay in these apartments when Auremos was the Korelian capital.’
‘How come it’s not the Korelian capital anymore?’
She gave him a direct, piercing stare. ‘Because the Bandála seized control eighteen years ago and the Arai have never been able to win it back.’
Ignoring her sharp tone, Nick gestured to her uniform. ‘Why do the Bandála wear grey?’
‘It’s good for blending in. No matter who you are or where you’re from, once you’re in a Bandála uniform, you’re a greyskin.’
He thought he heard a twinge of pride in her voice.
‘Things work better that way. People respect the greyskin, even if the soldier wearing it is a deserter from Korelios.’
Nick sat up straight. ‘Deserter? You mean there are ex-Arai here in Auremos?’
‘Some, but they tend to keep quiet about their pasts.’
‘You mean because their heads will be put on spikes if they’re found out?’
‘Not the ones who’ve proven their loyalty to the Bandála.’
She shifted in her seat, and Nick heard a clink of metal like loose coins knocking together.
Leaning forward, he said, ‘You took them, didn’t you? The release keys.’
She studied him for a moment then set the two steel discs on the table.
‘Did you seriously think I’d use that inhibitor thing on someone?’
She lifted a shoulder. ‘I wasn’t sure. I had to take precautions.’
Nick turned one of the discs over. ‘What does an inhibitor do?’
‘Cuts off your maléya.’
David had explained a bit about maléya, but Nick still wasn’t exactly sure he understood, so he asked, ‘What’s maléya?’
Artemis blinked. ‘You don’t even know what maléya is?’
‘Well, I’ve got a vague idea. I only found out about it a few days ago.’
For a second, she seemed lost for words. Then she said, ‘But you’re supposed to know this. You’re Yándi. That’s why the inhibitor was invented. To neutralise your maléya so that you can’t defend yourself.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’re way more ignorant than I expected.’
The comment stung and Nick fell silent. He began stacking the dishes.
‘I’ll do that,’ Artemis said, reaching for the plates.
He pulled them away from her. ‘I was taught to wash up, you know. I’m not a complete idiot.’ He spotted a wooden bucket half-full of water by the fireplace, but no detergent or sponges. ‘Er...’
Artemis patted the end of the table. ‘Leave them here. Amaránta will get them later.’
‘Amaránta?’
‘You met her downstairs. She answered the door.’
He put the dishes down. Mía never allowed him to leave a single plate unwashed. She had strict rules regarding cleaning.
With a gulp, he pushed thoughts of Mía aside and cast around for something to get his mind off her. ‘So, um, do you know your way around this place?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Feel like giving me a guided tour?’
‘No.’
‘It’s got to be better than sitting on the stairs.’
She pursed her lips. ‘You don’t understand much about duty, do you?’
‘According to you, I don’t know much about anything. So come on. Educate me.’
Her mouth twitched, almost into a smile. ‘I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like my definition of duty.’
‘How hard is it, really? Being a soldier, I mean. You ride horses through the bush, march around the city, and guard important buildings. Nothing to it.’
She spun away and snatched up her sword.
‘Artemis, wait. I’m sorry. I know you do way more important things than that.’
‘You have no idea. None whatsoever.’ She buckled her sheath to her belt.
‘You’re right. I’ve still got heaps to learn. I thought you might be able to help me to understand at least some of it. Don’t worry. I’ll explore the place myself.’ He sighed and added, ‘But I haven’t got a great sense of direction, so if you hear me yelling, it’s because I’m lost and I need rescuing.’
Rolling her eyes, she unhooked her sword and laid it back on the floor. ‘Fine.’
She led him downstairs to the foyer and showed him the bathroom. It was immense. The bath was set into the floor like a mini swimming pool. Carved stone benches lined the walls, and stacked in each corner were fresh folded towels. Off to one side was a toilet room, which was nothing more than a stone slab with a hole in the centre and a bucket of clean water beside it. A drain with flowing water ran underneath the slab. Nick tried not to think about where it might end up.
‘If you want a bath, Amaránta will put the boiler on,’ Artemis explained as they headed back to the apartment.
Upstairs, Nick discovered some bedrooms with large comfy-looking beds, and a lounge room with a thick woven rug, wide fireplace, several couches, and dozens of cushions. The sundisc carved in the stone above the fireplace had been chiselled away until it resembled a crescent moon.
As Artemis opened the last door in the corridor, she said, ‘This will be your room.’
Inside was a huge bed with a burgundy quilt and a mountain of embroidered pillows. A polished copper jug and matching bowl sat on a side table, and a chest of drawers stood in the corner. Everything looked antique, delicate and expensive. It was the sort of place Nick would usually avoid entering in case he damaged something.
‘Is every house in Auremos like this?’ he asked.
She opened the shutters to reveal a small balcony with a great view of the city. ‘No house is like this.’
She pointed to the cobblestone yard below. ‘That’s Market Square. It can get pretty busy during the day, and it’s always noisy.’
The square was surrounded by chunky sandstone houses. Tangled gardens covered some of the flat roofs, while others had strings of washing. One rooftop had caved in and trees were growing past its walls. Auremos continued in a sprawling pale tumble till it hit the distant battlements where torchlight outlined the watchtowers. The echo of drums and whistles from the fire night reminded Nick that everyone was celebrating David’s return, and that David seemed to have forgotten that Nick existed.
‘What do you think of the city?’ Artemis asked.
‘It’s...different.’
She regarded him with wary curiosity.
A sharp knock on the front door startled them both. Artemis dashed down the hall and strapped her sword to her belt. Nick waited until she’d sorted her equipment before lifting the latch. A gigantic Bandála soldier with a shaved head and jaw like a bull bar filled the doorway. His black glare rested on Artemis. She straightened, but her show of obedience did nothing to soften the soldier’s stern expression.
‘You should know better than to leave your post,’ he growled.
She paled. ‘Sir, I was just—’
‘It’s my fault,’ Nick said. ‘I asked her to show me around. She was explaining...’
The soldier’s skull-crushing stare turned on Nick.
‘Um...she was explaining the rules. So I don’t do anything, you know, wrong.’
‘Artemis, you are dismissed,’ the soldier said.
She saluted then scurried down the stairs.
‘I am Kráytos,’ he said, stepping into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. ‘I’ll be in charge of your guard.’
‘My guard?’
‘While you’re in Auremos, you’re not to go anywhere without one of the Bandála soldiers downstairs.’
‘Hang on—’
‘These are Valerius’ orders. You will obey them.’
‘But—’
‘If anyone asks you about what happened tonight in the vaults, you say nothing. You also do not mention your full name again. Understand?’
‘No, I don’t understand! Why am I under arrest?’
‘You aren’t under arrest. You’re in protective custody.’
Nick muttered under his breath, ‘Is there a difference?’
‘In your case, probably not. Is there anything you require?’
‘Yes. My freedom.’
Kráytos looked unmoved. ‘I’ll be stationed downstairs,’ he said. Then he left. Nick followed but stopped when Kráytos turned.
‘Go back to your apartment, Nicholas.’
‘Why?’
‘Because this is what Valerius has ordered.’
‘Valerius doesn’t tell me what to do.’
Kráytos began to climb the stairs, moving with the calm deliberation of a tank. Nick scurried back to the top floor landing. He didn’t stand a chance against this soldier.
‘You can’t force me to stay here,’ he said, and slammed the door. He scuffed along the hall to his bedroom, kicked off his boots, perched on the balcony railing, and dangled one grimy, vertigo-tingling foot over the edge.
He wondered if Mía had ever lied to him about his past. She’d always answered his questions, but she’d often given a cautious response. He thought back to the day she’d lost her temper with David. Nick hadn’t understood most of what was said, but he’d known they were arguing over his tattoo. Now he wondered if that argument had been about more than a circle inked onto his skin.
If Mía was here, she’d answer all his questions. She’d tell him everything was going to be alright.
As he gazed across the city and its muddled maze of stone and overgrown rubble, he wondered whether he would ever find the answers he needed. And if he did, would he really want to know the truth?