“You should have killed her,” observed Michelotto laconically. “She remembered you.”
“Yes, I should have. It’s just that, while she lived, I could still daydream, you know. That Thetis would come back one day. In a young, beautiful body. I thought it had happened, when you were standing at my door there.” He looked up hopefully.
“Is there anything of Thetis in you?”
“Perhaps. I don’t know how much of me is the girl and how much is her.”
“Have you any feelings for me?”
I thought about this. “Yes.”
He brightened.
“I hate you. For what you did to that little girl—to me.”
His expression instantly turned into a scowl.
“Any more questions?” Michelotto asked me.
“No, I don’t think so.”
Bending at the knee, as if to look more closely into Dardis’s face, Michelotto whipped a garrote around the old man’s neck and pulled it tight, his knuckles white with the effort.
“Stop!” I screamed. “He isn’t going to reveal anything.”
“He isn’t now.” Michelotto spoke with a great deal of satisfaction. He straightened up, and the body of Dardis slumped to the side, falling into the debris of the china and the scattered orchid petals.
I looked at the body, stunned and horrified. This man had meant a great deal to Thetis. Was she screaming for him? I was afraid to look too deep.
“That’s it. You’re on your own! You’re just as bad as the Dark Queen. I want nothing more to do with you.” I leaped out of the chair and strode toward the door. “Never! Understand? How can you just kill someone like that, so heartlessly? I don’t care what the Dark Queen does; you and she are just the same.”
“You know,” he called out toward my retreating back, his voice calm. “Whoever you are, you’re not a proper RAL.” I paused, but I was trembling too much to speak. Nor did I turn around. “You’re too emotional.”
Chapter 33
RAGE AND DESPAIR
Half a day
has passed since I witnessed the murder; the sun has set. Yet always the malicious expression on the face of Michelotto comes into my thoughts, causing my heart to accelerate in fear and anger. I board away from the scene, through empty streets, where the only motion is that of the furtive short scurries of rats. Night has come to a dead part of the City, a pocket of decay in the grid of lights. Am I Thetis? Am I howling inside at the death of Dardis? Even though I have never known the man. Of course not, and yet, when I take my thoughts away to other matters, somewhere, deep down, there are tears.
It seems, in my imagination, that every path that I have ever boarded along, every person I have ever spoken to, holds a part of me. I have become worn, tired, thin, and dispersed. If I am to end my suffering, I must draw together my distant parts, selfishly, protectively. No matter what may occur, I cannot be hurt once I am entirely contained within my own skin. Even better, I pack my lost selves inside my heart, pulling in the distended cords of my life, compressing them tighter and tighter, until I am diamond hard. Impossible to wound. Incapable of tears.
Stretching my arms high above my head, I splay my fingers, concentrating. I inhale, breathing in the echoes of my past, bringing them back to me. In the glowing neon streets, they hear me. Past the torn fencing, in the graffiti-covered parks, they hear me. My scattered selves. They rise like the undead, given the chance of life again, and eagerly seek the call. A flow of cold through my fingertips. I shiver and inhale again, deeply, powerfully. All that I was, all that I once cast aside, comes back to me now, for I am wounded and must heal myself. Even those attachments that I ought to care for—Athena, Milan, Nathan, Arnie—they, too, must return. Feeling the loss, but determined above all on my survival, I inhale a third time.
There are no longer any exposed parts of my identity that can be twisted and hurt.
All is still, and yet I quiver with energy. With my eyes closed in concentration, I channel the vibrancy of my life force into my heart, as though it were the chamber of a nuclear reactor. Only six years of existence, but so much vitality. Denser now, the core of my being. Denser still. Atoms screaming as they collapse in upon each other. This is my new heart, and it cannot be broken.
If she was ever there, deep in my subconscious, Thetis is certainly gone. Nor am I that poor girl, taken excitedly from her orphanage and destroyed on a white table in a white room. I am who I am. Ghost.
As I wipe the tears from my face, I hear footsteps. They are of my own creation so I do not turn around but continue to glide through the shadows, listening to the powerful beat of their tread, filling them out: legs, bodies, heads. They are complete, and I turn to meet my escorts: Rage and Despair. They will be my companions this night. Rage has a silver breastplate beneath her gown; she carries a sword and on her crown are mouths, wide open in silent screams. Despair is veiled; in her hand she holds a mirror; the brooch of her cape is an opalescent lily. They frighten me, but I let them come closer; they lift their arms and embrace me.
Oh mercy! They are fire and ice. I blaze and burn; my insides are slowly torn through and through. We cling tighter, and my suffering continues throughout the night. All nights must end, I tell myself. And so it does, unexpectedly, as though the Earth, having ceased to turn while I shivered with loneliness, was suddenly given a kick. Under a brightening gray sky, Rage and Despair dissolve and, with their departure, I am purged. A new memory comes. Or is it a dream? It is simple: a curtain with the light behind it. The curtain is orange, my view sepia-tinged from its glow. The memory contains no meaning; it does, however, hold emotions: affection and happiness.
I kick up my board and begin the journey back to my friends.
They were still asleep, heads poking from their sleeping bags as if they were butterflies caught emerging from their cocoons. Moving quietly around the room, very gently I caressed their hair: Athena’s wild black locks, Nathan’s golden bangs, Milan’s crewcut. He stirred.
“Ghost? What time is it?”
“Hush, it’s early. Go back to sleep.”
This part of the City was noisy at dawn, but not with the rumble of traffic. The hideout was near an old, overgrown park, and it was birdsong that enlivened the new day. My patience was infinite and it was pleasant to sit here, watching over them.
It was Athena who awoke first; I sensed the change in her breathing, her heart rate. She flung out an arm, groping for her glasses.
“Oh, hi, Ghost. I’m glad you’re back. Defiance has made the top one hundred!” She sat up, eager, and her enthusiasm woke the others. No sooner had she spoken than she unrolled her computer, her bedside companion, to check.
“Ninety-seventh and still on the way up. We’ve got the right to attend the High Council, and there’s one tonight! The Dark Queen is going to be there; she’s making an address. The newscasts are full of our promotion; they’re posting everywhere, trying to get an interview with me, to see what stance we’re taking.”
“What are you going to do there?” I asked her, startled at the normality of my voice.
“Impeach the Dark Queen. Of course, we’ll lose the vote ninety-nine to one, but still, I’ll enjoy the moment, and it will be good publicity for Defiance.”
The idea of Athena challenging the top guilds on their own ground made me laugh. “You chose a really appropriate name for your guild.”
“Yeah, thanks. So, what happened with you and Michelotto? Did you make contact with Erik?”
“Yes. He left this for us.” I handed her a circular bone case. She squinted at the baroque writings carved along the surface. “It’s got a scroll inside, a spell. ‘True Speaking’ is what he called it.”
“Oh, interesting. If it works.”
Milan sat up with a yawn. “I hate mornings. Good to see you, Ghost.”
“You, too, Milan.”
“Ghost, you’re back?” Nathan rolled over and blinked, taking a moment to focus on me. “I was worried about you.”
“That’s good to know, but actually you don’t need to worry about me—not ever.” Could they not see that I had changed? That I had climbed out of the darkness of my past, to be Ghost and Ghost alone? Good, because I wouldn’t want to lose them.
“So, will you come with me, Ghost? I’m worried about the Dark Queen’s reaction,” Athena continued.
“To the High Council? I’d be delighted, but am I allowed?”
“Yes, as my secretary.”
“Good.”
Athena gave a slight grimace and looked at me apologetically. “There is one thing, sorry. There’s a lot of protocols. Like our clothes; they must not contain colors of cards above our status. In other words, it’s red for us.”
“Red and black. How appropriate.”
“Would you mind using your cards to buy us new gear? I don’t have the credit.”
“Of course not.”
Chapter 34
WAX BEFORE FIRE
How dare they?
They will regret such impudence. We stare again at the motion.
The Grand High Council resolves to impeach the Dark Queen for tyranny and we resolve, having dismissed her from office, to take into our own hands full responsibility for the running of society.
It has been four generations since We were obliged even to answer questions from these baboons. Some upstart is asking Us to demonstrate Our full power. Or perhaps this is another ruse by Michelotto, to draw Us out?
“Which guild initiated the censure?”
Our Grand Vizier is nervous. He does not meet Our eye with his former confidence.
“Defiance, Your Majesty.”
“Ahh, yes, We guessed it. You are witnessing the unfolding of a plan by Michelotto; it is surprisingly masterful. You recall how he won the aircar race for those children?”
“Yes, indeed, Your Majesty.”
“The reason for that intervention now becomes clear. He sought to gain publicity for a new guild, one that was loyal to him rather than Us: Defiance. Now that the guild has reached the top one hundred, he uses it to provoke Us and to try to arouse opposition.”
The Grand Vizier does not speak, but acknowledges Our point with a dip of his head.
“What view does your guild, Respect, take on the motion?”
He stiffens.
“Why, Your Majesty, we are shocked at the temerity and insolence of it. How dare anyone, let alone a new guild, challenge the centuries-old experience of the success of Your rule? Defiance is the pathetic and squalid expression of ignorant people who have no understanding of good governance.”
He speaks with genuine passion, and We deign to smile approvingly.
“Moreover, we feel that the legislative measure they have proposed is illegal and that if Your Majesty wished to ban the High Council altogether, we would consider the action entirely appropriate and offer our unequivocal support.”
“Excellent. Respect has always been a guild upon which We have relied.” Strictly speaking, that statement is incorrect, for We can remember a time—oh, more than a thousand years ago—when Respect was affiliated to Our rivals, but We wish to reward the Grand Vizier’s fine words. We enjoy the visible swelling of his breast in response to Our praise. Our Grand Vizier becomes inflated with patriotic loyalty to his queen, as is entirely proper. “Respect will be further rewarded in time. But for now, We have decided to let the council convene and to attend it.”
“Your Majesty?”
It is not Our custom to share Our thinking, but in this case We are willing to let him into Our understanding; he is clearly very intelligent, for a non-RAL.
“Michelotto is bluffing. He hopes for precisely the overreaction that you advocate in order to arouse the lower-status population against Us further. He wants Us to be angry at the council. But We will not be bluffed. We intend to address the High Council as planned, to allay all concerns about the recent incursions by the aliens.” The Grand Vizier nods but looks uncertain. “Moreover, We shall use the occasion to make an example of those who dared allow themselves to be the tool of Our enemies. We shall not let Defiance escape from the High Council unscathed.” This time, he is convinced; a slight smile plays at the corners of his thin mouth.
“Very well, Your Majesty.”
“We shall dress. Go to the amphitheater; take the Imperial Guard with you and prepare it with the tightest possible security measures. Michelotto may be in the vicinity, looking for the opportunity to attack us.”
The Grand Vizier nods and departs. Naturally a RAL such as Michelotto can circumvent any measures taken by Our guards, but there is no harm in making sure that he cannot bring any supporters into the amphitheater. Furthermore, having something to do will keep the morale of Our staff high.
The Millennium Amphitheater lies among great wide highways and low, flat factories, in what would once have been considered a peripheral part of the City. But recently there had been a great deal of development around it, with blue amenities and tall residential complexes replacing the factories. The amphitheater itself was given a huge pale-silvered roof, curving down from a central support, to make it seem as though a vast canvas tent had been thrown over it. The covering was, in fact, made from layers of carbon-reinforced epoxy, held off the ground by thousands of steel struts.
A helicopter circled overhead, filling the night sky with the heavy beat of its blades; it projected a spotlight, which slid along the gleaming roof of the amphitheater, making the tent glisten as though awash with moonlight. Vast crowds lined the road leading to the plaza that held the Millennium Amphitheater. Their mood was good-natured; they were here to see the celebrities, to cheer their own guild leaders, and out of pure curiosity at the unprecedented event. Newscast crews ran up and down a slow-moving line of luxury aircars, seeking interviews.
Because we were on airboards, we could cut and glide through the traffic without having to wait. The newscast presenters barely gave us a second glance: just a group of kids, messing about, trying to get themselves some attention. Even the functionaries at the entrance to the amphitheater treated us as a gang of troublesome punks. Well, perhaps we were.