The Wind From a Burning Woman: Six Stories of Science Fiction (17 page)

Jeshua moved back from the middle of the tunnel and hid behind a fallen pipe.

Someone ran from block to block, dancing agilely in the tunnel, arms held out in balance and hands gesturing like wing tips. Four others followed, knife blades gleaming in the half-light. The fleeing man ran past, saw Jeshua in the shadows, and stumbled off into black mud. Jeshua pushed against the pipe as he stood and turned to run. He felt a tremor through his hand on the wall. A massive presence of falling rock and dirt knocked him over and tossed debris around him. Four shouts were severed. He choked on the dust, waving his arms and crawling.

The lights were out. Only a putrid blue-green swamp glow remained. A shadow crossed the ghost of a pond. Jeshua stiffened and waited for the attacking blow.

Who? the shadow said. Go, spek. Shan hurt.

The voice sounded like it might come from an older boy, perhaps eighteen or nineteen. He spoke a sort of English. It wasnt the tongue Jeshua had learned while visiting Expolis Winston, but he could understand some of it. He thought it might be Chaser English, but there werent supposed to be chasers in Expolis Ibreem. They must have followed the city

Im running, like you, Jeshua said in Winston dialect.

Dis me, said the shadow. Sabed my ass, you did. Quartie ob toms, lie dey fought I spek. Who appel?

What?

Who name? You.

Jeshua, he said.

Jeshoo-a Iberhim.

Yes, Expolis Ibreem.

No far dis em. Stan an clean. Takee back.

No, Im not lost. Im running.

No good tstay. Bugga bites mucky, bugga bites you more dan dey bites dis me.

Jeshua slowly wiped mud from his pants with broad hands. Dirt and pebbles scuttled down the hill where the four lay tombed.

Slow, the boy said. Slow, no? Brainsick? The boy advanced. Dats it. Slow you.

No, tired, Jeshua said. How do we get out of here?

Dat, dere an dere. See?

Cant see, Jeshua said. Not very well.

The boy advanced again and laid a cool, damp hand on his forearm. Big, you. Skeez, maybe tight. The hand gripped and tested. Then the shadow backed off. Jeshuas eyes were adjusting, and he could see the boys thinness.

Whats your name? he asked.

No matta. Go long wi dis me now.

The boy led him to the hill of debris and poked around in the pitchy black to see if they could pass. Allry. Dis way. Jeshua climbed up the rubble and pushed through the hole at the top with his back scraping the ceramic roof. The other side of the tunnel was dark. The boy cursed under his breath. Whole tube, he said. Ginger walk, now.

The pools beyond were luminous with the upright glows of insect larvae. Some were a foot long and solitary; others were smaller and grouped in hazes of meager light. Always there was a soft sucking sound and thrash of feelers, claws, legs. Jeshuas skin crawled, and he shivered in disgust.

Sh, the boy warned. Skyling here, sout go, tro sound.

Jeshua caught none of the explanation but stepped more lightly. Dirt and tiles dropped in the water, and a chitinous chorus complained.

Got dur here, the boy said, taking Jeshuas hand and putting it against a metal hatch. Ope, den go. Compree?

The hatch slid open with a drawn-out squeal, and blinding glare filled the tunnel. Things behind hurried for shadows. Jeshua and the boy stepped from the tunnel into a collapsed anteroom open to the last light of day. Vegetation had swarmed into the wet depression, decorating hulks of pipe valves and electric boxes. As the boy closed the hatch, Jeshua scraped at a metal cube with one hand and drew off a layered clump of moss. Four numbers were engraved beneath: 2278.

Don finga, the boy warned. He had wide grey eyes and a pinched, pale face. A grin spread between narcissus-white cheeks. He was tight-sewn, tense, with wide knees and elbows and little flesh to cover his long limbs. His hair was rusty orange and hung in strips across his forehead and ears. Beneath a ragged vest, his chest bore a tattoo. The boy rubbed his hand across it, seeing Jeshuas interest, and left a smear of mud behind.

My bran, the boy said. The brand was a radiant circle in orange and black, with a central square divided by diagonals. Triangles diminished to points in each division, creating a vibrant skewedness. Dat put dere, long go, by Mandala.

Whats that?

De gees run me, you drop skyling on, woodna dey lissen wen I say, say dis me, dat de polis, a dur go up inna. He laughed. Dey say, Nobod eba go in polis, no mo eba.

Mandalas a city, a polis?

Ten, fiteen lees fr ere.

Lees?

Kileemet. Lee.

You speak anything else? Jeshua asked, his face screwed up with the strain of turning instant linguist.

You, Ebra spek, bet. But no good dere. I got better En-glise, tone up a bit?

Hm?

I can... try... this, if it betta. He shook his head. Blow me ou to keep up long, do.

Maybe silence is best, Jeshua said. Or you just nod yes or no if you understand. Youve found a way to get into a polis?

Nod.

Named Mandala. Can you get back there, take me with you?

Shake, no. Smile.

Secret?

No secret. Dey big machee... machine dat tell dis me neba retourn. Put dis on my bod. He touched his chest. Tro me out.

How did you find your way in?

Dur? Dis big polis, it creep afta exhaussorry, moob afta run outta soil das good to lib on, many lee fro ere, an squat on top ob place where tube ope ri middle ob undaside. I know dat way, so dis me go in, an out soon afta... after. On my He slapped his butt. Coupla bounce, too.

The collapsed ceilingor skyling, as the boy called it of the anteroom formed a convenient staircase from the far wall to the surface. They climbed and stood on the edge, looking each other over uncertainly. Jeshua was covered with dark green mud. He picked at the caked rings with his hands, but the mud clung to his skin fiercely.

Maybe, come fine a bod ob wet to slosh in.

A branch of the Hebron River, flowing out of the Arat range, showed itself by a clump of green reeds a half mile from the tunnel exit. Jeshua drew its muddy water up in handfuls and poured it over his head. The boy dipped and wallowed and spumed it from puffed cheeks, then grinned like a terrier at the Ibreemite, mud streaming down his face.

Comes off slow, Jeshua said, scraping at his skin with clumped silkreeds.

Why you interest in place no man come?

Jeshua shook his head and didnt answer. He finished with his torso and kneeled to let his legs soak. The bottom of the stream was rocky and sandy and cool. He looked up and let his eyes follow the spine of a peak in Arat, outlined in sunset glow. Where is Mandala?

No, the boy said. My polis.

It kicked you out, Jeshua said. Why not let somebody else try?

Somebod alread tried, the boy informed him with a narrowed glance. Dat dey tried, and got in, but dey didna trough ray dur go. Deysheeone gol, dats allgot in widout de troub we aw ekspek. Mandala didna sto er.

Id like to try that.

Dat gol, she special, she up an down legen now. Was a year ago she went and permissed to pass was. You tink special you might be?

No, Jeshua admitted. Mesa Canaans city wouldnt let me in.

One it wander has, just early yesday?

Hm?

Wander, moob. Dis Mase Cain you mumbur bout.

I know.

Sot don let dis you in, why Mandala an differs?

Jeshua climbed from the river, frowning. Appel? he asked.

Me, mappel, not true appel or you got like hair by demon grab, mappel for you is Thinner.

Thinner, where do you come from?

Same as de gol, we follow the polis.

City chasers? By Ibreems estimation, that made Thinner a ruthless savage. Thinner, you dont want to go back to Mandala, do you? Youre afraid.

Cumsay, afraid? Like terrafy?

Like tremble in your bare feet in the dirtafy.

No possible for Thinner. Leader like, snake-skin, poke an I bounce, no go trough.

Thinner, youre a faker. Jeshua reached out and lifted him from the water. Now stop with the nonsense and give me straight English. You speak itout!

No! the boy protested.

Then why do you drop all thus but in your name and change the word order every other sentence? Im no fool. Youre a fake.

If Thinner lie, feet may curl up an blow! Born to spek dis odd inflek, an I spek differs by your ask! Dis me, no fake! Drop! Thinner kicked Jeshua on the shin but only bent his toe He squalled, and Jeshua threw him back like a fingerling. Then he turned to pick up his clothes and lumbered up the bank to leave.

Nobod dey neba treat Thinner dis way! the boy howled.

Youre lying to me, Jeshua said.

No! Stop. Thinner stood in the river and held up his hands. Youre right.

I know I am.

But not completely. Im from Winston, and Im speaking like a city chaser for a reason. And speaking accurately, mind you.

Jeshua frowned. The boy no longer seemed a boy. Why fool me, or try to? he asked.

Im a free-lance tracker. Im trying to keep tabs on the chasers. Theyve been making raids on the farmlands outside of Winston. I was almost caught by a few of them, and I was trying to convince them I was part of a clan. When they were buried, I thought you might have been another, and after speaking to you like thatwell, I have an instinct to keep a cover in a tight spot.

No Winstoner has a tattoo like yours.

That parts the truth, too. I did find a way into the city, and it did kick me out.

Do you still object to taking me there?

Thinner sighed and crawled out of the stream. Its not part of my trip. Im heading back for Winston.

Jeshua watched him cautiously as he dried himself. You dont think its odd that you even got into a city at all?

No. I did it by trick.

Men smarter than you or I tried for centuries before they all gave up. Now youve succeeded, and you dont even feel special?

Thinner put on his scrappy clothes. Why do you want to go?

Ive got reasons.

Are you a criminal in Ibreem?

Jeshua shook his head. Im sick, he said. Nothing contagious. But I was told a city might cure me, if I could find a way in.

Ive met your kind before, Thinner said. But theyve never made it. A few years ago Winston sent a whole pilgrimage of sick and wounded to a city. Bristled its barbs like a fighting cat. No mercy there, you can believe.

But you have a way, now.

Okay, Thinner said. We can go back. Its on the other side of Arat. Youve got me a little curious now. And besides, I think I might like you. You look like you should be dumb as a creeper, but youre smart. Sharp. And besides, youve still got that club. Are you desperate enough to kill?

Jeshua thought about that for a moment, then shook his head.

Its almost dark, Thinner said. Lets camp and start in the morning.

In the far valley at the middle of Arat, the Mesa Canaan citynow probably to be called the Arat citywas warm and sunset-pretty, like a diadem. Jeshua made a bed from the reeds and watched Thinner as he hollowed out the ground and made his own nest. Jeshua slept lightly that evening and came awake with dawn. He opened his eyes to a small insect on his chest, inquiring its way with finger-long antennae. He flicked it off and cleared his throat.

Thinner jack-in-the-boxed from his nest, rubbed his eyes and stood.

Im amazed, he said. You didnt cut my throat.

Wouldnt do me any good.

Work like this rubs down a mans trust.

Jeshua returned to the river and soaked himself again, pouring the chill water on his face and back in double hand-loads. The pressure in his groin was lighter this morning than most, but it still made him grit his teeth. He wanted to roll in the reeds and groan, rut the earth, but it would do him no good. Only the impulse existed.

They agreed on which pass to take through the Arat peaks and set out.

Jeshua had spent most of his life within sight of the villages of the Expolis Ibreem and found himself increasingly nervous the farther he hiked. They crawled up the slope, and Thinners statement about having tough soles proved itself. He walked barefoot over all manner of jagged rocks without complaining.

At the crest of a ridge, Jeshua looked back and saw the plain of reeds and the jungle beyond. With some squinting and hand-shading, he could make out the major clusters of huts in two villages and the Temple Josiah on Mount Miriam. All else was hidden.

In two days they crossed Arat and a rilled terrain of foothills beyond. They walked through fields of wild oats. This used to be called Agripolis, Thinner said. If you dig deep enough here, youll come across irrigation systems, automatic fertilizing machines, harvesters, storage binsthe whole works. Its all useless now. For nine hundred years it wouldnt let any human cross these fields. It finally broke down, and those parts that could move, did. Most died.

Jeshua knew a little concerning the history of the cities around Arat and told Thinner about the complex known as Tripolis. Three cities had been grouped on one side of Arat, about twenty miles north of where they were standing. After the Exiling, one had fragmented and died. Another had moved successfully and had left the area. The third had tried to cross the Arat range and failed. The major bulk of its wreckage lay in a disorganized mute clump not far from them.

They found scattered pieces of it on the plain of Agripolis. As they walked, they saw bulkheads and buttresses, most hardy of a citys large members, still supported by desiccated legs. Some were fifty to sixty yards long and twenty feet across, mounted on organic wheel movements. Their metal parts had corroded badly. The organic parts had disappeared, except for an occasional span of silicate wall or internal skeleton of colloid.

Theyre not all dead, though, Thinner said. Ive been across here before. Some made the walk a little difficult.

In the glare of afternoon they hid from a wheeled beast armored like a great translucent tank. Thats something from deep inside a citya mover or loader, Thinner said. I dont know anything about the temper of a feral city part, but Im not going to aggravate it.

When the tank thing passed, they continued. There were creatures less threatening, more shy, which they ignored. Most of them Jeshua couldnt fit into a picture of ancient city functions. They were queer, dreamy creatures: spinning tops, many-legged browsers, things with bushes on their backs, bowls built like dogs but carrying waterinsane, confusing fragments.

By days end they stood on the outskirts of Mandala. Jeshua sat on a stone to look at the city. Its different, he said. It isnt as pretty. Mandala was more square, less free and fluid.

It had an ungainly ziggurat-like pear shape. The colors that were scattered along its walls and light-bannersblack and orangedidnt match well with the delicate blues and greens of the city substance.

Its older, Thinner said. One of the first, I think. Its an old tree, a bit scabrous, not like a young sprout.

Jeshua looped his belt more tightly about his club and shaded his eyes against the sun. The young of Ibreem had been taught enough about cities to identify their parts and functions. The sunlight-absorbing banners that rippled near Mandalas peak were like the leaves of a tree and also like flags. Designs on their surfaces formed a language conveying the citys purpose and attitude. Silvery reflectors cast shadows below the banners. By squinting, he could see the gardens and fountains and crystalline recreation buildings of the uppermost promenade, a mile above them. Sunlight illuminated the green walls and showed their mottled innards, pierced the dragonfly buttresses whose wings with slow in-out beats kept air moving, and crept back and forth through the halls, light wells, and living quarters, giving all of Mandala an interior luminosity. Despite the orange and black of the colored surfaces, the city had an innate glory that made Jeshuas chest ache with desire.

How do we get in? he asked.

Through a tunnel, about a mile from here.

You mentioned a girl. Was that part of the cover?

No. Shes here. I met her. She has the liberty of the city. I dont think she has to worry about anything, except loneliness. He looked at Jeshua with an uncharacteristic wry grin. At least she doesnt have to worry about where the next meal comes from.

How did she get in? Why does the city let her stay?

Who can judge the ways of a city?

Jeshua nodded thoughtfully. Lets go.

Thinners grin froze and he stiffened, staring over Jeshuas shoulder. Jeshua looked around and surreptitiously loosened his club in his belt. Who are they? he asked.

The city chasers. They usually stay in the shadow. Something must be upsetting them today.

At a run through the grass, twenty men dressed in rough orange-and-black rags advanced on them. Jeshua saw another group coming from the other side of the city perimeter. Well have to take a stand, he said. We cant outrun them.

Thinner looked distressed. Friend, he said. Its time I dropped another ruse. We can get into the city here, but they cant.

Jeshua ignored the non sequitur. Stand to my rear, he said. Jeshua swung his club up and took a stance, baring his teeth and hunkering low as his father had taught him to do when facing wild beasts. The bluff was the thing, especially when backed by his bulk. Thinner pranced on his bandy legs, panic tightening his face. Follow me, or theyll kill us, he said.

He broke for the glassy gardens within the perimeter. Jeshua turned and saw the polis chasers were forming a circle, concentrating on him, aiming spears for a throw. He ducked and lay flat as the metal-tipped shafts flew over, thunking into the grass. He rose, and a second flight shot by, one grazing him painfully on the shoulder. He heard Thinner rasp and curse. A chaser held him at arms length, repeatedly slashing his chest with a knife. Jeshua stood tall and ran for the circle, club held out before him. Swords came up and out, dull grey steel spotted with blood-rust. He blocked a thrust and cut it aside with the club, then killed the man with a downward swing.

Stop it, you goddamn idiots! someone shouted. One of the chasers shrieked, and the others backed away from Jeshua. Thinners attacker held a head, severed from the boys body. It trailed green. Though decapitated, Thinner shouted invective in several languages, including Hebrew and Chaser English. The attackers abandoned their weapons before the oracular monster and ran pale and stumbling. The petrified man who held the head dropped it and fell over.

Jeshua stood his ground, bloody club trembling in his loosening hand.

Hey, said the muffled voice in the grass. Come here and help!

Jeshua spotted six points on his forehead and drew two meshed triangles between. He walked slowly through the grass.

El and hell, Thinners head cried out. Im chewing grass. Pick me up.

He found the boys body first. He bent over and saw the red, bleeding skin on the chest, pulpy green below that, and the pale colloid ribs that supported. Deeper still, glassy machinery and pale blue fluids in filigree tubes surrounded glints of organic circuit and metal. The chaser nearby had fainted from shock.

He found Thinners head facedown, jaw working and hair standing on end. Lift me out, the head said. By the hair, if youre squeamish, but lift me out.

Jeshua reached down and picked the head up by the hair. Thinner stared at him above green-leaking nose and frothing mouth. The eyes blinked. Wipe my mouth with something. Jeshua picked up a clump of grass and did so, leaving bits of dirt behind, but getting most of the face clean. His stomach squirmed, but Thinner was obviously no mammal, nor a natural beast of any form, so he kept his reactions in check.

I wish youd listen to me, the head said.

Youre from the city, Jeshua said, twisting it this way and that.

Stop thatIm getting dizzy. Take me inside Mandala.

Will it let me in?

Yes, dammit, Ill be your passkey.

If youre from the city, why would you want me or anyone else to go inside?

Take me in, and youll discover.

Jeshua held the head at arms length and inspected it with half-closed eyes. Then, slowly, he lowered it, looked at the tiled gardens within the perimeter, and took his first step. He stopped, shaking.

Hurry, the head said. Im dripping.

At any moment Jeshua expected the outskirts to splinter and bristle, but no such thing happened. Will I meet the girl? he asked.

Walk, no questions.

Eyes wide and stomach tense as rock, Jeshua entered the city of Mandala.

There, that came more easily than you expected, didnt it? the head asked.

Jeshua stood in a cyclopean green mall, light bright but filtered, like the bottom of a shallow sea, surrounded by the green of thick glass and botanic fluids. Tetrahedral pylons and slender arches rose all around and met high above in a circular design of orange and black, similar to the markings on Thinners chest. The pylons supported four floors opening onto the court. The galleries were empty.

You can put me down here, Thinner said. Im broken. Something will come along to fix me. Wander for a while if you want. Nothing will hurt you. Perhaps youll meet the girl.

Jeshua looked around apprehensively. Would do neither of us any good, he said. Im afraid.

Why, because youre not a whole man?

Jeshua dropped the head roughly on the hard floor, and it bounced, screeching.

How did you know? he asked loudly, desperately.

Now youve made me confused, the head said. What did I say? It stopped talking, and its eyes closed. Jeshua touched it tentatively with his boot. It did nothing. He straightened up and looked for a place to run. The best way would be out. He was a sinner now, a sinner by anger and shame. The city would throw him out violently. Perhaps it would brand him, as Thinner had hinted earlier. Jeshua wanted the familiarity of the grasslands and tangible enemies like the city chasers.

The sunlight through the entrance arch guided him. He ran for the glassy walkway and found it rising to keep him in. Furious with panic, he raised his club and struck at the spines. They sang with the blows but did not break.

Please, he begged. Let me out, let me out!

He heard a noise behind him and turned. A small wheeled cart gripped Thinners head with gentle mandibles and lifted its segmented arms to send the oracle down a chute into its back. It rolled from the mall into a corridor.

Jeshua lifted his slumped shoulders and expanded his chest. Im afraid! he shouted at the city. Im a sinner! You dont want me, so let me go!

He squatted on the pavement with club in hand, trembling. The hatred of the cities for man had been deeply impressed in him. His breathing slowed until he could think again, and the fear subsided. Why had the city let him in, even with Thinner? He stood and slung the club in his belt. There was an answer someplace. He had little to loseat most, a life he wasnt particularly enjoying.

And in a city there was the possibility of healing arts now lost to the expolitans.

Okay, he said. Im staying. Prepare for the worst.

He walked across the mall and took a corridor beyond. Empty rooms with hexagonal doors waited silent on either side. He found a fountain of refreshing water in a broad cathedral-nave room and drank from it. Then he spent some time studying the jointing of the arches that supported the vault above, running his ringers over the grooves.

A small anteroom had a soft couchlike protrusion, and he rested there, staring blankly at the ceiling. For a short while he slept. When he awoke, both he and his clothes were clean. A new pair had been laid out for himstandard Ibreem khaki shirt and short pants and a twine belt, more delicately knitted than the one he was wearing. His club hadnt been removed. He lifted it. It had been tampered withand improved. It fitted his grip better now and was weighted for balance. A table was set with dishes of fruit and what looked like bread-gruel. He had been accommodated in all ways, more than he deserved from any city. It almost gave him the courage to be bold. He took off his ragged clothes and tried on the new set. They fit admirably, and he felt less disreputable. His sandals had been stitched up but not replaced. They were comfortable, as always, but sturdier.