Chapter 84: Familiar Faces

Chapter 84: Familiar Faces

When speaking of the Gharic lands, it is common to hear men cite the extreme difficulty in governing a conquered populace. A people are naturally inclined to chafe under foreign rule; indeed, our own example illustrates how a society may foster determination and will sufficient to span the gap of centuries. The immediate question that follows is obvious: are we not condemning ourselves to a repeat of our history in reverse, as the conquered Gharic peoples lie in wait for a time of Safid laxity?

We would be, were we to commit the same errors as Ghar did in our subjugation. The yoke of the emperor did not rest easily on us because we were made to feel our difference from that imperial state by dint of tax and whip, corve and famine.

The lesson is at once easy and impossible: do not rule over foreigners. Draw no lines between Gharic and Safid, accept any earnest man regardless of his ancestry. This is perhaps easier for us than it was for Ghar, as our faith compels us to display such magnanimity regardless of the practical benefits. Faith is the open door through which men become Safid in truth, and it is the greatest of crimes to allow prejudice to close that redeeming gate.

This is not to say that disruption to our rule should be tolerated; the hand that rules must always be iron. It will lose no strength in a velvet glove, however, and will exert itself far less.

- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687

Michaels eyes slid open in the darkened cabin. It was useless, vestigial habit to close them while he slept; his sight cared little for the state of his eyes. If he truly needed darkness there were vast stretches of it beneath him, quiet expanses of bedrock and water always waiting to smother his vision in blackness. He seldom indulged in it, though, preferring to let his sight drift back to his cot or fly far overhead against the windswept stars.

The choice mattered less every night; it had been a long time since he slept through to mornings light. Sometimes he let his sight roam around while he lay still, investigating the little facets of wherever they had made camp, other times he kept his awareness tucked tightly between his body and Sobriquets, relishing her presence.

Today he raised himself carefully from bed, snagging a light shirt from the bedside and padding barefoot to the Helgas deck. The night was clear, with no hint of incipient sunrise sullying the stars. He felt the thrum of the engine in his feet, the gentle caress of the water as the prow pushed it aside. They were still in the eastern reaches of the Cauldron Sea, far distant from the continent but not yet in sight of Ardalt.

Michael was quietly grateful for the extra time.

Soft, rhythmic vibrations joined the ships song as footsteps approached behind him; he shifted his sight and saw Otto walking up from the wheelhouse. The captain rubbed his hands together to ward against the chill wind.

Itll be some time yet before landfall, he said. Or sunrise, for that matter. Ghars teeth, youre not even wearing shoes.

Michael looked down and saw his own footprints clearly outlined in the thin frost coating the deck. Potens soul, he said. I dont seem to feel the cold like I used to.

Otto gave him a long look, likely remembering what he had done to the lock in his cell - then shook his head. Bah. I wont ask, so dont you dare tell me another word of it. Still regretting the last time I took you aboard, I dont need more fuel for that fire. He barked out a low, hoarse laugh, looking bemusedly down at Michaels feet. And I thought the old man was trouble. Should have had my eye on you instead.

Inexorably, Michaels sight was drawn to the spot on the deck where Jeorg had died. What happened to his body?

They left him there, after they grabbed you, Otto said, looking grimly down at the same spot. Set off without so much as a threat to me, so I made my way forward. Your friend - its bad business to travel with a dead man aboard, especially one shot. Hes in the sea, with weight and sailcloth. He frowned, then turned to Michael. Same as Id have done for any man who died underway. If youre going to take exception to that, tell me now.

Michael briefly imagined Jeorg wrapped in a pressing bundle of sailcloth, weighted down and dumped into the icy water, sinking down into the blackness; he tapped his foot against the deck once. Eventually, he turned to Otto. I dont think hed mind, Michael said. So I suppose I dont either.

Good to know, Otto said, looking relieved despite his stoic manner. He moved to stand beside Michael at the railing. Have to say, its a mite surprising to find you so eager to get back to Ardalt, seeing the trouble you had in getting away.

Im a bit surprised myself, Michael admitted. But thats where I need to be.

Otto grunted. Sometimes thats the way of it. He pulled a pipe from his jacket and busied himself lighting it. Once he had taken a few good draws, he leaned on the rail. Not the same place you left it, Id say. Ive been there and back on a few trips since we last parted ways. Harder to find a friendly face or an open door than it used to be.

Oh? Michael asked.

I expect youll see for yourself once were there, Otto said. I wont tell you what to do with yourself. Therell be no favors owed between us once youre off, this time. No passcodes, no dead friends, no unfinished business. I feel your leash tickling at my throat, boy, and I dont like it. He looked up at Michael, his expression blank. Not one bit. I didnt take to the sea to find ties on me.

Michael blinked, taken aback; Ottos tone was not hostile but his words had a definite unfriendliness to them. I didnt come looking for you, Michael said. Nor do I expect to again.

The old captain smiled at that, drawing on his pipe and looking back out to the sea. Nor do you expect to, he chuckled. Time was I had a woman, you know. Long ago. An auspex, but not one like you find in the papers. She bore it hard, turned sickly. Drifted farther away- He shook his head. Id catch her staring in the market sometimes, eyes fixed on some stranger like their coat had caught fire. Folks she said were bright in her eyes. You know what she said to me, when I asked?

Otto fixed him with a look. Stay far away from the bright folk, she said. Hard for a man to break free from their current, once it snags them. He held Michaels gaze. As Im finding.

Ill do my best, Michael said. Though Im not sure how Im meant to prevent our paths from crossing again.

The smile crept back onto Ottos lips. Leave that to me, lad. Old Helga has some steam in her yet. Ill sail - well. He tipped his pipe towards Michael wryly. Nowhere that Ill be sharing with you.

Fair enough. Michael straightened up from the rail to look at the old captain. But you should know that it may not be far enough. Youre not wrong about me. If you- He paused, considering his words. Even if you manage to stay far away from me, you may find yourself drawn back one day. I can turn you away one final time, but it will mean your - end.

Otto straightened up to face him, latching onto something in Michaels tone that robbed any levity from his weathered face. Then thats where Ill end, he said.

Michael held his gaze for a long moment. Otto wasnt a friendly man, but neither had he been unkind or treacherous. He was only Otto, and apparently had little interest in being anything else.

All right, Michael said.

He turned without saying anything further. There was little to say, after that, and if Otto wished to minimize his ties with Michael - every moment they spent talking was a danger. Perhaps he would slip free, as he wished. Perhaps not. Michael tried to banish the thoughts from his mind on the way back to his cabin.

His attempt at a stealthy entry was less successful than he planned, though, as Sobriquet was sitting up groggily when he swung the door closed.

Trouble? she yawned.

Michael shook his head. No. Just talking with Otto. Weve got some time before we dock.

He have anything interesting to say? she asked.

There was a pause. He asked me to kill him, Michael said. The next time we meet.

I know a few places we could check, Voss said hesitantly. Im from Stahm, I worked as a Freezer for a few years before I enlisted. Theres a clinic just north of the market, for a start - thats where most of the dockworkers would go for injuries and the like. He paused and flushed, seeming to realize that he was the focus of attention. Cant say for fishrot. Everyone knows doctors cant do nothing for it, so most dont waste their money.

Zabalas head came up. You have to pay? he asked, scandalized. What about public clinics?

Unai shook his head. No public clinics in Ardalt, at least none that Im aware of. He and Zabala exchanged a look; the younger man turned away grumbling something in Mendiko.

That sounds like a decent enough place to start, Michael said. Thanks, Voss. Can you lead us there?

Been a few years, the Freezer mumbled. But sure, it was up the Fischmarktallee He began to walk uncertainly down the street, his movements growing more sure as they turned onto a broader boulevard.

Their group clumped together, weaving through the free areas in traffic with some difficulty; Stahm was not a calm city, and the days business was beginning in earnest. But while the people on the street increased in number, there was an odd silence to the crowd. The normal chatter of friends meeting in the street was subdued, the cries of street vendors all but absent.

Michael stretched out hesitantly with Spark, tasting the air. It carried the familiar taint of fear, though a duller and quieter species of it than he usually encountered. This was not a battlefield fear, nor the uneasy quiet of those forced into close quarters with him. It was familiar even so, though it took him a while to realize why.

It was his own fear, the fear of a boy trapped in a house with a violent and dangerous man, writ large onto the streets and avenues of Stahm. People kept their eyes down, their mouths shut. Now that Michael knew it for what it was, he found it impossible to ignore.

Each of them was trying to avoid notice.

Michael walked a bit slower, dropping back to where Unai trailed the group. Had you heard anything more about my fathers efforts here? he said. The town seems - I dont know, beaten.

Ive been noticing that, Unai said grimly. And no, I havent heard much else. I can guess, however. He nodded towards where a group of women were walking quickly down the street, their eyes firmly fixed on the cobbles. Its no small thing to cow a populace this thoroughly. There have been arrests here, Id say, and not just a few. There are probably constabulary auditors lurking throughout the city. Spectors too, most likely. Even if Sibyl isnt here, we may not be able to rest easy.

Arrests for what? Michael asked.

Unai waved a hand. Doesnt matter. Saying the wrong thing. Seeming threatening. After the first disappearances, most of the people will govern their behavior to avoid doing anything they think will provoke a response - which is, of course, the entire point. The notional crimes of those first few dont matter, although I imagine there were a few journalists and outspoken men of means among their number.

Michael hummed, feeling mildly nauseous as he looked around once more at the people on the street. Another row of his fathers posters stared balefully from across a boarded-up shopfront as they passed.

Before too long they found themselves turning down a side alley towards an unmarked door; Voss looked back at Michael for confirmation and, receiving it, rapped his knuckles sharply on the wood.

Free from the need to wait, Michael sent his sight inside. There were only a few rooms, one of which was full of listless patients on cots. The others were a storeroom and a small office, in which an older man sat hunched over a desk. He looked up irritably as Voss knocked again, though he made no move to rise from his seat.

Michael pulled his vision back and turned to Sobriquet. Hes in there, he muttered. Might need some encouragement to come to the door.

She grinned, then closed her eyes; a moment later there was a sharp yelp of surprise from inside the office. Footsteps sounded, and the door opened to reveal a short, fat man with a thin buzz of white hair glaring at them.

What? he snapped. Ive already told your friends where they can put their summons, Im not leaving my patients.

Voss looked confusedly back at Michael, who stepped forward. You have us confused with someone else, he said. We dont have any friends who would have stopped by here.

Pah, the doctor spat. Dont lie to me. Who else comes knocking on my door with ensouled and soldiers, eh? Youre Institute, just like the rest.

Institute? Michael muttered. No, were - look at them, do they look like Institute men to you? Do I? Were just here on the trail of a - public health emergency, of sorts. Want to know if youve seen any strange cases of fishrot lately.

The doctors eyes narrowed. Fishrot? he asked suspiciously. Nobody comes here for fishrot. Cant treat it.

But have you heard of any odd cases? Michael asked. Fishrot, or perhaps intense burns.

There was a moment of silence; the doctors eyes narrowed further still. Fishrot and burns, eh? he said. Havent heard anything like that, no sir. Wouldnt tell you if I had. You and your thugs can go lean on someone else to find your little rogue lucigens-

I never said we were looking for a lucigens, Michael said, somewhat taken aback.

The old man surged up to stand in his face. As good as said it! he rasped. Or do you think Im an idiot, hm? Hmm? Burns and fishrot, burns and fishrot! What else could you be looking for? He made a disgusted gesture and turned away. Take your thugs and run back to whatever factory makes men like you, you useless fancy twat. I wish I did know where he was, Id derive that much more pleasure from not telling you. Off my doorstep!

The doctor huffed and turned back to slam the door; Michael slid his foot into the gap before it could shut. The doctor scowled and began slamming the door on his foot with gleeful abandon.

Unaffected, Michael leaned closer. We have two anatomentes in our party, he said. Tell us anything youve heard, and well heal every patient in your office.

Liar, the doctor spat, still resolutely hammering the door into Michaels foot. Double liar, since you said you werent from the Institute - so which is it, hm? Not from the Institute, not an anatomens? Because if you expect me to believe- He paused, the door slipping from his hand; his eyes went round.

Michael turned to see Unai walking up behind him, holding his hand up so that the doctor could see the tree device stamped into his glove. Good evening, sir, Unai said smoothly. I can assure you that my friend here is telling the truth, and that we are not in any way affiliated with the Institute.

You - youre. The doctor shook his head. Youre all fucking crazy, is what you are. Mendiko! Wandering around Stahm! Im surprised youre not all arrested, and me along with you.

Hello, Sobriquet said sweetly, walking up to stand beside Michael. Im Sobriquet.

The doctor blinked, then scowled. Well, theres not enough space inside for the lot of you. The pretty girl can come in. And the Mendiko.

And the fancy twat? Sobriquet asked innocently. Hes our other anatomens.

The fuck he is, the doctor muttered. Fine. Pretty girl, Mendiko and fancy twat. The rest of you, try not to drool in the alley. Its unsanitary. He opened the door and stepped aside. Come on, Im not getting younger.

Michael sighed and ducked through the doorway.