Саймон Морден - Down Station

The geomancer was, despite the tears, or even because of them, not a good person. She was a boss, nails-hard, ruthless in the pursuit of power. She had her crew, too. There was noise coming from below◦– shouts and cries and the sound of breaking things.

‘Go and get them to stop. Just tell them we have her, and it’s up to us to decide what happens to her.’

Dalip nodded and went to the top of the stairs, stopping to pick up one of the damaged brass instruments. ‘Are you going to be okay with her?’

She raised her weary gaze. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugged and hurried away, his bare feet padding on the stone steps, and she was alone with the geomancer. The situation was now very different from last time. She could take her to the broken balcony doors and pitch her over the edge. If she could change before she hit the ground, she’d live. If not, then the castle and everything in it would be Mary’s. She might not even give her that chance, and simply finish her with something sharp, or heavy. The geomancer would, if left alone, heal and grow stronger until one day, Mary would be forced to do something.

In her experience, that was the way it had to be.

‘Just… stop crying, okay? It’s over.’

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse.

‘Look, I know what I’m supposed to do now. I’m supposed to take out the competition, move on to their manor and pick up where they left off. It’s what you did to Crows, and it’s what you expect of me.’

At the mention of Crows’ name, the geomancer stiffened.

‘Oh, Crows. He might be a bullshitter, but he taught me a few tricks. The rest, I seem to be learning by myself. He’s gone now, though, with my map. And that hurt. I trusted him, like how we all trusted your wolfman: how come no one in this fucking place seems to be able to open their mouths without a lie coming out?’

The geomancer slowly lifted herself from prone to sitting, wedging herself against the wall. The white and gold dress was tattered and torn: one sleeve was down by her wrist, and the other’s stitching had all but unravelled. Her front, bare chest and sculpted bodice, was stained scarlet from the copious nose bleed Mary had given her. She lifted a hand and scraped her hair away from her face enough to reveal one baleful red eye.

She wiped her puffy lips with the back of her hand. Her teeth were white against the red.

‘Why are you letting me live?’

‘Because I don’t feel like killing you, right? You want to die? There’s the window.’ Mary glared at her. ‘This should have been different. You could have been nice to us. We would have answered all your questions. We’d have probably stayed here while we found our feet. Instead, you treat us like shit, then wonder why we don’t do as we’re told. You can fuck right off with that. You’re going to have to answer our questions now, and you’d better tell us the truth.’

Dalip found a stand-off at the bottom of the tower. The guards had forced the door, but those inside had barricaded the stairwell making it impossible for them to pass further.

‘Let me through,’ he said to Mama, and even though it was a squeeze to get by her on the stairs, they were both past the point of embarrassment. Elena was next, and it was no more nor less awkward. The front line consisted of Luiza and Stanislav, and Dalip peered between them over the jumble of furniture at the thwarted guards. He threw the geomancer’s broken toy into the midst of the snarling men.

‘What was that?’ asked Stanislav. He’d been cut on the forehead by some flying object, a raised lump with a gash at its centre had streamed blood down the side of his face and neck.

‘I’ve no idea what it was, but it should mean we can stop fighting for a bit.’

‘You’ve taken her, then,’ came the shouted response.

‘It’s over. She’s still alive, but she’s our prisoner now.’

‘You should have finished her,’ hissed Stanislav. ‘She is dangerous.’

‘Look, just…’ Dalip screwed his face up in concentration. ‘Shut up about that. We know what we’re doing.’ He returned his attention to the guards. ‘Leave the tower. Leave the castle if that’s what you want, we can’t stop you and we wouldn’t want to. Everything’s changed here◦– we’re not slaves anymore.’

He could see the guards individually weighing up the balance of power: one by one, they left the downstairs room. There was no door to pull shut behind them◦– it was lying flat on the floor◦– but once the last of them had gone, the only thing stealing back through was the night.

Mama huffed. ‘Well, that’s that. We’re free to go, right?’

Dalip put his shoulder to the barricade, just to see how firm it was. ‘It’s a bit more complicated than that, and I really don’t have the words to explain it. It’d all be better if you just took a look for yourself.’

Luiza offered him the long knife. He thought about declining, but he took it. It was a kirpan by any other name, and he hoped that he’d be able to get the geomancer to tell him what she’d done with his kangha and kara. And his pagh.

The two serving women came with them, up the narrow winding steps all the way to the top. Mary had heard them coming, and was sitting on the bed, still wrapped in the tapestry.

‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Everything okay?’

‘We need to clean her up. Find her some new clothes.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘We can’t just leave her like that.’ She gestured at the raggedy woman, who sat with her legs drawn up and knees hard against her chest. ‘Just because we won doesn’t mean we have to behave like shits.’

‘She tried to kill both of us.’ He stepped off the staircase and in to the room. Mama followed, cautiously, eyes wide.

‘So we’ll be careful. Good to see you, Mama.’

Mama slowly turned, taking in the whole room, and eventually her gaze caught the slight figure of Mary.

‘Good Lord and Sweet Jesus,’ she shrieked. ‘Where’ve you been, girl?’

‘Out and about. I’m fine.’ She smiled. ‘I’m better than fine.’

‘What happened to your clothes?’

Dalip had to stand back lest he got trampled by Mama.

‘They got wrecked. By her. When she was a dragon.’

The others emerged. Mary nodded her welcome, taking a kiss on the cheek from Luiza and Elena. Mama drew back the wall hanging to inspect Mary’s back, causing her to wail and invoke God again.

Stanislav stared for a moment at Mary, then fixed on the geomancer. He marched straight to her and grabbed her by one thin wrist, pulling her upright and leaving her legs struggling to find purchase.

He pressed her against the wall, his hand around her throat, and slapped her, forehand, backhand, her head snapping one way, then the other. His fingers tightened, and she started to scrabble at her own neck, trying to prise him off.

‘Stanislav. Stop.’ Dalip started towards him, but Luiza was already moving.

Stanislav’s hand fastened on the front of dress, hooking the cloth away from her already-bruised and blood-smeared skin and ripping it apart. Luiza jumped up on him, her momentum knocking him sideways and forcing him to let go. They landed together, all three of them: the geomancer was desperate to get away, Stanislav just as desperate to attack her, and Luiza clinging to the Slav like a burr.

Mama interposed her bulk, shielding the geomancer and shoving hard at Stanislav. Now separated from his target, he half-rose and shook Luiza clear with a shrug of his broad shoulders. She landed with a squeal and tried to scramble back into contact, but Dalip got within range and brought Stanislav down.

The man raged and frothed and bellowed, and Dalip could barely hold him, let alone control him. It was like riding a tiger, and not even his fabled grandfather had done that.