Wintermoon Ice
a Mushroom eBooks sampler
Copyright © 2010, Suzanne Francis
Suzanne Francis has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the Author of this work.
First published in United Kingdom in 2010 by Mushroom eBooks.
This Edition published in 2010 by Mushroom eBooks,
an imprint of Mushroom Publishing,
Bath, BA1 4EB, United Kingdom
www.mushroom-ebooks.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 9781843198314 (PDF complete edition)
This is a sampler of Wintermoon Ice by Suzanne Francis. If you enjoy reading these sample chapters and would like to read the rest, you can buy the complete Mushroom eBook edition from the usual bookshops online, or find more details at www.mushroom-ebooks.com.
Author's Note
To Mike, Fabienne
and
William
with Love
I'd like to recognize Stephen McCabe, who provided the excellent photograph I used to create the cover of Wintermoon Ice. And, as always, I must thank Martyn from Mushroom eBooks, my patient and tireless editor.
Many of the characters in Wintermoon Ice first appeared in an earlier series of mine, called Song of the Arkafina, also published by Mushroom. You will find out much more about Jack and Katy Bennett, as well as Tom Finn, within those four volumes, beginning with Heart of Hythea.
Tessa
A bird without legs must always fly.
Theodore Black, PhD, Powwaw Speak: Shamanic Wisdom of the Irrakish
* * * *
“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with a ghost?” This from a slender blonde woman, who spoke to her companion in a smoky voice that seemed a little low-timbre for her pixyish face and haircut.
“Why, have you?” The dark-haired female at her side sounded pleased. Her voice was higher, almost shrill.
“Kind of... I’ve been reading my grandmother’s journal.”
Jane’s lips, dark against her creamy complexion, parted in a grin. “Hooray! I would much rather see you with a dead guy than Ted Black any day. Can’t imagine what you see in that troll.”
Her words, caught in the stiff breeze that tried to push them backwards as they walked along
More conversation drifted back. The tall woman, Dr. Tessa Kivelson, spoke again. “Really, Jane. Ted is a brilliant researcher, very witty, experienced...”
“I’ll say. He has at least thirty extra birthdays on you. Practically old enough to be your...”
“It’s twenty-two years, and he looks very young for his age. I know you don’t like Ted, but you might as well deal with it. He and I are getting married.” The blonde’s tone was affectionate. “But you know you’ll always be my best friend.”
Jane grimaced. “Not for long. Turdy Black will see to that. He wants you all to himself.”
One of the boys, hearing their anthropology professor described in such colorful terms, had to stifle a sudden giggle. The blonde turned her head sharply, but they had already ducked into the darkened doorway of a warehouse. The smaller of the two spoke in a furious whisper. “Keep it down, Tree. Do you want them to hear us?”
Tree glanced around the corner at the retreating backs of their quarry. He shook his head firmly. “Course not. Come on, they’re gonna get to the alleyway before we do.”
The smaller boy, Stan, sprinted with all the fleet grace of a running back towards the next cross street. Tree followed more slowly, huffing and puffing. Once they turned the corner, Stan whispered, “Don’t be an idiot. Those chicks won’t see us coming. All we have to do is climb over the fence into the container yard, and then drop into the back of Provedore’s. We can cut them off easy.”
Tree grunted in agreement as he hauled his bulk up the chain link fence that enclosed the wharf yards. Stan dropped over easily, avoiding the rusty barbed wire slung along the top.
Tree’s clothing caught. He wobbled precariously on the top before a ripping sound accompanied his fall to the hard-packed dirt of the yard. “Shit! I shredded my shirt just now. Coach will be pissed if I cut myself.”
A dog began to bark in the distance, quickly followed by a high and terrified yowling. Within a few seconds, all was silent.
Stan wasn’t paying attention. He peered over to a three-high stack of containers. “Shut the fuck up, Tree. I saw a light over there, just now. If we get busted for trespassing it isn’t going to look good.” The light swept the side of the bottom container, revealing a faded blue star, and the words “WorldPak Shipping.”
Tree shrugged, his big shoulders rolling like an avalanche. “Quit worrying. I got a couple friends on the force. These yard dicks don’t count for nothing.” He shambled off across the fenced-in square, heading for the south corner, where Provedore Way backed up to a high, locked gate. Stan followed, somewhat reassured by his friend’s lack of caution. The lights followed as well, but neither boy turned his head to look.
“What does Dr. Black want with those two, anyhow?” Tree slunk into the shade of the giant crane that handled cargo from the container ships that came and went in
“Something real lame.” Stan grinned. “He said he wanted Blondie’s purse so he could get her keys and then decorate her office for some sort of surprise party.”
Tree chuckled. “Well don’t that beat all. Wonder what he really needs ’em for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s a stinking liar. I heard lotsa stuff about Dr. Black from my Dad, ’cause they went to school together. Dad said he cheated on every single test. So, old Turdy will have to pay plenty to keep me quiet. Otherwise, they can nail him for conspiracy to commit assault. That’s worth five in the slammer.”
Stan gawked at him. “Really? He must want something bad to risk that. Well, I’m in for everything we can get. But we have to catch those chicks first. Come on, lardass. The entrance to
The two women continued along
“Oh?” Tessa wasn’t really listening. She added dreamily, “I love living by the water, in Gran’s old house. It still smells like the sugar cookies she used to bake...”
Jane punched her in the arm, abruptly bringing her out of her reverie. “I said did you read the article in the paper about the murder here a couple of weeks ago?”
Tessa grinned and raised her hands in a gesture of ignorance. “I don’t subscribe to the paper. Nothing but ads and depressing stuff.”
“It was all over the news...”
“No TV either, you know that. Look, why don’t you just tell me about it?”
Jane frowned. “Well, there were these two thugs, wearing black suits. They stomped some poor homeless guy practically to death. Only one witness, some big blond guy. Apparently, he tried to help, but when the cops arrived, he split before they had time to ask him any questions. Homeless guy was a mess, died soon after. Guess who had to do the autopsy?”
Tessa sighed patiently. “Was it you? That must have been awful.”
Her friend shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. Why only last week I...”
Tessa broke in, not really wanting to listen to another grisly anecdote from Jane. Her work as a pathologist at St. Luke’s Hospital meant she had a ready supply. “Remember I told you a while ago how I accidentally knocked a tile loose when I was cleaning the fireplace?”
Jane nodded.
“Well, I finally got around to fixing it yesterday afternoon. I was about to slap on some mortar, but I saw something sort of shiny in the crack. When I pulled the tile away I found a secret hiding place.”
“Really? Sounds like a scene straight out of Nancy Drew. What was in it?”
“A funny old mirror. There was an old journal of my Gran’s as well. I started reading it last night.”
The wind picked up a chill and they were glad to turn the corner onto
Jane stared at the shadowy aisles in dismay, listening to the shrieking calls of gulls disturbed by their passage. “Is this where you met your ghost? Wait! Don’t tell me until we get back to Seadrift. This place gives me the creeps.”
Tessa laughed. “You let your job get to you too much. All those dead people have made you paranoid.” She took a deep breath and looked at the stars, shining like sugar crystals on a deep blue cupcake. “Cheer up. It’s a nice night for a walk, especially after all that Mexican food we just ate. Weren’t those tamales delicious?”
* * * *
Stan and Tree, from their hiding place just inside the alley, heard the women approaching. “I’ll take Dr. Kivelson. Dr. Black said we mustn’t hurt her, just make sure we get her purse. You can take the other one — Jane, I think her name is.”
Tree’s brow formed laborious creases. “Do I got to get her purse too?”
Stan shook his head and chuckled quietly in the darkness. “It doesn’t matter about her. Actually, I think old Turdy-boy would be pretty grateful if you put that smart-mouthed bitch out of action for a while. Might be worth an extra-good grade.”
Tree formed a fist and then cracked his knuckles. Two black shadows, moving as silently as a warm breeze, wavered behind them.
“OK, are you ready? Here they come. Now remember, don’t hurt
Tree had been wearing a t-shirt, he never felt the cold — way too much bulk. But the hands that were unhurriedly suffocating Stan emerged from long sleeves of some heavy woolen material. Spots swam before his eyes as he began a belated struggle for survival. His terrified jerky twists made so little impact on the arms holding him that they might have been made of stone.
Next to him, Stan could sense that Tree was engaged in a similar battle. The hands around his neck shifted effortlessly, pinning his neck in the crook of an elbow. With his windpipe almost crushed, Stan could only squeak in agony as a blunt finger like a steel cable dug first into one eye socket and then the other.
Other equally implacable fingers drove Tree’s jaw sideways, until the bones and tendons ripped apart like a shucked oyster. As his tongue lolled out, with a tormented grunt, they closed the jaw with crushing force, severing the tip. It landed on the dusty ground at his feet, while warm gouts of blood splashed all over the toes of his two hundred and fifty dollar Nike sneakers.
Jane and Tessa strolled by the opening of the alley, without looking inside. Tessa was saying, “I can’t wait to show you the journal. There is something very odd about it.”
Stan and Tree didn’t hear any more of their conversation. Two meaty hands gripped two right ears with lethal precision and then the boy’s necks snapped percussively, like frozen twigs. One of the dark figures picked up both limp bodies with easy strength, and walked back down the alley towards the chain-link gate. The other carefully smoothed its black suit and stepped on to
Just then, Jane’s mobile phone erupted into a tinny rendition of “Poison” by Alice Cooper. She groaned. “That had better not be the hospital.” Sighing, she checked the caller ID. “Sorry, Tess, I need to answer this.”
Tessa leaned against the side of the nearest warehouse. “Take your time. I’ll have a smoke.”
Jane frowned her disapproval, but was soon distracted by a deep discussion about something that sounded like “mesothelioma.” After digging in the bottom of her voluminous purse, Tessa pulled out a very tatty looking leather pouch. Inside was a quantity of pipe tobacco and a small meerschaum, stained yellow with age. The bowl had been carved into a delicately shaped unicorn’s head. Beads and charms adorned the stem. Tessa spent a moment packing the pipe and then lit up. The smell of apples and smoke hung motionless in the cold winter air, reminding her once again of Grandmother Markku. The pipe had been hers as well.
Across the street, the shadow in the dark suit paused in a doorway and lit a cigarette of its own.
Jane was soon deep into another case. “Look, just make a new tray of slides and I will sign them out first thing in the morning.” Tessa, puffing peacefully on her pipe, stared off into the gloom, trying not to listen. Not that Jane’s job was all that different from her own, as her friend fondly pointed out from time to time. “Archaeology... Pathology... It’s all dead stuff, Tessa. Mine is just a little fresher.”
Too fresh, at times... Tessa thought to herself, remembering the homeless guy.
“That’s why the morgue uses toe tags, silly.” Jane laughed blithely as she chided her partner on the phone.
Her job sometimes exposed her to the worst in human behavior, making Jane a rather cynical companion, though she balanced it with a dark sense of humor. Tessa had learned to ignore her dire pronouncements about the state of the world. She wasn’t worried about her safety, living by the docks on
Just then, the dark suited figure threw down the cigarette butt and began a leisurely stroll down the street towards the two women.
“OK, then. See you tomorrow.”Tessa knocked the ashes from her pipe and replaced it in the pouch as Jane’s conversation wound down. Now that she no longer had the phone call to distract her, Jane launched into her favorite tirade. “I should show you some slides of squamous cell carcinoma. When are you going to give up that disgusting habit?”
Tessa frowned at her in mock anger. “Tomorrow is Saturday, you know. Working too hard is just as bad for your health as smoking.”
Jane shrugged as they started along the street again. “We are short staffed, but the boss doesn’t want to hire anyone new.” She stared out into the bay, at the lights reflected in the water. “One of these days, I swear I am going to buy a boat and just sail away.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. She had heard this all before, many times. “You need to learn to handle one first, Jane. The yacht club has lessons on the weekends. Why don’t we go sometime?”
“I’d love to but...” A muffled bang and tremor made her quickly turn her head. “What was that? Sounded like something heavy hitting the ground.”
“Probably just someone else working too hard. This is an industrial area, after all.” Tessa grinned as Jane made a face at her.
Neither noticed the thing in the dark suit picking up speed as it closed the distance between them. A second dark figure slid from around the corner of the next cross street.
“Hey! Over here!”
Tessa stopped and peered across the lane. A tall man with long reddish-blond hair waved and shouted in their direction.
Jane followed her gaze. “Who is that? Do you know him?”
“Nope, I don’t go for the crazy types, myself. Shall we keep walking and ignore him?”
Jane nodded and clutched Tessa’s arm a little tighter. “Just head for the corner. There’s another guy up there and he looks big enough to handle Thor. We can always play damsels in distress...”
The blond man waved his arm. “Which one of you lovely ladies wants to be my friend for the evening? I have lots of money!”
Jane snorted in disgust. “What a creep! I have a mind to...”
He whistled appreciatively and waggled his hips. “Come on, baby. You know you want me.”
Tessa held on to Jane, who had been about to cross the road. “Let’s just run for it. I know a shortcut through the buildings.” Tessa lunged confidently under a sheet of rusty corrugated iron, before dragging Jane along a path that wound between the closely set warehouses and over a board bridge crossing a narrow canal. They conducted much of this retreat in pitch darkness, but within ten minutes they were at the door of Tessa’s cottage, Seadrift, out of breath but unharmed.
* * * *
Once he saw the women depart, the blond man stopped shouting and loped across the road, cutting off the two black-suited creatures from their prey. He waited for them in the mouth of the alley.
“Evening, gentlemen. How nice to see you again. Sorry to interrupt, but you will have to abandon your little game for this evening. I believe we have some unfinished business.” He withdrew a stout length of iron chain from behind his back and twirled it suggestively.
The dark suited ones did not speak. One gazed back at him, its eyes cold with impenetrable loathing. They were very like the eyes of a seagull; always hungry, always angry. Jakob studied its face, thinking how a Polydactyl almost, but not quite, managed to look human. In the harsh glare of the mercury vapor lamp its skin looked bluish — pale as a cadaver, and unnaturally smooth, like some sort of demonic infant. But Jakob knew of another quite important difference, one hidden by the boots that covered its feet.
“Shall we get started?”
They stepped towards him, with their fingers flexed wide.
The Polydactyls did not carry weapons. They had no need, for they each had the strength of a dozen men, and the dogged determination of a hundred. You couldn’t stop them unless you killed them. But Jakob was not afraid. He had plenty of strength of his own and far more imaginative ways to use it.
He backed into the alleyway, and they followed. As the first one made a grab for him, he swung the chain hard, wrapping it around his assailant’s arm. With a twist of Jakob’s brawny shoulders, the first Polydactyl slammed in to the second. Both fell in a tangled heap amongst a row of empty metal drums, creating a deafening clamor. They stood again, hardly scratched, and sauntered forward.
Jakob tutted. “You creeps just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He slashed the chain across both his assailant’s faces, laying the flesh open to the bone. Clear fluid dripped down, leaving little smoking rivulets that stained the concrete yellow. Neither Polydactyl slowed their advance. Jakob backed up, realizing too late he had stepped into a trap
* * * *
Jane watched Tessa poke at the glowing heap of coals in the fireplace. “How in the hell do you do that?”
“Well, I just put a lot of wood on...”
She gave a groan of frustration. “Not that, stupid! I meant run full speed in the dark, and find your way through all those passages. I don’t know anyone with night vision as good as yours.”
Tessa scratched her head. “It’s just something I have always been able to do. Gran said I was blessed by the faeries.”
“Fairies, eh?” She took a sip of coffee and nestled back on Tessa’s threadbare couch amongst the profusion of throws, pillows and stuffed animals. “Your grandmother sounds like quite an eccentric. Probably where you get it from.”
Tessa stood and gave the fire another fierce prod. “She was amazing. I was so lucky to have her.”
Jane shrugged. “Sorry. I forget sometimes how close you two were.”
“She was the only family I had, remember?” Tessa handed Jane a tattered leather-bound volume. “Here is the journal I was telling you about. I have only read a few pages, but it looks like it was an account of Suvi’s wartime experiences. She must have translated it into English when she came here. I wonder why she would have bothered?”
Jane hazarded a guess. “Maybe she wanted someone else to read it? Which war are we talking about anyway? World War One?”
“I don’t know yet. None of the place names are at all familiar. She seems to be living in a place called Severnessa. Have you ever heard of it?”
Jane shook her head as she nibbled at some bitter chocolate, and chased it with coffee. “Not Inverness, like in
“No, it definitely says Severnessa. Grandmother had perfect handwriting. See? Take a look.”
Jane did. Tessa was right — the names were exotic. Berengarth. Arkanjela.
“So who did you fall in love with? That is what I really want to know.” Jane gave Tessa a sly glance.
“Here is an early entry from April 7th.” Tessa pointed to the neatly printed script. “She’s talking about her friend, Ludde. He is a fisherman who lives along the coast from her:
Ludde is forty, perhaps, but he seems much older, like a relic from times past. In his dark blue eyes I see the depths of the ocean, where such creatures hide as never see the light of the sun. He is a mystery to me, is Ludde. As strong as three grown men put together, but as ignorant as a child about the ways of the world. Doesn’t talk much except when he is drinking.
But in his quiet way, he is a friend, maybe the only one I have since I started Carina. He gives me enough smoked fish to feed the children and Chelah, and in return, I mend his rough fisherman’s clothes or cut his long hair. It is the color of a Dureg’s mane, and just as thick.
Jane’s tone was teasing. “I didn’t know you went for strong and silent. Ted is more the weak and whiny type if you ask me.”
Tessa frowned. “I didn’t. Ask you, that is.” Then she changed the subject. “What’s a dureg; any idea?”
Jane shrugged. “Never heard of it. Must be some weird African animal.”
* * * *
Spying a rusty fire escape ladder ten feet above his head, Jakob jumped straight up and caught the lowest rung. He kicked hard and sent the Polydactyls reeling backwards. Before they could regain their balance, he was on top of them, laying in a series of bone-shattering punches. They took them, all of them, without so much as a grunt. Jakob decided it was time to end the fight. From a baldric slung across his back, he withdrew a long two-handed sword with a jeweled hilt. It gleamed cold and blue in the light of the street lamps.
With a fearsome cry that sounded something like “Asta ne faircorwan,” Jakob was upon them, blade flashing. He beheaded the closest Polydactyl, and gave a cry of pain as its smoking blood splashed against his bare arm. This distraction almost cost him his life. The second waded in and grabbed him by the waist, locking his hands at his sides. Jakob felt his ribs compressed to the cracking point. He snapped his head forward in a vicious butt that smashed the Polydactyl’s nose, spraying his chest with more blood. His captor responded by tightening its grip until Jakob’s head swam in agony.
Twisting his wrist, Jakob managed to turn his sword so that the blade faced upwards. Using all his strength, he forced his right arm downward, so that he could bend it at the elbow. Then, leaning forward, he brought his face close and bit hard on the Poly’s broken flesh. It gave a tiny grunt but loosened its hold slightly. Jakob felt as though he had swallowed burning oil as his mouth and throat erupted into fiery pain. “Garr... Die, you shite stain. Die for what your kind did to Maia.”
With another cry, Jakob forced his sword between the Poly’s legs and brought it straight upwards, cleaving its gonads and then its pelvis cleanly in half. As its legs went from under it, the Poly let go of Jakob and dropped without making a sound. It writhed mechanically, like some crippled insect, still trying to rise, to attack again. Jakob finished it off with a calculated thrust through the heart, then used his shirt to wipe as much of the caustic blood from his skin as he could. When he got home, he would bathe in vinegar to neutralize the rest. But for now, he had some tidying to do. He stuffed the severed head into the shirt of its former owner, picked up the bundle and disappeared, with a rush of displaced air. After a moment, he returned, and shouldered the other body. Then he stepped away again, into silence. The alkali that remained in the alley would occasion little comment in an industrial area.
* * * *
Jane spent a few moments idly perusing the journal, then put it back on the table, next to the mirror. “So what’s next, girl detective?”
Tessa’s eyes lit with enthusiasm. “I’ll do some research at the Beckwith Library, first off. I want to find out more about my grandmother’s life. She never told me any of this stuff when I lived with her. There must be a record of these places somewhere.”
“What about that dig in Anenoa? I thought you were supposed to be spending all your spare time on that.”
“On Ted’s holy grail? It can wait. He’s been sending his graduate students there for years. No one has found a single bone yet — though according to local legend it’s supposed to be the location of some kind of relic sacred to the Irrakish. Ted located the site years ago, as a student, and he’s convinced we’ll find something if we keep digging.”
“Well, you know Ted. Head like a breeze block.”
Tessa grimaced at this unkindness. “He gave up on it for awhile. Then about six months ago he started again, and told me I should reopen the dig. He promised it would be good for both our careers. So I did. But I haven’t found much of anything — unless you count potsherds and vegetable matter. Still, though...” She paused and shook her head.
“Still what?”
“There is something odd about it. Strange shell and bead necklaces, and the remains of a high earthwork, like nothing else in the area. I don’t blame Ted for being interested in it — I get the feeling there is something there, too.” Tessa laughed self-deprecatingly. “Listen to me — I’m starting to sound like him.”
“Guess I should get moving.” Jane stood and stretched. “Got an early date with some slides in the morning.”
“Are you going to walk back?” Tessa had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“No, I don’t think so. As I’ve tried to tell you many times, the streets are dangerous at this time of night. I’ll ring Smitty at Ace Cabs. He owes me a favor.” She dug in her purse for her mobile, then grumbled, “No proper phone service in the boondocks, of course.” After making the call, Jane settled back to finish her coffee.
Tessa stared at the fire for a long while before she spoke again. “You know that word — boondocks — actually has nothing to do with docks or water? It’s from a Tagalog word, bundok, which means mountain. American GI’s brought it back to the
“Thanks for the lecture, Professor Kivelson.”
Tessa sighed. “I wish I was a professor. Right now, I’m only Assistant Instructor Kivelson. But,” she added, brightening, “Ted says he has me on a fast track for tenure. All I have to do is...”
“Everything he says,” Jane finished for her, as the cab’s horn sounded. “Stick to the ghost, that’s my advice. You will be better off in the long run. Ciao!”
“Bye-bye,” Tessa called to Jane, and then circumnavigated her little house, closing all the shutters against the chill mist coming in off the bay.
Grandmother Markku’s cottage stood within a cluster of tumbledown fishing shacks, their boards as bleached as washed up bones on the shoreline. But flashes of color — lines of limp nets hung to dry, potted petunias, overturned rowboats — belied this lifelessness. Little
Little
Most of her neighbors came and went with the seasons. Wintertime meant few permanent occupants. Joe Romine, the retired fisherman. Ellie Rayne, an elderly woman who lived alone. Recently a plume of smoke had appeared above a ramshackle combination house and boatshed on the edge of the settlement, but Tessa hadn’t met whoever had moved in there yet.
Ted’s nasal voice rang in her head. “Sell up, Tessie. You are starving while you sit on a goddamn gold lobster pot.”
It was a long-standing argument between them. But Tessa would never evict Captain Romine or Miss Rayne or any of the others from their homes, nor would she join Ted in his soulless gated community on the other side of town.
The water slapped the shore, but otherwise the night seemed eerily quiet, almost ice-locked. A white ring shone dully around the moon.
“Beware girl. ’Tis a night for faerie mischief,” Gran would have said.
She felt a curious thrill of not-quite-fear and then shook it off, chastising herself for letting Jane’s dour pronouncements get to her. Nevertheless, when Tessa went inside she locked her door, something she would normally not bother to do.
After blowing out the lantern in the front room, she went into the largest of the three closet-sized bedrooms, the one that had once belonged to Suvi Markku. She undressed quickly and got into bed. Seadrift had no outside electrical power, only a small solar panel that fed a battery. Clouds had swallowed the moon, leaving it very dark inside. Tessa waited for sleep, but it did not come.
“Maybe if I read a little.” Tessa spoke out loud as she reached for the journal and her book light. She started with the entry dated April 17th.
A curious thing happened as I was on my way back from Fredrik’s...
Suvi
The Snake child will require a great deal of socialization in order to fit in with the other dark Soli. Expect aggressive behavior on the part of boys. Girls may be shy and withdrawn. Work to be taken home will likely be returned unfinished. A Snake child will become a service worker as an adult, so education should be strictly practical with plenty of physical activity.
Know Your Students — a Junior Educator’s Handbook to the Soli, Severnessan Ministry of Stations
* * * *
The blackout rules made the streets very dark. Suvi could not even use the lamp on her motapede to see her way along Rikard Svaate, but as there were no caravelos on the road she felt safe enough. She passed barely visible houses, their windows blanketed or shuttered to keep in the light. No one wanted to give the Berengarthen aeroplanes a target.
Her hands, though they were clothed in heavy fur gauntlets, felt almost numb, and Suvi guessed the temperature must be well below freezing. She would have to watch for patches of ice on the road ahead. The crater-sized potholes left by the bombs filled quickly with water and froze, leaving some parts of the thoroughfare like a skating rink. She paused to wrap a muffler more tightly over her mouth and cheeks, and then set off along the road again, pedaling madly to restart the engine.
She heard the squeal of brakes seconds before she saw the caravelo. A dark hump appeared at the edge of her peripheral vision, and then she was on the ground, with her motapede lying on her chest. Headlights, diffused with pieces of blue paper, provided sudden dim illumination.
“Shit!” Suvi heard the cold thunk of a door slamming. “Did I hit someone? Where are you?”
“Over here.” Suvi struggled to push the pede away from her.
His accent was strange. “Jeez, where did you come from?” A pair of hands lifted away the cycle and Suvi sat up, a little shakily. “Are you all right?”
“I... I think so. But...” Suvi patted her pockets frantically. “The medicine — it was in a glass bottle. I hope...” She withdrew a brown paper bag and shook it carefully. The sound of liquid sloshing around inside reassured her. “No, it is all right, thank goodness.”
The man squatted before her and produced a battery powered light. He switched it on, and flicked it over Suvi for a cursory inspection. The sight of her torn stocking and scraped knee made him whistle in dismay. “Damn, I am sorry. Do you think you can stand?” He held out a huge leather-gloved hand and she took it, feeling like a child.
Suvi scrambled to her feet. Her leg stung in the cold wind but held her weight. “I am fine — really. It is just a scratch.” She strained her eyes, trying to see her companion’s face as he righted her motapede. The darkness didn’t permit much. “My name is Suvi Markku.” Suvi stuck out her hand. “And you are?”
“Jack.” His voice was quick with impatience. “Well, if you are sure you are all right, Miss, I had better get going.”
Suvi took the handlebars of the motapede from him, wondering what his hurry was. She pushed it forward and felt unexpected resistance. “Wait! My pede is broken, and I need to get home right away. Can you give me a lift?” She could see the man’s silhouette framed by the moonlight as he strode away from her. He was very tall.
His muttered oath hung in the icy air between them like an accusation. “Sorry, but I am on my way to an important briefing. As a matter of fact, I am late already. Why don’t you just leave your motorbike here and walk back? I can send someone to get it in the morning.”
Suvi glared at him. “It is another four miles, at least. I can’t walk that far in the dark and anyway there is a sick child waiting for this medicine. If you hadn’t run into me I would be there already!” Forgetting her injury, she stamped her foot hard on the icy road and then grimaced with pain.
He became unexpectedly agreeable. “OK, OK — don’t bite my head off!” The man waved his hands and grinned. A very full moustache covered his upper lip, but the gap between his front teeth showed plainly beneath it. Suvi found it strangely comforting.
“Does o-kay mean yes in your tongue?”
He laughed at this and shook his head sheepishly. “Sure does, little lady. Now hop in the car while I load your bike in the back.”
She limped towards the vehicle. Even in the dark, she could appreciate its size and luxury. In wartime Severness, only a very rich man or a high-ranking officer of the Harriers could afford to drive such a velo. As she pulled open the door, Suvi wondered which one Jack might be.
The velo smelled of kaffa and tabac.
“I don’t think your bike is banged up too badly,” he called, as he lugged it round.
Thick brown file folders, bound with string, littered the front seat. Suvi pushed them out of the way and then stared at the sheaf of papers that lay underneath. Some of the documents were quite clearly labeled “Priority Code Blue.”
The velo bounced as her pede landed in the trunk. The man slammed the lid. She could hear the squeak of the snow under his boots as he walked back around to the driver’s side. Suvi quickly re-stacked the remaining files before tucking the secret dossier into her coat.
“Where to?” The man joined Suvi in the velo, and peered at her through the darkness. “Were you going to Schippendorff?” He named a small collection of houses close to the river.
She shook her head. “Not to the Rose community, no. My home is a little before there, on Wharfan Svaate.”
In the dim light of the dashboard, she studied his clothing. His dark overcoat bore no rank insignia. Rich, then — not military. So why did he have the files?
“But that is all bombed out warehouses and factories, isn’t it?”
“Mostly, yes. But there are one or two dwellings as well. People nowadays must shelter wherever they may.”
The caravelo bumped along the road in the darkness, seemingly finding every pothole. The silence between them seemed almost as cold as the outside air. Suvi broke it first. “But where are you from, Jack? Your accent is not one I am familiar with.”
He kept his eyes straight ahead. “From offshore. My wife and I came here last year.”
Wife? What sort of man would bring his wife to a war zone?
Suvi could think of no other questions to ask. Soon they passed into a built up area, once home to many prosperous industries. Most had been bombed into piles of rubble, but a few structures remained more or less intact.
They passed a dreary looking red brick building with boarded windows. Suvi cleared her throat. “You can let me off here.”
The caravelo slowly ground to a halt beside some tall sliding doors, chained together and securely padlocked. Jack looked over to her. “Are you sure? This doesn’t look like any kind of place for a young girl to stay. It must be cold and empty inside.”
Suvi frowned. “I am twenty-one years old, if you don’t mind. Thank you for the lift. May I have my motapede back?”
“Let’s leave it in the trunk for now. I’ll get one of the boys over in the workshop to take a look at it tomorrow. Someone will bring it round after it is fixed, OK?”
“Please don’t trouble yourself. I feel bad enough for dragging you out of your way like this.” Suvi peered anxiously at him through the driver’s side window.
“It isn’t any trouble. But where can they find you?”
“Tell them to knock on the side door and ask for Suvi. Someone will know where I am.” She gave him a wry grin. “O...K...?”
Jack smiled back. “Whatever you say, little lady. It was nice meeting you. So long.”
“Good-bye. And thank you — for everything.”
Suvi turned from him and headed to the side door, carefully avoiding the piles of twisted rubble that littered the outside of the three-story building. She didn’t see Jack pull his coat collar askew and speak into it, as though he had a friend hidden in his breast pocket. “The pigeon has pecked the crumb.”
The velo sped away with the crunch of spinning tires on gravel.
* * * *
Marja Kinnik met her at the door. “Did you get it? What took you so long?”
Suvi nodded and patted her pocket. A lie sprang easily to her lips. “I hit a bomb crater in the dark and took a tumble off my pede.”
Marja spied the rip in her stockings and gave a cry of dismay. “Suvi! Are you all right? I have been so worried about Riku I didn’t even think to ask...”
“I am fine. I got a ride back with a farmer. Come on, let’s go give your boy the medicine right now. Then we can both stop worrying.”
Marja and Suvi passed through a dimly lit hallway, into the main building. “How did you manage? I mean — didn’t the chemist ask questions?”
“I told him I had milk sickness and he hurried me out of there as fast as he could.”
“But wasn’t it expensive?”
“Don’t worry. I think I have just found us a new source of income.” Suvi patted the papers in her pocket but didn’t say anything else.
The bottom floor of the warehouse stretched cavernously before them, but it was not empty — not at all. The quiet murmur of conversation filled the air with the warmth of company. Great hanks of silk hung from the ceiling — old parachutes, strung up like silk tents. Each glowed softly, lit from the inside by oil lamps.
Marja led the way between two aisles. She kept her voice low. “The Kopjicks have been fighting again. I think the Mister has been drinking.”
Suvi tutted. “I will add some extra chores to the roster for him. If he is tired perhaps he will not be so argumentative. I need someone to set up more crates, anyway. There will be more people coming from the
Each parachute house had a number pinned to the side. Marja stopped at 22 and lifted the flap. Within lay a few bits of rickety furniture — a once-luridly flowered armchair, now faded to tranquility, a table with one leg propped on a stack of books, and two pallets on the rough board floor. A small kerosene heater took the chill off, but left a persistent odor in the air.
A pale thin-faced boy lay on one of the pallets. He looked to be sleeping, but when Marja knelt, his eyes fluttered open. They were pale blue and watery with pain. “Mother?”
“Yes, my angel, I am here. And so is Suvi. She has made a special trip to Saximaa to fetch some medicine for you.”
He blinked rapidly, as though the dim light hurt his eyes. “Thank you. Will it make me better? My head hurts so much.”
Suvi stroked his forehead gently. “Yes. I hope so. But you will have to be patient, because Dr. Fredrik said it takes a long while to work.” She spoke now to Marja. “Give him one teaspoon, four times a day. And there is some lilium in there for pain, but be careful with it. There are others here who might steal it if they knew you had some.”
“I will give him some now, and then you keep the rest locked in the office. No one would dare take it from you, Suvi.”
Just then, raised voices filtered through the silk. “It is ours, I tell you. There isn’t room for the likes of you...”
Suvi patted Marja’s arm and then left the tent, calling back, “Meet me in the office when you have finished.”
She followed the sound of the argument across the warehouse floor, to a line of wooden crates along the far wall. Most had blanket curtains, and pallets inside. A sullen looking boy with unruly straw-colored hair paced back and forth. His belongings made an untidy pile on the floor.
Suvi frowned. “What is the trouble?”
An iron-grey head popped from behind the blanket. “I already told him, this place belongs to the Birdlings. We won’t have no Snakes here.”
The boy’s pale blue eyes were pleading. “They told me if I came here it wouldn’t matter what I was.” He pulled up the sleeve on his tattered jersey, exposing a tattoo on his forearm. “I am a Snake, yes, but my folks were killed in the attack on Jaarvik Vilaag. The Grond sent bombers, destroyed everything in the town — even the church and the hospital. I got nowhere else to go.”
Suvi smiled and patted his shoulder. “You are welcome at Carina, my friend. Your Soli is not important here.”
The old woman frowned and launched into another tirade. “Well, where I came from, in Ruvers Vilaag, we was all Birdlings, good and proper. No one associated with...”
Suvi cleared her throat and spoke gently. “That was the way, Goodwife Teggr, but here at Carina we have a different arrangement. Everyone, regardless of Soli, lives and works together. Spear and Dog, Rose and Star.” Goodwife Teggr opened her mouth to argue but Suvi said firmly, “Even Snake and Birdling. You were told as much when you came here two months ago, begging for shelter.”
She turned back to the boy. “What is your name?”
“Calaan.”
“Well, Calaan. This is Goodwife Teggr. Please offer your hand to her.”
He looked quite shocked at this suggestion. “Shake hands with a Birdling? In Jaarvik we...”
Suvi kept her reproof gentle. “There is no Jaarvik here, or Ruvers. Only Carina, where all are the same. Please shake her hand, as a gesture of your understanding.”
He frowned, but stuck out his hand. Goodwife Teggr shook it quickly and then withdrew into her box with an audible “Humph.”
Suvi smiled. “Good. Now I believe there is an empty crate here, three along from your new friend.” She walked along and tapped on the side of a rickety looking box. Once she had swept aside the blanket, the boy crawled inside. “You will need a pallet to sleep on. Ask the Goodwife where we keep them. Breakfast will be at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. After breakfast, come to the office and I will add you to one of the work details.”
Calaan stared at Suvi. “Miss? Who runs this place? I’d like to thank them.”
“She does.” Goodwife Teggr’s muffled voice came from within her box. “And a damned fine job she does too. A lot of folks would be dead now, if not for Suvi Markku.” The woman crawled out, and rose stiffly to her feet. “Come on, young one. I will show you the storeroom. But don’t forget I am a Birdling, and better than the likes of you.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Calaan looked thoroughly abashed.
The Goodwife continued to lecture the boy as they walked away. Suvi watched them head for the stairs leading to the gallery that overhung the first level and served as the storeroom. Then she yawned hugely, and made her way back towards her own living quarters.
A young woman, clutching the hand of a child, stopped her. “The lavatory’s backed up in Six again. Stinks something awful.”
Suvi tried unsuccessfully to smother another yawn. “Goodman Grein is a plumber. Number 10. See if he can help. If not, you will just have to use the lavs in Eight. I’ll send a detail first thing in the morning to clean Six.”
“All right.” The young mother sighed in resignation. “Did you find any coats yet? My little girl is freezing.” Suvi looked at the child, whose skin did seem tinged with blue. She sneezed and then ran a grimy sleeve over her nose.
Suvi took off her own cardigan, and wrapped it around the child’s shoulders. “Let her have that for now. I will find a better one for her tomorrow.”
“May the gods bless you. There was never another Harp as kind, Miss Suvi.”
“Goodnight, Stella. Remember, in Carina we are...”
”All kinds and all kind,” the little girl finished for her, as she hugged Suvi’s cardigan for warmth.
Suvi smiled. “Well done, Saraa. That is exactly right.”
It took her another fifteen minutes to reach the far side of the warehouse, as she had to stop several times to answer questions or settle other newcomers. At last, she reached a solid-looking oak door and unlocked it with the key she carried on a chain around her neck. This room had once belonged to the factory manager, but thieves had ripped up and taken away the paneling and plush carpeting long ago.
A degum wound herself round Suvi’s legs, grumbling. She reached to stroke the silky fur along her crest. “Hungry, Chelah? I have something I saved from dinner. Here you go...”
She tore up a piece of tough, gristly meat and some bread crusts on a saucer and placed it on the ground. The degum’s cowl-like ears swiveled forward as she mewled with pleasure. Her sticky tongue darted in and out, and soon cleaned off the dish.
“We will have to visit Ludde soon, and get you some fish.” Suvi scratched the degum’s hairless crown. Her pet arched her back in pleasure.
Suvi stared longingly at the metal framed bed against the wall. Chelah jumped on the faded quilt covering the mattress and started to wash herself. Suvi smiled. “That’s right. You warm it for me. But I need to finish the bookkeeping and have a look at the papers I borrowed, before I turn in.” Chelah’s tongue paused and she made a querulous sound. Suvi frowned. “All right, have it your way — the papers I stole.
* * * *
Suvi rose early, and went to the kitchen. The factory had once been home to several hundred workers, and though looters had ransacked the cooking facilities since the war started, some of the brick ovens still stood intact. The breakfast detail had been working since five o’clock, kneading and shaping loaves of black bread, making soup and churning thin cream for butter. Carina’s population was something like two hundred refugees now, and they all received two hot meals a day.
She spoke to Goodwife Brini, who was busy chopping a head of cabbage. “Did you find any more vegetables?”
Brini, a broad-faced Wheat clan matriarch, shook her head. “Nay, but I am sending more folk out today. We will hunt along Friga Svaate. The Grond dropped a ton of bombs in there last week. Burned a whole neighborhood — only houses, mind you, nothing to do with the war. Most of the folk what still live are here now, and several told me they had root cellars buried in muck. We’ll dig up what we can.”
“Farmer Jonai has agreed to let some of our people glean his barley fields. I plan to send a detail there today, if the weather gets warm enough.” Suvi uncovered a huge pot of boiling cabbage, tasted the broth and added a handful of salt. The pungent, slightly sulfurous scent filled the kitchen, making her stomach contract. Dinner seemed a long time ago.
“Easy with that. We haven’t got more than two meals worth left, and who knows where we will get more.”
“I will find us some.” Suvi moved on towards the dining room. “Someone joined us last night — from Jaarvik. There used to be a salt mine near there. Maybe he knows something of it.”
“A Snake?” Brini’s cheeks reddened in disapproval.
“A boy. Who was orphaned by the Grond. He came to Carina for shelter, and now he is one of us. Goodwife Teggr has adopted him.”
Brini scowled and went back to the cabbage, slamming her knife hard through the next head. No matter what Suvi said, a Snake could bring no good to Carina. They were dirty and dishonest — the lowest of the Dark.
Muffled shouts filtered through the swinging doors that led to the dining area. Suvi hurried away, calling over her shoulder, “Send one of the details to lower Rikard Svaate. It was bombed two days ago. See if anyone there needs shelter.”
The dining room used to be the factory floor. Heaps of rusted machinery lay in the corners, but trestle tables marched in an orderly line down the center. A group of motley-looking people stood before an open pass-through to the kitchen, clutching bowls and plates. A very red-faced girl, a Dog named Janie, one of the kitchen detail, waved her ladle defiantly. As Suvi had feared, Calaan was once again a source of trouble. He stood back, shoulders hunched in mortification. Goodwife Teggr stood beside him, glaring.
“He lives with us Birdlings. If we can tolerate him then so can you, Dog girl.”
The girl shrieked. “I won’t serve a Snake. It isn’t proper.” Many of the residents murmured agreement.
Suvi, who had been up half the night figuring ways to keep Carina solvent with very limited funds, lost her temper, something she rarely did. Grabbing the ladle from the girl, she clambered onto the hatch counter and stood above the assembled residents, breathing hard. “Stop this, right now! Calaan came to us, asking for shelter, the same as every one of you. Would you have me send him away?”
“Let him go to his own kind,” a man bellowed from the back.
“Shall I, Billu Shipman?” Suvi furiously pointed the ladle at him. “And when you came, with your pregnant wife and two cold and hungry children, should I have listened to the Roses who said they could never live in the same room as a stinking man from the Ships? Should I have sent you back to bombed-out Mersiing?”
Billu looked at the infant he held in his arms and fell silent.
Suvi spoke with determination. “At Carina there are no Solis.” She stared at the tattoo on her arm. “That is how I chose to run this refuge, even though I am a Harp, the highest of the Bright. Now, if there is any man or woman here who would like to take my place and do things differently, let them speak.”
Everyone seemed very interested in the flooring beneath their feet. No one said anything. Suvi nodded. “I thought so. Now, there will be convocation next Friday, at six o’clock, to discuss the allocation of further space in the south building. Each group must send two representatives, and after we will have a Carina-wide festival banquet.”
Many of the children clapped their hands and shouted. Billu Shipman’s wife spoke shyly. “Will there be music?”
“Yes, and dancing.” Suvi jumped from the counter on the kitchen side, still holding the ladle, and turned to Janie. “I will finish the serving for today. Get your breakfast and then join the cleaning detail going to Six.”
Janie groaned in dismay.
Goodwife Teggr chuckled as she held forth her bowl. “That’ll teach you to be fussy about who you serve, girlie. We don’t regard Bright and Dark here at Carina.”
Suvi bit her tongue, thinking that Teggr the Birdling had been singing a different tune last night. Calaan, with his head well down, gave her an apologetic bow as he received his serving. As the lowest of the Dark, Snakes were far more used to waiting on others.
“Come to the office after you eat. Teggr can show you where it is.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He shuffled after the Goodwife. “Thank you.”
* * * *
Back in the office, Suvi sat before a huge roll-top desk. Papers protruded from every pigeon hole, and most required her attention. “I have too much on my plate, Chelah,” she said ruefully. “But the most important thing is to figure out what to do with those papers. I was too tired to examine them properly last night.”
Suvi opened the folder and squinted in the low light. “Operation Pincer,” she read aloud to the degum, who sat on the desk beside her. “Wonder what that is about?” A tap on the door made her jump, and Chelah’s back arch. Suvi hurriedly tucked the file into her desk drawer, and locked it. “It’s open,” she called.
Calaan came in, arms laden with belongings. He seemed curiously resigned. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” Suvi looked at him in surprise. “You, but not your possessions. Why didn’t you leave them in your box?”
“I... I thought I would be leaving. Snakes don’t belong...”
“Didn’t you hear what I said at breakfast? Everyone is welcome here.” She smiled at Calaan and waited until he raised his eyes to meet hers. After a moment, he smiled in return, but couldn’t quite hide his baffled expression. “That is better. Now, can you read? Or write? I need to know which detail to put you in.”
He nodded proudly. “My parents sent me to
Suvi’s ears pricked up. “Then I have just the job for you, Calaan. I want you to lead a detail of men there, and figure how we can get the trucks running again. Salt is scarce right now, and if we can get some more we might be able to sell the excess and make some money.”
His bafflement grew and grew. “You want me to lead them? A Snake?”
Her voice was firm. “Yes. You.” Suvi consulted the list posted on the wall and then the clock next to it. “I place you in charge of Detail Twenty. They will be assembling in the front hall in approximately thirty minutes. Goodman Dietr will provide transport. Get a pantechnicon and enough fuel to get you there and back. Billu, in the workshop, will have the tools you need. Don’t let him give you any grief. All right?”
Suvi had been busy with other papers on her desk as she spoke, but she looked up when Calaan gave a small, choked sigh. She was very surprised to see he had tears in his eyes. “Why are you doing this? There is no call for one of the Bright to be kind to a Snake.”
She dragged a chair over to her desk and patted it. He sat on the very edge, as though worried he might somehow sully it. Suvi frowned. “Let me tell you why, Calaan. I was a foundling child, adopted at a very young age by a prosperous family. Many people told me how luck had smiled on me, to be adopted by Harps. And it is true, as a Harp, I grew up wanting for nothing. I had a Cloud governess, who taught me languages and arithmetic. My friends were clean and clever, just as I was, and one handsome lad had already agreed to marry me when the time came. But, even though I had many beautiful clothes, and a fine ten-roomed dollhouse to play with, I was not happy. My family owned the largest estate on
“You were a Harp, but you wanted to be a Ship?” Calaan guffawed, thinking this very funny.
“Yes, truly I did. One day, having finished my lessons, I stood alone in the tower, and watched as my parents took a stroll along the shoreline. My mother looked very beautiful in her white lawn dress and lace parasol. There was a child playing in the water, a Rat, I think she was. The wake from a passing Steamer swamped her, and she disappeared. Her mother screamed for help. I saw her beg my father to go to the child’s aid, but he only stepped around her and kept walking. The woman went into the water herself, and drowned, as did her daughter.”
Suvi closed her eyes, remembering the pitiful, sodden figures that the police dragged from the lake the next day. Her hands clenched and she realized she had crumpled a list of figures into a ball. Self-consciously, she smoothed it out.
“Well, who would help a Rat?” Calaan asked, with patient rationality. “They are almost as low as Snakes.”
Her amber eyes flashed. “I would have! And so I made up my mind that day that I belonged to no Soli. When he found he could not change my mind, my father threw my humble beginning back in my face, saying I must have come from the Rats I had wanted him to save. He sent me away to live with an Aunt and Uncle, Harps of course, but not so well off. Five months ago, they were killed, in the first Grond attack. My parents died in the second. Suddenly I had no place to live, along with many others — Rat, Dog, Star and Wheat. In suffering, at least, the war made the Soli equal. So I found this place and made it into a shelter. After a time, it got to be called Carina, after the Keel.”
“The star group? Is that because you wanted to be a Ship?”
Suvi shook her head, smiling. “Because it is a vessel that allows anyone to embark, as long as they are willing to work for their passage.”
“But...”
The rising whine of an air horn interrupted Calaan’s question. Suvi stood quickly but spoke without panic. “A three-blast warning. They must have slipped in over the mountains. Come on, we had better get to the shelter.”
Calaan’s eyes were wild. “The Grond can’t bomb here! I only just moved in. Where else can I go?”
She shook his arm, but he remained rooted to the floor in terror. “Calaan, move! We don’t have much time.” Six more short barks of the horn meant the attack was imminent. The roar of planes filled the space, making the walls vibrate. Suvi grabbed the boy and pulled him into the kneehole of the desk, just as a deafening blast shattered the remaining panes of glass in the office window.
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