Angel Arias Page 2

  The idea of holidays was strange to Naif. Some Seals took breaks on farm-stays where they worked to purify themselves. And sometimes the Elders went on retreat. But that was to the mountains north of the city, a place where they could be closer to the Grave Gods.

  ‘Pissing cosies!’ A voice spat at them as they settled themselves at a table in the corner of the huge dining room. Naif glanced over at those who were giving them hostile stares. Some of the young on Sanctus weren’t grateful for Ruzalia’s rescue. They knew that they had only a limited time left and they seemed to swing between maudlin and angry.

  In the last day or so, Naif had noticed that some acted particularly aggrieved, and had been watching Naif, Markes and Charlonge closely.

  ‘Why do they hate us so much?’ whispered Charlonge. ‘What have we done?’

  ‘They’re saying we’re being treated differently; given rooms on the south side, near Ruzalia’s apartments.’

  ‘Maybe we should ask to move to other rooms,’ said Charlonge.

  Naif shrugged. In her mind it didn’t matter; she would not be there much longer.

  ‘In the laundry this morning, one of them pushed me against the boiler,’ Charlonge added.

  Naif turned to her with alarm. ‘Char, why didn’t you say? Are you hurt?’

  ‘A burn,’ she said, sliding her dress up to show the bandage on her lower leg. ‘I went to the infirmary and Mesree put salve on it.’

  Mesree was one of Ruzalia’s crew and the oldest person on the island apart from her husband, Long-Li. While Mesree presided over meals and tended injuries, Long-Li repaired Ruzalia’s equipment with the same jealous zeal with which he guarded the pirate woman’s safety.

  One of the stories Naif had heard since coming to Sanctus claimed that Long-Li was Ruzalia’s father, Mesree her mother and the handful of pirates who sailed with her, her siblings. Naif didn’t believe those rumours, though she didn’t know why. Perhaps it seemed too easy an explanation. She sensed that their stories were more complicated.

  ‘Don’t go anywhere alone, Char,’ said Markes. ‘It’s not safe.’

  ‘Shhh!’ Charlonge warned.

  The three fell silent as others joined them, slapping their metal plates on the table with no regard for the mess they made.

  Naif detected a restlessness in the hall tonight that differed from the usual sombre mood. Neglected stew and dumplings simmered in the bain-marie at the back while the diners shifted between seats, talking in whispers.

  Once she saw the glint of a home-made knife being slipped up into a sleeve. The sight made her stomach clench.

  Was Ruzalia right to bring the young here? Or had she made matters worse? Many resented their chores and wanted to leave Sanctus. But leaving was not a simple matter. Where could they go?

  Naif missed Suki keenly at that moment. Her Stra’ha’ine friend would have something smart and practical to say. She would’ve faced down the aggressive stares of the group near them with her hands on her hips.

  ‘Why are you in the south-side rooms?’ called out one of the staring boys.

  He was dressed like all of them, in a plain and serviceable tunic and pants fashioned from cloth that Ruzalia had stolen from the merchant ships that skirted the Golden Spiral. Mesree sewed them all. There was none of the exotic silk and lace that the Ripers gave them on Ixion; just plain wools and cotton in faded dyes.

  ‘It’s where we were told to go,’ said Charlonge before Naif could reply.

  ‘Only Ruzalia’s people are on the south side,’ said another boy. ‘You must be hers.’

  ‘We’re all Ruzalia’s people,’ said Naif.

  ‘And what if we don’t want to be?’ the first chimed back in. ‘She forced us to come here.’

  He was as big as Markes but heavier, with an ugly set around his eyes and jaw. He puffed his chest to add force to his words.

  ‘She saved you,’ said Charlonge. ‘If you’d stayed there you’d have been withdrawn.’

  ‘I’m thinking that might not have been so bad. Maybe those stories about turning into Night Creatures were lies. Maybe Ruzalia’s just a sick twisted cow.’

  Naif pictured the church of Danksoi and the rows of young bodies being slowly subsumed so that Night Creatures could change.

  She’d told Ruzalia what they’d seen as the airship transported them away from Ixion.

  ‘They’ve found a way to evolve through the blood and flesh of our young. It must be stopped!’ Ruzalia had said.

  Ruzalia had planned to raze the churches and free all the runaways from Ixion. But what would happen to Lenoir if the pirate succeeded?

  That brought back another rush of memories; the Night Creature Leyste’s attack and how close she’d come to being killed. Lenoir had saved her. She owed him her life. She owed him . . . ‘It was the truth,’ said Naif finally.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what she keeps saying. But that doesn’t prove nothin’.’

  ‘You have a problem, Rajka?’ said a booming voice.

  Ruzalia was standing only a table away from them with Long-Li at her side.

  The boy half-stood as if he might lunge at the pirate but Long-Li stepped forward. He lifted his long plait from his shoulder and wound it into a tight knot. Then he took a sharp bone from his pocket and slid it through the knot to keep it in place. Smiling, he pushed back his sleeves.

  The boy’s friends grabbed his arms and pulled him back into his seat. He glowered at Ruzalia and Long-Li, but said no more.

  Around them, the rest of the hall had fallen silent. Watching.

  Ruzalia turned slowly on her heel, sweeping every last one of them with her gaze. ‘If anyone else would call me a liar then do so now.’

  Several looked like they might speak, then changed their minds, staring down at the floor to disguise their thoughts.

  The pirate nodded. ‘Then keep to your chores and enjoy your freedom.’

  She turned to Naif. ‘Outside. Follow.’

  With that she stalked from the hall.

  Long-Li watched Naif with an expectant gleam in his eyes.

  ‘Do you want us to come?’ Charlonge whispered in her ear.

  Naif looked at Long-Li. The old man shook his head ever so slightly.

  ‘No, Char. Stay close to Markes.’

  She followed Long-Li between tables and out through the huge carved doors, conscious of her stiff shoulders and straight back. Lenoir might have saved her life and opened her mind to many things, but beneath still lurked some of her rigid Seal upbringing. With the weight of stares upon her she almost felt grateful for it.

  Murmurs started up as soon as she left the hall.

  Long-Li led her through the foyer and out onto the front steps. The vista from La Galatea’s entrance was inspiring; wind-blown palms and a cool blue harbour tipped white by the fresh winds.

  Ruzalia leaned against a marble column that was pitted with age and flecked with dark moss. She was smoking a cheroot and allowing thin wisps of smoke to escape from the corner of her mouth. Her red hair appeared darker in the afternoon light; a deep colour like prayer wine.

  ‘I wish to speak to you of some things,’ said Ruzalia.

  Naif’s heart tripped. ‘Me. Why?’

  ‘You are Clash’s sister, and have shown some . . . spirit. That counts for something. But I need the opinion of one with a head on their shoulders. Do you have that as well? Mesree tells me you do.’

  ‘I-I have opinions, if that’s what you want?’

  ‘Sound opinions, not shallow needs.’

  They were both silent for a moment and then Ruzalia produced a drawing from her pocket and passed it across.

  The sketch was inked and the colour had faded; the paper was creased from being folded many times. But none of these things hid the vibrant and beautiful young face it portrayed.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ said Naif involuntarily.

  ‘My sister. Lost to that dreaded place,’ said Ruzalia.

  ‘Your sister is on Ixion?’

 
‘She was. But some years have passed and I’ve not been able to locate her. It is possible she was one of those in Danksoi.’

  Naif felt a moment of compassion for the pirate. ‘You’ve been searching for her. That’s why you raid the island.’

  Ruzalia shifted her feet. ‘I’ve given up finding her. But I would not have them suffer her fate.’

  ‘Even though they are still destined to die?’

  Ruzalia inhaled her cheroot deeply. ‘What do you think of my island?’

  Naif wrapped her arms around herself and glanced back to the front door. Long-Li stood there; other than him there was no one in sight. Even so, she stepped closer to Ruzalia so she could lower her voice.

  ‘You want my truth?’

  Ruzalia gave a curt nod.

  ‘It is a beautiful prison. They have little to do and no future. They’ll rebel against you.’

  Ruzalia shot her a fierce look. ‘You think this place worse than what you saw in Danksoi? You think it worse than the hideousness of what your friends were about to become?’

  Naif hesitated. Ruzalia was right. It was not like that.

  But it wasn’t enough to just bring them here to die. She sensed the trouble brewing as surely as if the knife she’d seen was being held to her own throat.

  ‘There must be a way to reverse the badges. Then they should be taken somewhere else. What about the over-agers from the barge? Where are they?’

  ‘I left them at the Port of Patience on the far side of the Spiral. There are ways to make a living there.’

  Port of Patience. Naif had not heard of it. Even from Suki.

  ‘Then why bring the others here?’

  ‘It would not be right to let them go in such a place, not when they have only a short time to live.’

  ‘Surely that is more reason?’

  ‘They are safer here,’ said Ruzalia firmly.

  Naif bit her lip in frustration. She began to frame her next argument but before she could continue, shouts rose from inside La Galatea.

  Ruzalia glared at Long-Li, who disappeared along the corridor with extraordinary speed for his age. He returned before either of them had reached the front door.

  ‘Strife, ma’am,’ he said.

  ‘Serious?’

  He nodded. ‘Enough.’

  ‘Call Jud and the Loboses from their watch, and get Plank from the beach. I want order in here NOW!’

  The old man sped away on his task.

  Ruzalia turned the full brunt of her glare upon Naif. ‘I do not like to be proved wrong. Don’t make a habit of it!’

  Naif hastened after Ruzalia as the pirate strode back into the dining hall.

  Inside was chaos; tables and chairs upturned, food spilled. For a moment there seemed to be more noise than danger, but then Naif saw the knife at Markes’s throat.

  Her heart contracted into a hard, painful ball.

  Charlonge stood near him, paler than a Riper. The boy who held the knife was the one who’d spoken to her earlier. His face burned with fury, his skin shiny with sweat. The hand that held the knife to Markes’s skin trembled as though it might slip at any moment.

  ‘Put it down, Rajka. Or Long-Li will have his say,’ said Ruzalia.

  The old man appeared in the doorway and sprang in front of Ruzalia to crouch like a predator. There was no age to his movement. Simply threat.

  ‘You think I couldn’t take him, Ruzalia? You think I couldn’t do them both?’

  Ruzalia crossed her arms, her mouth settling into a grim line. ‘I think you couldn’t. And that’s a fact, Rajka, not a challenge.’

  Perspiration trickled down from the boy’s hairline to his jaw.

  Ruzalia noticed it as well. She extended her scowl to his companions.

  Naif saw what she was looking at. They were all the same, sweating and glassy-eyed. They’d taken something and yet . . . there were no pods and beads on Ruzalia’s island. She searched everyone when they arrived and destroyed them.

  ‘Li.’ Ruzalia said the name so softly that Naif saw her lips move but barely heard it.

  Long-Li kicked the knife from Rajka’s hand before Naif could let go of her breath. It grazed Markes’s throat and then flew in a high arc, landing on the next table. Those standing near it moved out of its way.

  Or maybe it was the look that replaced Ruzalia’s frown that scared them. Lips pursed in fury, she lunged forward and smacked Rajka across the face with an open hand.

  The force made him stagger back. Before he could recover, she slapped him again, so hard this time that he fell to the floor. Then she pulled him up by his shirtfront until her lips were almost upon his.

  ‘Where did you get the beads?’

  Rajka stayed silent, his breath a little ragged.

  ‘I will give you one more chance to answer me. If you don’t, I’ll lock you in the low caves. You been down there, Rajka? The rats like it well. It’s damp and cold and very dark. The tide comes in and fills it so full that there’s no air left to breathe. Even if the undertow doesn’t pull you out, you’ll drown. Now: where – did – you – get – the – beads?’ She shook him hard as she spoke, so that his head jerked back and forth.

  Naif stole a glance around the hall. No one moved.

  ‘Don’t know watcha –’

  Ruzalia balled her fist and wound her arm back ready to hit him. Rajka was tall but Ruzalia was bigger, as tall as a Riper but strong and broad with it.

  ‘We got them from Jud,’ cried the girl in Rajka’s group. ‘Don’t hit him again. Please!’

  Ruzalia froze.

  As the entire hall held their breath, Ruzalia’s crew of pirates burst through the door: Jud, La and El Lobos and Plank. The Lobos twins led the way. They were small, agile-looking men with bald heads and blue skin from their myriad tattoos. Plank came last and by contrast seemed enormous and lumbering. His round face was made rounder by a huge wide mouth and gold front teeth. Between them was Jud. His dirty bandana had slipped down over one eye and he scratched at his long, straggling hair.

  All of them stopped inside the doorway, surveying the scene.

  Ruzalia let her grip on Rajka slacken and he stumbled as his feet took his own weight.

  The pirate didn’t seem to notice. She was looking at her men. ‘La. El. Take Jud to my rooms. Wait with him.’

  The meaning in her voice was clear.

  Jud glanced at the others and plunged back into the hall. They flew after him but Long-Li was the quickest, a blur in the corner of Naif’s sight as he leapt into Jud’s path.

  Jud threw out a hand to ward the old man off, but Long-Li dropped to his knees and in one fluid motion whipped a baton from inside his loose shirt. With a quick, emphatic movement he struck at Jud’s knees. There was a sickening crack and Jud collapsed screaming.

  Everyone began to talk at once, and Rajka hastened backwards to his friends.

  ‘Silence!’ roared Ruzalia. She vaulted onto a table, kicking plates aside. All eyes in the hall shifted from where Jud lay moaning, to Ruzalia’s imposing presence. ‘Eat and go about your chores and stop your filthy whispering!’

  The hall went quiet again; some nodding, some just looking down at their feet. Rajka held his tongue but smouldering anger had replaced the fear in his eyes. The girl who’d spoken up about Jud was clutching his arm as if holding him back.

  Ruzalia gave him a long and meaningful stare before climbing down from the table and leaving the others to drag Jud after her.

  After she and her crew had gone, voices rose in a quick spike of noise and everyone clustered in groups until a clanging brought all their attention to the back of the hall.

  Mesree stood next to the serving tables with a metal soup ladle in one hand and a heavy skillet in the other. A platter piled with hot cakes rested in front of her.

  Suddenly the clusters broke apart and merged into jostling lines. Only Rajka and his friends stayed at their tables, glowering at Markes, Charlonge and Naif.

  ‘Pissers!’ hissed Rajka.


  Naif felt Suki’s absence again, fiercely. Her friend would have known how to cut the boy’s sullen anger dead. So would Kero, or Joel or Dark Eve.

  To her surprise, Charlonge stepped in front of Markes. ‘You know Ruzalia bans bead and pods.’

  ‘Who is she to ban anything? This place is nothing more than a frossing prison. I’d prefer to be on Ixion.’

  ‘Then you’re even more stupid than you look,’ said Charlonge.

  She turned and grabbed Markes’s arm and towed him towards Mesree.

  Naif kept her focus on Rajka.

  ‘Ixion’s not the answer,’ she said to him as Charlonge and Markes joined the queue. ‘Not for any of us.’

  ‘Naif,’ called Charlonge. ‘Come.’

  Naif gave Rajka one last look. She knew that Ruzalia had not quelled him. There would be more trouble.

  She joined Charlonge and Markes in the line. Markes held a kerchief to his neck where the blade had pressed. A shallow cut, but a cut nonetheless. He looked rattled.

  Up ahead, Mesree bellowed clean-up instructions as she slammed hot cakes on plates. Those on kitchen duty had been dispensed to pick up chairs and mop the spills.

  Rajka and his group left the hall, ignoring her call for them to pitch in and help.

  ‘What did you say to him?’ Charlonge whispered.

  Naif shrugged. ‘The truth. But he won’t listen. Char, I’m worried. Others have knives too. I’ve been watching them.’

  ‘Do you think Ruzalia knows?’ she replied. ‘Should we tell her?’

  ‘Shhh,’ said Markes.

  People in the line were staring at them, and those closest seemed to be straining to hear their conversation. Though the tension in the room had eased there was still an air of watchfulness.

  None of them spoke again until they reached the servery table. Markes took his plate first and held it out.

  ‘You all right, young ’un?’ asked Mesree. The cook was as wide as she was tall, with beefy arms that showed she tended to muscle rather than fat. Her face was broad and her eyes deep-set, making her expression hard to read. She reached across the table and grabbed his shoulder to pull him forward so she could peer at his neck. ‘Come and see me at the infirmary later if that cut you got don’t stop bleeding.’