As the militia pass under an arch, their voices echo off cut stone above. Something changed when the cathedral clock struck one. The soldiers no longer bother about hiding in the shadows. Their voices get louder. Almost as if they want to be heard.
‘Sir,’ says Leona. ‘Permission to speak freely?’
Can’t believe people still use that phrase.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Any idea what’s going on?’
My laughter draws Simone to my side.
Anton’s still fussing over her sister. After a moment, he nods at something Sef says and heads for Vijay’s house. Stopping at the top of the steps to listen, he holds Paulo’s abattoir pistol combat-style as he goes through the door.
I send Leona to stand guard. As for Sef, she adjusts her gauzelike shawl. It’s probably coincidence her fingers lightly brush the top of her own breast. Actually, I’m sure it’s not.
‘Not your taste?’
Simone grins at my expression.
‘Thought not. You like the dyke.’
Takes me a moment to realize she means Leona.
‘Just needs a good fuck, eh?’ Her voice is mocking. ‘Think you would be up to it?’
I tell Simone the thought never entered my head.
Stepping close, she says, ‘It’s really true? My sister’s fiance is a friend of yours?’
There’s a smartness in her eyes missing from her sister. A deadly, snake-like smartness, which watches me watching her and calculates something.
My price, probably.
‘Well?’ she says.
I nod.
‘Can’t imagine where he’d have met you.’
Obviously, it doesn’t matter, because she steps closer still. Her breasts brush the front of my jacket. She knows it well enough. Her nipples stand hard, despite the warmness of the night.
‘That man,’ I say. ‘The one who walked away. He’s U/Free?’
Simone’s gaze narrows.
‘He looks U/Free,’ I tell her.
My hands are on her shoulders. And then they’re not, because one rests on her hip, and the other has dropped to the upper slope of her breasts.
My taste in women always was appalling.
Back in the day, women wanted to kill me for the silver in my pocket. Or because I couldn’t pay their price and they’d been too trusting to take the coins in advance. Now, it seems, they simply want to kill me.
Simone reminds me of Paper Osamu.
Both know that lust blinds men to their flaws and makes us stupid enough to do what is asked. And Simone intends to ask something. Her lips keep moving. It’s not passion or some strange sadness. She’s working out the words inside her head.
‘So,’ I say. ‘He’s U/Free?’
Simone nods.
‘Met a U/Free once,’ I tell her. ‘On a battlefield. She was there as an observer. To make sure we slaughtered each other according to the rules.’
Simone glances at me to see if I’m joking.
I’m not.
Still, she’s relieved. She thinks that’s how I know what U/Free look like. As if it’s hard. They look like us, just richer and smugger and better-looking.
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘At a party,’ she says, deciding the truth can’t hurt. ‘The Senate gave a party for the new U/Free ambassador and her husband. I was invited.’
Simone says this with real pride. So I guess most people weren’t.
Weird place, Farlight.
Somehow my hand slips to caress her buttock. From the way her mouth opens, the tip of her tongue appears and her pupils get larger, she’s acutely aware of what’s happening. ‘Look. Your friend’s in danger. People are hunting him.’
How does she know that?
She must see the query in my eyes. ‘Doesn’t matter how. Rescue him. Get him out of this insane- What?’ she asks.
‘Just wondering. Are you a guard or an inmate?’
Simone forces her face into a smile. ‘He’s trapped south of the river,’ she tells me. ‘You need to bring him back. Only the bridges are locked down and the boats this side. So you’ll have to talk your way past roadblocks or find a ferry. Understand?’
Yeah, I understand all right.
I understand she’s telling me the truth. But it’s still a lie. I heard her talking to Morgan about Vijay, remember?
‘Be discreet,’ she stresses.
Maybe I shouldn’t laugh. ‘I’m ex-Legion. We don’t do discreet. We do bloody and vicious and insanely violent.’
And because we do, we don’t need to do it nearly as often as other people believe. Death’s Head. Wolf Brigade. Legion Etrangcre. Our reputation is worth its weight in gold and extra guns.
Simone sighs. ‘Come with me.’
Five doors down is a less grand house, with a front door that exits onto the street. Fumbling in her pocket for a key, Simone clicks the lock and we’re facing an empty hall and a long flight of stairs leading into darkness.
At the top is a study, with an oil lamp already lit on the desk.
It’s a man’s study, because a hunting rifle hangs above the fireplace and a ferox skull stares from a vast shield on a wall behind me. The heavy brow ridge and skull crest show it to be a fully grown male.
Never knew a woman who collected trophies.
Not that kind.
‘This could be dangerous . . .’
Simone abandons her pep-talk. Probably because I grin. People like her don’t know how addictive danger is. Except I’m wrong and she does. It’s in her eyes and the swiftness of her pulse and the way her mouth opens slightly when I steer her towards the desk. She keeps glancing at the door as if she expects someone to enter.
I can’t tell if she hopes someone will.
Or fears they might.
She says nothing when I lift her onto the desk. And nothing when I hook that expensive silk round her hips. It takes me a second to free her breasts.
‘Don’t tear my top,’ she says.
Too late.
Having got her breath back, Lady Simone Kama reaches into a drawer of the desk and produces a small box, flipping it open. Inside is a silver ring, showing a ferox skull in an enamel circle. The circle contains a motto.
Senatus Populusque Farlightus.
I’ve no idea what it means. But I’ve seen a hundred like it. Every Senate officer and NCO wears one. As do a thousand others, who cadge drinks in scuzzy bars, based on having been something they never were.
I take it to the lamp.
That’s the second time she’s proved me wrong.
The ring is platinum. Its enamel a mosaic of rubies. And the skull is not yellow and black, as I expect, but two shades of purple used only by OctoV and the members of his Senate.
Not here, not now . . .
That’s something a fully grown ferox said to me once. I’ve been waiting for Death to catch me up ever since. So far he hasn’t dared.
‘Use it wisely,’ she says. ‘And take this . . .’
Simone scrawls three lines on a piece of paper from a different drawer, and signs it with a flourish. Safe conduct through the city. Signed by Augustus, Archbishop of Farlight.
At least that’s what the signature says.
She grins, eyes glittering. ‘He won’t mind.’
Finally, she rips her scarf in two, pulls a jewelled bottle from her pocket and splashes several drops on one half. She ties that half round my arm. ‘Once you find Vijay,’ she says, ‘remove the ring and lose the band. Your lives depend on it.’
‘What-?’
‘Don’t ask questions.’
She kisses me on the lips and steps back, adjusting her top.
‘Go,’ she says.
So I turn for the stairs.
‘One last thing. I don’t know your name.’
‘I’m Sven.’ Habit almost makes me add the rest. Sven Tveskoeg, lieutenant, Death’s Head, Obsidian Cross, second class.
‘Just Sven?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Just that.’
‘Take my sister with you then, Sven. Keep her safe.’