Hala, Princess and commander of the Southern forces
Flaxentip, Daughter of the City and admirer of Bandit
Silverheels, Clutch’s ladyfriend
Meatbreath, Protector-Elect of the City
The Security Director, City bureaucrat and head of the Peoples Corps
Lockjaw and Drooplip, suppliers to the City
48
The landmarks defining their conflict stuck up above the fog – the western hill which served as Meatbreath’s headquarters, and the eastern hill which had been Mindwalker’s command centre. Down below in the mist lay the dim shape of an underwater city, the prize of their struggle. Yet the artist leaders couldn’t be seen, high up on a patio surrounding the upper level of a building, with planters holding the trunks of vines that tumbled over the parapet to the ground far below. Here she was on top of that surprising wall of vegetation which she had relaxed under while guided by seagulls. Touchwit had never been above a city in her life nor for that matter a forest – for that was the sensation given by the cascade of foliage. She felt secure with the sunlight, the building shrouded in greenery, and the rustling and chirping of birds in the vines. Just below her was the site of Meatbreath’s Feast.
A gull emerged from some envelope in the sky and joined its colleague on the parapet. The birds exchanged news in what sounded like bickering squawks, then Touchwit’s friend spoke. “She says the entire united High Guard will be back in the City in …” the gull canted his head to the sun, “… just a few degrees.”
She knew what degrees meant. Gulls computed space and time according to the inclination of the sun. But how did the second gull know where the enemy was in the fog?
“She has a good sense of the unseen,” her friend explained, reading her mind. “She uses her sense of smell to find direction.”
“Can she smell Meatbreath?”
“No. The sense of smell is for navigating only. For finding land. She knows where the soldiers are by the sonic vibrations of their bodies.”
Well, those were necessary skills for mariners. Often they had no visual landmarks in the indeterminate expanse of ocean. These gulls were mobile calculating devices.
Mindwalker frowned gloomily at the fog concealing the Lake. “We’ve been humbugged. Meatbreath stole a march, beat up the Creeker militia, and is back in time to mop up the Citizens Brigades. Humbugged, I say!”
“Humbugged twice-over, if I may employ your military phrase,” the gull said, “since the High Guard is now presumably at full strength, having been joined by its comrades previously deployed on the Southern Frontier.”
“Three times humbugged if that’s the case,” Mindwalker said. “Because he would have caught Clutch in a classic pincer attack. The High Guard on the Southern Frontier would have come up his tail – I don’t know how.”
Touchwit decided that this curious word humbugged must be a euphemism for a vector of approach that was a surprise.
“The Frontier High Guard wouldn’t have dared to swim the Narrows in a fog. Or use the bridges during the day. They likely got across the open span of the rusting railway bridge,” the gull said.
“Bloody brilliant!”
“Where’s Clutch? Is he alright?”
The seagull nodded to his colleague. She plunged off the ledge into the fog and reappeared seconds later flying toward the cemetery.
“We have to tell the Brigades to make themselves scarce. And I haven’t a clue how we’re going to seize the stage from the Protector tonight.”
“I am by no stretch of the wing a military expert,” the Gull replied, “but the Brigades shouldn’t have been let loose in the first place. It was obvious the Protector was going to return to the city for his inauguration.”
“The Brigades are excited. Think of the coming together of disparate flocks,” Mindwalker explained.
“You mean to say it was impossible to contain their enthusiasm?”
“Exactly. The high spirits of the young won out against the commanding officers. Being young, they have a streak of anarchy.”
“Perhaps Anarchists should not be led by Artists,” the gull said.
49
“Well, if it ain’t Signor Incognito? Wot can oi do for you’se?”
“You can release into my custody two Clan Matriarchs who seem to have been imprisoned by mistake.”
“Sorry, can’t oblige. All miscreants are property of the City State.”
“I have orders from the Security Director herself. Here is her scent on my ear for verification.”
“Can’t fool an ol’ tart like me. Anyways, oi don’t remembers no clan mums comin’ in here.”
Bandit grabbed Drooplip’s ear and began to twist it.
“Oy! – don’t do that. I already got one bad ear. I’ll holler – the Guards are nearby.”
“Wrong. They were summoned to re-possess the Downtown. The Brigades have taken it.”
“Anyhow, I can’t remember.”
“Let’s see if this will help you remember.” Bandit twisted her ear hard.
“I remember now,” Drooplip said. “Go and shout their names at the shed. Meantime, I have to go defend the City … Who’s this? You’se from the Pond?”
