Her point was taken. Working together, Avery, Coleel and the three glabren shot their rifles at the base of a nearby tree—covered in brilliant green-purple fish scales, with glistening egg sacs hanging off its subtly moving limbs instead of fruit—until the tree toppled, then carted it over to the edge of the roof facing an alley, where the gap to the next roof was narrowest, and, very carefully, maneuvered it so that it reached the roof on the other side. Even Layanna helped. Grunting and straining, Avery was glad for the presence of the glabren. Once the tree was firmly laid across, the company ventured out onto it, one at a time. Coleel crossed first while Avery kept his weapon trained on Virine, then two glabren, then Layanna, then Virine, Avery and, lastly, the final glabren, who had been facing the door leading onto the rooftop, gun trained in expectation of the priests’ arrival.
The priests didn’t show up, but the company hauled the tree across just in case; it wouldn’t do to leave the priests a bridge, would it? Also, they would need it again soon enough. They moved to the far edge of the new roof, again choosing the side facing an alley, and, again, tensely, made their way to the new building, this one only two stories tall, so that they had to travel at an incline on the way across; fortunately the tree was long enough to make up for the difference. Getting to the next roof, another three story structure, proved harder going, and Avery was sweating and his arms trembling by the time he hauled himself over the lip.
The others were tired, too, and they took a break on the new roof while more sirens wailed in the distance, joining the first fire truck, and flames crackled from the club. Virine watched the fires morosely.
“You lot,” he said with contempt. “You cost me one of my favorite spots. I’ve got other audience rooms, but they don’t all have whorehouses on the next level down.”
“Bullshit,” said Coleel. “Your whorehouse travels with you.” He flicked his gaze to the female glabren, who was lithe and attractive and wearing very little. No expression passed across her face.
“Did your glabren all get away?” Layanna asked, and Avery was surprised at the care he heard in her voice.
“More or less,” Virine said. “I lost contact with a couple of them. I expect a ceiling collapsed.”
More deaths on our heads, Avery thought and turned to catch Layanna glancing away; maybe she was thinking the same thing. For some reason, he hoped so.
They moved on, and Avery realized just how exhausted he was as they made their way along the roofs. He hadn’t slept in what seemed like ages, and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast at the temple of Sisters of Jucina. His mouth was parched and his lips cracked. Layanna, by contrast, seemed to be doing very well indeed; as they went, she helped herself to the fruits or equivalent dangling from the infected trees and vegetation. Coleel and Virine regarded her with disgust, even fear, but she ate on, oblivious, and soon enough Avery could see that her cheeks had more color in them and her eyes more life. She was healing from the damage inflicted by the dart. Soon she would be able to bring her other-self over—at least, he hoped so.
Coleel’s tattoos glowed so brightly that it would have made them easy to spot, so he was forced to lather himself with mud and filth gathered from the rooftops. Soon he was as cloaked in darkness as the rest of them.
The sun poked its rim over the horizon about the time the band, still pointing guns at each other, crossed the road (an actual road this time, not an alley) that bordered the Maze and so left that quarter behind, along with the troops scouring it and blocking it off. Luckily the sun was only just coming up and darkness still held sway; otherwise the soldiers on the road below may have seen them. As it was, they scampered across unnoticed, then continued on for another hour until, utterly spent, they stopped for another rest, a long one this time. Virine dispatched one of his male glabren to descend a fire escape, gather food, water and tents, then return, which the purple-eyed man did soon, his new backpack stuffed with needed items.
The members of the group gathered in a circle and ate, all of them ravenous save Layanna. Even the glabren ate, though they showed little pleasure in it but went through the motions with mechanical efficiency. The sun heaved itself higher, and soon Avery felt uncomfortably hot. At least he had some water in his body to sweat with now. He watched airships moving into position over the Maze, two zeppelins and a dozen dirigibles, all bearing the Lightning Crest.
“The Octunggen must have diverted them from the fighting,” Coleel said. “They really do want you folk.”
“I still don’t understand why,” Avery said softly to Layanna. “I mean, why alive.”
“I don’t either.”
“Listen to that,” Virine said.
Avery cocked his head. In the distance to the east, he could hear gunfire—lots of it, by the sound of it. And yes, there, the thud of artillery. A pall of smoke drifted up, then another.
“The rebels are attacking,” he said, wondering which faction was making the move, whether it was Vursk’s people or another group.
“Or are being attacked,” Virine said.
“That what you want?” Coleel said around a mouthful of sandwich. “For the fucking Octs to win?”
“They’re better clients than the old regime,” Virine said. “There were even rumors back before Octung took power that the President was going to have my glabren declared illegal.”
“That would be a shame,” Avery said. Even now he was all too conscious that one of the unholy things was pointing a gun at his head. While he and Coleel ate, the duty of keeping a gun on Virine had fallen to Layanna, and though she held the gun firmly on the man she looked like a person holding a dead rat doing it. One of the other glabren, the female, pointed a gun at her even as it ate with its free hand.
“How do you control them?” Layanna asked. “It’s a psychic link, isn’t it?”
Virine nodded. “I won’t go into the details, but I had to take something into myself that made me an anchor for those who imbibe the glabrus root. Once they do, I control them. Now I’m the stuff of myth and nightmare for the whole country.” He grinned, showing off his animal teeth, including the one functional fang. “I like to listen to the legends that have built up around me. To many, I’ve become the boogeyman.”
“And you aren’t?” Coleel said.
Virine nodded to the zeppelins and dirigibles. “They’re the boogeyman. I’m just a bloke trying to make a living. Anyway.” His voice became brusque. “How long do you expect to keep this up? Surely it’s time for us to call it quits. You lot go your way, I go mine. I’ll just have to kill Losgana some other time.”
“Not a chance,” Avery said. “You’d sell us out as soon as you got clear.”
“What makes you think I haven’t already?” When Avery said nothing, Virine exploded in laughter. “That’s right, you’d forgotten that I can be in many places at once, hadn’t you? Why, I could right this very moment be having my glabren speaking to the nearest Octunggen official.”
“No. You couldn’t,” Layanna said. “You wouldn’t dare, not while you’re still with us. You might be hit in the crossfire.”
Virine’s face ticked, and for the first time Avery received a glimpse of the darkness beneath his jovial exterior. “Don’t test me, woman! I am not some animal to live like this, to be treated in this manner.”
“I know all too well what you’re going through,” Coleel said. “I’ve been on the run, too, but for longer. And also because of these two, and whatever problem they represent.” His gaze took in Avery and Layanna. “I think it’s about time I knew just what that was.”
“No,” Layanna said. “It’s not.”
Avery yawned. “It’s time to rest.” Virine may have wanted to escape them, but he had prepared for not being able to do so, and in short order they had erected three tents. Avery, Layanna and Coleel would take shifts pointing guns at the gangster while he slept or amused himself; for a while he slipped inside his tent with the female glabren, a gun still trained on him all the while. He didn’t seem to mind but appeared to enjoy showing off his power over her. As a group, the glabren, having been “wound up” and not needing Virine’s constant input, kept their own weapons trained on Avery and the others, or at least at whichever was currently endangering their master, irrespective of whether Virine was awake, preoccupied or dozing.
Avery, being the most exhausted, took the first sleeping shift while Layanna kept Virine in her sights and Coleel slept in his own tent. Avery woke to find her next to him in the tent, just settling in.
“Is it my turn?”
She turned to face him. “No. Losg is just taking his shift, then you. Go back to sleep.”
They were very close. She looked very beautiful. He leaned forward to kiss her—
She laid a hand on his chest and, very lightly, pushed him back.
“No,” she said.
“No?”
“No.”
He sank back, defeated. “This is ridiculous,” he said.
“No.” She gestured around them, indicating their situation. “This is ridiculous.”
He let out a breath. “I just hope Janx and Hildra are alright. And Ani.”
“I’m sure she is.”
He could smell Layanna’s hair. Despite everything, it smelled clean and fresh. He longed to run his hands through it. Vaguely, he wondered where Sheridan was right then. Was she out there even then, maybe in one of those zeppelins, hunting them? For a moment he felt short of breath, but it passed.
“Who are the priests of the Restoration?” Layanna was saying. “What are they, and why are they after me?”
He had no answer. In time, he fell asleep again, then woke up to take his turn guarding Virine. The gangster had had some alchemical cigars on him, and he was smoking one and watching while his female glabren danced naked through the trees of the rooftop. A group of mutated monkey-things watched on, chittering amongst themselves.
Despite himself, Avery wanted to ask Virine if the woman was dancing under her own power or if the gangster was simply operating her like a puppeteer moves a marionette. Were those flourishes and spins, as she wove her way beneath the reeking, grasping tendrils of a slime-coated tree, her own, Virine’s, or somewhere in between? Avery bit the question back, as if in not knowing he were further separating himself from the barbaric manipulation.
It was a beautiful dance.
