The horizon, p.30
The Horizon, page 30
At the doors of the Citadel, Marwana turned to her. ‘Nothing good. Blood on the streets. By tomorrow, the City will be divided three ways. The roads will be be closed. Some bridges are already burned. You won’t be moving around anywhere.’
‘Wha—’ Mankala breathed. ‘What happened while I was down there all day?’
‘Your friend Mithila is at the head of an alliance of the latter Circles. They’ve already beaten the Shoortans in one battle. People have died. More will die.’
‘There’s a revolution on?’
Marwana smiled. ‘Like father, like daughter.’
‘Father—oh,’ said Mankala. ‘Oh.’
Marwana stared at her. ‘What?’
‘The Elders had Savarian trapped in the Towers of Rebirth, Leader. But he’s gone—vanished.’
‘So that’s where you went when you left here so suddenly?’
‘I had a hunch. But I was too late. We met the Doorkeeper of the Third Tower. He told us that the guard had suddenly withdrawn—and the moment that happened, Savarian left.’
‘Almost as if it’s scripted, isn’t it?’ Marwana murmured. Her eyes flickered. ‘Savarian running loose in the middle of a revolution—all we needed now.’
Mankala looked at the Rasa, vanishing Wallwards into the distance. ‘Where’s Mithila, Leader?’
‘Eleventh.’
‘Oh.’
‘Isn’t that your Circle?’
‘Not anymore. My house was burned, remember? I don’t really have anywhere to go.’
‘Your parents—’
‘There is no home for me there,’ Mankala pushed a shock of hair out of her eyes, blinking suddenly. ‘Remember the time when you said you wish you’d found me earlier?’
‘Yes. I so wish we had.’
‘I didn’t tell you back then, but so do I, Leader. I’d have been with you, and I’d still have had a home.’
‘Ah,’ Marwana paused. ‘Was it your expulsion?’
Mankala nodded. She paused—and then spoke in a rush, words that had long been buried, now finding their way to light.
‘The Academy gave me a month to recant. Of course, they didn’t call it “recant”—that would’ve made the Shoortan pressure too obvious. “Reconsider,” they said, “and acknowledge the errors in this essay”. I remember the day I came home and told my father, and he looked at me, relief in his eyes, and said, “so they let you off”, and I laughed and said to him, “let who off?” and I watched his eyes change. And later that evening, my mother came back from the fields, and—things got worse.’
‘They didn’t understand?’
‘They made it clear that no one in the family had ever been expelled from the Academy, and their child wasn’t going to be the first. I told them that they were only proving the point I made in the essay about the illogicality of our family structures this side of the Wall. That did not go down well. After our third fight, they said that if I didn’t take the Academy’s offer, they would—I was—I would no longer be …’ Mankala choked, and tailed off. ‘So on the thirtieth day,’ she continued again, ‘I took my things and walked out.’
‘Oh, Builders!’ said Marwana.
‘Yes.’
‘Did you ever wonder why people reacted like this to an essay?’
Mankala shrugged. ‘Isn’t Shoortanism two thousand years of overreaction?’
‘Unless it wasn’t the Shoortans,’ Marwana said softly. ‘And the reason why you terrified someone so much was because if you proved that there was a time when the world was not like this, it would become possible to imagine a time when the world would not be like this.’
They looked at each other. The moment lingered.
‘Well, I’d better go,’ said Mankala. She turned.
‘Wait!’ said Marwana.
Mankala stopped.
‘I read your essay,’ said Marwana, ‘You argued that this side of the Wall, families chosen were a more logical way of structuring our society than families given.’
‘I did, yes.’
‘And I know we found you late,’ said Marwana, ‘but it’s never too late, Mankala. Do you want to stay here with us until this is over? You won’t be able to come back to the Forum once you leave it, now. You can stay—and you can start to see our work, and …’ she left the unsaid, unsaid.
For a long moment, Mankala stood there, her back to Marwana.
Finally, she shook her head. ‘If only I could,’ she whispered. ‘But not now, Leader. I can’t. I have to go to Mithila.’
Marwana smiled again, with a hint of sadness. ‘I thought you’d say that. Perhaps another day. Go well, Mankala. And be safe. Life becomes cheap in a revolution, for greater things.’
Mankala nodded. ‘I’ll be back—we will solve this.’
She began to walk away.
‘Tell me something,’ said Marwana.
‘Yes?’
‘Why didn’t you just agree to reconsider?’
‘Because,’ said Mankala, without turning, ‘I was right.’
Marwana watched her until she was out of sight.
Mankala threw the door open, and marched into Malati’s office.
Alvar stood, crumbs of khire falling off his clothes. ‘Where were you all day—’
‘Alvar! We need to get to the Eleventh before they block off the roads.’
‘The Eleventh? Why—’
‘Mithila’s there, leading a revolution.
‘What!’
‘Come on! Also, where’s Malati?’
‘Locked up in her room for hours. Won’t answer the door.’
Mankala stood still for a moment, then muttered: ‘Oh, there’s no time—I’ll see her later. Come on, Alvar.’
They rushed out of Malati’s house, and into the street. ‘By Maliot?’ said Alvar. Mankala laughed. ‘Why, aching for some Shoortan company? No, we’re going inside.’ She cut South-East.
The wide, paved roads of the First were empty. They went past the mansions of the Elders—strangely dark and quiet—and past the sewage chamber of the First. At the bridge over the tributary dividing the Second and the First Mandalas, they saw the Watch.
‘Halt!’ said one of the Watchmen, as they were spotted. ‘Roads closed tonight.’
Mankala held up her hands. ‘I’m authorized. Elders’ business.’
‘Which Elder?’
‘I’m Councillor Malati’s secretary—you know this.’
The Watchman’s face did not change. ‘The roads are closed.’
‘What!’ Mankala burst out. ‘Malati has—’
‘Mankala-Eleven,’ the Watchman’s companion, older than him, spoke gently. ‘Didn’t you know? Malati resigned today.’
‘Oh,’ Mankala’s face went blank.
‘We can’t let you through tonight. Orders.’
‘But I have to get home!’
‘Erm … honestly, you’re safer here, Mankala-Eleven. Nasty business afoot tonight in the end Circles. Just spend the night with Malati.’
‘I see,’ said Mankala. Alvar waited for her to do something, but she only said: ‘Guess you saved us some trouble. Let’s go, Alvar.’
He caught up to her as she walked quickly back into the First. ‘We’re going back? Just like that?’
‘Not so loud. They were never letting us through. Time for the backup.’
‘Backup?’
‘You’ll see.’
In the dying light, she led him North, towards the Forum. At the cusp of the Circle, they stopped at the largest stone mansion in the First Mandala.
The house of the former President.
Alvar tilted his head up, taking in the lights at the windows. But the house was silent, and there were no watchmen at the gate. Mankala quietly lifted the bar and moved it inwards, trying not to let it creak. They walked up to the door. It opened before they could knock.
‘I’ve always told you,’ said Elmandar, ‘that it won’t whine if you do it quickly.’
‘We can talk about your gate, Elmandar,’ Mankala said, ‘or you could take me home.’
Elmandar stepped back. ‘What?’
Alvar coughed delicately.
‘Roads blocked,’ said Mankala, rolling her eyes. ‘I need to get home, but they won’t let me.’
‘Oh. Didn’t you know?’ Elmandar said. ‘Council’s left the Forum. They’ve all moved to The Maliot House.’
‘Why the Maliot House?’ said Alvar.
‘I don’t know, mother doesn’t tell me anything,’ said Elmandar plaintively. ‘I figure it’s because there’s going to be fighting tomorrow. You can’t really direct stuff from the Forum.’
‘Alright, but then the Maliot should be clear,’ said Mankala. ‘And they’d let you through, surely. Former President’s son and all.’
Elmandar’s eyes glinted with a sudden light. ‘A trip Downcircle on the night before a battle, huh?’
Mankala shrugged. ‘I mean, it is where I live, but whatever makes you happy.’
Elmandar stepped out of the house, and past them. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he said, disappearing into the darkness of the street.
Mankala turned and sat on the steps, leaning back on her elbows, closing her eyes.
‘Please tell me,’ Alvar said, sitting next to her, ‘how this relationship works.’
‘Smoothly.’
They did not speak again after that. Mankala leaned all the way back, her hands behind her head, until she was lying on the porch and staring up at the sky. The silence around them was stifling. Alvar jumped up and walked into the garden.
After a few minutes, he heard running footsteps, and a rattling sound. Alvar hurried back to the gate. Mankala came out and stood beside him, grinning. The rattling grew louder.
They burst out from around a street corner, seven figures riding the night. They had one foot upon their vehicles’ base—a plank supported by four wheels—while they used their other foot to push upon the ground. Their hands were upon the handlebars, which branched out from the wooden frame of the mount. The wheels were of iron. Scarce, but never scarce enough, Alvar thought.
They sped down the road at a frightening pace, straight at them. Alvar’s heart leapt as they approached, but then Elmandar, who was leading, raised a hand and the group split into a semi-circle, coming to a stop. Alvar saw that they had lashed sharpened sticks to their belts.
‘The Hedonists are here,’ Elmandar flashed them a grin. ‘An armed escort.’
Mankala sniffed. ‘I suppose it’ll do.’
‘We got chariots for you as well,’ said Elmandar. ‘Made two of us ride one-handed.’ At a gesture from him, two were wheeled out for them. Mankala’s eyes widened. Alvar caught one just before it fell to the ground.
‘Ready?’ said Elmandar.
‘No,’ she said. ‘How do these things work?’
‘You’ll understand better with your feet than your head,’ Elmandar laughed. Without waiting for an answer, he kicked off.
And so began the strangest journey Alvar had ever taken in Sumer.
Both hands on the handle, one foot on the thing with wheels, Alvar tamped down his trembling. As they moved, he stumbled, and gripped the handlebars tightly. His mind was giving orders that his body did not know how to follow, and it felt like they were far more than a few centimeters above the ground. He turned, and saw that Mankala was struggling too, her jaw set, her knuckles white around the handlebars.
The Hedonists fanned out, giving them cover, as they reached the Maliot. Alvar sensed his body settling into the chariot’s rhythm, his foot shifting imperceptibly to give him balance. Around him, there was darkness: nobody had lit the lamps by the river tonight.
On the road, they picked up the pace. The night wind was on his face, whipping his hair back, cold gusts lashing his cheeks, drawing tears from his eyes. The boards rattled beneath his feet, and he grinned into the night. He had never gone so fast before.
‘Out of the way!’ Elmandar’s shout ripped the air, and suddenly everyone sped up. Alvar had moments to see the two Watchmen who stood guard upon the bridge to the Second, see their eyes widen, and see them tumble out of the way as they passed through. Cries followed them from behind, but they were past.
Wallwards, they met nobody else upon an abandoned Maliot. Just beyond the Fifth, Elmandar raised a hand. Alvar stopped with the rest, his heart racing.
‘Let’s cut in from here,’ Elmandar said. ‘There’ll be no watch beyond the Fifth.’
They entered the Sixth, at a steadier pace, and turned South-East, towards the heart of Sumer. The houses of the Watchmen were dark and quiet. Here too, like in the rest of the City, the lamps were unlit.
Beyond the Seventh’s Bridge, into what had once been Mithila’s Circle, the roads narrowed, forcing them into a walk. The night closed in, until they were almost groping their way forward. The Seventh was deserted.
Alvar shivered. ‘Where is everyone?’ he whispered to Mankala.
‘I don’t know,’ she whispered back. ‘I thought—‘
‘Who goes there?’
Alvar stopped dead. Elmandar and two Hedonists had just stepped around the corner and into the next street, temporarily out of sight.
‘It’s a street in Sumer, what do you mean who goes there, I go there,’ Elmandar drawled. ‘Who’s asking stupid questions?’
The remaining Hedonists slipped past Alvar and Mankala, and joined Elmandar around the corner.
The first voice came back, cold. ‘You had better control that tongue, Elmandar-One, unless you want it pulled out by the root.’
‘Oh, your father would weep for—’
‘Enough!’ the first voice snapped. ‘I haven’t the patience for your brand of foolery tonight, Golden Boy. Have you seen those companions of Mithila the Ostracized?
Alvar clapped a hand to his mouth.
‘I don’t know, Shoortan, have I?’ Elmandar said. ‘Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. Maybe they’re in my pocket.’
‘You were seen a while ago with them in the First Mandala,’ another voice spoke, in clipped tones. ‘We don’t have time for this. Your party will be searched now.’
‘Come on love, search away, if you want to get your head smashed in like a pot,’ Elmandar said cheerfully.
There was a sudden hush, broken by the sound of muttering.
‘Elmandar-One,’ the second voice spoke calmly. ‘The Matriarch only wants to speak to them. There’s no need for violence. Would your mother like to know you’ve been making a scene?’
‘Some of us don’t have to ask for mummy’s approval before doing anything. Isn’t that lucky?’
‘Our fight is not with you, Elmandar,’ again the second voice, still calm. ‘Don’t force our hand.’
‘Oh, just let your hands own their urges,’ Elmandar hooted gleefully. ‘Why would I force anybody to do what they already want?’
‘Bloody Builders, let me choke them out of him, I beg you,’ the first voice was a low, furious snarl.
‘Is that a threat or a promise?’
There was a moment of deathly silence. Then Mankala and Alvar heard a sickening crunch, and pandemonium broke out. The night air resounded with cries, insults, the sound of wood meeting wood, and roars of pain.
Mankala nudged him. ‘Alvar. Time to leave.’
They crept away, and started running as soon as they were out of earshot.
‘You know,’ Alvar panted as they ran, ‘I see why you like him.’
Music woke Mithila.
Her eyes flickered open. The full moon came in through the window. It touched the edges of the room.
The music floated up to her. A flute, sweet and clear, its lilt entering her ears, becoming a song she knew.
Blue, I dream you, blue …
Mithila rose and went to the window.
Beneath her, on the street, people were walking.
They held flame lamps, glimmering in the night. They walked down the road in single file, some holding their children by the hand, still in their nightclothes, stumbling. She followed them with her eyes, and saw them cross over one by one into the Tenth Mandala, heading towards the Forum. She could not see how many there were.
And the music continued.
Blue, I dream you, blue …
Mithila straightened, and took a deep breath. From her window, she watched the procession until the last of them had vanished into the darkness of the Tenth.
Fifteen
The Select’s Protocol
There was urgent rapping at the door.
Mithila awoke. Her legs felt desperately stiff. For a moment, she lay in bed, staring at the iron sky outside the window. There was a scent of rain in the air.
The rapping came again.
Mithila rolled out of the bed and staggered to the door, opening it.
‘Worldfarer, you need to be down in five minutes.’ The man handed her a fresh pair of clothes. ‘Hurry.’
Mithila nodded and closed the door. She walked to the bathroom and washed the sleep out of her eyes, swiftly running water behind her neck and under her arms, regretting last night’s decision to skip a bath. As she changed, she noticed that the linen shirt they had brought her had the design of the broken wall with the sun peering through, emblazoned upon the front.
She hastened down. Maji was the only person in the hall.
‘Barricade,’ she said without looking up. ‘Now.’
‘Where are the rest?’
‘There.’
Mithila followed her out. They stepped out into the cold half-light. Wallrise was still an hour or so away.
‘Tell me, Maji,’ she said, as they walked towards the Maliot. ‘How many deserted last night?’
Maji looked back at her, something like pity in her eyes. ‘What did you expect?’
‘Just answer the question.’
‘Quite a few from the Eleventh and the Twelfth. We’ll know better later.’
As they approached the Maliot, Maji turned them away from the barricade. She took Mithila into one of the houses on the edge of the Mandala. They went up the staircase, and onto the roof, where a group of people had gathered.
Maji strode to the edge of the roof. She pointed beyond the barricade.
