Meat

Twenty-two

When the light came, it was through a window too small for a man to crawl through, even a man as thin as Richard Shanti.

He sat with his back to a wall and as the grey light grew in strength he saw that all the walls were white. Dirty white. There were stains too; rusty looking smears and splatters easy to recognise. The room was bare in every other respect. No chair, no bed, no basin. The door was ancient wood, shaped in a pointed arch, its patina worn away by neglect. There was no handle on the inside, just an old metal plate housing the lock.

He could think only of Hema and Harsha and what Magnus was doing to them. What he might already have done. His heart was filled with the urge to destroy the man, to revoke his status one knuckle, one deliberate slice at a time. He was horrified by the violence within himself yet welcomed it too. It might be the only strength he could use to fight back.

They hadn’t hurt him yet, not really. His handling had been rough and they’d put a hood over his head before they threw him in the back of the truck. It must have been important to bring him in quickly otherwise they wouldn’t have wasted the fuel. How much they knew and what were they willing to do to find out the rest he could only guess at. It was better not to think about it. Anger would be stronger than fear; that was the emotion he should nurture.

Footsteps along the hall outside. The rattle of one key being selected from many. The lock releasing.

The door opened.

In it was framed a man in velvet robes. He had a long, thinning beard of white and not much hair left on his head. On his fingers were many gold rings and mounted in them opulent gems. Shanti tried to conceal his puzzlement.

‘Do you know me?’ asked the robed man.

‘Of course… Your Grace.’

‘Then you know why you’re here.’

Shanti cast around. Nothing came to him. He shook his head.

‘Think about it. Why would an exemplary man like Richard Shanti, the Ice Pick, be brought to the gaol chambers of Central Cathedral?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, it’s very simple.’ The Grand Bishop stepped into the room. Behind him were two Parsons and the gaoler with his bunch of keys. The two Parsons followed him in. The gaoler pulled the door shut and locked it again. ‘And yet, it’s very complex.’

Shanti had not stood up when the door opened and now the urge to do so was strong. The presence of the two Parsons, both bulky men beneath their robes, persuaded him to stay seated. No need to upset them. Additionally, he sensed he might not be in quite as much danger as he’d imagined.

‘You were visited by Parson Mary Simonson, were you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘She had some doubts about the way you cared for your daughters.’

‘I think we put those doubts out of her mind.’

‘Perhaps. However, you aroused others.’

The Grand Bishop was waiting for a response. Shanti didn’t give him one. He had to find out how much they knew. Finally he said, ‘What others?’

‘You’re too good, Shanti. You’re not typical of the townsfolk. Parson Mary Simonson felt she had to find out more about you. More about your family and where you came from. Your line goes back to the creation. Did you know that?’

‘I mentioned it to her, I believe. The Shantis are an old family.’

The Grand Bishop glanced up at the window. He seemed impatient, agitated. He turned and looked directly at Shanti.

‘You’re not who you say you are.’

Shanti couldn’t help but smile. Did they think he was some kind of spy?

‘Who am I then?’

‘That’s what we want to find out.’

Shanti thought it over quickly. They didn’t seem to know much about him. They didn’t seem to know much about anything. Now they were accusing him of some kind of fraud. Meanwhile, his family – his daughters – were in the hands of the most dangerous man in Abyrne. He had to do something.

‘When your men came to collect me last night, I was reading a note that had been left on my table. No doubt you’ll have noticed how quiet the house was. Magnus has my family, Your Grace, and he means them harm. He’s threatened their safety if I don’t go to meet him.’

‘Magnus has your wife and daughters now?’

‘Yes. I thought your Parsons were his men. I thought this was his mansion.’

The Grand Bishop’s expression turned from curiosity to anger.

‘Magnus wants you at his house?’

‘That’s what the note said.’

‘Why? Why does he want to talk to you?’

‘I wish I knew. All I care about is getting my daughters away from him. He’s not to be trusted.’

‘Ha.’ The Grand Bishop snorted. ‘Trusted? The man’s a cockroach.’

The Grand Bishop stroked his beard and turned away. Shanti could see an opening here. Magnus was the Grand Bishop’s enemy and that might just make Richard Shanti the Grand Bishop’s friend.

‘Let me go to them,’ he said. ‘Let me find out what it is Magnus wants. I’ll find a way to get that information to you. All that matters is getting my family away from him. Promise me you’ll protect them and I’ll find out as much as I can. Magnus can have me as long as they are safe.’

‘I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety in the town any more. Things have gone too far. And I can’t let you out of here now that I have you. You may be far more dangerous to me than Magnus whether you admit it or not. The fact remains that we have to find out who you are. Because one thing is absolutely certain. You are not Richard Shanti. Richard Shanti died twenty-eight years ago.’

The maids took Maya away when he’d worn himself out. They took away the sheets, soiled with smears of her blood and vomit, and replaced them so that he could sleep. They bathed him and he shook as though frightened, though they knew that he was not. They put him in his clean bed and pulled the covers over him and even in his sleep he shook, his head trembling on the pillows.

‘What do you know about John Collins?’

‘Only what I’ve heard. People say he’s some sort of messiah.’

‘Have you met him?’

‘No.’

‘I think you’re lying.’

Shanti was a useless liar and he knew it. The Grand Bishop, on the other hand, must have been an astute judge of individuals after all his years of dealing with the town’s transgressors and ministering to his flock. There was no way to hide from the Grand Bishop’s questions or the way his eyes read the secret signals that Shanti couldn’t prevent his body from creating. But there was no way he could tell the truth now. Not until they tore it from him.

They would do so and it was only a matter of time. He would break and tell them everything he knew. He was not a strong man, there was no point pretending. He would take it as far as he could.

‘I don’t know him.’

The Grand Bishop looked up and out of the small window as if there was something out there more significant than a patch of cloud-obscured sky.

‘I notice you’re… how shall we say… a man of slight frame. But you’re not a poor man in this town. You don’t have the excuse of not being able to afford the flesh that God provides.’

‘I’m a runner. I run many miles every day. It keeps me thin.’

‘Emaciated, I’d have said.’

Shanti didn’t respond. The Grand Bishop continued.

‘I’ve heard it said that John Collins is similarly light of build. Do you suppose that’s just a coincidence?’

‘There are a lot of thin townsfolk.’

‘None of them have the kind of job you have, Shanti. Or the kind of job Collins had before he strayed from us. So I ask you again, why are you and he so… undernourished?’

‘All I know is that I burn off my fat every day. Collins I can’t speak for.’

The Grand Bishop glanced at his two Parsons and sighed.

‘Very soon I’m going to run out of patience and pleasant conversation.’

‘Very soon Rory Magnus is going to mutilate my family. He may already have done so. I don’t care about Collins or your questions. I don’t care that you say I’m not the man I think I am. All I care about is them. Help me to save them and I’ll do anything, tell you anything you want. But not right now. Let me go to them. Give me a chance to save them, I’m begging you.’

‘If I let you go, Magnus is going to ask you the exact same questions I’m asking and for the exact same reasons. He’s going to do to your family what he wants to do whether he’s satisfied with what you tell him or not. You can’t save them or yourself just by getting out of this room.’

‘No, but I can at least try. And they’ll know that when it mattered most, I didn’t abandon them. For God’s sake, show some mercy.’

‘Tell me where Collins and his followers are hiding and I’ll let you go.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘Then your family is lost. I’m sorry.’

Shanti let his head drop into his hands in misery and desperation. He was out of options. When he looked up his face was wet, his eyes red.

‘He’s in the Derelict Quarter—’

‘Tell me something I don’t know, Shanti, or I’ll kill your daughters myself.’

‘Let me finish. It’s a long way in. Maybe a couple of miles. Beyond the blocks the ground slopes down, away from the town. At the bottom of that slope, somewhere near the centre of it, there’s an opening. It leads down into tunnels. That’s where they are. I couldn’t see where they took me. All I know is it’s deep – three levels down.’

The Grand Bishop seemed shocked to hear it. Not because they were there. To Shanti it seemed he was shocked that there were places in Abyrne he knew nothing about, realms where he had no authority.

‘How many of them are there?’

Shanti completed his betrayal.

‘Twenty-five, maybe thirty at most. Some women among them.’

The Grand Bishop laughed.

‘Thirty? John Collins thinks he can take control of Abyrne with thirty starveling cave-dwellers? I can’t wait for the Parsons to shut him down.’ He nodded to his two companions. ‘Take your best out there and finish this for me right now. Bring Collins back to me alive.’

‘What about this one?’

‘We’re going to let him go to Magnus. He can’t do any harm now. By the time Magnus gets the information out of him this nonsense with Collins will be over. We’ll show the town what happens to blasphemers. I think it’s time we put the Welfare back in charge of the Chosen and make their sacrifice to us a thing of Divinity once again.’

The two Parsons left.

The Grand Bishop looked into Shanti’s eyes.

‘If you live through this – whether you save the lives of your family or not – I’m going to find out the truth about you, Richard Shanti. For better or for worse. You are one individual I will not allow to run to the Derelict Quarter to live out their days in exile. I will find you no matter where you go.’ He looked back out of the window, perhaps finding nothing in the clouds. ‘Get going. Make your sacrifice. But be ready for me when you’re done.’

Without the pack to drag him down, Shanti sprinted.

He flew.

The Parsons were a hundred in number. They fanned out across the broken landscape of the Derelict Quarter like monks wearing robes of blood. Soon the hems of their raiment were grey with the dust of destruction. From every right hand hung a polished femur, each one engraved with a passage from the Book of Giving. They made ideal clubs; lightweight but strong and slightly flexible. The broadened end where the knee joint would once have been, acted as a natural haft that prevented the bone slipping out of the wielder’s hand. The hip end of the bone was part club, part blunt hook. The Parsons used them to trip, to block and to bludgeon and these Parsons were the best the Welfare possessed.

They walked warily, eyes flicking, heads scanning from side to side. The Derelict Quarter was a place the Parsons hated and feared. Here Abyrne ended and became a no man’s land where fugitives went to eke out their days in starved deprivation. What was safe and pious and lawful became wild and unpredictable. The Derelict Quarter was wrong. They all felt its malignancy to their core.

From time to time one of them would stumble on the jagged, unforgiving rubble. The sudden sound would make them all stop and spin towards the noise. Nervous guts rumbled. Damp palms left smudges on red velvet.

Parson James Jessup was the youngest and arguably the strongest of all of them. Beside his fear he felt a deep instinct to deal out pain and punishment to the Godless ones they’d been sent to find. Only Collins needed to return alive. The rest they could do what they wanted with. His excitement brought the taste of iron into his mouth and he savoured it. This was God’s iron that ran in his blood, in his very saliva. It would be his strength and with it he would cast the Godless down forever.

He walked near the front of the group so that, when the ambush came, he was one of the last to be aware of it. When he turned, his Parson brothers were already falling like the red leaves of autumn. Among them moved what appeared to be the shadows of slender men and women. They were dressed in rags; the sleeves and trouser legs tattered by the shard-like corners and projections that lay all around.

Parsons turned and hefted their femur-clubs in timeworn arcs: diagonally down, hooked from right to left and back, sweeping uppercuts. None of the blows landed. Cassocks billowed as the Parsons collapsed to the wounding ground.

They stopped him before he reached the front door. Men in long coats ran out from both sides of the driveway to tackle him. There was no need, he was giving himself to them. He made no attempt to resist.

‘I’m Richard Shanti,’ he said. ‘Magnus wants to see me.’

Inside the mansion, one man holding each of his arms as they marched him, Shanti’s breathing quickly returned to normal. Only his heart didn’t completely settle into its usually slow rhythm but not because he wasn’t fit. He’d come for his daughters.

The men took him upstairs to the study but it was empty. They waited.

Somewhere else in the house there was crying. He recognised the voices.

No, no, no.

‘Where the hell is Magnus?’ he shouted into the face of the man to his left.

The man smiled.

‘Busy.’

‘I need to see him. He needs to see me. Now.’

‘When he’s finished, he’ll come. Maybe.’

What the hell was he going to do? The beast was with his girls. What had he already done?

‘Listen. You tell him I know where John Collins is. Tell him I know where Prophet John and his people are hiding.’

‘You can tell him yourself when he’s ready.’

‘No. You have to tell him now. Believe me, this is something he wants to know. He won’t want to be kept waiting a moment too long.’

‘Like I said, you can tell him yourself.’

‘Fine.’ Shanti filled his lungs and began to shout. ‘Magnus! MAGNUS! I know where Collins is. I can lead you to him right now.’

The grip on his arms tightened.

‘Pipe down, Shanti.’

He screamed louder.

‘MAGNUS! DO YOU HEAR ME? I KNOW WHERE HE IS. I’LL TAKE YOU THERE.’

The two men slammed Shanti back against the wall. A picture dropped to the floor shattering glass onto the floorboards and rug. Shanti felt the tip of a blade pierce the skin of his throat. He swallowed and the blade sank a little deeper.

‘Now you shut up Mr. Ice Pick or I’m going to cut you a new smile.’

No choice.

There were heavy footsteps in the hallway and the study door burst open.

‘What the fuck is going on in here?’ Magnus wore only his dressing gown, still wrapping it around himself, his sexual arousal obvious beneath it. He took in the scene. ‘Who smashed this picture?’

The guards looked at each other.

‘It’s this one, Mr. Magnus. He’s been misbehaving.’

‘Who allowed him to do that, I wonder?’

Neither guard replied.

‘Did I hear you correctly, Shanti? Did you say you could take us to Collins’s hideout?’

‘Yes. I can take you straight there.’

‘Why don’t you just tell us where it is and we’ll go?’

‘I suppose I could do that but I’ve only been there once. I think there’d be a better chance of sending your men to the right place if I retraced my steps.’

‘Like any stockman worth his wages, I know bullshit when I smell it. You’re lying to me.’

‘No. I’m not lying. If you want me to tell you the way, I will. But the Grand Bishop’s best Parsons are on their way out there right now. If you want your men to beat them to it, I suggest you allow me to go along.’

‘Fuck. Fuck it. You filthy fucking… how do they know where he is?’

Shanti shrugged. He noticed the way Magnus’s body shook. It wasn’t just anger. Even his head seemed to wobble.

‘I told them.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You told the Grand Bishop where that skinny lunatic is hiding with his skinny lunatic pals?’

‘I had no choice.’

‘Death’s going to be too good for your wife and daughters, Shanti. Far too good.’

‘If I hadn’t told them, I wouldn’t be here giving you the same information, Mr. Magnus. I haven’t told them the best route. There’s a chance they’ll get a little lost along the way. I’ve bought you some time and you’re standing here wasting it. Do you want Collins for yourself or not?’

‘No one talks to me that way, Shanti.’

‘If I lead your men to the hideout successfully and you take Collins, I want your guarantee that you won’t harm my family.’

Magnus snorted.

‘Harm? You haven’t got a fucking clue.’

‘I’m serious. If you want to stay in control of the town, time’s running out. Promise me you won’t hurt them.’

‘I believe my invitation to you was quite specific, Shanti. You’re late. Very late. And I don’t like to be disrespected.’

‘What have you done to them?’

‘Oh, I haven’t had a chance to get started. Not properly. Not yet.’

Shanti thought about the crying and the erection that still beat beneath Magnus’s robe.

‘Let me see them.’

‘No. I’ll tell you this much, though. Your wife is a natural convert to cuckoldry. There’s nothing she won’t do for her family. You should be very proud.’

‘My girls. What about my girls?’

‘Ah. Now they’re a very different story of course. A real revelation to me. I’ve never had the pleasure of twins before, though I’ve seen plenty their age. And much younger. Let’s just say that I’ve been very gently introducing them to the duties of womanhood.’

Nausea and rage rose up inside Shanti. He felt what little control he had slipping away.

‘Please. Let me see them.’

‘No. But I’ll tell you what. If you and my men come back with John Collins before the Parsons get him, I give you my word I won’t touch any of your family again. But you must both return or I’ll do whatever I want with them. And it won’t take days or weeks, it’ll be years. Pleasure for me and whatever they can salvage from it. Understand, Shanti? You bring him back. You bring John Collins back to me alive. Then and only then will your family be safe.’ His erection had subsided. He adjusted the dressing gown around his shoulders and smoothed it over his paunch. ‘I have to say, I’m a little disappointed to have been interrupted but,’ he spread his palms wide, ‘business before pleasure, eh? That’s what sorts the winners from the losers in this world.’

Magnus walked to the study door and shouted downstairs.

‘Bruno! Take everyone you can spare and get down to the Derelict Quarter. Shanti here is going to take you to see our old friend. Make sure they both come back alive. If you run into the Parsons out there,’ he considered for a moment,‘take them down. All of them.’

He turned back into the study.

‘I believe you mentioned something about running out of time, Shanti.’

And then Shanti was sprinting again. Behind him came Magnus’s burly guards, black coattails snapping at their heels.

After what felt like far too long but what could only have been a few seconds, Parson James Jessup ran into the fray. His brothers were struggling to recover from the shock of the attack. They had no cohesion or formation. They needed a centre.

‘On me!’ he shouted.

The other Parsons seemed to awaken at his call and realise the extent of their jeopardy. They fell towards him; their ranks thickened and gained strength. Their training surfaced and they timed their blows as a unit. The Godless attackers – Parson James Jessup could only assume that these were Collins’s followers and that Collins was among them – pursued them.

The onslaught did not falter but it slowed. The Parsons ceased to fall as often but Parson James Jessup gauged that they had already lost thirty men. That left seventy against the thirty in opposition. It should still have been easy odds but it was not. He moved to the edge of their circle and took the place of a fallen comrade. It was not obvious what had brought the man down. No dark patch on his robes suggested a wound beneath them. No marks on his head or face showed the landing of a blow. But Parson James Jessup had seen men fall many times and he was certain his brother was dead. Most certain.

He found himself facing the Godless tramp that had felled him.

He swung his club in anger, a curve that was swift and heavy. It would stave in the woman’s head when it made contact. But when the bone reached its target, the woman was no longer in its path. He couldn’t see how she had managed to move. Thinking he’d misjudged the distance, he swung back in the natural opposite direction calculating for his mistake. This time he saw that she moved not when she saw the blow coming but somehow just before, almost at the moment he thought of it. Any moment now her attack would come and he was wasting energy on roundhouse swings that made him look like a brawler in Dino’s at the end of a Saturday night.

He feinted. She dodged, and, knowing exactly where she would go, he used the club in a thrusting motion. It made contact with her solar plexus – exactly as he’d planned. She was already moving away from the blow, though, and it connected without the weight he’d hoped. As he recovered his balance she was back in his face again and he could see the calm exultation in her expression. The certainty of purpose and utter absence of fear. And this, more than any speed she’d shown, was what shook his belief.

Behind him he heard the cries of shock and frustration as the other Parsons faced the same agility, the same self-assuredness and he knew that they would die.

All of them.

Swiftly.

Without mercy.

And yet, without malice.

It made him think of the Chosen.