Redemption Ark

CHAPTER 23

Clavain and H rode the rattling iron elevator back up from the Chateau’s basement levels. On the way up, Clavain ruminated on what his host had shown and told him. Under any other circumstances, the story about Sukhoi and Mercier would have strained his credulity. But H’s apparent sincerity and the dread atmosphere of the empty room had made the whole thing difficult to dismiss. It was much more comforting to think that H had simply told him the story to play with his mind, and for that reason Clavain chose, provisionally, to opt for the less comforting possibility, just as H had done when he had investigated Sukhoi’s claims.

In Clavain’s experience, it was the less comforting possibility that generally turned out to be the case. It was the way the universe worked.

Little was said on the ascent. Clavain was still convinced that he had to escape from H and continue his defection. Equally, however, what H had revealed to him so far had forced him to accept that his own understanding of the whole affair was far from complete.

Skade was not just working for her own ends, or even for the ends of a cabal of faceless Conjoiners. She was in all likelihood working for the Mademoiselle, who had always desired influence within the Mother Nest. And the Mademoiselle herself was an unknown, a figure entirely outside Clavain’s experience. And yet, like H, she had evidently had some profound interest in the alien grub and his technology, enough that she had brought the creature to the Chateau and learned how to communicate with him. She was dead, it was true, but perhaps Skade had become such a willing agent of hers that one might as well think of Skade and the Mademoiselle as inseparable now.

Whatever Clavain had imagined he was dealing with, it was bigger — and it went back further — than he had ever imagined.

But it changes nothing, he thought. The crucial matter was still the acquisition of the hell-class weapons. Whoever was running Skade wanted those weapons more than anything.

And so I have to get them instead.

The elevator rattled to a halt. H opened the trelliswork door and led Clavain through another series of marbled corridors until they reached what appeared to be an absurdly spacious hotel room. A low, ornately plaster-moulded ceiling receded into middle distance, and various items of furniture and ornamentation were stationed here and there, much like items in a sculptural installation: the tilted black wedge of a grand piano; a grandfather clock in the middle of the room, as if caught in the act of gliding from wall to wall; a number of black pillars supporting obscure alabaster busts; a pair of lion-footed settees in dark scarlet velvet; and three golden armchairs as large as thrones.

Two of the three armchairs were occupied. In one sat a pig dressed like H in a simple black gown and trousers. Clavain frowned, realising — though he could not be absolutely certain — that the pig was Scorpio, the prisoner he had last seen in the Mother Nest. In the other sat Xavier, the young mechanic Clavain had met in Carousel New Copenhagen. The odd juxtaposition made Clavain’s head ache as he tried to construct some plausible scenario for how the two came to be together, here.

‘Are introductions necessary?’ H asked. ‘I don’t think so, but just to be on the safe side — Mr Clavain, meet Scorpio and Xavier Liu.’ He nodded first at Xavier. ‘How are you feeling now?’

‘I’m all right,’ Xavier said.

‘Mr Liu suffered heart failure. He was attacked with a taser weapon aboard Antoinette Bax’s spacecraft Storm Bird. The voltage setting would have dropped a hamadryad, let alone a human.’

‘Attacked?’ Clavain said, feeling it was polite to say something.

‘By an agent of the Ferrisville Convention. Oh, don’t worry, the individual involved won’t be doing that again. Or much else, as it happens.’

‘Have you killed him?’ Xavier asked.

‘Not as such, no.’ H turned to Clavain. ‘Xavier’s lucky to be alive, but he’ll be fine.’

‘And Antoinette?’ Clavain asked.

‘She’ll be fine, too. A few cuts and bruises, nothing too serious. She’ll be along shortly.’

Clavain sat down in the vacant yellow chair, opposite Scorpio. ‘I don’t pretend to understand why Xavier and Antoinette are here. But you…’

‘It’s a long story,’ Scorpio said.

‘I’m not going anywhere. Why not start at the beginning? Shouldn’t you be in custody?’

H said, ‘Matters have become complicated, Mr Clavain. I gather the Con-joiners brought Scorpio to the inner system with the intention of handing him over to the authorities.’

Xavier looked at the pig, doing a double take. ‘I thought H was joking when he called you Scorpio before. But he wasn’t, was he? Holy fuck. You are him, the one they’ve been trying to catch all this time. Holy fuck!’

Your reputation precedes you,‘ H said to the pig.

‘What the fuck were you doing in Carousel New Copenhagen?’ Xavier asked, easing back into his seat. He appeared disturbed to be in the same building as Scorpio, let alone the same room.

‘I was coming after him,’ Scorpio said, nodding at Clavain.

Now it was Clavain’s turn to blink. ‘Me?’

‘They gave me a deal, the spiders. Said they’d let me go, wouldn’t turn me over, if I helped them track you down after you gave them the slip. I wasn’t going to say no, was I?’

H said, ‘They provided Scorpio with credible documentation, enough that he would not be arrested on sight. I believe they were sincere in their promise that he would be allowed to go free if he assisted in bringing you back into the fold.’

‘But I still don’t

‘Scorpio and his associate — another Conjoiner — followed your trail, Mr Clavain. Naturally it took them to Antoinette Bax. That was how Xavier became involved in the whole unfortunate business. There was a struggle, and some damage was done to the carousel. The Convention already had an eye on Antoinette, so it did not take them long to reach her ship. The injuries that were sustained, including Scorpio’s, all took place when the Convention proxy entered Storm Bird.’

Clavain frowned. ‘But that doesn’t explain how they come to be… oh, wait. You were shadowing them, weren’t you?’

H nodded with what Clavain thought was a trace of pride. ‘I expected the Conjoiners to send someone after you. For my own curiosity I was determined to bring them here, too, so that I might determine what part they played in this whole curious affair. My ships were waiting around Copenhagen, looking for anything untoward — and especially anything untoward concerning Antoinette Bax. I am only sorry that we did not intervene sooner, or a little less blood might have been shed.’

Clavain turned around at the sound of metronomic ticking, coming nearer. It was a woman wearing stiletto heels. An enormous black cloak fanned behind her, as if she walked in her own private gale. He recognised her.

‘Ah, Zebra,’ H said, smiling.

Zebra strode up to him and then wrapped her arms around him. They kissed, more like lovers than friends.

‘Are you certain that you don’t need some rest?’ H asked. ‘Two busy jobs in one day…’

‘I’m fine, and so are the Talkative Twins.’

‘Did you — um — make arrangements concerning the Convention employee?’

‘We dealt with him, yes. Do you want to see him?’

‘I imagine it might amuse my guests. Why not?’ H shrugged, as if all that was being debated was whether to have afternoon tea now rather than later.

‘I’ll fetch him,’ Zebra said. She turned around and clicked into the distance.

Another pair of footsteps approached. Clavain corrected himself. It was really two pairs of footsteps, but which fell in near-perfect synchrony. It was the two huge mouthless men wheeling a chair between the settees. Antoinette was sitting in the chair, looking tired but alive. She had many bandages on her hands and forearms.

‘Clavain…’ she started to say.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘And pleased to hear that you’re well. I’m sorry to learn that there was trouble on my account. I sincerely hoped that when I left, that would be the last of it for you.’

‘Life’s just never that simple, is it?’ Antoinette said.

‘I suppose not. But I’m sorry all the same. If I can make amends, I will.’

Antoinette looked at Xavier. ‘You’re OK? She said you were, but I didn’t know if I should believe her.’

‘I’m fine,’ Xavier told her. ‘Right as rain.’

But neither of them had the energy to get out of their chairs, it seemed.

‘I didn’t think I’d manage it,’ Antoinette said. ‘I was trying to get your heart started, but I didn’t have the strength. I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness, so I gave it one last try. I guess it worked.’

‘Actually, it didn’t,’ H said. ‘You passed out. You’d done your best, but you’d lost a lot of blood yourself.’

‘Then who…?’

H nodded at Scorpio. ‘Our friend the pig saved Xavier. Didn’t you?’

The pig grunted. ‘It wasn’t anything.’

Antoinette said, ‘Maybe not to you, Mr Pink. But it made a hell of a difference to Xavier. I suppose I should say thank you.’

‘Don’t cut yourself up over it. I’ll live without your gratitude.’

‘I’ll still say it. Thanks.’

Scorpio looked at her and then grunted something unintelligible before looking away.

‘What about the ship?’ Clavain said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. ‘Is the ship OK?’

Antoinette looked at H. ‘I guess it isn’t, right?’

‘Actually, she’s fine. As soon as Xavier was conscious, Zebra asked him to instruct Storm Bird to fly on automatic pilot to some coordinates we provided. We have secure holding facilities in the Rust Belt, vital for some of our other operations. The ship is intact and out of harm’s way. You have my word on that, Antoinette.’

‘When can I see it again?’

‘Soon,’ H said. ‘But exactly how soon I am not willing to say.’

‘Am I a prisoner, then?’ Antoinette asked.

‘Not exactly. You are all my guests. I would just rather you did not leave until we have all had a chance to talk. Mr Clavain may have his own opinion on the matter, perhaps justifiably, but I think it is fair to say that some of you owe me for saving your lives.’ He held up a hand, cutting off any objections before anyone had a chance to speak. ‘I do not mean that I hold any of you in debt to me. I merely ask that you indulge me with a little of your time. Like it or not,’ and he glanced at all of them in turn, ‘we are all players in something larger than any of us can readily grasp. Unwilling players, perhaps, but then it has always been thus. By defecting, Mr Clavain has precipitated something momentous. I believe we have no option but to follow events to their outcome. To play, if you like, our predetermined roles. That includes all of us — even Scorpio.’

There was a squeaking sound, accompanied by more of the metronomic clicking. Zebra had returned. Ahead of her she propelled an upright metal cylinder the size of a large tea urn. It was burnished to a high gleam and sprouted all manner of pipes and accoutrements. It sat propped on the cushion of a wheelchair, the same kind that Antoinette had arrived in.

The cylinder was, Clavain noticed, rocking slightly from side to side, as if something inside was struggling to escape.

‘Bring it here,’ H said, gesturing Zebra forwards.

She wheeled the cylinder between them. It was still wobbling. H leaned over and rapped it softly with his knuckles. ‘Hello there,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘Nice that you could make it. Do you know where you are, I wonder, or what has happened to you?’

The cylinder wobbled with increasing agitation.

‘Let me explain,’ H said to his guests. ‘What we have here is the life-support system of a Convention cutter. The pilot of a cutter never leaves his spacecraft for his entire term of service, which can be many years. To reduce mass, most of his body is surgically detached and held in cold storage back at Convention headquarters. He doesn’t need limbs when he can drive a proxy via a neural interface. He doesn’t need a lot of other things, either. They are all removed, labelled and stored.’

The cylinder lurched back and forth.

Zebra reached down and held it steady. ‘Whoah,’ she said.

‘Inside this cylinder,’ H said, ‘is the pilot of the cutter responsible for the recent unpleasantness aboard Miss Bax’s spacecraft. Nasty little fellow, aren’t you? What fun it must be, terrifying innocent crews who have done nothing worse than violate a few silly old laws. What larks.’

‘It isn’t the first time we’ve done business,’ Antoinette said.

‘Well, I’m afraid our guest has gone just a little bit too far this time,’ H said. ‘Haven’t you, old fellow? It was a simple matter to detach your life-support core from the rest of the ship. I hope it didn’t cause you too much discomfort, although I imagine there must have been no little pain as you were disconnected from your ship’s nervous system. I’ll apologise for that now, because torture really isn’t my business.’

The cylinder was suddenly very still, as if listening.

‘But I can’t very well let you go unpunished, can I? I am a very moral man, you see. My own crimes have sharpened my sense of ethics to a quite unprecedented degree.’ He leaned close to the cylinder, until his lips were almost kissing the metal. ‘Listen carefully, because I don’t want there to be any doubt in your mind as to what is to happen to you.’

The cylinder rocked softly.

‘I know what I need to do to keep you alive. Power here, nutrients there — it’s not rocket science. I imagine that you can exist in this can for decades, provided I keep you fed and watered. And that is precisely what I am going to do, until the moment you die.’ He glanced at Zebra and nodded. ‘I think that’ll be all, don’t you?’

‘Shall I put him in the same room as the others, H?’

‘I think that will do very nicely.’ He beamed at his guests and then watched with obvious fondness as Zebra wheeled the prisoner away.

When she was out of earshot Clavain said, ‘You’re a cruel man, H.’

‘I am not cruel,’ he said. ‘Not in the sense you mean. But cruelty is a useful tool if one can only recognise the precise moment when it must be used.’

‘That fucker had it coming,’ Antoinette said. ‘Sorry, Clavain, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over that bastard. He’d have killed us all if it wasn’t for H.’

Clavain still felt cold, as if one of the ghosts they had recently discussed had just walked through him. ‘What about the other victim?’ he asked with sudden urgency. ‘The other Conjoiner. Was it Skade?’

‘No, it wasn’t Skade. A man this time. He was injured, but there’s no reason why he won’t make a full recovery.’

‘Might I see him?’

‘Shortly, Mr Clavain. I am not done with him yet. I wish to make absolutely certain that he can’t do me any harm before I bring him to consciousness.’

‘He lied, then,’ Antoinette said. ‘Bastard told us he didn’t have any implants left in his head.’

Clavain turned to her. ‘He’ll have kept them while they were still useful, only flushing them out of his body when he was about to pass through some kind of security check. It doesn’t take long for the implants to dismantle themselves — a few minutes, and then all you’re left with are trace elements in the blood and urine.’

Scorpio said, ‘Be careful. Be very fucking careful.’

‘Any particular reason why I should be?’ H asked.

The pig pushed himself forwards in his seat. ‘Yeah. The spiders put something in my head, tuned to his implants. Like a little valve or something, around one vein or artery. He dies, I die — it’s simple.’

‘Mm.’ H had one finger on his lip. ‘And you’re totally certain of this?’

‘I already passed out once, when I tried strangling him.’

‘Friendly relationship you two had, was it?’

‘Marriage of convenience, pal. And he knew it. That was why he had to have a hold on me.’

‘Well, there may have been something there once,’ H said. ‘But we examined all of you. You have no implants, Scorpio. If there was anything in your head, he flushed it out before you reached us.’

Scorpio’s mouth dropped open in a perfectly human expression of astonishment and intense self-disgust. ‘No… the fucker couldn’t have…’

‘Very probably, Scorpio, you could have walked away at any time and there wouldn’t have been a thing in the world he could have done to stop you.’

‘It’s like my father told me,’ Antoinette said. ‘You can’t trust the spiders, Scorpio. Ever.’

‘Like I need to be told that?’

‘You were the one they tricked, Scorpio, not me.’

He sneered at her, but remained silent. Perhaps, Clavain thought, he knew there was nothing he could say that would not make his position worse.

‘Scorpio,’ H said, with renewed seriousness, ‘I meant it when I said you were not my prisoner. I have no particular admiration for the things you did. But I have done terrible things myself, and I know that there are sometimes reasons that others don’t see. You saved Antoinette, and for that you have my gratitude — and, I suspect, the gratitude of my other guests.’

‘Get to the point,’ Scorpio grunted.

‘I will honour the agreement that the Conjoiners made with you. I will let you leave, freely, so that you can rejoin your associates in the city. You have my word on that.’

Scorpio pushed himself from the seat, with noticeable effort. ‘Then I’m out of here.’

‘Wait.’ H had not raised his voice, but something in his tone immobilised the pig. It was as if all that had come before was mere pleasantry, and that H had finally revealed his true nature: that he was not a man to be trifled with when he moved on to matters of gravity.

Scorpio eased back into his seat. Softly he asked, ‘What?’

‘Listen to me and listen well.’ He looked around, his expression judicial in its solemnity. ‘All of you. I won’t say this more than once.’

There was silence. Even the Talkative Twins seemed to have fallen into a deeper state of speechlessness.

H moved to the grand piano and played six bleak notes before slamming the cover down. ‘I said that we live in momentous times. End times, perhaps. Certainly a great chapter in human affairs appears to be drawing to a close. Our own petty squabbles — our delicate worlds, our childlike factions, our comical little wars — are about to be eclipsed. We are children stumbling into a galaxy of adults, adults of vast age and vaster power. The woman who lived in this building was, I believe, a conduit for one or other of those alien forces. I do not know how or why. But I believe that through her these forces have extended their reach into the Conjoiners. I can only surmise that this has happened because a desperate time draws near.’

Clavain wanted to object. He wanted to argue. But everything he had discovered for himself, and everything that H had shown him, made that denial harder. H was correct in his assumption, and all Clavain could do was nod quietly and wish that it were otherwise.

H was still speaking. ‘And yet — and this is what terrifies me — even the Conjoiners seem frightened. Mr Clavain is an honourable man.’ H nodded, as if his statement needed affirmation. ‘Yes. I know all about you, Mr Clavain. I have studied your career and sometimes wished that I could have walked the line you have chosen for yourself. It has been no easy path, has it? It has taken you between ideologies, between worlds, almost between species. All along, you have never followed anything as fickle as your heart, anything as meaningless as a flag. Merely your cold assessment of what, at any given moment, it is right to do.’

‘I’ve been a traitor and a spy,’ Clavain said. ‘I’ve killed innocents for military ends. I’ve made orphans. If that’s honour, you can keep it.’

‘There have been worse tyrants than you, Mr Clavain, trust me on that. But the point I make is merely this. These times have driven you to do the unthinkable. You have turned against the Conjoiners after four hundred years. Not because you believe the Demarchists are right, but because you sensed how your own side had become poisoned. And you realised, without perhaps seeing it clearly yourself, that what lies at stake is bigger than any faction, bigger than any ideology. It is the continued existence of the human species.’

‘How would you know?’ Clavain asked.

‘Because of what you have already told your friends, Mr Clavain. You were voluble enough in Carousel New Copenhagen, when you imagined no one else could be listening. But I have ears everywhere. And I can trawl memories, like your own people. You have all passed through my infirmary. Do you imagine I wouldn’t stoop to a little neural eavesdropping when so much is at stake? Of course I would.’

He turned to Scorpio again, the force of his attention making the pig edge even further back into his seat. ‘Here is what is going to happen. I am going to do what I can to help Mr Clavain complete his assignment.’

‘To defect?’ Scorpio asked.

‘No,’ H said, shaking his head. ‘What would be the good of that? The Demarchists don’t even have a single remaining starship, not in this system. Mr Clavain’s gesture would be wasted. Worse than that, once he’s back in Demarchist hands I doubt even my influence would be able to free him again. No. We need to think beyond that to the issue itself, to why Mr Clavain was defecting in the first place.’ He nodded at Clavain, like a prompter. ‘Go on, tell us. It’ll be good to hear it from your lips, after all that I’ve said.’

‘You know, don’t you?’

‘About the weapons? Yes.’

Clavain nodded. He did not know whether to feel defeated or victorious. There was nothing to do but talk. ‘I wanted to persuade the Demarchists to put together an operation to recover the hell-class weapons before Skade can get her hands on them. But H is right: they don’t even have a starship. It was a folly, a futile gesture to make me feel that I was doing something.’ He felt long-postponed weariness slide over him, casting a dark shadow of dejection. ‘That’s all it ever was. One old man’s stupid final gesture.’ He looked around at the other guests, feeling as if he owed them some kind of apology. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve dragged you all into this, and it was for nothing.’

H moved behind the chair and placed two hands on Clavain’s shoulders. ‘Don’t be so sorry, Mr Clavain.’

‘It’s true, isn’t it? There’s nothing we can do.’

‘You spoke to the Demarchists,’ H said. ‘What did they say when you broached the topic of a ship?’

Clavain recalled his conversation with Perotet and Voi. ‘They told me they didn’t have one.’

‘And?’

Clavain laughed humourlessly. ‘That they could get their hands on one if they really needed to.’

‘And they probably could,’ H said. ‘But what would it gain you? They’re weak and exhausted, corrupt and battle-weary. Let them find a ship — I won’t stop them. After all, it doesn’t matter who recovers those weapons, so long as it isn’t the Conjoiners. I just think someone else might stand a slightly better chance of actually succeeding. Especially someone who has access to some of the same technology that your side now possesses.’

‘And who would that be?’ Antoinette asked, but she must have already had an inkling.

Clavain looked at his host. ‘But you don’t have a ship either.’

‘No,’ H said, ‘I don’t. But like the Demarchists I might know where to find one. There are enough Ultra ships in this system that it would not be impossible to steal one, if we had the necessary will. As a matter of fact, I have already drawn up contingency plans for the taking of a lighthugger, should the need ever arise.’

‘You’d need a small army to take one of their ships,’ Clavain said.

‘Yes,’ H said, as if this was the first time it had occurred to him. ‘Yes, I probably would.’ Then he turned to the pig. ‘Wouldn’t I, Scorpio?’

Scorpio listened carefully to what H had to say concerning the delicate matter of stealing a lighthugger. The audacity of the act he was proposing was astounding, but, as H pointed out, the army of pigs had performed audacious crimes before, if not on quite so great a scale. They had taken control of entire zones of the Mulch, usurping power from what was still laughingly called the authorities. They had made a mockery of the Ferrisville Convention’s attempts to extend martial law into the darkest niches of the city, and by way of reply the pigs and their allies had established lawless enclaves throughout the Rust Belt. These bubbles of controlled criminality had simply been edited off the map, treated as if they had never been reclaimed after the Melding Plague. But that did not make them any less real or negate the fact that they were often more harmonious environments than the habitats under full and legal Ferrisvillle administration.

H mentioned also the activities that the pigs and the banshees had extended across the system, using them to illustrate his thesis that the pigs already had all the necessary expertise and resources to steal a lighthugger. What remained was simply a question of organisation and timing. A ship would have to be selected some considerable period in advance, and it would have to be the ideal target. There could be no prospect of failure, even a failure that cost the pigs little in terms of lives or resources. The instant the Ultras suspected that there was an attempt being made to possess one of their precious ships, they would tighten their security by an order of magnitude, or leave the system en masse. No: the attack would have to take place quickly and it would have to succeed first time.

H told Scorpio that he had already run a number of simulations of theft strategies, and he had concluded that the best time was when a lighthugger was already in its departure phase. His studies had shown that this was when the Ultras were at their most vulnerable, and when they were most likely to neglect their usual security measures. It would be even better to select a ship that had not done well in the usual trade exchanges, as these were the ships that were likely to have sold some of their defence systems or armour as collateral. That was the kind of deal that the Ultras kept to themselves, but H had already placed spies in the parking swarm network routers that intercepted and filtered Ultra trade dialogues. He showed Scorpio the latest transcripts, skimming through reams of commercial argot, highlighting the lucrative deals. In the process he drew Scorpio’s attention to one ship already in Yellowstone space that was doing badly in the latest rounds.

‘Nothing wrong with the ship itself,’ H said, lowering his voice confidentially. ‘Technically sound, or at least nothing that couldn’t be fixed on the way to Delta Pavonis. I think she might be our one, Scorpio.’ He paused. ‘I’ve even had a quiet word with Lasher… your deputy? He’s aware of my intentions, and I’ve asked him to put together an assault squad for the operation — a few hundred of the best. They don’t have to be pigs, although I suspect many of them will be.’

‘Wait. Wait.’ Scorpio raised his clumsy stub of a hand. ‘You said Lasher. How the fuck do you know Lasher?’

H was amused rather than irritated. This is my city, Scorpio. I know everyone and everything in it.‘

‘But Lasher…’

‘Remains fiercely loyal to you, yes. I’m aware of that, and I made no attempt to turn his loyalty. He used to be a fan of yours before he became your deputy, didn’t he?’

‘You know shit about Lasher.’

I know enough that he would kill himsel if you gave the word. And as I said, I made no effort to turn him. I… anticipated your consent, Scorpio. That’s all. Anticipated that you would accept my request and do what I ask. I told Lasher that you had already ordered him to assemble the army, and that I was merely relaying the order. So I took a liberty, I admit. As I intimated earlier, these are not times for hesitant men. We aren’t hesitant men, are we?‘

‘No…’

‘That’s the spirit.’ He slapped him on the shoulder in a gesture of boisterous camaraderie. ‘The ship’s Eldritch Child, out of Macro Hektor Industrial trade halo. Do you think you and Lasher can take her, Scorpio? Or have I come to the wrong pigs?’

‘Fuck you, H.’

The man beamed. ‘I’ll take that as “yes”.’

‘I’m not done. I pick my team. Not just Lasher, but whoever else I say. No matter where they are in the Mulch, no matter the shit they’re in or the shit they’ve done, you get them to me. Understand?’ I will do what I can. I have my limits.‘

‘Fine. And when I’m done, when I’ve set Clavain up with a ship…’

‘You will ride that same ship. There isn’t any other way, you see. Did you seriously imagine you could melt back into Stoner society? You can walk out of here now, with my blessing, but I won’t give you my protection. And as loyal as Lasher may be, the Convention has scented blood. There is no reason for you to stay behind, any more than there’s a reason for Antoinette and Xavier to stay here. Like them, you’ll go with Clavain if you’re wise.’

‘You’re talking about leaving Chasm City.’

‘We all have to make choices in life, Scorpio. They aren’t always easy. Not the ones that count, anyway.’ H waved his hand dismissively. ‘It doesn’t have to be for ever. You weren’t born here, any more than I was. The city will still be around in a hundred or two hundred years. It may not look the way it does now, but what does that matter? It may be better or worse. It would be up to you to find your place in it. Of course, you may not wish to return by then.’

Scorpio looked back to the scrolling lines of trade argot. ‘And that ship… the one you’ve fingered…?’

‘Yes?’

‘If I took her — gave her to Clavain — and then chose to stay aboard her… there’s something I’d insist on.’

H shrugged. ‘One or two demands on your side would not be unreasonable. What is it you want?’

‘To name it. She becomes Zodiacal Light And that isn’t open to negotiation.’

H looked at him with a cool, distant interest. ‘I’m sure Clavain would have no objections. But why that name? Does it mean something to you?’

Scorpio left the question unanswered.

Later, much later, when he knew that the ship was on its way — successfully captured, its crew ousted, and now ramming out of the system towards the star Delta Pavonis, around which orbited a world he had barely heard of called Resurgam — H walked out on to one of the middle-level balconies of the Chateau des Corbeaux. A warm breeze flicked the hem of his gown against his trousers. He took a deep breath of that air, savouring its scents of unguents and spices. Here the building was still inside the bubble of breathable atmosphere being belched out of the chasm by the ailing Lilly, that vast item of bioengineering that the Conjoiners had installed during their brief halcyon tenancy. It was night, and by some rare alignment of personal mood and exterior optical conditions he found that Chasm City looked extraordinarily beautiful, as all human cities are obliged to at some point in their lives. He had seen it through so many changes. But they were nothing compared with the changes he had lived through himself.

It’s done, he thought.

Now that the ship was on its way, now that he had assisted Clavain in his mission, he had finally done the one incontrovertibly good act of his life. It was not, he supposed, adequate atonement for all that he had done in the past, all the cruelties he had inflicted, all the kindnesses he had omitted. It was not even enough to expiate his failure to rescue the tormented grub before the Mademoiselle had beaten him to it. But it was better than nothing.

Anything was better than nothing.

The balcony extended from one black side of the building, bordered by only the lowest of walls. He walked to the very edge, the warm breeze — it was not unlike a constant animal exhalation — gaining in strength until it was not really a breeze at all. Down below, dizzying kilometres below, the city splayed out in tangled jetstreams of light, like the sky over his home town after one of the dogfights he remembered from his youth.

He had sworn that when he finally achieved atonement, when he finally found an act that could offset some of his sins, he would end his life. Better to end with the score not fully settled than risk committing some even worse deed in the future. The power to do bad was still in him, he knew; it lay buried deep, and it had not surfaced for many years, but it was still there, tight and coiled and waiting, like a hamadryad. The risk was too great.

He looked down, imagining how it would feel. In a moment it would be over save for the slow, elegant playing out of gravity and mass. He would have become no more than an exercise in ballistics. No more capacity for pain; no more hunger for redemption.

A woman’s voice cut across the night. ‘No, H!’

He did not look around, but remained poised on the edge. The mesmeric city still pulled him towards itself.

She crossed the balcony, her heels clicking. He felt her arm slip around his waist. Gently, lovingly, she pulled him back from the edge.

‘No,’ she whispered. ‘This is not how it ends. Not here, not now.’