The Quantum Thief

21. THE THIEF AND THE STOLEN GOODBYE

I say goodbye to the detective – Isidore – in his kitchen, the day after the zoku brings Pixil back.

‘She is different now,’ he says. ‘I don’t know why, but she is different.’

We sit around his kitchen table, and I try to avoid looking at the sombre, dirty brown wallpaper.

‘Sometimes,’ I say, ‘it only takes a few moments to make you a different person. Sometimes it takes centuries.’ I try to shake off the green creature that has been wandering around the table. It seems to regard me as a natural enemy, and keeps chewing on my sleeve. ‘But of course, you should not really listen to anything I say. Especially about women.’

I look at him: a bony nose, high cheekbones. The resemblance is there, around the mouth and the jaw and the eyes. I wonder what Raymonde and le Roi would have left to chance. I hope there is more of her in him than me.

‘You have changed a lot too,’ I continue. ‘Isidore Beautrelet, Cryptarch of the Oubliette. Or perhaps king would be a better word. What are you going to do next?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I can’t make every decision. I have to give the Voice back to the people. There has to be a better way to make this work. I’m going to give it up as soon as I can. And I have to figure out if… if I’m going to let everyone remember where the Oubliette really came from.’

‘Well, a revolution is always a beautiful dream,’ I say. ‘And you have just had a real one. Whatever you do, be careful. The Sobornost is going to come after you, hard and fast. The zoku will help now, I think: but it won’t be easy.’ I smile. ‘It’ll be exciting, too. Big and confusing. Like an opera, someone told me once.’

He looks out through the window. The city is still healing: it must be a different view than before. And the Prison is visible from here, a diamond needle above the Maze rooftops.

‘What about you?’ he asks. ‘Are you going to go off and do something… criminal?’

‘Almost certainly. I still have a debt to pay, I’m afraid.’ I grin. ‘You are welcome to catch me if you can. But I think you are going to be too busy.’ I give the green creature a dark look. It is now trying to get into my lap. ‘Of course, others here don’t seem to have that problem.’

I get up. ‘I’d better get going. Mieli hasn’t killed anything for a few days now, and that always puts her in a bad mood.’

I shake his hand. ‘I’m not your father,’ I say, ‘but you are a better man than I am. Keep it that way. But if you are ever tempted by the other path, let me know.’

To my surprise, he hugs me, hard.

‘No thanks,’ he says. ‘Be seeing you.’

Can we go yet? Perhonen asks. Do we have to wait for him?

The ship sits in the walled trail of the city, near the battered and scorched Quiet wall. Mieli is outside in a quicksuit, walking her restlessness away. There are are reliefs on the wall that remind her of Oort, landscapes and rows upon rows of blank faces. She touches them and hears the faint song carved in them, inside her mind.

‘Hi,’ says Raymonde. She is wearing her Gentleman outfit, but without a mask, and instead of a suit she wears a faint foglet halo. She notices the reliefs and a look of sadness and guilt passes across her face.

‘Is everything all right?’ Mieli asks.

‘Just remembering that there is someone I need to see.’ Raymonde looks at Perhonen. ‘That’s a beautiful ship.’

Thank you, Perhonen says. But I’m not just a pretty face. Raymonde gives the ship a bow. ‘You too, have our gratitude,’ she says. ‘You didn’t have to do what you did.’

You can’t see it, the ship says, sapphire shell gleaming, but I’m blushing.

Raymonde looks around. ‘He isn’t here yet? No surprise there.’ She kisses Mieli on both cheeks. ‘Good luck, and safe journey. And thank you.’ She pauses. ‘When you opened your gevulot, you showed us your thoughts. I saw why you are doing this. For what it’s worth, I hope you find her.’

‘It’s not a matter of hope,’ Mieli says, ‘but will.’

‘Good answer,’ Raymonde says. ‘And – don’t be hard on him. I mean – be hard, but not too hard. He can’t help what he is. But he is not as bad as he could be.’

‘Are you talking about me?’ the thief says, stepping out of a zoku transport bubble. ‘I knew you would talk about me behind my back.’

‘I’ll wait in the ship,’ Mieli says. ‘We are leaving in five minutes.’

In the end, I don’t know what to say to her. So we stand in silence, on the red sand. The shadows the city casts flicker all around us, wings of light and dark, beating.

After a while, I kiss her hand. If she has tears in her eyes, the shadows hide them. She kisses me lightly, on the mouth. She stands there, watching, as I walk to the ship. I turn to wave as the ship’s skin opens, and blow her a kiss.

Inside the ship, I weigh the Box in my hand.

‘Are you going to open that thing or not?’ Mieli asks. ‘I’d like to know where we are going.’

But I already know.

‘Earth,’ I say. ‘But can you ask Perhonen to take her time? I’d like to watch the scenery.’

To my surprise, she does not object. Perhonen rises slowly and makes a turn above the Moving City, over the vein of Persistent Avenue, the green expanse of the Tortoise Park, the papercraft castles of the Dust District. The city wears a different face now, but I smile it at nevertheless. It ignores me and keeps moving.

We are halfway to the Highway before I realise that the detective stole my Watch.