Last to Rise(32)

Frost-rimed arrow slits disguised as light-wells. Heavy, clanking gates that had once looked like the entrance to just another secured factory but now, when you looked a certain way, just had to be something more. Little puffs of chilly breath marked the guards – ours and theirs – that now stood openly in front of it.



News-sheets made their way from hand to hand among the crowds, saying much the same as the rumours. The news-sheets were – well, they weren’t unbiased, let’s put it like that. They were unofficial rumour mills for the things certain cardinals wanted people to believe, or would be prepared to believe, rather than actual truth. Propaganda. And while not everyone believed all of it, enough believed enough of it. Funny how Perak’s really officially official news-sheet, detailing calmly and rationally what was going on, what he intended to do and what people could do to help themselves and Mahala, was mostly ignored as being the far-fetched ravings of a loony. We’d had all the other stuff shoved down our necks for so long, people found it hard to believe the truth when it bit them on the nose.



Someone thrust a copy of one of the more virulent sheets into my hand and I stopped dead when I saw my own ugly mug there, down near the bottom.



Wanted: Rojan Dizon, pain-mage and heretic.

All information received in confidence, and paid for in cash.



I glanced over it, noted the name of the cardinal who had sponsored the sheet – that bold cardinal from before, who wondered whether Perak would protect me if I weren’t his brother – and ripped that sucker into bits. The bit about me was bad enough, if not a shock. That cardinal must be getting desperate. The rest though – what a load of old bollocks. The people Under were safe, it said, the guards and Specials had everything in hand. The Storad had no interest in destroying the city, only debilitating our trade – this at least was a hope I had, but I didn’t set much store by hope, from long and dark experience. The sheet went on to tell people how to protect themselves in their own homes, to trust in Ministry, and to iterate very strongly indeed that the Mishans would let no one through their gates. Similar spiels had been spouted at many a temple over the last days, cardinal-propelled sops to keep the rabble quiet. Perak had tried to get it to stop, but each temple had its own patron cardinal and they toed that cardinal’s line like it was a lift into heaven.



If the spurious news-sheets were saying all this then it meant that the Mishans would let a few people through – the cardinals who sponsored the news-sheets and temples almost certainly. Anyone who couldn’t afford to pay through the nose, which meant anyone from Under, was fresh out of luck.



After the sheets had made their rounds, and after a few choice words from some of the Mishan guards, the crowd loosened its stranglehold on the gates. Some stayed, but more drifted away. Murmuring about what they could do now, speculating on what the sheets had said, that they’d be safe if they stayed Under, wouldn’t they? Then looking at a different sheet, sponsored by a different cardinal, reading about all the things the Storad would do to them when they got in…



I threw the ripped sheet away and made my way down.



Another boom-shudder – it was worse down here, a hundred times worse, for all that the sound was fainter. The rumble shook through me and all the buildings that crowded around. Reminded me how many buildings sat above, waiting to crush the life out of me if they fell. The walkway beneath my feet swayed – not as solid down here, more likely to be rotten with rust, more likely to break, tip me down a couple of dozen or so floors. Less far to fall this far down, but that was still enough to splat me. I grabbed hold of the nearest building and held on for grim death. Something pinged past my face and I hoped like hell it wasn’t one of the bolts holding the walkway in place. I kept my eyes shut. Stupid, I know, because it was as dark as Namrat’s heart all around me, but that didn’t stop the image of a long drop making me want to scream. Almost took my mind off keeping an eye out for any would-be kidnappers. Almost.



After a time the walkway settled and so did my heartbeat, though I made sure I kept hold of something solid as I carried on. I was glad when I came to one of the few Glow globes that lit the walkways. Even gladder when I got to the house I was after. Inside I’d be able to pretend long drops were things that didn’t happen.



Another boom-shudder. Was it me or where they getting closer together? It didn’t really matter because the walkway lurched under me and I fell into the door rather than knocking on it. I tried to hold myself together when the door opened, because I wasn’t going to give a good impression by screaming like a baby. It kind of worked. The scream came out as a squeak, which still wasn’t very professional but better, and I managed to avoid falling through the doorway too.