Last to Rise(8)
“How long, do you think?” I didn’t need to say what I meant; it was all anyone thought about, the question on everyone’s lips. How long until we starved or they broke the gates down, whichever came first.
Perak stared out, his face a study in misery, in the responsibility I tried – and failed – to avoid. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that he was here to do his usual trick of “dump Rojan in the shit”. He never meant to. But he did it just the same. And just the same, no matter how much I ran from responsibility – and believe me, I tended to run like fuck – when little brother came asking, big brother didn’t, couldn’t, turn him down. I was too tired to run any more.
“Not long enough,” he said.
“It was me they wanted handed over, I take it?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. The Storad made a list of demands. That we open the gates, that we let them in peaceably, dismantle the factories, neutralise the mages, and also that we first hand over you for public execution as an indication of our good faith. In return they won’t completely destroy the city. I think Dench is going to hold a grudge until the day he dies.”
Ah, yes, the redoubtable Dench, he of the careworn face and the drooping moustache. Ex-head of the Specials, ex-right-hand man of Perak. Ex-friend of mine, I think it was safe to assume, partly because I’d dumped the bastard right into the Storad camp he was working with anyway. No real loss, except… except he’d have been a handy guy to have around right now because he was a sneaky, devious and downright underhand fighter. The kind that’s great to have on your side, but not on theirs.
“But I told them, again, that we aren’t negotiating,” Perak said. “Not on any of it. The cardinals thought we could maybe appease them with you and talk about the rest. I said no. I don’t think they’re going to let it rest there, though. I think you need to be careful, Rojan.”
“When don’t I? But you’ve got a plan, right?”
It probably came out more sarcastic than I intended, because Perak always had plans, which was part of the trouble. Like the time he spent days “planning” a firecracker display that ended up taking out the front of the house, part of the walkway in front of it and the façade of the shop opposite. Having successfully scared the crap out of himself and everyone within about a mile’s radius, he’d promptly fainted. Which left me, dazed and confused, to take the tongue-lashing of a lifetime from said shop’s owner and, later, Ma. At first I’d been too groggy to protest, and by the time I wasn’t it didn’t matter – the shopkeeper thought I was guilty, so I was. Ma was too sick from the synthtox by then to disagree, and I didn’t want to make things any worse for her than they already were.
So I spent six weeks refurbishing that sodding shop in payment, repairing things that had been broken even before Perak’s little escapade. That shopkeeper really laid the screws on me, threatening to go back to Ma if I looked like I was slacking, threatening to make up all sorts of shit. Ma couldn’t take it, so I did. And Perak? Perak said he was sorry, and meant it, and then went back to daydreaming about what other chemicals he could mix together to explode.
At the time it made me want to strangle him, made me desperate not to be the adult in that family when I was barely in my teens. Made me desperate to run away from my responsibilities, which I duly did just as soon as Ma died. Looking at Perak now though, I thought that his daydreams were just his escape from what was happening to us, to Ma, same as running away from responsibility was mine. Because he wasn’t dreaming any more.
“I have a plan, or rather Lise does,” he said now.
“That explains the smell in the lab.”
Lise’s speciality was chemicals, and the stench of whatever she was brewing up pervaded the lab, the pain room and our offices. The colours were quite pretty, if you didn’t mind an accompanying whiff that could make your eyeballs pop out of their head. Today’s brew had been a particularly acrid-smelling choke that threatened to make my throat close up. Hell only knew what she meant to do with it.
Perak’s smile was thin, like he was, like we all were. “But that’s not why I’m here. Or maybe partly. I need you to go to the ’Pit.”
“What? What for? I’ve got enough to deal with, what with trying to find mages, trying to keep them fed, everything else, without traipsing off to the ’Pit.” That wasn’t why I didn’t want to go, naturally. The ’Pit held memories I wasn’t sure I wanted to revisit but I wasn’t about to say that out loud, especially not with Jake within earshot. I like to at least pretend I’m heroic in front of her.