Guardian (36 page)

As it turned out, there was little difference between a factory working pion-binder and an architect. Which was a good thing, really, because it made Volski and Zecholas
’ lives considerably easier. They found Llada in the refugee camp, and Tsana too, but no one else from our original circle. The camp was large, however, and they refused to give up hope. They would have to look every single person in Movoc-under-Keeper in the eye before they gave Kieve, Nosrod, Kiati, Savvin and Nikol up for dead.

Even without trained architects they formed the necessary circles, out of light workers, heat rollers, and cook-plate operators. Anyone with enough skill, no matter how they had been trained. Veche Strikers aided in the organisation. One look from their eyeless faces and anyone, no matter how stubborn, would do what they were told.

Slowly, Movoc was being rebuilt. Slowly, but gathering pace. As the military allowed the aid from neighbouring cities to trickle through, and their pion-binders too, the number of architect-led circles swelled. And so, the city grew.

Even the Hon Ji emperor offered assistance. The interim veche returned his message unopened, and his messenger unharmed. He was warned, in no uncertain terms, that such a courtesy would not be extended a second time.

Of course, it was not so easy at first. When we finally emerged on the surface, half a dozen suited soldiers were waiting, with all that was left of the Movocian garrison—Mobs, Shielders, and Strikers—fanned out behind them. The few traitorous Mob who had not been killed were lined up, shackled in pion-enhanced chains, their dragon weapons laid on the ground before them.

The national veche, and the factions inside the regional and local who had not sided with the revolutionaries, demanded blood. They demanded Natasha brought forth to be summarily executed. Kichlan too—although no one could locate the strange group of men who ran the debris laboratories that had requested his capture. And they would take the rest of us into custody, for good measure, and for answers.

We refused, and the veche sent suited soldiers at us. When Kichlan, Sofia and I subdued them, they changed their tone considerably, and decided they were willing to listen. And who wouldn’t listen to Sofia, when the light glowed in her new, silver eyes, and she spoke with the voice of the Veil.

Sofia had been more than willing to accept the Veil within her, to share the new parts of her body with its presence. As I
’d suspected, replacing the eyes and the limbs she’d lost was far more complicated than healing Natasha’s injuries. Without Favian’s programming skills, I wouldn’t have stood a chance, but even then the suit-metal substitutes we created were unstable. Without the Veil. It rode her silver through all our shared connections—I gave her part of my suit, and that gave her access to the Keeper, and he rearranged the particle flow so that some of the Veil could come through, in her.

The Veil had told me once that it was a creative force. It couldn
’t give life to new worlds right now, but it could certainly return Sofia’s. Its presence stabilised her—almost as though it breathed life into her.

The veche still did not trust us, and I knew it would take a very, very long time before they did. If ever. Not least because we refused to give Natasha over to them. And though we had helped her escape Varsnia, so no citizen of Movoc-under-Keeper would ever set eyes on her again, this indignity festered. An old wound that would never fully heal. But even so they listened. Because we had the strength to rebuild Movoc-under-Keeper. Between us, Sofia and I gathered all the remaining debris in a day. We fed it back to the Keeper, and the Other, and stabilised the city. I assisted the first few architect circles—filling fissures, correcting the riverbed, reducing the worst buildings into sand so they could be built again—and this seemed to gain the trust of the pion-binders who worked with us. Even though I was strapped with silver, I was still one of them.

But I did not work with the circles for long, and was happy to leave the reconstruction in Volski and Zecholas’ extremely capable hands. They took easily to their new roles as circle centres, and even helped organise auxiliary teams to repair shattered pion connections: the heating, the lights, the drinking water and sewerage. The first time the lights were switched back on the veche organised a great feast, on a bright and warm day. Well, warm for Movoc-under-Keeper. Most of her remaining citizens ate joyfully into the evening, and as the darkness and starlight were replaced by streetlights once more, they cheered so loudly it echoed snow from the side of the Keeper Mountain.

But not all of the city could be repaired. The bridge and the buildings of the old city—right above the puppet men
’s laboratory—would never return. My art gallery was among them. Even after the work Sofia and I had done, the site of the old city remained unstable. Debris was known to float, at times, to the surface of the water or lance out with hard planes suddenly into the sky. Sofia and the national veche were in discussions about a suitable memorial, to be built in this place. If anyone had the strength and the knowledge to build something there, on such unruly ground, it would be Sofia. But not yet. As it was, the suited soldiers patrolled it, collecting as they went, ensuring the safety of the new buildings. Of all of New Movoc-under-Keeper.

It would still be a long while before the refugee camp was empty of people, and Movoc full again. The small studio that Kichlan and I shared on what was once Darkwater could, at times, feel like it was the only place in the city. Volski
’s circle had created it for us. Out of the way of the veche—establishing themselves in old university buildings on the other side of the river—and the newly growing city. A single building surrounded by rubble. It could have felt isolated, haunted.

But for us, it was perfect.

Kichlan frowned as he peered into a large mirror I had fused together for him out of the scavenged remains of hundreds of shattered pieces of glass. I still did not like to look at it, and see the silver scars on my face, or the shining scatters of code around my neck.

“
It’s too long.” He tugged a comb through his unruly curls, which only make them springier. “Nothing I do works.”

“
It’s fine.” I stood on my toes to kiss the back of his head and took his comb away. “I like it that way.”

He turned, lifted an eyebrow at me.
“And I’d like it if you at least tried to grow your hair long. You know, just to see what it looks like.”

I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Not everyone gets what they want,” I said, lightly.

He turned back to the mirror and began to fuss with his fringe.

“Leave it,” I said, with a laugh. “You don’t really think the way you look matters at all, do you?”

“
I want to make a good impression.”

I gently turned him around and kissed him, deeply.
“I think you already have.”

It took another bell before I could coax him onto the street. For a man who still only owned two different shirts—both heavily patched—one pair of pants and a single jacket, he spent a lot of time choosing which to wear.

Despite the way I laughed at him, despite my calm veneer, I felt a small nervous thrill as we walked the gradually clearing streets of New Movoc, holding hands—silver to silver. Foolish as it was, I couldn’t help it. We’d been planning this day for many sixnights now, and I’d been intimately involved with it from the beginning. I knew there was nothing to worry about, no matter how momentous it might be. It was hard not to fret though.

As we came to the new entrance to the Half laboratory, deep underground, we met Sofia coming the other way. Her silver eyes were bright in the darkness of the long set of deep stairs, and her silver arms clinked against the metallic handrail.

Zecholas and his circle had made this for us—a way to access the ancient Unbound street. It was, really, just a very long set of stairs. But he assured us it was only the beginning. I was looking forward to introducing him to the idea of pods.

“
You’re not staying?” I asked, surprised, as Sofia emerged onto the street.

She did not blink, in that moment between shadow and light. The eyes I had made for her did not need to adjust to the light.

She shook her head, and ran her silver fingers through her hair. Kichlan had helped me adjust her fingers, perfecting them over the past few sixnights. Telling me about weight, and the strain the silver I had drilled into him had put on his shoulders and back. His technician’s knowledge was useful too. The connections between her new suit-metal arms and her nervous system were complex and fine. I could see her pions too, of course, but it was Kichlan and Favian’s skills that had helped her, really. More than mine.

“
Too busy,” she said, with a smile. “Sorry, but the regional veche sent a message this morning. Something about finding workers for farmland in the Keeper valley. Apparently the greenhouse structures were destroyed when the laboratory exploded and we’re all going to starve unless we fix them, quickly.”

“
Well, I’m sure that’s important.” I hesitated. “But still…”

For a moment, Sofia
’s silver eyes glowed. “
I am here to help, Tanyana
,” said the Veil, from within her. “
I will attend to my duties. And anyway, I do not think they should see me quite yet. This will be hard enough as it is
.”

I nodded.
“As you like.”

“
Thanks,” Sofia said, her smile broadening as a carriage, one of the few so far repaired, drew to a halt behind us. “See you later. And good luck.”

We entered the stairwell, and descended.

“Too many stairs,” Kichlan muttered, about half way down. Silex along the walls lit the place in an eerie silvery glow.

I grinned at him. My suit-strengthened legs had no such trouble.

“Do you think she is happy?” Kichlan murmured, as we neared the end.

“
Sofia?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Yes,” I said, and hoped it was the truth. “It’s not perfect, but she has her body back. In a way. And a role, a place in the world, better than her old one. Something to keep her occupied.” And away from us. Even her silver eyes expressed her grief, if she stayed in the same room as Kichlan for too long. No matter how much we didn’t want to hurt her. “She’s not alone.”

“
And the Veil?”

We entered the underground street, and approached the silex wall. Unbound and debris collectors nodded to us from the few, small houses. The place looked like a home now—outfitted with curtains, furniture, and people. They all waited for the coming of the first new Halves. Waited, to make them welcome.

I hooked our silver arms as we walked, and as always, our suits softened together. We were one, in so many ways.

“
Yes,” I said at last. “This is not freedom. We cannot give it that. But here, it is not alone either. It has a role too, something to occupy that vast and impossible mind. Until our worlds finally die, of their own accord, and it is free.”

It was an alternative, and not perfect, certainly not. But it was all we could give the Veil we had trapped so thoughtlessly, so unknowingly.

“Finally.” Fedor hurried up the street. “You’re late.”

I lifted eyebrows at him.
“Going to start without us, are you?”

“
Of course not,” he snapped. “But it’s impolite to make him wait.”

“
I don’t think he minds,” Kichlan said, with a nervous smile. I squeezed his arm.

One of the large debris screens had been hung on the silex wall, hooked up to a complicated array of crystal and wires. Fedor had learnt a lot in the process of setting it up. Though it pained me to admit it, considering how much he still disliked me—whatever his reasons—he would have made a good programmer. He might still make one, of a kind.

Mizra knelt by his brother’s coffin, as he seemed to do most days now. But he smiled, as we approached, stood and even embraced me.

“
You’re here,” he said. “He has been looking forward to seeing you.”

I hugged him back, and together we crouched. Uzdal
’s body was wrapped almost entirely in a mixture of ice and silex. Mizra attended him daily, keeping him clean, and monitoring the wires and tubes that connected him to the wall. Uzdal would not rot away. Not, at least, until Mizra died and took his place. That, I hoped, was a very long way away.

Uzdal
’s dead eyes opened, and Favian smiled at me.

“
Welcome back, Tanyana,” he said, as he always did. “The doors are strong.”

“
Thank you, Favian,” I said. I ran a soft finger over his cold forehead. “I am glad to hear it.”

“
They are ready,” he said. “Are you?”

I stood.
“Are you?” I asked Kichlan.

He shook, just a little, and nodded.

We turned to face the screen as Fedor and his Unbound made the final adjustments with silex and wire.

The Keeper appeared beside me, silently.
“The Other is doing well,” he said, so softly only I could hear. “And it is a great help, to have another Guardian in the Veil.”