The White Towers (35 page)

“Then Narnok and Trista will die.”

“As will we.”

They all stared at one another.

“An act of Nature,” said Dek, voice sombre.

“Collateral damage is the phrase,” said Kiki.

“I ain’t ever going to be fucking collateral,” snapped Dek. “I go out kicking and screaming and killing every fucking bastard in the immediate vicinity.”

“Amen to that,” said Zastarte.

“We have to wait. It’s the only way. A natural order of things.”

Dek put his chin on his fist and sighed.

 

“Tell me about her.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you about my dad, if you tell me about your sister.”

A pause, just a little longer than usual. Then Kiki nodded. “We’ve got fuck all else to do.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What did he do? For a living?”

“He was a career soldier, at first. Later, a docker. Worked down on the docks organising the teams who loaded and unloaded ships. Freight. Cargo. His name was Kedd. Him and Mum met when he was in the army, way back. He’d been captured, then dug a tunnel with nine others and escaped. They were picked up by a scouting squad from Desekra; Vagandrak men.”

“So where was he from?”

“Far east. You never would have heard of it. Gave me an accent and a name that wasn’t local.”

“You have problems at school?”

Dek grinned. “Yeah. But. They learned fast, those Vagandrak fucks; no offence intended.”

“None taken,” said Kiki. “So you were beaten?”

“Nah. I was expelled. A lot. No bugger could stand against me, and yet there was always some cocky fucker trying it on. It is the nature of men. Of boys. Boys will be boys. All that horse shit. I remember, one day I was at home, peeling potatoes for Mam, and there’s this knock on the door. Three little shits wanting a slice of the new boy. So out I goes, and my best friend Callum is there, and he says, ‘Gods, you’re brave Dek’ but I shrugged it off because I wasn’t being brave, it was just a job that had to be done. And so we squared up, this absolute nasty, spineless little turd called Heeley. We waded in, I knocked his jaw to the other side of his face, then his mates jumped on my back. That was a fucking learning curve, I tell you. Taught me a lot about back-stabbing bastards. Taught me a lot about
people.
Because that’s what
people
are like. Out for themselves. Out to win. Out to conquer. Out to fuck over the weak with force of arms.”

“What happened to them?”

“All right, I broke Heeley’s jaw and cheek and shoulder, although I had to stamp on him three fucking times to make that work; then I killed Webber. Drove a shard of glass through his fucking heart. Had a lot of problems over that one. In the end, it helped they came to find me. It helped they came looking for me. It helped they’d attacked. I got away with a lot because of that. Self-defence. Obviously, I never told them I stamped the bitch, but hey, that’s all fair in love and war because the Law is a bitch and the Law favours the rich.” He smiled, a smile very much without humour.

Silence followed for a while. Outside, the storm howled.

“So then,” he said. “Tell me about your sister.”

“Nice try, Dek. Was that
really
a story about your father?”

Silence.

“Well?”

“No.”

“So, that’s not a fair trade then, is it? Come on. Spill it.”

Dek considered this, and Kiki saw it in his face. The raw animal energy to say
fuck you. I won’t tell you anything; why should I? This is my damn life, not yours.
But then something buckled, something cracked, and Dek looked down at the ground with its brass pipes and dials and intricacy.

“Talk about your father.”

“I don’t see why I should.”

“I think it might help you.”

“Really?” Sudden animal ferocity. “You fucking reckon, do you?”

Kiki stared at him. He subsided.

“Sorry.” His words were mumbled. “Don’t know what came over me.”

“We’re not in the Red Thumb Fighting Pits now, Dek.” She smiled, to take the sting out of her words. She took his hand – his large, scarred hand, more like a shovel with bony ridges in all reality – and she squeezed it hard.

“I’ve never told anybody before.”

“That’s all right.” She looked up at him in the surreal witch-light of the surreal chamber, deep within the bowels of an alien salt-ship.

“Kedd was a hard man. His father had been a hard man before him. It wasn’t so much that he beat me, but he did whack me whenever I was bad – and that was all the time. I was always breaking stuff, smashing stuff, even down to furniture. And I was naughty. Fighting – that you know about, but it didn’t bother Dad that much. There was this one time down at the Dead Dog Tavern, I was with Dad because we’d been to market and Dad’s on his stool with a soothing pint of ale, and I’m sat in the corner, keeping quiet like, ’cos they didn’t like kids in the taverns, then, and a landlord could get into a whole lot of trouble with the Watch. But Dad was a regular, knew the landlord, Big Pete, and even though Dad was well known as somebody you didn’t tangle with – you only had to look at the size of his fists and the bent and broken nose from scuffles in his youth, and later, from boxing in the army – well, he wasn’t a trouble maker and Big Pete allowed him a lot of leeway. So I’m sat there, with a bowl of dried pork strips to keep me quiet and not tell Mam we’d stopped off at the Dead Dog, when a man known as Boxing Buttley, big as a horse he was, and about as clever, comes over. Had a few too many ales, he had, accuses Dad of staring at his wife’s arse. Dad smiles at him, cool as anything, and says the only reason he’d stare at an arse that big would be to wonder how the fuck she could squeeze it through the door. Buttley stares at him, gawping, mouth flapping, until he worked out the insult. Throws a right and Dad just… kind of twitches, the slightest movement, and Buttley misses, spins and crashes to the floor. Everybody laughs, until Buttley gets up and glares around with his small piggy eyes. He was a mean bastard, and well known to be a mean bastard, him and his brothers.”

“What happened next?”

Dek pulled a flask from beneath his jerkin, and unscrewed the cap. He offered it to Kiki, who took it and knocked back a large slug. She choked, and coughed, red in the face, eyes streaming, and handed it back.

“Rancid fish oil?”

“Rokroth Marsh Fire.”

Kiki spat on the ground. “Of course it is. I should have known that taste… anywhere. Dek, they make it from fucking eels.”

“
Fucking
eels?”

She smacked his arm. “You know what I mean.”

“I ain’t told no one this story before.” He took a hefty swig. Then another. Then a third. He grinned at Kiki, and she could see the fire ignite his eyes from the inside. They glowed like dragon eggs. They glittered beautiful, like stolen diamonds.

Outside, the wind howled like a spear-stuck pig. Salt pattered against the walls of the ship; it sounded like distant snow.

“Yeah, you already said that.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s OK. I’m here to listen. I’m here to help. I’m here to care. I’m here to
love you,
Dek.”

He nodded. “I know, Keeks. I know.”

“Go on then. Boxing Buttley.”

“Launches himself at Dad, and there’s me with a dried pork strip to my mouth and holding my breath. This time, Dad kicks back off the stool and they set to like nothing I’ve ever seen. Boxing Buttley had his name for a reason, but Dad fucking pulverised him. Broke his nose and both cheekbones and one arm and his ankle. Left him whimpering on the floor like a little child. Then Dad stamps on his chest, breaking his sternum. I can still remember the cracking sound.” He gave a little shudder.

Kiki frowned. “Dek, you’ve done much worse than that. I’ve seen you!”

“Yeah. I know. But that was war. This was a pub brawl.”

“Dek, I’ve
still
fucking seen you do much worse than that.”

Dek considered this. “You reckon?”

“Oh, I know!”

“Well. Dad goes back to his ale, and the landlord brings out an ice-pack for his right fist because it was swollen something horrid. I carry on munching on my pig snacks, and ten minutes later the door opens and these five big fuckers come marching in, each one a bruiser and a brother to Boxing Buttley.
‘We’re looking for some cunt called Kedd
,’ says the biggest one, and man, was he big. A head taller than my father. But then, as I learned that day, doesn’t matter how fucking big you are – sometimes, you’ll just never be big enough. Dad stands up and lamps him one, knocks the so-called hard cunt out with one right hook to the temple. The others wade in, and Dad just stands there like a fucking… machine! It’s like he’s untouchable, and within about a minute he destroys them all. Utterly smashes them to the Chaos Halls. Then, he coolly finishes his ale, nods at the landlord, and walks through the hushed men of the tavern like he was a god. It was the most incredible thing I ever saw. Then we gets outside, and on the way home he gives me this big talk about how fighting is wrong, and you should always talk your way free of problems, and how Mam will be really pissed with him and it’s not good to bring possible future trouble down on your family. And all I’m thinking is, ‘Fuck, my dad is the hardest man in the world! He’ll never die! He’s indestructible and could even fight the mountains and win!’ because that’s the sort of hero worship bullshit a twelve year-old boy has for his dad.”

Dek lowered his head, rubbed his stubbled, weary face with both hands. Kiki squeezed his hand again. “What happened next?”

“The next day, down at the docks, they were unloading massive freighter crates using high cranes and steel cables. The Buttleys turn up in force looking for my dad, there’s ten of them this time, cousins with clubs and iron bars. But it was too late.”

“What was too late?”

“They were too late. He was already dead. A steel cable snapped, and a huge crate – big as a house – fell on Dad and three other men, killed them instantly. Crushed them. They sent one of the office managers to tell us. She was very sympathetic. But it still couldn’t stop my mother’s wails. Or stop my hate. Some reason, I blamed the Buttleys. Like, I don’t know, like it was their fault. If they’d left Dad alone, none of it would have happened.”

“Didn’t stop you though, did it?”

“Eh?”

“Logical thought and reason. Didn’t stop you hunting them down. Fighting them? Beating them into a bloody pulp? All of them?”

Dek gave her an odd look: sideways, confused, admiring. He shrugged. “That’s another story for another day. I told you about my dad. How he died. And that wrenched my heart from my chest and left it dangling on a hook for any shark to come and have a nibble on. I changed that day. I became a
bad person
that day.”

“You’re not a bad person, Dek. Never have been, never will be.”

He gave a little shrug. “It feels like it, a lot of the time. And there’s a lot of people out there with healed broken bones and bad memories who think I deserve to die. And there’s a lot of dead people waiting for me beyond the threshold of death; waiting with helves and iron bars, just waiting for me to step my little foot over the barrier. Then
whack
. Time for some serious retribution. Ha ha.”

Kiki leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around his massive frame. She couldn’t reach all the way around, but he got the idea.

“Your turn,” he said, and looked up at her.

“Ha. I knew you were going to say that.” And then the smile fell by gradients, and she looked into Dek’s eyes, at the love there, at the caring, and something gave a little shiver inside. “You want to know about my sister, Suza. But by telling you about Suza, I have to tell you something else. Something about my childhood. Something… terrible.”

“We all carry ghosts,” said Dek, gently.

“This is… different. It’s about the way I was born; born, that is, to be a
Shamathe
. It’s about the way I was born, and the way I was treated. It’s about how magick then… shaped me. Changed me. Healed me. But it’s a terrifying story for me to tell…”

“Why?” and Dek was there, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

She looked up at him, looked into his face. “Because I’m afraid you’ll leave me when you know,” she said.

“I’ll never leave you. Ever.” Hard words. And final.

Kiki gave a nod, but Dek could tell she didn’t believe him.

“What is it, Keeks? What’s so bad you think I could ever lose you again? Because you’re fucking wrong. I’ll love you till the stars burn out. Love you until the sun dies and falls from the heavens. I’m yours, baby. I’m yours forever.”

“I was born… different,” said Kiki, slowly, refusing to look up. “The first sounds of the midwife were a sharp intake of horrified fear. I…”

And then the horses started screaming.

Zastarte rolled awake, sword out with a hiss, and Kiki and Dek drew weapons and ran down the short tunnel, pausing carefully at the turn. The horses were rearing and stamping in the short space of tunnel, and Kiki leapt forward, grabbing reins, calming them down. Outside, the wind and the salt storm were shrieking, but it seemed to have lessened; grown calmer.

The three Iron Wolves advanced down the tunnel.

Outside, the sky was black, and salt whipped about, forming patterns in the air from the gusting violence.

“Still too harsh to travel through,” growled Dek.

“What upset the horses?” Kiki glanced back at him.

He shrugged.

Then Zastarte pointed. “What… is that?”

They stared through the gloom, where the salt danced above the hard-packed plain and rolling dunes.

And it was Dek who said it.

“Holy Mother, where the fuck did
those
come from?”