The Fractal Prince (19 page)

Read The Fractal Prince Online

Authors: Hannu Rajaniemi

BOOK: The Fractal Prince
2.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

He sounds like
Perhonen.
But everything he says is a lie or a trick
, she thinks. The warmth of the sauna makes her feel soft.
Maybe I should tell him why I’m doing this
. Then she remembers the way he touched Sydän’s jewel when they met the first time.

‘All right,’ she says, slowly. ‘We’ll do it your way. But if you betray me, I
will
find you again.’

She throws the last big
kiuas
stone into the water. The thief grunts at the hiss of the steam, squeezes his eyes shut, and flees. He does something to the hatch lock. It pops open, he squeezes through and slams it shut behind him. Mieli catches a glimpse of his thin, naked body and lobster-red skin.

Mieli closes her eyes. The last time she was here was with Sydän. Perhaps it won’t be so long before they are here together again.
Soon. Even if it’s going to take a little time
.

Then she opens the door to the vacuum, lets the air rush out. The steam in the air freezes into a sparkling cloud of ice crystals.

Mieli steps out, spreads her wings and kisses the Dark Man.

I cool down in the main cabin. My flushed skin tingles and gives me uncomfortable memories of being burned by first the Hunter and then the router. But there is a pleasant, heavy fatigue that comes with the feeling. Mieli explicitly forbade me to touch any of the food so I help myself to a few spider eggs and wash them down with the foul Oortian liquorice vodka.

You are not supposed to touch any of that yet
, the ship says.

‘Sorry, I can’t help it. Are you going to tell on me?’

I’ll use all the ammunition I can get if I have to
, the ship says.
Did she buy it
?

‘Not entirely. But good enough to go ahead.’

She must not know
.

‘I’ll make sure she won’t. Mieli has done a lot of the dirty work in this whole job. It’s my turn this time.’

I try the fruit. It has a strange, sweet flavour, like a persimmon but sharper.

‘In any case, sounds like you did some pretty good background work. She was in a receptive mood. The sauna was a good idea.’

That was all her
, the ship says.
But it’s good she listened. The sooner this is over, the better
.

‘Agreed,’ I say. ‘Let’s hope she thanks us later.’

To be honest, it’s unlikely. There is a part of me that dislikes the plan. Perhaps that is the real reason I did not go through it the last time. But now I have no choice.

‘There is always a choice, Jean,’ Joséphine says. ‘And you specialise in making the wrong ones.’

She is not wearing Mieli’s body this time. She is just a ghost in the Earth-lit cabin, just like I remember her, beautiful and tall, a woman who could be in her early forties if not for just the hint of fragility in her bones and neck. My heart jumps.


Wrong
is such a strong word,’ I say. ‘I prefer
unconventional
.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘I thought you were hiding.’

‘Only until you managed to sort out things with poor Sumanguru,’ she says, lighting a cigarette. ‘I was just amused to see how sentimental you are about Mieli. I have seen you do it before. You convince yourself that you care about them, just before you use them as tools. That’s why we are so compatible. With me, you don’t have to lie to yourself.’

‘I thought you were mad at me.’

‘Well,’ she says. ‘Sauna with an Oortian should be punishment enough for now. And you showed some sparks of the man I knew, Jean. Continue this way and you will have more than just your freedom. Bring me the jewel, and the System will be at our feet.’

‘I will bring you your jewel, but not your slippers,’ I say. ‘I’m not going to be your lapdog, ever again.’

She laughs. ‘Do you have any idea how many times we have had this conversation? Nothing ever changes, Jean, not for people like us. Being who you are for ever is the price you pay for immortality. That’s why we need the jewel. To change the rules.’

I raise my bulb to her. ‘Joséphine dear,’ I say, ‘you were always a better lover than a philosopher. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner to finish. And then a long journey without a body.’

She smiles her serpent smile. ‘And you won’t be going alone, Jean,’ she says. ‘I’m coming with you.’

Mieli feels almost content when they finish the meal. She hums to herself quietly. The rebuilt statues in the walls dance slowly to her tune.

‘Not that I’m particularly attached to this body,’ the thief says, ‘but do you mind telling me what you are going to do with it while I’m gone?’

‘Keep it out of sight,’ Mieli says.

They finish the last of the food in silence. The dessert is her masterpiece: golden cloudberries with spidermilk. That keeps even the thief quiet for a while.

‘What are you going to do when this is over?’ he asks, suddenly.

Mieli looks at him. ‘It’s time to go,’ she says. She flips to spimescape and thinks
Perhonen’s
thoughtwisp launcher ready. They are going to inject the thief’s mind into the Sobornost communications network, download him in compressed form into the smartmatter patterns of a delicate disc, thinner than a soap bubble, propelled towards Earth ahead of
Perhonen
.

‘All right. See you on Earth,’ the thief says. ‘Wait for my signal.’

‘Kuutar and Ilmatar go with you,’ Mieli says quietly.

‘Two goddesses? That’s quite a crew. But I guess that’s what it takes to get the job done.’

He closes his eyes and is gone. The thoughtwisp accelerates, pushed by the ship’s lasers, and vanishes into the dark.

16

TAWADDUD AND CASSAR GOMELEZ

As usual in his few spare hours, Cassar Gomelez is in the kitchen.

It is said amongst the older members of the Council that if Cassar had not followed his family trade, he would have become a chef in one of the finest restaurants of the Green Shard. The air is heavy with the smell of spices, the athar full of recipe fragments. Jinn servants prepare ingredients in small pots and containers, and Cassar himself is chopping vegetables into fine chunks, a huge knife in hand, broad back bent. His movements are delicate and quick.

For a moment, he does not acknowledge the presence of his two daughters. Then he puts the knife down, looks up and wipes his hands on his apron.

‘Father,’ Tawaddud says and curtsies. Her entire body still aches, but at least she has had time to change into clean clothes and clean up. She spent half an hour deciding what to wear, finally settling on a simple dark green robe and a white sash, covering her hair with a net and keeping her face plain.

Cassar looks at her, face set. Then he turns away, gathers the ingredients from the chopping board and drops them into a huge, steaming pot.

‘I see my daughter is unhurt, now. That is good. How is our guest?’ he asks, without turning around, studying the concoction. No matter what his mood, there is always a slight mournful note to Tawaddud’s father’s voice.

‘Lord Sumanguru is recuperating from his injuries,’ Dunyazad says. ‘His Seals appear to be intact in spite of being exposed to wildcode and a barakah gun.’

‘Thank the Aun for small mercies,’ Cassar says. ‘It would not have been good to lose a Sobornost envoy in a mad chase above the city.’

‘The Soarez are also complaining about the damage to their rukh ships. And Lord Salih is making a fuss about the destruction of the qarin and demanding—’ Duny begins.

‘We can handle the Soarez.’ Cassar waves a dismissive hand. ‘We have more important matters to discuss, now. Tawaddud.’

Tawaddud’s heart jumps.

‘Young Lord Nuwas . . . convinced me to allow you to be involved in this unfortunate affair. Whether that was wise or not remains to be seen. Now. Let me say that while it is good to see you take initiative and show interest in the affairs of our family, blackmail is not the way you should go about it. You should have come to me first. You will do so in the future. Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

Back still turned, Cassar inspects the containers that are stirring themselves.

‘No matter. Young Abu appears to be quite smitten with you, and that is useful. What did you discover in your investigation?’

Tawaddud takes a deep breath. She has been thinking what to say, going over the words again and again.

‘That Lady Alile was murdered through a possession, that whoever did it sought a Secret Name she had, and that whatever that is was enough for someone in the Council to try to have me and Lord Sumanguru killed,’ Tawaddud says. ‘And that Repentant Rumzan cannot be trusted. And I may . . . know the jinn who possessed Alile. He may lead us to whoever is behind this plot.’

‘I meant what did you discover about
him
. Sumanguru.’

Tawaddud stares at her father. His slightly protruding ears would make him look comical under the white cap if his expression was not so stern.

‘I do not understand. I thought my task was to—’

‘Use this opportunity to learn anything we could use against the Sobornost. That was the task I originally gave to Dunyazad.’

‘But— She didn’t—’

Dunyazad smiles sweetly at Tawaddud, one painted fingernail pressed against her lips. ‘Did I not tell you, dear sister, that this is not a game?’

Cassar sighs. ‘The investigation was always irrelevant. It was clear all along that the masrurs are behind this. I summoned a Sobornost representative for different reasons entirely.’ He tastes the contents of the pot with a ladle and makes a face.

‘Now. As for Repentant Rumzan, he has disappeared. We knew that he had masrur sympathies, even if he is not a Sword of Vengeance himself. It is my belief that the attack on you was directed at Lord Sumanguru – it is regrettable that you were in danger, of course. However, the qarin – and whatever secret you may think you found – had nothing to do with it. Of course, this Name may be valuable, and you should examine it with Chaeremon when the present crisis is over. But I ask you again: what did you discover about Sumanguru?’

Tawaddud bites her lip. ‘He is . . . afraid of heights.’ Her thoughts race. ‘And there are things in the Sobornost called Dragons that have no self-loops. He has enhancements for capturing minds in virs, for torturing them. But . . . he does not seem to enjoy it, even though he claims he does. . .’ She swallows, her mind suddenly blank. ‘There are a few other things, I can try to remember—’

‘Is that all?’ Cassar asks, hands behind his back. He shakes his head. ‘I would have hoped for more. You can tell these things to the political astronomers of the Council. They are no use to us. My daughter, I think I have fulfilled my obligation to Abu Nuwas. From now on, you will take care of our guest’s medical needs. When he is recovered, Duny will continue the investigation: she has already prepared many leads for Lord Sumanguru to pursue that will keep him busy for a long time. You can return to your own pursuits with the Banu Sasan. At least they show you have a good heart. And Lord Nuwas will make you a perfect husband.’

Tawaddud bites down tears.

‘What about Lady Alile? What about finding her murderer?’

Cassar bows his head.

‘Alile was a friend, and I regret her passing more than I can say. We will punish the masrurs for her in time. But meanwhile, she would want us to go on, do our duty for Sirr.’

It was the Axolotl, she wants to shout. I can find him. I can bring him to you. But she can’t bring herself to say the words.

Cassar’s eyes flicker: he gives her a sideways glance and looks away again.

‘I see you do not understand our duty, our responsibility. When Sirr-in-the-Sky fell, when our people were almost lost, it was a Gomelez who guided them. It was a Gomelez who spoke to the Aun and forged the pact that allows us to exist. Our burden today is the same: to find a way to survive.

‘The Cry of Wrath showed that the Aun do not love the Sobornost. When they tried to take our minds last time, the desert itself rose up against them. But if the whispers from our agents amongst the mercenaries are true, things have changed. The hsien-kus are gentle, but some of the other Founders are not. Some of them are far more powerful, and it may be that even the Aun cannot stand against them. So, for now, we must find a way to yield so as not to break – but without giving away what makes us who we are.’

‘By letting them send their machines to the desert to dig up souls?’ Tawaddud almost shouts, voice breaking.

‘That is what they have asked. Our answer depends on what they offer to us in return. But we need to
know
them, and I fear that you are not the right person to know this Sumanguru.’

Tawaddud looks down, biting down tears. Her face is numb. Her head and chest feel hollow.

‘If I could just explain—’ she whispers.

‘That will be all,’ Cassar Gomelez says, and turns back to his cooking.

Tawaddud and Duny walk down a pillared corridor back towards the living quarters. Halfway, Tawaddud can’t take it anymore. She slumps with exhaustion and sits on a stone bench, letting the purple evening light wash over her face. Her eyes sting, and she does not have enough strength left to handle a Secret Name to restore her energies. She is too tired to be properly angry. There is still no feeling in her lips.

‘You played me,’ she whispers.

‘Sister,’ Dunyazad says. ‘You
wanted
to play. Do not complain when you lose. I tried to help you. I asked you not to get involved. You did not listen.’ Then her expression grows serious. ‘And you were in danger. You could have died, chasing after the Fast Ones like that. Whatever our differences, you
must
believe me when I say that I would never wish to see you hurt. My thanks to the Aun came from the heart.’

‘I’m sure they did. And you have so many things to be thankful for. Are you happy now? Naughty Tawaddud has been spanked, and all is right in the world.’

‘Not yet.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We still need to take some precautions with our guest, and I could use your help.’

‘After what you just did, you still want my
help
? Are you insane?’

Dunyazad looks at the setting sun.

‘Do you want to do your duty as a Gomelez?’ she says softly. ‘I think we should set our petty games aside: there are many more of those we can play when Sirr is safe. Don’t you agree?’

Other books

And One to Die On by Jane Haddam
A Week in Paris by Hore, Rachel
Blood Kin by M.J. Scott
My Lady Vixen by Mason, Connie
Ficciones by Jorge Luis Borges
A Marriage Made at Woodstock by Cathie Pelletier
Shepherd by Piers Anthony
The Death Artist by Jonathan Santlofer