would be back under the stones. Then, perhaps, the place would be ready for Val to use.
But Conor wasn't greedy for the future; he wanted it all now. Decent houses had to be knocked down to get timber for stalls for the guests. There wasn't a sheet of plastic big enough to cover up the roof, but they hung up awnings and canopies and put down red carpet plundered from a hotel in Park Lane. The remaining saints were painted in bright colours so you could see them better and a sound system was rigged up to play organ music for the congregation.
The Abbey was a Christian temple. The Volsons had given up on all that years ago but, like all the ganglords, Val was a superstitious man. It's true that under his grey silk suit he wore a silver cross, just in case Jesus happened to watching, but by its side was the stubby barrel of a small handgun, sawn off short and hammered into the likeness of a man with one eye. That was in honour of the strange gods who were said to have awakened in the halfman lands, and who had been seen these past few years inside the Wall, in the slums and suburbs of London itself. And for the same reason -unknown to Conor who would certainly have objected – a dead man hung upside down from his heel out of sight behind an awning. The new deities were said to favour sacrifice in this form. All nonsense of course – silly stories grown up from halfmen sightings by men from Ragnor or the other cities checking up on them. But Val considered it wise to take all precautions.
A thousand people sat and watched Val walk up the long aisle with Signy on his arm and give her away to Conor. From above, the crumbling saints watched from their niches and the dead man swayed lightly, his hair hanging straight to the ground as the bride held her head up and said, 'I do.'
Siggy stood with his brothers and hated it all. Ben leaned across and hissed, 'Siggy, you've got a face like a ferret.'
Siggy looked at him and tried to smile.
'It's supposed to be a happy day,' Ben told him, and sniggered. As far as he was concerned, Val was God. He never did a thing wrong.
His other brother, Hadrian, just grunted. 'He won't be gentle with her tonight or any night,' he said.
'She said he was tender,' said Siggy.
'Tender or rough, it'll be worth it if the treaty holds,' said Ben confidently. Hadrian nodded grimly. But Siggy didn't care about the treaty or the world or any amount of ambition. When he saw Conor lean forward and whisper something into the bride's ear, he let out a sigh like a pot bursting.
7
Hadrian
The night after the wedding the guards found someone walking up the staircase towards our living quarters. It was certainly the most serious lapse of security I can ever remember. They apprehended a man – or creature, perhaps, I have my doubts. He was stepping onto the stairs without a care in the world, as if he was taking a stroll around some public amusement Unbelievable. As if he wanted to be caught, having already got so close to us. Perhaps he did.
As head of security in Galaxy, it was my responsibility. I supervised the interrogation myself. He suffered, by the gods, he did, and there was a lot more to come, but he never said a single word. Not one. As a result I had no more to report when Val brought Ben and Siggy along to have a look than when we first caught him. I felt like a fool standing there with the guards as my father came up. Torture, you have to understand, is a fellow with a very forceful personality. It reduces the bravest of us to so much gobshite. But this man, he just seemed to soak it up. The suffering was like meat and drink to him.
I never saw anyone like him. He had only one eye, and it was like stone. Really, like a stone. The white was grey-blue, flinty, and you had the feeling that if you flung a pebble at it, it'd click. He stood there with two guards hanging on him like they were holding on to a bull and he stared down at us like it was us who were going to die.
He was weird – but the weirdest thing was that he was there in the first place. The security was solid. How'd he done it? Val was so furious I thought he might strike me, which I deserved. But I think my father understood what I was up against whenhe stood looking up at the prisoner, because I never saw anyone look Val down like that. That one eye in his big, bony face, like the face of an animal. He was wearing a wide black hat tied under his chin, which had somehow stayed on his head despite the beating he'd taken. He was about seven foot tall and he looked down at Val as if he was a child.
My nerves were already stretched and Ben was making it worse. Why Val insists on bringing him along to this sort of thing I don't know. Loyalty. That's Val, loyalty before sense.
'He's a spy, he's a spy!' Ben kept insisting. He jiggled up and down in excitement, grinning. 'We cleaned out the whole place, didn't we, Father? Didn't we? He must be a spy!' I hissed at him to try and make him shut up. Val was even angrier than I was and someone was going to get it any minute. But poor Ben was beside himself. 'He'll tell us if we torture him!' he squealed, as if I hadn't spent the last hour doing just that. He spun right round on his heel and stood there clapping and grinning.
My father stood gazing up into the prisoner's face. 'He'll tell, one way or the other,' he said quietly.
'It'd be better for him if it was now!' crowed Ben.
The prisoner was so tall we had to bend our necks back to look at him. Tied with nylon ropes around his shoulders, legs and neck, the guards on either side of him looked as if they'd lift up off the ground if he stretched himself. He made me feel like a little bit of shit.
I shook my head, trying to keep thinking clearly. 'Spies are people you're not supposed to see. Why should Conor send out a spy you can see from half a mile away? There's more to it than that.'
Ben gasped. 'An assassin! No! An assassin!' He went white, but he was grinning and giggling again a second later.
'Calm down,' ordered Val. Ben looked saw his look and went quiet. Val was serious.
'Sorry, Father.'
The prisoner began to make a ghastly noise from the blood gathering in his lungs. With every breath he let out a crackle like a foot turning in gravel. His clothes were soaked in blood. His face was strange, like I say. His expression didn't seem right, somehow. Perhaps he had some halfman in him.
Siggy looked away. He always hated this sort of thing.
'Kill him and finish it. If he hasn't talked yet he isn't going to,' he said. It was the first time Siggy had said anything and for some reason it caught the prisoner's attention. He looked at him as if he'd only just caught sight of him standing behind the rest of us… and he smiled at him. It was a friendly smile, but it was a terrible shock – like a dog or a statue suddenly smiled.
We all took a step back without thinking. Then we all turned to look at Siggy.
'I've never even seen him before,' he protested.
Ben was furious because the man had scared him. He took a pistol from his belt and whipped him with it. He had to jump off the ground to reach the big face. There was a gasp and a moan, but no words.
Val was watching Siggy. 'Come to the front,' he ordered. Siggy shrugged again, but he came forward under the shadow of the big man, who looked down at him and smiled again. Val was cross with Siggy these days. Father was the sort of man who could make anyone think anything, but not Siggy. Siggy had his own thoughts. Even Val couldn't change his mind.
Siggy had on his sulky face. He had it written all over him what he thought of this whole treaty business: so much bullshit.
'Well?' demanded Val. 'What's your opinion?'
Siggy shrugged again. 'I'd like to know how he got in with the security so tight,' he said at last. I snorted in disgust. Wouldn't we all? He looked at the guard. 'Is he human? I don't mean a halfman. Is he a machine?'
In answer the guards dragged the big man round on his ropes. His clothes were almost torn off him at the back, he was all but naked. From his neck to his feet he was a mass of bleeding bruises. 'I didn't find any metal,' said the guard grimly.
'And he said
