the army, and that I was merely relaying the order. So I took a liberty, I admit. As I intimated earlier, these are not times for hesitant men. We aren’t hesitant men, are we?‘ ‘No…’ ‘That’s the spirit.’ He slapped him on the shoulder in a gesture of boisterous camaraderie. ‘The ship’s Eldritch Child , out of Macro Hektor Industrial trade halo. Do you think you and Lasher can take her, Scorpio? Or have I come to the wrong pigs?’ ‘Fuck you, H.’ The man beamed. ‘I’ll take that as “yes”.’ ‘I’m not done. I pick my team. Not just Lasher, but whoever else I say. No matter where they are in the Mulch, no matter the shit they’re in or the shit they’ve done, you get them to me. Understand?’ I will do what I can. I have my limits.‘ ‘Fine. And when I’m done, when I’ve set Clavain up with a ship…’ ‘You will ride that same ship. There isn’t any other way, you see. Did you seriously imagine you could melt back into Stoner society? You can walk out of here now, with my blessing, but I won’t give you my protection. And as loyal as Lasher may be, the Convention has scented blood. There is no reason for you to stay behind, any more than there’s a reason for Antoinette and Xavier to stay here. Like them, you’ll go with Clavain if you’re wise.’ ‘You’re talking about leaving Chasm City.’ ‘We all have to make choices in life, Scorpio. They aren’t always easy. Not the ones that count, anyway.’ H waved his hand dismissively. ‘It doesn’t have to be for ever. You weren’t born here, any more than I was. The city will still be around in a hundred or two hundred years. It may not look the way it does now, but what does that matter? It may be better or worse. It would be up to you to find your place in it. Of course, you may not wish to return by then.’ Scorpio looked back to the scrolling lines of trade argot. ‘And that ship… the one you’ve fingered… ?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘If I took her — gave her to Clavain — and then chose to stay aboard her… there’s something I’d insist on.’ H shrugged. ‘One or two demands on your side would not be unreasonable. What is it you want?’ ‘To name it. She becomes Zodiacal Light And that isn’t open to negotiation.’ H looked at him with a cool, distant interest. ‘I’m sure Clavain would have no objections. But why that name? Does it mean something to you?’ Scorpio left the question unanswered. Later, much later, when he knew that the ship was on its way — successfully captured, its crew ousted, and now ramming out of the system towards the star Delta Pavonis, around which orbited a world he had barely heard of called Resurgam — H walked out on to one of the middle-level balconies of the Chateau des Corbeaux. A warm breeze flicked the hem of his gown against his trousers. He took a deep breath of that air, savouring its scents of unguents and spices. Here the building was still inside the bubble of breathable atmosphere being belched out of the chasm by the ailing Lilly, that vast item of bioengineering that the Conjoiners had installed during their brief halcyon tenancy. It was night, and by some rare alignment of personal mood and exterior optical conditions he found that Chasm City looked extraordinarily beautiful, as all human cities are obliged to at some point in their lives. He had seen it through so many changes. But they were nothing compared with the changes he had lived through himself. It’s done , he thought. Now that the ship was on its way, now that he had assisted Clavain in his mission, he had finally done the one incontrovertibly good act of his life. It was not, he supposed, adequate atonement for all that he had done in the past, all the cruelties he had inflicted, all the kindnesses he had omitted. It was not even enough to expiate his failure to rescue the tormented grub before the Mademoiselle had beaten him to it. But it was better than nothing. Anything was better than nothing. The balcony extended from one black side of the building, bordered by only the lowest of walls. He walked to the very edge, the warm breeze — it was not unlike a constant animal exhalation — gaining in strength until it was not really a breeze at all. Down below, dizzying kilometres below, the city splayed out in tangled jetstreams of light, like the sky over his home town after one of the dogfights he remembered from his youth. He had sworn that when he finally achieved atonement, when he finally found an act that could offset some of his sins, he would end his life. Better to end with the score not fully settled than risk committing some even worse deed in the future. The power to do bad was still in him, he knew; it lay buried deep, and it had not surfaced for many years, but it was still there, tight and coiled and waiting, like a hamadryad. The risk was too great. He looked down, imagining how it would feel. In a moment it would be over save for the slow, elegant playing out of gravity and mass. He would have become no more than an exercise in ballistics. No more capacity for pain; no more hunger for redemption. A woman’s voice cut across the night. ‘No, H!’ He did not look around, but remained poised on the edge. The mesmeric city still pulled him towards itself. She crossed the balcony, her heels clicking. He felt her arm slip around his waist. Gently, lovingly, she pulled him back from the edge. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘This is not how it ends. Not here, not now.’ CHAPTER 24 ‘There’s the getaway car,’ said the swarthy little man, nodding at the solitary vehicle parked on the street.
Thorn observed the slumped shadow behind the car’s window. The driver looks asleep.‘
‘He’s not.’ But to be on the safe side, Thorn’s driver pulled up next to the other car. The two vehicles were identical in shape, conforming to the standard government-sponsored design. But the getaway car was older and drabber, the rain matt against irregular patches of repaired bodywork. His driver got out and trudged through puddles to the other car, rapping smartly on the window. The other driver wound down his window and the two of them spoke for a minute or so, Thorn’s driver reinforcing his points with many hand gestures and facial expressions. Then he came back and got in with Thorn, muttering under his breath. He released the handbrake and their own car eased away with a hiss of tyres.
‘There aren’t any other vehicles parked on this street,’ Thorn said. ‘It looks conspicuous, waiting there like that.’
‘Would you rather there was no car, on a piss-poor night like this?’
‘No. But just make sure the lazy sod has a good story in case Vuilleumier’s goons decide to have a nice little chat with him.’
‘He’s got an explanation, don’t worry about that. Thinks his missis is
