‘What kind of assistance did you have in mind, exactly?’ Felka persisted.A tiny vein twitched in Skade’s brow. Jarring colour waves chased each other along her crest, like the patterns in a dragonfly’s wing. note 98‘And these “objects”,’ Felka said. ‘They wouldn’t by any chance be weapons, would they?’The Inquisitor said farewell to the driver who had brought her to Solnhofen. She had slept for five or six hours clean through on the drive, offering the driver ample opportunity to rifle her belongings or strand her in the middle of nowhere. But everything was intact, including her gun. The driver had even left her with the newspaper clipping, the one about Thorn.Solnhofen itself was every bit as miserable and squalid as she had suspected it would be. She only had to wander around the centre for a few minutes before she found what passed for the settlement’s heart: an apron of ground surrounded by two slovenly-looking hostels, a couple of drab administrative structures and a motley assortment of drinking establishments. Looming beyond the centre were the hulking repair sheds that were Solnhofen’s reason for existence. Far to the north, vast terraforming machines worked to speed the conversion of Resurgam’s atmosphere into a fully human-breathable form. These atmospheric refineries had functioned perfectly for a few decades, but now they were becoming old and unreliable. Keeping them working was a major drain on the planet’s centrally managed economy. Communities like Solnhofen made a precarious living from servicing and crewing the terraforming rigs, but the work was hard and unforgiving, and required — demanded — a certain breed of worker.The Inquisitor remembered that as she stepped into the hostel. She had expected it to be quiet at this time of day, but when she shoved open the door it was like stepping into a party that had only just passed its peak. There was music and shouting and laughter, hard, boisterous laughter that reminded her of barracks rooms on Sky’s Edge. A few drinkers had already passed out, huddled over their mugs like pupils guarding homework. The air was clotted with chemicals that made her eyes sting. She clenched her teeth against the noise and swore softly. Trust Four to pick a dump like this. She remembered the first time they had met. It had been in a bar in a carousel orbiting Yellowstone, probably the worst dive she had ever been in. Four had many talents, but selecting salubrious meeting places was not one of them.Fortunately no one had noticed the Inquisitor’s arrival. She pushed past some semi-comatose bodies to what passed for the bar: a hole punched through one wall, ragged brickwork at the edges. A surly woman pushed drinks through like prison rations, snatching back money and spent glasses with almost indecent haste.‘Give me a coffee,’ the Inquisitor said.‘There isn’t any coffee.’‘Then give me the nearest fucking equivalent.’‘You shouldn’t speak like that.’‘I’ll speak any fucking way I want to. Especially until I get a coffee.’ She leant on the plastic lip of the serving hatch. ‘You can get me one, can’t you? I mean, it’s not like I’m asking for the world.’‘You government?’‘No, just thirsty. And a tiny bit irritable. It’s morning, you see, and I really don’t do mornings.’A hand landed on her shoulder. She twisted around sharply, her own hand instinctively reaching for the haft of the boser-pistol.‘Causing trouble again, Ana?’ said the woman behind her.The Inquisitor blinked. She had rehearsed this moment many times since she had left Cuvier, but still it felt unreal and melodramatic. Then Triumvir Ilia Volyova nodded at the woman behind the hatch.‘This is my friend. She wants a coffee. I suggest you give her one.’The serving woman squinted at her, then grunted something and vanished from view. She reappeared a few moments later with a cup of something that looked as if it had just been drained from the main axle bearing of an overland cargo hauler.‘Take it, Ana,’ Volyova said. ‘It’s about as good as it gets.’The Inquisitor took the coffee, her hand trembling faintly. ‘You shouldn’t call me that,’ she whispered.Volyova steered her towards a table. ‘Call you what?’‘Ana.’‘But it’s your name.’‘Not any more, it isn’t. Not here. Not now.’The table that Volyova had found was tucked into a corner, half-hidden by several stacked beer crates. Volyova swept her sleeve across the surface, brushing detritus on to the floor. Then she sat, placing both elbows on the table’s edge and locking her fingers under her chin. ‘I don’t think we need worry about anyone recognising you, Ana. No one’s given me more than a second glance and, with the possible exception of Thorn, I’m the most wanted person on the planet.’The Inquisitor, who had once called herself Ana Khouri, sipped experimentally at the treaclelike concoction that passed for coffee. ‘You’ve had the benefit of some expert misdirection, Ilia…’ She paused and looked around, realising as she did so how suspicious and theatrical she must look. ‘Can I call you Ilia?’‘That’s what I call myself. Best leave off the Volyova part for the time being, though. No sense in pushing our luck.’‘None at all. I suppose I should say…’ Again, she looked around. She could not help herself. ‘It’s good to see you again, Ilia. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.’‘I’ve missed your company, too. Odd to think we once started out almost killing each other. All water under the bridge now, of course.’‘I began to worry. You hadn’t been in touch for so long…’‘I had good reasons to keep a low profile, didn’t I?’‘I suppose so.’For several minutes neither of them said anything. Khouri, for that was how she was daring to think of herself again, found herself recalling the origin of the audacious game the two of them were playing. They had devised it themselves, amazing each other with their nerve and ingenuity. Together, they made a very resourceful pair indeed. But for maximum usefulness they found that they had to work alone.Khouri broke the silence, unable to wait any longer. ‘What is it, Ilia? Good news or bad?’‘Knowing my track record, what do you think?’‘A wild stab in the dark? Bad news. Very bad news indeed.’‘Got it in one.’‘It’s the Inhibitors, isn’t it?’‘Sorry to be so predictable, but there you are.’
