“I’m done. Goodbye.”
He hiked his bag onto his shoulder. Axel’s letter was crumpled in the inside pocket of his coat. As he walked out, his lungs burned as though he were breathing in acid. But he had made his decision, and Adelaide had clearly made up her own mind. If she wouldn’t give him his answers, he wouldn’t give her hers.
33 ADELAIDE
She switched on the changing room’s hose and ran the jet of water rhythmically over the red suit and the green, first up and down, then in horizontal passes. The drain guzzled gently. With their lolling hoods and missing hands and feet, the suits reminded her of gutted fish. She thought of the executed man. She turned them over to wash the other sides. When she reached up to put the red suit back on its hook, she found she could not take the step away. Her legs had become rubber too.
She squatted on the tiles and pressed her face against the suit. The hose still bubbled in her hand, drenching her clothes. Her shoes sat in the scummy water running towards the drain. Now the gargling was vociferous. No, it wasn’t the drain. The noise was in her own throat. She pressed her face close to the damp material, closer, until it hurt.
The tears streamed faster, but tears would not repair the damage she was doing, to Axel, to Vikram. Tears would not make the vault disappear, or spare the repercussions if Lao had, somehow, already found a way in. Tears were useless.
The noise subsided. With the silence that followed came a raw clarity. She lifted her head. For a long time she stared at the wall. She knew, as clearly as if she had been told, where she had to go. In the kelp forest, a sliver of mercury paused. The fish was waiting.
She hung the suits side by side to dry. In the changing room mirrors she caught a glimpse of her face. It was blotched with red, ugly. It didn’t matter. She knew where she was going now. There was only one place left.
34 VIKRAM
Linus’s secretary ushered Vikram into the office. Linus was at his Neptune, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the body of text. Some report or other, Vikram supposed. As Vikram came in, Linus stroked the activation strip and the screen went black.
“Vikram, good to see you. Can I get you a drink?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Linus dismissed the secretary with a nod of his head. He rolled over a chair.
“Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”
There was a sense of the mechanical about Linus’s office. It contained mathematical lines, faintly humming machines. The walls held graphs and charts. The only other colour was a yellow rosette stuck to the window-wall. Vikram recognized it: one of Adelaide’s invitations.
“Are you going to that?”
Linus looked and laughed.
“Certainly not. Adelaide and I have a deal.”
Surprise must have shown in Vikram’s face, because Linus added, “She sends me invites and I ignore them. It’s a very simple arrangement. A little odd to outsiders, perhaps.” Linus clasped his hands. “But Adelaide is still a Rechnov, whether she wants to be or not. Oh, she can play at society. She may even have some social influence, through that set of hers, and I admit that she’s popular with the press. Eventually, though, she’ll come back to us. She won’t be able to help it.”
Vikram kept his face still. Linus’s words did not make him feel any better about what he was about to do; on the contrary, he was inclined to delay the decision. But it had to done. He could not allow Adelaide to jeopardise everything that he had worked for.
“So what is it you actually do here?” he asked. “Apart from attending Council meetings, that is.”
“You don’t think that’s enough?” Linus allowed himself an ironic smile. “I can see your point. Well, when I’m not haranguing old men who should have left the Chambers years ago, I liaise with the meteorological office.” He waved his arm in an encompassing gesture. “These charts are weather maps.”
“You’re mapping the weather?” Vikram stared curiously at the nearest chart. Linus watched him.
“It didn’t use to be a phenomenon.”
“Will it work?”
“One day. It would be easier, of course, if we had access outside. But for that to happen, we have to change mindsets, and Osirisers are stubborn. They believe they are living in the last city on earth-it has quite a ring to it, of course.” Linus looked thoughtfully at the Neptune. “Almost…glamorous. But not true.”
Vikram had a sudden sense of the scale of Linus’s ambition. He wondered what future role Linus had in mind for himself-revolutionary charter of weather? Discoverer of distant shores? At this moment, on the verge of giving away Axel’s secret, Vikram felt less certain of Linus than he was of Adelaide. But he was angry, and he needed someone on his side.
“Don’t you think we would have been found by now? If there were still people out there-people on land?”
Linus turned his head, focusing gradually upon Vikram. Vikram sensed him sifting possible responses. As always when talking to Linus, he had that sense of his own insignificance; that it did not matter what Linus said to him, because nobody would ever believe an airlift’s word over a Rechnov’s. Then Linus’s lips quirked in a thin smile.
“I suppose that depends upon whether we want to be found.” He paused. “There’s certainly a multitude of reasons why it’s desirable not to be. Anyway, I could talk to you about this all day, Vikram, but I sense that’s not entirely why you’re here.”
Vikram gave the yellow rosette a last glance. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the envelope. Wordlessly, he placed it on the desk. Linus glanced down.
“It’s from Axel,” said Vikram.
He heard the intake of breath, slight but sharp, that followed. Seconds passed whilst the two of them stared at the envelope.
“I take it you’re aware of the contents,” said Linus.
Vikram nodded. Linus picked up the envelope, took out the letter, and unfolded it. He read in silence. Vikram knew the letter by heart. He could only imagine what magic Axel’s phrases might be working on his brother.
When he had finished, Linus put the letter back in the envelope. Vikram noticed that the other man did not fold it in the right way; some of the creases were doubled back and the shape was all wrong. He pressed his hands together to stop himself reaching out to show Linus how it worked.
“Has Adelaide seen it?” Linus made as if to put the envelope down, then kept it in his hand.
“Not yet.” He saw Linus take note of the qualifier. Good.
“How did you get it?”
He listened to Vikram’s story without interrupting. His face was expressionless. Vikram felt his own unease growing as he continued, but it was too late to back out now. Linus’s face creased in much the same way that Adelaide’s did when she was tending to her balcony plants.
“Why did you bring it to me?”
Vikram strove for the same level of impassivity.
“Adelaide’s helping me because she wants to find out what happened to Axel. If she knows, she’ll stop. I can’t keep this letter but I can’t give it to her.” Vikram shrugged. “You’re the next logical option.”
“You want to watch out, Vikram, you’re getting quite Rechnovian.”
Vikram said nothing.
“I think your assessment of Adelaide is correct,” said Linus. “And I’m inclined to agree with your actions. My
