stampede of security men behind her. She tugged over towers of baskets, upended a kebab stand and shouldered a table of spices, dashing a white wall with multicoloured arcs.
The thunder of footsteps behind her did not recede in the least. Her tactics were not working. The security guards were simply too large and were bustling past the obstacles.
This tactic was no more succesful than the last. Her pursuers were familiar with the medina’s layout and coordinated their pursuit on hand-held radios, herding Holly towards the leather souq.
Holly raced on, Artemis’s loafers cutting into her heels. A series of cries and curses arose behind her as she barged without apology through bands of tourists, and shoulder-slammed tea boys, sending trays flying.
It occurred to Holly then that she was leading the posse directly to Artemis, but there was no other option. If he were waiting, then he could help; if not, then she was her own anyway.
She jinked left but four huffing guards blocked the alleyway, all hefting vicious long-bladed knives.
Right, then. Holly skidded into the leather souq, heels throwing up dust fans.
She cast her gaze upwards towards their observation point, but there was nothing there. Not even the telltale shimmer of a hide.
She felt panic scratch at her heart. Holly Short was an excellent field officer, but she was way out of her jurisdiction, her league and her time.
The leather souq was quiet now, with only a few workers scraping skins on the surrounding rooftops. Lanterns crackled below the roofline and the giant urns lurked like alien pods. The smell was just as bad as it had been the previous day, possibly worse, as the vats had had longer to cook. The stench of droppings hit Holly like a soft, feverish glove, further addling her mind.
Holly spent half a moment considering which body part she would trade for a weapon, then sprinted for a doorway in the adjacent wall.
A guard appeared, dragging his knife from his sheath. The blade was red. Maybe blood, maybe rust. Holly switched direction, losing a shoe in the turn. There was a window one floor up, but the wall was cracked — she could make the climb.
Two more guards. Grinning. One held a net, like a gladiator.
Holly slid to a halt.
She tried again. An alleyway barely broad enough for an adult human. She was almost there when a fat guard with a ponytail to his waist and a mouthful of yellowed teeth wedged himself into the avenue, blocking it.
It was difficult to stay calm, in spite of all her training and experience. Holly could feel her animal instincts bubble in the pit of her stomach.
But what could she do? One unarmed, child-sized fairy against a squadron of armed muscle.
They formed a ragged circle around her, weaving between the urns in a slow-motion slalom. Every set of greedy glittering eyes focused on her face. Closer and closer they came, spreading their arms wide in case their prey made a dart for freedom.
Holly could see their scars and pockmarks, see the desert in their nails and on their cuffs. Smell their breath and count their fillings.
She cast her eyes towards the heavens.
‘Help,’ she cried.
And it began to rain diamonds.
‘That is not a lemur,’ repeated Opal Koboi, drumming a tiny toe on the floor. ‘I know it is not a lemur because it has no tail and it seems to be wearing clothes. This is a human, Mervall. A Mud Boy.’
A second pixie appeared in the doorway. Mervall Brill. One of the infamous Brill brothers who would break Opal out of her padded psych cell some years later. His expression was a mixture of puzzlement and terror. Not pretty on any face.
‘I don’t understand it, Miss Koboi,’ he said, twiddling the top button on his crimson lab coat. ‘It was all set up for the lemur. You mesmerized Kronski yourself.’
Opal’s nostrils flared. ‘Are you suggesting this is somehow my fault?’ She clutched her throat, as if the very idea caused her breath to fail.
‘No, no, no,’ said Mervall hurriedly. ‘It could not be Miss Koboi’s fault. Miss Koboi is, after all, perfection itself. Perfection does not make mistakes.’
This outrageous statement would be recognized as blatant toadying by right-minded people, but Opal Koboi found it fair and rational.
‘Exactly. Well said, Mervall. A pity your brother does not have a tenth of your wisdom.’
Mervall smiled and shuddered. The smile was in acceptance of the compliment, the wince was because the mention of his twin had reminded him that his brother was at this moment locked in a cage with a red river hog, as punishment for not complimenting Opal on her new boots.
Miss Koboi was having a bad day. Currently, two out of seven were bad. If things got any worse, even though the wages were astronomical, the Brill brothers might be forced to seek alternative employment.
Mervall decided to distract his boss. ‘They’re going crazy up there. Firing weapons. Duelling with cutlery. Those Extinctionists are an unstable lot.’
Opal leaned over Artemis, sniffing gently, wiggling her fingers to see if the human was awake.
‘The lemur was the last one. I was
‘How close?’ asked Mervall.
Opal squinted at him. ‘Are you being funny?’
‘No. I sincerely wondered-’
‘It’s an expression,’ snapped the pixie, striding back towards the main chamber.
Mervall nodded slowly. ‘An expression. I see. What should I do with the human?’
Opal did not break her stride. ‘Oh, you might as well harvest him. Human brain fluid is a good moisturizer. Then we pack up and find that lemur ourselves.’
‘Should I dump his drained corpse in the animal pit?’
Opal threw up her arms. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Must I tell you how to do everything? Can’t you show a little initiative?’
Mervall wheeled the pallet after his boss.
Diamonds rained down in glittering showers. Falling stars twinkling in the lamp light.
For a moment the guards were transfixed. Their faces wore the dazed expression of children who have woken and are surprised to find themselves in a good mood. They stretched out their fingers, watching the diamonds bounce and tumble.
