Chapter 4
The Manse corridors were empty as Agrozo led Mathias and his guards to the Administry wing. On one level, Mathias had already accepted what had happened: March was no longer alive.
But he tried to distance himself from that thought.
How could he mourn when he was being marched like this through the Manse, surrounded by soldiers of the Primal Guard? He felt physically broken, like when the market-place crowd had threatened to crush him. Twelve years earlier, when his mother had been killed in the Abidjan Uprising, Mathias had felt like this; only now it was worse. The closest family he had left was Edward. True, there were Sala and, especially, Greta, but they were not family. Walking through the corridors, he could only think of this loss; he had no time for thoughts of his own future or what was happening to him at that moment.
The fact of his arrest finally hit him when Agrozo hammered at the door of the Prime's office and called, 'Prisoner Mathias arrested and awaits interview.'
The door opened and Agrozo was ushered in. After a minute or two the door opened again and Mathias was ordered to enter.
This had been March's favourite room. Here he had a broad desk and a view over the Manse gardens; on fine days he would open the windows for the scents of the Expatrian herbs. The room was cluttered with mementoes and signs of regular use; the single bookshelf was heavy with hand-bound volumes of Expatrian history, some written by Sala Pedralis, one volume even penned by the Prime himself, back when he had only been heir to his vagabond father.
But now the room had lost its easy atmosphere. Four guards stood by the door, a scribe sat poised to document the proceedings, and the Prime's oak desk had been cleared. Seated behind the desk was Lars Anderson, Captain of the Prime's Guard. At his left shoulder stood Lucilla Ngota, staring at the wall and carefully avoiding Mathias's gaze. Mathias could not tell if she would be his ally or not, events were still confusing him.
He looked at Anderson and stepped forward. 'Tell me, Captain. Is it true? What happened?'
Anderson's face told him nothing. The captain had taught Mathias to shoot, shown him the basics of shore-casting for mawfish; they had spent many hours, just the two of them, the world left far behind. And now they were on opposite sides of the dead Prime's desk.
'The Prime is dead,' said Anderson. 'Please, answer my questions. This has to be done. Where did you go after you assaulted the Prime tonight?'
'Then, Captain, am I not now the Prime of Newest Delhi? I demand that you tell me exactly what happened tonight. My father has been murdered and you sit there wasting my time with trivia!'
Anderson did not seem affected by Mathias's outburst. 'Very commendable, sir. I hope you are telling the truth. I hope that in time, too, you will see the necessity of this interview. Yes, you are technically the new Prime. But in the present contingencies I am still an officer of the old Prime and you, sir, are technically under arrest. Forgive me, but we must proceed. Where did you go tonight?'
'Lucilla?' But she was still staring at the wall. He wondered at what there had been between her and his father—she had been repeatedly unfaithful to him, with the women and men of the Court, but she had remained longer than any of her predecessors. 'Lucilla, you know this is wrong.' Then, she finally looked at him and he wished he had kept quiet. There was venom in her eyes, she was directing the naked flame of her hatred directly at his heart. He looked back at Anderson, shaken.
'I learnt of my father's death when I found Agrozo in my suite. After... after leaving the Dumandee I wandered in the streets then walked out along Gorra Point to a place we call the Pinnacles—tall needles of rock. I sat for a time, regretting my earlier behaviour, swearing to mend my ways. Then I returned to this.'
'You neglect your somewhat unconventional means of entering your suite,' said Anderson. 'Why did you sneak in? Why did you want people to think you were already in your room when the alarm was raised?'
'You are making false assumptions, Captain Anderson.' Mathias was learning that his self-control was far greater in real adversity than was normally the case. 'I did not know an alarm would be raised, as I had no idea what had happened. My method of return is one developed over years of avoiding parental restrictions. I chose to "sneak in" tonight because I wished to avoid meeting anyone who may have witnessed my earlier behaviour. Captain Anderson, I was ashamed. Now, this has gone on too long, you must have more important things to do.' No matter how hard he tried, he could not adopt the same tone of authority his father had used to such good effect; Anderson merely ignored him.
'What did you think when you learnt of the means of death?'
'Nobody has told me any details,' said Mathias. 'Presumably So you could try such amateurish methods of interrogation.'
Anderson ignored the slight. 'Why did—' He was interrupted by a knock on the door. 'Yes?'
Agrozo walked in and put something on the desk. After a muttered explanation in Anderson's ear he retreated to stand by the bookshelf.
Anderson looked at Mathias, something new in his eyes. 'Tell me, Mathias,' he said. 'Why should you have a stolen servant's mask in your possession?'
'I don't know what—'
'This one,' continued the captain, holding one out before him, the item that Agrozo had brought in. 'It was found on your balcony. A crude form of anonymity, but one that might work. Why were you carrying it? And why did you drop it when you saw my men?'
Before Mathias could answer there was a roar of rage from behind the desk and Lucilla Ngota had stepped around it and thrown herself at him. The impact knocked him to the ground, and he fought her frantically until two guards dragged them apart.
Disbelievingly, he stared at Lucilla. He had never seen a person so enraged. She would have killed him if she had not been stopped.
'Worthless,' she hissed, still struggling with the guards. 'You'll pay.' Mathias did not like to look at her as she struggled to get to him.
'Enough!' snapped Anderson. 'This takes us nowhere.' He gestured at a guard and Mathias was led out of his father's office. The last words he heard Anderson say were, 'There will be a trial. You must let justice do its...' Then the words grew too faint to hear and Mathias dumbly followed his guard through the long Manse corridors.
~
Dawn was breaking by the time the guard locked the door from the outside. Mathias looked around at the room that was to be his prison. It was an ordinary guest-room, in the south wing of the Manse. He was still shaken by Lucilla's reaction, but he knew that all he could do was wait until events proved his innocence.
At first he had been willing to accept that his arrest was inevitable, after the murder of the Prime. He had publicly assaulted March, only hours—minutes?—before his death. And Mathias was the person with most to gain from the situation: the inheritance of the Primacy of Newest Delhi, and with it the effective rule of almost half the population of Expatria. It was natural that suspicion should fall on his shoulders.
But the mask cast everything in a different light. Someone was trying to set him up, presumably the same person who had killed the Prime. He remembered the disturbance in the streets that night: the guard had told him it was Black-Handers, out for whatever they could grab while the revellers were distracted by Dumandee. The militia had easily kept control. He thought again of the dark currents flowing through the city he had thought he understood, the cults, the clans, the disenchanted. What did they think they would gain by all this? And then he stopped himself. Speculation would do him no good. Where had his self-discipline gone?
There was a knock at the door and he glanced up to see it open and someone step through.
'Idi!' They rushed together and embraced. 'Idi, how did you get in? Tell me what's happening!'
Idi's face looked serious and hollow, as if he had not slept that night. 'Your sentries don't like what they're doing here,' he said. 'There's a lot of people like that. Word gets around, you know? How much they tell you? Nothing? I figured. Listen, word is your pa was strangled with a power cable. Like a PA cable, they say. They say he left the party after an argument with you—yeah, I know you didn't to it, least I did when I just saw your face. After this bust-up he left, then Edward found him dead and you're chin-deep in shit creek. It stinks.' Idi smiled for the first time, but it was obviously an effort.
'You say Edward found him?'
'It's not what I say, it's what they say. It's what the militia and the guards say when they're letting off steam, it's what servants say who don't like the idea of being under Eddy.' He smiled again. 'It's the word, Matt, the word. They say he was broken up about it, say he was crying when he called the guards. They kept it quiet at first, until they figured they knew what had happened.
'Word also says that Eddy's ma has crawled out of the woodwork, now she's heard what's happening. She's trying to put pressure on for Eddy to be adopted above you as the new Prime. She doesn't care what comes of this, just says it's another proof that you're not the right stuff like her Eddy is.' Idi sighed. 'What have they got on you that'll stick?'
'Nothing solid,' said Mathias. 'Not that they've told me. Except for a mask somebody planted in my room; Anderson says I used it for cover. Someone put it there, Idi. Someone wants me out of the way.'
'Good reasoning, Matt. Except it's not just you: they wanted the Prime out of the way, too.'
Someone coughed outside the guest-room door and Idi stepped towards it. 'That's my signal. Time to go. Listen, Matt, try not to worry.' He shrugged. 'Yeah, I know. But you've got friends out here. We're not going to let you go down with this.'
Idi opened the door and Mathias hurried over to stop him. 'Listen, Idi,' he said. 'Will you get word to Greta for me? She has to know what's happening. I have to see her!'
'Hey, there's no have tos from where you're sitting, Matt. Yeah, OK. I'll try, I'll do something.' He gave a final grin. 'We'll get you out, Matt. They can't do this.'
~
Mathias tried to occupy his mind as he sat imprisoned in the guest-room. He counted the animals that flew past the window, setting terran birds against the native bat-types. The Expatrians were well ahead when he stopped counting. He tried to listen for the sea, but the day was calm and the sea quiet. He even tried to recall his list of cliff-top burrowers but it was no good. Always his mind came back to his lost father. He wished things had been easier between them; the feelings had always been there but it took death to make Mathias see that.
They brought him food—a plate of corn hash—towards the middle of the day. He didn't eat it. He just sat there, working his depression more deeply into his soul, wondering what his half-brother was doing in his place.
Later he sat watching the sun, too low and red to hurt his eyes. The day had been a long one and now it was ebbing away into the nothing of another brief night. At first the sky changed slowly, the sun burning a deeper hue, its colours seeping into the scattering of clouds. Then the change accelerated, the colours spreading, deepening, flowing through cloud and the darkening sky, ever-changing, drawing Mathias up and away.
A knock at the door brought him back down to the reality he had been trying to forget. He had been expecting them all day, another interview, maybe some more planted evidence that would prove his 'guilt' beyond all reasonable doubt.
The door opened and Greta was standing there.
He wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms as he had at the Dumandee Ball, but instead he held back, feeling suddenly unsure of himself.
The door opened wider and Greta stepped aside to allow the chaperone to follow her into the room. Of course, she would not come to see him alone. Even in this situation—especially in this situation—they had to be watched.
Chaperone leaning on the closed door, Greta moved into the room and sat upright on the edge of the wide bed. Mathias wanted to go to her, but he couldn't move, he couldn't even speak.
'I'm glad they still treat you well, Matti.' She gestured around at the guest-room. 'Your cell is rather splendid.'
Greta's lightness of spirit was one of her most endearing qualities, but it was also one of her most infuriating. If ever an argument had gone against her and Mathias had felt close to winning a point, she would joke and the matter would be closed and Mathias would feel angry and elated at the same time. He felt both those feelings now and he didn't know which was proper.
'You made me very proud, last night,' he said. 'To be dancing with you at the Dumandee Ball. I wanted to show you off to the whole world.' He shrugged and turned away. He was no good at compliments, no matter how truthful they were. 'It wasn't me. You have to believe me: I could never have done anything like that.'
Greta was staring at her hands. 'Everybody saw the two of you arguing,' she said. 'And they say you climbed into your room to avoid detection.'
'You believe them, then?'
'At the Gatherings we are told that belief is total commitment. I do not believe that you... killed the Prime. I simply...'
Mathias stood by the window and watched a gull dipping over the roof-tops. 'How can I earn your total commitment?' he asked. 'What must I do?'
'I don't know, Matti. I'm sorry but I... Things have changed rapidly, since Dumandee. It appears that Edward will be named at least Prime-Designate, until things become more settled. He is working very hard to keep the clan functioning. He has made many friends by his efforts. Faces are changing too rapidly for me to follow. Captain Anderson has risen with Edward; they complement one another. Sala Pedralis is helping smooth the transitional period, too. I don't think she likes Edward, but she is winning back the dissidents and gaining the clan time. Lucilla Ngota has been disgraced. She won't tell me what happened but she has been suspended from all duties and her staff have been redeployed to cope with the crisis. I have tried to comfort her—the Prime's death has hurt her deeply. Matti, what will they do to you?'
Mathias did not like the news. Sala deserting him—going with the flow, as she liked to say—Edward's rapid rise and, worst of all, Greta's doubts and the fact that she chose to comfort Lucilla and not him. 'Just believe in me. Even if only a little. When I'm out of this mess everything else will fall into place. Remember our plans: I will be free again.'
'There have been other changes, too, Matti.' Something in Greta's face made Mathias feel terribly small and vulnerable. 'When father pledged my troth in your name, he did so to bind our two families more closely together. You were going to be Prime one day. He has told me of his own doubts and fears and now he has changed his pledge.
'Matti, I'm so sorry.' She buried her face in her hands as if she wanted to stop the words coming out. 'He has pledged me in the name of Edward Olfarssen-Hanrahan. He signed settlement with Edward's mother this morning. Matti, I'm sorry.'
Mathias was not as surprised as he should have been. In his gut he had known something like this must happen, compounding his loss. He knelt before Greta and took her hand, releasing it in response to their chaperone's soft cough. 'Greta,' he said. 'If I could leave, would you join me?'
'Matti, don't,' she snapped. Then, more softly, she continued, 'My father... he has so much to lose. Matti, you are talking ahead of yourself. You must face the Court: innocence wins through. And guilt...'
She didn't need to finish. Finally Mathias saw that he had lost everything. He should have seen it sooner and saved Greta from having to go through such an ordeal. He rocked back on his heels, then stood. He walked to the window and watched another gull sliding through the darkening sky.
Behind him, he heard Greta rising to her feet, stepping away from the bed. 'Matti,' she said. 'You're very sweet.' He wanted to jump from the window, but it was locked and he doubted he had the strength left in him to break it. 'Matti, I have to go now. I told Edward to meet me at sunset, we have details to discuss. Matti,'—he turned to face her—'goodbye.'
~
Edward. Smiling, laughing, pawing at Greta's breasts. Pulling heavy-duty cables tight around her delicate neck. Pulling them tighter, making her face turn blue and her eyes bug out but she was enjoying it, Mathias knew she was enjoying it and that this was what she had wanted all along. He wanted to get to them, to pull them apart, to carry Greta away from his half-brother, convince her that she wanted only him. He struggled to move, but hands gripped his arms, pulled at him, shook him as he watched his love slipping away, strangled by those ancient black leads. Still the hands gripped him, shook him and a voice came across the grey wastes: 'Mathias. Please. We have little time.'
He woke and rolled on to his back. He opened his eyes and there was a faint light in the room and the face of Sala Pedralis floating close to his own. 'Sala. What is it?'
He shrugged off the last vestiges of sleep and realised that he had suddenly left everything behind. His grief, his anger, it was all gone. From now onwards he had to look out for himself.
'Come on, Mathias. We have little time.'
He remembered Greta's summary of events beyond the guest-room walls and said, 'So it's your turn to question me now, is it? I have no more to tell.'
Sala looked hurt and he added, 'I was told you had changed your allegiance. I was told you were helping Edward secure his throne.'
'I am securing Newest Delhi, not Olfarssen. Violent currents have been flowing since the loss of the Prime. Sects and clans fight openly in the streets. If they are not controlled then everything will be chaos. I can only do what I can. But that does not mean I like it. Come on. I have transport arranged.' She opened the door. 'Or will you stay here and let Olfarssen take it all?'
Mathias followed her out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Two guards stood in the corridor, both staring studiously at the wall. Their gazes barely flickered as Mathias passed by.
As they walked quickly through the corridors and across the Manse gardens, Mathias kept expecting to hear voices raised in pursuit, but the night remained still. The guards at the main gate stared right through Mathias, choosing not to see him, and then he was out in the Playa Cruzo, believing at last in what was happening.
'Come on,' said Sala. 'You're not clear yet.'
The streets they followed were empty and it was not long before Mathias realised they were heading for the docks. It made sense: a boat would not have to pass through the unsettled back country where the clans would be at their strongest and Mathias might be recognised by citizens mourning the loss of their Prime.
As they climbed the steps inside West Wall, Mathias thought of his grandfather. He had never heard much of the story, except that the disgraced Prime had fled Newest Delhi under cover of the night, much as Mathias was doing now. There had been some sort of scandal and his grandfather had fled in an old shuttle, restored in secret in case it should ever be needed. But the scandal had been so great, or the escape so hasty, that the shuttle had been struck down from the skies, ending, finally, the influence of the old ways. Tonight Mathias was fleeing, but there the resemblance ended; he did not expect to be struck down in the sea, he just wanted to be free from all that had happened. March had done well to retain control under the circumstances of his father's demise; he had managed to keep tight rein on the excesses of the transition. Any excesses March had inherited from his father had long been suppressed. As Mathias's feet crunched along the upper reaches of the beach, he felt a sudden affinity with the grandfather he had never met.
Sala stopped ahead of him on the jetty, the dark shape of a barge just visible over her shoulder. She stepped towards Mathias and embraced him. 'I'll pray for you,' she said. 'Maybe someone will hear.'
'Edward will pay for this,' said Mathias. It was a wish more than a threat.
'Edward? You think he killed the Prime? Maybe, but I don't think he would have it in him, he's just capitalising on it. My guess is that one of the clans is responsible. They will make their move on Newest Delhi soon enough and then we will know.'
She released him and nodded at the barge. 'Idi Mondata arranged the boat through his Krishna friends. It will take you to Orlyons, out of Edward's reach. Mathias, you are like a son to me, or a brother... I don't know. I'll clear your name, somehow. I'll find out who killed your father and then you will be free to do what you wish. Mathias, look after yourself. Don't be bitter.'
Mathias turned away, confused again. Things should not be like this. A hand reached out to help him on to the boat but he shrugged it off and stepped aboard, clambering over a pile of rope and feeling in his bones the rhythmic beat of the vessel's meth manoeuvring engines. He turned to wave but Sala had vanished. He wondered if he would ever see her again.
As the engines quickened Mathias settled down in the aft cargo hold and tried to get comfortable. He released a long-held breath and slowly the barge edged away from the dock, away from Newest Delhi and into the darkness of night.