Chapter 7: 6 – The Squeaky Lass

Rhian

 

The weeks changed but nothing else did.

Bows were drawn. Arrows flew. Partisans squealed.

“Relax your arms,” I shouted. Some listened, some didn’t.

Round two, three, four, five.

Some would come crying the next day with welts the size of their fists.

Round six, seven, eight.

“Look, if at least two of you can go ahead and hit the goddess-be-damned target, I’ll dismiss the lot of you for the afternoon.”

Round nine, ten, thunk.

Round eleven, twelve, thunk, thunk, thunk.

“Congratulations, you’re all suckers. People are gonna bribe you. People are gonna trick you. Hit the target because it’s your job to hit the bloody target, follow?”

There were five twelve-year-old, grey-eyed Strachan all together. There were blondes, redheads, two boys, three girls—but what does it really matter? They were all disappointed they wouldn't be getting out early.

Look, it wasn’t on me to be liked. It was on me to do my damnedest so they wouldn’t grow up to do something stupid and die.

Besides, I gave them their prize once they learned to fight for something they thought they lost.

Round fifteen, four of five targets hit.

I’d have to work on the one with the lazy eye.

After the little ones ran away from the range joyously and whatnot, I knew I'd have a bigger problem to deal with.

It wasn’t as though the bigger problem appeared out of nowhere. More like, I’d been ignoring her for the past five minutes. Councilwoman Adelaide Blanchett. She wasn’t the worst of the lot, let me be clear about that. But we had a history, and it was a messy one. Also, she hurt my eyes. What, with the bright purple dress and hair like a goddess-be-damned forest fire.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I was preparing the next generation to follow your orders for the rest of their sorry lives.” It was true, but she was probably referring to the fact I let the kids out early.

Councilwoman Blanchett turned her nose up at me. No big feat—she was tall, I’m short. At least she kept it clean. Meanwhile, I stared down the lass in a leather apron beside her. She was about sixteen and a dead ringer, only she was grinning ear to ear.

“I have not come to argue politics with you, Enforcer,” the Councilwoman said.

Then I reckon I said something like, “Splendid. Why’d you start?”

Whatever it was, the lass in the leather apron giggled and the Councilwoman clucked like a chicken in my imagination.

“I’ve come to introduce you to my daughter, Adeline.”

The one called Adeline squeaked. Reckon she meant, “Hello.”

“Right,” I said. “I feel my life changing. Now, how about you start telling me what this is actually about?”

“It is the Assembly’s indubitably supreme and utterly urgent request that Adeline join you for your lessons henceforth, forthwith, and so on, and so help me," is not exactly how it went, but it’ll do.

“Uh,” I replied, on account of I could be eloquent also. “What for?”

“I will let the Squeaky Lass explain,” the Councilwoman sort of said.

Then she was gone, and I was left alone on the range with a smile that was getting on my tits.

It was quiet until it was uncomfortable.

“So, I’m Rhian. And are you all right, lass?”

“I’m aware who you are, and truly, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Uh huh.” Clearly, the lass wasn’t all right. “Why are you here?”

“To assist with your lessons, and while it should only be for about three weeks, I sincerely hope we’ll learn to be friends. Is it true you saved my mother’s life?”

“Why. Are. You. Here?” Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough. Sometimes I wasn’t clear enough on account of poor elocution and whatnot.

“Why? Well, to train the children with black powder of course.”

---

After hearing the terrible news, I marched straight southeast across the grassy range in the direction of the Strachan spire. Which is exactly what it sounds like—a spire full of Strachan. I’d wager I scowled the whole way up all five flights of stairs.

It took about a minute.

Fire-weapons? Horse-shite. The perfect weapon for any half-wit with funny ideas and a pair of fingers. I’d seen the effects of fire-weapons in Delphia (another territory, for all you rock-people), and I couldn’t help thinking of a thousand new ways I might meet my maker. One cranky innkeeper and a bad day later, boom, afore you know it, you’re dead and having your head mounted on a wall. No amount of Palisade training would save my freckled arse then.

After darting up the stairs, I barged into the Councilwoman’s office faster than her secretary could look up from twiddling her thumbs.

“Weapons integration with Blanchett’s spawn? Not happening.”

Councilwoman Kelly never seemed to mind about the barging on account of she was a reasonable lady. She leaned back in her chair and kicked a leg up on her desk. I liked her office, all done up in wood and green.

I liked her office, but I sure as shite didn’t want it.

“We can’t contain progress to Palisade,” she said.

“Then I’ll have no part."

“You’ve got no choice.”

“Truer words.”

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Kelly sighed, nudging her head for me to have a seat. I did.

“Look, Rhian, progress means production. Production means exposure. Exposure means Old Man What’s-His-Nuts blows up Joe Partisan because it sounds like a bloody good time. The Assembly reckons it’s too late to outlaw the weapons now that the Barrens know they exist. Think smugglers, extremists, martyrs—a whole new brand of Barren and Partisan rebels with a steel-barreled leg to stand on. We can’t beat them, so we join them.”

“Then why keep me landlocked? Put us on the job instead and we can sabotage production. Reckon me and Gus could run an operation to sniff out the worst of it. Cut the suppliers, slow it down a wee bit.”

“Aye, I hear you. Except there’s basically zero chance of that happening. And even if I could sway the Assembly, Finlay’s out on a job—can’t say for sure how long.”

I’d been alive just about two decades. I could count the times me and Gus had been split up, and it’d take about a second.

“What? Where?”

“Amalia. Something to do with Faust’s new pet priest.”

“What? Why? And when did we start helping Faust?”

“When keeping you and Finlay landlocked together was costing me more than I could afford. It was Amalia or Endica for him. What would you have done?”

As I said, not a single sane Partisan had much to say for certain about Amalia. We’d all heard the stories. Beasts as big as houses. Rock-slides, mudslides, and trees with roots that’ll eat you. Giant sinkholes, giant arseholes. Some are lies. But Endica? It was basically war. It was the uncertain versus the certain and neither was a brilliant place to be.

Gus would have more fun with the trees.

“Fine,” I said. “Why have I not gone with him?"

“Malicious intent, arson, destruction of Palisade property, fraud…”

So, I might have been charged with all of those things, all at once.

But it was for the best.

And I didn’t exactly do most of it.

---

I was bored.

It’s not like I was the sentimental sort, but a person gets used to certain things after a while. It was Fifth-day, and Fifth-day was Catch-Up-With-Michael day. But seeing as Michael was about to be shipped off to Endica, and Feargus was off helping Strauss pick the grit out of his navel, I was on my own after leaving Kelly's office. Which would have been fine if I’d had anything interesting to do. I could have gone down to the mess hall to watch people eat supper, but I only had to go down one flight of stairs to get to my dorm.

See, Palisade was designed to look a bit like the rest of the world. One big compound in the middle, six directions with six spires designed for six breeds. Each with—you guessed it, you terrific genius—six floors.

The first floor was for all the impractical whatnots like lecture halls and libraries. I’m sure they were lovely. The second was for the fresh Partisans and the non-violent special cases. The third floor was for those in training, the fourth for those in active duty. The fifth floor was for the ones who’d seen enough to deserve a nice view and a fatal fall. Those dorms were bigger and the folks living in them didn’t get bunkmates.

I lived on the fifth. Gus lived in the room on the left of mine, and I couldn’t be bothered to meet the person on the right. That dorm was cursed. There was a new occupant about ten times a year, so there was no sense making nice.

That night, I raided the snacks I kept stashed with a bottle of Hocks. I played darts against myself and we tied, tossed knives up at the rafters until I got tired of pulling them out, went for a wee, and answered the door when there was a knock.

For the fun of it, I saluted—fist to heart. “Commander, Sir, Michael, Sir.”

“Good to see you’re still alive.”

“No big surprise. I haven’t exactly been active lately.”

“I know, but I couldn’t think of any other reason you’d miss out on an evening with me.”

Good old Michael. The man had an excellent smile. It worked for him on account of he was otherwise ordinary. Taller than the average Amali but shorter than the tallest. His hair was brown and boring when it wasn’t just stubble. Everything in its proper place, like one of those man-sized dolls.

“Imagined you’d have your hands full getting ready.”

Michael shrugged, and then he walked right in and made himself comfortable on the corner of the bed. I sat cross-legged on the floor looking up.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he said. “I couldn’t very well deploy without rubbing my favourite Strachan for luck.”

That was a superstition. Not an innuendo. Dirty bastards.

“Reckon you’ll be out long?” The truth is, there was no way of knowing if he’d be back at all. I was being polite.

“No idea. Kelly’s been sending scouts but we’re not getting anything back.”

“She ought to stop sending them, then.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re walking blind into a snowstorm. Literally. It’s so fucking cold up there, Rhian—never go. Anyway, I hear Councilwoman Hall petitioned for Finlay’s help.”

“Gus is gone.”

“Really? I’m surprised Kelly agreed. He’s an expensive asset.”

“Gus is gone to Amalia to be with Strauss.”

“Oh, that’s strange. What’s he doing with Strauss?”

“Uncovering the meaning of life? Helping him find his personality?”

“I like the second one.”

“Me, too. Wish I’d thought of it first.”

Michael smiled and there was a pause. The kind of pause that’s a bit awkward, but a lot comfortable—seeing as we were old friends and all. It was the pause before a favour.

“Any chance I could stay here tonight?” he asked.

There was a chance. I understood.

“Too quiet in yours?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Aye,” I said.

And that was that.

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