The consequence girl, p.1
The Consequence Girl, page 1
Also from
Alastair Chisholm
For Younger Readers:
Dragon Storm: Tomas and Ironskin
Dragon Storm: Cara and Silverthief
Dragon Storm: Ellis and Pathseeker
Dragon Storm: Mira and Flameteller
For Mum and Dad, who showed me we can
always make the world a little better.
A.C.
We have it in our power to begin the world over again.
Thomas Paine
Whorley’s day was going pretty well, until Lilith walked in.
He’d spent the morning in the markets of Sheen, under the vast steel crossbeams of the main chamber. He’d chatted, joked, tasted samples and slapped his large belly cheerfully before moving on. Nothing important, just seeing, and being seen. Whorley was a fixer – someone who could help with whatever you wanted, for a very reasonable price. So he made sure people remembered him, and were pleased to see him. It was easy, really; Whorley liked people, and he liked to help.
For a very reasonable price.
And then later he’d wandered back to the bar he owned, eaten a light lunch and read the report from his agents about a business venture that had taken place that morning. The results were everything he’d hoped. Yes, it had been a good day.
But that was Lilith for you. Lilith tended to happen to people who had been, up to that point, having a good day.
She strode in while he was finishing and sat down heavily in a chair across from him. The table rocked, and drops spilled from his glass.
“Whorley, you pig, you get greedier every day,” she said without smiling. “How come you’re not dead?”
Whorley sighed, but only on the inside. On the surface, he smiled as if Lilith was the person he’d hoped to see most in all the world. “Apple schnapps, my dear,” he said amiably. “The apples are healthy.”
He waved towards the bar, and Shaff, the barman – who had been lurking with one hand under the counter – relaxed and brought a bottle across. Whorley poured Lilith a glass.
“And you?” he asked. “Still a crazy troublemaker, are we? Cheers.”
He raised his glass and examined her as he sipped.
Lilith was tall, almost two metres in her thick red-soled boots, with wide powerful shoulders. She wore a maroon leather jacket with plates of blast-proof steel sewn into it, and leather leggings. Whorley couldn’t see it, but he knew she kept a small, vicious crossbow in a holster behind her back. An old scar curved down the left side of her head, a gleaming pale line against her dark skin and short brown hair.
“You’re looking well,” he said lightly. (This was a lie. She was sitting stiffly, at an angle, and Whorley suspected her side was injured. And she looked tired.) “What can I do for you?”
Lilith didn’t drink the schnapps. She gazed into the glass.
“Anything going on, Whorley?” she asked quietly.
Whorley spread his hands and grinned. “You know me, always busy. Why, are you looking for work?”
She shook her head. “No. Anything in Base? This morning?”
Whorley frowned. “You know I can’t discuss my … business operations,” he said. “My clients expect discretion.”
Lilith looked out of one of the bar’s small windows. It didn’t point outside, of course – property on the outer shell of Sheen was far too expensive – but showed the inner balcony, and the people bustling past.
“There was a hit this morning,” she said. “An item was taken. I want it back.”
“You think I took it?”
Lilith shrugged. “There were several agents involved. They had equipment. They were careful. It had your style.” Her left foot was tapping against the table. Tap-tap-tap, like a nervous tic.
Whorley sighed.
“No,” he said. “My people were in Sheen this morning. On a… Well, a mission. We don’t need the details. But not Base.”
He leaned back. “Whatever you lost, it wasn’t me. Sorry.”
She turned back from the window and stared at him for a long time. Then she nodded.
“I see.”
Whorley frowned. “What was it – something of yours?”
“Something I was guarding.” Her head dropped. She was exhausted, Whorley thought. He wondered how bad the injury to her side was. “For the Reverents.”
“Oh, Lilith!” Whorley snorted. “I’ve told you not to work for religious types; they never pay!” He shook his head. “Come and work for me again. I’ll give you a good rate. You and Anish too. I like him. You two still together?”
Lilith shrugged.
“Really,” said Whorley, relaxing now. “Those people, they make you as crazy as them. Look at you. You get hit – all right, it happens – but then you barge in on me? Like you don’t have enough problems? I’ve got three guards watching this place right now. You could have been killed!”
He raised his glass. “Come on. It’s just a job. Drink.”
“Yes,” she said. Her shoulders seemed to unknot, and she picked up the glass. “Yes.”
“To the Lady Nostic and the Glories,” he intoned, and drank.
Lilith was still looking at her glass. “Four,” she said, at last.
“What?”
“You had four guards.”
He didn’t even see her hand move. Didn’t see the thick-bottomed glass as it flew towards him, was only vaguely aware at first when it hit him right between his eyes with a thunk. He spun back over his chair and crashed to the ground, and before he could even cry out she was crouched over him, her small crossbow in one hand, ready to fire.
“You had four guards,” she spat. “One at the entrance. Two on the balcony. One on deck eleven. You had four, now you have none, understand?”
Whorley made a sound like a thin, whistling wail. She knelt on his chest, crushing him.
“I want it back,” she hissed. “No lies, no games, just you and me and this –” she waved the crossbow “– and I want it back.”
“Lilith … please,” he gasped. “You’re wrong, I swear. I wouldn’t do that!” He thought one of his ribs had broken. He couldn’t stop blinking. He could smell fermented apples and blood. “I love you guys! You and Anish, you’re my—”
“Anish is dead!” she shouted. “He was killed this morning, in your raid!”
Whorley stared up at her in genuine horror. Oh no, he thought. Oh, she’s really going to kill me.
Lilith glared at Shaff the barman, who was shuffling towards them and holding a club uncertainly.
“Put it down,” she ordered. “Bring the item.” Her tone was expressionless, but Whorley saw a pulse beating hard against her temple, and a thin trickle of blood at the bottom of her jacket. The wound in her side had opened.
Shaff hesitated. Lilith knelt harder, and Whorley felt a new shard of pain against his heart. Yes, one rib definitely broken. He waved feebly. “Go,” he wheezed. “Go.”
The barman hurried through to the back. Whorley closed his eyes. “You’re crazy,” he muttered. “This is crazy.”
Lilith said nothing.
“They said it was a clean job,” he whispered. “I thought it was clean. I didn’t know about Anish—”
She shifted her knee against him and he groaned.
Shaff returned with a rectangular box half a metre wide and deep and a little longer, carrying it by a handle on the top. He put it down and stepped back. Lilith stood and peered inside.
The box was lined with fur. Inside, wrapped in a blanket, was a sleeping baby, with pale fawn skin and a short crop of straight black hair. One hand was outside the blanket, fingers curled.
Lilith picked up the box.
“What are you going to do with it?” gasped Whorley. She ignored him. “You know what it is? What they say about it? You can’t give it back to the Reverents, Lilith!”
“I’m not giving it to them,” she said.
“To Protection?” He coughed. “That’s who I’m selling it to! You could just leave it with me. I can give you a cut—”
“Not Protection.”
“But… But who, then?”
Lilith put the little crossbow back into its holster and walked towards the entrance with the box.
“Goodbye, Whorley.”
Whorley stared in astonishment. Was she letting him live? What was going on? The pain in his ribs was vicious, but he tried to ignore it a little longer.
“Lilith, wait! Anish—”
She turned, her face dark with something he didn’t want to know.
“I never meant…” He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment he thought she was going to shoot him right there. But eventually she sighed and checked her watch.
“Seven minutes,” she said.
“Till what?”
“Till the people you thought you were selling to come to kill you.”
“What? They’re not coming to kill me.” Whorley shook his head, more in confusion than denial. “I got it for them. It’s just a deal.”
Lilith shrugged. “That’s not the deal they made.”
She left with the package. He watched her go in a daze, and groaned as he sat up.
“You all right, boss?” asked Shaff.
Whorley found the strength to slap the barman about the head. “Of course not, you cretin.” He closed his eyes. Lilith was wrong. He had a deal – just business, same as every other time. She had to be wrong.
“Boss?”
“Help me stand,” he muttered. S haff lifted him up, and Whorley tried not to scream as his ribs protested.
“I think…” he said, when he could speak again, “I think we should go out the back.”
Lilith went down three levels and into a hidden recess. She discarded the box and used the blanket to fasten the baby girl to her back, wincing as she tied it tight. Then she climbed down a long access ladder to a hatch that led her out of Sheen, and on to the ground.
Seven minutes after she left, a team of Protection troops raided Whorley’s bar with orders to retrieve a package and destroy everything and anyone else they found.
A few days later, a figure in a plain brown jacket and jeans limped through the tiny settlement of Recon, before following a faint track up into the mountains. One or two people in Recon watched her as she entered the settlement, but when they saw the expression on her face they turned away until she had passed, and if they noticed the sling on her back, they never mentioned it to anyone.
Thirteen
Years
Later
The light was turning as Cora reached the east side of the mountain, and there was already a hint of dusk. It was a cold light, and it leached the colour from the world, leaving the trees black and the ground white, and pinching her hands and face.
She followed the stream to a point where three faint rabbit tracks met, where she had set a snare the previous day. It lay undisturbed. Blast, she thought, but said nothing. She checked the loop and moved it further into the path of the tracks. Four traps and nothing so far. She’d hoped to stock up, but at this rate they’d be eating into their supplies. She stuffed her hands into her jacket and made her way along a snow-clad ridge to the last two spots.
The world was silent. Birds huddled quietly on their branches, small animals stayed in their burrows, and the cabin where Cora lived was the only one occupied for kilometres around. Most people preferred to stay in Recon, far below and on the other side of the hill. It was a hard climb to the ridge, through snow, and when she reached the top Cora stopped to catch her breath and looked down at the settlement.
She could see the Recon Tower, a hexagonal column with large windows, and smaller buildings huddled around its base as if for protection. The tower was built of the same almost indestructible material as everything else the Glories had left behind, and despite being ancient it shone newer and cleaner than its neighbours.
On one side of the tower, the loading bay was stacked high with tree trunks, ready for delivery to the cities of Sheen and Base. She could make out the faint outlines of more buildings, perhaps even a little wood smoke from their chimneys, but she was too far away to see any people. She watched for a while, and then turned and trudged to the next snare.
Here at last was something; a small and rather scrawny rabbit with one leg caught in the loop. It lurched as she arrived, trying to escape, but then collapsed, exhausted. Cora looked around for a rock. Seleen could dispatch them with her bare hands, breaking their necks in one sharp tug, but Cora wasn’t strong enough, and anyway, she found it too upsetting. The rock was brutal but quicker. Grimacing, she killed it quickly, unwound the sticky wire from its body, packed it into her bag and reset the trap. There was dinner, at least. She headed down to the last trap, but knew there was something wrong even before she reached it. There was no catch, but the ground was churned up – and the snare was gone.
“Blast!” This time she swore out loud, and two birds above her flapped away, cawing indignantly. Losing a rabbit was bad; losing wire was really bad. Seleen would be furious. The stake was still there, wedged firmly into the ground. What had happened? Was it another predator? A wolf? That would be worst of all.
The sun was slipping past the edge of the ridge now. Cora looked around cautiously. She was alone, of course. Seleen was back at the cabin. Cora hesitated. Then she sat on her haunches and made herself relax, gazing at the stake. The stake was here. The snare was gone. She closed her eyes, let her focus drift … and looked.
She saw the stake in her mind, surrounded by a weak shimmer like a heat haze. As she drifted closer, the shimmer became a faint blue trail, as if the stake was moving while sitting still. She followed the trail backwards in time.
In her mind, the stake trembled. It was a few hours ago, and something was pulling at it. What? The stake was being dragged by its snare, which in turn was being pulled by a large rabbit, caught but furiously heaving away. The rabbit tugged and tugged, and suddenly the wire slipped off its stake, and the rabbit ran, dragging the snare behind.
The wire had slipped. The wire had slipped because…
She saw herself setting up the trap. Her hands were cold and sore, and her face was tired. Cora watched this other, earlier version of herself wind the wire into a loop, fasten it, attach it to the stake, wrap it once…
In her mind she heard an owl shriek, and the earlier Cora looked up, then finished wrapping the cable. But she was distracted and keen to get home, and she forgot to thread it through the hole in the stake.
There.
Cora opened her eyes again and waited until her focus came back. There was always a short feeling of disorientation after she looked, and a dull red throb behind her eyes. She groaned.
Not a wolf then, at least. But it was her fault; she hadn’t fastened the snare properly, and now it was lost. Cora examined the stake. She could fix it, perhaps. It had happened less than a day ago. I could fix it…
She sighed. No. Seleen had a way of finding these things out. It wasn’t worth it, not even for a snare.
* * *
Cora returned to their cabin. It sat squat under a wide camouflage net that spread across the hillside, woven with creeping ivy and fresh leafy branches. It was almost invisible, even up close, and she approached it from a different direction each time, automatically glancing around before entering.
Seleen was outside, under the net, working on the power unit. Cora always crept the last stretch, but had never been able to sneak up without being spotted. This time she was twelve metres away when Seleen, without lifting her head out of the unit, said, “You’re back early.”
Cora shrugged. “Most of them were empty. One catch.”
Seleen grunted, still under the cover.
Cora said, “And we lost a snare as well.”
Seleen stood up straight and studied her.
Seleen was tall, and looked strong enough to wrestle bears. She ran a hand through her silvered brown locs, revealing an old scar on the side of her head. When Cora was younger, Seleen used to tell her she’d got the scar fighting a giant robot, and Cora had believed her. These days she was sure it wasn’t true, of course. Fairly sure.
“How?” Seleen asked.
“Pulled loose.”
Seleen frowned. “By what? A wolf? Did you check for wolf tracks?”
“No, a rabbit. It was just—”
“A rabbit can’t pull one of those snares.” Seleen scanned the hillside, thinking. “If it’s a wolf then it might try to raid.”
“It was just a rabbit, OK?” said Cora irritably. “I didn’t fasten the snare properly.”
Seleen gave her a hard look. “Hmmm. You’re sure?”
Shrug. “Yes.”
“Really sure?”
“Yes!”
There was a pause. Then… “How are you sure, Cora?”
Cora started. Blastblastblast!
“Did you look?” asked Seleen.
Cora didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Seleen slammed the power unit cover down with a clatter.
“What’s the Rule?” she demanded. Cora stared at the ground. “Cora? What’s the Rule?”
Cora muttered, “I Mustn’t Look.”
“You Mustn’t Look. And why not?”
“Because It’s Dangerous.”
“Because it’s dangerous. Because you can do more harm than you think.”
“I don’t see how!” Cora, thin and small, faced up to her. “It’s only looking. I didn’t change anything! I could have fixed it so we didn’t lose the snare—”
“No, you couldn’t,” snapped Seleen, “because that would have been really stupid.” She was angry now. “You know how you could have not lost the snare?”
“Yes, by—”
“By fastening it properly! What have I told you? No do-overs in this life, understand? No second chances! When you mess up, there are consequences.”
