Debris

"Earlier we get there, earlier we can leave. Isn't that what you want?"

I shrugged, and allowed him to fit the jacket over my shoulders. What did I care how I looked for these mysterious friends? That was Devich's concern.

We found a landau so quickly I suspected it had been waiting. Maybe Devich had known I would give into him. I was making a habit of it. Again, we rolled into the centre of the city. But this time we passed the grand manors and continued deeper, to the tightness of buildings at the edge of the bridge.

"Where is this gathering?" I asked, voice frosting the coach window.

"We'll be there soon."

I scowled at Devich lounging in the seat opposite. His shoulder was out of its bandage, although still stiff. "Not an answer."

He laughed. "You wouldn't know the place, Tanyana. So it's not going to make any difference."

Finally, the coach drew to a halt in a dark alley. I stepped out onto cold and slippery stones, but refused Devich's hand. Buildings towered over us like a forest of dull windows and gargoyle heads. I shivered. These buildings were not constructed of cement and bricks. Sandstone and slate, old handprints and chiselled initials. Older than the revolution, these were. Like Proud Sunlight yet darker, somehow. Where my university had the Keeper inscribed into its every corner, this place seemed to prefer the Other. The grotesque instead of the beautiful.

"What is this place?" I whispered to the dark night. Lamps shone at the end of the alley, but no light disturbed the ancient stone.

Devich swung himself up to the driver and said something I couldn't hear into the man's ear. The driver nodded, and directed the coach to the end of the alleyway. There, he lowered the coach to the street, and relocated to the cabin itself. Waiting again.

"Excited?" Devich hooked his elbow gingerly into my arm. Fearing for his shoulder, I didn't pull away.

"Should I be?"

With a grin, Devich led me to the shadow of a wide awning. He knocked with a large, oval metallic knocker. I looked up as the sound echoed. More gargoyles hunched over the door, stone eyes watching me. The door opened, light burst from the room beyond like a prisoner desperate to run.

I recognised the servant in the doorway, though he was not wearing gold this time. He nodded to Devich and me, and stepped back to let us through.

"Devich?" I hissed as we marched down a long corridor. "What's going on?"

We entered a warm room, redolent of smoke. Even though the lights brightening the walls were obviously pion-generated, a fire had been lit in an ornate fireplace of dark stone, mounted by more gargoyles. Candlelight danced above wooden tabletops, with iron embellishments on the corners and long benches. The room was full of faces I knew. Old men, all of them. The veche inspector. The debris enthusiasts. Not dressed this time in their finest suits, but in strange, dark cloaks tied at the waists. The whole setting made me shiver. There was something so wrong about the mixture of pion-generated light and flame, about these ancient, wealthy men dressed so strangely.

And I didn't want to be left in the middle of it.

"My dear." Vladir Sporinov extricated himself from the small throng and approached me, hands outstretched. "You made it here. We are so glad."

I forced myself to smile at their soft, general murmur of approval.

"See." Devich slipped his arm from mine with a level of dexterity he had not been able to show until now, and nudged me a few steps forward.

"And I heard you saved our young Devich here."

A round of applause broke out. The circle was tightening, the faces menacing in their closeness.

"Yes," I answered, suddenly hot beneath clothing and uniform.

"Good choice. A wonderful young man to, ah, save."

I blushed in the wake of indulgent laughter.

Then it started up again. The questioning. Was it tiring, such constant collecting? How did I coat myself in silver like that? Where did I find the strength to lift a man from the rubble and carry him to safety?

I deflected as best I could, answered the easy ones, and wondered why they were all here again, questioning me. How did they know so many details? Had Devich told them everything he could remember, or had they been there too, watching, like the Other-blasted puppet men had done? Where had Devich gone? He'd evaporated into the sea of dim light and weathered faces.

One old man wrapped a hand around my upper arm. "Did it hurt?" he whispered, voice grating. "When the debris picked you up. When it knocked you back. Did it hurt?" He leaned forward, mouth slightly open, as though he would suck in my answer like air.

"Y-yes," I floundered. Had I told Devich about that? Had he seen it, in his half-sighted pion-binder way? I couldn't remember, I just didn't know.

"But your suit helped you, did it?"

My suit? It had, yes, and it had done so almost on its own. How could he know that, this old binder?

"Came to the rescue? Worked well?"

Vladir unwrapped the old man from my arm, one strong, resisting finger at a time. "Come now, Kadjat, not too hard. Let's be nice to the dear collector while we can."

Kadjat hesitated for a moment, before breaking into a grin. "Oh, yes."

I found myself shivering as Vladir led him away, flushing hot and cold in the close room. More eyes, so close, more hands. Someone stroked the suit around my neck. I flinched away, and the chuckling rose again.

"Did you feel strong?"

"Did it feel good?"

"What did it feel like, that suit all over you? Warm? Nice? Or did it hurt?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Did it hurt?"

"Why do you care?" Finally, I shouted at them, hearing terror in my voice I couldn't control. These ancient faces, this taste for pain, was far more frightening than planes of debris that could throw a building from its foundations. This was twisted; this was cruel.

It reminded me of the puppet men.

"We're just interested in your progress, dear girl." One of the old men, tall and thin, most of his body hidden in his strange clothes, stepped out of their circle. "We have a lot invested in you."

"A lot?" I sharpened my gaze on him. "You're all part of this, aren't you? You and the puppet men." They laughed at that. My pulse quickened, I could feel its pressure in my head. "Worked well? Other damn you! You don't need me to tell you about the suit, you know about the suit. Why are you doing this? What is going on?"

"Now, now." The veche inspector, again. His face creased like worn leather as he smiled an impish smile. The same look he had given me at Grandeur's construction site, on the day of her fall. "You should be proud, little girl. It was an honour to be chosen. To secure Varsnia's future."

I could feel the suit in my veins, feel it surge hot like my anger. As I tightened my hands into fists I was certain the symbols would be spinning faster, glowing stronger, ready to work with me, ready to show these men how powerful I was, how wrong they were, how little I cared for their honour. Varsnia could go to all the Other's own hells.

"Was it you?" I asked between gritted teeth. "You had no other reason to be there. Did you knock me from Grandeur? Did you set this up from the beginning?"

Then Devich reappeared. He stepped out of shadow, face blank, closed, guarded.

"Time?" He reached for my hand and I snatched it away.

"Answer me!" I shouted at the old men, turning to face them all, and found Vladir right behind my shoulder.

"Going already?" His smile was reasonable, a terrible mask surrounded by hunger.

"No! Answer me, I deserve answers."

Devich reached for me again, this time clamping his hand around my elbow and holding harder than I could have believed. "The debris collector is tired." His voice was as empty as his face. "She has had another long day."