“Thank you my dear,” he said. “Forgive my ignorance, I thought Rangers always travelled in pairs.”
“We do. I lost my partner recently.”
“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” said Fiddler. “You’re a long way from home. Lundun is a terrible place, full of dangers. May I offer to escort you out of the city?”
“No, that’s quite alright… thank you. Why is it you’re in the underground again?”
“I got a tip off that Loma was in Lundun. I’ve been searching for two days on the surface, I thought I might as well try the underground for a few hours, hoping for a miracle really. Now I’m a little lost.”
They stood facing one another in awkward silence. She did not know what to make of the strange traveller. His appearance was unsettling. But he had a gentleness in his movements and in his speech.
“Take off the mask,” she said
“Oh I’d really rather not.”
“I need to make sure you’re human.”
“Well – don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
With trembling hands Fiddler removed his helmet and placed it on the ground. Then he pulled off the white mask with thumb and forefinger.
He had deep scars running over his face. They cracked his lips and bit into his eyebrow, his forehead, going up into his scalp, dividing his hairline. He was much younger-looking than she imagined, though his hair was white and he had a weak beard that was greying. She noticed that one of the scars started at his jawline and continued gruesomely down his neck, obscured by his clothes. He looked down timidly. His pale blue eyes watering. He was human.
Alana holstered her pistol.
“Well—” she said. “I’m heading for the next station. You’re welcome to follow my light if you’d like.”
“Oh, that would be most helpful,” said Fiddler, as he put on his mask and helmet. They walked for a while in silence.
“What country are you from?” she asked. “You don’t sound foreign.”
“I am from Avalon. I’m afraid I lost my accent many years ago. I’ve been stranded here for nearly two decades.”
“Two decades,” said Alana, incredulous. “Why can’t you just get a boat and sail there?”
“I am not a good sailor. I was but a simple soldier. I do not know the co-ordinates of the city. Besides, it is cloaked.”
“Cloaked?”
“Yes, near impossible to detect by the naked eye.”
They spoke a while about Avalon. Fiddler put her at ease with anecdotes of his youth, full of gentle comedy and interesting turns of phrase. He was a good storyteller. She told him about her life in the Ranger Kor, leaving out the last week or so. Fiddler listened with genuine interest.
“You must be homesick, after 20 years,” said Alana. Fiddler stopped.
“Yes,” he said in a trembling voice, then continued walking. “Very much so. I haven’t seen my family, my wife since I was a young man. She’s probably re-married, I wouldn’t blame her, they must think I’m dead. I feel like Odysseus sometimes. Still – I would like to see her face one more time before I die.”
“She might have stayed… single,” said Alana.
“Perhaps,” he mused. “But it is not our custom to mourn perpetually. If I had truly died, I would have wished her to be happy. Not be some wailing widow for the rest of her life. Still, it will be hard to see her with another – if I return. I love her. I feel I shall always love her, one cannot choose such things, more’s the pity. Even if she stayed ‘true’ though, no woman dreams of a disfigured husband.”
“I think women don’t care about that as much as men,” said Alana.
“Would that it were true in Avalon,” said Fiddler, jovially. Alana smiled. “It’s possible. And I would love nothing more than to continue my life as if nothing had happened.” he sighed. “But I feel life is not that kind. I feel it’s the bachelor’s life for me, unrequited love and all that,” he sighed “I will endure it.”
“I don’t like that. In partners I mean. No offence.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just feel – I’ve never been in love. I don’t really believe in it to be honest. But if you really loved someone, wouldn’t you try everything to be with them? Like: ‘fuck the rules, fuck everyone else. I love you.’”
“Well – for me… Love means wanting someone to be happy. Even if it that entails leaving them. Even if it pains you. They’re more important.” They walked in silence for a moment. “But I am an old fool. Perhaps it’s not in your best interest to take advice from a man who has been marooned for 20 years.”
Alana laughed politely.
They found the station, climbed up to the platform and ascended the stairs. When they reached the surface, and the setting sun poured heat and light onto them, Alana handed back Fiddler’s weapons.
“Thank you,” said Fiddler “It was refreshing to walk unburdened by them. Just out of interest; that holodisk you hold. Where did you get it?”
Alana froze. “I bought it from a trader. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just, you probably don’t realise; these are only manufactured in Avalon. They’re very rare. Where did you get it? It could be a useful clue.”
“Oh I – got it in Moortown.”
“Did you really?”
“Yes.”
“When was this?”
“A few days ago.”
“I thought you said you had been in Lundun for some time.”
Alana’s mind raced.
“I have, yeah you’re right, must have been a few weeks back.”
Fiddler drew his pistol and aimed it at her face.
“No it wasn’t,” said Fiddler. He took her pistol out of her holster and tossed it aside. “You couldn’t have gotten it before Thursday. That’s when Loma came to Moortown. Where did you really get it?”
“What? I don’t—” Fiddler embedded the revolver into her forehead and cocked it.
“Don’t lie to me. I hate liars. I’ll know if you’re lying. Where did you get this?”
“I— f— I found it in Lundun. On the street.” Fiddler fired his gun into the wall behind Alana.
“You lied to me!” he shouted over the ringing in her ears. “Next time you lie, I’m going to kill you. You were the Ranger who travelled with Loma, weren’t you?”
Alana was speechless.
“Weren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“They’re here in Lundun aren’t they? Loma and the other one.”
“Yes,” she said.
“And where are they headed? Why are they in Lundun?”
Alana stared at him, petrified. He fired another shot, above her head. “WHERE ARE THEY GOING?”
“I can’t remember the – it was…”
Fiddler, panned his gun down to her knee.
“NO!” she screamed “It was called – Eddington, No Etria! It was Etria! I swear.”
“And then where?”
“I don’t know – they’re trying to get her plane fixed – that’s all I know! I swear it. I swear it on my sister’s grave,” she burst into tears.
Fiddler stared at her, he cocked his head sideways. He watched her cry for a while.
“Leave this place,” He whispered. “Never return. Go north. Do not speak of me to anyone for any reason. If I see you again I’ll kill you.” He crept away into the Lundun streets.
Alana fell back and slid to the floor silently crying. She heard the sound of a bike taking off.
She sat with her head on her knees, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. Trying to discern what were lies, and what were truths. She tried to recall the conversation, if she had incriminated herself, given him too much information. She knew he would be after Loma in Etria, but for what purpose? To kill her?
She heard the bike returning. She looked up. The roar of the engine grew louder. She ran for her pistol and drew it. The engine turned off and she heard footsteps running towards her. She retreated into the darkness of the station, she seemed to move in slow motion, like she was in a nightmare, tears blinded her. She crouched down and rested her pistol on the crook of her arm, but even in this position her hands shook.