Beluga Fay (Dragon Bone Hill) (22 page)

Right now, though, there was the issue of patrolling the streets beyond the warehouse complex in the middle of a blackout. All Sapet had to go by was moonlight, and that was periodically severed by the clouds. The Cartel, even the militia, liked to hit them on nights like this. They’d also been hit by unaffiliated groups in search of supplies which were becoming increasingly spare. All believed, mostly because of the Fay’s size—so Sapet and other guards supposed—that supplies would be plentiful here. They weren’t—size was beginning to work against the Beluga, and had been for a while. Resources had become so limited that some of the newest members had abandoned the Fay in hopes of finding food elsewhere. Sapet didn’t think they would, but it was a possibility.

As the guard was considering his own empty belly, there was the rattle of a can up the street, or around the corner. The echo, though subtle, was everywhere. Stopping, Sapet pulled against the wall and went down on a knee. “Identify yourself.” There was a brief pause.

“Ishander, coming around.”

With that Sapet relaxed a little but kept the weapon trained on the corner. Whoever might be out there could have taken Ishander, and he’d never been a brave soul. None of them were any longer. There’d been a time, after Pym had arrived, when the Fay had been in the ascendency, that this was true. Now, however, the Beluga Fay was more interested in hanging on to what they had than expanding into new territories. One more reason the choice between Lander and Pym was difficult—neither had a plan to fix the problem.

“Come out slowly, and do not make any sudden movements.” Sapet was not taking any chances. None of them were brave, and all of them were becoming improbably cautious.

Ishander turned the corner. In silhouette Sapet could see the man and the weapon that hung from his vest. Beneath that he wasn’t wearing any shirt. It was too hot and humid for that. The heat was such that neither of them was wearing pants either—both had chosen shorts, as just about everyone else had. Sandals were the preferred footwear. Most of the guards were from the smaller islands, and this was the traditional dress there. Though the Beluga had attempted to change Sapet and Ishander, as well as the rest, they never could manage it.

“What’s with the noise?” Sapet asked.

“Didn’t see the can—can’t see much of anything in this.”

“At least no one else can either.”

“Hope they can’t.”

“Still, this would be a good night to hit us.”

“Was thinking much the same.”

“They’ve got to do something about this power.”

“Who?”

“The bosses.”

“Who’s the boss now?”

“What’s it matter? But whoever is in charge has to do something—sooner or later this is going to get us killed.”

“Suppose that’s why we are still getting food.”

“I’m on half rations.”

“We all are, but that’s better than others. Heard some of them are only getting one meal a day, and that is half of what they were getting a month ago.”

“If Pym would get his ass back where it belongs...”

“Wouldn’t matter. He can’t invent food.”

“We could push south and back into the markets.”

“That’s Cartel and government territory again—and they’ll fight hard to protect it.”

“Don’t see we have any choice if we do not want to starve—we already
are
starving.” Sapet heaved his weapon onto his shoulder and a hand went reflexively to his stomach.

“Where is Pym anyway?” Ishander asked as the moon came out. The broad flat features of his face were revealed as sweat ran down his cheeks.

“Haven’t heard anything of him for almost a week—maybe he’s planning something?”

“He’s always planning something, but I don’t see much of those plans coming our way—and still they’ve got us patrolling.”

“What do you mean?” Sapet asked.

“We’re out here getting shot at, and he’s I don’t know where.”

Sapet shrugged. It was true, but he didn’t see that either of them, or anyone else—even Lander—could do anything about that.

“He didn’t?” Pym was having a hard time with the idea.

“For now. I’m sure father will relent.”

“Out of the house?”

She nodded.

“Are you staying in Makati?”

She nodded again.

“But only when I have to.”

“Where?”

“With Chrislann, but he’s not happy either.”

“That I don’t get—he still wants out, right?”

“Of course, but we’re not out yet, and there is a growing concern we never will be.”

“This is because of the rumor you are sleeping with me?”

“It’s different here. Sleeping with a foreigner and, even worse, getting serious with a foreigner is not acceptable.”

“But I’ve seen foreigners with your women in photos a lot.”

“They’re poor, and they need to help their families—but it is a shameful thing.”

“The Sweats hasn’t changed any of that?”

“Made it worse. Most believe this was brought here by foreigners because they are...”

“Dirty?”

Glenna nodded, sinking back in to the cushioned seat. They were meeting at a coffee shop not far from the North gate and close on to the eastern frontier of the northern industrial zone. It was the only place, any longer, to get real coffee, and that was growing dear. Luckily, one of the things that Pym had gotten by way of concession from the guards was free access to any of the goods and services offered by the shops, the Wall, and the dwindling elites.

Dwindling because what they had to offer as trade was becoming increasingly spare, beyond the reach of any but Salazar’s closest allies. These as well were contracting as the governor’s paranoia increased as food and energy became an issue. Glenna, via Chrislann, had made it clear the governor’s grasp on power weakened in almost direct relationship to their inability to feed the people and power the grid. The only thing that made it possible for Salazar to maintain his grasp on the governorship was the military, police, and militia—with some help from the Cartel. Even inside of Makati, the streets were being patrolled by both police and military. No one had noticed the militia but that, Glenna was certain, was only a shortish matter of time. There were even rumors that some members of the Cartel may be accepted into Makati in order to acquire access to more market resources and security.

Glenna maintained this was unlikely because of popular resentment toward the Cartel which had been responsible for more than a little violence directed toward the Makatians over the years—going back long before the Sweats. Pym was not so sure, given how desperate Salazar had become of late, but he let the observation pass in silence—it was obvious the possibility was unnerving the woman. That Glenna was wavering as to whether or not to give him up, because of her father’s order, was enough of a demonstration. For all of the woman’s posturing, she was, in the end, deeply traditional.

“So, what now?” Titus asked.

“I show my face as little as possible in Makati—until the rumors die down or we get out.”

“I see.”

“So?”

“What?”

“How much longer?”

“You ask me as though it is something I have control of.”

“You can push Tomás.”

“If I push harder, they could break off negotiations.”

“But we’re giving them a lot of diamonds and resources.”

“They’ll keep that up as long as they may. We need to wait until they’re hurting more than they already are.”

“When will that be?”

“When the National Government no longer gives them what they need.”

“Why don’t we stop feeding them the stones?”

“They’ll shift to someone else.”

“But Salazar has strangled off access to these. Only those closest to him are able to acquire the stones in any significant amount—not even father, because of me, can get these in large quantities.”

“Then where are you getting yours?”

“I have been hoarding, but the other members of the group have fathers which remain in favor—how much longer this will be the case I cannot say.”

“Okay, so we strangle off your friends’ resources, and there won’t be any access.”

“Even if we could do that, there is still the Cartel. The Wall would rather not deal with them, but if there are no other choices, they will.”

“But you just said the government has a stranglehold on the stones?”

“They do, but they need to pay the Cartel for security, and they need access, with as little trouble as possible, to the markets and agricultural centers in the South. The Cartel controls large swathes of territory in this area. You may own the West, central districts, and maintain influence in the South, but the South, for the most part, and the shores, belong to the Cartel.”

“And the national government has no control?”

“They have had to come to an arrangement in order to keep what food there is coming.”

“This would explain our shortfall.”

An eyebrow raised in question.

“The Fay is having trouble getting enough food for our membership—we’ve had to resort to rationing, and this has made the rank and file rebellious.”

“But you are safe?”

“From the Fay?”

 She nodded.

“For the moment, but I am more concerned about Lander—he’s been using this as an opportunity to raise his profile and increase his power base.”

“He may challenge you?”

“If I cannot change things soon, he may take the Fay. Doubt he’d know what to do with them, but that is another problem.”

“What are you going to do?”

Titus could see the cold calculus occurring behind the black eyes. “I may have to kill Lander—but that would only weaken my position and leave an opening for someone else to step into opposition.”

“What do you need to do in order to win back the Fay?”

“Firstly, I have to feed them and get a steady supply of food. Afterwards, I have to find some way to protect them from incursions—both government and Cartel.”

“I can’t help with the Cartel, but I do have access to what the government is planning.”

“But your father...”

“He mayn’t be speaking to me, but everyone else is, and the other members of my group have fathers that are still trusted. From them I will be able to get whatever information you may need about raids.”

“If you could do that, I’d be able to set up ambushes.” He was almost willing to trust the woman, but he’d seen too many faces to do that—completely anyway. Pym kept reminding himself that as long as their goals were in sync, he could almost do this, but keeping them in sync was going to be a problem.

“I cannot help you with the food.” Glenna almost appeared sorry.

“We’re going to have to push back into the South and the fish markets.”

“That would cause a lot of trouble, both the Cartel and the government would have to respond.”

“There is no choice—we need the food, and they won’t share it.”

“But could you withstand their combined strength?”

“That all depends on how many casualties both can absorb. We have no choice, and the chance of gaining access to a steady and comprehensive food supply would make the Fay crazy brave.”

“It will make Salazar equally desperate—leaving him only with the agricultural south and the marina markets as a source of seafood.”

“Our choices are dwindling.”

“All the more reason to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

He knew she was right, knew he’d have to light a match under the Wall—but didn’t see how this would do much more than cause new problems.

“You certain about this?” The meeting was larger than Titus would have liked, especially this close to the wall. But with Glenna spending so much time with him, she needed to be able to reassure her cabal. Still, she preferred to call them friends, but many of these he’d not seen before.

“We all need to be clear about what is happening going forward.”

“This is not meant to sound ungrateful or hostile, but I don’t know any of you.”

“I do.” Glenna appeared as though this was enough to sort out the entire problem Titus might be facing.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but other Makatians have tried to have me killed.”

“That was my father, and you realize it has nothing to do with this.”