They Who Fell (21 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

N
one of the servants had come out, not since the first explosion. The angels had sent a group inside, as crawling around underground was beneath the stature of any of them. They’d let them root around below until they’d heard a loud crack, and plumes of smoke began drifting up from the interior. Then they sent in another set of them, idling away the afternoon until the sound of screaming signaled the need for yet another group to follow them into the depths.

“I warned you,” said Uzziel. “I warned you this was a hotbed of military activities.”

“Just as you warned us of dozens of other locations,” said Rhamiel. “Your maps are practically a sea of red, given how many pins you’ve put in them. The tales of villainy you spin can be delightful, but it gets a tad repetitive.”

“I have sources,” said Uzziel. “I have spies, who’ve investigated this very place. I see what you others can’t. I can see the threat.”

They’d flown to the island, circling around in the skies as Zuphias led them closer and closer to where he thought they’d be. He’d finally dropped them near an old farm and some abandoned buildings. They’d sent in one of the lower ranking angels to investigate, and he’d come out with a bear trap clamped around his hand. There was no real injury, but this sort of work was best done by proxy, and so they sent for the servants. They’d taken hours to arrive, even being led there from above, following behind the angels on the ground with a train of men, supplies, and white banners.

Some of the servants had been ordered to set up camp, erecting a command tent to serve as their base of operations. Most of the angels could have done without, but Uzziel insisted. He needed a place to hold his maps, and he needed a hub for his spies to report to. The rest of the servants milled around outside the buildings, hoping to avoid being tasked with anything dangerous. Most of the angels stayed inside the tent, waiting for the explorations to finally be finished.

“I know they were here,” said Zuphias. “The walls practically reek of her. I can hear her voice echoing from them even now, whispering things to me in my head. She might still be below. Something is, else they wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to defend it.”

“They might have done so simply for the fun of it,” said Ecanus. “I certainly would have.”

“You’re welcome to lay whatever traps you like in your new accommodations,” said Rhamiel.

“I doubt I’ll be having any unwelcome visitors to play with,” said Ecanus. “Not any longer. One of the few downsides to my move, not that I’ve any real complaints.”

“You shouldn’t,” said Zuphias, his nose poked as high into the air as he could manage. “Someone with the kind of scarring you have would never make their way into high society without a little push. You’ve a face that belongs at the bottom, regardless of what neighborhood you’ve sneaked your way into.” Bumping Ecanus ahead of his designated position had been a true affront to Zuphias, who had trouble stomaching quick movements up or down the social hierarchy. The Fall was one thing, but the entire purpose of status was to keep people where they should be. Let the ladder down for one, and others would climb along behind him.

“And yet I’m so very close to you now, dear Zuphias,” cackled Ecanus. “Someone of my lowly status, and I can pop by to visit any time it pleases me. We’ll see each other so often, you and I. We can exchange neighborly gifts, as a sort of welcome. Perhaps I’ll leave a corpse of one of the servants on your doorstep, once I’ve coaxed a few screams from their belly.” He couldn’t torture his comrades, but he could irritate them, and he took great pleasure in tweaking those who thought themselves his betters when he could.

“Let us focus on the matter at hand,” said Rhamiel. “We know they’ve been here, and perhaps they still are. Send in another set of servants, a dozen of them this time. If they can’t resolve the matter, I’ll send in one of us.”

“Perhaps Zuphias was wrong,” said Ecanus, with a giggle and a snort. “Perhaps his miracles are all in his head.”

“I know my work, and I know it well,” said Zuphias. “I can make any of them pray to the Maker, in any language I choose. And I can hear them when I do. This one was here, somewhere. I can’t feel where she’s gone to, and I can’t channel the words. Perhaps she’s dead.”

“Perhaps her prayers were answered,” said Ecanus. “Perhaps you should have bid her to sing something other than a tyrant’s praises.”

“I’d alter the contents of their little speeches if I could, believe you me,” said Zuphias. “Had I been in charge of the content of our miracles, I’d have come up with something more clever than talking donkeys and parted waters. The Maker wanted prayers, and so he taught us to make them pray. If you think you can do better, I challenge you to try.”

Shouting came into the tent from outside, and one of the lower ranking angels rushed in to report progress in their investigations. There wasn’t much, he said, and no one was left. But they’d found something, an object of immense interest. He held it up by the hair, a human head. The tissues were decomposing, and it looked the worse for wear. But the interesting part was the bottom: the bone itself had been burnt clean through, a wound that could only be the product of an angelic sword.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

S
he wasn’t sure what to make of them, these outsiders in their white clothing. It was supposed to be a mark of loyalty, but the loyal would never have entered the tower unaccompanied by any of the angels. The fat one seemed nervous, though that was to be expected. But the big, blonde one looked like he hated every one of the servants, exuding anger from every pore. It was a strange attitude for someone who’d never met them, and a strange emotion for someone who was a servant himself to show so carelessly inside the tower.

The servants were peppering them with questions, treating them like exotic travelers from a foreign land. They were, in a way, and everyone wanted to know what it was like out there and which angels they were loyal to. Sam waved them all aside once too many questions started to come, telling everyone that the fun was over and that it was time to get back to work. They’d all get together by the fire once night fell, and then they could ask anything they liked. But for now, things had to keep running as usual, and he’d be serving Isda himself.

Sam shooed the servants away and ushered the visitors into one of the storage rooms, saying they were here to do an inventory of their stores to come up with a list of things for them to look for on the outside. That was usually handled by Sam himself, but Jana thought he might have been overwhelmed by Isda’s ravenous appetite. The rest of the servants decamped to the kitchens. Jana was tired of enduring their taunting, and so she stayed in the common area, flipping through magazines she’d already read hundreds of times and trying to while away the day.

She heard them all coming back in the evening after their work was done, their voices carrying down the hallway. But they didn’t come in. The noise just kept moving, past the entrance and further away, towards the exit to the world outside the tower itself. She poked her head out into the hall, and could see the tail end of the crowd of servants, walking away holding torches as they went out to the loading docks. Her mouth dropped; they were never to go out there, not for any reason. Other servants were in charge of the cargo, and even Sam could only go so close to the exit without risking death if he was caught. She was too terrified to follow, and so she went the opposite direction, heading towards the kitchen to see if anyone had stayed behind.

Someone had, but not the servants. Sam’s guests were all that was left, unzipping duffel bags and dumping their contents onto the tables. She let out an involuntary gasp, and then quickly ducked away from the doorway. She didn’t know what all of it was, but she thought she recognized some of their equipment: guns, large black things that had no business in the tower. She started to slink away, hoping they didn’t know she was there. If they heard her, they didn’t come after her. She could hear them talking among themselves and rustling around with their equipment. She crept back to a hiding place around a corner and waited, to see if she could get some clue as to what they were up to.

They came out after a few more minutes, and she jerked her head back behind the corner, preparing to run. Where she’d escape to, she hadn’t the faintest idea, but it became a moot point as she heard the voices disappearing down the hallway in the opposite direction. She dared a peek, and saw them standing outside the dining room, holding their weapons and whispering to each other. She ran back to the common area, stopping only when she heard noises coming out of one of the storage rooms, the one where they’d been keeping Peter. She eased open the door, hoping again not to be noticed, but this time her luck didn’t hold.

“Jana,” said Sam, calling her from inside. “Come in here and help us.”

He was working with two of the other servants to lift Peter onto a blanket, the best approximation of a stretcher they’d been able to come up with. Peter was moaning; he still didn’t have his senses about him. His body had finally given out from the sum of his tortures, and his system was forcing him to rest and recover now that Ecanus wasn’t around to prod him into consciousness. Now they wanted to move him, to take him outside with the others, but he was dead weight until he’d had more time to heal.

“You have to come with us, Jana,” said Sam. “We’re leaving the tower. Now, while it’s still dark.”

“We can’t just leave the tower,” said Jana. “We can’t just leave our place. They’ll kill us, all of us.”

“We’ve been ordered to,” said Sam. “It was Isda. I just spoke to him myself. He says they want us to leave, just for the night. Rhamiel’s outside, and he’s made camp in the city. He wants us to come there to celebrate. They’ve caught the ones he was hunting, and they need servants to manage the feast. Rhamiel wants you there. It’s his moment. His triumph. He wants to share it with you. This is all approved from up above, don’t you worry.”

He said it with conviction, and she almost believed it. He was an excellent liar, when he had to be. A poor one wouldn’t have survived as long as he had in his position. Some things the angels didn’t need to know, if they could be fixed before they’d noticed. But Jana had seen too much for blind trust. The servants wouldn’t be leaving without a chaperone, not if his story was true. And it didn’t sound plausible, not once she’d thought about it even a little. She’d never heard of servants leaving the tower, not for any reason. The angels used the ones outside for any tasks out there, and didn’t like for the servants inside the tower to mix with them unnecessarily. And none if this explained the strange goings on outside of the dining room, or the weapons she’d thought she’d seen. Sam must have read her disbelief in her face, because he gave up on his story without pressing the matter.

“You have to come with us, Jana,” said Sam. “You have to trust me.”

“Where are you taking Peter?” asked Jana. “If there’s a celebration, why are you moving him?”

“We have to leave,” said Sam. “You remember your friend, Cassie?”

“She wasn’t my friend,” said Jana. “I thought she was my friend, but she wasn’t.”

“The note,” said Sam. “You brought me her note. You have to understand. We aren’t supposed to live this way. This isn’t the way things were, before they came. We were free. We didn’t have to do what we were told. There’s still people out there, people who want us to be free. People who would rather die than serve. None of us are fighters. I know that, you know that. But we can’t stay here. The fight’s coming here. If Peter stays, he’s going to die. If you stay, you’re going to die. You have to come with us.”

“Rhamiel,” said Jana. “He told me to stay here. It’s not safe anywhere else.”

“If you follow their orders, you’re going to die,” said Sam. “If you stay here, you’re going to die. We’re taking Peter. We’re going to try to get away. You have to come. You’re smarter than this.”

“Isda,” said Jana. “He’s here to protect me. One of them will hunt me down if they find out I’ve left.”

“Don’t, Jana,” said Sam. “Trust me.”

But she couldn’t simply trust, not anymore. It wasn’t just the angels who’d proven themselves unreliable. Peter had drawn Ecanus’s attentions to her, even if he hadn’t meant to. Cassie had threatened her, and used their relationship to get what she wanted. And none of her friends below had been true, not even after years of living and working together.

She started to back away, taking a few steps away from them. She didn’t really have any plans, or know what she’d do. But they made the decision for her. Sam rushed at her, trying for a tackle that would knock her to the floor. He was too old for that; she slipped to the side, leaving him to land on the ground himself as she turned and ran. “You can’t stay!” he yelled, as she disappeared down the hallway. But she couldn’t go, either, not with them.

Her only options were bad, and she had only seconds to weigh them. She could run for the common area, but that was a dead end unless she wanted to follow them outside. She could fight, but Sam had the other servants with him, and she was sure to lose. So she picked the only choice she had: a mad dash for the ramp, past Isda and past the outsiders. If she could only make it up there, she’d have a chance. She thought she could find someone to help her—the laborers had worked for Rhamiel before, they’d seemed friendly, and they knew who she was. If she could make it to the middle levels, maybe she could find them, and hide among them until he came back.

She ran towards the dining area, taking a quick look around the corner before she turned it. The outsiders had finished whatever they were doing and were opening the door. She could hear Isda from inside, shouting. “The left. From the left!” They were sneaking towards him from behind, and it was her chance. She sprinted out from behind the corner, catching the attention of the fat one as he held the door to the dining area open. He started to panic, silently waving his hands towards the others, but he wasn’t fool enough to make a sound. The two other men were advancing on Isda, approaching the back of his chair as he continued to shout. “One, two, three, four, five!”

She thought she’d made it. She could see the ramp in the distance down the hall, and once she was on it they’d never catch her. She started towards it, but felt herself pulled from the side, a hand grabbing her arm as she let out a quick, startled cry. She’d been so focused on the others that she’d forgotten about the woman, the one who’d come inside with them. She could still see them as she tried to free herself, the blonde one approaching Isda’s chair from behind and holding up a glowing, round piece of metal.

The woman who’d grabbed her put a finger to her lips, and Jana instinctively kept quiet. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she whispered to Jana. “We’re going to kill him.”

Jana could have called out, and shouted a warning. Isda hadn’t moved, and she could still hear him counting to himself as the danger crept closer. The woman wasn’t even trying to stop her, just holding her arm and looking at her, pleading. She could have screamed, or fought, or done something to try to save him. But she found she didn’t want to. For the first time in ages, she made a choice for herself, one truly of her own free will. She looked at the woman, nodded, and watched in silence as they went about their work.

The blonde man was directly behind Isda, following his demands to approach from the left. He stood there in silence, holding the device in his hands and steeling himself. He brought it down quickly, snapping it onto Isda’s neck in a single motion and jumping away as Isda stood up from the table, roaring with anger.

It hadn’t gotten quite around him, not all the way. Isda was too fat for that, and the device wasn’t much of a fit. He swiveled around to face them, his wings jerking up and down as smoke steamed from his neck. Even with his enemy before him, he couldn’t quit counting. He reached for his sword, shouting and tapping at the scabbard. “One, two, three!” His eyes rolled back into his head as he tapped, and he’d lost count by the time they reappeared. He kept tapping, slower now, and kept at his shouting. “One, two! Three!” He couldn’t seem to bring himself to draw his sword, not without following the ritual to its conclusion. But the device kept working its magic, and he moved slower and slower, slurring his speech as he tried to finish the count. He fell to the floor, drool dripping from his mouth, his hand tapping against the scabbard over and over even after he’d stopped speaking. Finally he grew quiet, a fallen behemoth done in by his own compulsions.

The woman released Jana’s arm, but she didn’t flee. “You can’t be here,” said the woman. “Not anymore. You need to go with your friends, with everyone else. I know it’s scary. But I also know you can’t stand the angels. We can’t, either. You can stay, and I won’t stop you. But people are going to die here tonight, and if you don’t leave….”

She paused, a perplexed look on her face. Then she started to cough, convulsing like Isda had, and flipping her head to the side to vomit on the floor. She cried out to the others, “It’s happening!” Then she collapsed to her knees, and began speaking to Jana, something she couldn’t understand. “Ma’am?” said Jana, trying to help her to her feet. She didn’t respond, other than to keep jabbering as her friends rushed to her side.

One of them reached into the woman’s pocket, grabbing a little bottle. He pulled off the top and emptied a pile of pills from it into his hand. The woman’s hands jerked toward them, and then went into spasms. She looked up, mumbling sounds that approximated English. He slipped one into her mouth as she spoke, closing her lips with his hand. She managed to swallow it, but obviously at great effort. She had some control over herself, still, but all her motions were a strain. The man popped in another, only for her to spit it out involuntarily. A few more attempts, and she finally downed it. She kept up her talking for a few more minutes, furiously spouting words that Jana couldn’t understand. Finally she slowed, and then stopped, regaining command of herself.

The men tried to comfort her, but she waved them off as best she could. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m back. But one of them knows where we are. We have to move, and do it now.”