The Curse of the Winged Scorpion
Negotiation

Itwas a short flight to the Aramantine air patrol base. Aramant was on the veryedge of the Battlan Steppes. It was the last bastion of humanity on the edge ofthe miasma. The miasma made it impossible to fly over the Steppes, and alsomade most of the country unsuited for air flight. The Aramantine air patrolbase was situated within the country’s only skyport perched on top of a jaggedmountain cleft near the Tabrian border. It amused Fantel in a vague way torealise that they were actually flying back the way they had come, leavingVedeca behind. She glanced over at Rashari, who continued to glare out of thewindow. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. He appeared to besulking. The stiff way he held himself, from the tense line of his shoulders tothe taut skin around his eyes made it clear he wasn’t open to conversation. Notthat they could talk freely now at any rate. She was confident he would comeback to life and lies once they landed. She returned her gaze to the view fromthe cockpit window.

Theskyport over looked a deep valley and a serpentine curve of river far below.The city of Aramantine was visible in the near distance, the many walls of thefortress city curled around and around a high hill, and the lights of thecity’s towers winked in the night. A suspension bridge stretched between theskyport-mountain and its opposite neighbour, and funicular railways climbed upand down from the skyport to the valley below. A steam-train thundered over thesuspension bridge, powering its way around perilous bends to wind down themountain and onward to Aramantine. The funicular tracks and the bridge wereablaze with rainbow light, strangely beautiful against the inky blackness ofthe sky.

Fantelsat forward curiously to watch as the patrol ship came into dock. She’d spenttime in Aramantine before, and travelled extensively through the country, buthad never set foot inside the skyport, let alone the air patrol base. She was alittle disappointed to discover that the Aramite port looked almost identicalto the one in Remenes; a hive of access ports and red flashing light towerspock-marking the dark mountainside. Lieutenant Roake flew the ship into one ofthe access tunnels and they floated through darkness picked out with faint pinkishlight. They emerged into a hangar bay indistinguishable from any other hangarbay in any other sky port in Aldlis.

Dockingwas swift and uneventful. Fantel stayed seated as the docking clamps snappedinto place around the ship and the engines powered down. Beside her Rasharisighed, a soft tired sound, and shifted in his seat, wincing every time hemoved his injured shoulder. He smelled over ripe; the reek of coppery blood andsweat had soaked into his clothes. He had not changed clothes before passingout at Vedeca’s controls. He looked a state. Fantel was grateful for herpurloined clothes and the quick wash she had managed in Remus’ cabin. The stillthrobbing cuts on her arm pulsed quietly, reminding her that she would need tochange the dressings soon.

Theywere escorted off the ship in single file. Tomah was taken first, pushed aheadby the female patrol officer. He turned around briefly to throw a black glaretheir way before he vanished from the cabin. Then it was their turn. The juniorpatrolman led the way, followed by Rashari and then Fantel, while thelieutenant walked behind them, his hand resting on his pistol holstered to hisbelt. Fantel could feel the weight of his eyes on her back as she walked, buttook it as a good sign that neither she nor Rashari had been shackled.

Thehangar stank of phantasma fumes and Fantel sneezed before she could stopherself. “Keep moving,” Roake murmured at her back when she paused to lookaround. Metal walkways spanned the wide, deep expanse of the hangar andscaffolding climbed the walls. She could see human men and women in cream andpale hellow uniforms move purposefully around the hangar. Flocks of boxy,propeller driven automatons zipped through the open spaces between platforms.They trilled softly as they went, camera eyes flashing over the resting airshipsin swathes of glowing blue light. It took Fantel a moment to realise what waswrong with the scene. There were no goblins. The skyport in Remenes had beenteeming with goblin engineers, but Fantel could not see a single short, cloakedfigure anywhere in the hangar. It was incongruous and wrong. The hangar wouldhave looked less odd without a single airship than it did without a singlegoblin.

Theywere led up a series of ramps and metal stairways toward a wide bank of glasswindows high up on the far side of the hangar. Fantel could see more humans inuniforms on the other side of the bank of windows. It looked like some kind ofcontrol hub filled with desks and terminals. They were marched through asecurity door, the anima sigils framing the wide doorway flashing silver-whiteas they passed through the threshold, and into the room beyond.

“Argyle,”Lieutenant Roake stepped ahead of Fantel as soon as the security door hadsealed closed behind them, addressing himself to a sandy-haired man seatedbehind one of the larger terminals directly in front of the door. “We’ve gotone prisoner to process and two – guests – who need an escort to interview roomfive.” Roake flicked an ironic gaze in their direction. Fantel mostly ignoredthe exchange, curiously looking around at the wide open office space filledwith faintly glowing desk terminals. There was a hush in the room, one filledwith the quiet weight of concentration and the subliminal hum of sensor pads.Fantel glanced over at Rashari, who caught her look. One side of his mouthticking up in a smile; he leaned in so he could whisper for her ears only.“Wonders of bureaucracy; I’ll bet half the people in this room are just staringat a blank screen.”

Fantelarched one brow but refrained from comment. She was supposed to be a mutesavage after all. She was perfectly blank faced and impassive when Roaketwisted around to scowl at them, having caught the faint murmur of Rashari’svoice.

“MrRousseau, if you’d follow Officer Argyle to one of our waiting rooms, mycommanding officer will be with you shortly to take your statement.” He said,throwing Rashari a bladed smile. The man behind the desk came around towardthem, eyes fixed on Fantel warily.

“Andmy associate,” Rashari nodded to her and Fantel shifted her weight from one hipto the other a little impatiently. She had been willing to play her part sofar, following Rashari’s lead, but she was not prepared to be put in a cagelike an unruly pet.

“TheChimera stays with you,” Roake said his gaze resting steadily on Fantel. “Solong as you think you can control her?”

Fanteltwitched just a little at that and Rashari huffed a startled laugh, which heswiftly covered by pretending to cough into his hand. “I think Madame Chimerais more than capable of controlling herself,” he murmured, the dry edge to hisvoice more in keeping with his true self than the supercilious Imperial he wascurrently pretending to be.

“Hmm,”Roake watched them coolly. Fantel had the feeling he was trying to worksomething out. He was already suspicious, doubting Rashari’s story. Yetwhatever suspicions he might harbour he was still at least pretending to goalong with Rashari’s lies. She wondered what would happen when someone askedRashari for his official papers and discovered that he most definitely was nota zoologist.

“Thisway please,” Argyle spoke with a stiff, officious curl to his lip and spunsharply on his heels, not waiting to see if they would fall into lineobediently behind him.

Theyfollowed Argyle passed the bank of desks and humming terminals and throughanother security door, down a corridor and deep into the bowels of the base.Fantel could almost feel the weight of the mountain above and all around them.There was something disconcerting about being so close to Mother Aldlis’beating heart and yet not be able to hear even a whisper of her presence. Shewondered what it was like for the humans who worked here, burrowed deep asticks in the ground, ignorant of the power of the land they bent and broke totheir will so casually. Did they feel powerful surrounded by their technologyand concrete, or did they sit in fear of the mountain crashing down on theirheads?

“Waitin here please,” Argyle said stopping in front of an unmarked door half waydown a long grey corridor. He fixed Rashari with a dubious look that seemed tolinger on his blood stained clothing and wildly mussed hair. “For your safetythe door will be locked. There is a call bell inside the room.” He narrowed hiseyes at them both. “For emergencies only.”

Rasharismiled at the man, showing teeth. “And audio recording devices hidden in thewalls for spying purposes. Yes, I think I know what sort of room this is.” Hereached around the man and opened the door, nodding to Fantel. “Ladies first.”

Fantelstepped into the small, nondescript room. There was a square table and threechairs in the centre and no other furniture. The walls were bare and the floorwas uncovered concrete. A single phantasma light panel set into the ceilingthrew rainbow reflections across the table top. It looked like someone hadupended an artist’s entire supply of oil paints onto the table and smeared thepaint around. Argyle wasted no time locking them in. Fantel immediately turnedto face Rashari questions writ large upon her face.

Hepressed a finger to his lips, warning her to silence even though she had madeno move to speak. He walked to the table and drew out one of the chairs. Hesank down into it, wincing and clapping his good hand over his injuredshoulder. Fantel grudgingly moved to the table and perched on the edge facingRashari. Carefully she brushed aside his hand and pulled the open neck of hisshirt down so she could see the wound. The skin was mottled with painfulpurple-black bruises that blossomed like roses over his pale skin. The wounditself looked angry; the skin split and torn, swelling around the edges of thetear. All the same the bleeding had stopped and his upper chest was no longermarbled with necromantic veins. Fantel looked up into his face, noted the fainthint of fever heating his cheeks, and the ghost of wariness in his eyes. Shewasn’t touching his skin, but she could feel the ordinary warmth of livingflesh radiating from him, completely different from the clinging, vicious chillthat had iced his skin when Roake had tried to heal him. Once more she lookedfrom his wound and into his eyes and saw the unspoken plea that she keep backher questions. He was more afraid of what she might know than he was of theAramite authorities.

Fantelpulled away, settling back on the edge of the desk, and let her hands drop toher lap. There was dried blood ingrained around her nails and her arm stillthrobbed. She could feel blood from the saturated bandages seeping into theinner lining of her coat. She stared at the blank back wall and struggled tomaintain her silence. Her mind was teeming with questions, like a shoal ofsilvery fish flashing and swirling in an ocean of confusion. She wasn’t angry,or in any way afraid to be so near to Rashari. What she had sensed inside himbefore had scared her, but sitting beside him now, even knowing he had draggedher into even more trouble, she was surprised to replace that she had no desire toescape his company. She wasn’t angry. She was curious. She wanted to replace out what was going tohappen next. Would they be arrested and taken under armed guard to theAramantine jail? Would Rashari manufacture some sort of jailbreak, perhaps withSmith’s aid? Fantel had taken note of Smith’s disappearance, and everything shehad learned so far led her to believe that the automaton had deliberatelyhidden from the air patrol. She wondered about Vedeca. Rashari hadn’t beenhappy leaving his ship, but he had done so, which was surprising in and ofitself. He’d also made no effort to hide from the patrol before they arrived.Fantel wondered now if he’d meant to be caught by the patrol all along. Heseemed to have a back-up plan for everything and a plan for nothing. Thesuspicion that he was simply making things up as he went along was a powerfulone, yet, surely he must have some notion of what he was doing? He’d told herhe needed to get out onto the Steppes, but he hadn’t told her plainly what heintended to do with the Heart once there. Battlan was a wild and treacherousplace, vast and ill-suited to humans, it was not a place to venture lightly.

Fanteldrummed her fingers on the table top as she pondered the strange turn her lifehad taken in the last day. The silence between her and Rashari was comfortable,if not restful. Occasionally Rashari would shift in his chair, rolling hisinjured shoulder, or rake his fingers through his hair. Fantel let her gazetrack over the walls trying to replace the hidden recording devices Rashari hadmentioned.

Thedoor opened, shattering the slow crawling seconds of boredom. Fantel slippedoff the table and turned around to face the door as a broad-chested man with along, dour face and slicked back hair stepped into the room. The shoulders ofhis air patrol uniform had gold tassels, and Fantel guessed this must beRoake’s commanding officer. Affording Fantel a cursory –and less than happy–glance the man fixed his eyes on Rashari.

“MrRousseau?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t believe Rashari’s aliasanymore than Lieutenant Roake had. “My name is Commander Arundel. I understandyou and your – companion – had some difficulty tonight?” He sneered, fleshylips peeling back from strong white teeth.

“Ifby difficulty you mean were we attacked by slavers on route to this veryskyport, only to be forced to make an emergency landing and narrowly avoidbecoming prize lots in the next Dha-hali slave auction then yes,” Rasharireplied tartly. “We have indeed had a difficultevening.”

“Yes,”Arundel smiled, ignoring Rashari’s sharpness completely. “Lieutenant Roake saidyou claimed to have been the victim of a Dha-hali attack.”

“Claimed?” Rashari snapped, incredulous.

“Yes,”Arundel repeated, neatly cutting Rashari off. “Claimed.” He sat down in thevacant chair across the table from Rashari, sparing a glance for Fantel. Shestepped back to lean against the wall. “You see, my lieutenant also tells methat he found two dead men at the crash scene, and one Dha-hali chained up inthe cargo hold with teeth marks in his neck.” Arundel smiled, conciliatory andinsincere, gaze settling meaningfully on Fantel before flicking back toRashari. “You must admit Mr Rousseau the circumstances are a little suspicious.How do I know you and your little friend over there aren’t the real slavers?You could have switched ships before my people arrived, seeking to passyourself off as the victims when you realised you wouldn’t be able to escape.”

“That’sfar-fetched.” Rashari stated, deeply unimpressed. He pointedly looked down athis bloody clothing. “I suppose I also beat myself up to make my little rusethat much more convincing?”

“Perhapsyou did,” Arundel was still smiling but his eyes were hard. “You are not azoologist Mr Rousseau and you are not in Aramant for tree frogs.” He satforward, lacing his fingers together, hands resting on the table in front ofhim. “Your Dha-hali friend is a wanted man. There are warrants for his arrestin Tabris and Bhuvam. Air Patrol’s reputation will be greatly enhanced with hiscapture.” Arundel’s bottle green eyes gleamed under the cold ceiling light.“All of this has put me in a – magnanimous – mood. I might be willing tooverlook any irregularities around your presence in my country,” he saidsmilingly, “If you make it worth my while.”

Fantelblinked, shifting against the wall, her gaze darting to the back of Rashari’shead. A bribe; the man had just asked for a bribe, hadn’t he?

“Makeit worth your while?” Rashari drawled. He sounded bored and vaguely irritatedand Fantel realised he was no longer pretending to be Lourand Rousseau at all.She wasn’t sure who or what he was pretending to be now. “I’m not sure I knowwhat you mean, Commander.”

Arundellost the smile, face falling into long creases. “You realise I can have youarrested for entering Aramite air space without authorisation?” He snapped,irked. “I can impound your ship, throw you into prison, and toss your pet overthere out onto the Steppes to be torn apart by the other savages.” Arundelleaned further forward across the table, hands braced on the table edges. “Ican charge you with murder. Provost Tuft is an enthusiastic proponent of thedeath sentence, Mr Rousseau,especially when applied to arrogant Imperials caught lying to governmentagents.”

“Wellin that case,” Rashari said smiling and sitting up in his chair so he couldlean forward until he was almost nose to nose with Arundel. “You can explain toold man LePortail why his cargo hasbeen impounded.”

“LePortail,”Arundel sat back abruptly, deflating into his seat like a pricked balloon. Hestared at Rashari, his expression a complex mesh of surprise, displeasure,worry and scepticism. “You work for LePortail.”

“I’mtransporting something he wants,” Rashari averred, not quite answering thequestion. “I doubt he’ll be impressed if he has to retrieve his merchandisefrom the bowels of your base. He’s a reclusive sort, not fond of drawingattention to his imported purchases. Do you think the kudos you’ll get forcapturing the Dha-hali will be enough to appease him?”

Arundellooked anything but happy now. “You could be lying,” he said, clearly clutchingat straws as he scrambled to regain control of this interview.

“Icould be,” Rashari admitted, easily enough. “You seem certain I’ve done plentyof that already.” He sat back in his chair and hitched his right shoulder in aslight shrug. “On the other hand I might be telling the truth. I might havesomething LePortail wants. He might, in fact, want to talk to me very badlyabout certain items that may or may not be in my possession as we speak. Hemight, possibly, be less than pleasedto replace out I was detained by your patrol on my way to meet with him.”