The Real Read online

  “Nobody knew anything. Somebody said the troupe had broken up, wouldn’t be coming back again, but not everyone agreed. So who knows.” She shrugged. “As long as we leave them alone, chances are they’ll leave us alone.”

  “But what about the stuff we overheard?” said Isabeau. “Ndlela didn’t tell you about that part, not all of it. We heard them say they were looking for something. And that they were going to shoot somebody. They sounded like bad people, Noor. And they shot at us!”

  “Yes. They did,” said Noor, “but they probably shot up into the air just to scare you. People shoot at intruders, you know. They must have thought you were breaking in to steal things. That’s why it’s a bad idea to—”

  “They shot at us!” Isabeau stared at her sister. “I heard the bullet—”

  Noor rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Issy, please. It’s been a long day. I’ve got a headache—”

  “You always have a headache. I’m telling the truth!” Isabeau was on her feet now, hands clenched. “Tell her, Ndlela, you were there too. They shot at us. They are bad people. I heard them. And they were talking about a prisoner, and shooting somebody—”

  Noor just shook her head, turning away. “Just stay away from them, Isabeau. Leave them alone and they’ll leave us alone.” Noor looked at Ndlela. “I’m counting on you, Ndlela. Make sure that Issy doesn’t bother those people any more. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Ndlela. “We’ll stay away from them.”

  Isabeau looked at him in disgust and then she stomped up the ladder and through the hatch.

  “Hey!” Noor banged on the ladder. “Your turn to do the dishes, Issy!”

  Isabeau did not answer.

  ¤¤¤

  “Otto said what?” Diesel leaned closer, straining to hear over the noise of the cans being shuttled along behind her.

  Elke waited until the line of cans had moved past. “That it’s my bank account.”

  “He’s sure?” Something clanged and Diesel turned and called to the workers manoeuvring the cans onto the rails. She used a Strangeworld dialect that Elke did not understand.

  “That’s what he told me,” said Elke when she once again had her friend’s full attention. “And he has to hand in his report tomorrow morning. To Argent.”

  Diesel frowned. “And you think that it’s linked to this message you got from Moraes?”

  “It has to be, doesn’t it? She said that somebody’s trying to frame me.”

  “But why didn’t she just tell you who it was? And why is she warning you anyway?” Diesel, distracted by another loud clang, glanced around again. “Just hold on a bit, will you? These idiots—” She strode away.

  Elke tried to push down the surge of irritation as she watched Diesel instruct the can workers. It was the middle of Diesel’s shift, after all. She couldn’t just drop everything she was doing because Elke had a problem.

  “Right. Sorry about that,” said Diesel when she got back. “Got some new guys in. Not too good at following instructions.”

  She blew out a breath. “So you were telling me about Moraes.”

  “Yes.” Elke lowered her voice. “I don’t know why Moraes didn’t tell me more. I have no idea why she sent that message in the first place. All I know is that she wants to meet me. That she’s waiting for me in the Muara.”

  Diesel looked sharply at Elke. “You’re not thinking of going there, are you?”

  “Well—”

  “Don’t you understand?” Diesel’s voice rose a little. “The timing is just too perfect to be a coincidence. If they can tie this to Dolly, somehow, while she’s under scrutiny by the commission—”

  “I know that!” Elke closed her eyes briefly. “I know that, Diesel. That’s why I’m here. I need to know if there’s any way we can contact Dolly. Warn her—”

  Diesel was shaking her head. “There’s no way we can contact her while she’s up with the commission. It might actually make things worse if we try.” She looked searchingly at Elke. “What you need to do, Elke, is stay calm. Don’t go do anything rash. The worst they can do is throw you in a cell.”

  Elke’s face grew hot. “Yes. That’s all. And for how long? And what about Meisje? You know Argent has it in for her. What will happen to her while I’m rotting away in a cell somewhere?”

  “I’m sure we can make a plan to look after Meisje.” Diesel had lost a little of her certainty.

  “That makes me feel so much better.” Elke crossed her arms. “You heard what he did to that customs dog? Had it put to death because of a problem with its paperwork. He can do whatever the hell he likes to Meisje once I’m in that cell, and there’s nothing at all you can do to stop him. Not now that he’s got Dolly’s job.”

  Elke turned and stalked away. Behind her, Diesel called out, “Elke, wait. What are you going to do?”

  ¤¤¤

  When Elke got to the Bursar’s office it was late in the day and a queue had already formed. She waited as patiently as she could.

  Otto’s only going to tell them tomorrow morning. I’ve got plenty of time.

  She still felt shaky from the argument with Diesel. The afternoon had dragged painfully. It had been a struggle to concentrate on the various tasks Argent had set her. She’d kept finding herself staring blankly at some document or file, trying to figure out what Otto’s news meant, trying to make sense of it all.

  The one thing she’d decided on was to withdraw some money as soon as she came off duty. The protocol, when a suspect was wanted for arrest, was to freeze their bank account and alert the gate guards to prevent them from leaving the Eye. She had until tomorrow morning, when Argent got Otto’s report, before that went into effect.

  As Elke stood waiting in the queue, she tried to decide how much she could safely withdraw. Apart from the danger that withdrawing a large amount of money might alert somebody to her plans, it simply wasn’t safe to walk around with that much money.

  I need to make up my mind what to do. Diesel is right. I’ve got to stay calm.

  Yet the thought of being arrested and imprisoned again set her heart racing and brought the sweat prickling on her skin. She could almost smell that prison cell, feel the damp concrete. Whatever Diesel might think, her fear was entirely rational. The law in the Eye was in uneasy equilibrium between the reasoned, slower processes favoured on the Realside, and the Strangeworld’s decisive, brutal justice. Even if Elke herself escaped unharmed, what about Meisje? With Elke out of the way, even temporarily, what would happen to her?

  The sound of somebody clearing their throat brought her back to her surroundings and she found that she’d reached the front of the queue. She scribbled the amount she’d decided on and handed it over to the glim-clerk, who seemed unsurprised by her request, despite the fact that it was more money than she’d ever withdrawn before.

  He folded the notes and tucked them into rolls for her before he stamped her bank book. This done, Elke went back to her cubby, walking slowly, thinking.

  Her first assumption had been that Moraes herself was behind it all, that she was the one attempting to frame her. Then why send a warning, and such a strange warning, worded as though they were lovers? If Diesel was correct, then this was not aimed at Elke at all but was an attempt at discrediting Dolly, a way for the commission to drag her down. That fitted with Moraes’s warning that somebody in the Eye was responsible.

  At least one thing was clear to her. One way or another, she had to get in contact with Moraes, and to do that, she had to be out of the Eye before morning.

  ¤¤¤

  Even by night there were few places in the city that were truly dark.

  The three gardags slipped along behind buildings and crouched in the shadows, waiting for the chance to pass unseen.

  The younger dogs led the way now and Xun lagged behind. She was distracted and confused by the scents and sounds.

  The past rushed at her. One moment she was trotting along, her master at her heels, glancing back to see if he needed
her. Then with a lurch of fear she remembered where she was, shrinking down to hide from the humans all around.

  The houses were the worst. Fingers of scent reached through the doors and windows, waking longings she’d forgotten during the years alone on the mountain.

  A black metal gate. She’d seen it before, she was sure. Her nose touched the cold metal and the gate clanged softly. There were no high-pitched voices calling, no yelps and yips and whining, but surely if she listened hard enough she would hear them. Small, weak voices calling out for her warmth. Her nose quested for the scent of their bodies, small and warm, infinitely vulnerable. Xun sank down, confused, her hackles rising under the armour plating.

  Then her sons were next to her, nudging her impatiently away from the gate.

  It was early morning by the time they found their way through the city and went running along the ruined freeway, heading towards the scent of mud and sea.

  Kaapstadt

  The south-easter tugged at Elke’s headscarf and snapped the canvas that sheltered the stall. Elke drew the scarf tighter around her face. The owner of the stall, an old woman, had finally found what she’d been looking for.

  “Black.” The woman handed Elke the tube of dye. “You can put it on straight, or mix it with a bit of water to make it go farther. I’ll get you some gloves too, to save your hands, you want gloves?”

  “Okay, thanks. Yes.”

  The woman started her search again, moving with unhurried deliberation. All around them the Kaapstadt market was coming to life. People uncovering their stalls and setting out their wares. Somewhere close by somebody was frying food, the oily scent mixing with the sharp smell of paraffin and the tang of wood smoke.

  That mountain fire’s still burning. Buildings screened her view of Table Mountain but the sky had a greyish-yellow tinge. It must be dry as tinder up there, with no chance of rain. And this wind can’t be helping any.

  Elke looked at the windswept streaks of cloud high in the blue dome of the sky. It was both unsettling and exhilarating to have so much space above her after so long in the enclosed corridors and halls of the Eye. The wind, too, felt good. The only moving air in the Eye was from fans and ventilation ducts.

  It was good to be outside again. She’d forgotten what it was like.

  “Here.” The woman had found the gloves. “These are the thin kind.” She peered enquiringly at Elke. “That okay? You want the thick rubber ones?”

  “No, these are fine, thanks.” Elke counted out some coins. “Can you help me with something? I’m looking for Miss Ursula’s.”

  The woman tucked away the coins and pursed her mouth, moving her jaw from side to side as if she was chewing something. “You don’t look like a cop.”

  Elke tried not to smile. “I’m not a cop.” Well. Not out here in the Real, I’m not. She put another coin on the table.

  “Hm.” The woman chewed some more. “Okay, but you didn’t hear it from me. If you come back and make nonsense—”

  Elke held up both hands. “I didn’t hear it from you.”

  ¤¤¤

  Elke found a sheltered spot and took out some of the things she’d bought so far—a small mirror and a pad of flesh-coloured makeup. The makeup didn’t really match her skin but a few dabs of it concealed the teardrop tattoo on her cheek. She was already wearing a baggy, grey-green shirt that she’d bought at another stall, as well as the scarf that would hopefully hide her horns.

  That will have to do for a disguise. Now for Miss Ursula’s.

  The shop was about half an hour’s walk away, tucked in behind a stack of old container cans.

  Elke paused out of sight of the entrance, watching. Her hand reached automatically for Meisje, but of course the gardag wasn’t there. It felt strange to be out, alone, in the chaotic spaces of the city. Argent will know I’m gone by now. At least she’d made sure that Meisje was well out of his reach, whatever else happened.

  A bell tinkled as Elke pushed open the door and two men, sitting at the counter playing cards, turned to look at her.

  “Yes?” The larger of the two got to his feet. He was tall and broad and so dark skinned she struggled to make out his features in the dim light.

  “Hey.” Elke stayed just inside the door where she’d be clearly visible. “I was told you guys might be able to help me.”

  “That depends.” The man moved closer to the cash register. “What do you need?”

  “Survival gear. Camping stuff. And maybe a scope, or binoculars?” Elke moved over to the counter.

  The man bent down and pressed a button. The counter display lit up, displaying row upon row of weapons laid out under the thick glass. Elke stared, fascinated. There were ancient revolvers that belonged in a museum display, right next to sleek needle guns with the latest scope attachments. Ncita had told her about this place but she’d thought he’d been exaggerating.

  “You can pay, I hope,” said the man. “We don’t do credit.”

  “You do camping gear as well, don’t you?”

  He gestured to the back of the shop. “That’s all down there.”

  Elke tore herself reluctantly from the display of weapons and went to the shelf he’d pointed out. She quickly found what she needed. A compact camping stove, a set of nesting pots, a neat little water filter, a bio-toilet box, a light-weight blanket, some cutlery, and several packets of dehydrated food and biscuits. She piled these on the counter, glancing at the weapons again. That little crossbow would be useful.

  “How much?” she asked, pointing.

  “Ten clippers.”

  Elke winced. That would use up most of her cash and she’d have to buy the quarrels too, or make them, which would take time.

  “Want to try it out?” said the man. “We have a range around the back. Or maybe there’s something else here you’d like to try?”

  “Uh.” Elke scanned the row of weapons again. She was going into an unknown situation, into what was almost certainly an ambush. It would be comforting to have more than her boot knife for protection.

  “How about these.” She pointed at a set of binoculars.

  “Eight tigers.”

  Elke pulled at her lip. She could buy both the crossbow and the binoculars but that would use up nearly all her money.

  The crossbow would be a comfort. But feeling safe is exactly what I don’t need. Getting all confident because I have some pop-gun in my belt. What was it Ncita used to say? “Confident, careless, and dead.”

  She’d promised herself she’d never carry that kind of weapon again. The last time she’d fired a gun was still burned into her memory and brought her out of her sleep in breathless nightmares.

  “Can I try these?” She tapped the glass over the binoculars.

  The binoculars were old but powerful and they were obviously of high quality. She even managed to bargain the man down a little. He offered an even better deal if she took the crossbow as well but she shook her head reluctantly.

  “Not this time.”

  “You know where we are, if you change your mind,” the man said as he helped to pack her purchases into her bag.

  ¤¤¤

  An hour later she was back at the abandoned bus shelter where she’d spent the previous night, and where she’d left Meisje to wait for her. Meisje was glad to see her, and equally glad to eat the tub of chicken mince Elke had bought.

  “Enjoy it while you can, girl.” Elke pulled on the thin plastic gloves. “That’s probably going to be the nicest meal you’ll have for a while.” She squeezed some of the black dye into a gloved palm as Meisje licked the very last bits of meat from the bowl. “Come here, girl. Let’s darken you up a bit.”

  Working the dye through Meisje’s fur helped to calm her. So far everything was going according to plan. Getting out of the Eye had been easier than she’d feared. She hadn’t even needed the cover story she’d thought up, of having to do some chore for Dolly in Kaapstadt. The customs officials had simply inspected her papers and waved her through
the portal.

  They’ll be looking for us by now, and this disguise isn’t going to be any use if I hang around here much longer.

  She made Meisje turn and sit so that she could rub dye on her chest.

  With the supplies she’d bought this morning, she and Meisje could survive for several weeks. The food would run out sooner than that, but she was confident of her ability to live off the land, especially in a coastal area like the Muara.

  “We’ll head straight for the Muara.” She smoothed the dye over Meisje’s face and muzzle, working carefully to keep it away from her eyes, smiling as the gardag let out a speaking groan. Meisje hated being fussed over.

  “Shush, hold still.” Elke worked the dye all the way along the gardag’s lips and over her muzzle. “I could ask around town, see if I can figure out who it was who informed on me, but that will leave a trail a mile wide. Close your eyes now.” She didn’t dare rub the dye directly on Meisje’s eyelids, so she worked it carefully around them, leaving a narrow band of white fur. “So the plan is to find Skyler Moraes. Get to her, get to the bottom of this whole thing. There.” She put the lid back on the tube of dye. “All finished now.”

  Elke pulled off the gloves, careful not to get any of the black stuff on her skin. Meisje looked at her accusingly, a black dog with a reverse bandit-mask of white around her eyes.

  Elke couldn’t help smiling. “Well, you certainly look different. No! Don’t roll.”

  Meisje gave an exasperated huff and Elke turned her face away as the dog shook herself, spattering the interior of the shelter with a fine spray of black dye.

  Elke balled the gloves and tucked them away in her pack. Unlikely as it was that they’d be tracked to the shelter, she didn’t plan on leaving anything behind that could be used to find them. Then she brought a map of Kaapstadt up on her retina display. It overlaid her view in a delicate tracery of silver and white. The Muara, she knew, was a coastal area to the north and west of Kaapstadt. She zoomed the map, centring it on a curve of coastline. Moraes had said she’d be at a circus, but Elke could find no mention of that anywhere on the map.