Part 1 (1/2)

Secrets of the Fire Sea.

by Stephen Hunt.

CHAPTER ONE.

The Isle of Jago. Hermetica City.

Watching the underwater craft carrying the amba.s.sador away from Jago's sh.o.r.es was as good a way as any to pa.s.s the afternoon, if you could ignore the distant thrum of the iron battlements keeping the hordes of prowling monsters out of Hermetica City.

Hannah turned as her friend Chalph joined her near the edge of the tall cliffs. Not so near the edge that she might be scalded by the boiling water las.h.i.+ng up from the Fire Sea, but near enough to glimpse the departing amba.s.sador's u-boat on the surface. The u-boat was meeting up with the Jagonese tug that had been a.s.signed to escort it beyond the coral line, before it braved the maze of boiling pa.s.sages of water that veined their way through the bubbling magma of the Fire Sea.

'They've picked a good day for going,' said Chalph, raising his black-furred arm to point to the u-boat on the surface, guide lines being tossed across to the tug. The sailors were wearing rubber scald suits, coloured yellow for visibility. 'No steam storms today and I can't smell any cold fronts moving in.'

'That's a pity,' said Hannah. She loved the violence of the arctic rain hitting the superheated waters of the Fire Sea and the parched coastlines of Jago. She felt alive when steam storms broke across the island's sh.o.r.es, geysers erupting from the ocean, hot mists sliding across the basalts plains, lightning painting the landscape and the crack of thunder urging the monsters laying siege outside their battlements into a frenzy. Hannah felt more alive in a storm than she ever did down in the empty echoing streets of their capital's vaults.

Chalph rubbed at his face with a paw-like hand. Like the rest of the ursine race, he had wonderfully expressive eyes pupils that could narrow to a pinhead or expand out until the rim of yellow around the edges was driven out and the features of his face vanished in a mask of black. 'I wonder how long I've got left on Jago now that the amba.s.sador has gone?'

A blade of fear stabbed Hannah. That Chalph urs Chalph might depart back to his country across the sea, leaving her as good as friendless on the island. 'But you've been brought up here, the same as me. Your house can't just make you go back to Pericur.'

'Oh, they can can, alright,' said Chalph. 'Why do you think our amba.s.sador is leaving? She supported the claim of the archd.u.c.h.ess to the throne of Pericur. The amba.s.sador being recalled back home is her reward. Our conservatives don't like merchants operating on Jago. They believe Jago is sacred soil, that our trade here is an affront to the scriptures. You wait and see. The trade concession the House of Ush had been granted will be cancelled by the new archd.u.c.h.ess, then we'll all be back on Pericurian soil within the year.'

'But I'll still be here,' said Hannah. 'We'll be here. The race of man...' be here. The race of man...'

Chalph moved back as a spray of boiling water carried on the wind and hissed towards his boots. 'The archd.u.c.h.ess won't need to force your people from the island.' He clambered over a boulder and pointed to the nearest of the guard towers rising up behind the sloped iron battlements. A large ursine mercenary was just visible inside, the light glinting off the bra.s.s of the gas tank on his back.

'Careful,' said Hannah. 'The soldiers might see us, report us for being out on the surface.'

'They don't care we're here,' replied Chalph. 'They get paid for keeping the monsters out, not keeping us in. And that's the nub of it. Your senate relies on our free company fighters to keep the capital safe, not your police militia. The free company may be mercenaries, but they will not dare disobey a direct order from the archd.u.c.h.ess to leave Jago, and then who will protect your city?'

Hannah shrugged. 'The militia hate your mercenaries. They never wanted free company fighters here, that was the senate's choice. They'd throw a party on the docks and help load your mercenaries into a boat if the free company were ordered off Jago.'

'And your senate would widen the draft to make up the numbers,' said Chalph. 'Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a guard tower, hoping that the power charging the battlements doesn't fail on your watch?'

'It won't come to that,' said Hannah. But she knew how optimistic her words sounded even as she spoke them. There were press gangs operating across the city now, and even the senate's latest raft of anti-emigration legislation wasn't going to fill all the empty vacancies in every trade from the tug service to clerks for the ministries. 'In the cathedral they're saying that the new amba.s.sador from Pericur is going to be one of your modernizers. He'll argue against any attempt to embargo Jago.'

'Of course he's a modernizer,' laughed Chalph although there was little humour in his growl of a voice. 'Jago's been a dead-end posting for emba.s.sy staff for centuries. The new amba.s.sador is being sent here as a punishment! He was amba.s.sador to the Kingdom of Jackals before. A bit of a demotion, don't you think? From the most powerful nation in the world to this cold, dying place.'

'How can you say that, Chalph? You were born here!'

'You weren't,' said Chalph. 'You should go home. Go anywhere there's a future for you.'

'This is my home.'

'No,' Chalph insisted. 'The Kingdom of Jackals is your real home, this is just where you ended up.'

Hannah shook her head. 'Jago is all I've known.'

'It's all I've known too,' said Chalph. 'But there's more out there than this place.' Chalph picked up a piece of rock and angrily tossed it in the direction of the Horn of Jago, the vast peak rising up behind them out of a cl.u.s.ter of the capital's domed greenhouses. He threw the stone as if he might break one of the tall stained-gla.s.s windows along the senatorial palace circling the mountain. Hannah winced as the flare-house at the very top of the summit erupted with magnesium phosph.o.r.escence. A brief flash of light to help guide in the traders that had long ago stopped calling on the island.

'It's just that I don't want you to go back to Pericur,' said Hannah, trying to placate her quick-tempered friend. 'Alice says there might be war between Pericur and the Kingdom of Jackals now there's a new archd.u.c.h.ess sitting on your throne.'

'War? No, that's foolish talk. I'm sure the archd.u.c.h.ess would be happier if the Kingdom's colonies disappeared from our southern border, but traditionalist though our new baronial council may be, they understand well enough the power of the Kingdom's Royal Aerostatical Navy. The archd.u.c.h.ess might close the border and hope the rest of the world goes away, but she won't be invading Jackelian possessions anytime soon. Your people have airs.h.i.+ps, mine don't.'

'The Jagonese are my people,' said Hannah.

'Your parents were both Jackelian,' said Chalph. 'The senate can't stop you leaving the island. You have a choice, at least. More of a choice than I have. I'm bonded in service to the House of Ush. I go where the baroness sends me, just like the baroness has to trade where the archd.u.c.h.ess sells her the charter to operate. But you, you can travel to the Kingdom, to Concorzia, go to the Catosian city-states if the fancy takes you. But all you do is stay here. You're wasting your life away on this island.'

'It doesn't feel like a waste to me.'

'It should do,' said Chalph. He pulled out a large Pericurian timepiece from a pocket in the heavy dark leather clothes that were the fas.h.i.+on among his nation. 'You're the cleverest person I know, but you're surely one of the laziest too. The entrance exam is beginning now. You're meant to be back at the cathedral, not watching steam shapes above the ocean.'

'Yes,' sighed Hannah, 'I suppose I am.' She pointed at one of the clouds of mist leaping up off the sea. 'That one's a lion.'

Chalph responded to the game and pointed at another wall of steaming mist rolling up behind the first. 'And look, that one's my future. Come on, let's see if we can't find you one too.'

It was a measure of how determined Chalph was to secure a life for Hannah off Jago that he had personally come to fetch her back to the cathedral. Ursine might be more or less the same height as their counterparts in the race of man, but the dense flesh and thick muscles of the bear-like people meant that a citizen of Pericur usually weighed twice as much as a similarly sized human. And Chalph urs Chalph had dragged his weight up every rung lining the air vent before wrestling open the heavy armoured door that opened out over the black cliffs of Jago.

Now both Hannah and Chalph had to descend hundreds of rungs back down to the subterranean city without slipping always tricky the nearer you got to the surface; where the heat from the Fire Sea made sweaty, slippery hands or paws an occupational hazard when gripping the ladder. Ventilation pa.s.sage ninety-two was a long way from the cathedral too, close to the submarine pens of the docks like the rest of the capital, deep underground in the city's machine-hewn vaults. But vent ninety-two's isolation had an advantage. It was Hannah Conquest's favourite way up to the surface. Without a single u-boat sitting moored in the underground pens among the hundreds of tugs waiting unmanned for trade that would probably never return to the island, there were rarely any adults around to see Hannah emerging from the vent shaft and report her to the police militia. It wasn't so much that people feared Hannah and her friends might fall and break their necks though that was often the stated concern that forbade them to leave the city it was the fear that a careless child might leave open an armoured door up top, allowing in one of the beasts from the island's cold interior.

Down below it was just as she had expected. Hannah and Chalph emerged from the vent watched only by the dark, empty eyes of pa.s.sages that led to the underground water locks and lifting rooms up to the sea-bed. There were no tug crew about the docks; most of the sailors would be back home, drawing half-pay while their fire-breaker vessels sat equally idle tied up around the pens. Guiding the Pericurian amba.s.sador's u-boat out through the Fire Sea was a rare flurry of activity for the service this morning.

It was a long way back home through the Eliza Vaults a lonely walk past empty warehouses and boarded-up taverns and guesthouses for sailors that no longer visited Jago's sh.o.r.es, before Hannah and Chalph began to pa.s.s through the more inhabited parts of the capital, each vault larger than the last as they followed the connected chambers towards the heart of Hermetica City. The two friends travelled on foot, ignoring the cries from gondolas drifting along the city's ca.n.a.ls. Chalph was a junior apprentice in an increasingly impoverished foreign merchant house and Hannah a ward of the church, and neither had the little platinum pennies that a gondola owner would demand for a quick ride towards the cathedral.

It seemed to Hannah as if they had crossed every one of capital's arched bridges by the time the waters widened out into the Grand Ca.n.a.l, and here at least Hermetica City still felt like a metropolis. Noise. Smells. Activity. People about the arcaded pa.s.sages of shops, colonnaded walks that were still polished and cleaned by the district's workers. People, it was always people that made a place. Little private skiffs moving down the ca.n.a.l, paddles turning under the power of chemical batteries with the whiff of eggs about them. Large oared barges moored for use as restaurants along the ca.n.a.l walls, bored kitchen staff leaning out of the windows to talk to idle gondola men. Hawkers' cries filling the air, knife-grinding for a penny a blade, pig gelders offering their services to the increasing numbers of people keeping livestock in their ca.n.a.l-side houses and apartments. Not trusting to the scant food supplies coming down from the greenhouses on the surface, not now so many of their labourers had left for the fertile wheat plains of Concorzia. Where once civilization had cl.u.s.tered around the warm coastline of Jago as the glaciers moved south and enveloped the world under white sheets of ice, now the islanders were themselves clinging ever tighter to the noise and din of each other, leaving the fringes of their capital to the water rats, cavern bamboo and the shadows of their ancient glory.

Even the roof of the subterranean vaults seemed to burn brighter in the centre of the city, the diode plates s.h.i.+mmering above in an approximation of the sun the mist-shrouded island's surface hardly ever saw, especially now, in the winter. Though the seasons mattered little to the Jagonese; not with their flash steam systems, powered by the underground water table warmed by volcanic action within, and the Fire Sea without. If only the island had more people. They could continue to live on Jago for another two thousand years the machinations of the Archd.u.c.h.ess of Pericur and the rising power of her nation on the opposite side of the Fire Sea be d.a.m.ned.

It wasn't long before Hannah and Chalph reached the largest and, some said, most elegantly carved vault in the city, the vast circular cavern of the Seething Round. Here, flanking the grand ca.n.a.l, buildings stood as high as twenty storeys, sash windows sparkling as brightly as jewels. And there at its centre, Jago Cathedral, the Grand Ca.n.a.l surrounding it like a moat, spanned by three bridges leading across to its chambers. The largest bridge the south lay opposite the steps leading up into the Horn of Jago itself, the mountain long ago hollowed out like a termite mound for the richest vaults and streets of the capital, topped by the senate and capped at its summit by their flare-house. Yes, the light of Jago had once burned with far more than the Fire Sea's red glow reflected from its basalt cliffs. For those who ruled the city below from high inside the mountain, it probably seemed as if nothing had changed and even Hannah, at her tender age, could see that that was part of the problem.

There were extra priests and vergers standing at all three bridges across to the cathedral now. Last month, Jago Cathedral had been broken into at night and the altar raided for silver, its collection boxes smashed. The crime no doubt perpetrated by would-be emigrants desperate to sc.r.a.pe together enough coins to bribe the harbour workers to look the other way when the next supply vessel docked.

Hannah chose the smallest bridge to try to sneak across to the cathedral, but Chalph's heavy six-foot figure following behind her was unmissable. A tonsured priest sucked on his teeth in a disapproving way as they pa.s.sed. 'You may be late, Damson Conquest, but I can't be letting your friend into the cathedral.'

'Because he's ursine?'

'Because he's a believer, miss. In the scriptures of Pericur, unless you've renounced your faith, Chalph urs Chalph?'

'My house may be of a reforming bent,' said Chalph, 'but I don't believe we're ready to renounce the scripture of the Divine Quad quite yet. Atheists are treated less kindly in my nation than in yours.'

'Then you and your faith shall stay on this side of our good Circlist dwelling, my fine-furred wet-snout friend, while young Hannah can go and make her apologies to the archbishop for an appointment ill-kept.'

Chalph glanced knowingly at Hannah, who was looking annoyed that the priest had used the insulting Jagonese name for an ursine: wet-snout wet-snout indeed. 'This place is just like the rest of Jago, it's a relic. You remember what you're going inside there for...it's your future.' indeed. 'This place is just like the rest of Jago, it's a relic. You remember what you're going inside there for...it's your future.'

She shrugged. 'I'll meet you out in the park later. We'll see what the future looks like then.'

Hannah walked inside. Jago Cathedral wasn't a relic to her, it was home home. Wheel windows a hundred feet across painted the nave of the cathedral with brightly coloured illumination, much of it speckled by lines of formulae traced across each stained gla.s.s light. Formulae had always been important to the Circlist church the church without a G.o.d. Some of them were scientific, outlining the known building blocks of creation. Others were the proofs and balances of synthetic morality equations that proved society worked best when people worked together, that kindness to the weak was a thing of glory, to do unto others as you would have done unto you. The quant.i.tative proof for the qualitative teachings of Circlism. Hannah's eyes flicked across the stained gla.s.s. There, the elegant proof for the parable of the clear mind openness of mind versus the infective vectors of a faith-based meme. Every koan and parable taught by the church was represented, through both equations and sublime rainbow-coloured images. Of all Jago's arts, stained gla.s.s was the most celebrated: as was attested to by the double-lancet windows as tall as the cathedral's spires, which adorned the island's most important building, the senatorial palace.