He lead her deeper into a more shadowy, more quiet region under a vast collection of cracking towers where the lights burning on the pipes bathed the narrow streets with a blue and white lambence. Mushrooms grew underfoot, thick and heavy enough to trip on. Puffballs exploded all around her, their dusty spores staining her pant cuffs. A wooden construction, more like a tiny medieval fort than a house, stood at the end of the road, blocking further progress. Its windows were narrow slits'perfect for firing weapons out of while protecting those within. A parapet lined its roof, a place where a squad of rifles could dominate the entire street, turn it into a killzone. Ayaan wondered why she'd been brought there.
A curtain flicked open in one of the doors of the place and a woman stepped out into the street. She would have been beautiful, a collection of long angular limbs, high breasts, perfectly chiseled features. Someone had hurt her badly, though. Her skin was covered everywhere with identical thin red scars that disappeared down her cleavage and into the back of her halter top. They showed on her finely-turned legs and her muscular arms, even her face, even the curve of her shaved head was covered in the tiny cuts. Her body was a map of torture'prolonged, methodical, unkind. Her eyes showed a deep, cold intelligence that refused to let Ayaan see her as a victim, though. With a bad shudder Ayaan realized what that stare meant. The injured woman wanted Ayaan to know that it had been her decision, that she had chosen to be cut to ribbons.
'Vasya,' she said, 'this is her from Egypt, da? Which Semyon Iurevich said was coming.'
'Konyechno,'Vassily said, nodding eagerly. He was staring at the scarred woman as if he'd never seen a living female before. With disgust Ayaan saw real lust in his eyes. 'He said to bring her.'
The scarred woman nodded. 'This far, no farther. Our Lord sees her even now, is close enough.'
'Do you want me to do a little pirouette, so you can see my backside too?' Ayaan asked, surprising them all.
The scarred woman stepped closer. She smelled of expensive moisturizers and lotions. She had diamonds in her ear lobes. 'They say you killed one American koschei .' The Russian word for 'lich'. 'They say you're assassin, best one with a rifle.'
Damn. The one thing Ayaan had been counting on was anonymity. She hadn't personally killed Gary but she'd been part of his death. If the Tsarevich knew about that... well, he would keep her under close observation. He wasn't stupid.
'Take her to showplace, with others,' the scarred woman said, dismissing Vassily. The young man took Ayaan's arm and she let him guide her away. At least she'd learned something. They didn't want people getting past the mushroom-lined street. The fortification there spoke volumes. There had to be something behind it, behind the scarred woman. Ayaan figured that must be where the Tsarevich lived. She filed the fact away for future use.
Monster Planet
Chapter Eight
Lined up in rows the prisoners filed into the small amphitheater at the center of the refinery and plunked themselves down on the hard ground. The prisoners were seated in the round, leaving only a narrow aisle down to an impromptu stage. There were no seats or benches, just a conical depression with a wide metal drain in its center. An enamel bath tub stood near the drain, full of what looked like clean water, clearly part of the pageant about to unfurl. Would the Tsarevich come out and baptise each of them, maybe wash their feet?