‘I—’
Emit sniggered at him. Vile man. ‘Your tutor, yeah, I remember. You going to lecture me on the name of the King of Chathe’s pet dog, next? Bloody odd place, this, though. Sumptuary laws … An Emperor’s an Emperor. He doesn’t need to wear a different colour to show it, I’d have thought. Sodding big crown and people grovelling before him should be enough of a clue.’
Old lessons. Repeated until he could chant them off by heart as a child. ‘The way power works is more complicated here. The Asekemlene Emperor and his court control the bureaucracy of the Empire. Or did, rather, there not being an Empire any more to speak of. The great families control the wealth and the land. The Nithque to the Emperor liaises between the two. The sumptuary laws … I don’t know, they mark out the difference. The great families hate the Emperor. The Emperor hates the great families. The Emperor wears black because the great families want to outshine him. Or the great families aren’t allowed to wear black to show how much lower they are than the Emperor, who doesn’t need the false trappings of money to show his power and prestige. One or the other. Maybe both. If anyone ever knew exactly why, it was forgotten centuries ago.’ Marith rubbed his face wearily and drained his drink. Glanced hopefully over at Emit’s cup. It was still more than half full.
‘Still odd, if you ask me. Emperors should wear cloth of gold. And it’s the Yellow Empire. The Yellow Emperor. Why’s he called the Yellow Emperor, if he wears black all the time?’
Oh gods. Marith remembered his tutor laughing at him for asking the same question. He’d been five or six at the time. ‘I think it’s not quite as simple as that.’ ‘Not quite as simple’ as in ‘a joke’. Sekemlenet: golden dawn light. Yellow: so cowardly you’re scared to fight. He said casually, ‘I’ll get some more drinks.’
Emit laughed. ‘There was me thinking you were a lightweight boy, Marith. No, we should be going.’
Damn. ‘It wouldn’t hurt. Just another one.’
Emit frowned at him. ‘It’s Company money and we’re on Company business. And Tobias’ll have us whipped if we fuck up again.’ Got up and headed for the door.
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Misjudged the man. Marith gazed around the room with longing eyes. No point in trying to slip away, Emit would be after him in a moment. Emit didn’t trust him. Didn’t like him. He’d put him on his guard now, too.
They walked south in a rambling fashion, looking at the shops and the crowds. Marith had the map. Slowly, cautiously, he began to lead them away from the larger streets, back towards the squalid quarter they’d stumbled into yesterday. That had been a stroke of luck, now he thought about it. A good and hopeful place. He had a good memory for directions. The streets became dirtier and more run down, the air dustier. He lowered the map. Stared around him. Tried to look afraid.
‘We’re lost,’ he said.
‘What?’ Emit said stupidly. He stared about in turn. ‘Oh fuck. Fuck, Marith, you stupid bastard. Not again.’ He bent forward to grab the map from Marith’s hands. Marith pulled his knife out from under it. Pressed it into Emit’s gut, just under the ribs, breaking the skin.
‘What the hell—?’
‘Stay perfectly still and don’t make a sound.’ Marith pressed a little harder. Felt Emit flinch. ‘If you try to shout or break away, I’ll stab you. Understand? Now walk.’
He guided Emit into a narrow alleyway. Dark. Cold even in the warmth of a sunny morning. The corpse of a cat lay stretched out near the entrance, writhing with maggots. Blank walls leaned together overhead, blocking out the light. Didn’t look like much came in here. Didn’t look like much left. He pushed Emit up against a wall. The brickwork was crumbling. Stank. Dust and mildew and rot grinding into Emit’s face. He kicked Emit hard in the back of the knees and pushed him to the ground. Looked down at him and smiled. Emit looked back up.
‘Don’t say anything.’ He knelt down and placed the knife against Emit’s throat. ‘This is going to hurt. A lot. And then you’ll die. Are you ready?’
Emit made a horrible whimpering sound, deep in his throat.
Marith drove the knife in.
Emit screamed. And then he was dead.
He’d sworn to kill the man, Marith remembered. Only a few days ago, though it felt like months now. Maybe Emit had even deserved it. But … but …
But nothing, he thought then. I killed him. It doesn’t matter whether he deserved it or not. I killed him and now he’s dead.
I’m sorry, Emit, he thought.
He wiped his hands on Emit’s nice new shirt and walked back out of the alley, stepping neatly over the dead cat. Glanced at the map and began to walk hurriedly. The streets were becoming more and more run down, the flagstones of the road broken and overgrown with weeds, the buildings dilapidated and decayed. The air stank. Dog shit and human shit and rotting filth. Nervous excitement building within him. Please. Oh, please. A group of children stared out at him from a doorway, then came out at a run behind him, throwing stones and dirt. A lump of something hit him on the back. He walked on hurriedly, barely noticing.
He came to a small square, centred on an ugly statue of a man holding a sword. A dead dog lay below the statue. Two girls played in the bowl of a broken fountain, splashing and laughing, their skirts soaked. A young woman came out of a boarded-up house, gaudily dressed in faded, mismatched clothes. She walked slowly around the edge of the square, holding on to the walls with her hands as if she was blind. Turned her head towards Marith for a moment and her face was covered in scratch-marks, raw red lines spiralling out from her eyes and mouth. Oh gods. He almost fell. Please. Oh please. Her head twitched and she raised her hand to rub at her eyes. Black fire on her skin, burning. Black flames on old stone. Shaking, he walked over to her. Finally. Finally. Finally. Please. Please. Please.
The woman stared at him. The whites of her eyes were yellow and blood-shot, her pupils mismatched. One hugely dilated, the other a pinprick of black. Marith stared back at her. Oh gods. Oh gods. So close. Please. He fumbled in the purse Tobias had given him and produced a gold talent.
‘Hatha?’ Hard to speak, he was so on edge. ‘You know where to get hatha? Quickly? Now?’
She frowned. Sighed. ‘Nobody. Nobody has hatha. Not for days now. Plague in Chathe, they say. Nobody has it.’ Her hands jerked, rubbing at her face. Fresh blood welled up as the scabs cracked. ‘Nobody.’
No. No, no, no … A void in his mind. Blank dark. No. Oh gods, no. No. Fire in his head, screaming. No. He stared hopelessly at the woman. Kill her, he thought. Kill her. I can’t go on. Not after yesterday. Not any more. Kill her. Make her hurt. It’s not fair … Not fair. Please … Help me …
‘Are you sure? I have gold. I can pay well.’ His voice shook.