its legs pointing lustily to the stars. The flies and insects dance merrily around it, the two lovers notice not. They stroll the catwalk above the great shipyard where hulks of unimaginable size are hammered out, oblivious to the chaos all around them, existing only for each other. Love can indeed exist in such a place as Carnassus, if only for a brief time, and if only after the exchange of an agreed sum.
And down below we find another budding relationship: two men have made it to the sanctuary of the carcass of a half-built warship, and the taller man – the one who looks like an angry warlock – has the smaller man – the one with the scars on his face – trussed upfrom a spar by a noose around his ankle. Let’s listen.
‘So well done, you caught me. You really must be a wizard.’
‘I … am not … a WIZARD!’ The old man stood and stretched to full height, his voice thundering off the steel husk.
‘OK, OK,’ said the boy pilot. ‘Don’t get us found again.’
‘Oh, they’ll be weeping for at least an hour more,’ Fabrigas replied as he showed his pilot the tiny brass jets that poked from the hem of his sleeve. ‘It’s a mild nerve gas which penetrates the membrane of the nose. It makes you see life through the eyes of others. Very useful. My box.’
‘So,’ said the Necronaut as he patted around for where he’d stashed the precious box, then handed it to Fabrigas who looked briefly at it before tossing it over his shoulder. They heard the brass spheres sing as they bounced away.
‘So,’ said the Necronaut.
‘It was not a map of the neighbouring universes. It was a pretty but worthless toy. To map another universe would be like trying to lick your own tongue. The idea is absurd.’
Lambestyo was still frozen in the motion of handing over the box, and his eyes had followed the merry orbs into the darkness. He returned both eyes to the old man, and Fabrigas took a step back.
‘A good captain is not just a pilot, boy, he is a bodyguard. I needed to test your skill and bravery. Both were adequate. And now I have you caught.’
‘Yes. When are you going to cut me down? My ankle is numb and the blood is going to my head.’
The pilot swung lazily from the spar.
‘Soon.’
‘So you knew that I would end up standing exactly where you placed the noose?’
‘Not exactly. I had 145 nooses placed at various locations around the port. The trick was to get you to throw your knives away.’
Lambestyo roughly adjusted his gun belts. ‘I see. Very clever. Howmuch meat are you, old man?’
‘I am 99.9 per cent flesh. I am immune to the Black Cloud and so have lost no organs to it. Like all of us I had a respirator implanted so I could breathe any gas, or no gas.’
‘I see. And so what will I be paid if I decide to take this mission?’
‘I have not offered you this mission.’
‘But you should. I saved your life, after all.’
‘I see you are as tall as your memory. If you remember, in the end, I saved you.’
‘Well. Let’s call it a draw. It was a close shave.’ He rubbed his chin.
‘I suppose it was,’ said Fabrigas. He looked out into space where the columns of sloops and galleons faded among the fuzz of shining spheres. Today certainly wasn’t his closest shave ever. It wasn’t even his closest shave in recent weeks. A month ago he’d been to a place a thousand times more terrifying, a thousand times more deadly, than the Airport of Carnassus.
Coarse the sea-net roof
Sheltering this honest shack
Within the mighty airport we have built.
And my sleeves grow wet
With the moisture dripping through the holes.
Poem of an emperor upon visiting Carnassus. Date unknown.
THE DREAM AGE
Fabrigas had risen from a sea of dreams, dripping with excitement, on the morning of the day he was to meet the Queen. He had been astonished when he was informed that he would finally have an audience. It was hard to say how long he’d waited in his small room with its narrow bed, a
And down below we find another budding relationship: two men have made it to the sanctuary of the carcass of a half-built warship, and the taller man – the one who looks like an angry warlock – has the smaller man – the one with the scars on his face – trussed upfrom a spar by a noose around his ankle. Let’s listen.
‘So well done, you caught me. You really must be a wizard.’
‘I … am not … a WIZARD!’ The old man stood and stretched to full height, his voice thundering off the steel husk.
‘OK, OK,’ said the boy pilot. ‘Don’t get us found again.’
‘Oh, they’ll be weeping for at least an hour more,’ Fabrigas replied as he showed his pilot the tiny brass jets that poked from the hem of his sleeve. ‘It’s a mild nerve gas which penetrates the membrane of the nose. It makes you see life through the eyes of others. Very useful. My box.’
‘So,’ said the Necronaut as he patted around for where he’d stashed the precious box, then handed it to Fabrigas who looked briefly at it before tossing it over his shoulder. They heard the brass spheres sing as they bounced away.
‘So,’ said the Necronaut.
‘It was not a map of the neighbouring universes. It was a pretty but worthless toy. To map another universe would be like trying to lick your own tongue. The idea is absurd.’
Lambestyo was still frozen in the motion of handing over the box, and his eyes had followed the merry orbs into the darkness. He returned both eyes to the old man, and Fabrigas took a step back.
‘A good captain is not just a pilot, boy, he is a bodyguard. I needed to test your skill and bravery. Both were adequate. And now I have you caught.’
‘Yes. When are you going to cut me down? My ankle is numb and the blood is going to my head.’
The pilot swung lazily from the spar.
‘Soon.’
‘So you knew that I would end up standing exactly where you placed the noose?’
‘Not exactly. I had 145 nooses placed at various locations around the port. The trick was to get you to throw your knives away.’
Lambestyo roughly adjusted his gun belts. ‘I see. Very clever. Howmuch meat are you, old man?’
‘I am 99.9 per cent flesh. I am immune to the Black Cloud and so have lost no organs to it. Like all of us I had a respirator implanted so I could breathe any gas, or no gas.’
‘I see. And so what will I be paid if I decide to take this mission?’
‘I have not offered you this mission.’
‘But you should. I saved your life, after all.’
‘I see you are as tall as your memory. If you remember, in the end, I saved you.’
‘Well. Let’s call it a draw. It was a close shave.’ He rubbed his chin.
‘I suppose it was,’ said Fabrigas. He looked out into space where the columns of sloops and galleons faded among the fuzz of shining spheres. Today certainly wasn’t his closest shave ever. It wasn’t even his closest shave in recent weeks. A month ago he’d been to a place a thousand times more terrifying, a thousand times more deadly, than the Airport of Carnassus.
Coarse the sea-net roof
Sheltering this honest shack
Within the mighty airport we have built.
And my sleeves grow wet
With the moisture dripping through the holes.
Poem of an emperor upon visiting Carnassus. Date unknown.
THE DREAM AGE
Fabrigas had risen from a sea of dreams, dripping with excitement, on the morning of the day he was to meet the Queen. He had been astonished when he was informed that he would finally have an audience. It was hard to say how long he’d waited in his small room with its narrow bed, a
Similar Books
