urs Chalph gazing anxiously at him from behind the ex-parson.
‘Jethro softbody,’ Boxiron’s voicebox crackled into operation. ‘Is this what I’m for?’
Jethro helped him break the connection to the battlement’s control machinery and gently shook his head. ‘It’s only the smallest part, old steamer.’
The steamman allowed the two of them to help steady him until he found his sense of balance again. ‘Then by the beard of Zaka of the Cylinders, why am I so good at it?’
Jethro and Boxiron had nearly reached their hotel in the central vaults of Hermetica City, when a group of large, black-leather-clad ursine soldiers stopped them. Jethro’s first thought was that their foray into the police militia’s records had been detected and tracked back to them, followed a second later by the realization this couldn’t be the case. Given the rivalry between the senate’s mercenary army and the police militia, the ursine thugs were the last people the police would turn to.
Jethro and his steamman friend found themselves politely – but firmly – being escorted back to the surface. Not through the air vents, but up into the Horn of Jago, then out along stone corridors that belonged to the fortifications and mortar positions at the foot of the mountain, past the green-tinged farm domes, and finally into a metal-walled guard complex that joined the battlements. There were plenty of free company fighters from Pericur inside the complex, but no sign of Chalph urs Chalph. If Jethro and his steamman friend were about to be punished for their break-in, surely they would have dragged the young ursine here to share their fate? The mercenaries stood back as first Jethro, then Boxiron were forced to enter a vertical passage and climb a ladder inside to the top of the wall.
Jethro drew a silent breath of relief as he saw First Senator Silvermain standing on the insulated walkway of the battlement’s parapet. He was gazing down the sloped iron walls, the smell of ozone strong from the deadly charge flowing down the barrier. Little forks of electric energy rippled over the surface, angry green serpents where the steam mists rolling across the ground outside stimulated the killing charge into visibility.
‘Our friends,’ the First Senator called loudly, seeing Jethro emerging out onto the parapet. ‘Our clever Jackelian soul mate and his loyal servant.’
‘Your Excellency,’ acknowledged Jethro, giving a little bow.
‘Just the fellow,’ said the First Senator. ‘How is your search for the conspirators progressing? Has Jago’s evil cabal proved a match for your fierce intellect?’
‘It continues by-and-by. Early days, I fear,’ said Jethro. He reached into his pocket and drew a bag of boiled sweets out. ‘Can I offer you a Bunter and Benger’s aniseed drop?’
‘My food taster is not here. Do not underestimate those who would rob us of our bright, shining age,’ warned the First Senator, waving the proffered bag of sweets away. ‘Their minds are cunning and their hearts are riddled with the sickness of sedition.’ He leered at the steamman. ‘What of you, strange creature of the metal? Have you found the enemy yet?’
‘I have a simple attitude to such matters,’ replied Boxiron. ‘I wait for my enemy to reveal himself, then I strike him down.’
‘An admirably straightforward method, yes, but the enemy’s daggers will not bounce off our skin as well as they would off your hull plating,’ laughed the First Senator. ‘You will both benefit from seeing the foe at first hand, we believe.’ The First Senator signalled to his senatorial rod carrier and the elaborately liveried servant stepped forward and inserted the ruler’s staff of office into a control socket in the battlement’s floor. ‘Open the doors!’ commanded the First Senator, ‘and send out the prisoners.’
Slipping open a panel on the side of the gold staff, the servant revealed a line of keys, and sent the order to the machines that controlled the battlement systems. Jethro heard a rusty-sounding ratcheting as a concealed door in the battlements opened, a ramp extending down to the black rock in front of the wall.
Stumbling out across the ramp and onto the dark, mist-shrouded plain below, a group of seven Jagonese were roughly shoved out into the wilderness. They milled around looking confused for a second while the light from the door disappeared behind them. The ramp was pulling back, the door closing.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Jethro. ‘There are women and children down there…’
‘They look the same as other citizens, don’t they?’ said the First Senator. ‘But they’re not. That’s what you’re up against