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As the candle flickered into life, its light gleamed from Reqaui’s carvings that Corvus had placed on a narrow shelf that ran the length of the crawlspace. There were all kinds of animals and birds, some complete, others just heads or faces. Each seemed a grotesque parody of the creatures locked inside Corvus’s head, but Reqaui assured him that they were real, true-to-life representations of mutant creatures that dwelled in the slime pools, acid grottos and sprawling enzyme marshes of Kiavahr.
Corvus wondered much about this world. He had seen it several times through the armorplex windows on the transit galleries, like a red and blue eye glaring up at Lycaeus. Manrus had explained that Lycaeus was a prison, on a moon orbiting Kiavahr. The first prisoners had been sent here centuries ago, for speaking out against the coronation of the Fourth Dynasty. Then the mineral deposits had been discovered, and more and more were found guilty of dissent and sentenced to work to death in the burgeoning mines.
That much Corvus had understood, even if Manrus had spelled it out in no uncertain terms that such political imprisonment was immoral. To remove one’s enemies made sense to Corvus, especially if they could be turned to a more profitable endeavour. It was the condemnation of the families that Corvus had not fully understood. Again, he could perhaps justify the imprisonment of those related to the first agitators and demagogues, because there would be grounds to suspect a criminal’s beliefs might be shared by those around him. What stretched Corvus’s comprehension was the continued internment of those born and raised in the mines.
The people of Lycaeus were no longer just prisoners, they were a colony, of families and children, whose entire lives would be spent in the stuffy false atmosphere contained by the energy domes and mineworks. No child could be accused of insurrection, surely?
Manrus had explained carefully that Lycaeus was a prison only in name now. It was a slave factory, its purpose to provide resources for the great manufactories of the world below. That had made Corvus angry, especially when Manrus had revealed that only a few hundred members of the tech-guilds, the descendants of the old Colleges, benefited from the mass industrialisation. Manrus considered this deeply unfair, and therefore so too did Corvus.
Corvus listened to the guards above shouting for the prisoners to stand in the corridor for inspection as he crawled along the narrow tu
The candle flame flickered slightly as someone moved across the false flag above. There was a strange hollow thump and Corvus froze, realising he had not replaced it properly. There was a confused exchange between the guards and two further stamps on the offending slab.
Corvus blew out the light and retreated to the far end of the hideaway, some three metres from the entrance. There was a scraping noise as a knife was inserted into the narrow gap between the flag and its neighbours.
Bunching his muscles, Corvus formed his hands into fists and bared his teeth, ready to slay those who could discover him. He must not be found. Over and over, from everyone through whose wardship he had passed, he had been told this: do not be found. He was an anomaly, something beyond the understanding of the Kiavahrans. If they discovered him, he would be taken away.
Corvus did not want to be taken away. He had friends here. Friends like Ephrenia and Manrus and Reqaui.
The slab lifted up and the beam of a flashlight flickered around the tu
‘What have we here?’ said one of the guards, ducking his head into the opening.
Corvus shrank back as far as he could, pressing himself against the jagged rock wall, eyes narrowed. The beam of the torch moved towards him and stopped when it reached the shelf of sculptures.
‘Seems Raqaui’s been up to his scrimshawing again,’ said the guard. Corvus did not detect much malice in the man’s tone.
‘Leave it be,’ said another voice from above. ‘It does no harm. More paperwork for us if we report it.’
‘I don’t know,’ said the guard squatting above the hole. ‘It is contraband, and if someone else finds it, we’ll be up for penal shifts, or worse.’
‘Let me see.’
The guard moved away and his helmeted head was replaced by another, this time with the silver strip across the nose guard that signified a wing corporal. He flashed the torch around some more, the beam of light coming to rest directly on Corvus.
The youth tensed every muscle, ready to leap forwards and tear off the corporal’s head the moment he tried to raise the alarm.
To Corvus’s amazement, the corporal said nothing. He played the flashlight around the tu
‘You’re right,’ said the wing corporal. ‘Not worth reporting that. We’ll get him to hand over whatever he’s using as a tool, might use it as a weapon otherwise.’
The slab slammed down with a ring that shook Corvus. He squatted panting in the dark, unable to work out why he had not been discovered.
Eventually the boots thudded away and the door creaked shut again. There was a gentle rap on the concealing slab.
‘You still down there, lad?’
With a laugh of relief, Corvus crawled to the slab and pushed it up, glad to see Reqaui’s perplexed, bearded face.
‘Still here,’ said Corvus.
‘I thought they’d find you for sure,’ said Reqaui, helping Corvus up through the hole, though the youth needed no such aid. ‘I swear they was looking right down there.’
‘They did,’ said Corvus. ‘They didn’t see me. How’s that possible?’
Reqaui shook his head and slumped onto the mattress while Corvus replaced the slab, this time ensuring it fit as snugly as possible.
‘How’s anything possible where you’re concerned?’ said the old inmate. ‘How’s it possible a baby boy’s found a kilometre deep inside a glacier? How’s it possible he pulls off the head of a grown man? How’s it possible he ages five times faster than any other folk? There’s all sorts that’s possible when we’re talking about you.’
‘They looked right at me, and didn’t see me…’ The possibilities were flashing through Corvus’s mind. He thought how wonderful it would be to travel the wings without concern, moving from one block to the next without the guards ever noticing him. Deep inside himself, from some place of instinct rather than intellect, he knew this was something he could do. Like all of the other gifts he had been given, this was an ability that was meant to be used, though to what purpose he still was not sure.
‘It was nice of the guards not to take your sculptures,’ said Corvus, bringing himself back to the present.
‘Nice, my arse,’ said Reqaui. ‘That corporal gave me a truncheon in the gut before he left. They’re all bastards, lad, never forget that.’
‘I won’t,’ said Corvus. ‘They’re all bastards. Don’t worry, Reqaui, one day we’ll be settling the score.’
Reqaui smiled and leaned forwards, gesturing for Corvus to sit beside him. He placed a wiry arm across the boy’s shoulders and gave him a hug.
‘Sure enough, lad,’ said the inmate. ‘A few more years, you’ll have to be patient. A few more years and you’ll be ready. You’ll make the bastards pay, no doubt about it.’
Corvus smiled at the thought.
TRUE TO HIS word, Corax met with the arriving Imperial Fists, accompanied by his senior officers and company captains. Noriz arrived with a full complement of legionaries, who disembarked from the Stormbirds in the docking bay and formed a guard of honour for their captain.