Djinn City, page 24
“This is a mere interlude, sirs, a slow war of occupation. We were willed these lands! We were given these by God! From the dawn of time, we have nursed these humans like pets, raised them like dogs, and now we reap our harvest. We have squandered our superiority, our divine power. It is a sin! We were created to rule, sirs, and what do we rule? What dominion do you now hold, Beltrex? A few dusty grapes in a vineyard? Do you remember what it was like to roar in the plains, to tremble the endless herd of bison? How many subjects do you have, Kuriken, in your hollow kingdom? You once ruled all things Rus, from the taiga to the sea. If times were better before, then let us go back to them. If you are too squeamish, then allow me, sirs, to strike for you, allow me to act, give me this one chance to turn back the clock!”
If he had any further admonishments, they were drowned out by tumultuous applause.
CHAPTER 29
Final Solutions
They took a break for refreshments, as djinn were wont to do, which gave everyone time to mull over things. Djinn being naturally cliquish, no one was willing to voice an opinion until he had gauged the general mood of the Assembly. Rais circulated the crowd, picking up snippets. He was somewhat notorious due to the legal wrangle he had incited by his application, and several people hailed him, asking after Kaikobad. One indigent-looking djinn even inquired about his mother and surreptitiously asked for a loan.
He came into the orbit of Dargoman once, and the Afghan gave him a cold bow and tapped his cane suggestively. The old emissary had a reckless violence about him, barely constrained, as if only the smallest nod to etiquette was stopping him from running Rais through.
“We’re fucked,” Barabas said glumly, as Rais joined him and Golgoras next to the buffet line.
“It’s the numbers thing,” Golgoras said. “I’m not averse to humans, but it’s perfectly clear that we’re getting to a point of no return. Lots of the younger djinns feel that way.”
“And that drooling hybrid thing got me,” Barabas said. “Those things give me the creeps.”
“What happens here? Do we get a vote or something?” Rais asked.
“More of a feeling-out process,” Golgoras said. “Any major objectors are supposed to voice their opinion now, preferably with legal backing. Any serious points, and it gets kicked to the courts. If everyone goes along, then he can do what he pleases, and damn the consequences. His dignatas is big enough to handle it.”
“So like are you going to object, or pussy out?” Rais asked.
“What?”
“Big bad pilot, you haven’t said shit yet.”
“I’m biding my time. And best watch your tone, Hume.”
“’Cause it looks a bit like you’re intimidated.”
“Shut up,” Golgoras said. “There’s a way of handling these things.”
“And Barabas, aren’t you Bahamut’s right-hand man?”
“Er, yes, but I might have exaggerated my auctoritas. I’m not sure these big guys will pay any attention to me.”
“I can see that,” Rais said. “Bahamut really wants to use his bomb, I guess. I can’t believe he’s not going to put up a fight. I’m beginning to wonder if he can actually fight.”
“Bahamut is a legendary fighter!” Barabas said hotly. “He fought in the Great War!”
“It’s funny that everyone keeps talking about the Great War.”
“Well, it’s the Great War. Much greater than any of those puny wars you Humes have fought.”
“It’s just weird that no one seems to know any actual facts.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I keep asking around, but no one can give me any details. Who fought who, exactly?”
Golgoras looked puzzled. “Well, djinn and men, obviously.”
“Against each other?”
“No, no, they were allied,” Barabas said. “Remember that old song about men and djinn marching off?”
“Right, Gangaridai, the original one, that was djinn and men living in harmony, the golden age, the eternal city, blah blah blah,” said Golgoras.
“So djinn and men fought who? Who were the enemy?” Rais asked.
“Er, I guess another bunch of djinn and men? I’m not a damn historian,” said Barabas.
“And Gangaridai was one of the cities fighting? It was like one of the main sides?”
“Yes, yes, we all know the famous battle in which Gangaridai got wrecked,” Golgoras said. “Remember that song about the Spires of Ganga?”
“Battle? No, no, Gangaridai got wrecked after. I thought it was the lords of Gangaridai that blasted the ice age and ruined the world,” Barabas said. “Must have been Matteras’s forefathers, come to think of it, that royal bastard.”
“So there was a war fought by djinn and men against other djinn and men, involving Gangaridai in a grand battle that might or might not have set off an ice age,” Rais said. “See what I mean about everyone knowing fuck all?”
“Well, it was twenty thousand years ago,” Golgoras said, aggrieved. “You can’t even remember what happened two thousand years ago.”
“So who won the war?”
“What?”
“Who won?”
“You know, I have no idea…” said Golgoras. He stared at Rais. “You raise a good point.”
“Bahamut told us to look in this direction.” Rais said. “In fact it was pretty much the only lucid thing he said.”
“It was a holocaust. Nearly destroyed both man and djinn,” Golgoras said. “It birthed the policy of Seclusion. It was twenty thousand years ago. It is no wonder that we don’t dwell on it. But surely someone has records.”
“Like Risal?”
“Like Risal,” Golgoras said. “Who is gone. Hmm, I see. Bahamut might not be senile after all. We will speak further on this. Matteras is ready to continue.”
The interval was over, Hazard having kept strict control over the bar. It was a well-known fact of Assemblies that should any interval spill over into the third drink, the audience would certainly become unruly and the entire day would be lost. Matteras, mic in hand, was motoring on.
“Friends, friends, come, hear me! I have the solution, but alas, I am only one djinn. I have merely offered to make a bit of space for my fellow djinn, a tiny little adjustment to the landscape, and for that reason I have been hounded by Bahamut, threatened by his lackeys, my auctoritas attacked by the full weight of his clients! In fact, there is one of his minions now, come to disrupt this august Assembly!” He was pointing directly at Barabas, whose hapless face was trying to desperately convey that he had no intention of disrupting any Assembly, august or otherwise.
What? Barabas mouthed, thrust suddenly into the wrathful gaze of thirty senior djinn.
Matteras ambled over. “Look at this pathetic specimen,” he said, pulling Barabas toward the center of the room by one ear. “Look at this bedraggled djinn, come to ogle his betters. Look at the contempt Bahamut has for us, to send such a creature as his cat’s-paw!”
“No, I mean, sirs, I am merely observing—”
“Where is your master?”
“Er, look, he’s a fish, isn’t he?” Barabas said, spraying out a crumb of éclair.
“Exactly!” Matteras looked around mockingly. “Not just one fish. He’s a whole school of fish. I’m being hounded by a school of fish. I am being threatened by a creature without two brain cells to rub together. I’m being—”
“Hold on now,” Beltrex said. “Bahamut’s been around. No need to go off on him…”
“Where is he then?” Matteras asked. “If he’s so civic minded, where is he? If he’s so ancient and venerable, where is his wisdom? If he’s so damn powerful, why hasn’t he protected us against human encroachment? Time after time, I’ve asked for his guidance, for the support of his auctoritas. Always, he has thrown it back in my face. I offered him my allegiance, and instead he threatened me with destruction.”
“What? Doesn’t sound like him,” scoffed Beltrex.
“You, insignificant Ifrit,” Matteras snapped at Barabas. “What does Bahamut have in his possession?”
“Um, the giant squid?”
“No, you idiot, the fractal bomb! The bomb! That thing he looted from the ruins of Gangaridai!”
“Hang on, hang on, he didn’t loot nothing,” Barabas said, stung. “I don’t know who your ancestors were, and I don’t much care either. If you wanted to preserve your precious Gangaridai, it should be you down there rotting in the ocean instead of him!”
“Boy’s got a point,” Beltrex shouted. “Well said!”
“He has a fractal bomb, you utter brainless fucks!” Matteras was fairly frothing now. “What this witless hick isn’t communicating clearly is that Bahamut is stark raving mad, and he has explicitly threatened to discontinue time with his bomb if we don’t comply with his every wish!”
“Humph, fractal bomb just a rumor,” Walrus said. “Bahamut big exaggerator. Probably. Very bad for all of us otherwise.”
“Oh, for god’s sake, let him set off his fractal bomb,” said Kuriken, the dapper djinn. He was coolly lighting a cigar, blatantly ignoring the no-smoking policy of the ballroom and not the least bit worried about ashing on the floor. “At least it’d put an end to this interminable debate. I for one would love another ice age. Carry on, Matteras. What would you have us do? Assuming we agree in principle to your little proposal.”
Rais stepped forward finally, casting a disgusted look at Golgoras.
“Ah, sirs, sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I would suggest that Lord Matteras’s proposal to depopulate most of Asia is not at all a foregone or desirable conclusion.”
There was an instant hush in the room.
“Hazard, who exactly is this human, and what is he doing in our Assembly?” Matteras asked with deceptive calmness.
“Your sister, sir, was my aunt,” Rais said, taking some advantage of the lady djinn he hardly remembered.
There was pin-drop silence in the room now. One did not bring up Matteras’s sister to his face without serious repercussions.
“He is, in fact, the emissary Kaikobad’s nephew,” Hazard said with a note of apology.
“Ah, yes, our replacement,” Matteras said. “You, whose application has caused so much amusement and entertainment for our courts. Still, I do not recall inviting you to speak.”
“I am surprised, sir, that with so many august emissaries in this room, none see fit to object to your proposal to cleanse the entire subcontinent of humanity.”
“Perhaps they are wiser than you,” Matteras said. “There are, after all, many more humans in other parts of the world. Who would miss a few?”
“Would you allow me to speak on behalf of my uncle, who lies in a coma?”
“I am sorry, I am not one of those impressed by borrowed dignatas. Kaikobad would have been most welcome to speak, but what possible use could you have in this debate? Do you have any experience in our politics? Do you know any of the social axioms? Do you have any advantage over these other emissaries who have served us for decades?” Matteras asked. “Silence, boy! Be satisfied that I do not disperse you into fairy dust as you stand.”
“Let’s just get on with it,” Kuriken said, bored. “Throw this poor fool out, Hazard, for god’s sake. I thought this was an exclusive gathering. If I knew you were going to invite every beggar off the streets to speak, I wouldn’t have come.”
“That’s the Siberian king, Kuriken. He’s as bad as Matteras,” Golgoras whispered to Rais. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.” He stepped forward, shouldering Rais aside. “Never mind the boy, I’ve got other concerns.”
“Oho? And what does the Royal Aeronautics Society have to say on this? I was assured you were a mere observer,” Matteras said.
“Your fetish for earthquakes is a matter of indifference to us,” Golgoras said coolly. “As is your apparent desire to slaughter millions of people. I’m concerned about a missing djinn.”
“What? What nonsense is this?”
“I’m not a human, Matteras,” Golgoras snapped. “Moderate your tone, or I will leave, and you can speak to the society lawyer.”
“Why don’t we settle this right here, bird boy,” Hazard said, ambling forward.
“Ah, Golgoras, so delightfully brusque,” Matteras said. “Please, no need for duels or lawyers. If only you’d be a bit clearer, Golgoras, perhaps we would know what you’re talking about.”
“The historian Risal,” Golgoras said. “She’s gone missing.”
“She wanders around; she’s probably somewhere remote.”
“It has been twenty years,” Golgoras said.
“So what, then? What the hell does it have to do with me?” Matteras looked around. “What does it have to do with Royal Aeronautics, for that matter? She wasn’t a member, was she?”
“No.”
“Then this is clearly a trivial waste of time. Kindly allow us to continue.”
“She was a tenant,” Golgoras said. “She lived in a sky tunnel. We built it for her and held her moorage contract. She is missing. The tunnel was drifting. We are legally bound to investigate.”
“Fine, fine, investigate,” Kuriken said. “Why are you boring us with it?”
“We are investigating,” Golgoras said. “And thus we are here.”
“What does that mean?” Matteras asked.
“We found her home abandoned, deliberately sheared off,” Golgoras said.
“I must ask, once again, what this has to do with me? Is it my fault that your society builds shoddy sky tunnels?” Matteras asked.
“We thought you might know where she has gone.”
“I do not, nor do I care.”
“You did care about the Maker, though, didn’t you?”
“He put the mad djinn down,” Kuriken said. “Your own society gave him a medal, if I recall. Why are you bringing up that cursed episode again?”
“Yes, he put him down,” Golgoras said. “In a murder pit, was it?”
“I did what I had to,” Matteras said. “I don’t recall the RAS being particularly helpful during those dark days. In fact, no one wanted to know any details back then.”
“You’re a bit of an expert on murder pits,” Golgoras said. “Famous for it.”
“What is your fucking point, pilot?”
“Risal was in touch with Givaras, wasn’t she? One of his friends?”
“The Maker had no friends,” Matteras said. “Not any sane ones, at any rate.”
“We found this.” Golgoras held up a lead-lined box and threw it at Hazard, who instinctively caught it one-handed, jackal teeth snapping. The box unlatched and the vellum-bound book spilled out, landing on its spine, pages flaring open like a carnivorous flower. Hazard stumbled back with an animal cry and there was dead silence.
“It’s a first edition,” Golgoras said, carefully looking away.
Matteras stared at the book, transfixed. “This is impossible. It was destroyed.”
“It’s handwritten,” Golgoras said.
“I can’t see it,” Beltrex complained in his quavering voice. “What is it?”
“It’s the Compendium of Beasts,” Golgoras said. “An original manuscript. Anyone want to read it?”
The crowd flinched back.
“You found this at Risal’s?” Matteras was quiet now, an intense stillness about him that was much more frightening than his vitriol. “You three?”
“Yes.”
“I should kill all of you just for touching it, just for seeing it,” Matteras said. He shook his head. “I destroyed every scrap of paper Givaras ever touched. How the fuck can it exist?”
“Matteras,” the pilot said quietly, “are you quite sure he’s dead?”
“No one could survive where I put him,” Matteras said.
“It’s the Broken,” Golgoras said. “Are you quite sure? I’d check if I were you…”
Walrus began to roll out of the room surreptitiously, gray water in his bubble sloshing, spouting an impressive stream of protective wards. A susurration rose up behind him—“Givaras, Givaras, Givaras”—emissaries clucking like penguins, more than thirty ancient djinn in the full maturity of their power flexing their fields, the air suddenly so thick with magic that Rais could barely stop himself retching. Kuriken stood in the middle smoking, an island of calm, a hard smile on his face. The discord rose, as djinns fought to preserve the book, or destroy it, or study it for the hidden magics of the Maker. In ones and twos they started to leave, plotting. The great Assembly was over.
CHAPTER 30
Kaikobad
It had been months since they had seen Memmion. The golden giant invoked atavistic fear in the First City these days. Every so often some out-watcher would claim to see him over the horizon, and the citizens would quake. There were effigies of him burning on every street corner, at the foot of every tower. The port quadrant of the city was permanently flooded now, a sloshing, stagnant marshland, the streets largely abandoned. Ships still braved the ocean, bringing food and supplies to the beleaguered empire, old trading partners maintaining alliances.
Rumors abounded, hope and despair jumbled together in manic-depressive splendor. The rebellion had ended, the enemy were scattered. Givaras the Broken was raising an army against them, the likes of which had never been seen. Memmion had made an airship and was going to attack from the skies. Kaikobad wandered the cafés lining the raised ocean promenade, now level with the sea. The patrons still came to lounge here in defiance, smoking their pipes, even though their feet got wet with every swell, and the bamboo furniture was all rotted with seawater. He knew all the regulars, had heard their stories.
Actual news from Lhasa was dire. The one true rumor was that the Ghuls had abandoned them. The djinns were not only one race, but three that Kaikobad knew of. Possibly there were more, or once had been, but as with so many things djinn, the knowledge was lost or deliberately obfuscated. The Ifrit were the most numerous, and the Marid more powerful, although it was unclear whether they were simply a type of Ifrit or a separate race altogether. The Ghuls, more numerous than the Marid, were distinct in several ways. They were physically stronger and faster, and typically held to be less intelligent, almost beastlike. It was rumored that they could not control their fields, although this was probably bigotry. They were taciturn and uncommunicative even to other djinn, and shunned contact with humans and Nephilim. The central culture of the djinn, dominated by Ifrit, treated the Ghuls as a subservient race.
