The Lost Puzzler Page 18

  The Long Tube had an unfailing daily schedule, but it still attracted what seemed like the entire population of Regeneration. All Rafik could see from his vantage point at the ground level was a forest of legs, carts laden with goods, and plenty of weapons. Then the Long Tube’s doors opened and several uniformed warriors stepped out, immediately drawing Rafik’s attention with their menacing mechanical presence.

  Rafik’s heart fluttered in fear and awe as he watched them descend the platform, easily cutting through the thick of the crowd, which hastened to move out of their way. There was no question who and what these warriors were, for the armour and metal attached to various parts of their bodies, and the formidable weapons they carried, marked them as the abominations mentioned countless of times in the holy scripts. Rafik stood in his place so rigidly that even Khan noticed something was wrong with the boy. When he realised what Rafik was staring at, he waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry, those are just Trolls. You’ll get to see a lot of them in the City of Towers.”

  Rafik considered this for a long moment. He was brought up with the absolute knowledge that these . . . Trolls were to be feared and despised, but so were the marked, those who wore the tattoos and attached metal to their marks. It never occurred to him before that he, Rafik, might actually be one of them. A shiver ran up his spine, and he pushed the thought away, unable to deal with the possible consequences of such a reality. Instead he asked, “Are we going to travel on the Long Tube?”

  Khan was so preoccupied looking for Gandir, that Rafik had to ask three times before he got Khan’s attention.

  “What? Oh yeah, as soon as my fat, lazy brother brings us the travel slips,” Khan said as he kept searching. “Since the Long Tube works all by itself, you would think it should be free for all to ride, but even the oldest Regeneration dwellers don’t remember a time when one faction or another didn’t tax passengers for the privilege. I’ve lost count of the amount of bloody confrontations over who controls the platform. These days, the Council of the City of Towers is in charge of the platform, so now at least the travel slips and taxes are well organized. Ah . . . here’s my miserable excuse for a brother.”

  Gandir shouldered his way back, huffing and puffing, as beads of sweat dripped from his brow.

  “Where were you, you fat hog?” Khan spat as soon as his brother was in sight.

  “It took forever to get these,” Gandir snarled back, waving the slips. “And you owe me thirty extra, you bony mule fucker.”

  Khan snatched the slips, “And where is the ammunition I told you to get?”

  Gandir shrugged, “Couldn’t get that in time, and the travel passes were costly enough, so find something else to do with your trigger finger, for once.”

  “You lying, sad excuse for a lard bucket,” Khan clenched his fists, “you probably spent the coin eating those disgusting pies you’re always stuffing your face with. Don’t deny it, I can smell them on your stinking breath.”

  Any further response Gandir tried to offer was drowned out by the bellowing horn blast, and the awaiting crowd immediately surged forward.

  Without saying a word of good-bye, Khan grabbed Rafik by the arm and moved forward, elbowing his way to the platform while pulling the boy after him. Rafik kept bumping into torsos and elbows, which he endured in silence. The flow of people must have led them the wrong way because they ended up being turned away from the cargo loading area. Khan swore loudly and changed directions abruptly. Rafik turned to follow Khan when the crowd behind them parted briefly and he saw a distinctive metal hand move between the people.

  Terror swept through Rafik, as the image of Dominique being shot flashed in front of his eyes. He felt his body begin to tremble uncontrollably and pulled hard on Khan’s hand, trying to shout a warning, but it was like a hand gripped his throat and no sound came out. The pull was enough for Khan to stop, and as people quickly passed them in the chaotic cue, he turned back to Rafik. This time Rafik found his voice but a second blast from the platform swallowed his words completely. Khan shrugged irritably, turned back and yanked Rafik after him with a force that could not be resisted.

  They were only a few paces away from the platform when Khan suddenly realised the trap. He froze, his eyes wide with comprehension, then turned and shouldered himself and Rafik away from the platform gate. But by then, Jakov and his men were already upon them. A man stepped from among the crowd and grabbed Rafik’s shoulder. Rafik shouted a warning and Khan whirled around, punching the man in the face, then turned to kick another in the groin.

  They ran for their lives. Several times Rafik felt a hand closing in on his shoulder or arm, but every time he managed to slip away. Khan changed directions abruptly. They burst into and through a tavern and ran past the slippery ground of the privy stalls outside, skidding around a corner and pushing an unfortunate man back into the shit shed. Doors were kicked open, people shouted in a mixture of surprise and fear, and Rafik jumped over a man twisting in pain on the floor after being hit in the face by Khan. They ran through small streets, backyards, and over a wooden fence. It was like the game of Warriors and Infidels, but so much scarier.

  Eventually though, exhausted and lost, Khan miscalculated, and they found themselves at a dead end. They tried to climb, but two shots buried themselves into the stone wall, forcing them to jump back down. A volley of shots sent pieces of rock and dust down on their heads. Khan shot back, pushed Rafik into a groove on the side wall, and leaned against him, practically pinning the boy. Rafik saw Khan checking the number of bullets in his pistol, his face contorted with fury, as he tried to think of a way out of the mess. Unfortunately, there were no easy solutions. After another volley of shots, they heard Jakov.

  “You cost me a lot of time and plenty of coin, my best bodyguard Radja, and a few good men whom I unfortunately paid in advance, so excuse me if I’m running out of patience here.”

  Khan looked around, his eyes wide with fear, but they were trapped.

  “Do I need to do the counting-to-three part?” Jakov mocked. “Or can we skip over the boring etiquette and finish this farce?”

  “Jakov, you backstabbling rusthead,” Khan shouted back, “you took everything from me.”

  “I gave you a fair offer and you chose to disregard it. You should have known the consequences.” Jakov’s voice was hard. “Now be a good businessman, cut your losses or die trying to keep something you can’t handle.”

  “Fine,” shouted Khan, banging his head softly against the wall behind him and shutting his eyes. “Let’s make a deal, then. I’ll give you forty percent.”

  “No deals, Khan. You’re going to give me the boy now or you will die here in the gutter.” Jakov was clearly losing his patience.

  Khan turned his head slowly to Rafik. “Sorry for doing this,” he said. Then he thrust the boy in front of him and placed the muzzle of his gun at the back of Rafik’s head. He stepped away from the groove, pushing Rafik forward.

  “Leave us alone or I shoot the boy.”

  Rafik saw Jakov and five other men aiming a rich arsenal of weaponry at Khan, who was taking cover behind him.

  “This has always been your problem, Khan.” Jakov looked Rafik right in the eye as he talked. “You always had ambition beyond your capabilities. You never knew when to cut your losses and walk away.”

  After that, everyone stood in silence for a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Rafik could hear Kahn breathing behind him. He felt the muzzle of the gun shaking against his skull. “How do I know you won’t shoot me as soon as I give you the boy?” Khan said, defeat in his voice.

  “I give you my word,” Jakov said. But even Rafik knew that he was lying.

  “You double-crossed me before, and now you expect me to take your word?”

  “That’s all you’re going to get. You don’t have any other options.”

  “No game.”

  “So you will die.”

  “I’ll shoot the boy.”

  “And I’ll cu
t my losses and move on, the same way you still could do.”

  “You don’t understand.” Khan’s voice was close to hysteria. “I have nothing—no coin, no bar, no woman, no house. I have nothing to lose, Jakov, nothing.”

  “Stop your whining, Khan. Just walk away.”

  “I’ll shoot the boy.”

  “Then you’ll die.”

  Rafik felt the pressure of the muzzle increase against the back of his head.

  “Wait,” he heard himself shout. “I have a deal for you both.” He paused briefly but when there was no reaction, he continued. “I will go with you, Jakov, and you will let Khan go—” he took a deep breath and added “—and in return I will do as you ask me. I will not try to run away. I will obey you and I will solve all the puzzles you give me. Isn’t that what you want?”

  This time the silence was longer. Jakov’s expression turned from mild amusement to deep calculation. Until that moment, he probably didn’t think about the possibility that a resentful and uncooperative boy could endanger his profit. He eventually said, “Fine. I agree to your terms. Come with me and Khan won’t be harmed.”

  “No deal,” Khan shook his head. “I’m the one with the gun here, and I say no deal!”

  “I’m going to turn around now, Khan,” Rafik said quietly and did just that. The muzzle of the gun was now pressed against his forehead.

  Khan’s face was wet from sweat and tears. He stared at Rafik, blinking, eyes red-rimmed. “You’re not going anywhere,” he repeated.

  “When we travelled in Sweetheart, Captain Sam told me about the game he likes to play,” Rafik said, “the one with kings and queens painted on cards?”

  Khan nodded slowly, confused.

  “Captain Sam said that sometimes you can bluff, even if you do not hold the right cards. If the other guy keeps going you can sometimes double-bluff, but you have to be lucky. This is like that card game, but you cannot double-bluff here.”

  Rafik saw Khan’s eyes widen with comprehension.

  “I’m going to go now, Khan,” Rafik said softly. He walked one step backwards, still facing the pistol. “I will pray for you.” He took another step away from Khan, who was still pointing the trembling weapon at him.

  Rafik turned and walked slowly towards Jakov and his companions. Everyone’s eyes were completely focused on the boy. When he reached Jakov, the merchant patted the boy on his shoulder with his human hand, a look of newly found appreciation in his eyes. The rest of the men formed a protective wall around them, facing Khan, who stood still with his gun held with both hands. Jakov picked up Rafik’s right hand with his human hand and his metal fingers slowly peeled off Dominique’s glove. The merchant took a long look at Rafik’s marked fingers, and finally his human face twisted in a mirthless half smile.

  “Good,” he said. With a snap of his metallic fingers he shredded the glove, letting the remains drop gently to the muddy ground. “You won’t need that where we are going.”

  Rafik’s watched the pieces of Dominique’s glove land on the ground before the heavy leather boot of the merchant buried them completely in the mud. He felt Jakov’s razor-sharp fingers close on his shoulders and heard his raspy voice as the merchant bent down.

  “You will keep your promise, won’t you?” he whispered in the boy’s ear.

  Rafik, still looking at the ground, could only nod.

  “Good,” Jakov said again and straightened, turning his attention back to Khan.

  “Just because I’m impressed with the kid, I will give you something to live for, Khan. It’s called revenge.” Jakov was now grinning triumphantly behind his metal mask. “You see, it was your own brother who betrayed you. He sold you out.”

  “You lie!” Khan’s face turned red. “You lie!” The words flew out of his mouth with a wad of spittle.

  “He sold you out for a hundred coins and three onion pies,” said the merchant calmly. “He might still have the coin if he hasn’t spent it all on whores.”

  By the look on Khan’s face, comprehension was dawning on him. He lowered his gun and a strange, menacing look entered his eyes.

  “Go get your revenge, Khan,” Jakov said, “and then start a new life, somewhere far away from here, and for your sake, let us never meet again.” He turned and walked away, motioning for Rafik to follow. The boy shot a parting glance at the man who was as close to family as he had at that moment, before turning and walking silently after Jakov.

  28

  The Long Tube was still at the platform. It was a stark reminder to Rafik of how fast his fortune was changing. He was being passed from hand to hand like a piece of merchandise with no regard for his own desires or feelings. He still did not know why his talent for puzzles made him so valuable to everyone.

  He was lost in gloomy thoughts until the group reached the platform. From up close, the Troll guards looked even more imposing; their weapons and Tarakan devices clearly separated them from the rest of humanity. Rafik watched them with open curiosity while Jakov bought them passage. Jakov even purchased rations for the way—round bread and rock-hard cheese, but also salted and fried lizards on a stick, which turned out to be a surprising delicacy.

  Before getting into the Long Tube, they were thoroughly searched and their weapons were taken and stored. A uniformed Troll guard checked each issued travel slip and pointed them brusquely towards their seats, not before warning them not to start a fight on pain of death. Each compartment had seats for a hundred people, and they were almost full.

  It smelled like a latrine inside, and there was a depressing accumulation of garbage on the floor and on some of the seats. Jakov’s two guards cleared their designated seats, which were facing each other, and shoved some of the junk on the floor with their feet towards the passengers they deemed too weak to protest. Instinctively, Rafik shoved his hand deep into his pocket, but people did not pay the slightest attention to him. A few stared briefly at Jakov but turned away as soon as their gazes were met.

  Almost as soon as they were settled, the doors of the Long Tube closed, to the cheers of many of its occupants, and the Tube began moving up and, from Rafik’s point of view, backwards. They accelerated, the twin metal bars flashing past Rafik every few heartbeats until they were too fast to focus on. It was then that he realised that the openings in the wall were actually blocking the wind. He moved his hand and touched an invisible surface that felt cold and tingly.

  Jakov nodded at the boy’s expression of wonderment, leaned over, and knocked on the transparent wall with a metallic finger, “Amazing, isn’t it? Makes glass look like a brick wall in comparison.”

  He ordered the guard to change seats with Rafik so the boy could have a better view. For the rest of the journey, he was happy just to sit quietly and look outside as he chewed on dried fruit.

  The Long Tube was moving high up in the air and apparently at an incredibly fast speed, but the inside of the compartment was calm and stable. For part of their journey, Rafik could see the bright Tarakan highway mirroring their path. Trucks could sometimes be seen travelling exactly under them, and it was a measure of how fast the Long Tube was travelling that the trucks disappeared in the blink of an eye. Rafik hoped Captain Sam had managed to fix Sweetheart, and his mood turned sombre as he remembered that the man who chased them was now sitting beside him.

  When the roads disappeared, they travelled above farms and fields of corn and wheat, and sometimes Rafik could make out men working in the fields. The farms and pastures formed a pattern, and as he watched them flash by, he began playing a little game in his mind where he manoeuvred the farms and fields around for better use of the road. Jakov told him that before the Catastrophe people used to get into metal Sky Birds and fly around in them from one part of the world to another. Rafik would not have believed this story on any other day, but now it seemed like anything was possible. He asked why anyone would place their fields so far away from home, but Jakov just laughed and called him a stupid mutt.

  After seeing the look
on the boy’s face, or maybe just to pass the time, Jakov relented with an explanation of sorts: “When the City of Towers lowered its barriers and opened itself to humans, one of the first problems was lack of food. Several of the city’s Tubes reached a few farms and villages, but what was brought back was simply not enough to feed the growing numbers of people coming into the city.”

  Jakov gesticulated with his metal hand. “So it was every Troll for himself. That, together with the unfriendly competition between the various factions, which are called guilds, meant that the Tube’s platforms were a constant war zone. This caused two bouts of famine and almost depleted the city. It was then that Mauricious Altenna, a visionary guild boss, managed to convince his rivals that there were higher gains to be had by joining forces to create stability. Those who joined formed the Council, which was led by a mutually agreed upon puppet leader named Sirbin Sammuel.”

  Jakov smiled when he said, “Those who did not join, died. The city’s ShieldGuard was formed, and soon after, the Council took control of all the platforms, then the city, and eventually the surrounding areas all the way to Regeneration and beyond. Successful raids brought plenty of captives, and together with the prisoners of the guilds who resisted the Council, they were sent to cultivate the wild lands surrounding the city. I hear that every once in a while these new farmers stage a revolt, but they are no match for the Council’s power.”

  Jakov shoved a piece of hard cheese into the side of his mouth and chewed slowly before continuing.

  “Now things are as they should be. The Council is so powerful you can buy stuff in the surrounding villages with slips marked by the city’s merchant guild instead of hard coin. The guilds are busy salvaging all they can from Tarakan technology to stage another war, and best of all, a new Tarakan city was discovered deep in the mountains of Tarakan Valley. They say this city dwarfs the City of Towers ten times over and contains the most powerful artifacts and weapons. Now everyone is busy sending Salvationist crews to Tarakan Valley and selling what they find there, instead of fighting each other.”