saw a shape fly overhead,
rigid, not a bird. Moved as fast as it was still.
From the city, Dougie said matter-of-fact when I told him…
I believed him, but it could have just as well been a dream of a sky that had once
been crowded with such things aeronautical. The world remembers everything, and sometimes
those memories bump up against the now. The past haunts all. The Before was before,
but it’s also now.
What happens to Day Boys gone old? Just what they tell us. We never see it, not Dav
nor the other ones I remember, Peter and Sil, and Craver. Other Masters pass through,
boys do on occasion as well, but they’re from different towns. Same Imperatives,
different rules. Certain is the only Old Boy I know of. But he’s a quieter sort.
I don’t know where Peter is. Or Sil. They were old when I was young. Moderates in
their way, they didn’t treat me bad. They sighed and sang, they ruled in ways louder
than any of us.
Dougie often says they were real boys, gentlemen. And we’ll not see their like again—which
is funny coming from him.
Wherever they are, they are gone. Sent south or north, or deep into the belly of
the mountain. Grown into Masters or auditors or constables.
Or maybe they’re buried somewhere just out of town.
CHAPTER
12
NOTHING COMES OF that hot west wind. Nothing that I can see, and the town settles
in the heat, in the dust, and the slow passage of the summer. Nothing happening until
it does.
Back from marking another door, I catch Dougie smashing at Grove’s bike, kicking
it to bits, his hat wobbling on his head. Have to try not to laugh. Still too sore
for fighting. Always been something scratchy between him and Grove, but this time
my mate must have done something particularly sour. Problem with Grove is, he probably
wouldn’t have even noticed it. Dougie’s a boy of sensitivities. Grove’s Master being
the most senior rankles him.
‘Don’t you tell him,’ Dougie says to me, boots bending frame and breaking gears.
‘I won’t.’ I don’t know what’s going on, but I know enough that Dougie needs this.
Sometimes the right thing’s not the right thing at all. And Dougie’s near the top
of the tree, and it’s sure not my place to challenge him. Not in this. The past binds all of us together. Done stuff together, sat in our Master’s halls and made faces.
They sleep heavy, and you can get away with a lot. Sure we’re respectful, but we’re
Day Boys, got limits to stretch. And Dougie and his Master, Sobel, possess the cruellest
sentiments.
‘Grove finds this out, he’ll be coming for you.’
Dougie laughs. ‘What do you think I am? Stupid or something?’ He drags the bike
behind the shrubs at Marriott Street. Grove’ll find it. ‘But you ain’t gonna tell
him, and neither am I.’
I’m with Grove when he finds his bike, didn’t mean to be, but the world wanted otherwise.
He frowns and shrugs. Can see he’s hurt, but he hides it well.
‘Not the end of the world,’ I say, and he almost laughs.
Not quite. Still, he says the words. ‘’ Cause that’s already happened . You’ll help
me fix it?’
‘Course,’ I say.
It isn’t so much fixing as remaking, but we get it done. Grove mostly, but he calls
me when he needs a hand.
And when you fix a bike, you have to ride it. Don’t you? And you have to give it
a good ride, test it out. And if you don’t it’ll sit there looking sad. Expectant.
Until you do.
Two days of rain and we don’t have the chance. I’m talking real rain, the stuff that
slides in from the south of a summer and just dumps until the river starts looking
wild and white-edged and breaks its banks a little or a lot. So that’s how anxious
Grove is to ride it.
And I can’t blame him. Since its ruin and resurrection, it’s grown a damn sight more
impressive. He’s painted flames down one side, there’s a new set of gears and tyres
that Egan brought in special for him from the City in the Shadow of the Mountain.
I’ve trouble
rigid, not a bird. Moved as fast as it was still.
From the city, Dougie said matter-of-fact when I told him…
I believed him, but it could have just as well been a dream of a sky that had once
been crowded with such things aeronautical. The world remembers everything, and sometimes
those memories bump up against the now. The past haunts all. The Before was before,
but it’s also now.
What happens to Day Boys gone old? Just what they tell us. We never see it, not Dav
nor the other ones I remember, Peter and Sil, and Craver. Other Masters pass through,
boys do on occasion as well, but they’re from different towns. Same Imperatives,
different rules. Certain is the only Old Boy I know of. But he’s a quieter sort.
I don’t know where Peter is. Or Sil. They were old when I was young. Moderates in
their way, they didn’t treat me bad. They sighed and sang, they ruled in ways louder
than any of us.
Dougie often says they were real boys, gentlemen. And we’ll not see their like again—which
is funny coming from him.
Wherever they are, they are gone. Sent south or north, or deep into the belly of
the mountain. Grown into Masters or auditors or constables.
Or maybe they’re buried somewhere just out of town.
CHAPTER
12
NOTHING COMES OF that hot west wind. Nothing that I can see, and the town settles
in the heat, in the dust, and the slow passage of the summer. Nothing happening until
it does.
Back from marking another door, I catch Dougie smashing at Grove’s bike, kicking
it to bits, his hat wobbling on his head. Have to try not to laugh. Still too sore
for fighting. Always been something scratchy between him and Grove, but this time
my mate must have done something particularly sour. Problem with Grove is, he probably
wouldn’t have even noticed it. Dougie’s a boy of sensitivities. Grove’s Master being
the most senior rankles him.
‘Don’t you tell him,’ Dougie says to me, boots bending frame and breaking gears.
‘I won’t.’ I don’t know what’s going on, but I know enough that Dougie needs this.
Sometimes the right thing’s not the right thing at all. And Dougie’s near the top
of the tree, and it’s sure not my place to challenge him. Not in this. The past binds all of us together. Done stuff together, sat in our Master’s halls and made faces.
They sleep heavy, and you can get away with a lot. Sure we’re respectful, but we’re
Day Boys, got limits to stretch. And Dougie and his Master, Sobel, possess the cruellest
sentiments.
‘Grove finds this out, he’ll be coming for you.’
Dougie laughs. ‘What do you think I am? Stupid or something?’ He drags the bike
behind the shrubs at Marriott Street. Grove’ll find it. ‘But you ain’t gonna tell
him, and neither am I.’
I’m with Grove when he finds his bike, didn’t mean to be, but the world wanted otherwise.
He frowns and shrugs. Can see he’s hurt, but he hides it well.
‘Not the end of the world,’ I say, and he almost laughs.
Not quite. Still, he says the words. ‘’ Cause that’s already happened . You’ll help
me fix it?’
‘Course,’ I say.
It isn’t so much fixing as remaking, but we get it done. Grove mostly, but he calls
me when he needs a hand.
And when you fix a bike, you have to ride it. Don’t you? And you have to give it
a good ride, test it out. And if you don’t it’ll sit there looking sad. Expectant.
Until you do.
Two days of rain and we don’t have the chance. I’m talking real rain, the stuff that
slides in from the south of a summer and just dumps until the river starts looking
wild and white-edged and breaks its banks a little or a lot. So that’s how anxious
Grove is to ride it.
And I can’t blame him. Since its ruin and resurrection, it’s grown a damn sight more
impressive. He’s painted flames down one side, there’s a new set of gears and tyres
that Egan brought in special for him from the City in the Shadow of the Mountain.
I’ve trouble
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