Read Online The Factory Trilogy 01 - Gleam by Tom Fletcher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tom Fletcher
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respond to “Troemius-Wylun”.’
‘Ever just,’ Troemius murmured. ‘Ever righteous. Ever ignorant.’
‘I do have choices,’ Alan said. ‘That’s what’s different about the Discard.’
‘Your choice, then, is this. Bring me what I ask for and see your son once a month. Or do not bring me what I ask for and let your son face the consequences of your actions. Again.’
Alan stared at the Arbitrator. ‘Blackmail?’ he said. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You can choose not to believe me, if you want.’
‘I thought you wanted to help me see Billy – to help Billy see me. I thought there was an element of compassion in this arrangement.’
The Arbitrator smiled thinly. ‘A naïve thing to think. I don’t have a particular interest in your relationship. It’s a means to an end.’
‘So you’re just squeezing me for all you can get.’
‘The risks I’m taking here are extraordinary and I owe you nothing. If anything, you—’
‘Spare me this sanctimonious horseshit, Tromo,’ Alan hissed. ‘You’ve made it clear that any risks you take, you take for yourself. And you didn’t just save my life back then out of some sense of virtue. It was a transaction, notgenerosity, and it was a vicious transaction at that. I owe you fuck all. And besides, I thought we’d agreed a price for these visits. I thought this arrangement was fixed and I thought we were being decent about this.’
‘We did, and it was, and we were. But you haven’t met the terms, have you? And besides, a brothel is not a fitting environment in which to raise a child. You parents
did
run a brothel, did they not? So I didn’t just spare you: I gave you the chance of a much better life by bringing you back into the Pyramid. So you
do
owe me for that opportunity, even if you went on to squander it. In fact, in rearranging our deal, I’m being quite generous.’
Alan bit his tongue. He had a knife at his waist and could almost feel it drawing his hand. He turned away from Troemius. As much as the man repelled him, he was the only weak link in the Pyramid’s defences, and so the only means by which Alan could see Billy at all. He couldn’t risk refusing him, or killing him, or he might never see his son again. He turned back. ‘Enough of this reminiscing,’ he said, his voice restrained. ‘We need to settle on new terms.’
‘Agreed. I’ll need what you were supposed to give me tonight, monthly.’
‘That’s impossible.’
‘The Discard is very large, Alan, and mushrooms are plentiful.’
‘Not those ones.’
Troemius shrugged.
‘You’re a fucking monster.’
‘No. All the monsters live in the Discard.’
‘So if I deliver, I get to see Billy monthly.’
‘Yes. Or less frequently, should you or he prefer.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then I’ll think up something suitably swift and painless.’
‘I won’t be able to do this, Tromo. I can’t – it’s just not possible.’
‘Yes,’ Troemius said, starting to lose interest. ‘You are in a bit of a situation. But as they say, desperation is the mother of invention.’
‘Do they?’
Troemius shrugged again, smiled his thin smile once more and replaced the mask. He walked backwards away from Alan and disappeared into the Pyramid.
Alan swore. Tromo was a pig. They were all pigs, here. Cold-blooded and dead-eyed pigs. He hopped up onto the wall and looked down. The descent would take time – he would be reaching the bottom in daylight. Most of the way he could scramble and slide, but there were points where he’d have to climb and drop. It wasn’t too arduous though, and he knew it well. The alcove where he met Billy was on one of the lowest inhabited floors of the Pyramid, so he was unlikely to meet any Pyramidders on the way. He put his hip-flask to his lipsand was disgusted to find that it was empty. He needed to dull the pain of his thoughts.
He coated his hands in chalk from a small pouch at his belt, and began his journey downwards. Hand
‘Ever just,’ Troemius murmured. ‘Ever righteous. Ever ignorant.’
‘I do have choices,’ Alan said. ‘That’s what’s different about the Discard.’
‘Your choice, then, is this. Bring me what I ask for and see your son once a month. Or do not bring me what I ask for and let your son face the consequences of your actions. Again.’
Alan stared at the Arbitrator. ‘Blackmail?’ he said. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You can choose not to believe me, if you want.’
‘I thought you wanted to help me see Billy – to help Billy see me. I thought there was an element of compassion in this arrangement.’
The Arbitrator smiled thinly. ‘A naïve thing to think. I don’t have a particular interest in your relationship. It’s a means to an end.’
‘So you’re just squeezing me for all you can get.’
‘The risks I’m taking here are extraordinary and I owe you nothing. If anything, you—’
‘Spare me this sanctimonious horseshit, Tromo,’ Alan hissed. ‘You’ve made it clear that any risks you take, you take for yourself. And you didn’t just save my life back then out of some sense of virtue. It was a transaction, notgenerosity, and it was a vicious transaction at that. I owe you fuck all. And besides, I thought we’d agreed a price for these visits. I thought this arrangement was fixed and I thought we were being decent about this.’
‘We did, and it was, and we were. But you haven’t met the terms, have you? And besides, a brothel is not a fitting environment in which to raise a child. You parents
did
run a brothel, did they not? So I didn’t just spare you: I gave you the chance of a much better life by bringing you back into the Pyramid. So you
do
owe me for that opportunity, even if you went on to squander it. In fact, in rearranging our deal, I’m being quite generous.’
Alan bit his tongue. He had a knife at his waist and could almost feel it drawing his hand. He turned away from Troemius. As much as the man repelled him, he was the only weak link in the Pyramid’s defences, and so the only means by which Alan could see Billy at all. He couldn’t risk refusing him, or killing him, or he might never see his son again. He turned back. ‘Enough of this reminiscing,’ he said, his voice restrained. ‘We need to settle on new terms.’
‘Agreed. I’ll need what you were supposed to give me tonight, monthly.’
‘That’s impossible.’
‘The Discard is very large, Alan, and mushrooms are plentiful.’
‘Not those ones.’
Troemius shrugged.
‘You’re a fucking monster.’
‘No. All the monsters live in the Discard.’
‘So if I deliver, I get to see Billy monthly.’
‘Yes. Or less frequently, should you or he prefer.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then I’ll think up something suitably swift and painless.’
‘I won’t be able to do this, Tromo. I can’t – it’s just not possible.’
‘Yes,’ Troemius said, starting to lose interest. ‘You are in a bit of a situation. But as they say, desperation is the mother of invention.’
‘Do they?’
Troemius shrugged again, smiled his thin smile once more and replaced the mask. He walked backwards away from Alan and disappeared into the Pyramid.
Alan swore. Tromo was a pig. They were all pigs, here. Cold-blooded and dead-eyed pigs. He hopped up onto the wall and looked down. The descent would take time – he would be reaching the bottom in daylight. Most of the way he could scramble and slide, but there were points where he’d have to climb and drop. It wasn’t too arduous though, and he knew it well. The alcove where he met Billy was on one of the lowest inhabited floors of the Pyramid, so he was unlikely to meet any Pyramidders on the way. He put his hip-flask to his lipsand was disgusted to find that it was empty. He needed to dull the pain of his thoughts.
He coated his hands in chalk from a small pouch at his belt, and began his journey downwards. Hand
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