Dominions

34-1

34

- 34 -

The train rocked gently as it made its leisurely way through the tunnel. Rodin let himself be swayed by the motion, for once not minding the lack of urgency. It gave him the opportunity to reflect, and to prepare. It gave him a moment of peace.

He wondered how much peace Shae was feeling now. Back in her rooms, he’d explained his plan, and even though it meant never seeing the Councillor again, she saw that there was no other option. She’d contacted Leopold, arranging the meeting.

Rodin had listened in carefully, noted how she hinted that she wanted to see the Councillor, but never explicitly stating that the meeting would be with her. Even in that stressful situation, with two corpses still bleeding onto her floor, she’d been strong.

Leopold agreed to the rendezvous‌—‌and in his reply to Shae, Rodin was certain he detected a hint of excitement at travelling to such a destination. The edges of the Dome were the closest this society had to no-go zones, but the Councillor clearly saw this as a new experience, one that he might learn from. Truly a rarity under the glass, that man‌—‌seeking the new, regardless of the risks.

Of course, he might regret his decision when Rodin appeared.

The tunnel was dark, and when Rodin looked to the window he saw his reflection. The clothes were the closest Dome fashions to the practical wear he was accustomed to, and he reached a hand over his left breast, feeling the weight in the inside pocket. The tool that had been smuggled across the glass, along with his two blades. One of these still sat on his hip. The other, of course, was still in that man’s skull, unless Shae had removed it.

He turned his head, and saw the other reflection in the glass.

Paskia looked small and frightened, but she sat rigid, her face set. After all she’d been through, she was still courageous, unwilling to be beaten down by Authority.

It had surprised both Rodin and Shae when Paskia said she wanted to accompany him to the meeting. Shae had said it was a ridiculous notion, that the girl needed to rest, especially after what she had just endured. And Rodin said he would rather be alone for this.

But Paskai had been adamant. If Leopold no longer trusted Rodin, she had said, then a friendly face would help ease his mind about the meeting.

Rodin agreed, knowing that he was using her. Knowing that, whatever happened, he would be abandoning her as soon as Leopold arrived.

Her reflection shifted, and Rodin looked directly at her. There was still a red line at her throat, but despite some bleeding earlier it was already fading. There wouldn’t be any scaring.

“You’re really from beyond the glass?” she asked in a small voice. Her eyes met his with determination.

He nodded, and she sighed with a sad smile. “Then I was mistaken, before. You can’t be the friend I once knew. But the two of you are so alike. And when Shae first said your name, I saw him clearly in my mind. So strange, the obscure fragments that trigger memories. She said your name, and in my mind I heard not Rodin but Brodie, and I knew that was his name. For a moment I was back with him, in his arms, and he was teasing me about my hair‌—‌I think I had it coloured red back then, and he would talk of my mind being on fire, would call me firefly or firebug or something similar.” A tiny laugh. “That sounds almost an insult, to call someone a bug. But he said it like it was a private joke, like we had a special bond. And‌…‌and there were other things I recall, ways he acted, things he’d say and do. I remembered his mannerisms, the way he’d sit quietly for long periods, watching and listening.” A sigh “And then I remembered our sessions with Sertio, and that walk in the park. I remembered how you too watched and listened. And I thought how alike the two of you were.”

She drifted off, gazing into the darkness through the window.

He didn’t respond, and the train rocked in silence. Paskia sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her chest rising and falling beneath her jacket. He thought of the modelling sessions, and of her body‌—‌petite, some muscle tone, pale skin, and those tiny imperfections. A contrast to his toughened but scarred flesh, his ugly protection.

When she turned away from the window, her face was still sad. No‌—‌not sad, but hollow, like there was nothing left inside. Like Correction, or Authority, had taken away years of memories and left a dark void.

“What’s it like outside?” Her voice wavered, and her eyes darted away.

“Outside?”

“Beyond the glass.” Her eyes met his, and her face twitched.

Rodin took a breath. “Different.” But he couldn’t leave it at that. “I’ve heard what people in here think, and they have it all wrong. Yes, it’s sometimes violent, and there aren’t all the rules you have. But‌…‌it’s not as restrictive. You can do what you want, say what you think. There’s more freedom.”

“Freedom. That seems a strange word to use in a place with violence and no rules. How can you be free if you never know what someone will do to you?”

Rodin thought of the last morning he woke in the Dome, of having someone trying to kill him. He thought of the attack by the river, of the countless times someone had tried to mug him in the streets, in alleys, on the stairs of buildings. And he remembered how he’d fought back.

“I suppose because they don’t know what you’ll do either.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s something you have to experience.”

She pulled at a non-existent thread on her jacket. “Is that possible? Could‌…‌could someone from the Dome go outside?”

“It’s possible.” Then he saw her eyes widen, the corners of her mouth turn up. He shook his head, raising a hand. “No.” He wanted to laugh at such a notion. “You’d‌…‌you’re not ready.”

“But‌…‌but if I had someone to help me. Maybe someone to teach me.”

“No.” Firmer now, desperate to stop this before it started. “I have enough problems looking after myself. It wouldn’t be fair on you. No.”

“But maybe someday?”

He shook his head. “Maybe.” Not what he wanted to say. “Anything’s possible, but not yet. Not for a long time.”

Rodin looked into the window, biting on his lower lip. He saw, in his peripheral vision, Paskia’s hands move, her mouth open and twitch. Knew she wanted to speak.

But she didn’t.

They rode the train in silence once more. Eventually, the blackness beyond the window morphed into bright lights, then a platform, a faded mural on the far side. The train stopped, and the doors slid open.

As Rodin followed Paskia off the train, he thought of the last time he walked with her, watching for the attack he knew was imminent. But he’d been wrong.

This whole contract was wrong. But maybe it was good that Cat had come to Rodin. If things went to plan, maybe this was for the best.

Rodin still had his doubts, though. There were too many unknowns, and too many people involved. When this was over for him, and he was back in the familiarity of the districts, what would happen in the Dome? How would Sertio cope, or Daventree? Would Shae find herself under greater scrutiny by Authority?

And what would happen to Paskia?

None of that should matter, but it did. And that worried Rodin.

The streets beyond the train station were deserted, and the streetlights spread a murky glow that merged with the shadows. They walked over cracked paving, and the grass to one side was filled with weeds. The brickwork on the buildings was blackened, severely in places, and Rodin could almost smell the charcoal in the air.

Paskia pulled her jacket tight to her body, and she shuddered. Rodin felt his hand fall to his hip, crossing his body to where he wore his blade. Not that he’d need it, but‌…‌but it was better to be prepared. Just in case.

He led the way now, the route firmly in his memory. The alley between two tall buildings, then turned left. Ahead, he could see the glass without craning his neck, and he knew that, if they were to walk past that final row of houses, they’d cross a bank of rubble and then they’d be able to reach out and touch the glass itself.

Home was so close.

But Rodin had this final job to do.

The building was in the final row, a single-storey wreck part-way along the terrace. The paint on the door was peeling, and there was a metal plate over one of the windows. There was a fence running in front of the building, but the gate hung from one hinge, and complained when Rodin pushed it to one side. The path was overgrown, and there was a stink of rotting vegetation.

But when he opened the small panel to the left of the door, the code pad was clean, looked almost new.

The fixer, back in Genna’s district, had told him the code, repeated it so that Rodin might remember it. That felt like so long ago, even though it was only a few hours. It was hard to believe he’d been home such a short time ago.

He entered the code and pushed the door. It swung back heavily, strong metal behind the cracked wood, and Rodin ushered Paskia inside.

She pulled a face. “I didn’t realise it would be this musty. Can we not open a window?”

“No. We won’t be here for long.”

It was just as he remembered it from his previous visit to the Dome. A single room, two chairs, a couple of strip lights that cast down a runny glow when he flicked the switch. One window sealed with a metal plate, the other covered by a curtain. There was a second curtain, folds of black heavy material pushed against the back wall.

And there was the panel in the wall. Hard to see, with the wall so cracked, but he knew where it was, knew how to make it swing open. Beyond the panel lay the stairs, then the tunnel, and finally the doorway. The one that led to the small room, the gatepost.

He wondered briefly if the gatekeeper would be the one he saw last time. Somehow he doubted it, but this one would be equally ready to take his money.

Rodin patted his jacket, over to the right. The notes lay there, a tightly-wrapped bundle. A large chunk of his savings. At least when Cat paid him for completing this contract, he’d get that money back.

“You know what to do?” He motioned for Paskia to take a seat.

She nodded, smoothed her trousers down as she leaned forward on the chair. “When the Councillor arrives, I welcome him in.”

“And…?”

A brief flash of panic crossed her face. “And I make sure he is away from the door. But‌…‌what if he refuses?”

If Leopold didn’t enter the building, Rodin would have to attack him on the street. But he couldn’t tell Paskia that. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself. How could he resist?”