City on Fire (Metropolitan 2) by Walter Jon Williams Read Free Book Online Page B

sky: The Situation Has Returned To Normal. Everything Is Safe. The New Government Asks That All Citizens Return to Work.
    “ Are we safe?” she asks.
    “Against what?”
    “An attack.”
    Delruss shrugs. “A lot of the collection web has holes blown in it. We’ve got telepresent mages patrolling the perimeter, but they can’t see everything. Twenty percent of the transmission horns are off-line, and a lot of the sabotage inflicted during the coup hasn’t been repaired yet. . . well, not exactly not repaired.”
    He sighs, prepares his long story. “Certain of the sabotage was performed by groups with particular interests, in anticipation of particular rewards. They are making certain they get these rewards before repairing the damage they made.”
    “I see,” Aiah says. She believes she now understands how she’s getting one of the twisted as her deputy. “So it’s lucky there’s no fighting going on right now.”
    “Yes, miss.”
    Aiah steps to the parapet and brushes wind-whipped hair from her eyes. She looks down, sees a statue in a niche below her, hanging from bronze straps. It’s the first time she’s seen one of these up close, and she sees that it’s three times human size, and that the upturned face is set into an expression of agony— eyes staring, lips drawn back in pain. Cold fingers brush her spine as she looks into the featureless metal eyes.
    “ What are these?” she asks. “They’re all over the building.”
    Delruss looks over the parapet and gazes unmoved into the agonized face. He’s probably seen much worse in his time.
    “Martyrs,” he said. “The Avians used to hang political and religious criminals from buildings to die of exposure.”
    Aiah is appalled. “Hanging off the Palace?” she asks.
    “ Not the Palace, but other buildings, yes. Originally there were other statues in these niches— gods, immortals, and Avians— but when the Avians fell, they put these here instead. And a lot of the local Dalavites hang themselves off buildings as a kind of ordeal, to commune with the spirits of their martyrs.”
    He looks at her, a trace of a smile touching his lips. “There were some tourist brochures in an office downstairs. I read them.”
    “I don’t suppose your brochure mentioned the Dreaming Sisters?”
    “Sorry, no. That’s new to me.”
    The sky shapes into an advertisement for the new Lynxoid Brothers chromoplay, the Lynxoids and the Blue Titan performing a violent dance across the sky. Aiah is freezing, and she’s seen enough for today.
    From the roof they descend into the structure, and Aiah inspects some of the local conduits, the electric switches that divert plasm from one place to another, the meters that record consumption for purposes of billing.
    She thanks Delruss and returns to her office to see if anyone has called— no message lights on the commo array— and finds that her new office furniture has been delivered. Since there seems little to do, she returns to her living quarters.
    The suite smells of fresh paint. The carpet has been cleaned, and a brand-new mattress waits on the bed, still in a clear plastic wrapper.
    It occurs to her that the situation is so fluid that she can only discover the limits of her authority by giving orders and seeing who obeys them. That she could so easily get service for her room and office argues for the fact that at least some people are inclined to do what she says.
    Get the office window repaired tomorrow, she thinks.
    She should make a list of everything she needs. Office supplies, access to the computers, scheduled use of the transmission horns, maybe access to secure files, if she can figure out where the secure files are ....
    Ask for it all, she thinks. Maybe she’ll get it.
    She finds a piece of paper and begins to make lists.
     
    THE WHOLE WORLD IS TALKING ABOUT
    LORDS OF THE NEW CITY
    MORE THAN JUST A CHROMOPLAY
     
    A bar. Middle of service shift, after the stores have started to close. The place is a