Tamaruq by E. J. Swift Read Free Book Online Page A

dead. We need someone who is immune to the system, and
you
, Rechnov – you have immunity.’
    When the evening finally arrives it feels no more real or unreal than any of the strange events that have preceded it. They drive to the place in Dien’s boat. She listens to the voice of the sea, trying to make out a message in its whisperings, wondering if fate has an eye to her today. The meet is in a drinking house. Before they go in, Dien tells her that this was where Vikram and his friends Nils and Drake used to meet. Adelaide has no way of knowing whether it is true, or another piece of emotional ammunition to make her perform, but when they go inside she sees their photographs on the wall, pinned up with others, a collage of faces, southerners and Boreal, young and old. Among them is a man whose face is familiar from the newsfeeds, a man she watched drown: Eirik 9968. Beneath the collage is a tin of salt, the metal scratched and tarnished. Dien and the others go to the wall and perform the salt ritual, and Adelaide does the same, the grains falling somewhere behind her, over her shoulder – she can’t hear them land above the general rowdiness of the place.
    It is a shock to see Vikram’s face. In the photograph he looks quietly confident, in a way she struggles to remember now but knows must have been true. The image must have been taken during his time in the City.
    The place has a raw, unfinished quality with the upturned kegs and crates set out as seats, the naked bulbs swinging overhead. There are a lot of people here. Dien’s people are standing very close to her, all of them carrying concealed knives or handguns, and Dien’s flippant remarks about someone stabbing her take on an uncomfortable layer of truth and she realizes she is deeply, fiercely scared in a way she hasn’t felt for weeks.
    ‘Ready?’ says Dien.
    ‘Don’t have a choice, do I?’
    ‘No.’
    Dien jumps onto a keg to speak. Her introduction is quick and energetic. She has a natural way with a crowd.
    Having caught the room’s attention, Dien gets down to business.
    ‘All right. I said I had a surprise for you. And here it is. Or rather, here
she
is.’
    Adelaide senses the people surrounding her tense in anticipation. Fear stiffens her spine.
    This is it.
    She has a fleeting memory, of standing on a podium amid the old-world grandeur of the Council Chambers, beckoning Vikram to join her.
    ‘I present to you our new speaker for western rights – Adelaide Rechnov!’
    Dien bends down and with a theatrical, if slightly clumsy gesture, whips the hat from Adelaide’s head.
    There are a few moments of silence during which Adelaide feels the weight of scrutiny, her face under the lens of a magnifying glass, like never before. Then the room erupts. Dien’s people gather closely around her, forming a barrier between Adelaide and the crowd, crushing her. Voices are raised in uproar. Through the barrier of familiar bodies she feels the impact of strangers, lunging to get at her.
    If they reach me, I’ll be crushed before anyone can even pull a knife.
    She hears a glass shatter. She hears Dien shouting above the melee, telling everyone to calm down. Hands grasp at her, pulling her up onto the table. Whichever way it goes she will be exposed. Now she’s standing next to Dien, an easy target. Dien has taken up a defensive stance, using her body to shield Adelaide from assault. A splash of liquid catches Adelaide square in the face and splatters over both of them. She can taste the tartness of alcohol on her lips, shocking in its sudden intensity. Dien is shouting and gesticulating with both arms.
    ‘Shut up! Shut the fuck up and listen to what she has to say!’
    She shouts into Adelaide’s ear.
    ‘Go on. Go on! You’ll just have to start.’
    A glass flies overhead, narrowly missing both of their heads.
    ‘This is insane!’
    Dien shrugs and ducks.
    ‘Do or die, Rechnov.’
    Adelaide pulls out the piece of paper on which she had