The Man Who Could Walk Through Walls
an excerpt

Prologue
Those who didn't know him called him the Devil.
Others who claimed to know him said that was an insult ... to the Devil.
I knew him. Knew him well. As well as anyone ever did. Many of you out there thought he was crazy. I don't think he was. Yes, he fell into madness, for a time. Death will do that to you, and he took it longer than anyone before or since. Let's see you die a thousand deaths and have your psyche torn to pieces and come out the other side of that a whole person. He left a lot behind during those many trips. He had his demons, and his nightmares. Who among us doesn't? Especially those who came through the War. He who hath no sin cast the first stone.
Believe it or not, he was capable of great goodness. The historians never like to talk about this. It doesn't fit the agenda. How do I know? Because I was a witness. I saw it with my own eyes. I watched him save children, I watched him show mercy to the wretched and helpless. He gave refuge to hordes who probably didn't deserve it. Hell, he saved millions. No one gives him credit for that. They only listen to the bad stories; the claims of atrocities and murders. Yes, Chelsea Gate happened. I'm not a denialist. I like to think I'm just being honest. The truth is bad enough; but Jesus Christ, it was war! The worst war ever. The last war. We all have much to answer for. Do you?
Most of the stories I've heard are fantasies and lies. I know it, because I came to know the man. In his less lucid moments, I heard Nap Chance himself admit to murder. "You realize I've killed women and children," he told me, his eyes glazed over from decades of Death. But, people, understand, he overcame. He rose from the ashes of his ruined soul and built something great; something enduring. He built Sanctuary from nothing but rubble and hope.
There aren't many of us left ... those who remember the War and the Black Times after. Nap Chance was the only hope we had - and continue to have now that he's gone. We've lost contact with so many of the other worlds. They've blinked out on the airwaves one by one like the embers of a dying fire.
I realized recently that I've got to get it all down in words. I'm old now; I perhaps only have a few years left. And it might take years to tell the whole story of Nap Chance and St. Martin Colombo. At least what I know of it. There's much of his past that continues to be a mystery, and I suspect even to him.
First of all, Nap Chance and Martin Colombo really did know one another - those stories are absolutely true. A lot of people didn't believe Nap, but the conviction in his eye when he spoke of Martin Colombo was real, let me tell you. They served on the same ship together in their youth and were together for a time during the War on Martin Colombo's sanctuary he built out past Rhiannon. Nap saw what Martin Colombo had started before those Earth bastards came along and destroyed it. Martin gave Nap the idea to do it again; to do it right the second time.
What happened to Martin Colombo made Nap realize that he had to make Sanctuary so strong and terrifying that no one would ever fuck with it again.

Chapter One
He had told them to raise the heat. Still he felt cold, bundled up in blankets in front of a roaring fire.
He always felt cold now. One of the interesting side effects of Death. It somehow sapped your body's ability to regulate its temperature.
Perhaps he could Walk to a warmer place; a warmer universe. He had never explored the other place all that much. Didn't know how to, really. It was simply a way station, a trail to other places in this universe. He had never learned how to test its boundaries. To see if it had side passages or channels, or whatever they were. Mentally, he logged that away as something to look into. To explore the Walk Universe.
Within seconds he had forgotten the idea.
He could manage all right, stay focused, for a few hours in the middle of the day, but in the long, silent hours of the night, his mind wandered easily, and it wandered much.
He thought much of Rogue and Martin. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because that's where he first met her. Where things started to go so wrong. He replayed events over and over, thinking if he had handled things differently, if he hadn't been such a stupid young buck maybe things would have ended differently. He spent long hours imagining he was back there, making things right with Liz. Perhaps he even drifted there physically while under the influence of Death. He wasn't sure.
It was so hard to be sure of anything in those black, quiet hours.
Such as when Liz came to visit him. Was it a dream or was it her ghost?
"It's sweltering in here," Liz said. She was dressed in a light nightgown. She moved languidly, sensuously, her bare feet padding on the stone floor. She slinked down into a chair like a cat.
Not the way he remembered Liz moving at all. She was always a bit of a butch job. In fact, when he first met her, he thought she had to be lesbian.
Young, stupid buck.
The light of the fire turned her long, brunette hair amber.
"Can you get them to turn up the heat?" He croaked.
"Me? They can't hear me. I'm a ghost, remember?"
"Ah, yes," he said, "well, you could probably raise the heat if you wanted to."
"If I made it any warmer in here, I'm afraid I'd set off the fire alarms. You're just going to have to bundle up," she smirked.
"What do you want tonight, Liz?"
"What do I always want?"
Nap smiled. "To torment me."
Liz pursed her lips. "Oh, you think so little of me, Nap."
"You could go away ... if you wanted to. You really don't need to come here."
She pinched her nose. "Is that what you want? Then why did you even make me the way I am?"
"I don't know anymore."
"But, I enjoy your company, Nap."
He laughed. "Really? What about it do you enjoy?"
"I enjoy watching you fall apart."
"So you are here to torment you. You're a liar on top of a being a sadist."
"Oh, no, it's not about hurting you. It's about my enjoyment. You see, the way I figure it, Nap, you owe me. This is your payment to me."
"Owe you? For what?"
"For making me the way I am. A ghost. A figment. Alive and yet not alive."
Nap swallowed. "Give the word and I'll pull the plug."
"Haven't I asked? Haven't I dropped every hint imaginable? You can't pull the plug. You can't kill me. You can't bring yourself to do it."
"I've killed ..."
"Yes, you've killed and murdered and left a slag heap of butchered humanity in your wake. I know, Nap. I know the whole story. That's when you were a stronger man. A bigger man than the husk who wallows before my bosom today."
"I wasn't a bigger man," Nap said.
*********
Montoya took another no-doz pill. There simply weren't enough hours in the day for all his duties. He rubbed his eyes, hated the foggy feeling and persistent dull ache in his head that came from too much caffeine, not enough
Of course, everyone believed Nap Chance was in firm control. It was fine to keep those appearances up; in fact, it was critical in keeping the myriad of fragile coalitions on Sanctuary and its outlying allies intact.
But, in fact, Nap was losing control. Had been for some time now. Even if he were healthy, was he was attempting was virtually impossible, trying to unite the scattered dregs left behind in the wake of the War by sheer force of his will.
They were murderers, drug runners, sexual predators, the worst psychopaths alive. Amazing how they were the ones who always survived. And Nap Chance was trying to make them legitimate.
There were the victims, of course. Millions of them had gathered on Sanctuary. Hopelessly addicted to Death, or worse - and yes, things worse than even Death had come along in the dark days of the War. Hopelessly dying from viruses cooked up in the Earthen God-fearing labs. Orphans. Aggrieved widows and widowers. Hopelessly lost and buried in despair.
They came to Sanctuary to find that hope again. Some did.

And Orphans. They came by the shiploads. There were millions of them. Most of them likely would have been future customers of Death, but Nap wouldn't have it. He forbade dealing of Death to children, to the non-addicted. He tracked down and executed those who broke his edict. No one got away with it. Not for long, at least. He always seemed to be able to find them.
He executed thousands before the dealers finally bought a clue.
Nap always had a soft spot for the Orphans. Montoya always wondered if it was because they were called St. Martin's Children.
"St. Martin had a good idea," Nap once told Montoya, "it was a good beginning. But, I'm going to do it right."
Sanctuary, a teeming, thriving, desperate beacon of 100 million souls, with another 100 million in the outlying worlds.
It was all that was left of the great colonies. That and Corona.
Now, the last two stands of humanity stood poised on one final conflict. One that Montoya feared neither side could win.
Nap Chance was tap dancing along the edge of a razor. And Montoya feared he was dying, his marrow finally eaten away by decades of Death. No one had lived as long as Nap Chance on Death. He was the world champion. But Montoya didn't see how he could keep it up much longer. He expected to find him dead in bed any day now.
Then, there would be chaos.

Chapter four
Sonie

Sales were going poorly today. She had only managed a few coins, barely enough to make a full pound.
Barely enough to eat.
There was the bad baker, who would give her bread discounted (never quite free, he wasn't that big-hearted.), but only if she did a dance for him. She had done it once or twice, in desperation, but she hadn't liked the look in his eye, or the smell of his sweat. After the second time she had shamed herself, she decided she would never return there.
That meant having to make - and sell - more of her little wire sculptures. She had to sell six of them to buy one loaf of bread.
She was good with her hands. She could make different kind of people. Old, disapproving matrons, soldiers, butchers. She made animals such as horses and sandcats and scorpions. She even could make one of Nap Chance. Those always sold quickly. Even though they were technically illegal, no one in Sorresatt cared.
Today was especially bad because a mean group of boys came by, knocked down her stand, and stole a bunch of her little sculptures. One of them shoved her and she scraped her knee.
Sniffling, not expecting any sympathy from the hordes walking past, she dutifully set her stand back up again, put her remaining works back on display. She still had about half of them left. She didn't expect the boys to return. They had had their fun. They would find something else to steal, to destroy.
All in all a bad day. She would not go back to the bad baker. Never again. She would rather go hungry. She was used to it. Her knee throbbed. Her stomach growled.
A tall, thin man walked by her stand, dawdled for a moment. She was hopeful he was a customer, but he looked too wealthy to bother with her little sculptures. He wore an expensive-looking coat. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He was surely going to get rolled walking through this part of Sorresatt looking like that.
The tall man left. She felt a dark chill down her back when he returned 30 minutes later.
Sonie knew his type. He was like the bad baker.
Sonie was tired of men looking at her that way. Every once in a while, one of them did more than look. Such as the man who came to live with her and her mother. Her mother had finally thrown her out onto the street when she found her new friend had climbed into bed with her. Sonie stayed away for a few weeks, then went back.
They were gone. She asked some of the others in the building what had happened to them, but was told only that they had left. The man had said something about maybe having work waiting for him in another city, far away.
Sonie didn't miss her mother. She missed her little brother terribly.
She had long given up hope she would ever see him again.
Sonie found a children's home. She discovered that children were allowed to wander their way in, but there were guards at the gate to keep them from leaving.
The man who ran the camp insisted that girls sleep with him. Sonie slept with him a few times. He always hurt her when he penetrated her. He was rougher than even her mother's boyfriend.
They put her to work making shoes. They didn't pay her. They just gave her a bed, a flea-ridden, foul-smelling ratty bed, and two meals a day, one in the morning and one at night. The meals were cold and didn't taste good.
They beat the children if they dawdled while making shoes. Sonie had seen children beaten so badly they curled up on the floor and never got back up again. Guards just eventually came and dragged them off. Sometimes they hit the children for no reason. Sonie had taken a couple of beatings, including a blow to the head that left her dizzy for a couple of days. She had taken her worst beating after an especially rough night with the man who ran the home. He had been drinking, and Sonie could tell from his dilated eyes that he had taken Death, too.
The man started hitting her while raping her. He had a club for girls who didn't behave. She raised her left arm to protect herself and he had caught her in the forearm. She heard a crack.
Her arm throbbed so bad after that she couldn't sleep. It swelled up and turned purple from elbow to wrist. She could barely use her arm or her left hand. She was slow making shoes, trying her best with only one working hand. They had beat her bad that day. Beat her on the arm, and made it hurt worse.
Near the the end, there were mean boys there, who dragged her into a back alley in the middle of the day and raped her. They told her if she let on, they would cut her. They had stabbed her in the arm with a rusty blade to make their point. Cut her in the face. To this day, she carried a ragged inch-long scar on her cheek that that night.
That was the last straw. The first chance she got, she ran away. A number of children broke free through the back gates one night during the shoe deliveries. Sonie was quick to realize what was going on, and she made it through the gate with a dozen other children. She heard the crack of gunshots behind her and realized they were gunning down some of the children.
She ran all night. Ran until exhausted. She vowed she would rather die than ever go back there again. She had heard that trucks from the home would cruise neighbourhoods of Sorresatt, looking for gutter children like her when they ran out kids to work.
So, she continued running, getting as far away from the home as she could manage. She ran and hid any time she saw a big truck approach, worried it might be one of those trucks from the home.
She slept in the streets now, with a homemade shiv up her skirt in case anyone tried to have their way with her again. Enough, she had thought. She would kill if it ever came to that again.
She joined up with a few girls near her age. A couple were younger, but most were older. They drug through trash for food scraps, begged on the streets, ran when the police tried to round them up. Back to the children's home they would go if the police caught them. Sonie decided if a policeman ever got his hands on her, she'd stab him. Not enough to kill him, just enough to avoid going back to the children's home. She decided she'd rather go to prison.
A couple of the younger girls did get caught, and their little gang was whittled down.
Sonie lost her gang when the older girls decided to go to work for the local pimp. The pimp gave them their first taste of Death and they liked it. They tried to talk Sonie into it, but she refused. She had seen what both had done to her mother. The pimp even came looking for her, but Sonie ran, far away, to a whole new neighbourhood where no one knew her. She didn't want to see those girls again.
She vowed she would never join a gang again. She was on her own utterly to the end.
One day, digging through trash for food scraps, she had found bits of wire, and in her idle time because twisting them into shapes. She was surprised when someone saw one of her little men and offered her a coin for it.
"I kin make more, if your like," she said, and quickly fashioned another piece of wire into a dog. The man thought that was cute and gave her another coin.
Since then, she had actually become quite good, making increasingly elaborate small sculptures, even making entire scenes out of wire and small bits of metal, such as the Baby Jesus in the Manger, or St. Martin's Orphanage.
She dreamt at times that she was in St. Martin's Orphanage, that he was looking over her. He was long gone, however. She loved the story of St. Martin, and wished he would come rescue her.
"Did you want to buy anything sir?" She said to the tall man. "Your seem interested."
"You're a native," he said.
"Errr, how do your mean?"
"Your accent, you're a native of Sorresatt."
"I was born here, yer."
"How much for all of them?"
"Errr?"
"All of your little people. How much for all of them."
The chill on Sonie's back turned particularly cold. No one ever wanted to buy all of them. Especially not someone dressed this nice.
Still, if she could sell all of them, she would have enough to eat for at least three or four days. She found herself fingering the shiv in her skirt.
"Err, I dunno. I've never sold all of them."
"Is this enough." He handed her a note. It was for 10 pounds.
All of them together were barely worth a single pound.
"Err, what do your want, mister?"
"Ten pounds. You look starving."
"Yer, I'm hungry, but what do your want."
"Ten pounds, I'll buy your little men and animals, and take you to a nice place to eat." He leaned closer. "Just to eat. Nothing more."
"Yer sure?"
"I'm positive."
"Usually a fellow like you wants more than just to eat."
"I'm sure. These are tough streets. Too tough for one as little as you."
Sonie sniffed. "I'm not so little. I can take care of myself." She flashed the blade in her skirt.
"Yes, I can see that."
"The place I know is just down this street."
"Don't try anything funny." The man collected her sculptures, put them in the pocket of his coat and led her to the restaurant.
It was actually down the street and around the corner, on one of Sorresatt's main streets, the kind of place Sonie and her kind didn't normally congregate. They kept to the back streets and alleys and shadows.
It was a good restaurant, at least by Sonie's standards, the kind of place that normally would never serve her. She got a couple of glares from other tables, but nothing she wasn't used to. This was Sorresatt. Gutter folk wandered into these places at times. Especially if they were accompanied by a man of wealth. Far stranger things were seen in Sorresatt.
"What is your name?"
"Sonie, sir. If we're just eating, you don't need to know my name, do yer?"
"I'm sorry, I haven't been completely forthright with you. Just a meal, as I promised, and conversation."
"Conver...?"
"I just want to talk, Sonie, I want to ask you some questions."
"What would you want to know from me?"
"Simple things. Nothing to be worried about."
"You want something from me, more than my stupid wire men."
"Yes, you're bright, Sonie. I think I want you to meet someone."
"Why?"
"This is someone who can take you from this place. For good."
"Why would anyone want to do that?"
"You've never been shown compassion, have you, Sonie?"
She rubbed her hands together. The man was making her nervous. She had half a mind to bolt for the door. Hunger be damned. "I don't know what that is," she said.
But, the food in the restaurant smelled so good.
He ordered her a slice of buttered bread and hot onion soup.
"I know you don't, Sonie," he said.
She never got butter on her bread. She barely knew what it was to begin with, but it tasted good, so she eagerly wolfed it down, then she slurped up her soup. The man had to tell to try to eat more quietly.
"That's just the opening course," he said. "You get more. You can go more slowly. They'll wait for you."
"Do I get dessert?" She had had dessert a couple of times. Stale cookies thrown out.
"Yes, you can eat whatever you want, Sonie, if you just answer some questions."
"I told you I don't know very much."
The man pulled one of her figurines out of his pocket. It was one of her sandcats, a particularly easy one to make. "You're actually remarkably talented. There is a lot of detail in this."
She shrugged her shoulders. "It just takes a lot of practice."
"How old are you, Sonie?"
"Fourteen, I think." Truth be told, she wasn't sure. She might have been thirteen. She couldn't remember.
"Why aren't you in a children's shelter."
"I ran away. It was bad there."
"Yes I know, those places are bad. What was the name of it."
"St. Martin's. But it wasn't like St. Martin's Orphanage at all. It wasn't nice."
The man pulled out a notebook and wrote something down. The waitress came and after giving it a moment's thought, ordered her a roast turkey dinner.
"I'm not sure what you're capable of keeping down, frankly," he said.
"I kin eat just about anything."
"Yes, you say that, but I have a feeling your stomach isn't used to real food."
The man smiled. "You have a real Sorresatt accent. It's quite charming."
The waitress brought a basket of bread, and a small bowl of butter.
"Kin I have more?"
"Yes, of course, Sonie, but only one more piece, I don't want you to get sick."
She pointed at the butter. "Kin I have more of that?"
"Yes. Put on as much as you like."
"You're positive you were born here?"
"I've lived here as long as I remember."
"Who are your parents?"
"I don't know who my da was. My mum had boyfriends, but she told me they weren't my da.."
"What was her name?"
"Jailyn."
"Her full name?"
"Jailyn Reneau."
"She couldn't have been very old. Did you know her age?"
Sonie shook her head. "She didn't have any grey hair or wrinkles, if that's what you mean."
"Was she on Death, Sonie?"
"Ay, and her boyfriends, too."
"What happened to her?"
Sonie shrugged her shoulders. "She left."
"Without you?"
"She left Sorresatt. They went to another city."
"Do you know which one?"
Sonie shrugged. "They didn't tell anyone."
"And she left you behind?"
Sonie gnawed on her bread. "Ay."
"Why would she do that?"
"Because her boyfriend liked me too much. I didn't do nothing to lead him on. It was all him."
"So you're all alone, on the street, selling these?"
"Ay."
"Did you try the children's home? You're still young enough."
"I didn't like it there. They made me do bad things."
"I see..."
Her roast turkey came, with mashed potatoes and string beans and gravy. It was the most food Sonie had ever seen.
She picked at the potatoes with her hands.
"No, no, Sonie, use the silverware."
He meant the fork and knife. She had used them before, at her home. That had been so long ago. She had forgotten how. She used the fork to eat the beans and the potatoes. The turkey was much more difficult. There was a little knife, very dull, very useless. You really couldn't cut someone with it. She couldn't use both the fork and the knife, however.
"What's wrong with your arm, Sonie?"
"It doesn't work so great ... anymore."
"I've noticed you hold it awkwardly. Is it broken?"
She shook her head. "I kin use it a little bit. I kin use my fingers. But, it's hard for me to use these things."
"I'll help you," he said. He cut her turkey for her into a few of bite-sized pieces. Sonie felt stupid. She couldn't even feed herself. Not in a fancy place like this, anyway.
So far, his questions seemed benign enough. He seemed to want to know more about her mother than her. Sonie dug in. It was delicious. She always had to eat with the left side of her mouth, because the teeth on her right side were in bad shape and hurt terribly. She winced when hot food touched it. Instinctively, she rubbed her cheek.
"You have a toothache," the man said.
Sonie's mouth was full. She nodded.
"Did your mother ever talk about your father?"
Sonie shook her head. "No, she didn't know who he was, actually."
"Was your mum a prostitute?"
She knew what a prostitute was. It was a big word for whore. "Ay, sometimes. Her last boyfriend wouldn't let her do that, though. He said he was going to make money for her."
"I suspect dealing Death somewhere."
"I dunno, he never said."
"Where do you sleep, Sonie?"
"I have a little house, in an alley. I made it myself."
"Really, out of what?"
"Pieces of old wood, cardboard. It keeps the rain out."
"How do you keep people out of it?"
"People know it's mine. I put a sign on it. An' I know how to use this." She displayed the knife.
The man smiled. "I'm sure you do. So you know how to read?"
"I kin write my name."
"Anything else?"
She rubbed her hands. "Anything else I have trouble with."
"They never had you go to school."
"They never made me go, my mum needed me to stay home to take care of my brother."
"Do you like your little house?"
Sonie shrugged. "It's all right, I s'ppose."
"What would you think if I told you there might be a way for you to live? There might be food for you every day? Real food. Not garbage."
"What would you think if I told you you didn't need to make any more of your sculptures?"
"I would think that you prob'ly want something in return, mister."
"I don't want what you think. I'm sure that's all you think men want from you, Sonie, with what you've been through."
"You still want something."
"You're right, Sonie. But, it's not something hard, trust me."
He pulled out a napkin and drew a map on it. "I know you can't read, Sonie, but you can match the letters here with the letters on a building, right."
"I s'ppose."
"Follow this map to the main road through Sorresatt. There's a big building there, where important people stay. It's called the Nag's Head." He pointed to the name on the napkin. "Can you memorize that?"
"Aye, that's not hard."
"I thought so, I can tell you're quite bright. In two days time, I'll be back here, and I'll have some of my friends with me. I think they're going to want to meet you. There'll be food for you, roast turkey again, if you like. And instead of 10 pounds, we'll pay you 50 pounds if you come."
"What do your friends want with me?"
"Just to meet, Sonie, and talk. Like I said, it's not what you think."
"I swore I wouldn't ever become one of those girls," she said, "None of 'em ever last long."
"I realize that, Sonie. You're absolutely right. None of them last. Four, five years max, that's all they last before someone kills them, or they get the Superbug, or Death takes them. Like I said, you're very bright."
"Is this on the up and up. 50 pounds for real." Her heart raced. She could eat for over a month with 50 pounds.
"All you have to do is show up and listen after mid-day. If you're not interested, you can take your 50 pounds and leave."
"You promised I could have dessert," she said.
"Of course, have you ever had apple pie?"
Sonie shook her head.
At the end of their meal, he handed her the 10-pound note. Sonie quickly hid in beneath her skirt. The man left her on the big street. Sonie looked around furtively. She never had anything worth stealing. Now, she might be a target. She would have headed straight for a bakery, for cheap
Truth be told, her stomach was upset. She had eaten too much and her digestive system was protesting all the rich food it wasn't used to. She had been nervous as a cat all through the meal, convinced the man was trying to fool her into trusting him, so he could rape her.
She wasn't sure she wanted to show up at the Nag's Head. 50 pounds was a lot, but she wasn't naïve enough to believe they wouldn't want a lot in return. What could they possibly want for 50 pounds. She knew she wasn't worth that. The women who worked the corners only got 5 pounds a trick. They were a lot older and more knowledgeable than Sonie.
She dug a hole in the bottom of her house to bury the 10 pound note. She slept as always, clutching her shiv.
By noon the following day, she was hungry again, and went to a bakery. She could have bought just about any other food, but bread is what she knew, so she bought herself a whole loaf. The baker asked where she got the note, demanded that she admit it if she stole it, but she explained that a nice man bought all of her wire sculptures for 10 pounds. She could tell he didn't believe her, but, ultimately, he didn't care where it came from. While she was at it, she bought herself a sweet pastry.
She realized she loved sweets. She didn't care that they made her teeth hurt.
Xxxxxxx
After two days, she found herself wandering to the Nag's Head. She knew she probably shouldn't. But, the man at dinner hadn't done anything to hurt her, and let her go.
She found the building with little trouble. The lettering above the door matched the lettering on her napkin, like he had said. She waited for over an hour, watching the building, before going in.
There was a big main room with a clerk behind a counter. She had no idea what kind of place this was. He picked up a voice box (she had seen them before, just not on the streets where she lived) and quietly spoke into it. Moments later, the man from the restaurant came down some stairs and met her.
"Sonie, I'm so glad you came."
"Do you have the 50 pounds?" she said. "I came like you said."
The man smiled and reached into his pocket, pulled out a small purse. "Here it is. But you have to come and meet my friends."
"Kin we just meet here?"
"Sonie, it would be best if we met in private. I promise nothing bad would happen. Did anything bad happen at the restaurant?"
"No, but there were lots people around."
"There are lots of people here. In all the rooms of the building. Do you like roast beef? We have roast beef."
"You just want to talk."
"We just want to talk, Sonie. If anyone tries to touch you, I promise I will stop them myself."
"All right."
They were staying in a room at the very top of the building. In fact, the entire top floor was the room. Sonie felt more and more nervous each flight of stairs they want up. All that meant to her was she was that much further from escape. Sonie had taken her shiv from her skirt and had it hidden in the sleeve of her blouse, tied to her wrist with a string, so she could use it faster.
There were four men in the room.
Sonie could never take all four of them. She should have never come. The door shut behind her. A big man stood at the door.
"I ... I think ... I oughta go..."
"Sonie, we have a meal waiting for you. We've been waiting a long time, you know. It's a long time after mid-day."
Sure enough, there was a table set with silverware. A huge slab of red meat sat the center of the table. There was a man in a white suit there with a carving knife.
"Come, sit."
Like the restaurant, there was lots of bread and potatoes. The man in the white suit cut her a large swath of meat and laid it gently on a silver plate. It smelled so good. A woman pulled a chair out for her and gestured for her to sit. She sat. The man poured her a glass of red water.
"Uh, Robert, I don't think so. I don't think she's ever drank that before."
"Sorry, sir." He took the glass away and poured her another glass of clean water.
"I've had juice before."
"Have you had wine?"
"No." She had never seen it before. She knew what it was, though. It was like the fireweed water people made. It got them almost as high as Death.
"I don't think this should be your first time. It can make you sick if you're not used to it."
"Pepper?" the man in the white suit said, holding a big, wooden stick over her plate.
"W-what?"
"Go ahead, Robert." He twisted the stick and black powder came out of the bottom.
"Go ahead, Sonie, dig in."
"Is anyone else eating?"
"We've already eaten. This is all for you."
"Is there dessert?"
"Chocolate cream pie," Restaurant Man said. "Very rare. Very hard to find. But, that's after the main course."
They cut her meat again for her because she couldn't cut it herself. She ate. It was even better than the roast turkey.
She remembered not to stuff herself like she had at the restaurant. She had eaten so much she had nearly thrown up later.
She noticed halfway through her meal there was a man sitting in the corner of the room. He hadn't moved or spoke the whole time she ate.
He just sat. And watched. Sonie fingered the knife at her wrist.
The chocolate cream pie was delicious, too.
"Wasn't that worth coming, Sonie?"
"Kin ... kin I have my money now?"
"You still haven't talked with my friends."
"I don't know what to say to them, mister."
"Come and meet my good friend. His name is Mr. Mendlesohn."
It was the man in the corner. The man in black led her over to him.
Mendlesohn stood up. He also was dressed in a good suit. He wasn't as tall. His hair was clean and grey and combed back. He had a grey beard. He leaned down close to Sonie, his eyes blazing into her. Sonie looked away.
"Good Lord," Mendlesohn breathed.
"I told you," the restaurant man said.
"I really thought you were wasting my time, Donald."
"Yes, it's serendipity. To have something like this fall into our laps."
"On Corona of all places. The irony. You really don't know who your father is?"
"No .. no." What did they want from her?
"I suppose it is just serendipity, then. You know, her eyes are the wrong colour."
"We can fix that quite easily."
"Damn, she's young."
"I don't think that's a problem. She was young, too, when he first met her."
"Hair's right. Lips and chin are good." He reached out to touch her cheek. "Are you going to bite?" he said. He reached out to touch her cheek. Sonie flinched. "Ssssh," he said. Sonie was too afraid to fight. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. Then pulled it back and wiped it clean with a handkerchief.
"Her cheekbones are wrong. They need to be higher."
"We can fix that."
"We need to lose the accent."
"Not necessarily. I find it charming. So might he. There are plenty of Corona folk on Sanctuary. That won't make him suspicious."
"Well, we at least need to educate her a bit. Get her to use some better grammar."
"Why-why?" Sonie realized she was trembling. This man terrified her.
"I still think this will never work."
"It won't hurt. I believe it's worth the investment."
"Mmm, perhaps, if he never catches on...we'll have to do something about the memory."
"Again, we can take care of that in due time."
"Sonie? Is it? Do you have a last name."
"Not really, mister. Everyone just calls me Sonie."
"Come, sit." A chair was provided for her. She noticed that like the other chair, linen had been placed over it.
"Do you like selling sculptures, Sonie?"
"It's better than other things."
"Ah, yes, I know what you mean. It's rough in Sorresatt, isn't it? It really isn't a very nice place."
Sonie shrugged.
Mendlesohn sat across from her. "You've been raped."
Sonie played with her skirts. "Why do you want to know about that?"
"A girl like you, on the streets of Sorresatt. You've been raped. How many times? A dozen? A hundred?"
"I don't know, mister."
"Here's what's going to happen. They're going to continue to rape you, Sonie. They're going to beat you, and cut you some more. They will damage you much worse than you've already been damaged.
"You're going to have to give up your sculptures, Sonie, because they won't be enough. You're going to have to sell yourself.
"No-No, I saw what it did to mum..."
"You're going to have to, Sonie. You won't have a choice. Your family, such as it was, abandoned you to the streets. They didn't love you. You were just another mouth to feed. You have nothing to fall back on."
Mendlesohn got out of his chair and stood behind her, leaned down and spoke low.
"The time will come when you haven't eaten in days, and you won't have a choice. You'll have to do it to survive. I'm not passing judgment on you, Sonie. I see you're a good person, better than most that come out of Sorresatt, but in the end, the streets always win. I'm quite impressed that you've tried to resist your fate. Most don't. But, have you ever seen anyone escape the streets? Ever?"
She shook her head, unable to speak. Why was he being so mean to her?
"You're teeth are all going to fall out, Sonie. They're beginning to now. They're rotten because you can't take care of them. And they'll become infected and you'll get sick.
"And you're arm is going to get worse. It's going to get weaker and weaker. It will become harder and harder for you to defend yourself. Men will see that you only have one good arm to protect yourself with. You can't keep that hidden forever. Word will get out about the one-armed girl who can't protect herself. And they will hurt.
"And you're going to get the Superbug. Girls on the streets always do. And you're going to do Death. Girls on the streets always do."
"No."
"You know I'm speaking the truth, Sonie. Haven't you seen all the girls end up the same way?"
She nodded. She had. Her mother. The girls in her gang. All the same.
"Sonie, you've stood outside the brothels, haven't you? You've stood outside them and thought, long and hard, about how life must be better there. Truth be told, it probably would be. You probably would last longer. You'd have some protection. But, in the end, even there, the Death and the Superbug will find you. When you stood outside those brothels, did the girls there look healthy? Did they look like they would live much longer?"
She had stood in front of them. How had he known? And the women there had had the walking dead look in their eyes after years of Death. The look Sonie remembered from her mother's eyes. That had been what always scared her away eventually.
Sonie shook her head.
"There's no hope for you, Sonie. You're doomed. You're going to die. You're going to die soon. If not this year, then next, or the year after that on the outside. If not by violence, then by disease, or death, or your will being broken. Sorresatt is a mean place, Sonie. In fact, it's evil. It shouldn't be allowed to exist. It should be wiped out. It was your rotten luck to be born here."
Sonie fought down tears. She couldn't look at him. She looked down at her skirts. "Why are you saying these things, mister?'
Mendlesohn leaned closer. "I'm not saying these things to be mean, Sonie. I'm saying them because we have another way for you to go.You have a choice."
"What?"
"You can come with us. You'll have food. You'll have clean clothes. A safe place to sleep. We'll fix those painful teeth. We can fix your arm." He pointed at the scar on her cheek. "We can even fix that, Sonie. Hot baths, Sonie. You'll have hot baths. Have you ever had one?"
She shook her head. Even when she had had a home, there had never been hot water.
"You want me to do to me all those same things the other men want to do?"
"Sonie, we could have any woman we want. Experienced high-class women. That's not what we want from you.
"We want something much, much more important."
"You don't have to decide here and now, Sonie," Restaurant man said. "We can see this is a lot for you to digest. Sleep on it for a couple of nights. Then, if you're interested, come back here in two days."
"If I agree, kin you do something for me in return ... if this is important?"
"What is it, Sonie?"
"Kin you help me find my brother?"
The man named Mendlesohn didn't answer immediately. "I'm going to be honest, Sonie, that would be difficult. You don't know what city they went to. I doubt you have any pictures of him."
"His name's Jamie," she said. "He's six."
"A name and age don't help us that much."
"You know my mum's name, maybe you can find him that way."
"It would still be difficult. There are no records to track on Corona. I won't lie to you, Sonie, I can't promise that we'll find your mother and brother."
"I don' care about mum," she said. "I hate her. I just want you to find my brother."
"All right, Sonie. All we can do is promise to try," he said.
"All right."
xxxxxxxx
They let her go. Sonie felt like for the first time in hours she could take a real breath.
They told her that if she was interested, she could come back to the Nag's Head in another two days time. They would take her away from Sorresatt. Forever.
It was dark by the time she got back to her alley, and a couple of scary people had taken over her house. She could maybe fend one off with her knife, but not two. When she saw them sitting in the opening of her shack, she scurried off. She found a spot behind some trash cans to sleep.
She had to be careful with her 50 pounds. No one knew she had money; she had to be careful no one saw her actually spend it. She walked to a better neighbourhood, not too good so she would stand out, but good enough that she didn't have to worry quite so much about being robbed.
She had made up her mind she would go with the men. But, she didn't trust they were serious. What if it were some elaborate trick? Just to give her hope, then make her feel bad. Maybe the men would all sit around drinking and laughing about how they fooled poor Sonie. It would be the kind of thing rich men would do.
Sonie couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched. Did she see the same car a few times this day? All the cars in Sorresatt looked alike to her. Big and unattainable.
Had someone somehow found out she had had money. 50 pounds wouldn't be that much to someone with a big car, but who knew?
Sonie bought herself a sandwich with turkey. She had liked the turkey dinner a few nights ago. She had the man behind the counter break the 50 into 5-pound notes, so she could actually spend them in her neighbourhood. The man glared at her, just like when she had the 10-pound note.
"I didn't steal it," she said to him.
"Ay, whatever you say, miss. It's nothing to me."
That's right. It's nothing.
Sonie couldn't bring herself to return to her old neighbourhood. There were actually bushes and trees in this neighbourhood. She found a bush and slept under it, burying her money a half-metre below the surface.
Her two days were up. She returned to the Nag's Head. She was again taken up to the room at the top of the inn.
They took her by car out of the city. They went to a big white building in another city several hours away, a much nicer city.
Chapter Five
Sonie was in pain. They gave her a little hand control that she could squeeze to ease the pain. She had squeezed it until the pain eased, and she drifted off into an uneasy, drugged state.
They had done some kind things. There had been hot water and hot baths. There had been new clean clothes. They even gave her a stuffed animal to sleep with. Lots of delicious meals. A new dessert they called ice cream that she dearly loved. She could eat nothing but it if she wanted. Though, it hurt her teeth terribly.
But, they had done things to hurt her. They warned her some of these things would hurt, and she would have to brave. She tried. Her eyes hurt. Her face hurt. Her mouth hurt. She couldn't move her arm at all, and it hurt. When it was time for her to eat, they gave her a tube, with tasty thick fluid for her to eat. It had lots of protein and vitamins they told her. It was probably all she would be able to eat for a few days.
She was blind. She would stay that way for a few days, they explained. That was the scariest thing of all, more than the pain. Being trapped in darkness. They gave her headphones with soothing music to try and ease her fear. She wore the headphones almost all day.
They took the bandages off her eyes. They still hurt, but she could see. They examined her eyes, and said the procedure had worked. She kept her eyes closed most of the time, and they kept the lights dimmed to ease the pain.
She saw why she couldn't move her arm. It was in a cast. From her hand to above her elbow. All she could do was wiggle her fingers.
She noticed they had taken all of the mirrors out of her room.
Eventually, the pain in her face, mouth and arm, and she got by with a mild pain-killer taken before she went to bed. She could eat real food again.
Mendlesohn and Restaurant Man eventually came to visit her. She hadn't seen either one of them for days.
"Beautiful," Mendlesohn said.
"Perfect," Restaurant Man said.
"Would you like to see?" He handed Sonie a mirror.
She looked different. The ugly scar on her cheek was gone, but that wasn't all they had done. Her cheekbones were higher. Her nose straighter. Her eyes were now blue.
"I see differently," she said.
"That's good, Sonie. You are bright. Your vision wasn't that good before, about 20-80. We've made it 20-10. Perfect."
She poked at her new face. Her new, beautiful face.
"The swelling will go away. You needn't worry about that," Mendlesohn said. "Smile, Sonie."
She smiled. She had new teeth.
"Those are synthetic. Most of your teeth weren't worth saving. So we removed them all. You never have to worry about toothaches again.
"And your arm. The bone had died, Sonie. It didn't heal right and the blood had stopped flowing to it, so we had to remove 10 centimetres of ruined bone and replace it with synthetic bone. Your arm eventually would have died. It would have become infected and gangrenous and you might have died, too. It will much stronger than it's been in years, but it has to be kept immobile for a month. That's why you have the cast."
"Have you found my brother, yet?"
"No, Sonie, I told you it was a long shot. If we ever do it, it's going to take time."
"Why did you change how I look?"
"All in good time, Sonie."
xxxxxxxxx
They were right. Her teeth and arm didn't hurt at all anymore. She could bite down on any food as hard as she pleased. Sometimes her arm itched. They gave her a long, skinny little tool that she could reach inside her cast and scratch it. When they removed the cast, her arm was quite skinny, and weak, but it didn't hurt unless she tried to use it. There was a scar on her arm, about 15 centimetres long, but Sonie didn't care. She could keep it covered up. Nurses gave her weights and told her to do exercises for 30 minutes every day to rebuild the strength in her arm. They told her to go slow at first. The exercises made her arm hurt a little, but the pain had been nothing like before. Her arm grew stronger.
After another couple of weeks in which she got stronger and felt better than she ever had before, a pair of doctors came in her room and gave her a shot. Medicine, they told her. Sonie didn't protest. She had been given a lot of shots over the past few weeks and it had all worked out. It was all part of making her better.
Within moments, Sonie felt groggy.
She spent an eternity in a gray fog. Occasionally, she drifted out of the fog, finding herself in a new room, with an IV hooked up to her arm. She tried to remove the IV, but she was too weak. She had no control over her hand. A woman came into her room, and gently pulled her hand away from the IV tube, and she adjusted the IV.
"My brother..." Sonie croaked before drifting off again.
She was aware another time of movement. She was on a gurney, straps around her waist and legs. They had wrapped a head covering around her, though she could still see a bit. She tried to reach up for the IV, but couldn't move her hands.
"Sssssh," the woman told her. She adjusted the IV
Sonie fell asleep again.
She awoke in yet another new room. This one was not like the others. They had told her the first place she was in was called a hospital, where they took sick people. And Sonie was very sick from malnutrition and infected teeth, they explained. She understood why they fixed her teeth and arm, but wasn't so sure why they changed her face and eyes. They said that while they were at it, they were just making her prettier.
This was more of a room in a house. She had a number of stuffed animals now.
This room also had windows. The other place hadn't had any windows, which she found quite terrifying at first.
This was a much different place than Sorresatt. Sorresatt was hot and dry. This place was more green. There were trees. There were mountains off in the distance. When she awoke, there were big, puffy clouds overhead, threatening rain (It did, in fact, rain later that day.) In Sorresatt, it hardly ever rained; perhaps only a few days every year.
It took her a full day to feel fully awake again. Her head was achy and she was prone to dizzy spells if she tried to move too fast. They gave her headphones with music.
Maybe this is where Jamie had come, she wondered.
Mendlesohn and Restaurant Man came again.
"How are you feeling, Sonie?"
"All right, I s'ppose. Where is this?"
"It isn't Sorresatt, that's what you wanted," Restaurant Man said.
"But, where is it?"
Mendlesohn sat down. "It's Sanctuary."
Sonie felt herself go cold. "For real?"
Mendlesohn smiled. "For real, Sonie."
Sonie felt dizzy again. She sat down.
"You've dreamed of coming to Sanctuary," Restaurant Man said. "All those nights sleeping alone on the streets, you dreamt you could come here, didn't you."
Sonie couldn't help herself. She burst into tears. "Ay," she said.
"Your dreams are coming true," Mendlesohn said. "You're here, you're really here."
"Why? What did I do to deserve coming here? I didn't do anything."
"You survived," Restaurant Man said. "That's enough."
"Is Jamie here, too?"
"I'm sorry," Mendlesohn said. "He's back on Corona. Somewhere. We're looking, Sonie. In fact, Sonie, I have something to tell you about that."
"What?"
"We did find out about your mother. She was living in a city called Janggen. Have you heard of it?"
Sonie shook her head.
"It's a big city, bigger than Sorresatt even. It's a few hundred kilometers away. I'm sorry, Sonie, but there's something you should know. Your mother is dead."
"Dead? How do you know?"
"You said her name was Jailyn Reneau."
"Ay."
"She was working at a brothel in Janggen. That's how we found her. If she had just been in a camp, we could've never tracked her down, but brothels actually keep some records to stay on top of their revenues. We checked the brothels in the cities near Sorresatt and found her name in a work log. They told us she died one night in the brothel from Death."
"So you kin find my brother?"
"We don't know, Sonie. We were shocked we even found your mother. We don't know what happened to her boyfriend. He disappeared, along with Jamie. We're checking the children's camps on Janggen, but there's a lot of them, and they don't keep records. Her boyfriend might have taken him along, too. You never know."
"But it sounds like you're close."
"Sonie, I'm sorry, we just can't promise anything. Janggen is big, like we told you. If we had a picture of him or something, it might help. We at least had your mother's name."
"Do you want a moment alone?" Restaurant Man said.
Sonie shook her head. "I didn't care about her. She left me."
There was a chance he was still alive. Almost enough to dare hope. She changed the subject. "Is St. Martin really here?" She said.
"No, not really, Sonie, those are stories. He was never on Sanctuary. You could say his spirit lives here. There's shrines to him here. There's a big one here in this city, if you would like to go there."
"I would."
They gave her a clean dress. They said it was the girl's style of Trafalgar, so she would fit right in. It was a jumper denim dress. She also had a clean white shirt, and a new pair of soft leather boots. Because it was late winter in Trafalgar and it was still fairly cold out. Sonie wasn't used to cold during the day. As soon as the sun rose in Sorresatt, the city baked. Sometimes it could be quite cold at night, but day was a furnace year-round.
She had never had such nice clothes before. She admired herself in the mirror.
They drove her to the shrine. This city wasn't like Sorresatt at all. It was not as dirty or crowded. The buildings were not nearly as big, or old. There were lots of tents, and buildings still being built. In Sorresatt, buildings were merely being torn down, for scrap, to make more room for squatters. There weren't nearly as many cars, either, she noticed.
They arrived at the shrine. There was a giant statue of St. Martin outside, surrounded by flowers. He was holding a child in his arms, looking off into the distance. There were hundreds of people milling about. Sonie had to wait in line for nearly an hour before she could get inside.
Inside the shrine, there was a more sedate shrine. A small flame burned. People kneeled before the flame, for a few moments, then they got up and left for the next people in line. Sonie noticed many of them were crying.
When it came her turn, too, Sonie didn't cry. She wasn't sure why, for she felt utterly overwhelmed by the place.
She had forgotten how to cry. She had forgotten how to feel. It was the only way she survived.
She did feel one thing. She was home.
She fell to her knees. Because she had finally found a home. A real home.
A few days later, they came to take her where she would live. They told her it was a children's home. They could tell Sonie was immediately alarmed, but they said this children's home was much different than the one in Sorresatt. Children were taken care of under the rules of St. Martin on Sanctuary, they explained. They were not slaves. Anyone who raped them was sent to prison or worse.
There, they would teach her how to read and write. They would teach her math.
They told her she would have to lie.
She couldn't tell anyone about Mendlesohn or the Restaurant Man. She couldn't tell anyone about the Nag's Head. She couldn't tell anyone about the hospital on Corona. She could only tell people she was from Corona. They would be able to tell that from her accent, so there was no point in trying to keep it a secret. She could even tell them she was from Sorresatt if she wanted. Everything else was to be kept secret. She had to tell a lie that she had come aboard a refugee transport; one of the ones that smuggled the wretched out of the slums of Corona from time to time.
They had a reason for their secret. They said some people might want to hurt her if they knew her whole story. They said if she told the secret, they would be forced to go into hiding; and that meant they would have to stop looking for Jamie.
If anyone asked about the scar on her arm or her pretty new teeth, she was to lie again; to tell them they had done these surgeries on the ship. On the ship, not at a hospital on Sanctuary. She was to tell them she didn't know the name of the ship.
Sonie kept their secrets. She didn't want them to stop looking for Jamie.
Plus, she thought it was fun to have a secret.
She never fully trusted the men. Sonie had lived on the streets long enough to know when people weren't telling her the whole story, but truth be told, the men had stayed true to their word so far. They hadn't hurt her, except for the operations, but they gave her pain-killers for that, and it had been worth it. She could eat whatever she wanted now. Her teeth were perfect. She could see better. And the scar on her cheek was gone. Her arm was better now. It would always have a scar, but Sonie almost saw it as a badge of honour.
Maybe they just felt sorry for her and wanted to help her, she thought.
They didn't take her straight to the children's home. They dressed her in old, ragged clothes, not as bad as the ones she had had on Sorresatt, but torn and dirty. They took her to the skyport of Trafalgar. There would be a group of children there. They had just gotten off a refugee transport that made it out of Corona. The men took her through the back of the building, through rooms that held crates and boxes. They stopped at a door.
"Go down this hall," Restaurant man said. "There is a restroom to your right. Go into a stall and stay there for five minutes. You can go if you have to, it doesn't matter. After five minutes, turn to your left. There is another hallway that leads into a main room. Off to the side of this main room is a room full of children like you. They're waiting for a bus. You join the children and you get on the bus with them. Remember what we told you."
"I'm from Sorresatt. I never went to the hospital. I had surgery on the ship."
"Good, Sonie."
"Then what do I do?"
"You don't have to do anything, Sonie. Just fit in as best you can. When we need you, or when we find Jamie, we'll let you know."
She did as they said. She walked into the children room. No one took notice of her. She looked much like the rest of them.
They took her name down. Sonie gave them her real name. They hadn't told her to lie about that. They gave her a name tag that she was told to wear around her neck.
The children entered a small room, one by one. They took her temperature, looked in her mouth. A woman doctor examined her vagina. Afterward, they took a blood sample. She had become used to the needles at the other hospital. She noticed that not all the children had to give a blood sample. Just a few. The doctors asked about her arm and her teeth and Sonie told him her arm had been broken on Corona, that her teeth had been rotten. The surgeries had been done on the ship. A man wrote this down, then asked no more about it. He didn't act like it was important..
This children's home was much different from the one in Sorresatt. Again, the men had been honest with her. There was a dormitory with nothing but other girls; the boys stayed in a building at the other end of campus. They got to see the boys at play time in the afternoon, at services on Sunday (Sonie never actually attended these services.) and in certain shop classes.
They had her wear the name tag for a couple of days until they memorized her name. Sonie threw it away after one day and lied that she had lost it. She didn't like the name tag. The teachers had trouble remembering her name for about a week, but then memorized it. There were an awful lot of children in the school whose names they had to remember.
The food was much better than at the Sorresatt school, though not as good as the meals Mr. Mendlesohn and Mr. Restaurant Man gave her. They gave her a lot of food, but the meals lacked variety. They were fed from great vats of oatmeal in the morning. They were fed a huge slab of bread and cheese for lunch. Every child was given an apple or a pear. Dinner was a bowl of soup, potato or vegetable or onion, or sometimes a steaming plate of noodles, with another big slab of bread. Once a week, they got roast chicken, or if it were a special holiday, even better, roast turkey. It was the only meat they got. They never had dessert. Sonie didn't complain. She didn't mind the lack of meat or dessert. She was always full
They gave her silverware, spoons and forks, but she saw her first knife during roast chicken night. It was a dull and useless knife, but perhaps Sonie could fix it. She hid the knife in her skirts.
Days later, she was walking by the metal shop and noticed there was no one there. It was locked up at night, but the shop teacher had left for some reason. She sneaked in and sharpened the knife to a real weapon, something she could actually rely on.
She kept the shiv under her pillow at night, in case anyone came for her.
Sometimes, she cried out at night, dreaming that she was back on Sorresatt. Sometimes, she kicked at the teachers when they ran into the sleeping room to calm her down, afraid they were going to take her back there.
They never did. All they did was hug her and told her no one would ever hurt her again. No one was allowed to hurt children on Sanctuary.
They told her it was normal for her to cry at night and feel afraid for no reason. That many children had gone through what she had gone through. That she was not alone.
Still, Sonie did not cry from the dreams. She had forgotten how to cry.
Sometimes, despite their kind words, she felt terribly alone. None of the other girls here were from Sorresatt, though a couple of others were from Corona. But, no one talked of Corona. It was almost a bad word here. Most of the girls had come from Corona systems, but not Corona itself. It was difficult to escape Corona. How had she managed, they wondered. At that point, Sonie always tugged at her skirts and muttered, "I don't like to talk about it."
Some of them had had it bad. Some of them had been raped like her. But, Sonie eventually realized none of them had had it as bad as her. None of them understood.
There were days she had trouble raising herself out of bed when it hit her just how terrible Corona had been. She cowered under her blankets and pillows because she missed Jamie and she was afraid the mean people on Corona would hurt him the same way they had hurt her for so many years. As much as she feared for Jamie, she was also afraid that Mr. Mendlesohn and Restaurant Man might take her back to Sorresatt, if she accidentally leaked their secrets. On those days, a teacher always came to rouse her out of bed and escort her to the showers.
They would ask if something was bothering her. And Sonie would shake her head.
They gave her new pairs of denim jumpers and shirts and soft leather lace-up boots. All the other girls were dressed similar to her. Part of the uniform was a blue scarf. It was explained to her that other camps had green scarfs and red scarfs. She was always supposed to wear the scarf if she was off campus, so if she got lost or hurt, people would know where to return her.
Off-campus, Sonie thought. They actually let you leave?
They gave Sonie a job. They asked what skills she had and Sonie shrugged. She really had none other than making the little wire sculptures and she didn't think that was even worth mentioning. So, she was put to work for four hours a day doing laundry, cleaning and washing dishes. Sonie didn't mind. The work was easy compared to what she was used to.
And they paid her. They actually gave her money. It was different from the money in Sorresatt. These were called credits. They paid her one credit for each hour worked, 20 credits a week in all. They had a little store at the children's camp, where she could buy little candies, juice, dolls and books if she wanted, though they urged her to save her credits and not just waste it on candy. There were copies of a picture book about St. Martin in the store. For children younger than Sonie. She begged off the candies. She had gone her entire life without sweets and could go another few weeks. As soon as she had enough credits, she bought the book.
Another four hours a day was spent in a classroom, a place Sonie had never been before. She was in the beginner's reading class, mostly with younger children, but a few girls her age or older. It was a struggle at first to learn the letters, but slowly, she began recognizing the patterns and understood how they made words, and how the words made sentences.
She looked at the picture book every night before bed. Started figuring out some of the words. Read that St. Martin died at a place called Rembrandt. After saving many, many people from a bad place. A place even worse than Sorresatt.
They had prayer service once a week at the school. Attendance wasn't mandatory. Sonie was one of the few children who didn't go.
She didn't belong there, she felt. Not after all the terrible things she had done in Sorresatt.
She got a choice of other classes to take. She could take woodworking, or metal shop, or vehicle repair. These were classes to teach the children job skills.
Sonie chose art. Even though it wasn't a job skill, they let her just take art for the time being until she decided what she wanted to become skilled in. They didn't have wire for her to make sculptures out of. They had clay and glass, but they didn't hold her interest.
Instead, she picked up a paintbrush. It had nothing to do with wire or sculpture, but she took to painting. Her teachers asked if she had had prior instructions, and seemed surprised that she hadn't.
It was her new hobby. She didn't sell any paintings, not yet, at least. She wasn't that good.
But, the teachers were astonished. Especially at what she painted.
She painted Sorresatt. She painted dead children in gutters, their bones being picked at by dogs. She painted people huddled under scraps of trash, freezing to death from the bitter night winds of Corona. She printed a woman carrying a dead baby, desperately trying to get it to nurse.
At first, the teachers tried to encourage her to paint nicer things, pictures of Trafalgar and Sanctuary and animals. The teachers had the counselors watch her paint. They asked her why she painted such terrible things about Sorresatt.
Sonie didn't know how to articulate how she felt about the paintings. "Because it makes me feel better," she said, finally, because she suspected this was the answer the counselors wanted to hear.
In truth, she painted Sorresatt because she wanted people to know. People on Sanctuary needed to know, she thought.
She thought at first she was in trouble for the things she painted about, but after the counselors met with her, she was encouraged to paint whatever she wanted.
They called it therapy.
Sonie didn't know what that meant. All she knew wasn't in trouble. In fact, they started giving her the best art teachers in the school, even an artist from outside the school was invited to view her paintings and instruct her. He had looked at them silently, his jaw twitching.
Her paintings got better. More realistic. The pain in their images more palpable.
Occasionally, they asked if she would she oblige them by painting something nice, something connected to the school, just so they could hang it up in the hallways. They gave her enough freedom with her painting most of the time, it did not seem an unreasonable request to Sonie, so she agreed.
Another time, after she had been painting for a while, they gave her a very large job. It took her nearly a month. They expected her to take three or four days, but they didn't pressure her or give her any trouble when it took longer than expected. The nursery for the youngest children badly needed painting. The paint in the room was old and gray and dingy. They gave the job to her. They explained they wanted something cheerful for the little ones, not frightening. They knew this wasn't what she did best, but it was an important job, and she was the best artist at the school.
Sonie gave it some thought. Her nice paintings weren't really heartfelt, but she understood that the little ones would never understand Sorresatt, and perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps there were things they didn't need to know, not at least until they were older. She painted things she had seen in and around Trafalgar. One wall became a field on the edge of town where a farmer kept horses and sheep. The children had visited there to help the farmer with his animals, and they got to pet them and feed them by hand. On another wall she painted a woodland, with lots of butterflies and little spotted beetles on the flowers, and wild animals poking their noses through the trees. There were antelope that lived right outside of the city that she had seen a couple of times. And big bull-like animals with huge horns that lived in the woods. She had learned Sanctuary had wolves and something like sandcats, but she didn't paint any of these because she thought they might have scared the babies. Another wall became a part of the city she liked. A marketplace with little stands of fruit lined along a street and mothers and children filling their cloth shopping bags. Another wall became the school, with children playing games in the grass and dirt.
She got paint all over her uniform, even though she wore a protective apron. They dressed her in boys' overalls and old boots and let her get as dirty as she needed to. They braided her hair into pigtails and tucked it under a kerchief before she began each painting session.
The ceiling went excrutiatingly slow. For, now she got fancy. She asked if some of the school's workmen could build her a scaffolding for the ceiling. Instead, they brought in a machine they called a gurney that they used for washing some of the upper floor windows. It had railings at the top, but they removed those. The machine sat on wheels so it could be moved all around the room. She could lie down on the machine and they lift her up until her nose was a few inches below the ceiling. She ended up every day her boys' work clothes covered head to toe in paint. They gave her goggles to keep the paint out of her eyes. After finishing a section, she lower it a bit, climb down a ladder, then move it to the next section of the ceiling.
Her arms and shoulders got tired painting this way. She ended up tucking pillows under her shoulder to ease the knotting muscles. She would be very tired at the end of the day. A couple of times, she was too tired to climb down the ladder and she fell asleep at the top of the gurney. Then, a teacher would wake her by tugging on her boot hanging over the side of the gurney.
Maybe they had given her too big of a job, they wondered. Maybe this was making her too tired. Perhaps she needed people to help her. Sonie insisted she was fine. She just wanted to do it right. She was a big girl. She had had it far, far worse than this in her other life on Sorresatt. And she had been much, much more tired. This was nothing.
They told her a famous painter painted a chapel on Earth this way, thousands of years ago. The painting had lasted for centuries. She asked if she could have a book about this painter, and they searched for one. They would have to go to the city's main library to see if they could find one.
She got fancy with the ceiling. She could've just painted it blue, but instead she painted a storm passing through, because storms were almost unheard of in Sorresatt and this is one of the things she came to love about Trafalgar. The sun was out and the storm was headed for the big range of snow-covered mountains far to the west of Trafalgar, creating a double rainbow along an entire wall.
It was cute for Sonie, but she felt it wasn't too cute or trite. There were no teddy bears or unicorns or angels or anything stupid. She hated that.
She added to this a layer of fancy paint that they didn't use very often. She had found the fancy paint in storage. To make it work, she had to go out and lie in the courtyard in the darkest pitch of night, when all of the city's lights had been turned off. They gave her permission to do this, though they wondered what she was up to. She studied the stars, the Milky Way, and the three moons that circled Sanctuary. There was a beautiful giant planet far away from Sanctuary, but close enough that it was the brightest thing in the night sky other than the moons. It was close enough that Sonie could see the giant rings around with her new "20-10" vision. It took her a few nights to do this, because the weather didn't always cooperate, and she wanted to see all three moons full. She noted they were never full at the same time. She wanted her painting to be accurate. She took notes in her crude writing and made a detailed map of the sky. She knew the big red moon was called Antioch, but she didn't know how to spell it. She know how to make an "A" and labeled it with an "A." She did the same for the other two moons, a smaller white body named Argonos and a tiny blueish-white moon called Thellesia. The big ringed planet was called Zanzibar.
She had to cover up the doors and windows with black cloth to make the room dark. Carrying a flashlight, she climbed to the top of her gurney, then after lying down, she turned it off.
She worked in the pitch black. For days. It was the only way she could make this work.
She painted the stars, the Milky Way, the three moons, the white and blue-white moons in different phases and Antioch in its full-phase glory. She cheated a bit on Zanzibar, making it a little too big and bright. But everything seemed bigger and brighter to the little ones, so she thought this was all right. She even painted a small cloud passing in front of Antioch, and gave the fringes of the cloud a pinkish glow.
After every day, they helped her peel off the paint-soaked overalls and washed them for her. The teachers fussed over her that she was working too hard. Xxx All the paint wasn't coming anymore. It was soaked through the denim too much. They were Sonie's overalls now.
The Milky Way was the most work. She painted it from the floor, up one wall, across the ceiling, down another wall to the opposite floor. That alone had taken her three days. She turned on the light. You couldn't see the stars or planets at all. It was perfect.
She showed this to the school administrators. They had seen some of the work in progress, but they had come to understand that Sonie really didn't like people watching her paint, so for the most part they left her alone. This was the first time they had seen the finished product. They seemed happy. They had expected Sonie to paint some fields and a few trees and the sky. They hadn't expected this.
Sonie turned off the light. They gasped.
The called it amazing.
The room glowed with the special paint that showed up in the dark. Now the toddler's nursery would never be dark. It would never be scary. The stars and moons and especially the big, comforting Milky Way would keep the little ones company at night. She had thought about painting little faces on the moon, but decided against it. It might scare some of the younger babes. And it wouldn't be accurate.
When they turned the light back on, Sonie saw a couple of the teachers had been crying.
They suggested she do something similar in the regular children's sleeping rooms, after she rested a bit and recovered. Sonie begged off. It had been exhausting. She didn't think she could take on another big project like that. At least not right away.
Still, the idea intrigued her. Now, she kind of wanted her own Milky Way. Perhaps she could get some of the girls to help her.
They never hung up her Sorresatt paintings. Sonie didn't necessarily want them hung up, so she didn't care. They didn't throw them away, either. They were carefully wrapped in cloth and put in storage.
The only thing Sonie did not like about the school was just like the children's camp in Sorresatt, there were guards at the school, except they didn't carry clubs. They claimed she could leave any time she liked, but why were the guards there? Sonie asked.
To keep bad people out, it was explained. They were there just to protect the children. Sonie didn't believe them.
She also didn't like all the doors in the school. She always felt a chill of nervousness whenever they closed the doors of the classes. She insisted on sleeping with a door cracked open. Insisted on painting with the door open, even though she really didn't like being bothered while painting.
It's just she hated the closed doors more.
The teachers had noticed her sideway glances at the doors, and heard about her cracking the doors open at night. The counselors called her into their office and asked her about this. She shrugged and explained the closed doors frightened her. The doors were always locked back at the children's home in Sorresatt, she explained. They demonstrated to her that the doors in the school had no locks. The only doors with locks were for some of the storage rooms. Sonie didn't care. She still hated the doors.
Shortly after Sonie had asked about the guards, the teachers gave her an important duty. This was even more important than painting the nursery, they told her. There were parts - they were called valves -- to fix the school's boiler that had just arrived in Trafalgar from halfway on the other side of Sanctuary. The boilers were old and obsolete, so these valves were very rare and expensive, and the managers of the school had pulled a lot of strings to get them delivered. It couldn't even be done in Trafalgar. It had to be done in a special workshop hundreds of kilometers away. It had taken them weeks to arrive in the city.
The school had completely lost its hot water for that time, and had taken to heating water on big stoves, then pouring into tubs for bath time. It was very cumbersome and labour-intensive, and all the children had to take baths in half-full tubs as a result. Sonie hadn't really seen it as an imposition, but the people who ran the school seemed to think it was a big deal.
Sonie was a big girl now and had shown much responsibility, they told her. Because she was with younger girls in the reading classes, she had been put in charge of the younger girls during play time because she was too big to play with them. If anyone scraped a knee or got a bloody nose, it was up to Sonie to take them to the nurse. Sonie thought some of them were crybabies, but the nurses explained that the children in Trafalgar weren't as strong as she was. She didn't complain about the duty.
So, now they were giving her a bigger job. The teachers couldn't get out to the shop where the valves had arrived. They were shorthanded because a virus was going through the school and several of the teachers were sick with it. So, they had to have Sonie would have to make the journey. It was four kilometers away. She was to walk straight there and straight back. If she got lost she could ask anyone for help, but she wasn't to dawdle. The valves were important.
"You mean, by myself?"
"You're a big girl, Sonie. The streets here are much, much safer than Sorresatt. There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll give you a map. If you get lost, make sure to ask someone for help."
"It's not that I'm afraid ..." They were just going to let her leave?
She had always assumed she had to stay here. That there was no choice. Like the children's camp in Sorresatt.
Was this some kind of trick? Would they punish her if she actually tried to leave?
Sonie stood at the gate with the teacher, and the guard opened it for her, smiling. They gave her a coat to wear. A blue felt hat to keep her head warm. The teacher wrapped her blue scarf around her neck and reminded her to keep it wrapped because it was quite nippy out, and that someone would always help her if she was wearing it. It had snowed a bit that night, but the streets were clear now. The first time Sonie saw snow, it had frightened her greatly. The younger children were quite ecstatic over the snow and the teachers let them go out and play in it for a while, even though it was late and they should have been in bed. The older children had gone out and played in it, as well, making little slushy snow fort and fighting out snowball battles. Sonie had cowered on her bunk, afraid of the alien little white flakes wafting downward. It had never snowed on Sorresatt, and she didn't know what to think of it. It looked unhealthy. One of the teachers handed her a snowball and showed her it was nothing to be afraid of. She held her hand and had Sonie touch it with her fingertips. It was cold. And white. Beautiful. Not so terrifying.
The teacher also gave her a pair of blue mittens. It was a long walk, the teacher explained. Her hands would get cold without the mittens. Sonie stared at them. She had never had mittens before.
Sonie hesitated, looking at both the unarmed guard and the teacher. She was strong and healthy now, and she was certain if she bolted, she could probably outrun them both. She had money with her, she could live on her own ... for a while.
Sonie stepped out of the gate, looked back at the two of them.
"Go on, Sonie. This is important."
Sonie slowly walked down the street, stopping and turning back a couple of times. The teacher had gone back inside. The guard had gone back inside his little hut by the gate. She couldn't see either one of them.
They might be hiding. There might be others hiding out on the street somewhere.
She kept walking. She could toss the scarf any time and there wasn't anything they could do about it. No one would know what school she was from and they couldn't take her back. She realized then that she would likewise probably have to get rid of the blue hat and the blue mittens, too, and she really didn't want to get rid of the mittens. It was too cold for that.
So, she kept walking. They had given her a little map with directions, written in big letters that she could understand. She had to make two right turns, then a left, to get to the shipping centre. There were lots of people walking around in the streets of Trafalgar. There weren't nearly as many cars as Corona. Some people actually rode horses here. None of the people were bothering her, though Sonie wished she had had her old shiv with her, out here on the streets.
In fact, while waiting at an intersection for horses to pass by, a man surprised her when he put something in her hand.
"St. Martin bless you," he said.
She looked at it. It was a huge hunk of chocolate. She bit into it. It was dark chocolate, bitter and unsweetened and delicious. It took her an entire block to finish it. At another intersection, a woman handed her something. "Bless you," she said. "St. Martin loves you." Sonie hoped it was another piece of dark chocolate, but instead it was a tiny wooden statue of St. Martin. Sonie put it in the pocket of her coat.
It left her confused. Why were people giving her things?
The instructions were easy, and she made it to the shipping centre in about an hour. It was a big building, with lots of trucks going in and out through a gate, and lots of people working there. She went through a warehouse door by mistake and men told her children weren't supposed to be wandering through the back. She handed them the note from the school, and they took her to a man who appeared to be in charge. The man gave her a heavy box with metal parts rattling around inside. She was told not to drop it because the valves were fragile. The man gave her a red piece of candy before she left. It was hot. She had never imagined candy could somehow be hot. It was delicious.
The men offered to help her take the heavy package back, but Sonie declined. She was not a crybaby like the little ones.
The teachers had acted very grave about these valves, so she walked straight back. It began snowing. She had seen snow often enough now that it no longer frightened her. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't a coward. It was just something cold and wet that fell out of the sky on Sanctuary.
There were myriad of interesting shops and buildings all along the way she badly wanted to explore. A store with a whole bunch of books about St. Martin caught her eye the most. She would have to ask teachers if she could go back there. A shop with delicious-smelling pork barbecuing out front. A noodle shop. A store with little handmade wooden toys. She liked that place, too. She slowed down a bit at every one, then continued walking back to the school. She finally did stop and buy a hot cocoa at a cocoa shop because it was so cold out. She did not consider this dawdling. She was starting to get cold. It was important to warm up. Still, she slurped the hot cocoa as quickly as she dared without burning her tongue.
Outside the cocoa shop, a man stopped her. He bent down before her. At first, it scared her. But, then all he did was re-tie one of the laces of her boots that had come loose. "St. Martin loves the orphans," he said.
Sonie frowned. She could have tied it, if she had noticed. Her arms were occupied, but she wasn't helpless. Then, the realization hit her. Like thunder.
It was the scarf. The teacher had told if she wore the scarf, people would help her.
The scarf told people that she was an orphan.
She had read it in her book. St. Martin had said orphans were blessed. He had said it was considered sacred to help the orphans.
On Sanctuary, the orphans were not beaten or raped or exploited.
They were worshipped.
Sonie had to sit for a moment on a bench along the street, to let the weight of it soak in. The box hadn't seemed all that heavy at first, but suddenly her arms were tired. She needed to rest, just for a moment. It was a long walk, after all.
All the children at the school were considered sacred on Sanctuary.
She was sacred.
All thoughts of shivs and bolting to the streets were completely gone now. She felt ashamed of her shiv under the pillow, vowed she would throw it away. She didn't need it; hadn't even given it a moment's thought in weeks until today.
All she wanted to do was deliver the valves back to the school. She rushed back, shifting the box often from her left to her right arms as they became tired from her burden.
The snow fell more heavily. It began to stick. The temperature dropped. By this time, Sonie was quite grateful she hadn't thrown the scarf away. Her nose was almost completely numb. Her feet were starting to get cold.
The guard opened the gate for her, smiling.
She insisted on personally carrying the box down to the boiler room. It took them a couple of hours to get the boilers working again. She watched them installing the new valves for a bit, but she was escorted out of the room when they tried to ignite the boilers because the boiler room was a dangerous place. Indeed, the boilers were fearsome iron monstrosities of machinery. Many of the children were utterly terrified of the metal beasts, but Sonie liked them. She felt like squealing with delight when they rumbled to life. They were powerful. They sounded like power incarnate.
They had full hot baths that night.
She had come back. She apologized for stopping for cocoa, but they said that was all right. They should have known she would get cold. They paid her for the cocoa. It had been an important thing she had done for them. What a brave thing she did, they told her, to have walked so far alone, when she didn't know the way, when it was so cold and she was not used to cold. The teachers apologized for making her walk so far in the snow. They hadn't known it was going to start snowing so hard, they told her. They told her that her cheeks and nose had been beet red by the time she returned. Her hands were cold as ice.
Sonie had known full well it hadn't been brave at all. There had been nothing to be afraid of, once she realized someone from the school wasn't going to pounce on her from behind. Still, she played along. If they wanted to make a hero out of her for not wandering into all the noodle and toy shops along the way, so be it.
They could actually hear the massive boilers rumbling back to life throughout the building. The teachers cheered when they heard the boilers roar. There would be hot water in minutes. The teachers had the little ones thank Sonie for their hot baths, which embarrassed her greatly. They were really making too much of the whole thing. Sonie was too old for baths, but she still had to wait her turn for a shower because the hot water was limited, letting the younger children go first, though she felt desperately cold still. When it was finally her turn, they let her take a bath, and let her soak longer than her allotted 15 minutes.
Afterward, she went to the man who ran the school, crying. One of her teachers was in the office, as well. She handed him the shiv and told him she was ashamed of it. She had made it because she was afraid and on Sorresatt, you had to have a shiv for protection. She told them she wouldn't blame them if they threw her out or beat her. She knew weapons were probably forbidden here. In fact, the subject of weapons had never come up, but she assumed they must be prohibited.
They did not throw her out. They hugged her and told her she had done nothing wrong. And that it was good of her to turn the knife in before one of the younger children found it and hurt themselves. She had been badly hurt in Sorresatt and they understood. That was the way things were on Corona. There would be no punishment.
She promised them she would be good from now on. They told her she was already good.
Sonie cried. For the first time in years. She cried so hard she gave herself hiccoughs.
That week, she went to prayer service. She didn't walk right in. It was snowing heavily that day, but the little ones weren't playing because they had all gone to service. There would be plenty of time for play later. Sonie had come to love the snow, how exotic and different it felt and looked. Every time it snowed, it felt like an adventure.
Only a few of the children didn't go to services. Sonie sat on her bed and listened to the chapel bells, then put on her boots and coat. She went outside and stood in the snow.
She stood before the doors of the chapel. They were singing songs to St. Martin. Kind St. Martin who helped so many children.
One of the teachers came out. She had seen her standing in the snow.
"Do you want to come inside?" She said.
"I d-don't belong here," Sonie said.
"Of course you do," the teacher said. "You most of all, Sonie."
The teacher took her by the hand, and Sonie allowed her to lead her inside. Her entire life, she had believed she was bad; that bad things happened to her because she was wicked, and stole and carried a shiv, and dreamt often of using it against her tormenters, and danced nasty dances for the evil man. She had let men sleep with her. Some of them willingly. Some not. It didn't matter. It had all been equally wicked.
Now, she understood, finally. After a lifetime packed into 14 long years. She was not wicked. She was not bad because she did not mourn her mother's death. Mr. Mendlesohn had said it. Corona was wicked. Sorresatt was wicked. What they had done to her was wrong. What they had turned her into was wrong.
They put her in one of the front rows. Sonie didn't know any of the words to the songs. She simply listened. She stood in line patiently to take communion. Received a hug from the pastor for showing up. All during the service, Sonie wondered for the countless time why Mr. Mendlesohn and Restaurant Man had brought her here. What they wanted from her in return. Did they really need someone to do laundry and mop the floors and to pick up boiler parts for them? They seemed to have plenty of people to do that.
Why had they been so nice to her?
They had simply told her she was to stay here because it was safe and nothing bad would happen to her here. When they needed her, they would let her know, she was told.
After a few weeks, that day came.
Their teachers told them Nap Chance was visiting Trafalgar.
Sonie knew Nap Chance was a friend of St. Martin's.

Chapter Six
Nap managed to go three entire days without Death. It was one of his longest dry periods in months. He felt clear-headed enough to realize that he smelled bad; his clothes had become filthy.
He had his people bring him a new wardrobe, soaked in a hot tub, ate a large breakfast. When had he last eaten a real meal? He couldn't remember. His ribs stuck out alarmingly. There were sores around his midsection and especially his buttocks, from sitting too much in his chair he realized. He called Montoya.
"You're looking well today, Nap," Montoya said, entering his chamber.
"I'm feeling well," he said. "Montoya, let's go for a walk."
"A walk, sir?"
"Yeah, I haven't been out to one of the camps in some time."
"Nap, are you up to it..."
"Montoya, my old friend, I'm as strong as an ox. Haven't you figured that out? You said a couple of the camps are having food shortages. Have the food stores been delivered yet."
"We've been making arrangements. It should be another two or three days."
"Can it be tomorrow?" The connotation was crystal clear. It would be today.
"Yes, sir."
The conquering hero, come to the rescue of his people.
Montoya began to leave. "Oh, and Montoya, make sure the camp commander is there."
Arrangements were made with the commander. A parade route was set. Barricades were sent to Trafalgar. As were hundreds of security personnel. The city was notified.
Tens of thousands were expected to attend. The schools would bring their children. In their finest, dressed in their scarves and clean clothes.
Nap would never be St. Martin. One thing Montoya admired about Nap is that he knew this.
But, at least he tried. He particularly liked to see the children brought out, in their best, even in his wretched state. Made him feel alive again, Montoya supposed. Maybe they reminded him of a time he had long ago lost. Montoya didn't know much about Nap's roots. Nap didn't let on much, and Montoya doubted he ever would. There was the War. Almost everyone died. There was little more that needed knowing.
Montoya wondered what Nap planned with the Trafalgar commander. One of Nap's greastest strengths was lack of predictability. He showed mercy when least expected, flashed vengeance over minor offenses. If Montoya were a betting man, he would lay a few thousand credits that the commander's days were numbered.
Pilfering was something Nap didn't tend to look upon kindly.
Trafalgar was about four hours away. Montoya thought Nap was going to take the controls of their flyer; he used to in the old days, but he hadn't flown in a few years now, and even he seemed to realize those days were past. The pilot even took it upon himself to offer the controls to Nap, but Nap declined. Montoya thought he might have felt the flyer was beneath him.
Nap was content to sit in the co-pilot's seat, with Montoya in a bank of seats behind him. He asked a number of questions of the pilot about his boat, how it handled, idle chit-chat, really, but Nap made a point to show that he genuinely had some perfunctory knowledge of the craft. They followed the Raball River, a beautiful pea-green channel serpentining through hill country. It had been chilly and rainy all week, but the weather broke for them. If Montoya hadn't known better, he might have thought Nap had something to do with that. He liked to exude that sort of power, and it was quite within his power to have the orbital satellites control the weather.
The Sun King has arrived.
It was late afternoon by the time they arrived. A huge crowd was waiting for them at the skyport. They could see the masses packed against the barricades for many kilometers to the city capital.
"How big is Trafalgar now, Montoya?"
"About 250,000 people, last census we took last year."
"Holy Christ, where do they all come from?"
"We've got refugees arriving from the Corona systems every week, hundreds of people at a time."
"No wonder they hate us so. Our numbers are swelling, while theirs dwindle. I'd like them to have our problems of getting all these people fed."
Nap was right about that. Corona's population was shrinking, and they knew it. They had completely closed off all flights to Sanctuary and its little band of allies. Anyone caught trying to escape was blown out of space. Helpless refugees, just trying to escape to a better life.
They really were bastards on Corona, Montoya thought. It was a brutal shadow war, but Montaya was a True Believer. It was good vs. evil.
Plenty of the refugees got through, though. With a lot of help from Sanctuary's warhawks.
"It's also people having babies, sir. Even on Death and with the Superbug, they still have babies."
"They took care of that ... in the old days."
"Are you suggesting we go back to that?"
"No, not at all," Nap said. "It was brutal ... and wrong. The kind of thing Martin railed against ... Is Sandy here?"
Brett Sandy. Trafalgar's commander. Little more than a regional warlord. He was appointed to camp commander because there was no one better. Mentally, Montoya started ticking off possible successors.
"He was told to meet us at the skyport."
Montoya genuinely didn't know what Nap planned. He had a good idea. Nap generally didn't look favourably upon pilfering.
Yet, he also showed mercy when least expected. Showed vengeance in all its most brutal and vicious glory over seemingly minor offenses against his realm. That was his secret, Montoya supposed. Lack of predictability.
Sandy presented himself outside their flyer. He had an excessive guard of more than 30 men, shoving their way roughly through the crowd. Montoya marked that. Another mark against him.
Petty tyrant. The worst kind. If not one yet, then one in the making.
No more tyrants. The tyrants are all dead.
A petty tyrant. The worst kind. If not one yet. One in the making.
"Sir, we're honoured you've come to see us. I wish you had given us more time to prepare. To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Sandy carried a little too much paunch. Normally, Montoya wouldn't have cared, but it couldn't have been any more painfully obvious.
Skimming. Food. He envisioned great feasts of veal and game birds and succulents. Expected one was probably waiting for them at the capital.
"There's no need for roughhousing, Sandy," Nap said.
"Sir, we're only trying to keep you safe."
"I appreciate your concern. My men are more than capable of protecting me."
Sandy looked to Montoya for support. Montoya gave him none, let him have a little smirk for an answer.
The route went through the most crowded parts of the city. Their cars were showed with flowers. Montoya did have to give Sandy credit, he had done a good job of getting the word out, and the crowds. Nary a display of protest.
What Nap had done was remarkable. If only he could hold it all together, somehow, with so many in power aligned against him. Montoya couldn't help but have his doubts that this was all an illusion. That in the end, they would crash and burn, as had Earth, as had the colonies. They had all had dreams, too. They had all had their illusions, too. Now, Corona and Sanctuary were the result. Were they really any different? Many Coronians thought they were the true light, the beacon to enlightenment. Many thought they were actually free.
Nap had them stop the car, and got out. Montoya followed him.
"Sir, is this such a good idea?"
"Look at them, Montoya, they love me."
"Yes, most of them, but you never know, sir..."
Nap laughed. "You don't give me credit for being able to take care of myself."
He walked to the crowd.
Xxxxxxx
Sonie couldn't see a thing. She and the rest of the children from the camp tried to get as close as they could, but they were several metres from the barricades. Though Sonie was one of the older girls in her group, she was still smaller than many of the grown-ups packed tight against the roadway.
It was chaos. It was exhilarating.
She didn't think she would get actually see Nap Chance's car. All she knew is that he was the king. He was the most famous person on Sanctuary. They had even heard of him on Corona. The reincarnation of St. Martin..
If she ever got to meet him, that's what she would tell him. Even in Sorresatt, he was famous.
But, there were too many people, packed too tight. Sonie tried to stay with her group. The teachers had put her in charge of some of the younger girls, because she was one of the older and more responsible ones, and the teachers couldn't keep an eye on everyone in a crowd such as this.
Sonie felt a hand clasp around her wrist, she was pulled away.
She let out a protest, then caught herself when she realized it was Restaurant Man who had grabbed her arm. He pulled her roughly through the crowd, bulling past townspeople with the help of a couple of rough-looking men in front of him. She recognized them from the Nag's Head.
For a moment, she was terrified they were taking her away from her school.
But as they got to the front of the crowd, he stopped at the barricade.
"I-I'm supposed to watch the other kids," she said.
"Don't worry, Sonie, we have men watching over them. They'll be fine."
"I might get in trouble."
"We've taken care of it with your teachers, Sonie, they'll understand."
He lifted her by her ribcage so her boots came down comfortably on a crossbar in the center of the barricade. She was just the right height so her elbows came to rest on top of the barrier. She was now every bit as tall as the adults around her.
"You promise someone's looking after the little ones?" She said.
"I promise, Sonie."
"If anything happened to any of them..."
"Sonie, it's good of you to worry about the other children, but this is your big opportunity."
"For what?"
He took her by the shoulders, whispered in her ear from behind.
"Sonie, didn't you want to see Nap Chance?"
"Ay."
"This is your chance. I'm just helping you see him, that's all. You would've never got to the front otherwise. There were too many people. Just stand here, on the barricade. He's just down the road there, coming this way."
Sonie realized a group of other men had followed Restaurant Man, were surrounding her.
Keeping the others away. Keeping the others back.
She saw the crowd reacting a couple of hundred metres away. She couldn't see him, yet.
"Do you know anything about Jamie?" She said.
"We know he's still in Janggen."
"Is he OK, mister?"
"We don't know, Sonie. It's going to be hard to find him there."
"Kin he come here, to my school. They let boys in younger than him."
"Yes, Sonie, when we find him ... if we find him, we'll bring him here to your school ... Here's your chance, Sonie. He's coming this way."
His hands released her shoulders. Sonie turned around. Restaurant Man had disappeared. He was right. He had left a couple of his men with him, keeping people away from Sonie.
She turned back to the parade.
She could see Nap Chance now. Coming her way.
Xxxxxxxx
Nap might very well be having the time of his life, but Montoya knew this could get out of hand in a hurry. The barricades were flimsy; they could topple at any moment. The security was woefully inadequate.
The streets of Trafalgar were in the frenzy. The people loved Nap Chance. Nap Chance loved them.
Not for the first time, Montoya was in awe of Nap Chance.
Three days ago, he had been semi-conscious, sleeping 20 hours a day in dirty clothes, lost in Death. Lost in Her. His creation. His monster.
Nap stopped in his tracks.
Montoya stopped.
Nap was staring at a girl. A teen. Dressed in a crisp school uniform. Standing on the barricade. She was less than two metres away.
Just an ordinary girl.
Montoya stared at her. Felt himself go cold.
"Oh, my God," he gasped.
He hadn't realized he had said it out loud.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Did you see her?" Nap said.
"Who?"
"You know, Montoya."
He swallowed. "It was a girl, sir."
"I know that, Montoya. I didn't imagine it."
"Yes, I saw her."
"What did you think?"
He shrugged. "She was a girl. Young." The connotation was clear.
"Was the colour of her kerchief blue?"
"I don't remember, sir."
Nap smiled. "You know, Montoya, you're a shitty liar."
"It might have been blue, sir."
"Can you find out for me which school is blue, Montoya?"
"Nap, do we have time for this? You have the Sandy matter to deal with."
"Please, Montoya, humour me. Find out which school is blue."

Xxxxxxxxxx

It was called West St. Martin's. The biggest children's camp in Trafalgar.
"Here's something really interesting," Montoya told Nap. "The minister of antiquities and the arts got a letter from one of the leading artists in Trafalgar, saying there's a girl there with extraordinary talent. Paints really disturbing images of Corona."
"That was her, at the parade?"
"It looks like it, yes. He said she's beautiful. The most beautiful kid there. It's hard to believe she grew up in the worst slums of Sorresatt, he said."
"She's from Sorresatt? Jesus. How did she get out?"
"St. Martin's people are everywhere. You know how good they are at smuggling people out. Maybe they saw this kid with talent and decided to help her. I found out more about her from the director of the school. She had it pretty bad on Sorresatt. They say she's got a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Terrified of being locked up. These paintings are her 'therapy' apparently. It turns out she's damn good. They said you're never the same after looking at them."
Nap laughed. "Post-traumatic stress disorder? Don't we all have that?"
"This was really bad, Nap. The whole gamut. Slavery. Rape, Torture."
"Torture?"
"Torture. Broken limbs, she's got a couple of stab wounds. They did everything to her."
"And you argue that we can negotiate with these people, Montoya."
"This isn't the government of Corona doing this, Nap."
"Isn't it?"
"I haven't visited one of the schools in some time. Would you like to make the arrangements."
Montoya hesitated. "Nap, you realize this isn't her."
Nap raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm old, Montoya, not crazy. Of course, I realize it."
"Sorry, Nap. It's just that this is irregular."
"Is regular really so good?"
"We've got a lot of other things to do. There's this Corona thing of yours..."
"They can wait. I'm in no hurry to go to Corona."
Good, you shouldn't be.
"Montoya, I know you've never approved of ... it."
"Liz's ghost?"
"Is that what they call it?"
"For some time now, Nap."
Nap smiled. "That's a good one. I should've thought of that."
"No offense, sir, it takes up a lot of power."
"Aye, I'm sure it does. It's smart, you know."
"I'm aware of that, Nap. It's taking up an incredible amount of processing power."
"I think it's smarter than me."
Xxxxxxx
Fortunately, she didn't get in trouble for leaving behind the younger children. The crowd had been too big, it was explained. There had been too little security. Everyone got separated. Teachers lost track of their charges, too. They were just glad Sonie was all right and that she didn't get hurt by the crowd pressing up against the barricade. A couple of the younger girls had become scared, but after Nap Chance had passed by, adults helped congregate them back into a group. Sonie was one of the last to rejoin.
She had stood face-to-face with Nap Chance, friend of St. Martin, creator of Sanctuary, enemy of Corona.
The most powerful man in all the world. In all of the universe, perhaps. The man who would protect them from Corona.
The other children talked about it, especially the boys, about how Corona wanted to destroy Sanctuary because it was taking all of Corona's people. Because they didn't approve of the way people were treated on Sanctuary, especially children. On Corona, they all thought everyone should do things their way, even on Sanctuary. Sanctuary just wanted to be left alone.
They sure didn't worship orphans on Corona, Sonie knew that.
Sonie hoped Nap would destroy Corona. After she got Jamie out of there.
She had stood less than two metres away from him, and he had looked her straight in the eye. He had stopped dead in his tracks when their eyes met. It had actually unnerved Sonie a little. She wished now she could have thought of something to say, but she had gone completely, utterly mute, at the sight of him.
It had only last a few seconds. But, it seemed a lifetime. No one else at the school got as good a look at Nap Chance as Sonie had. They kind of saw him from a distance, but it was so hard to see through the crowd. It would have been deeply disappointing to the school except word got out that Sonie came within a couple metres of him. That made it a triumph for everyone. Did she touch him? The other children asked. No, she said, she hadn't been that close. But, he had looked right at her, she explained. He seemed nice. He had nice eyes. He didn't look as old as he was supposed to be, but he looked tired, she told them.
They let her go on errands around town a couple times a week now. One time, despite the debacle during Nap Chance's parade, they let her take a bunch of the little ones out on a trip to the city's main library. Sonie had to stay in the back to keep an eye on the active chatterboxes from the first grade, shooing them back onto the sidewalk when they tried to wander into stores and shops. She went to the front when they got to an intersection and had them all hold hands when they crossed the streets.
At the library, Sonie found the book about the famous painter who painted the chapel ceiling. She could read most of the book, though a teacher had to occasionally help her with some of the arcane and obsolete terms such as "vestibule" and "flying buttress." It had taken him years, not the one month Sonie took. It had utterly broken his health.
He also was not a painter by trade. He was a very famous sculpture first.
Because the little one behaved so well, Sonie treated them to the cocoa shop, where she had found refuge on her first trip outside the school alone. She didn't let them go into the toy or noodle shops, though. They would've never got back to the school before dark. A couple of the girls got whiny on the way back and Sonie let them take turns riding on her shoulders.
She no longer had to do cleaning or laundry chores, which was fine by her, because they were boring and mundane, though she occasionally still pitched in at the kitchen to help make meals. They had to prepare a enormous amount of food every day, and sometimes they needed every spare hand they could get. They paid her the same as before, but now they paid her to paint.
Sonie decided she would like her own Milky Way. The daytime paint was fine in the big girls' sleeping chambers, but she liked the comfort of the stars after the lights were dimmed. The other girls liked the idea, as well. She would paint another ceiling, but she had learned from her mistakes in the nursery. She couldn't do it alone this time. That was too hard and tiring. The big girls' ceiling was bigger and higher. She would need a lot of help. She couldn't possibly do it if she had to go up and down the gurney every half hour to move it.
They started making arrangements. For new supplies of glowing paint. A bigger gurney they could borrow from a factory. Several of the girls volunteered to help carry and mix paint and move the gurney around. Sonie thought they could do it in half a month, with enough organization. That was nothing compared to the years taken by the ancient painter back on Earth.
They rounded up more boys' overalls for the helpers.
A few days after the nursery ceiling was unveiled, Sonie was called into the administrator's office. At first she worried that they might have changed their minds about the shiv and were going to punish her after all.
There was a stranger in the room with them. He was very tall and thin. She recognized him.
"Sonie, this is Mr. Montoya." He held out a hand to shake it.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Sonie," he said.
"Sonie, Mr. Montoya has something very important to tell you, but you have to keep it a secret. Can you keep a secret?"
You have no idea, she thought.
"Sonie, you know the art teachers who have been working with you are some of the best artists in Trafalgar?" Mr. Montoya said.
"That's what they told me, ay."
"Well, some of them spoke at our antiquities and arts meeting that they think you have a special talent, and that some of your paintings should be displayed publicly, not just at the school."
"Errr, really?"
"Yes, really, Sonie, isn't that exciting?"
"I thought they were too scary."
"Yes, they're too frightening to be shown at the school, but your instructors say they're very powerful, and that people on Trafalgar need to see them."
Ay, they do that. She thought some people on Sanctuary had no idea how good they had it here.
"Sonie, we want to show the nursery to Mr. Montoya. Would you like to show him that?"
"That was kind of silly, though."
"No it wasn't, Sonie. That took a lot of work."
"So, Sonie, you were in a children's camp in Sorresatt."
"Ay."
"You know, I don't know if there's any other children on Sanctuary that were in a children's camp in Sorresatt. How did you get out?"
"A bunch of kids ran to the gates. Most of 'em got shot."
"But you made it."
"Ay."
"How did you get out of Sorresatt, Sonie. That must have been very difficult. No one gets out of Sorresatt."
"A couple of people helped me. They found me on the street. I guess they felt sorry for me because of my arm."
"Who were they, Sonie?"
"I dunno. Nice people. I don't like talking about Sorresatt."
A teacher took Mr. Montoya aside. Sonie could overhear their conversation.
"She was badly traumatized on Sorresatt, sir. It's difficult for her to talk about it. She had nightmares about it for months. We don't press her about it here."
Mr. Montoya raised an eyebrow, bowed to the teacher. "Of course," he said. "My apologies. I didn't mean to be insensitive."
"Sonie, I apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was rude. I understand Sorresatt must have been terrible for you."
"That's OK, mister," she said.
He knew, she realized. He knew she had a secret.
She could always tell who were the smart ones.