Storm Thief Read Online Free Page B

There was no handle on the door on this side. He kicked it, but it didn’t give. He swore and kicked it again.
    â€œRail. . .” said Moa, her voice thick with exhaustion. She sounded like she had already given up. “They’re coming.”
    The steps were made of slatted iron, and through them it was possible to see to the bottom of the stairwell. There were shapes down there; quick, darting movements. The sound of hobnailed boots, now fast in a rattle, now slow again.
    â€œOpen this frecking door!” Rail cried, his respirator flattening the desperate edge on his voice. He pounded the rhythm again, and a moment later there was the sound of grinding as the lock was disengaged. Rail dragged Moa up again. An explosive shriek came from below, stuttering into rapid nonsense.
    The door came open and they shoved through it. Moa fell out into the cluttered alleyway beyond. Rail was already slamming the door behind him. He caught a glimpse of one of the creatures, racing towards him as fast as a spider, and then the door crunched shut. The wheel-shaped locking mechanism clattered out a jerky manoeuvre, and the bolt thumped home.
    Rail leaned against the metal for a moment, listening to the thwarted howls of the Mozgas. Then he turned on the one who had opened the door. The boy was runty and small, dressed in a waterproof poncho and wearing a battered hat, and he held a small, half-eaten pie in one hand. He backed away a little under Rail’s glare. The rain drifted down from the slice of grey sky visible overhead.
    â€œWhere were you, Fulmar?” Rail grated. “Why didn’t you answer?”
    The boy’s face was a picture of fright. “You won’t tell Anya-Jacana, will you? You won’t tell her?”
    Rail took a step towards him and snatched the pie out of his hand. At the end of the alleyway he could see the stalls of a street-market.
    â€œYou can’t do one thing right, can you?” he snarled. He crouched down next to Moa, helping her sit up. “Here, eat this,” he told her, his voice softer now. Moa took it from him wearily.
    â€œWhat is it?” she murmured.
    â€œBest not to ask,” he said. “Eat.”
    â€œI was only gone for a moment,” Fulmar whined from behind him. “I got hungry. I’d been waiting for—”
    Rail held a hand up to silence him, not bothering even to look. “I’ll deal with you later.”
    â€œYou won’t tell her, will you? Please?” Fulmar was almost shaking now.
    Rail ignored the question. He was watching Moa take tiny nibbles from the pie. “OK?” he murmured. “Can you move?”
    Moa swallowed and nodded. Gently, he helped her to her feet.
    â€œCome on,” he said, as if soothing a child. “Told you I wouldn’t let them hurt you. I always look out for you, don’t I?”
    She nodded again, barely seeming to hear him. The two of them walked slowly down the alleyway towards the market, his arm around her shoulder to support her, the rain soaking into their clothes. Fulmar cast a nervous glance at the metal door, where scratching noises had begun, and then hurried after them.

Cretch was watching the panopticon in his battered red armchair when Ephemera burst into the room and said: “Granpapa! Come and look at Vago!”
    He tutted and waved at her to go away, not turning from the machine. It was a great brass periscope that hung from the ceiling, with knobs on either side which he was twiddling anxiously, making frustrated noises as he did so.
    â€œWhy do they make the writing so small in these things? Don’t they think of old men like me?”
    â€œThat’s why they have pictures ,” Ephemera said, as if it was obvious. “Come on, come and look, Vago’s doing something silly!”
    â€œWhat is he doing, child?” Cretch sighed.
    â€œYou have to come and look !” she demanded.
    He drew back from the shielded