The Scar - China Mieville [236]
“That was when we learnt its name,” Carrianne said.
“But it’s so uncertain,” said Bellis, and Carrianne nodded.
“Of course.”
“The ships, the fleet . . .”
Carrianne nodded again. “Some are already tethered to the city. And when the others can’t follow us, that’s alright. Our ships have always sailed alone for months at a time, and they always find their way back to us. Those following us now know what’s happening, and those that are away, well, this is nothing new. The city’s always had its own movements. We’re not going to disappear in the Hidden Ocean, Bellis. We’re not here to stay . . . We’re here to find the Scar, and then leave again.”
“But what the fuck kind of place is this?” said Bellis thinly. “We’ve no idea what’s here, what kind of powers, what creatures, what enemies . . .”
Carrianne frowned and shook her head. “That’s all true,” she said. “I understand.” She shrugged. “You’re against the idea. Alright, you’re not alone. There’s a vessel leaving in two days, I think, heading back to the Swollen Ocean, crewed by naysayers, to wait for the city’s return. Though . . .” Her voice petered away. They both realized that Bellis was not one of those who would ever be allowed off-city. “Most of us,” continued Carrianne, “think this is worth doing.”
“Not at all,” Carrianne said quietly, a little later. “I trust the Brucolac, and I’m sure he has reasons for opposing the plans. But I think he’s wrong. I’m excited, Bellis,” she said. “Why shouldn’t we try this? This could be . . . this could be the most exciting time, the finest hour in our history. We have to try.”
Bellis felt something that at first she did not recognize. Not depression or misery or cynicism, but despair. The feeling of all plans, all options, dying.
I’ve lost, she thought, without melodrama or even anger.
Carrianne was not a brainwashed fool, someone unthinking and buffeted by rhetoric. She had heard the arguments—even partial and partisan as they had undoubtedly been. She must have realized that this venture had been a long time in the planning, and that therefore she and those around her had been deceived.
And still, considering all that, she had decided that the Lovers’ plan was a good one. One that was worthwhile.
That was a sneaky trick, thought Bellis to the Lovers. That was below the belt. I didn’t foresee this.
Lies, schemes, manipulations, bribery, violence, corruption—I expected all that, she thought. But I never expected you simply to have the argument, and to win.
The thought of Fench’s stillborn pamphlet fleeted through her mind, and she moved her shoulders in a dead kind of laugh. The Truth! she imagined. Garwater Drags Armada To THE SCAR!
The truth.
You win, she thought, and let go of hope. I’ll be here till I die. I’ll grow old here, a crabby old lady imprisoned on a boat, and I’ll scratch the scars on my back (dear gods they will be wicked) and mutter and complain. Or perhaps I’ll die with the rest of you, and with you my rulers, in some stupid, terrible accident of the Hidden Ocean.
Either way, I’m yours, if I like it or not. You’ve won.
You are taking me with you. You are taking me to the Scar.
Chapter Forty-two
Where for the longest time there had been a shadow, the sky was clear.
The Arrogance was gone.
A rope stub lay on the deck where the airship had been tethered to the Grand Easterly. It had been severed, and the aerostat had flown free.
“Hedrigall,” Bellis heard from all around her. She stood amid the crowd that had gathered, gaping at the hole in the skyscape. The yeomanry had made brief attempts to keep onlookers back, but had given up in the face of their numbers.
Bellis could move more freely now. She still recoiled at pressure on her back, but there was no more bleeding. Some of the smaller scabs were beginning to peel at the edges. She shifted slightly at the edge of the crowds.
“Hedrigall—and he was alone.” Everyone was saying it.
As Armada slipped farther into the Hidden Ocean, its vessels had more and more difficulty keeping up with