The Scar - China Mieville [268]
There were shouts of agreement around him, but the crowd’s momentum was draining away, and though there were some curses, no one tried to follow and intercept Hedrigall or the Lovers. There was too much uncertainty.
Bellis realized that Uther Doul had found her in the crowd, and was watching her carefully.
“It ain’t right,” yelled Tanner, veins protruding with rage as the party entered the doors and the guards moved in behind them. Uther Doul still did not move his eyes. Bellis could not help but meet them, uncomfortable in his gaze. “He’s my mate,” said Tanner. “It’s my right. It’s my right to hear what he has to say . . .”
And as he spoke, at that moment, something extraordinary happened.
Bellis still met Doul’s unshaking stare, and as Tanner claimed his right to hear Hedrigall, Doul’s eyes spasmed and opened wide with an almost sexual intensity. Bellis watched, stunned, as his head inclined a fraction of an inch, as if in invitation, or agreement.
He gazed at her even as his party entered the corridors, walking backward to join them, holding her attention, raising his eyebrows a tiny bit, suggestive, as he disappeared.
Oh my gods.
Bellis felt as if she had been punched hard in her solar plexus.
A great revelatory wave washed over her: a stunned appreciation, an insinuation of the layers and layers and layers of manipulation in which she was caught, frozen, maneuvered and exploited, used and supported and betrayed.
She still understood virtually nothing of what was happening around her, what was being done, what had been planned, and what was contingent.
But some things she knew, humbly and suddenly.
Her own place. So much, so many plans, so much effort had been expended to bring her to this place at this instant, to hear the words that she had heard. Everything came together here and now; everything coalesced and became clear.
And in her astonishment and awe, and in her humiliation, and despite her anger, feeling herself danced undignified as a marionette to her allotted mark, Bellis bowed her head and readied herself, knowing she had one more job to do, to effect a change she wanted, and knowing she would not spite herself for revenge, and that she would do it.
“Tanner,” she said to him as he raged and cursed, arguing furiously, shouting against the majority, at those who told him he was overreacting, that the Lovers knew what they were doing.
He paused and stared at her in angry bemusement. She beckoned him.
“Tanner,” she said, unheard by any but him. “I agree with you, Tanner,” she whispered. “I think you have every right to hear what Hedrigall might say, down there in the Lovers’ berth.
“Come with me.”
It was not hard to find a way through empty hallways in the Grand Easterly. The loyal guards were stationed at points by which someone might make their way to the Lovers’ quarters, down in the boat’s low reaches. But only those corridors, and that was not where Bellis and Tanner were heading.
She took him down other passageways she had learned very well over the weeks of indulging what she could only think of as her perversion.
They passed storerooms and engines and armories. Walking quickly but openly, not like trespassers, Bellis led Tanner lower and lower, into a dimly lit zone.
She did not know it, but Bellis took Tanner close by the way to the rockmilk engines that were churning and whirring and sparking, driving the avanc on.
And eventually, in a dark and narrow passage where the walls were free of aging wallpaper and heliotypes and etchings, were lined instead with knotted pipework as intricate as veins, Bellis turned to Tanner Sack and gestured him to enter. She stood in the cramped and cosseted environs, turned her head to him, and kept him silent with a raised finger.
They stood without movement for some time, Tanner looking around him, at the ceiling at which Bellis stared, at Bellis herself.
When finally they heard the sound of a door opening and closing, it