*The second chapter. This chapter has some places still requiring names - I'll get to them later. The idea is I'm building a first draft in public, which means there's going to be gaps, elisions, continuity errors, etc. Hopefully readers will forgive me that, even as they offer feedback on what is and isn't working for them.*
*As with chapter 1 this is longish - about 2,700 words. I understand if that's not for you.*
*If any one would be interested in collabing on art, drop me a line.*

*In [Part 1 Chapter 1](https://peakd.com/hive-199275/@stuartcturnbull/solstice-in-sar-chona-part-1-chapter-1) the sand ship Meayvil took on a mysterious passenger. In chapter 2 we move scene and characters to near Sar Chona itself.*

![sunrise-1578801__340.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/stuartcturnbull/23ycygjEPvG7MpnFj2UoZMQhikCNnMm3K6kW1uLpDBWzuXtwmTpjcnZ97tyK8mZP69wQK.jpeg)

It was bitterly cold. Not an unexpected thing with the Solstice only weeks away. But the cold along the Wyrnal Canal was deeper, more pervasive, than back in Sar-Chona. Without the press of houses, factories, and people, continuously throwing out heat, without the scant protection provided by The Bluffs against the prevalent winds, and with the cold water dominating the area, the canal was always colder. 

Tandhu Fierie strode along the old tow-path, careful not to turn an ankle on one of the ridges of mud which had frozen solid. The only sounds were her footsteps, and her breath. She could almost believe the world was empty, devoid of everyone but herself. There wasn’t even a ship chugging its way to or from the open water, bringing wares to or taking them from the vast swathe of warehouses around The Lumps the lowest area of Sar-Chona, the busiest, the smelliest part. Looking out into the ocean she could see a few ships making their way towards the canal, but they weren’t here now. Now it was quiet, allowing her time with her loud breath, and louder thoughts.
	
The arrival of Heneroch Finan to the city, or return, had thrown The Council into a confused frenzy in a way she hadn’t seen in the twenty years she worked in the bureaucracy which ran the city. There was always jostling and shoving, attempts to gain power or prestige, to curry favour and influence - such was the way the coterie of wealthy landowners who controlled the city played with their power.
	
Now this new player had arrived, and seemed determined to force his way onto the council without waiting for the periodical, irregular, elections. 
	
She’d not seen Heneroch Finan herself, only read the reports passed round The Council, seen the minutes of their meetings, half-heard conversation through open doors or in corridors. Still, it was enough to write a report and pass it on. He didn’t sound like the sort of person who would be interested in working to free the city from the dead hand which suppressed its inhabitants, to overthrow the cruel invasions of The Inspectorate and the terrors it wrought on those it deemed worthy of its ministrations.
	
Tandhu took her hand out the pocket and looked at a map. It was drawn on tracing paper, the ink adhesion so poor she’d once wiped half a map away by holding it in a sweaty palm, though the gloves worn to ease the cold would prevent that today. It was still a way to go, midway between lock gate three and two. She put the map back, tapped her chest where this months report sat in an interior pocket. She tapped the other pocket and felt the bulk of the shock-flail, shivered, and strode on with an pace she hoped would keep the blood flowing.
	
From the reedbeds on the other side of canal there came the low booming call of a bittern, from further in another responded. Once the marsh resonated with the sound of hundreds, thousands, of the birds. Hunting had driven them to the edge of extinction. Now there were punishments and fines for taking them, though that didn’t stop it happening. Punishments were vicious, though she heard members of The Council discussing the delicate taste of young bitterns around nesting time each year, and none of them ever found themselves in The Inspectorate’s cells.
	
The rising sun was easing the temperature up, and the shadow of an old winching house which fell across the path accentuated the difference sharply, causing Tandhu to shiver and pull her coat collar tight around her neck and bury her neck deeper into the layer of warmth provided. The  relative warmth returned as she headed back into the sunshine. 

A few steps further on a voice behind her said, “Do you not have a hat?” 
	
 turned, her foot sliding a little.
	
"Careful! You're too valuable for us to lose with a broken bone." Baz-Baz Chinelle had a wolfish smile, but there were dark rings and deep lines around his eyes. 
	
"Baz! What are you doing here?"
	
"Trying to convince you to restart the torrid affair we had as cadets, should you be quizzed.” He stepped out away from the side of the abandoned building. "Can we walk? I got a little chilly while waiting."
	
They started walking. As cadets, Baz had shortened his stride to make their walks more companionable. Now the effect of his false leg accomplished the same thing.  
	
"So why are you here Baz?"
	
"Coming to your drop was the easiest way to contact you at short notice. There’s a problem.”
	
“What sort of problem?” Tandhu turned her head to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed.
	
"Hoas Mertt was picked up by The Inspectorate. A good source tells us that he received enhanced interrogation. He told them everything he knew. Have you not heard any rumours of this?”
	
“No. The Council, Inspectorate working group is one I still haven’t been able to work in. And those in The Council who do remain the most tight lipped.’ Tandhu put thoughts of torture from her mind, not wanting to imagine the techniques used, aware of the fear The Inspectorate generated, even amongst The Council, who were mostly immune to its attentions. ‘How much could he have known? He hadn’t been back in the city long, and had solid cover.’
	
“Seems he knew more than he damn well should!" Baz said, angrily. 
	
The sound of more bitterns came from the other side of the canal and they both looked towards the noise. The birds remained hidden in the reeds and they saw nothing. The sky was a formless light blue, the occasional fluffy cloud drifted high up. A ships horn joined the call of the birds, drowning it out, cowing them to silence.
	
A ship had made it to the locks, giant sea gates which prevented storm surges being forced up the canal and into The Lumps. Flooding still happened, but now it was generally from the {river} flooding and work up country had even dissipated that in recent years. There were three sets of locks, each named for (some part of city mythos or location) the ship was between (1) and (2).
	
‘Do you reckon we can get to your drop before that ship makes it past (3) and into the canal?’ Baz-Ba asked. ‘Or is your drop still ages away?’
	
Tandhu looked at Baz-Baz, her eye-brows furrowed. They carried on for a few steps before she said, “It’s still ahead. Between (3) and (2). Who told you about Hoas. I thought we didn’t have anyone in The Inspectorate.’
	
‘We don’t. Officially. But we do have someone who has people who are in there and let’s just say the onset of Sublimation has been helpful.’
	
Tandhu didn’t know everyone in the group dedicated to wresting control of Sar-Chona away from the autocratic oligarchs who had run it since its rise to prominence and power as the linchpin of the conjoined continents, and bridge between the salt and the sand. But she knew one who might have something to do with Sublimation.
	
Crossing into the æther realm wasn’t something she could do. Mostly the period when the pull of it affected people in the normal world passed her by, though there was always extra work required to cover for those who endured the lassitude the period induced. ‘You brought Absalom Fanty into things? I thought he was still under observation and review.’ 
	
Absalom was an unusual fellow, a part-time scientist, part-time fantasist, perpetually broke scrounger, and a self declared Dream-Maester, an expert in helping æther users draw energy from their other realm when the effort of travelling between the two was made almost impossible by Sublimation.
	
He’d come to the groups attention by attending some of the meetings they held around the city to talk about the need for change, the desire fo all to be free to live lives as they saw fit and not bound by family traditions, or requirements to spend some of the best years of life in the cadets, especially when that led to wars that were never called wars and good people died or, as in Baz-Baz’s case, left with a life changing injury - even if prosthetic and mek-mek technology could do wonders to restore a person to a semblance of normalcy.
	
Tandhu didn’t trust Absalom. Not that she thought him an Inspectorate plant, though that was always a risk, rather she thought him a chancer looking to make whatever contacts he could to further his owns ends, to provide funds for his ongoing æther experiments. She’d heard him talk about things that got mentioned in the meetings, that were in pamphlets handed out, but to her ear they all sounded scripted, like he’d learnt the lines he thought he’d need, and could drop them out when it felt appropriate.
	
There was a marked difference when he spoke about his experiments, about his penury, about his desire to become rich and famous from forging a link between the realms which would allow æther energy to be used freely by all as a means of power.
	
It was why she’d rejected approaching him, recommended to the (group) that he not be approached until any doubts about his motivations could be ascertained. After all, someone who joined a venture with an ulterior motive was the most likely to betray them when times became difficult, or more convenient.
	
They turned off the towpath, heading up beside a minor river which flowed down into the canal, heading towards an old pump house which had provided water for the engines which powered the winches used to pull ships along the canal in the brief years before ships began moving under their power. The way was narrower than the footpath, and less maintained, but well used. The river was popular with ones seeking to augment their diet with freshly caught fish.
They came to a small bridge which crossed a small stream, a nameless tributary of the (river). The main ironwork had been pain painted black, while decorative trellis work panels on the guardrails had started white. Both were now worn and iron below was rusting. Without remedial work it likely wouldn’t remain a viable crossing for many more years. Half way across Tandhu paused and placed her hands on the top of the guardrail, the metal was icy cold and rough, but it barely registered over the turmoil in her mind.
She put her left hand back in her pocket, turned, and said “Baz.”
	
He looked at her.
	
"Were you already working for The Inspectorate when they picked Mertt up?"
	
Baz whipped his hands up, reaching for her neck. 
	
Tandhu was already stepping back sharply. She withdrew a compact shock-flail from her pocket, the charge primed and sparking in the chamber. "Ah, no, step back a little."  
	
"How did you know?"
	
She watched, debating with herself how to deal with him.  
	
"You knew where my dead drop was."
	
"I knew you picked that up.” 
	
“And I had a block on Absalom Fanty being used in any capacity, because he’s a self-obsessed bucket of smarm determined to become rich enough to be part of The Council, so there’s no way you had information come through him, as it would have needed to be routed through me. That’s how we stay secure, right?’

His already dark and tired eyes seemed to sink into his head, becoming hollow eand empty. He sunk into himself like a child’s bounce-bladder losing its air. Warm breath wreathed around his head in the icy stillness.	
	
"Why, Baz? What did they do that overturned what they had already done to you? I can't believe you’ve had a sudden change of heart for no reason. Bad faith remains bad faith, after all."
	
"Action has never really been my thing. Planning, co-ordinating I can do, but the instant decision…” he tailed off and was silent for a moment. “They picked me up after Hoas cracked. He gave me up. He'd held out. Right up until they abacinated him. The hot metal mask burning his eyes out broke him, and he gave them the only thing he had kept hold of. His contact, me. I was told this quite explicitly. My name was the only new piece of information that they got from him after the mask."
	
He shook his head and turned, placing his hands on the rail of the bridge. Tandhu kept her aim steady, listening to the confession pour out unprompted.
	
"They took me to see him, after they described how he was tortured. He was a mess. Mentally shot, muttering and blubbering about who knows what. But his face… his face was… there were blisters and pus and the smell. He already smelled dead. Then they talked to me about Gina."
	
Tandhu inhaled sharply but Baz carried on unheeding.
	
"You never knew about Gina, I didn't want her meeting anyone else in our circle. But they knew her. Discussed quite calmly how she would look after abacination. That the mask would go on with me in front of her, the last thing she ever saw, knowing it was my…  Oh cr--"
	
He broke down, tears flowing down his cheeks.
	
“What did you tell them?” She sounded calm, but her pulse was racing, the hand held steady but the effort required to keep it so had the muscles in her arm screaming in effort.  
	
“What do you think I told them Tandhu? I told them everything. The plot and plotters for Gina’s safety. That was the deal I struck, the last piece was delivering you and the contents of your dead drop. See, because of your position in the Executive they wanted to make sure there was evidence, not just the say so of some broken husk.”
	 
Tandhu looked from side to side, keeping Baz in her eyeline.
	
“There isn’t anyone watching. They’re to pick us up back at the ferry.”
	
“They were so sure you’d get me? Who interrogated you?”
	
“Who do you think? It was Secnish. She was proud of her handiwork, and she made sure I understood the process very well.”
	
“Did she say why they picked Hoas up?”
	
A half-laugh came from Baz-Baz. ‘Pure bad luck. He arrived in the city the same week as some business man. They asked me about him. Like I have anything to do with the scum who-‘
	
‘What businessman?’
	
‘I don’t know.’
	
‘Finan, was it Heneroch Finan.’
	
‘Yes, it was. Why, do you know him? He’s not one of us.’
	
’No, he’s not. But…’ Tandhu stopped and looked at Baz-Baz. When he said action wasn’t his thing he was right. If it hadn’t been for the injury all those years ago, he’d have probably ended up in The Inspectorate himself. They’d wanted him, but after their experience in the jungle down near Yeginder any sense of duty to his home city was destroyed.
	
Tandhu wondered what he’d told Gina, whoever she was. If he was willing to keep her a secret, he was likely willing to tell her things she shouldn’t know.
	
Baz-Baz said, ‘I’m sorry Tandhu. This wasn't meant to happen. I couldn’t risk Gina, I'm sorry."
	
Tandhu had been good at the snap decision made in the heat of the moment, at reaching a decision and following it through. ‘Me too Baz,’ she said, ‘me too."
	
She discharged the shock-flail and Baz convulsed, froth oozed from his mouth as the skeins of electrofulgence flowed around him. He fell forward and collapsed over the railing, his hands hanging limply, head pressed sideways against the iron trellis. Tandhu leaned down, took a hand from her glove, and reached two fingers through the trellis to check for a pulse. Satisfied there was none she stood, re-gloved, and tipped him over the side. The body splashed into the stream, breaking the thin crust of ice.
	
She looked down at her one time lover, her conspirator of many years. “Bye-bye Baz-Baz,” she whispered their old parting.


*words by stuartcturnbull pic from [nidan](https://pixabay.com/users/nidan-455298/) on [Pixabay](https://pixabay.com)*