Free Angel Stations by Gary Gibson

and he left it at that. It would have been very impolite, if not a little sacrilegious, for him to inquire as to the nature of that privileged conversation between god and acolyte.
    ‘Well, as recorded here, Xan’s generals sent us a delegation seemingly to remind us that Xan is the reincarnation of the Fhide, and therefore Nubala was now part of Xan’s empire – lucky us.’ Turthe mumbled rapidly as he ran his fingers along the lines of symbols. ‘Naturally, being the race of canthre-licking piss-snow-eating troglodytes that they are, they saw fit to make demands. Well, that’s a bunch of inbred southerners for you. Anyway, as we all know,’ with this, he glanced up, ‘they also demanded we hand over Shecumpeh, in accordance with the Prophecies of the Fhide.’
    The Prophecies of the Fhide? The Fhide had been a great ruler before the snows came, one of the First People, who had sought – briefly succeeding – to unite all the city-nations, including Nubala. Shortly before his death – in this, most of the Great Books of the various cities were agreed – corruption and betrayal destroyed his loose-knit empire from within. Most histories also agreed that the Fhide had predicted on his deathbed that he would come again to rebuild his empire. Inspired by this prophecy, Xan had led a so far successful campaign to consolidate the fractured lands on the opposite shore of the world, and had recently even proclaimed himself the reincarnation of the legendary Fhide. If anyone in Nubala actually believed that, few would publicly admit to it.
    ‘Remarkable.’ Turthe shook his head. ‘Nonetheless, before we became trapped in here by the siege, it was coming to light that Xan’s armies had already succeeded in stealing the gods of different cities all across the known world. Even now, perhaps, the lunatic is planning to encroach on great Baul itself.’
    ‘But we won’t hand over Shecumpeh to Xan, will we?’ said Ursu.
    ‘Of course not. And bring the ice storming back in again, once it sees there is nothing to protect us from it? My own grandfather used to tell me what life was like in Nubala when he himself was a boy, and he described his piss freezing so fast, when he went to take a leak, that he could see the ice reaching for his delicates before he’d barely started.’
    Ursu smiled; Turthe was always a lot more approachable than some of the other senior Masters.
    ‘But if they do succeed in entering the city, and taking Shecumpeh from—’
    ‘Careful what you say, young Master-in-Waiting,’ said Turthe. ‘Shecumpeh will triumph as always. Does it not say so, in the Great Book itself?’
    Ursu nodded.
    ‘One hopes you do not have doubts, Ursu,’ the old one continued. ‘In times of war and desperation this may be forgivable, but perhaps not admirable.’ Ursu tried to look appropriately reproachful. Turthe emerged from behind the low table on which the Great Book rested and placed a hand on his shoulder.
    ‘The whole matter of the siege is fairly straightforward. They want Shecumpeh, but we don’t want to give it to them.’
    Ursu gazed into his wide black eyes. ‘Nonetheless, if they . . .’
    ‘Enter the city?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Then they . . .’
    ‘Will take it anyway?’
    Ursu glanced through the pale light cast by burning tallow towards the entrance to Turthe’s workroom. Nobody was in there, but he still felt as if every word he said was somehow being conveyed throughout the whole of the House of Shecumpeh.
    ‘Perhaps,’ said Turthe sadly. ‘Perhaps even inevitably.’ He looked at Ursu for the longest time. ‘And whatever shall we all do then?’ he asked.
    ‘I – don’t know,’ Ursu said carefully.
    ‘No?’ Turthe’s ears twitched alongside his skull. ‘Pity. I was rather hoping you had been imparted some ideas.’
    Kim
    Kim fell into old routines with what felt to her like depressing ease. Unless there were some really exciting new nightspots down on Kasper, the Angel Station