City on Fire (Metropolitan) by Williams Walter Jon

Author:Williams, Walter Jon [Williams, Walter Jon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: myth, aiah, plasm, secondary world, epic fantasy, science fiction, constantine, cyberpunk, science fantasy
Published: 2012-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

AN EMPTY SOUL OFTEN SCORNS WISDOM

A THOUGHT-MESSAGE FROM HIS PERFECTION, THE PROPHET OF AJAS.

Before they leave the apartment they bathe together, fitting their tall bodies with a certain deliberation into a long, oval tub that would have been ample for one. The scented water floats over Aiah like a milder version of the plasm fire that Constantine has called to aid her pleasure. The stress knots in her neck and shoulders, which had already begun to loosen their grip over the last few hours, are dissolved entirely by soap, scent, and Constantine’s powerful hands. Aiah dries her hair, then puts on her little red dress while in the other room Constantine calls Aldemar on the phone.

“She is the only person who knows we’re here,” he says as he hangs up the headset. “If something happened to her, I would be embarrassed to find a way back to Caraqui.”

He gives Aldemar a few minutes, and then slides open the patio door to let her plasm sourceline enter. A cool breeze floats in, along with the sound of traffic. He and Aiah fall into one another’s arms, Aiah pressing herself to his massive chest, his ruffled shirt against her cheek. She closes her eyes, wanting to prolong the moment, and keeps them shut as the power snarls around her.

“I brought you back to my apartment,” Aldemar says as Aiah blinks at the surroundings. She sits on a sofa with her feet up, elegant as possible considering she is dressed in a bathrobe with her hair wrapped in a kind of turban.

Aiah turns to her. “Thank you,” she says. “That was wonderful of you.”

“These days I seem to be using my talents mostly to move spies and munitions about,” she says. “I’m pleased to use my abilities in the service of love. And I would be happy to do so again." She casts a skeptical look at Constantine. “If the two of you ever have another free moment.”

Constantine bends to kiss Aldemar’s hand, then her cheek. “Thank you,” he says.

Aldemar looks at Aiah. “We’ll have lunch soon, yes?”

“Of course.”

Constantine straightens, sighs. A kind of weight seems to settle onto his shoulders, and a distant crash of artillery rattles the windows. “And now,” he says, “we must return to our lives.” A kind of resentment enters his face. “Our military, militarized lives.”

Aiah’s heart sinks. She had not wanted a reminder.

Criminals and war and refugees and horror.

The windows rattle again.

Time to go back to work.

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