Peril Read online

  ‘Yes.’ She waited for him to leave with his two friends before following. ‘Awkward,’ she whispered.

  Kel watched the girl in the art room from his corner by the potter’s wheel. She’d pushed her glasses to the top of her head and was lost in contemplation of her canvas. It was an amazing abstract of tiny dots with such minuscule colour differences in the blue spectrum. It was hard to see how she could paint it, but when you stood at a distance as he was you could see the overall effect of the sweep, like pixels becoming a photo. It was reminiscent of the curling wave in the Hokusai print, governed by the principles of the Fibonacci sequence of perfect proportion. She had a sketch next to her easel with the spiral marked out. He liked that. His own simple white pots all aspired to those same clean lines, nature when it was under control, not like the world outside that humans had mucked up.

  Kel cut the piece he had just made from the wheel with the wire. He hadn’t thought much about Meredith Marlowe before. She had kept in the background, always dressed in muted colours and usually hid herself behind that pair of thick black-rimmed glasses too big for her small face. It wasn’t until she laid into Lee with her snarky comments that his interest had been sparked. Geez, his friend annoyed him sometimes, completely overdoing the privilege thing. Since being appointed to Ade’s personal guard last month, Lee seemed to have forgotten the other vital part of their role was to be subtle and draw unwelcome attention away from the prince in their midst. Ade was going to have to have a word with him.

  ‘Kel, that’s lovely.’ The art teacher, Miss Hardcastle, came to stand at his shoulder. ‘I don’t know how you get it so even. It looks almost as if a machine made it.’

  ‘Does it? Oh.’ That wasn’t the effect he wanted at all. He wanted it pure, not inhuman.

  ‘No, no, that’s not a criticism; it’s great. And they always come out of the kiln so much whiter than the other pieces we put in. I don’t understand that either.’

  That was all part of being him. His hands could lightly bleach things if he concentrated hard, a channelling of his natural UV energy. All his kind absorbed it from the environment and could release it back when they learned control. ‘I must have the magic touch, I guess.’

  The teacher laughed. ‘You can say that again. OK, so into the kiln with this one. You’re doing really well on your A level pieces. Make sure you keep your art book up to date with your notes and observations.’

  Inspired by a famous British potter who had a show at the New Tate in Alexandra Palace, Kel was making a wall display of his pure white pots on shelving made from driftwood. ‘I’ll do some now.’

  ‘Then I’ll leave you to it.’

  The teacher walked off to talk to Meredith. Her face was less appreciative as she contemplated the girl’s canvas. Kel could hear her complaining that she couldn’t see what Meredith was trying to achieve, nor understand her influences. From happy concentration, Meredith had turned to sullen listener. Kel eavesdropped as he washed his hands at the sink.

  ‘What are you going to say in your project write-up about your inspiration, Meredith? I’m not sure the examiners will see the point of lots of dots of the same colour on the canvas.’

  ‘They’re not the same colour.’ Meredith had bundled her brown hair up in a scarf to keep it out of the way. Strands were beginning to escape as she grew more upset, her movements jerky.

  ‘As near as makes no difference. It’s making my eyes cross. What school of art are you following?’

  ‘I’m not. I’m just painting something I can see in my head.’

  ‘But that’s not good enough to get an A level. Look, why don’t you have a think about the other pieces the students are doing and study their write-ups? Kel’s doing a really interesting ceramics project, for example. I can see that you’ve got a vision here but I just don’t think the execution is doing it justice.’

  Miss Hardcastle was wrong. It was brilliantly done, technically flawless. Why couldn’t she see it?

  ‘OK, Miss.’ Meredith put her brush down and wiped off her fingers on a rag. ‘What should I do with this?’

  Why wasn’t she fighting her corner? Kel wondered. The snarky girl on the bus had vanished.

  ‘You’ve got time to start again. Paint over it if you want. Good canvases are expensive.’

  Meredith looked away and out of the window to the rooftops of the flats opposite the school, looking a little lost and a lot damaged by the criticism. Kel’s heart ached for her. ‘Can I take it home?’

  ‘If you like. Will your parents be able to stump up for a new canvas? The school budget is cut to the bone and you know what strict controls there are on resources these days.’

  Meredith swallowed hard. ‘I’ll ask my guardian.’

  ‘Sorry, yes, er, parent or guardian I meant to say.’ The teacher patted Meredith awkwardly on the arm. ‘Don’t worry about making mistakes. You’re here to learn. If I had my way, we’d have an endless line of supplies to play with but governments cutbacks mean I just don’t have that luxury. They’re rationed like everything else.’

  A siren wailed in the street outside and immediately shutters scrolled down over all the windows. The solar-powered lights flickered on.

  ‘Looks like another storm front, people,’ announced Miss Hardcastle, checking her watch. ‘But it’s also the end of the lesson. You can stay here during break if you wish. I’m off to have a lovely cup of coffee-sub in the staff shelter.’ She grimaced. ‘To think I took real coffee beans for granted when I was your age. See you next lesson.’

  Kel finished packing up, all the while keeping an eye on Meredith. Her stance was so telling; it was almost as if he could hear her thoughts as she stood in front of her canvas. She was devastated by the teacher’s verdict, particularly because she’d been so proud of it until that moment. Suddenly she took up a fat brush and dipped it in the darkest shade of blue on her palette. He knew what she was going to do before she did it.

  Vaulting a table he got to her side just in time to seize her wrist. ‘Don’t.’

  Her sea green eyes were glittering with fury. He hadn’t noticed their colour until that moment; they fairly snapped with energy. ‘Why not? You heard her: it’s rubbish.’

  ‘It’s not rubbish. It’s beautiful.’ He didn’t let go of her wrist, though he could feel her straining to get free.

  ‘That doesn’t matter. Theo can’t afford another canvas.’

  ‘Who’s Theo?’

  ‘My guardian.’ Mind made up, she moved to deface her picture again, jerking against his hold.

  ‘Look, Meredith, I like it. I’ll buy it off you.’

  That surprised her. She let him take the brush from her fingers. ‘With what?’

  ‘Money. What else do you think? Not my body. I have my pride,’ he teased. And he also had his wage as Ade’s guard to draw on.

  ‘Funny guy, huh?’ Disarmed of paintbrush, he allowed her to wriggle her wrist free of his grip.

  He leaned a little closer, wanting to make her smile again. ‘You mocking the value of my skills in that area?’

  She blushed and looked away. He guessed that meant she didn’t do the flirting thing but he was pleasantly surprised when she came up fighting. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re worth on the open market, Kel, but I’ll take payment for the painting. In cash.’

  He grinned. ‘OK. How much?’

  She named a sum that was the exact amount of a new canvas. He came back with an offer double the amount.

  Meredith shook her head at him. ‘I don’t think you’ve grasped the concept of this bargaining thing. You’re supposed to undercut my price, not suggest more.’

  God, she was cute when she got all serious with him. He doubled his amount again.

  She held her hand up. ‘Stop, stop, you crazy guy! OK, I’ll accept that first price. And I’ll trust you’re good for it so you can take this today if you want.’ She turned back to look at it, sliding her glasses over her eyes. ‘I don’t want to see it again.’

&nb
sp; The storm arrived just as expected, five minutes after the siren. Rain drummed down on the roof making it difficult to hear what anyone was saying. The roads and playground outside would soon be awash, storm drains struggling to cope.

  Kel picked up the canvas and took it over to the potter’s wheel that was unofficially his part of the art room. He didn’t trust her alone with the picture. ‘I’ll wait until this passes. Don’t want my new painting to get wet.’

  She pretended not to care, occupying herself with clean-up, putting brushes in white spirit. ‘Suit yourself.’

  ‘And it really is very good. I don’t know why the teacher couldn’t see it. A perfect curve.’

  She bit her bottom lip shyly. ‘You think?’

  ‘I think.’

  Picking up her bag, she turned to go. ‘I’m Meri, by the way.’

  ‘Come again?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s not a statement about my frame of mind, but my preferred name. M E R I. Meredith sounds too old somehow.’

  ‘Meri.’ He tested it out. The nickname didn’t really suit the quiet, sarcastic girl before him but he’d go with it if she liked. ‘See you around, Meri.’

  With the playing fields a quagmire, afternoon sport was moved inside. Most of the sixth form preferred to slope off as it wasn’t compulsory, but Kel enjoyed the chance to exercise. He wondered what Meri would do. She so looked the sloping off sort. When he didn’t see her among the girls playing basketball, he decided he had called that right.

  Ade lined up his bat against the stumps in the nets. ‘Sock it to me.’

  Kel took a run up and span the ball. Ade managed to connect but it went off at an odd angle. Ade swore.

  ‘You’d’ve been caught behind if this was a real game,’ said Kel, collecting the cricket ball and rubbing it on his tracksuit bottoms.

  Ade’s dark eyes glared at him through the wire mesh of his helmet. ‘Again.’

  The second ball went straight past him and took out the middle stump.

  ‘Bloody hell, Kel, can’t you let a guy warm up?’

  ‘I thought you said, and I quote, “sock it to me”?’

  ‘I kind of meant ease me in gently. We all know you county level players far outclass the rest of us.’

  ‘OK, I’ll bowl underarm next time.’

  ‘Hah, hah.’

  ‘Anyway, I was thinking about giving up the county next season.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘My duties take up too much time.’

  ‘Kel, I’m your friend, not a prison. When they brought you to be with me, I don’t think they meant you to take it so seriously.’

  Kel rotated his arm in preparation for the next ball. ‘Why not? You know what you mean to our people.’

  ‘Yeah, like there are hundreds of people just queuing up to assassinate me. The last Tean attack was what? A decade ago?’

  It had been fourteen. Kel even knew how many days had passed as it was the attack in which his mother had died. ‘Doesn’t mean they’re still not out there. You know that’s why you and your cousins are spread out all over the globe.’

  ‘So one or two of us might survive come hell or high water. Yeah I get it. The high water bit is no longer so funny since sea levels started going mad.’

  Kel bowled an easy ball, allowing Ade to make a connection with a satisfying crack. ‘Better?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You going to have a word with Lee about this morning?’

  ‘Already did.’

  ‘His job has gone to his head.’

  ‘Can’t think why. Guarding a guy who may or may not one day be ruler of a scattered people—I’m using ruler in the loosest sense here as I bet none of you will take the least notice of my directions—it’s hardly something to boast about.’

  ‘Lee thinks it is. He thinks our civilization is superior and therefore to be preserved at all costs’

  ‘He always put too much store by tradition.’

  ‘It’s what’s kept us together over the millennia.’

  ‘So no pressure then.’

  A whistle blew and the sports teacher shouted from the other end of the gym. ‘Are you two old women going to stand there gassing all day or are you actually going to, you know, PLAY SOME CRICKET?’

  ‘See the grovelling respect I get,’ said Ade sourly.

  ‘Yes, your highness,’ murmured Kel, taking another run at him.

  Later, in the locker rooms, Kel stood under the hot shower meditatively rubbing soap into his skin. Still nothing to see. Funny to think that hidden under there were his tribal markings, bred into their race over the millennia of artificial selection. He already knew what they were likely to be. His dad was a spiral, his mum had been a leaf, but spiral usually came out dominant in the male line. Soon the marks would start to show when he was in combat or in a highly emotional state, visible only to others like him. It was the real mark of adulthood for their kind and he couldn’t wait for his turn to come.

  Tying a towel round his waist he padded out barefoot to join Ade on the bench. Ade’s markings had, of course, come through very young. He’d been only thirteen when the turtle-backed markings of the ruling house had become apparent. His family always did things early. The average for the flare-out was between eighteen and twenty.

  Kel pulled on a shirt. ‘I bought a painting today.’

  Ade looked up. ‘You serious?’

  ‘Yeah, from the mouse girl. The teacher had told her it was crap so she was about to destroy it.’

  Ade rubbed his short hair dry. ‘And is it crap?’

  ‘Why would I buy a crap painting?’

  ‘It didn’t escape me that the mouse is not totally without her good points.’

  ‘What? Sarcasm and bag lady clothes?’ That was unfair. Her clothes were perfectly acceptable, just very dull and calculated to hide everything about her figure.

  ‘OK, so it’s not crap. Why did you buy it?’

  ‘Because it is brilliant, so subtle. I’ll show you later. The funny thing, the teacher really couldn’t see it. The colour definition went totally over her head. Sure, it’s on the edge of what ordinary people can perceive but I could see it clearly. Must be ironic that it's the art teacher with the poorest eyesight in that class. I'm sure there are plenty of others who would've got it.’

  Ade turned that over in his mind for a moment. ‘You know that sight is one of our markers?’

  ‘That’s what I was beginning to wonder. Do you think the mouse might be one of the lost ones?’ That was the name they gave to people born outside their community, perhaps on the rare occasions when someone married out or had a child with a person who didn’t carry the same genetic code that gave them their distinctive characteristics. Occasionally a kid would emerge who knew nothing about their way of life.

  ‘Sounds like you should find out more. If her markings come through and she doesn’t know what that means, she’s going to be very confused and the doctors very interested, thinking she’s hallucinating—that’s until they turn a UV lamp on her and go wild with speculation. I can’t count how many hours we’ve spent changing official records to hide these lapses in our security.’

  ‘There are no markings. I saw her arms as she was wearing short-sleeves.’

  ‘Still, they might come through any day now. Worth checking.’

  ‘I think she’s separated from her birth parents. She mentioned a guardian.’

  ‘Then get close to her and find out as much as you can. They might be on our database. I’ll run her name tonight to see what we might already know.’

  ‘And if she is?’

  ‘Then we cross that bridge when we come to it. She could just have exceptional UV vision. It’s not unknown, though usually only very young kids tend to have the skill for a few years. That helps because we can easily pretend what they see is childish make-believe. They come to think that too when the ability fades.’

  ‘And yet she wears glasses.’ Kel frowned. ‘Not when painting thoug
h, so that means she’s what, short sighted?’

  ‘You figure it out. Consider it part of your bodyguard duties. Now let’s get that picture of yours—I’d like to see what you’re seeing—and head back to headquarters. We’ve got training tonight.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Ade punched him lightly in the stomach. ‘Don’t call me “sir”.’

  Kel knew exactly how to wind up his best friend. ‘No, sir. I won't call you “sir”, sir.’

  ‘I’ll get you redeployed to my cousin in Greenland if you don’t cut that out.’

  Ade would never do that to him. ‘I hear and obey,…sir.’

  Ade laced up his shoes. ‘Are princes still allowed to order summary executions, I wonder?’

  2

  Meri squashed the garlic through the press and scraped off the white residue into the frying pan. It sizzled, quickly going brown at the edges. She divided and conquered it with a wooden spoon, humming a song under her breath.

  The front door banged and a few seconds later Theo entered the kitchen. He dropped his shiny black cycle helmet on the table. It lay there like an upside-down beetle.

  ‘Smells good. What are you cooking?’

  ‘Veggie lasagne.’

  ‘My favourite. I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven.’ He kissed the top of her head, using that move to steal a carrot off the side.

  ‘You will go to heaven with no lasagne if you keep that up.’ She mock threatened him with the spoon.

  He chuckled and opened the fridge. ‘Apple juice?’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘I thought the stove was broken.’

  ‘Not broken, Theo. You just hadn’t read the manual.’

  ‘I’m a bloke: we like to muddle through.’

  ‘Well, I’m a girl and I find reading the instructions helps sort out tricky little details, like how to cancel the delayed timer you’d programmed by mistake.’

  ‘Smarty pants.’ He poured her a glass, taking a beer for himself. ‘Do you remember the days when we used to think orange juice was boring?’

  ‘Not really. I think I was too young when everything started changing. I don’t remember the before.’