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Back Beyond the Burn Line Save as PDF
Chapters (66)
  1. Copyright
  2. Contents
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1.
  6. 2.
  7. 3.
  8. 4.
  9. 5.
  10. 6.
  11. 7.
  12. 8.
  13. 9.
  14. 10.
  15. 11.
  16. 12.
  17. 13.
  18. 14.
  19. 15.
  20. 16.
  21. 17.
  22. 18.
  23. 19.
  24. 20.
  25. 21.
  26. 22.
  27. 23.
  28. 24.
  29. 25.
  30. 26.
  31. 27.
  32. 28.
  33. 29.
  34. 30.
  35. 31.
  36. 32.
  37. Part Two
  38. 1.
  39. 2.
  40. 3.
  41. 4.
  42. 5.
  43. 6.
  44. 7.
  45. 8.
  46. 9.
  47. 10.
  48. 11.
  49. 12.
  50. 13.
  51. 14.
  52. 15.
  53. 16.
  54. 17.
  55. 18.
  56. 19.
  57. 20.
  58. 21.
  59. 22.
  60. 23.
  61. 24.
  62. 25.
  63. 26.
  64. 27.
  65. 28.
  66. By Paul McAuley:

He saddled the mara and hung the bag stuffed with clothes and books on the saddle horn. The mara snorted and stamped, eager to be off, but Pilgrim climbed the stair to the apartment one last time. Everything was exactly as he’d left it; Gentle still wasn’t back. Pilgrim trimmed the wick of the lamp and left it burning at the window and went out.

There were lights in several of the narrow windows of the fat silhouette of the central tower, too: Grace Wren Saltmire was not at carnival that night. Pilgrim wondered if he should say goodbye to her, knew that he could not risk it. He also knew that he should trust Gentle to return and discover the white cloth and find his way to Teal’s cabin, but when he reached the place where the track divided he turned right instead of left, towards the town. Perhaps Gentle had stumbled into some kind of trouble, or in the heat and excitement of his liaison with the widow had forgotten his promise to make his way to the rendezvous in good time, and because he was responsible for dragging him to this neglected little town at the far end of civilisation, Pilgrim couldn’t leave him behind. And besides, it shouldn’t take long to find him. The town was small, and most people would be in its central square. If Gentle wasn’t amongst them Pilgrim would discover where his widow lived and rouse him from her bed.

He let the mara find its way in the near dark, ambling past scrub pasture, past tents pitched either side of the track. People were prancing around a bale fire to the cross-rhythms of goblet drums, claves and handclaps. A couple was openly rutting against a tree.

He was riding through the outskirts of the town, the noise of the central square directly ahead, when brilliant lights kindled on either side and shadowy figures moved towards him. For a moment he thought that they were revellers, and called out, asking them to make way. One grabbed the mara’s bridle and as she tossed her blunt head and halted Noble Seatree stepped forward, aiming the beam of an electric candle at Pilgrim’s face and telling him that the game was up.

24.