Hughes - Ra

Originally published serially on Things Of Interest, 20112014 and 2018

This ebook published 2018

Copyright Sam Hughes

Cover illustration by Cryptovexillologist

"Nottingham has enough pubs and clubs", say the local police. If you wanted to get around every last one of them it would be a year at a brisk trot before you were starting to visit establishments more than one mile from the centre of the city. Pick a Friday or a Saturday, any Friday or Saturday of the year: the establishments will be rammed and jumping and the streets bustling with people in their most tightly-wound and elaborately crafted drinking costumes. It's almost Christmas but the cold season has not added much to the average number of layers. Multicoloured decorative illuminations span the alleys and narrower streets: yellow curlicues and red stars and inexplicably five-pointed white snowflakes. Orange light spills out onto the street from the pubs. Floodlit trams cruise past, bells ringing at stumbling people in the way. Officers with cars and vans and fluorescent visibility jackets hold a largely pre-emptive presence on various likely streets. Quite frankly, it's a quiet one.

Laura Ferno and her three compatriots and that's how she thinks of them, herself plus three, there is no question in her mind as to who is the first among these equals stumble across the Square towards Iris, ratted on vodka-and-vodkas, largely insulated from the cold by the invisible effects of booze. There is a saying. "Drink through it." "It" is usually clear from context, but in this case the interpretation seems to be "life".

Laura is the shortest and darkest and cleverest of the four. "You're so clever!" Diane and Sandra tell her, all the time. She denies it, and tries not to show it. Highly polysyllabic words give her away, though. Diane is snarky and insufferable when not handled with the greatest of tranquility, and adorable and sweet when she wants something. Sandra is the oldest, and is practical and maternal and overweight. She prefers beer and has the greatest capacity for it. Natalie is Laura's twin sister. They are very nearly identical. Or, to put it another way, they are not identical. Natalie is a little quieter, that's it. The four study at opposite ends of the country now, but just for tonight and a few more days they're all back in town, and painting it.

Iris's neon sign casts neon light over the frankly preposterous queue outside the establishment's front door. Every step closer reveals more people in this line. "It never ends!" Sandra says. "We're going to be waiting until Christmas."

"How much is it to get in?" asks Laura.

"Five fifty," say two others simultaneously.

Laura rummages through her purse. "I need to stop and get cash again."

"What did you get last time?" asks Diane. "A fiver? Did you find excuse me the only cash machine in this city which dispenses single fivers?"

"I'll cover you," says Natalie. "You can buy me a drink once we're inside."

"No no no. I can't, I don't have cash."

"Well then use a card!"

"I okay, why are we going to Iris anyway? It's crap and you can't see anything and it's so expensive. It's so expensive."

Sandra: "Because the music's good, and dancing, and it's Diane's friend's first day behind the bar so he can get us a discount."

"Well, I don't even know him, and I hate Iris anyway."

"Overruled!" Laura is dragged forward by several limbs.

"If overruled I will not queue! If if dragged in I will not pay! If someone covers me to get in I will not drink and if someone buys me a drink I will still not drink. Seriously, I'm trying to hey keep a cap on my entertainment budget. It was one cash machine visit per outing, no cards"

"Come on!"

"Oh, come on, it's only" Natalie turns around and looks at the big clock overlooking the square. "One. Five to."

"There's a night bus at one. I'm going to try to get the night bus at one. I'm going. Take care!" There are some hurried hugs, but Laura manages to extricate herself and hobble off within a few moments.

Crossing the Square takes a little while because her shoes were made for looking good at the expense of comfort, convenience, durability, mobility, price and so on. Her boyfriend never wants to know how much they cost, and yet, like a car crash or gripping slasher flick, can't look away when she reveals the hideous truth each time. (Where is he now? In another city, staying with his family for Christmas. Probably drunk out of his skull with his mates at their local, or, by this time, in bed with half of a sloppy, cooling pizza from the Exchange, taking a good run-up for tomorrow's hangover.)

It's sixty seconds to one and she has a long zig and then zag to take to get to the top of the hill where the bus stops are, but there is thankfully a shortcut, a narrow and steeply-stepped (but usually quite well-lit and friendly) alley which cuts off the corner of the triangle, so she takes that instead. It's well-lit because the Slouch is halfway along it and usually completely filled with people. Of course, she remembers a little too late, the Slouch got closed down a couple of weeks ago because some stupid woman took drugs and almost died on their property. It'll be back, but there are legal proceedings. In the meantime, for the moment, this is quite a dark and empty passage.

A couple of men come around the corner and start coming down the steps. "'Scuse me!" she chirps, moving to slide past them on the side. They don't move. How irritating. One of them reaches into his jacket. The other already has both of his hands free.

"Her," she hears a third man utter some yards behind her.

Oh shit.

It would be nice to say that all the alcohol in Laura Ferno's system leaves her at this point and she gains laserlike, crystalline clarity and the following happens in slow motion. But, though armed, she is drunk off her face.

A momentary pause to elaborate on what she's wearing. The key word here is "rings". The high-heeled, high-impracticality shoes have been touched upon already. The black leggings, black skirt and black top are inconsequential. Resting comfortably around her neck, though, is a very fine silver necklace made from thirty-seven components, each a unique three-dimensional elongated silver shape linked to the next with wire; this is much more significant. Decorating her ears are large silver earrings in equally complex shapes. Around her left wrist are four silver bangles and one golden bangle, all slightly different sizes, each custom-made by a different craftsperson, but engraved with the same complicated repeating and interlocking design, reminiscent of Korean text but illegible in any human language. These five are independent, but amplify each other. Around her right wrist are three more bangles, these ones relatively commonplace items bought "off the shelf", albeit a specialist and extremely expensive and obscure shelf. These three interlock and (in ways which may become apparent) interact with one another in useful ways. On her left index finger, left thumb and left middle finger, three smaller rings with similar designs which control the bangles on her right hand. On her left ring finger, nothing (but ah, one day). On her right index finger, no rings, but an intricate tattooed design circling the base of the finger where a ring would sit.

That covers everything not concealed in her purse. The three thugs no, four thugs aren't mages. They haven't realised that Laura Ferno is bristling with openly-carried thaumic weaponry. Even with just the tattoo this would have been a bad idea.