Nocturne

by Louise Cooper

  Esty was on her knees, still clinging to Indigo’s arm. They were in the heart of the fray, and with no ceremony Indigo dragged the girl across the cobbles at a run, ducking as a white owl with a twenty-foot wingspan hurtled past a handsbreadth away and swooped down on a cluster of fighting, boiling monsters. The wolves were in chaos, their quarry forgotten in the desperate fight against this new attack, and Indigo gained the shelter of a wall, slamming her back against the stonework and dragging breath into her lungs. Esty’s eyes had rolled up in their sockets and her breath was coming in great, agonized gasps; one rapid scan of the square told Indigo that they were perhaps twenty yards from the Apple Barrel, and she searched wildly about her for Forth, yelling his name.

  A shape broke from the roiling darkness, swerved as a tumbling tangle of three wolves, a bear and two Scatterers bowled across his path, and Forth came racing towards them. He slid to a halt, his eyes alight with a fever of excitement.

  “It worked! It worked!” He tried to hug Indigo but she pushed him back, knowing that they dared not delay even for a moment. “Get to the inn!” she shouted above the din of battle. “And help me with Esty, she’s—”

  “I’m all right!” Esty’s face was scarlet and slick with sweat, but she was recovering her wits and her strength. “Come on!”

  They ran for the tavern door, and burst through it together, the force of their bodies almost snapping it from its hinges.

  “Go upstairs!” Indigo propeled her companions before her as the door slammed at their backs. She heard the stampede of their feet as they obeyed, and Esty’s voice calling, “Da! Da!”; but instead of following them immediately she paused for a few seconds at the foot of the staircase, shutting her eyes and trying to gather her senses.

  They’d succeeded. The barrier was broken not only for her, but for Forth and Esty too. She’d gambled and won, and the relief of that knowledge was shattering. Now, they must…

  And the thought died as, through the pounding of her own pulse in her ears, Indigo realized that the terrible noises from the square outside were fading. She could still hear the howls, the shrieks, the shattering roars, but they seemed to be draining away like a stream going underground, fainter and fainter and—

  Silence. It was so acute that for a few moments it seemed to swell and beat in Indigo’s head as loudly as the din that had gone before. She turned her head, listening to it, wondering. Had the wolf-pack fled, with their own creations in pursuit? Or were they all destroyed? Or had the battle somehow been transferred into some other dimension? Curious, she half-made to move towards the door—then stopped as, from the square, a single, dismal howl rang out.

  A prickling shiver shot through Indigo’s torso and arms. She knew what the sound was. What it could only be. Slowly, she reached out and raised the door-latch, pulling the door open a few inches, and looked out.

  All traces of the fight had vanished. The square was dark, silent. But not quite empty. Alone in the center, her brindled muzzle raised to the featureless sky and her flanks still quivering from the cry she had uttered, stood Grimya.

  “Grimya!” Indigo felt a contricting rush of emotion and, careless of any danger, stepped out into the square. Grimya tensed instantly; her head swung round and Indigo saw the twin reflections of her eyes, like points of yellow fire in the gloom.

  “Grimya …” Indigo tried to link her own mind with the she-wolf’s, entreating her, wanting to give her love and comfort—

  Grimya snarled. With no phantom pack to support her the snarl was uncertain and born more of fear than aggression; but still Indigo felt the wave of red hatred that surged from Grimya’s mind in answer to her own plea. The she-wolf backed away, tail between her legs, still staring with that dreadful, insensate fixity. Then she howled again, a cry of utter defeat and misery, and turned, loping away into the shadows to vanish like a whipped cur.

  And left Indigo staring helplessly after her, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  •CHAPTER•XIX•

  “Well, then.” Stead put his hands on his hips and stared about him as though challenging anyone to argue with what he was about to say. “We go after it, and we kill it. That’s all there is to be said.” The frown that had made his face thunderous deepened, and he began to pace. “Demons, by the Harvest Mother’s eyes! I never thought I’d live to see such filth come to plague the lives of decent folk!”

  Forth glanced at Indigo, who sat on the window ledge a little apart from the rest of the group. Throughout the Brabazons’ noisy and emotional reunion she had stayed in the background, saying little while Stead and Forth and Esty had talked themselves to a standstill. That was understandable enough, for she must feel that she had little personal part to play in the family’s celebration; but Forth suspected that something more lay behind her silence. She was brooding; but he didn’t know what the cause of her mood could be, and didn’t know how to broach the subject to her.

  Besides, he had other demands on his attention. A great deal had happened since he and Indigo and Esty had burst through the door of the Apple Barrel and been reunited with Stead. At first everyone had been talking and laughing and crying at once, and for some time it had been impossible to make much sense of anything. But at last the atmosphere had sobered, and gradually they were able to piece together the salient facts of their position.

  That discussion had taken place over the first square meal the new arrivals had had since leaving the real Bruhome behind. Indigo’s theory concerning Stead’s innocence had been startlingly vindicated; when asked how he had survived during his travail he’d looked at them in surprise and said that he’d done what anyone short of a halfwit would do; drunk water from streams and pools along the way. True, there had been no food available on the black fells, but once he reached this empty town, naturally he’d found food and water aplenty in the tavern’s store-rooms, and since then he’d shifted very well. And when the store proved, indeed, to be well stocked with supplies that were both visible and edible to everyone, Forth had begun to realize just how potent a force his father’s unquestioning mind could be in this dimension. Without a moment’s doubt or hesitation, Stead had imposed his own reality on the unreal world; and the potential of that ability was awesome.

  But after the meal and the first wave of stories and revelations were done, they were faced with the last and hardest task of all. Stead staunchly believed that he was still in the real world, and that the black forest into which he and Chari and Grimya had stumbled, together with all its horrors and illusions, was some sorcerous creation that had been conjured out of the dark to surround Bruhome. He couldn’t—or wouldn’t—accept that this silent, empty town wasn’t Bruhome itself, still trapped in the unnatural night between the forest’s boundaries, and when Forth and Indigo tried to explain the truth to him, he argued vehemently with them. His theory, and he wasn’t about to be disabused of it, was that all the town’s inhabitants had finally been lured away by the evil influence which held the district in its grip. By a combination of good luck and grim determination, he and they had found their way back; but the others—including the rest of his children—were still lost and wandering somewhere in the depths of that vile forest.

  They had tried to reason with him, tried to make him comprehend the real truth, but Stead was obdurate. Theory had become firm fact in his mind, and he refused even to consider the logical flaws that contradicted his belief. Indigo had abruptly withdrawn from the argument, and Forth, too, eventually gave in when he realized that nothing of any value would be achieved.

  But there was one fact that Stead was ready and willing to accept. Like any native of the southwestern lands, Stead didn’t doubt the existence of demons. When—choosing his words carefully—Forth told him of their encounter with the being that held Bruhome in thrall, and of the challenge it had issued to them, the spark of indignation that had helped Stead to overcome his fear for so long suddenly kindled and blazed into furious anger. And Stead had only one reaction to such anger: t
o seek out the cause, and eradicate it.

  So, pacing the narrow room like a pent boarhound, he warmed to his theme. The demon would die. He would find it, and he would take it apart, with his bare hands if necessary. As his father ranted, Forth looked again at Indigo. She was watching Stead, but obliquely, as though barely listening. Forth wondered why she hadn’t yet spoken up about her plan, and wished that he could have been privy to her thoughts.

  Suddenly Stead stopped again. They could hear him breathing, sounding like a sweating horse in the confined space. Then he swung round.

  “Well? What are we all waiting for?” His gaze raked them, then settled on Chari’s still, silent form on her makeshift bed in the corner. “If we’re to save my Chari, we’ve got to destroy that thing before matters get any worse! We’ll set out back across the fells, find that three-times-accursed stronghold you told me of—”

  “No,” Indigo said quietly.

  Stead halted in mid-sentence. “What?” He looked taken aback, as though he’d forgotten she was there, but collected himself quickly. “What d’you mean, no?”

  Indigo slid off the ledge, flexing legs to ease a twinge of cramp. “Stead, there’s no point in our searching for the demon’s stronghold. We won’t find it; not unless the demon wants us to, and I don’t believe it does. We could comb those fells for eternity while it leads us a dance. I think we’d be better off staying exactly where we are.“

  “Where we are?” Stead echoed, incredulous. “Where’s the good in that?”

  Forth was trying to catch Indigo’s attention, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t want to acknowledge his surreptitious gestures. “I want to see the demon destroyed just as much as you do,” she said, “but we won’t succeed in destroying it by simply marching out like soldiers to a battle. We’ll need to be far more subtle than that.”

  Stead’s brows knitted. “How so?”

  “We won’t go in search of the demon. We’ll lure it here, in search of us. I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe it’s the surest way to achieve our ends.” Now her eyes did acknowledge Forth, but very briefly and with a warning not to interject. “I have an idea for a trap, Stead, and I’m confident that it will work.”

  Stead began at last to look interested. “What manner of trap?”

  A pause. Then Indigo said: “A full performance by the Brabazon Fairplayers.”

  The second pause was far longer than the first. Then Stead said: “Damn me, woman. What are you talking about?”

  Indigo caught Forth’s eye again, and this time the warning was emphasized by a quick, negating gesture of one hand. “Stead,” she said, “I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but I have a better idea of what we’re up against than you. I know the nature of our adversary, and I think—I think—that I also know how we might defeat it. What I’m going to say may sound mad to you; but I have to ask you to trust me.”

  “Lass, I trust you; you know I do.” Stead was perplexed. “But this … I don’t understand. What could one of our shows possibly have to do with this sorcery?”

  “Potentially, everything.” Indigo returned his intimidating gaze steadily. “In our shows, we aim to give our audience an illusion, and impose it over the reality of our lives. What I have in mind is to do exactly the opposite—to impose reality on a world of illusion.”

  Sharp intakes of breath from Forth and Esty told her that they understood. Well and good: but Stead’s frown had deepened. “Illusion?” he said tetchily. “Reality? What sort of high-flown nonsense is that?”

  Indigo shook her head gently. “It isn’t nonsense, Stead: at least, I pray to the Goddess that it isn’t. During our travels, Forth and Esty and I have learned a good deal about this world. Forgive me, but we’ve learned far more than you, and—”

  Forth could keep silent no longer, and cut in. “It’s true, Da! We know—everything in this world’s an illusion; it isn’t real-”

  Stead rounded on him. He was confused, and confusion gave rise to fear, and fear in turn gave rise to belligerence. “Be quiet, boy!” he growled. “What do you know about anything? Illusions, indeed! I’ve never heard the like of it!”

  Stung and insulted by such a cavalier dismissal Forth opened his mouth to retaliate, but Indigo intervened quickly, forestalling him.

  “Stead, I understand your feelings,” she said, and something in her voice made both Stead and Forth pause respectfully. “And I’m not going to even try to explain what I mean in words.” She hesitated. “You said a few minutes ago that you trust me. I ask you, then, not to question, but at least to give me the chance to prove my theory.”

  “Da, please listen to her!” Esty urged, jumping up and clutching at Stead’s arm. “There’s nothing you can lose.”

  Stead began to waver; but he wasn’t quite ready to capitulate. “I don’t understand,” he said, half-aggressive and half-pleading. “I don’t see how it can possibly help!” He turned, indicating the makeshift bed with one hand. “How can it help my Chari? How can it bring my other children back to me?”

  Indigo wetted her lips., “I can’t promise you anything, Stead. But I believe that if we follow my plan, we’ll break the demon’s power over her—and over everyone in Bruhome. Forth shares my belief, and so does Esty.” She glanced quickly at them; they both nodded emphatic confirmation. “And we need you, Stead, You’re the core of the Fairplayers; your role is vital. I want you—need you—to devise a show that will be the most spectacular that Bruhome’s ever seen!”

  Silence fell. Stead stared at Indigo, struggling to comprehend, to gain even a glimmer of what this bizarre request was all about: but understanding was beyond him. He looked in appeal to his son and daughter. They, too, were watching Indigo, but instead of sharing his bafflement, their faces reflected eager confidence: and abruptly Stead’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

  “All right.” He scrubbed at his chin with the fingers of one hand. “All right, lass; I’m not going to argue with you. Any of you.” His brows knitted briefly and he glared wound-edly at Forth and Esty. “If that’s what you want me to do, I suppose I’ll have to agree. Otherwise you’ll do it without me, won’t you?” He saw confirmation in their eyes. “Yes, I thought as much. And the Harvest Mother alone knows what manner of shambles you’d make of it. All right. I’m outnumbered, so I give in. But shrivel me if I don’t think you’ve all gone staring mad!”

  Indigo let out her breath in relief. Stead’s capitulation was unwilling, his agreement precarious, but she’d gained his promise to co-operate and for now that was sufficient.

  “Thank you,” she said warmly, and Esty concurred, leaning over to kiss her father’s cheek. Forth didn’t speak—he was still smarting with resentment from Stead’s earlier tongue-lashing—but he grudgingly nodded his head.

  “Well, then.” Stead folded his arms and looked bullishly at them each in turn. “No one can say Stead Brabazon does anything by halves.” Now his gaze settled on Indigo. “What sort of a show d’you want?”

  “The best we’ve ever done,” Indigo replied immediately.

  “With only four of us to perform it? That’s asking a lot. And how, might I ask, are we supposed to get back to the vans for our props and costumes, with those—” he indicated the square beyond the window with a sweep of one hand. “Those things out there?”

  “We won’t need to. Everything we’ll need is here in this room with us. Including as many performers as we want.”

  Stead’s expression changed. “What? Now look, woman—”

  Indigo interrupted him before his temper could explode. “Come to the window.” She’d hoped to avoid this gamble, at least for a while longer; but she saw now that the hope had been futile. Stead’s patience and willingness to be manipulated only extended so far. They’d effectively blackmailed him into going along with their scheme up to a point; but beyond that point his credibility was stretched too far and he dug in his heels. She dared not extend the velvet glove any longer, or the ground she’d gained so far would
be lost. Stead had to see the truth for himself.

  “Please, Stead. Do as I ask.” Her voice was steely. “Just this one last time.”

  For a tense moment Stead continued to glower at her. Then, slowly, he stepped forward. Indigo summoned all the willpower she could muster, praying silently that she hadn’t miscalculated, that it would work …

  “First, we need lights,” she said, and turned to the window.

  Below them in the square, six patches of flickering, pale orange illumination sprang into being. They were faint, unstable at yet; she concentrated harder, and suddenly the hazy glimmers became flames, leaping skyward from the tops of the flamboy-posts.

  Stead made an incoherent noise and jerked back. Indigo smiled reassuringly at him. “So, we have lights,” she said. “And now, a stage.”

  It was a perfect replica of the stage on which, an age ago it seemed, the Brabazon Fairplayers had performed at the Autumn Revels. The torchlight danced across the empty boards, casting shadows on the closed curtains; and more tiny torches burned in a line along the front of the platform.

  “And,” Indigo said, “we have all the costumes we need.”

  Eyes bulging with disbelief, Stead had turned to gape at her, struggling to give voice to the questions that tumbled through his stunned mind. She smiled at him again—and he found himself staring into the milky-gold eyes of a creature clad in all the greens of Spring, with hair the color of warm earth and a face more beautiful than anything human—

  “Ah!” Stead stumbled back, putting an arm up over his face as though to protect himself. Esty caught his other arm, steadying him—and an icy shock ran though Indigo as she realized what she’d done.