Arcadia Falls

by Kai Meyer

  “No. A couple of the decks have been sealed off. Anyone who gets in there doesn’t come out again. It’s better that way for everyone.”

  The comings and goings in these corridors were a strange sight. A number of the hybrids wore clothes that disguised them, while others openly displayed their deformities. Most of them were more human than animal, but not all. There were big cats who went on all fours, but had no fur; foxes with forelegs ending in hands; a bear with a human face.

  “Over there,” said Alessandro. “Harpies.”

  Rosa saw three children with naked torsos. Behind them, they had wings without feathers dragging uselessly along the floor. The wings resembled wrecked umbrellas: bony spokes with pink flaps of skin stretched between them.

  “Suicides are a problem,” Danai admitted. “Not all of them here can come to terms with their fate.”

  Ahead of them, a little girl in a grubby jogging suit was doing gymnastic exercises in the corridor. She turned a cartwheel, landed crouching in front of Danai, and licked her outstretched hand with a dog’s pink tongue. Mirella let the child do as she liked for a moment, and only when Danai gave her a sign did she push her aside. The little girl growled at Alessandro as he passed her.

  At the end of the corridor they came to a steel bulkhead. Danai unlocked it with a number code. Before opening it to the passage beyond, she gave Rosa and Alessandro a smile. “It gets prettier now.”

  They entered a wood-paneled hall with old-fashioned chandeliers, and candles standing on neatly laid tables. There was a glass wall with a view into the broad light-shaft that they had seen from the helicopter, and of the green jungle at the heart of the Stabat Mater. A Plexiglas balustrade ran around the outside of the huge pane.

  “There’s going to be a dinner for the first-class passengers here this evening,” Danai explained, as they passed the empty tables.

  Next they walked down corridors with solidly made saloons opening off them. Hybrids sat in armchairs or on sofas, reading, playing Scrabble and backgammon, or talking quietly. A good-looking man in a suit was in conversation with a leopard woman. He turned his profile to them, and as they passed he looked around at them. The left side of his face was that of a moray eel.

  Not all the hybrids, however, were ugly or grotesque. Many were covered with fine, silky down; others had brightly colored plumage instead of hair on their heads. A young man was sitting at a grand piano, playing a sonata so melancholy that it went to Rosa’s heart. His face was covered with scales shimmering in all colors of the rainbow.

  Once again they reached an elevator, this time with wood-paneled doors. Danai used a key to activate it. “This one is safe,” she said, when she saw Alessandro wrinkling his brow.

  At every deck they passed during the ride down, the background noises outside the elevator door changed. Once they heard terrible roaring, then the sound of an orchestral rehearsal, finally a voice reciting a poem. Only when the elevator came to a halt did silence reign again.

  “Here we are,” said Danai.

  Mirella tensed her body. The two shell-plated hybrids had not made a sound for a long time. The smell of sweat spread through the elevator.

  They entered a corridor with gray metal walls. There was a pungent smell of mixed disinfectant and the odors of long sickness in the air. Mirella’s disfigured skin looked grayer than ever. Her two companions hunched their heads farther down between their shoulders.

  Two guards stood in front of a door. They reminded Rosa of Danai’s bodyguards in the Dream Room: bald-headed lunks with headsets and black overalls. No visible sign that they were hybrids.

  Apologizing to her guests, Danai went through the door and signed to Mirella to go with her. “Wait here,” she told Rosa and Alessandro. “We won’t be long.”

  Before the door closed, Rosa caught a glimpse of the room inside. White walls, glass-fronted cupboards, machines with flashing lights. The impression of a figure on a bed.

  The insect hybrids were standing in front of the opposite wall of the corridor. They and the guards at the door never took their eyes off one another. No one spoke.

  Danai’s soft, girlish voice could be heard beyond the door, and then Mirella’s sharper tones. Rosa could catch only scraps of the conversation. The hybrid was reporting on the incidents in the railroad tunnel.

  A little later, Mirella came back into the corridor and beckoned to them. “He’ll see you now.” She stayed outside while Rosa and Alessandro entered the room.

  Someone had tried to equip the sickroom as luxuriously as possible, but that merely emphasized the fact that this was no place where you would take up residence voluntarily.

  Danai was standing beside the bed, her hoop skirt pressed against its frame so that she could be as close to the man on the pillows as possible. She was holding his hand, while a nurse sat in front of a row of touch screens, obviously programming infusions. A long cat’s tail hung down under the skirt of her white uniform, the end of it dangling a hand’s breadth above the floor.

  Whole bundles of tubes led from bags of fluids to the bed, and disappeared under the covers.

  The old man scrutinized the two young people. His alert gaze was in stark contrast to the rest of his appearance. The white coverlet was drawn high up on his chest, his bony limbs stood out in sharp outline under it. He did not seem to be an Arachnid like his daughter.

  Without speaking to the visitors, he signaled to the nurse. She left the computers and turned back the coverlet. Rosa instinctively held her breath, but when she did breathe in again, she could smell only chemicals.

  “I am not a hybrid,” he said, in perfect Italian. “Isn’t that what you were wondering?”

  “You certainly owe us some explanations,” said Alessandro, “but that one’s not high on the list.”

  Thanassis gave him a benevolent smile. The old man looked as if he had undergone all kinds of cosmetic surgery many years ago, and the effect of those operations had long since reversed itself. He had wrinkles in the wrong places, there were visible scars just below his hairline, signs that his skin had been tightened and fallen in again. Maybe he had once set great store by his appearance, but that was over now. Just as life on board the Stabat Mater had also lapsed into disorder.

  “I’ve heard about you two.” He signed to the nurse, and she covered him up again. Danai, motionless, was holding his hand. “In fact, it is difficult not to hear about you these days.”

  “Not by our choosing,” said Rosa.

  “Are you aware that the police now doubt whether you were guilty of the judge’s death? Of course they’re still looking for you, but there are forensic experts whose opinion is that Quattrini was killed by an animal. There’s talk of traces of DNA that’s definitely nonhuman, quite apart from the nature of the wounds inflicted.”

  They exchanged a glance. For the moment, that made no difference to their situation.

  “But never mind that,” said Thanassis. “Today I find talking more of a strain than I like, so let’s not waste time. Ask me your questions.”

  “Why did you have us brought here?”

  “First, I was curious about you. And secondly, I need your help.”

  Rosa laughed quietly. “Our help?”

  “In a certain way, yes.” A fit of coughing interrupted him. One of the countless instruments beside the bed beeped harder, but then calmed down again. “The Arcadian dynasties are in a state of flux. Much is happening that is not good, but significant. The Hungry Man left prison days ago and is back in Sicily. The Harpies would have handed you over to him if you hadn’t killed them. We know what happened. But the death of the two Malandra sisters complicated matters, both for you and for him. He is an old man, like me, and his experience with young Arcadians is long in the past. Back then there was no resistance to his decisions, no one openly opposed them. He underestimated you when he set the sisters on you. However, it is extremely reassuring that he made his first serious mistake so soon after seizing power again.”


  “Are the clans really all behind him?” asked Alessandro.

  “A great many of them are. It was easier for them to reject the Hungry Man when he was still behind bars. But now that he is back, capo after capo is ready to pay him homage. Some who refused have died unpleasant deaths in the last two days. The search for you two isn’t all that he has on his mind just now. He aims to renew his old power on a comprehensive scale, and he is exerting his influence to that end, far beyond Sicily itself.”

  Rosa glanced at Danai, who never once took her eyes off her father. Her chest rose and fell slightly, in a rhythmical movement that looked strange above that monster of a dress.

  “I’ve never understood,” said Rosa, “why everything is supposed to have been so much better in the old days. What exactly was better? I’m an Arcadian, but the mere idea of eating human flesh . . . I mean, I’m a vegetarian!”

  With a smile, Thanassis looked from her to Alessandro. “And how about you, as one of the Panthera? What do you feel about the idea of hunting humans and tearing them to pieces?”

  Alessandro said nothing for a moment, avoiding Rosa’s eyes. Then he shook his head. “It’s not about nourishment. It’s about showing who’s stronger.”

  “But that’s not an instinct known only to animals,” said Thanassis. “Didn’t you yourself do your utmost to become capo of the Carnevares?”

  “And one of the richest men in the world blames me for that?”

  “I’m not blaming you. I dreamed for years of controlling shipping in the seas all over the world. And for a while I did. You don’t have to be an Arcadian to have ambitious aims. But the Hungry Man is not concerned with wealth, he wants to subjugate an entire species. There’s blindness and maybe insanity in that. But above all a desire for retribution. It was human beings who put him behind bars thirty years ago, and he wants humans to pay for it. However, revenge is a petty and narrow-minded motive. It brings only a moment’s satisfaction, like eating a piece of chocolate. Anticipation often makes one happier than the act itself. Did you feel happy when you killed Cesare Carnevare? Or was there only the sense of a great void after you had done it?”

  Rosa took Alessandro’s hand. His fingers were cold.

  “The Hungry Man knows how fleeting that moment of happiness is,” said Thanassis. “That’s why he is simply extending his desire for retribution to the entire human race. He hopes for a triumph lasting years, decades, and he’s ready to stake everything on getting it.”

  Alessandro looked as if he were about to object, but Rosa stopped him. “He’s telling the truth,” she whispered. “I’ve met the Hungry Man. I’ve—” She had been going to add, I’ve looked into his eyes, but that wasn’t so. In all the time she had spent talking to him, she had not once seen his face. Yet all the same, she thought that what Thanassis said was true.

  “You mean he thinks humanity as a whole should pay for betraying him?” asked Alessandro.

  “Exactly right.” Thanassis signed to the nurse again. She touched a screen, and at once two fluids mingled in one of the containers to drip through a tube into the old man’s body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “There’s only one problem. Human beings are no longer lambs who’ll let themselves be led to the slaughter. That may have been different in the age of classical antiquity, when no one thought it unusual for people to fall victim to a werewolf or a giant snake. But today? How long will it be before all the nations of the world are up in arms against anyone who seems even remotely like an Arcadian? The dynasties now face the threat of extermination. Give humanity a reason to be afraid, and it will try to eradicate that reason root and branch. At the moment human beings fear epidemic sickness or terrorism. But if the dynasties drop their masks they’ll provide a perfect target, and you will see Arcadians burnt at the stake again.”

  A warning signal sounded as his heartbeat speeded up. His daughter reassuringly caressed the back of his hand, which was freckled with age spots.

  “Danai and all the others like her will be the first to be crushed between the opposing forces,” he went on. “What we’ve built up here, a refuge for all who are different, won’t withstand them for long. At the moment we can stay in hiding because no one is looking for us. But if it comes to open war between Arcadians and the human race, then people will start to take an interest in us again, and find us. In fact I am afraid they will find us very quickly.”

  “What are you planning?” asked Alessandro.

  “Arcadians are to blame for the fact that hybrids like my daughter must live like outcasts. And even worse, because some of the dynasties work in secret with TABULA, more hybrids are still being produced in their experimental stations. Only a few of the passengers on board this ship were born naturally as hybrids, or became hybrids by some whim of fate—far more of them were bred by TABULA. We liberated some of them, while others managed to escape and made their own way to us. But those are only tiny moments of success. Not until there are no Arcadian dynasties left will TABULA also lose its justification for existence.”

  Did he know that Rosa’s grandmother had handed Arcadians over to TABULA? And that her father, who she had thought dead for years, was working for that secret organization under the name Apollonio? In a flash, she saw images before her eyes again, the video images of her rape by Tano and Michele. Saw her father standing beside those two and telling them what to do.

  Alessandro stepped impatiently from foot to foot. “Then you want to oppose the Hungry Man and the dynasties in order to destroy TABULA at the same time?”

  “I want to do them all the harm I can,” agreed Thanassis. “Can I really destroy them? Maybe in the long term, but it won’t be done overnight. It’s possible to kill the Hungry Man. But TABULA is a many-headed monster. I can try to deprive it of nourishment and hope that will be the end of it. And that may be enough, who knows?”

  “You said you need our help,” Rosa interrupted. “What did you mean by that?”

  Thanassis looked up at his daughter, who slowly shook her head. “You don’t know? Are you clueless about your importance to the Hungry Man?”

  There was a menacing vibration in Alessandro’s voice. “What importance?”

  “Does it have to do with the statues?” asked Rosa. “We saw them. We went diving there ourselves to find them. And then your people came along and snapped them up from under our noses.”

  Thanassis smiled. “Very possible.”

  “What did you mean about our importance?” asked Alessandro again, and this time the note in his voice made Danai put her left hand out to an alarm button beside the bed.

  Thanassis was unimpressed. “Has no one really ever told you about the downfall of Arcadia and what brought it on?”

  “Lamias overthrew King Lycaon,” said Rosa. “But that was thousands of years ago. What does it matter today?”

  “The Lamias overthrew him to raise themselves to be rulers of Arcadia,” said Thanassis, with an exhausted nod, “while the Panthera did their utmost to oppose them. Your ancestors waged a bitter war with one another after the rebellion against Lycaon. The Panthera were on his side, and still are. That’s why the Carnevares were the first to declare their support for the Hungry Man when he claimed to be the reincarnation of Lycaon—not just a descendant, but the King of Arcadia in person.”

  “But in the end he held us responsible for his arrest,” Alessandro objected. “He thinks my family are traitors.”

  “So,” said the old man, “did they betray him?”

  “No,” said Rosa. “It was my grandmother who handed him over to the state prosecutor’s office. Costanza Alcantara. She and Salvatore Pantaleone, who then succeeded him as capo dei capi.”

  Thanassis pricked up his ears. “Costanza?”

  “You knew her?”

  “Your grandmother was a powerful woman. I met her a few times at various official occasions. It’s possible that one of my companies did business with her.”

  Something in his tone of voice roused her suspici
on. He was holding things back, fobbing her off with fragments.

  But just as she was about to demand that he explain himself, he said, “It’s high time for you two to learn more about what happened in Arcadia. About your ancestors. And about the concordat.”

  THE ANGER OF THE GODS

  “LYCAON WAS A CRUEL monarch, worse than even the worst of the Roman emperors,” said Thanassis, as more medication was pumped into his body through the tubes. “He was a tyrant of the most atrocious kind, and when the Lamias finally overthrew him I imagine no one was particularly sorry. It’s said that Lycaon was cut into four quarters, and his remains were thrown into the sea off all the coasts of Arcadia. Although I think it more likely that someone simply smashed his skull in, and his corpse ended up on the nearest bonfire.

  “But whatever happened, Lycaon was dead and the Lamias claimed the throne for themselves. However, the Panthera had always been his allies, and their power was closely bound up with his. It was clear to them that they would lose their privileges once Lycaon’s enemies had taken leadership by force. So they accused the Lamias of high treason, claimed his estate as their own, and declared themselves his legitimate heirs. What had begun as a kind of quarrel over the inheritance soon became wildfire devastating the whole of Arcadia. It led to a terrible civil war that went on for decades. It was almost the end of Arcadia. Towns, villages, even the most remote parts of the countryside were laid to waste, their inhabitants butchered.

  “In the end neither side won; the victor was common sense. It was generally acknowledged that if the bloodshed went on, nothing and no one would be left. The survivors of the war, we are told, turned to the gods and begged them to settle the conflict. Good advice from on high was not long in coming.

  “First, the gods ordered the Arcadians to work together to build a monumental tomb in honor of the dead Lycaon. The task was intended to unite the warring groups. And it seems to have worked, since once the mausoleum was built, the next step followed. It was decided that the Lamias and the Panthera, the leaders of the two sides in the war, were to share in ruling the kingdom. There was not to be a single king, but a tribunal consisting of members of both dynasties. They would work together to rebuild the ruined cities and lead the kingdom of Arcadia to new prosperity.