After a further few minutes they began to swim through the clouds into water hazy with outflow. Further nozzles added to the murk. Now Gholequie switched on beams attached to her other wrist. Smiling broadly, she indicated that the end was close. Manserphine’s relief was considerable.
A few more sections passed where the roof showed distant circles of light, and then they entered a tunnel six yards across, full of softpetal streams. A perceptible current swept them along.
Gholequie waved her arms about until five mermaids swam through the clouds ahead. Now Manserphine heard a different tone to the thumping of before, and she knew it was the sea. She swam out of the mouth of the tunnel and saw a glow above her—the evening sky.
They ascended ten feet or so to the ocean surface. Gholequie ripped off the mask and Manserphine found herself breathing as if she had run a mile, gasping almost, as the oxygen levels in her body readjusted to a natural balance. They trod water, splashing and laughing. The shore lay a few hundred yards away. Strange buoys like twisted bushes floated around them, where softpetal had self-organised into symbolic shapes.
Slowly they swam to shore. They had emerged west of the Shrine of the Sea, which lay out of sight behind the rocky side of the estuary, but not so far that Aequalaïs had been left behind. On the shore scores of mermaids and mermen lay, taking in the evening breeze, flapping their variously altered feet and legs and crunching sea vegetables.
Manserphine was welcomed with cheers and hugs. Despite the warmth of her reception she shivered, until a blanket was brought, which she gratefully wrapped herself in. Gholequie and three mermaids led her aside to lie at her ease, on matresses made of kelp fabric stuffed with dead leaves. Gholequie introduced the trio. “These are your second cousins Zeamaysse and Gianflamah, and this is Suracunah’s bereft sister, your other cousin, Abvoloyns.”
Abvoloyns seemed upset as she asked Manserphine, “Do you know anything of the tale of your family?”
“No.”
“You must have heard about your great-grandmother.”
“Yes,” admitted Manserphine, “but only that she was abducted into the Shrine of the Sea.”
“There to partner the great Sea-Cleric Trseq, with whom she had children. You are directly descended from them.”
“And my mother?”
Abvoloyns hesitated, then said, “Your great-grandmother Omossecune was of mermaid stock. She tried to live on land, but failed, and in the end was seduced by the power and vision of the Sea-Clerics. We think your mother had much mermaid blood in her, for the sea lust drove her wild. She is drowned.”
“I knew so.”
Abvoloyns shook her head, then said, “She loved the sea.”
“I had wondered from where my sea longing came.”
“Oh, no,” Gholequie said, “not from your heritage, but from the link with your cousin Suracunah, trapped in the softpetal pool. But recently you left our perceptions.”
“I became greater than I was,” Manserphine replied.
Abvoloyns began to say, “The flower crash—”
“You know of it?” Manserphine wondered if it was now common knowledge.
Abvoloyns indicated the outflow zone from which they had swum. “Mermaids with the gift for sensing future networks usually find themselves hindered by the high concentration of softpetal in the water, but occasionally, if the normal interference has a positive effect, they are helped. Many of us drift out there waiting for good dreams, trying to ignore the nausea of interference. In such a way I myself felt you depart us after the Cemetery incident—”
“You know about that too?”
Abvoloyns replied, “I saw something of it in a vision. But the flower crash is too important to ignore. It is but days away, as you probably know.”
“Well, yes,” Manserphine murmured.
“The Sea-Clerics have made a selfish interpretation of it, and this is why they are preparing for action. A great hardpetal reef has sprung up in the sea, in a bow around the estuary, so that it lies just a few feet below the surface. There are ships and boats everywhere. All this bodes ill for Zaïdmouth.”
Thinking of this reef, Manserphine realised why the Sea-Clerics had stolen hardpetal data from the Shrine of Flower Sculpture. She said, “What is this bad interpretation of the Sea-Clerics?”
“They have been trying to engineer sea plants with flowers, in an attempt to pervert the course of the flower crash to one suited to their oceanic vision.”
Manserphine nodded. “Now I have proof that Baigurgône is not based in the Shrine of the Sea.” She shrugged. “I suppose I should be glad I know that, but I’m not.”
“The Sea-Clerics have to be stopped.”
Manserphine gave a single laugh. “Easier said than done. I have seen their philosophy of life in action, and it makes me think they will fight like barbarians.”
“Probably true. So you must be both wily and careful.”
“Me?”
Gholequie interrupted again. “The cause for which you work is a true and good cause. We mermaids have seen a little of it. But you alone have reached the ability necessary for true interpretation of future network possibilities. You must follow the course you believe with your heart to be correct.”
Abvoloyns agreed. “There is nobody like you. You have the vision of Omossecune, the emotional depth of your mother, the virtuosity of a maverick. You are one agent of change in the future.”
Manserphine felt tears well up into her eyes as she heard this. She said, “You are very kind, but I wonder how accurate you are.”
“We don’t know. Perhaps it is for you to find out.”
Manserphine was silent for a moment. The evening glow had departed the sky to leave starry heavens, and to these she stared, lying on her back and listening to the chatter of mermaids and mermen. Eventually she said, “The Sea-Clerics will discover tomorrow morning that I have gone.”
“They will be delayed by uncertainty. They know little of the true complexity of the underwater tunnels made by the early Sea-Clerics, thinking them unconnected drainage pipes and the like. They may consider you drowned. Go in the morning to Veneris, there to take up your life. Gianflamah has seen a brief vision of the Garden under piles of sand. I have seen two shining warriors in the Garden. These futures may not come to pass, or they may happen tomorrow.”
“The Garden is in danger?” Manserphine considered the possibility, then answered her own question. “If the Sea-Clerics want to change Zaïdmouth they will certainly start with the Garden. And I remember now that Fnfayrq unexpectedly came to the first session of spring. At the time I thought it suspicious.”
“That is motivation enough to hasten your return to Veneris,” Abvoloyns said. “Sleep here tonight, then leave at dawn.”
“I’ll try,” Manserphine replied.
She did not sleep until two hours before dawn, and at dawn she was woken by Gholequie, shaking her shoulder. “Time to leave.”
They followed a winding path set between low hills to the west of the autohives, invisible to all in Aequalaïs, ending in a valley west of the Shrine of Root Sculpture. “You’ll know your own way from there,” Gholequie said. “Don’t forget us, second cousin. We can help if need be. We’re family.”
“I’ll never forget you,” Manserphine assured them, before she hugged them all in turn. Abvoloyns gave her a blue cloak, a long shirt and a pair of sandals, and Gholequie returned her hat. Waving goodbye, Manserphine turned and began walking north.
~
The hour’s journey was uneventful. In western Veneris she marvelled at the number of hoverflies, but she saw nothing of other insects, no butterflies, few bees, and there were roses everywhere, their cloying scent making her choke. Where were the orchids, the iris, all the other myriad of flower species?
She had been absent for half a season. A monoculture had formed. Diversity was approaching zero. What state would the Shrine of Our Sister Crone be in?
Not a good state. She walked through a sid
e entrance to avoid crowds, but almost immediately bumped into Teshazan, the Sister Cleric, who, having almost fainted with shock, bundled her along private corridors to Curulialci’s chamber. Manserphine answered none of Teshazan’s questions.
Inside the chamber Curulialci stared at her as if she was a revenant, before asking in a hushed voice, “Where have you been? Is it you?”
“It is me. I’m back. The Sea-Clerics abducted me, but I escaped last night. I walked back along an old green lane this morning.”
“Thanks be to Our Sister Crone! We have endured a nightmare here.”
“The Garden?” queried Manserphine.
“It is safe. The Sea-Clerics have given up their attack—”
“Not for long,” Manserphine interrupted.
“That’s as maybe. They tried to undermine the Garden by readjusting the metaphors of its existence. Without Shônsair and Zoahnône we wouldn’t—”
“Zoahnône? Shônsair?”
“Quiet, Manserphine! Let me tell the tale. Without those two, Zaïdmouth would now be under the thraldom of the Shrine of the Sea. We have had a narrow escape.”
“But what did they do?” Manserphine asked. “Shônsair is the sworn enemy of Zoahnône.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the case now. Through their intimate knowledge of the networks they replanted the Garden with flowering plants, removed the salt from the water, changed the direction of certain streams and cleansed the soil. They have added defences too, in the form of botanic sentinels called dryads.” Curulialci paused, then said, “But you. What happened to you?”
Manserphine related her ordeal, missing out those parts personal to herself and her visions. Yamagyny entered the chamber, and then she had to repeat the story.
Eventually Curulialci said, “We are glad to have you back. However the Garden is out of session until the emergency is over. You say there is more to come? Did you see anything of the Sea-Clerics preparations?”
Carefully, Manserphine replied, “Not from my cell, no. But their harbour is full of ships. And there is a strange new reef enclosing the outreach of the river, the purpose of which is unknown.”
“What is your advice?” Yamagyny asked.
“Keep the Shrine under surveillance. I must remain hidden for a while, at least until the Garden is publically reconvened. I may have to keep a low profile.” Thinking of Kirifaïfra and her room at the Determinate Inn she added, “Don’t be surprised if I leave occasionally for nocturnal walks.”
“Yes, yes, we quite understand,” Curulialci said. “You’ve had a terrifying experience.”
Manserphine concluded, “My visions were correct both in substance and metaphor. I want to rest awhile and recover from my abduction, and perhaps foresee a little of what the Sea-Clerics might do next.”
“Do you have any idea?” Curulialci asked.
“None,” Manserphine truthfully replied.
“Hmm. Well, we shall have our network agents train their screens at Aequalaïs.”
With that, Manserphine bade them good morning and departed for her own chamber, where she hastily packed a few belongings, then left the Shrine.
The Determinate Inn was close. Now she was free she felt longing well up inside her for Kirifaïfra’s company. She hoped he was in.
Nephew and uncle both sat in the common room. She burst through the door and lunged for Kirifaïfra, who almost collapsed against the table from the force of her welcome. For some breathless seconds they hugged, until Kirifaïfra disengaged himself and said, “Where have you been?”
“Abducted by the Sea-Clerics.”
He hugged her close. “You’re back now, and that’s what matters. Unc, some whiskey, and quickly!”
Vishilkaïr obliged. Manserphine said, “Did you miss me?”
“We knew you weren’t dead,” Vishilkaïr remarked.
“That’s right,” Kirifaïfra agreed, “though we had no idea where you were. What happened?”
“How could you know I was alive?”
“I just did. Now, drink your whiskey and tell us all.”
So Manserphine related her adventures for the third time. When she had finished, she said, “Have either of you seen Zoahnône in your back garden, looking for me?”
“Not recently,” Kirifaïfra said. He seemed to be looking at her shoulder, or over it, so Manserphine turned to look out of the bay window. “What?” she asked him.
“Nothing.”
Vishilkaïr said, “We saw Zoahnône a week ago, when the struggle in the Garden was at its height. Since then the pair have kept low.”
“The pair?”
“There is another one like Zoahnône,” Kirifaïfra said.
“I must find an orange snapdragon,” Manserphine said, wondering what could have happened while she was captured.
She made for the door. “Wait,” Kirifaïfra said, grabbing her hand, “are you staying here tonight?”
“Of course.”
“Good. Don’t be long, and take care.”
Manserphine ran back to the Shrine garden, where her snapdragon lay, wilting a little under the heat. Twenty two messages lay there. Quickly she scrolled through the most recent, before sending her own; a plea for Zoahnône to join her at the Determinate Inn. Nothing in the messages left by Zoahnône made much sense. The first described a mystical reunion between Shônsair and herself.
Back at the inn, Vishilkaïr waved her upstairs, then continued with his work. Manserphine and Kirifaïfra locked themselves in her room, where for an hour or more frantic passion took them, then laughter, and then tears of joy. They lay on the bed, naked in the heat of the late spring afternoon, basking in the pleasure of their reunion.
“Your oath may cause a problem,” said Kirifaïfra.
Manserphine sighed. “I can see now how absurd it is. But I won’t be forced to choose between work and passion. I shall have both. Now I’ve seen how the Sea-Clerics live, I know it’s a mad illusion to think that the two must be separated.”
“It is.”
“So you knew I was alive?” Manserphine said after a while.
“Never mind that, how could you possibly escape from the Shrine of the Sea? It’s a fortress.”
“Mermaids. My kin. They share my visionary ability.”
“Mermaids…” Kirifaïfra mused. “The sirens of Aequalaïs that we saw before.”
“Not so,” Manserphine chided. “They are a good people and they’re on our side. Some of them have cutting tongues, however.”
“How so?”
“They laughed at how thin I was.” Manserphine pulled a bolster over her torso, then said, “Oh, Kiri, why can’t I be fatter?”
“You will be,” he cooed, stroking her hair. “I expect the ocean diet has lost you some weight.”
“It hasn’t. They fed me well. I’ve always been thin, not like Curulialci and Yamagyny who’ve got a bit of weight to them.”
“You’re perfect as you are,” Kirifaïfra said, raising himself above her, then kissing her breasts. They coupled again and again, until the light of the setting sun illuminated their open window, and she was too exhausted for more. Lying stretched out on her back she gazed up into the sky, smelled the perfume of a hundred flowers and heard the buzzing of a thousand insects, and thanked her demiurge for the forthcoming summer pleasures she knew must be on the way. Kirifaïfra lay silent, half across her, also lost in hazy thoughts.
As evening became dusk, Vishilkaïr called from outside their door, “Zoahnône and Shônsair are here! Come along, lovebirds, wash yourselves and get some clothes on.”
Hastily they followed this advice, then clattered down the stairs to the common room, where Manserphine, her emotions still vivid and intense, ran at Zoahnône and embraced her with almost as much passion as with Kirifaïfra. Zoahnône stood awkwardly, unused to the gesture.
“Zoahnône!” Manserphine cried. “I’m glad to be back. There’s so much to tell you. The flower crash is just days away. Your creation is alive right now.
I almost caught her name, Zaha-something.” She looked at the figure at her side; black eyed, stern faced and very tall. Grim and gothic. This must be Shônsair: she recognised the face.
All five sat in the bay window, where Omdaton served them with a sweet-and-sour supper. Whiskey and vodka flowed freely while Manserphine explained her new understanding. Zoahnône was pleased to hear all this, but her serious manner told Manserphine an alternative story. “Much has changed,” she said. “Baigurgône has departed her body and entered the networks. She now wields immense power. Baigurgône will want to control events following the flower crash for her own reasons. As for my creation, the embodied gynoid… I cannot see how she can be alive today since my plans have not yet come to fruition. To this day, Shônsair and I have no final gestation method, let alone an actual being.”
“She is here,” Manserphine insisted. “I’ve seen her face so there is no doubt. There must be an explanation.”
Shônsair said, “There is one possibility. The flower crash and the conception and birth of a new species of gynoid might be related. We had not considered that before, but your news suggests the possibility.”
Zoahnône nodded in agreement, but remained cautious. “As yet we cannot be sure. We do not understand enough.” She turned to Shônsair to add, “Your idea means the networks themselves have already pursued my strategy.”
“It is not impossible,” said Shônsair. “Last year, the networks over-produced seeds in an attempt to survive. Suppose they have grasped hints of your plans?”
To this question the only answer was silence.
“How can we understand more?” Manserphine asked.
“I do not know,” Zoahnône softly replied.
~
One week later the Garden was reconvened. Manserphine entered it as Interpreter, making her first public appearance since the abduction, although rumours on the ground had told of her return to Veneris. Nine members appeared, to reflect on the closeness of the victory.
Then Fnfayrq appeared. Without a word she walked towards Manserphine and said, “A great storm crosses our sea, killing gulls, churning water, but the depths remain undisturbed.”
Flowercrash Page 27
