“But we are talking.”
“Yes.” She guided him along the corridor, towards the door through which she had appeared. “The glow you see is the side effect of a powerful charm designed to normalise our interactions. It's a gift to us from the handsome king, and it functions in a similar fashion to Hekau. For a minute or so, you and I—and anyone around us—can occupy the same time-stream. To you the flow of time seems continuous, but you will notice that I drop in and out in odd ways. To me, the reverse is true: I see you coming and going while the path of my life remains unbroken. That way the web of causality is tangled but never severed.” She smiled. “To us it seems as though you glow a beautiful gold colour.”
He struggled to get his head around this. “Does this mean you know what's in my future?”
“Yes. Those parts of your future that we have shared. And you know what's in mine. To you, our first meeting is what to me will be our last. Beginnings and endings are going to be very complicated between our peoples.”
“I can imagine.”
She smiled, but not with her eyes. “I have enjoyed sharing paths with you, Seth Castillo, although it has been difficult for both of us.”
He defied an incipient headache to ask, “Will you tell me what happens to me, then? Do I reach the Sisters? Do I go back to the First Realm?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“I—I'm not sure. What would happen if you told me? Would the world explode or something?”
“Nothing so dramatic. Things have a way of working themselves out, as you will see. The Sisters strive constantly to that end. They weave all the loose threads into a seamless tapestry. They are more important than any mere dei.”
“I doubt Yod would agree.”
“Ah, yes. That's something you have to look forwards to.” Her smile took on a more genuine note. “I feel the charm lessening. It is time we parted—but only temporarily. Knock once and go through the door. Don't look back; it'll only make things more complicated if you do. Be assured that I'm not leaving you yet.”
He nodded. She let go of his arm and headed for the ladder, which she proceeded to climb.
He knocked as instructed, and was told to enter by a voice that sounded suspiciously like the Immortal's. He pushed the door open.
Inside, seated on a cushion with several other Holy Immortals, below the massive rotating terminus of the skyship's central screw, was indeed Horva. He took a step into the room, tempted for a fleeting instant to turn around and look for the Horva behind him. He resisted the urge. At most he would see her climbing down the ladder—and what would that tell him?
Magic more subtle and complicated than any he had imagined was in effect around him. Nothing new there, he thought.
“Come in,” Horva said. “These are some of my companions among the Immortals.”
They were seated in a circle on the floor, and each nodded politely as he or she was named. They wore identical robes and all were hairless. Confronted by their combined green glow, he felt as though he was underwater. Their expressions were slightly embarrassed, as though he had walked in on an awkward conversation.
“Hello,” he said, taking a spare cushion when Horva indicated that he should sit. “You're all travelling backwards in time, I presume. So this, for you, is a farewell, while for me it's an introduction. Is that right?”
“Yes.” Avesta, one of the male monks inclined his head. “We haven't explained that to you yet, so Horva must be about to do so in our future, your past.”
“I'll certainly try to.” There was a gleam in Horva's eyes that looked suspiciously like tears. “You must be terribly confused, Seth. I'm sorry.”
“No,” he said. “It's not so bad. I'll get used to it.” He wondered what was going on, what had happened in Horva's past to penetrate her monkish façade. “You said that you know my future.”
“And you know mine. Again I ask you: would you tell me what lies ahead for me?”
He shrugged. Again?
There wasn't much to tell. “If you wanted me to, I would.”
“I prefer not to know, Seth. The present is enough to deal with.”
Another enigmatic flash of grief.
“I also asked you if you'd tell me, but you didn't answer,” Seth said.
“I will tell you as much as you can bear to hear.”
His heart beat a little faster at the thought. He could think of nothing better than knowing what lay ahead. How else could he prepare for it? But what would happen if he asked her and she told him that he would be turned into a ghost? Or killed? Or worse? Could he change what was going to happen, or was he locked into it regardless of whether he knew or not?
“Tell me if I make it to the Sisters.”
“You do,” she said.
“Do they give me what I want?”
“They do.”
Relief flooded him. “So everything goes back to normal.”
“No, it does not.”
He frowned, hooked by the apparent contradiction.
“What is ‘normal’?” asked the Immortal called Armaiti. “There is no base state to which reality tends. All is fluid. What we perceive as permanent is merely a persistent local trend, destined to meander.”
“As it was before I died, I meant,” said Seth in response, picking his words with care. He couldn't back away now; he needed to know more.
“That time lies in our future,” Horva reminded him. “We are yet to experience it.”
“The realms were separate. The Cataclysm hadn't happened. We turn it back, right?”
“You do not.”
“But that doesn't make sense. If we go to the Sisters and they do as we ask, then surely we stop Yod's plan in its tracks.”
“This may be so, Seth, but what has been done cannot be so easily undone.”
“But—”
The door opened with a bang behind him. Startled, he turned to look. Another Immortal stood in the doorway with a woman veiled from head to foot in black. The Immortal's aura was flickering, casting strange shadows over his features.
“Shathra, no.”
Seth turned back to Horva—she had spoken—and was stunned to see her weeping.
“I have no choice,” said the man. “If someone must take her, it should be me.”
Seth looked properly at him for the first time. He was handsome, in an ascetic way, with strong, angular features and broad ears. His expression was one of deep conflict and grief.
“If by leaving I forgo the grace of the king, then so be it. It'll be no great tragedy, compared to what I'll endure if you do not come with me. Horva, we have lost so much already. Must I now lose you, too?”
“My place is here,” she said, “at Maitreya's behest. You know that.”
“But you could be at my side. We could travel the skies together!”
“I know, my love, and I long for that more than ever.” Horva visibly pulled herself together. “I'm sorry. More sorry than words can contain. If you leave now, you leave without me.”
The green glow flickered alarmingly. Seth could feel the charm straining to hold the timelines together. He wondered what would happen if they tore like rope under too much stress.
Horva wept openly but silently. Shathra stared at her, a man gripped by unknowable conflict.
There was a flash. He blinked, and the man Horva had called Shathra was no longer in the doorway. There was only the woman in black. She hadn't moved throughout the confrontation between Horva and Shathra. Only now did she stir, taking a hesitant step forwards.
“Yes, come in,” said Shathra, who was now sitting in the circle of Holy Immortals, opposite Horva, his green aura steady. “Please, take a seat. I was just leaving.”
“No, Shathra,” said Horva. “This is absurd.”
“Is it? We're being used; that much is obvious to me. We're nothing more than puppets dancing at the Sisters’ whim. No offence,” he added as an aside to the woman in the doorway. “If that is so, then I must dance. S
omeone has to do it.”
“But what about us? What about all we have shared?”
Shathra's expression softened. “We are casualties of war. Dear Horva, did you really think we could be so deeply involved yet emerge unscathed?”
Horva's gaze dropped to her hands resting in her lap as Shathra rose to his feet. “Too much has changed,” he said, to all of his companions as well as her. “We must move on.”
Shathra walked to the door, his aura flickering.
“Seth.”
He glanced at Horva. Her eyes were bloodshot through the green glow. “What on Earth is going on?”
“You're going to ask me what happened in your future. Humans always do.” Her tone was surprisingly bitter. “You know now what happens in mine; you have seen me lose the one I love. Would you tell me about it, if I asked you to? Would you cast the shadow of Shathra's departure over what moments I have left with him?”
He didn't know what to say. He didn't really understand the situation, apart from the obvious—that emotions ran deep between the two Immortals and that they were about to be parted. Shathra's departure in his past was now in her future. He probably wouldn't want to tell her that it would happen like that: it would feel cruel to do so, almost deliberately malicious, no matter how much she protested that she wanted or needed to know.
But that seemed completely different to the issues he needed to know about: the Cataclysm, the betrayer, his fate.
“I wouldn't tell her,” said the woman in the doorway. “Let her be blindly happy while she can. It won't hurt as long, that way. It'll be like pulling off a Band-Aid.”
Seth was frozen in his seat. The woman's voice shot through him like a jolt of electricity.
“Do you really think so? Well, maybe you're right.” Horva turned her pain-filled gaze away from Seth and indicated that the woman should take a cushion. “Why don't you join us?”
“No,” he said. “You can't be.”
“Hello, Seth.” The veiled woman didn't move from the door. “You've changed since I last saw you. No knife, for a start; no blood; and—”
“Ellis?” His brain seized as suspicion became certainty. “But you—you're—”
“Dead, yes.”
“No—I mean, yes; of course you are. You must be, if you're here.” He struggled to deal with a train wreck of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Surprise, relief, and concern warred for dominance. “But how can that be? I saw you—in the First Realm, alive.”
“When?”
“Just hours ago.”
“It can't have been me. I died days ago.”
He took a deep breath, aware that he was on the verge of babbling. The ramifications of her presence were enormous, on many levels.
“If you're dead,” he said, “then who's that in the First Realm with Hadrian?”
“Let me tell you what intemperate love is, that insanity and frenzy of mind: a constant burning, never extinguished; a great hunger, never defined; a wonderful, sugary, sweet mistake, a dulcet evil, ill and blind.”
Hadrian shivered, remembering the ancient lyrics he and his brother had rewritten at university. Why they came to him now, he didn't know. The sun had set an hour or so ago, and he was in no hurry to move. With Ellis asleep beside him and no immediate threat in his vicinity, why would he? Only the cold bothered him. It was in his bones, having crept there while he slept. He hoped he wasn't coming down with something, although it wouldn't surprise him at all, given everything he had been through.
Outside the furniture showroom, the city and its new inhabitants were gearing up for a busy night. The distant rumbling that had become such a familiar part of the background ambience grew louder, punctuated by faint booms and crashes. It sounded like whole buildings were coming down. Occasional screams echoed through the streets, followed by ghastly shrieks and moans. Some sounds were too low to be heard, and instead swept physically through him, like a cold premonition. His fillings buzzed in his mouth.
Ellis slept through it all. He lay as close to her as he dared, wary of disturbing her. She must have been exhausted. Alone and frightened as humanity was wiped from the city, then captured and used as a hostage, she deserved all the rest she could get. He didn't know when they would find such a sanctuary again. If the source of the noises came closer, they could soon be running for their lives once more.
As he lay silent in the gloom, he thought of Kybele and the way he had been used by her. He couldn't blame her for doing what she had to do; no doubt she had her reasons, even if he disagreed with them. To her he was nothing but a pawn, a magic token to use as required then toss away. That was okay, too; he hadn't earned any greater status in her worldview.
What stung him the most was that he hadn't had the sense to guess before now. He should have worked it out. Not knowing the truth—about him, about her, about the way the world was changing—was very different to being stupid. Ignorance he could forgive. Not deliberate blindness.
He had wanted to be told what to do. Without his brother around, he'd had no one to give him direction, definition. Kybele had offered him that, and he had taken it without questioning. Without even thinking to question. He was an idiot.
No, he told himself. He wasn't an idiot. That was the whole point. If he was an idiot, he wouldn't have minded making such a stupid mistake. He had higher expectations of himself. He owed himself more than that.
Ellis snuffled and rolled over to face him, barely visible in the gloom. Her eyes remained shut, and for a long minute he thought she was still asleep.
“It's dark,” she said.
“Yes. It is.”
“How long have we been snoozing?”
“I don't know, exactly. Most of the day, I guess. How are you feeling?”
“Hungry.”
He sat up. Next to the bed, in a sports bag they had stolen, were Utu and several “shopping” items. “I think I have some chocolate left.”
“No, Hade. It's okay.” She pulled him back onto the mattress. “Let's just lie here. I'm in no hurry to do anything too energetic just yet.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough, I guess. Bad dreams.”
“I'm getting used to them.” He hadn't told her that he had been dreaming about Seth almost constantly. It sounded obsessive, even to him. “I guess we'll just have to, if that racket keeps up.”
She craned her head to listen to the city's supernatural fauna. “It could be worse,” she said. “It could be completely silent. I can't imagine a city like that. It'd be terrifying.”
He nodded, remembering his first day out of hospital. It was different now. He felt as though a storm was building. Not the physical sort, though. Something else entirely.
“If you don't listen too closely,” he said, “it could almost be traffic.”
“Traffic from hell.” She laughed, then turned back to face him. Her irises contained tiny reflections, chips of fluorescent diamond glowing in the dark. Her expression was suddenly very serious. “What're we going to do, Hade?”
“I don't know. Stay alive as best we can. Beyond that, I'm trying not to think too hard.”
“We have to, though. We can't just walk around at random until something picks us off. We won't last a week.”
“Got any suggestions?” Although he didn't mean to sound irritable, it came out that way, and he instantly regretted it.
“I'm less in the know than you are,” she said, taking one of his hands in hers. She was icily cold and he wrapped his free hand over both of theirs to give her some of his warmth. “There must be something we can do, somewhere we can go. Didn't Kybele tell you anything about what she had planned? Where to find her at least, if things went wrong?”
“She wasn't on my side, remember?”
“But she didn't want you dead in some stupid accident. I thought she would've taken precautions.”
“I don't think she ever really expected to lose.” He remembered the dismay on her face when Lascowicz announced that he
was raising the creature called Mot. That had taken her completely off guard.
“So she didn't give you anything at all? Not a clue?”
He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I bet she's looking for us right now, wanting to get her hands on us.”
“I bet so, too.” The thought didn't seem to worry her. In fact, it seemed to make her relax. She stretched, emitting soft, languorous noises as her limbs woke. Hadrian smiled, more glad to be with her than he could begin to say.
When she had finished stretching, she rolled over to face him, and kissed him on the lips. He returned the kiss warily.
“Is something wrong, Hade?”
“Nothing,” he said, “beyond knowing my mouth tastes like crap.”
“Well, that makes two of us. I never realised how much I'd miss running water and toothpaste.”
“Agreed. There's nothing so unromantic as cleaning your teeth over a toilet.”
She laughed and kissed him again. Their bodies moved closer together, as naturally as though the mattress had a bow in it. Despite their circumstances—the weird noises, the cold, the lack of hygiene—he felt himself respond. They wrapped their arms around each other. The kiss became deeper. Their tongues touched.
Hungry: it was her word, but he shared the feeling. She peeled him out of his top, the same one he'd worn since the hospital. His skin was hypersensitive to her touch. She moved against him, stroked him, guided him. He slid his hand under her top to cup her breasts, and she flinched.
“Cold hands,” she said, rolling him over onto his back.
“Warm heart.”
“Something like that.” She pulled off his pants, giving him sweet freedom, and then took off her own. She leaned over him, knees on either side of his hips, not quite touching all along his abdomen. The tip of her nose stroked his cheek, his lips, his chin. He could feel her breath against his skin.
“Do you love me, Hadrian Castillo?”
“I—” He hesitated, unsure how to respond. “You know I can't.”
“Can't or won't?”
“Both.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It's the truth.” It's what you told me was the truth. “How can I love you when everything we have is shared? Loving is about giving someone everything. Neither of us can do that—so by definition this can't be love.”
The Crooked Letter: Books of the Cataclysm: One Page 34
