by Martin Dukes
“Bring more chairs,” she grunted to Zulfiqar, who immediately scurried off towards some outbuildings. “Bring five!” she shouted after him, somewhat enigmatically.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” said Alex, with the low bow that Zulfiqar had recommended.
Henry did likewise, with an ironic half smile that spoke of an internal dialogue about what the hell was he doing? Kelly made what might generously have been described as a curtsy.
Without feeling it necessary to say anything for the sake of breaking the ice – perhaps she liked the ice – the Sultan’s mother regarded them with apparent disapproval. They waited, more or less patiently, whilst bees got on with pollinating things, birds twittered in the bushes and a single small fluffy white cloud inched its way ever so slowly across part of the perfect blue sky, all the time gradually changing its shape.
“Hmmm,” she said at last, when Alex’s attention had wandered into a consideration of the function of bees. “I have been giving some thought to what you told me last night.”
Zulfiqar reappeared at this point, assisted in bringing chairs by Hassan, an enormous liveried black man who acted as butler, bodyguard and head of Shaquira’s household.
“Hassan, bring across my other guests, if you would,” she said.
“Yes, Your Highness,” said Hassan in his improbably high voice. Alex wondered if he was missing a couple of items downstairs. He came to the realisation that the Lady Shaquira reminded him of a sort of oriental Ganymede, the morose and sadistic vagrant who had been placed in charge of the sector of Intersticia in which Kelly and Alex had once been trapped. Each was charmless and intimidating, but Shaquira was better turned out. On the other hand it seemed likely that their host could actually have you killed if the fancy took her, something that could probably not be said of Ganymede. Whilst these thoughts were crossing Alex’s mind, Hassan was crossing the lawn to Shaquira’s apartments – shortly to reappear with two smaller figures, the larger male, the smaller female, according to the manner of their dress. Recognition seemed to strike more or less simultaneously on all sides.
“Kellyyy!” he heard Tanya cry – for it was she – and moments later there were hugs, kisses and tears all round. Will, dressed for the pantomime as they all were, broke into a bit of a trot too, beaming all over his fat face as he hugged Alex and Kelly. The last few weeks or so had evidently agreed with him, if the dimensions of his waist were anything to go by.
“Oh my God! What are you doing here?” he squeaked.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” wept Tanya, squeezing Kelly’s midriff until her eyes fairly bulged. Kelly buried her own dark head in Tanya’s golden locks, running her fingers through her curls and rocking her gently from side to side.
There were so many questions to be asked and answered on all sides, but before anyone could get properly going, Shaquira’s harsh voice cut through the merriment.
“I think that will do for now, thank you very much,” her face showing the vaguest hint of amusement. “Perhaps I may have your attention for a moment.”
“She wants us to listen to her,” said Will earnestly, thumbing his glasses up his nose in a manner that Alex recognised with a little thrill of pleasure. “I’ve been learning their language. Arabic, I guess it is.”
“He’s getting quite good at it now,” Tanya told them. “Ever so clever, he is. I can’t understand a word, and I have tried.”
“I think I’ve got a bit of an ear for languages,” said Will modestly, flushing rather around the cheeks.
“Silence!” barked Shaquira suddenly. “My God, will you babble all day?”
Silence descended upon the party, all eyes swivelled to face her.
“Good. Now, if you will kindly sit down.”
“She wants us to sit down,” murmured Will.
“I know what she said,” replied Alex through the side of his mouth, taking one of the chairs that had been arranged in a semi-circle in front of Shaquira. Will was perhaps going to be disappointed to find that his talent for languages would be rendered superfluous as soon as Alex found a moment to give him one of the translation earpieces.
“Now,” said Shaquira, addressing Alex, Kelly and Henry. “You will doubtless be keen to know how I come to be entertaining your friends.” She leaned back in her chair and steepled her elegant fingertips before her.
“They were found wandering about a month ago, in the eastern parts of this island. Milkskins like yourselves are rarely to be found in these regions, and so naturally they aroused considerable curiosity, particularly since they were dressed in a barbaric manner and proved to be ignorant of our tongue. At first there was speculation that they might have been shipwrecked, but the weather had been untroubled, there was no report of stricken ships and, besides, they were discovered some way inland. At first they were fed and housed by a kindly villager, but soon they came to the attention of the local Bey and he had them brought to his house. Interrogation revealed little, of course, because they spoke no tongue that anyone could understand. By means of sign language and sketches made on paper it was determined that they claimed to have fallen out of the sky.”
Shaquira arched her eyebrows, and her mouth twitched momentarily into a wry smile.
“In some quarters they might have been dismissed as lunatics and knocked on the head or set to work in the fields, but fortunately for them this particular Bey is a man of learning with a notably enquiring mind. He set himself to observe their behaviour and to further investigate their story. During the course of a few weeks, working with the one called Will, he was able to establish a basis of communication, teaching the boy enough of our tongue for the essentials of their story to be teased out. Their story has every attribute of lunacy, but the Bey did not believe them to be lunatics. At this point news of these travellers reached my ears and I commanded him to send them here. They arrived yesterday morning; I have just sent word to the Sultan that more white worms have fallen to earth. Doubtless he will be delighted.”
“They are our friends, Your Highness,” said Alex. “I never thought I should see them again.”
Will and Tanya were regarding him with wonderment, since to their ears he was speaking fluent Arabic. Henry, who had yet to be introduced to the newcomers but knew them from Alex’s account of them, cocked his head on one side and leant back in his chair.
“I thought he’d be fatter,” he said to Alex.
“Shut up,” said Kelly.
“He can’t understand me.”
“Just shut up.”
By the time Alex and Kelly had told Shaquira the circumstances of their parting from Will and Tanya, the sun was high in the sky and a man of elderly but distinguished appearance had joined the party. He proved to be Zoroaster, the court astronomer. He was a man of formidable intelligence, if Shaquira’s introduction was anything to go by. From the look of him and from his manner of dress it seemed that he didn’t spend a lot of time on personal grooming. Much of the story needed to be repeated for his sake, including an unabridged account of their adventures in Intersticia. It struck Alex as remarkable that two adults were prepared to listen with apparent absorption to a story that sounded improbable even to his own ears. Nor was it entirely beyond question that they actually believed it.
“A remarkable story,” said Zoroaster, whose name was pronounced ‘Zorro-aster’. He tugged thoughtfully on a straggly beard that extended pretty much to his waist and had what might have been fragments of egg in it.
“Indeed,” said Shaquira, turning to him. “I would have dismissed it out of hand were it not for the fact that the essentials of the story were told by both parties, before they knew of each other’s presence on the island. I confess I do not know what to make of it. You are a man of science. I would value your opinion.”
Zoroaster, whose only visible garment was a purple robe with moons and stars embroidered on it, plucked at a loose gold thread on one of these and knitted his brow.
“Remarkable,” he said aga
in. “I would value the opportunity to question them further before I venture my considered opinion.”
“Then you shall have it. Send for them at your pleasure and I shall have them sent across. For now they are to remain in the palace. It appears that the Sultan has expressed great enthusiasm for their company, particularly Alex here.” She nodded at Alex, who was feeling a little resentful about their being discussed as though they were possessions of some sort.
“You may go now,” she said to him. “I shall arrange for your friends to be accommodated in the same suite. I imagine that you have much to talk about.”
Zulfiqar led them away across the lawn, smiling to see Tanya skipping and chattering gleefully at Kelly’s side. Zoroaster was apparently engaged in genteel conversation with Shaquira, but Alex was aware of his eyes following them as they passed out of the garden.
Will had been impressed to see that Alex, Kelly and Henry were able to converse with their hosts in flawless Arabic. He was less impressed when Alex rummaged in a drawer and fetched out a couple of the earpieces to which he owed these skills. It appeared that once the language was installed in the user’s brain it was no longer necessary to wear them. The smattering of Arabic Will had picked up by his own hard work and enterprise was immediately replaced by perfect understanding the moment he placed them in his ears.
“Wow!” he said. “Here, Tanya. Check this out! I don’t know how many more surprises I can stand today.” He beamed at Alex whilst Zulfiqar and another servant carried in another bed to set beside Alex and Henry’s. “Oh my God, I still can’t believe you’re here too,” he said. “I really thought I’d never see you again.”
“What did it look like from your point of view? I mean, when the three of us jumped onto the manatee,” asked Alex, moving aside to let Zulfiqar past.
“Well, you just kind of disappeared,” said Will. “The manatee, too. I never saw anything like it.”
“And what about Cactus Jack?” asked Kelly. “The last I saw of him he was wrestling with Tony.”
“He’s one of the top angels,” explained Will, for Henry’s benefit.
“I heard,” said Henry, who was looking vaguely disgruntled about the sudden arrival of the two newcomers.
Cactus Jack, whose object had been to draw a line under Kelly’s existence in Intersticia, had been momentarily distracted by a lock of her hair in Tony’s pocket. Will and Tanya described the lively struggle that had taken place until both Jack and Tony had themselves been distracted by what had sounded like an enormous piece of fabric being torn.
“It was like someone was tearing up the sky,” said Tanya. “And then everything went blurry and then not blurry again and the buildings started going up and down, with all bits falling off them. Dead scary it was.” Her eyes were saucer wide at the recollection of it.
“Jack and Tony let go of each other and looked around for a moment, just as shocked as we were,” continued Will. “Then Tony suddenly gets it and he looks at us, all angry, like, and says look what you’ve done now! We’re losing the interstice, like it was our fault or something.”
“It was our fault, to be fair,” said Kelly with a shrug. “Sounds like it was, anyway.”
“Yeah, well…” said Will with a shrug of his own. “We didn’t actually mean to trash the interstice, did we?”
“So what happened next?” enquired Alex, sitting next to him on the bed.
“Nothing much,” said Will. “It all went dark suddenly, like someone switched off the lights, and next thing I knew it felt like I was falling. I guess I must have passed out, because when I woke up I was in the middle of a banana plantation.”
“I was there too,” added Tanya. “And he was lying right across me, and I thought he was going to squash me to death.” She grinned.
“Shut up,” said Will peevishly, but with no real venom, giving her a shove.
Tanya told the story of their reception in a nearby village and their introduction to the local Bey, a kindly man who did his best to look after them and to find out where they had come from. They had already heard the bare outlines of this story from Shaquira, but Will and Tanya had lots of details to flesh out the bones.
“You were really, really lucky,” said Henry. “If you’d woken up in some other places around here you might have ended up a slave.”
“How come we all ended up roughly in the same place?” asked Will, moving down his bed and tucking into a plate of dates that Zulfiqar had set down on a low table at its foot.
“Gotta be Malcolm, hasn’t it?” said Alex, stroking his jaw. “He seems to be behind everything. I’m guessing he plucked you out of Intersticia just before it folded and dropped you here so’s you could be with us.”
“Well, roughly with us,” said Kelly. “To be fair, he was a couple of hundred miles out and a couple of weeks too by the sounds of it.”
“I don’t know,” said Alex. “I guess it’s no walk in the park doing that kind of thing.”
“Well, I think Malcolm’s got a whole load of questions to answer,” said Kelly, with arms folded and a truculent expression.
“If he ever shows up,” said Henry dubiously. “I’m beginning to think we’re stuck here forever.”
“What, you mean marooned like the Ancient Mariner?” asked Will.
“The Ancient Mariner was not marooned, dumbass,” scoffed Henry.
Will reddened.
“I mean, what makes you think he’s going to come back for us?” said Henry, conscious of having overstepped the mark and anxious to move things on.
“He will. I know he will,” said Alex, spreading his arms wide. “I trust him.” He glanced around a circle of four doubtful faces. “I do,” he finished lamely. “I just do.”
Chapter Five
It was the same night that Malcolm made contact. A face to face meeting would have been perfect; some kind of phone communication acceptable if necessary. What Alex could never have predicted was that Malcolm would come to him in his sleep; in his dreams, in fact. This, of course, had the potential to be embarrassing, but as things worked out Alex was having a very dull and uncontroversial dream about string when Malcolm showed up, standing on the other side of the string factory and beckoning frantically. Alex went across to him, pedalling the golden tricycle that was his present mode of transport.
“Hi,” said Alex matter-of-factly, because anything could and did happen in dreams.
“Nice wheels,” observed Malcolm, whose suit looked even more dishevelled than ever, were such a thing possible.
“Thanks.”
“You might want to kind of wake up a bit,” said Malcolm, giving Alex’s dream persona a vigorous shake by the shoulders. “You’re way too deep and I need you to remember what I’ve got to say. I haven’t got long to say it, either. I’m sorry about having to get to you like this but I’m being watched at the moment and this was the only way I could think of getting anything like a secure connection.” He looked over his shoulder as though he feared being overheard.
“Okay,” said Alex, stepping off the tricycle and blinking his eyes a few times. The tricycle disappeared. “I’m there. What the hell is going on, anyway? You’re not going to leave us here, are you? Not permanent, like?”
“No, no,” said Malcolm, waving the idea away. “I had to find somewhere to hide you for a bit, somewhere the Brothers wouldn’t come looking for you.”
“Whose brothers?” asked Alex, frowning.
“Not just any brothers, the Brothers,” said Malcolm, leaning against one of the string machines and fetching a small grey pebble out of his pocket, studying its surface carefully before setting it on a ledge.
“I haven’t got the faintest idea what you’re on about,” said Alex, shaking his head slowly.
“Hmm? What? Didn’t I explain? I’m talking about the Brethren of Twelve. I supposed you’d say they were like a religious cult, but instead of being mortals like you they’re operating in my sphere.”
“What – you mean they’re
angels?”
“Yeah. It takes all sorts, you know; even in Elysium – that’s the angelic realm, you see. Elysium.”
“What, like Heaven?”
“Let’s not even go there,” said Malcolm with a harsh laugh. “Whole different can of worms, that one.”
“Okay, just tell me what’s going on,” said Alex impatiently, “before I take that enormous bazooka over there by the zeppelin and blow you to pieces with it.”
“Steady on,” said Malcolm, raising his hands in mock alarm. “I’m getting there. I told you before that you’re kind of special; special in a way that means the Brothers are trying to get hold of you.”
“But why?” asked Alex plaintively. “What’s so special about me, anyway?”
“I’m not sure for certain,” said Malcolm. “But it’s got something to do with what you showed you could do in Intersticia.”
“Moving stuff around, you mean?”
“Yeah. You were way off the scale in terms of what you could do, see? And I guess that rang some alarm bells in places we didn’t need them rung.”
“I don’t get it. I don’t see moving statical stuff is going to be any use anywhere else outside of ‘Sticia.”
“On the face of it, you’re right, but it’s not as simple as that,” said Malcolm, having another glance at his pebble. “That kind of ability manifests itself in different ways in different places. That’s why I put you here. It’s a reality with a known dampening effect on angelic power. It’s really obscure – right out on the fringes temporally and spatially, quite apart from being awkward to get to in a few other dimensions you’re never going to be even able to get your head round. It’s like putting a chunk of plutonium in a lead-lined safe at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, if that makes more sense to you. These guys mean business and they’ll track you down in the end, but I’ve made it as hard for them as I can. I’m buying us some time so I can work out exactly what your power is. I’ve got an idea – don’t get me wrong, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought – but I don’t want to go blurting it out until I’m fairly sure. I’ve got some chaps analysing your profile right now, but it could take a while. Until then you’ve got to hunker down and lie low.”
