Imajica

by Clive Barker

  “But, Mams—” he began.

  “I said hush. I won’t have talk of that place in this house. Your father went there and never came back. Remember that.”

  “I want to go there when I’ve seen the Merrow Ti’ Ti’, like Mr. Gentle,” Efreet replied defiantly, and earned a sharp slap on the head for his troubles.

  “Enough,” Larumday said. “We’ve had too much talk tonight. A little silence would be welcome.”

  The conversation dwindled thereafter, and it wasn’t until the meal was finished and Efreet was preparing to take Pie up the hill to meet Wretched Tasko, that the boy’s mood brightened and his spring of enthusiasms burst forth afresh. Gentle was ready to join them, but Efreet explained that his mother—who was presently out of the room—wanted him to stay.

  “You should accommodate her,” Pie remarked when the boy had headed out. “If Tasko doesn’t want the car we may have to sell your body.”

  “I thought you were the expert on that, not me,” Gentle replied.

  “Now, now,” Pie said, with a grin. “I thought we’d agreed not to mention my dubious past.”

  “So go,” Gentle said. “Leave me to her tender mercies. But you’ll have to pick the fluff from between my teeth.”

  He found Mother Splendid in the kitchen, kneading dough for the morrow’s bread.

  “You’ve honored our home, coming here and sharing our table,” she said as she worked. “And please, don’t think badly of me for asking, but . . .”—her voice became a frightened whisper—“what do you want?”

  “Nothing,” Gentle replied. “You’ve already been more than generous.”

  She looked at him balefully, as though he was being cruel, teasing her in this fashion.

  “I’ve dreamt about somebody coming here,” she said. “White and furless, like you. I wasn’t sure whether it was a man or a woman, but now you’re here, sitting at the table, I know it was you.”

  First Tick Raw, he thought, now Mother Splendid. What was it about his face that made people think they knew him? Did he have a doppelgänger wandering around the Fourth?

  “Who do you think I am?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “But I knew that when you came everything would change.”

  Her eyes suddenly filled with tears as she spoke, and they ran down the silky fur on her cheeks. The sight of her distress in turn distressed him, not least because he knew he was the cause of it, but he didn’t know why. Undoubtedly she had dreamt of him—the look of shocked recognition on her face when he’d first stepped over the threshold was ample evidence of that—but what did that fact signify? He and Pie were here by chance. They’d be gone again by morning, passing through the millpond of Beatrix leaving nary a ripple. He had no significance in the life of the Splendid household, except as a subject of conversation when he’d gone.

  “I hope your life doesn’t change,” he said to her. “It seems very pleasant here.”

  “It is,” she said, wiping the tears away. “This is a safe place. It’s good to raise children here. I know Efreet will leave soon. He wants to see Patashoqua, and I won’t be able to stop him. But Emblem will stay. He likes the hills, and tending the doeki.”

  “And you’ll stay too?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve done my wandering,” she said. “I lived in Yzordderrex, near the Oke T’Noon, when I was young. That’s where I met Eloign. We moved away as soon as we were married. It’s a terrible city, Mr. Gentle.”

  “If it’s so bad, why did he go back there?”

  “His brother joined the Autarch’s army, and when Eloign heard he went back to try and make him desert. He said it brought shame on the family to have a brother taking a wage from an orphan-maker.”

  “A man of principle.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Larumday, with fondness in her voice. “He’s a fine man. Quiet, like Emblem, but with Efreet’s curiosity. All the books in this house are his. There’s nothing he won’t read.”

  “How long has he been away?”

  “Too long,” she said. “I’m afraid perhaps his brother’s killed him.”

  “A brother kill a brother?” Gentle said. “No. I can’t believe that.”

  “Yzordderrex does strange things to people, Mr. Gentle. Even good men lose their way.”

  “Only men?” Gentle said.

  “It’s men who make this world,” she said. “The Goddesses have gone, and men have their way everywhere.”

  There was no accusation in this. She simply stated it as fact, and he had no evidence to contradict it with. She asked him if he’d like her to brew tea, but he declined, saying he wanted to go out and take the air, perhaps find Pie ‘oh’ pah.

  “She’s very beautiful,” Larumday said. “Is she wise as well?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “She’s wise.”

  “That’s not usually the way with beauties, is it?” she said. “It’s strange that I didn’t dream her at the table, too.”

  “Maybe you did, and you’ve forgotten.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no, I’ve had the dream too many times, and it’s always the same: a white furless someone sitting at my table, eating with me and my sons.”

  “I wish I could have been a more sparkling guest,” he said.

  “But you’re just the beginning, aren’t you?” she said. “What comes after?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe your husband, home from Yzordderrex.”

  She looked doubtful. “Something,” she said. “Something that’ll change us all.”

  III

  Efreet had said the climb would be easy, and measuring it in terms of incline, so it was. But the darkness made an easy route difficult, even for one as light-footed as Pie ‘oh’ pah. Efreet was an accommodating guide, however, slowing his pace when he realized Pie was lagging behind and warning of places where the ground was uncertain. After a time they were high above the village, with the snow-clad peaks of the Jokalaylau visible above the backs of the hills in which Beatrix slept. High and majestic as those mountains were, the lower slopes of peaks yet more monumental were visible beyond them, their heads lost in cumulus. Not far now, the boy said, and this time his promises were good. Within a few yards Pie spotted a building silhouetted against the sky, with a light burning on its porch.

  “Hey, Wretched!” Efreet started to call. “Someone to see you! Someone to see you!”

  There was no reply forthcoming, however, and when they reached the house itself the only living occupant was the flame in the lamp. The door stood open; there was food on the table. But of Wretched Tasko there was no sign. Efreet went out to search around, leaving Pie on the porch. Animals corralled behind the house stamped and muttered in the darkness; there was a palpable unease.

  Efreet came back moments later. “I see him up the hill! He’s almost at the top.”

  “What’s he doing there?” Pie asked.

  “Watching the sky, maybe. We’ll go up. He won’t mind.”

  They continued to climb, their presence now noticed by the figure standing on the hill’s higher reaches. “Who is this?” he called down.

  “It’s only Efreet, Mr. Tasko. I’m with a friend.”

  “Your voice is too loud, boy,” the man returned. “Keep it low, will you?”

  “He wants us to keep quiet,” Efreet whispered.

  “I understand.”

  There was a wind blowing on these heights, and its chill put the mystif in mind of the fact that neither Gentle nor itself had clothes appropriate to the journey that lay ahead of them. Coaxial clearly climbed here regularly; he was wearing a shaggy coat and a hat with fur ear warmers. He was very clearly not a local man. It would have taken three of the villagers to equal his mass or strength, and his skin was almost as dark as Pie’s.

  “This is my friend Pie ‘oh’ pah,” Efreet whispered to him when they were at his side.

  “Mystif,” Tasko said instantly.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. So you’re a stranger?�
�

  “Yes.”

  “From Yzordderrex?”

  “No.”

  “That’s to the good, at least. But so many strangers, and all on the same night. What are we to make of it?”

  “Are there others?” said Efreet.

  “Listen,” Tasko said, casting his gaze over the valley to the darkened slopes beyond. “Don’t you hear the machines?”

  “No. Just the wind.”

  Tasko’s response was to pick the boy up and physically point him in the direction of the sound.

  “Now listen!” he said fiercely.

  The wind carried a low rumble that might have been distant thunder, but that it was unbroken. Its source was certainly not the village below, nor did it seem likely there were earthworks in the hills. This was the sound of engines, moving through the night.

  “They’re coming towards the valley.”

  Efreet made a whoop of pleasure, which was cut short by Tasko slapping his hand over the boy’s mouth.

  “Why so happy, child?” he said. “Have you never learned fear? No, I don’t suppose you have. Well, learn it now.” He held Efreet so tightly the boy struggled to be free. “Those machines are from Yzordderrex. From the Autarch. Do you understand?”

  Growling his displeasure he let go, and Efreet backed away from him, at least as nervous of Tasko now as of the distant machines. The man hawked up a wad of phlegm and spat it in the direction of the sound.

  “Maybe they’ll pass us by,” he said. “There are other valleys they could choose. They may not come through ours.” He spat again. “Ach, well, there’s no purpose in staying up here. If they come, they come.” He turned to Efreet. “I’m sorry if I was rough, boy,” he said. “But I’ve heard these machines before. They’re the same that killed my people. Take it from me, they’re nothing to whoop about. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Efreet said, though Pie doubted he did. The prospect of a visitation from these thundering things held no horror for him, only exhilaration.

  “So tell me what you want, mystif,” Tasko said as he started back down the hill. “You didn’t climb all the way up here to watch the stars. Or maybe you did. Are you in love?”

  Efreet tittered in the darkness behind them.

  “If I were I wouldn’t talk about it,” Pie replied.

  “So what, then?”

  “I came here with a friend, from . . . some considerable distance, and our vehicle’s nearly defunct. We need to trade it in for animals.”

  “Where are you heading?”

  “Up into the mountains.”

  “Are you prepared for that journey?”

  “No. But it has to be taken.”

  “The faster you’re out of the valley the safer we’ll be, I think. Strangers attract strangers.”

  “Will you help us?”

  “Here’s my offer, mystif,” Tasko said. “If you leave Beatrix now, I’ll see they give you supplies and two doeki. But you must be quick.”

  “I understand.”

  “If you go now, maybe the machines will pass us by.”

  IV

  Without anyone to lead him, Gentle had soon lost his way on the dark hill. But rather than turning around and heading back to await Pie in Beatrix, he continued to climb, drawn by the promise of a view from the heights and a wind to clear his head. Both took his breath away: the wind with its chill, the panorama with its sweep. Ahead, range upon range receded into mist and distance, the farthest heights so vast he doubted the Fifth Dominion could boast their equal. Behind him, just visible between the softer silhouettes of the foothills, were the forests which they’d driven through.

  Once again, he wished he had a map of the territory, so that he could begin to grasp the scale of the journey they were undertaking. He tried to lay the landscape out on a page in his mind, like a sketch for a painting, with this vista of mountains, hills, and plain as the subject. But the fact of the scene before him overwhelmed his attempt to make symbols of it; to reduce it and set it down. He let the problem go and turned his eyes back towards the Jokalaylau. Before his gaze reached its destination, it came to rest on the hill slopes directly across from him. He was suddenly aware of the valley’s symmetry, hills rising to the same height, left and right. He studied the slopes opposite. It was a nonsensical quest, seeking a sign of life at such a distance, but the more he squinted at the hill’s face the more certain he became that it was a dark mirror, and that somebody as yet unseen was studying the shadows in which he stood, looking for some sign of him as he in his turn searched for them. Thenotion intrigued him at first, but then it began to make him afraid. The chill in his skin worked its way into his innards. He began to shiver inside, afraid to move for fear that this other, whoever or whatever it was, would see him and, in the seeing, bring calamity. He remained motionless for a long time, the wind coming in frigid gusts and bringing with it sounds he hadn’t heard until now: the rumble of machinery; the complaint of unfed animals; sobbing. The sounds and the seeker on the mirror hill belonged together, he knew. This other had not come alone. It had engines and beasts. It brought tears.

  As the cold reached his marrow, he heard Pie ‘oh’ pah calling his name, way down the hill. He prayed the wind wouldn’t veer and carry the call, and thus his whereabouts, in the direction of the watcher. Pie continued to call for him, the voice getting nearer as the mystif climbed through the darkness. He endured five terrible minutes of this, his system racked by contrary desires: part of him desperately wanting Pie here with him, embracing him, telling him that the fear upon him was ridiculous; the other part in terror that Pie would find him and thus reveal his whereabouts to the creature on the other hill.

  At last, the mystif gave up its search and retraced its steps down into the secure streets of Beatrix. Gentle didn’t break cover, however. He waited another quarter of an hour until his aching eyes discovered a motion on the opposite slope. The watcher was giving up his post, it seemed, moving around the back of the hill. Gentle caught a glimpse of his silhouette as he disappeared over the brow, just enough to confirm that the other had indeed been human, at least in shape if not in spirit. He waited another minute, then started down the slope. His extremities were numb, his teeth chattering, his torso rigid with cold, but he went quickly, falling and descending several yards on his buttocks, much to the startlement of dozing doeki. Pie was below, waiting at the door of Mother Splendid’s house. Two saddled and bridled beasts stood in the street, one being fed a palmful of fodder by Efreet.

  “Where did you go?” Pie wanted to know. “I came looking for you.”

  “Later,” Gentle said. “I have to get warm.”

  “No time,” Pie replied. “The deal is we get the doeki, food, and coats if we go immediately.”

  “They’re very eager to get rid of us suddenly.”

  “Yes, we are,” said a voice from beneath the trees opposite the house. A black man with pale, mesmeric eyes stepped into view. “You’re Zacharias?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m Coaxial Tasko, called the Wretched. The doeki are yours. I’ve given the mystif some supplies to set you on your way, but please . . . tell nobody you’ve been here.”

  “He thinks we’re bad luck,” Pie said.

  “He could be right,” said Gentle. “Am I allowed to shake your hand, Mr. Tasko, or is that bad luck, too?”

  “You may shake my hand,” the man said.

  “Thank you for the transport. I swear we’ll tell nobody we were here. But I may want to mention you in my memoirs.”

  A smile broke over Tasko’s stern features.

  “You may do that too,” he said, shaking Gentle’s hand. “But not till I’m dead, huh? I don’t like scrutiny.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “Now, please . . . the sooner you’re gone the sooner we can pretend we never saw you.”

  Efreet came forward, bearing a coat, which Gentle put on. It reached to his shins and smelled strongly of the animal who’d been born in it, bu
t it was welcome.

  “Mother says goodbye,” the boy told Gentle. “She won’t come out and see you.” He lowered his voice to an embarrassed whisper. “She’s crying a lot.”

  Gentle made a move towards the door, but Tasko checked him. “Please, Mr. Zacharias, no delays,” he said. “Go now, with our blessing, or not at all.”

  “He means it,” Pie said, climbing up onto his doeki, the animal casting a backward glance at its rider as it was mounted. “We have to go.”

  “Don’t we even discuss the route?”

  “Tasko has given me a compass and directions.” The mystif pointed to a narrow trail that led up out of the village. “That’s the way we take.”

  Reluctantly, Gentle put his foot in the doeki’s leather stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. Only Efreet managed a goodbye, daring Tasko’s wrath to press his hand into Gentle’s.

  “I’ll see you in Patashoqua one day,” he said.

  “I hope so,” Gentle replied.

  That being the full sum of their farewells, Gentle was left with the sense of an exchange broken in midsentence, and now permanently unfinished. But they were at least going on from the village better equipped for the terrain ahead than they’d been when they entered.

  “What was all that about?” Gentle asked Pie, when they were on the ridge above Beatrix, and the trail was about to turn and take its tranquil lamp-lit streets from sight.

  “A battalion of the Autarch’s army is passing through the hills, on its way to Patashoqua. Tasko was afraid the presence of strangers in the village would give the soldiers an excuse for marauding.”

  “So that’s what I heard on the hill.”

  “That’s what you heard.”