Fire World

by Chris D'Lacey

  “What? Well, switch it off. Just smash the thing, will you?”

  He held it in the air as she tried to grab it. “No,” he said. “You don’t understand. The book wants this. I can sense it in my fain. It’s putting some of its auma into the pad so I can absorb it, just like you did. All it’s doing is …” He blinked and cut off.

  “What?” she demanded.

  The auma pad buzzed. “It’s telling me something.”

  Rosa spread her hands, inviting him to say what.

  “A squirrel is going to come to the librarium.”

  “A squirrel?”

  “Yes.” And he stared at the bushy-tailed mammal again.

  And in his mind, it sat up — and smiled.

  3.

  Aunt Gwyneth said, “Tell me about the creature.”

  The Ix Cluster swelled at the forefront of her mind. The construct we created to deceive the humans?

  “There was no ‘we’ about it. That was all your doing. What was that vile abomination?”

  A darkling, the Cluster replied. A form the Ix take on a physical plane.

  “Are there darklings on the planet you called Earth?”

  There was a violent pulse of energy behind the katt’s ear. A colony was defeated at the battle of Isenfier, but the Shadow will bring them back. We will take the Earth and the fire at its core. The Ix will be victorious. The Inversion will succeed.

  Miarrrgh! went the katt and threw his head to one side as he fought to stop the Cluster surging again.

  David stopped what he was doing and came over to the basket.

  “Is it all right?” asked Rosa.

  “Just dreaming, I think.” He put a finger beneath the katt’s chin and stroked it. Aunt Gwyneth responded by bubbling saliva over his knuckles.

  “Nice,” David said and wiped his hand on his jeans.

  For the past two days, he and Rosa had been hard at work cleaning and restoring the burned-out room. No firebird had visited in that time. And they had still to locate The Book of Agawin. Nothing more had been said about the animal book or David’s prediction about the squirrel. Life was back to normal, it seemed.

  None of this was sitting well with Aunt Gwyneth. Tired of her confinement in a basket, and a form that continually made her want to kick the scruff of her neck, she had resorted to interrogating the Ix. This was a dangerous practice. For if she opened her mind too widely to them, the struggle to maintain dominance usually resulted in a physical outburst, and that drew David’s attention. But if she kept her mind in stasis, she learned nothing of the alien life-forms either. When they did speak, the dark beings kept no secrets. Even she was chilled by their sweeping arrogance. So confident were they of ruling the nexus that they always spoke openly of their battle plans. Isenfier. The Shadow. What they called the Inversion. Aunt Gwyneth was as much confused by these terms as the firebirds were after centuries of guarding the tapestry on Floor One Hundred and Eight. But she was in the unique position of commingling with the beings, who not only knew of the connection between three worlds, but had visited time points on two of them at least.

  She chose one of the terms and asked about it. “Tell me about Isenfier. You lost a battle there?”

  No, the battle is suspended in time.

  “Suspended? How is that possible?”

  It was done with a creat:or.

  Aunt Gwyneth thought about the dragon’s claw, which, for safety’s sake, she’d hidden. “Those things can control time?”

  The creat:or can shape dark matter, but those who wield the creat:or must resonate precisely with the nexus and the universe.

  “Who could wield such a thing?” (Apart from David, she added as an afterthought.)

  The Ix fizzed around her mind like water molecules coming to a boil. She could sense their resentment well before they said, There are dragon elementals on Earth, responsible for aiding the protection of the planet.

  The katt twitched a whisker. “Explain the term ‘dragon elementals.’”

  Humans born of dragon auma, able to create the living likeness of a dragon from the physical crust of Earth. It was a creature such as this that wielded a creat:or at Isenfier.

  Crust of Earth? Aunt Gwyneth thought of Eliza in the Dead Lands and what David’s mother had done with clay, particularly the birth of Penny. So intense was her musing that she let her attention slip for a moment, almost allowing the Ix to re-form. For a second time the katt let out a violent hiss as Aunt Gwyneth forced the Cluster back into submission.

  “It’s doing that ripping thing again,” Rosa said as Felix dug his claws into the base of his bedding.

  Once again, David stopped what he was doing. “Maybe it needs some thera:peutic input. When Counselor Strømberg arrives I’ll ask him to check it over. I’m going to send that :com today, whether we’ve found the book or not.”

  That, thought the Aunt, was all she needed. Strømberg picking her up and stroking her. Once again she intensified her auma, smashing the Cluster into scraps temporarily. She picked on a scrap and neutralized it. It left a burning hole in her mind, a void in her memory she knew she would never be able to fill. But as a demonstration of power it was quick and effective. The Ix took the hint.

  We will answer your questions, they said weakly.

  “Very wise. Tell me more about David Merriman. How can he have the auma of a dragon when no such thing exists on this world?”

  The Ix paused. He is between worlds, they said.

  “There are three Davids?”

  Negative, said the Ix. There is one entity, varying at quantum speeds between the time points. His auma alternates across the planes. This is a primary condition of the nexus.

  “Is his life on Earth different — when he’s there?”

  Yes, but his purpose remains the same. Only the connections vary.

  “Connections? What connections?”

  The Ix took a moment to consider this question. The mammal in the book is one.

  “The squirrel? Why would an insignificant creature mean so much to someone like him?”

  On Earth, he has resonated strongly with them. We do not know what their function is.

  “And where do I, Gwyneth, fit into this?”

  You are another connection.

  Suddenly, the tic around the eye was back. “Are you telling me that I have another life — on Earth?”

  We must Cluster to answer that.

  “Do it,” she snapped, flashing the katt’s tail. “Try anything and I’ll neutralize you all.”

  We accept this, said the Ix.

  She let them regroup. After several moments of neural activity, they reported they had an answer.

  “Well? What is it?”

  At the time of Isenfier, Gwyneth does not exist.

  “What?” The katt’s teeth began to chatter fiercely.

  On Earth, you are called Gwilanna. You die before Isenfier begins.

  “How? In what circumstances?”

  Fear, they said, buzzing around her brain. Fear of the Shadow. Fear of the Ix.

  “Fear of you?” she spat. “Then —” Die yourself, she was about to say, when a light began to flash in a corner of the room and a strange combination of clangs and whistles and hoots and bells went off all over the building. The katt leaped to his feet and jumped around to look at David and Rosa.

  “Well, that doesn’t happen every day,” David said.

  There was someone at the librarium door.

  4.

  Maybe it’s your squirrel,” Rosa said drily.

  But when David popped his head out of the window to see, he was even more surprised than he might have been if Rosa’s suggestion had been correct. He dashed to the front door and flung it wide. “Mom!” he cried in delight. “And … Penny,” he added, as his grinning sister popped out from behind their mother’s back.

  “We’ve come to see you,” Penny said, waving a hand.

  He smiled to see her holding a daisy to her chin.

  “Is
it a bad time?” Eliza asked. She flicked a look beyond him, into the librarium.

  “No,” he said, “but … erm?”

  “Why are we here?”

  “It’s ‘cause I want another book,” chirped Penny. She stepped up and punched him lightly in the ribs. (Why did sisters do that? he wondered.)

  “And we miss you, of course,” his mother added.

  “And we want to see Rosa,” Penny said, putting so much slant on the name that she almost curtsied. She jumped up straight and put her head back. “Wow, it’s big, isn’t it? Can I go in?” This turned out to be a nonquestion. Before David could speak, she’d dashed past him into the foyer.

  “Penny, come back. You’ll get lost!” he shouted.

  “I’m in here,” she called faintly. “Wow, there’re books everywhere, Mom!”

  Eliza stepped forward and took her son’s hands. “You OK?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s the burning smell?”

  Even now, the aftereffects of the blaze still lingered. “We had a fire —”

  “A fire? Here?”

  “— and a bit of trouble, but everything’s under control now.”

  Eliza looked at him as if she suspected that the “bit” of trouble was really rather serious, but she let it pass. “Were the birds affected? I don’t see any.”

  “Slight misunderstanding with the birds. I’ll explain later. Come on in, I’ll show you around.”

  He stood back and let his mother go past. As she entered the foyer she paused to listen to a rustling sound. “What’s that?”

  “That will be the books saying hello. It means they like you.”

  “The books do?”

  “Mmm. You’ll get used to that.” A slight breeze found its way down the stairs to caress the ends of Eliza’s hair. It was as if the building had sighed with joy to see her. “So, would you like a cup of tea before your tour? Or do you want to meet Rosa first?”

  Suddenly, there was a thumping clatter from one of the rooms and a voice went, “Ow!”

  “Oh, Penny,” Eliza tutted. She set off in the direction of the sound, only to have David stop her and say, “No, it’s this way, Mom.”

  “But?” She pointed to the left of the stairs.

  “Doesn’t work like that. You don’t go where you think you ought to, you go where the building tells you you should. The two things often coincide, but it’s always best to put your faith in the building.” He gestured for her to follow.

  They found Penny on Floor Five, standing sheepishly beside several piles of books that had collapsed in a slicing domino effect. Rosa was there already, silently picking them up.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Penny whispered, hiding her face behind her knocked-together fists.

  Rosa lifted a dark eyebrow.

  “Rosa,” David said, taking a book from her hand and separating her from the clutter. “This is my mom and my, erm, little sister. They’ve come to pay us a visit.”

  Rosa tossed her hair. Just for a moment she was twelve again. “We’ve met,” she said to Eliza.

  “Yes, but you’re rather different now,” Eliza said. “You’re very beautiful, Rosa.” David switched his gaze between the two women. Though neither of them wanted to break their proud stares, he was confident his mother’s remark had softened the tension. And he couldn’t fault her observation. Since Rosa had acquired the mark on her arm, she seemed to be even more striking than before, in a darkly intense and moody sort of way.

  Penny tugged her brother’s sleeve. “Honestly, I didn’t mean it.”

  “I know,” he said. He gave her a quick hug.

  “It was the katt,” she said.

  “You’ve got a katt?” said Eliza.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Rosa glanced at David. “It shot out of the basket when the room alarms went off. I thought it was with you.”

  “It made me jump,” Penny said. “It gave me a funny look.”

  “I doubt it,” said Eliza, flicking through a gardening book. “Most katts have got one look: permanent confusion.”

  David saw Rosa’s mouth twitch into a smile. It was brief. Almost negligible. But there all the same. It was surely only a matter of time before she and his mom became friends. “So, shall we go to a resting room?”

  “OK, I’ll do these later,” Rosa said.

  “She’ll help you,” said Eliza, nudging Penny (who grinned as if she’d got something stuck in her teeth).

  “She can’t,” Rosa said. “Only David and I know exactly where the books need to go.”

  Before Penny’s lips could thicken into a sulk, David brought his hands together in a clapping motion and said, “Right. Let’s … go and relax then, shall we?” And he turned his sister around and marched her away. (This time when she socked him in the ribs, she meant it.)

  Thankfully, Penny had brightened up by the time they’d reached the room where Mr. Henry had kept his favorite reference books. The table Thorren Strømberg had constructed there was a fading shimmer. David reimagineered it, adding cups and saucers. While Rosa set about preparing drinks, Penny squirmed into a chair and said, “Shall we give David his present now, Mom?”

  “Present?” He brushed Felix off a chair so his mother could sit down.

  “It’s something for the building, really,” said Eliza. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t have you in mind when I made it. Well, no, that’s not strictly true. I was thinking about you — because you’d just gone away — but I’d intended to create a more natural dragon —”

  “Dragon?” Rosa said, suddenly becoming interested.

  “— and it just came out the way it did. It was as if it already existed somewhere and I just gave it … form.”

  Eliza reached into her bag and put a sculpture on the table. It was about twice the height of a cup (in its saucer) and made of solid clay. It was sitting upright on two flat feet, balancing on a tail that swept out behind it and curved up at the end in a triangular point. The scales were crosshatched over its back, but arranged in a pattern of crescents on its chest. The wings were half-folded down. Apart from the general form, two things really stood out for David. The whole profile of the head was far gentler than the images of dragons in his mind, mainly because of the oval-shaped, violet-colored eyes, which inspired warmth and kindness and trust. And secondly, it was holding an open book.

  Eliza turned it so that Rosa could see. “I made it from earth I brought back from the Dead Lands. I imagineered the color” — green, with turquoise hints — “but the book just appeared out of nowhere, like I’d blinked and continued sculpting unawares. It seemed appropriate to bring it to a place full of books. I hope you can find a shelf for it.”

  “Of course we can,” said David. “What do you think, Rosa?”

  “It’s not what I think,” she muttered. “Look at the katt.”

  Felix was up on a chair again, completely transfixed by the dragon. He put his front paws on the edge of the table and got into crouch mode, ready to spring. “Ah-ah, I don’t think so,” David said, and picked the katt up by the scruff of the neck. He meowed loudly and struggled in his grip, but reserved his worst moment for Eliza. As David turned, the katt hissed and spat at her. She jerked back, looking more confused than frightened.

  David carried Felix across the room, constructed a cage of metal bars, threw the katt into it, and locked the door. Felix hissed and growled and paddled and spat. More worryingly, he kept throwing his head from side to side as if he were quarreling with himself.

  “That katt gives me the creeps,” said Penny, moving to another chair farther from it.

  “Where did you get it?” Eliza asked, staring intently at the cage.

  “Stowaway from Bushley Common,” David answered. He tracked her gaze. “Why, what’s the matter?”

  “The eyes,” she said. “They remind me of someone.”

  “Who?” said Rosa.

  Eliza shook her head. “Forget it. It’s ridiculous. Let’s enjoy our tea
.”

  David pulled up a chair and quickly changed the subject. Pointing at his mother’s sculpture he said, “I’ve seen one of those before.”

  “That’s funny, Penny said the same thing.”

  “Told you,” Penny piped up in triumph. “She wouldn’t believe me,” she said to her brother. “It was in the tunnel, wasn’t it, when we looked through the glass?”

  “Tunnel? Glass?” Rosa lifted her shoulders.

  David briefly explained about animating the Alicia story. How, he wondered, had his mother come to make a dragon just like the ones they had seen? He was still musing on this when Penny cupped her hands around his ear to whisper something.

  “What? No,” he said.

  “Go on,” Penny tutted. “Please, just for me.”

  “We don’t like to imagineer here — unless strictly necessary.”

  Eliza tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “Are there laws against using your fain in the librarium?”

  Rosa said tautly, “Mr. Henry used to say that the contents of the books were this building’s constructs. The words, when read, are a natural form of imagineering.”

  “But words can’t make things move,” Penny argued. (On a shelf to her right a book fell over. She noticed it but rattled on regardless.) “If David makes the dragon read, we can see what’s written in his book, can’t we? Oh, please, David. Do it. For me.”

  “All right,” he said, avoiding Rosa’s eye. “We’ll try it, but I can’t guarantee the results. We should commingle — me and Mom.”

  Eliza smiled. “That would be fun. We used to do it when you were little. Do you remember?”

  “Oh, spare me,” Rosa muttered, under her breath.

  Penny mouthed at her brother, Is she always this grumpy?

  He wagged a finger. Penny sat back and folded her arms.

  “Ready, Mom?”

  “Yes,” she said, closing her eyes. “You do the intending, I’ll support.”

  David focused his gaze onto the dragon.

  In the blink of an eye, it gave itself a shake. This set its scales rattling from top to toe, ending with a ping at the triangle on the tail.

  Penny gave a squeal of delight. Even Rosa, leaning back against the rest room countertop, had to smile when the dragon sneezed a big puff of smoke and blew fine ash across its book. It frowned and busily dusted the pages.