Burying the Shadow

by Storm Constantine

  She nodded.

  ‘Good,’ I said, and as an afterthought, offered her a coin.

  Section Three

  Rayojini

  ‘The nodding horror of whose shady brows threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.’

  From ‘Comus’, Milton

  Many memories were brought back to me as I walked in the affluent quarter where the great Sacramantan families had their estates. It was as if my childhood had been but a few days before. I could see my mother’s purposeful stride, her downturned grin. What would she think of me now? I had grown up like her in many ways, yet I lacked her levity and her warmth of personality. Would the Tricantes recognise me?

  The high, stone walls of the Tricante estate seemed sun-worn, soft to the touch. I ran my hand along the stone as I walked slowly towards the elaborate metal gates. Liviana would be married now, of course, and living somewhere else. It was possible one or both of the parents were dead. Who would hold the keys to the house now? A withered Zimon, moulded into a respectable shape, a version of his father? The elder sister Agnestia, a spinster and dressed in lace? And what of Salyon - did he still live at home? I smiled at my fanciful conjectures and pulled the bell rope at the gate.

  A haughty retainer came to peer at me through the curling metal patterns. He waited for me to speak, and I was relieved I had dressed myself in one of my new dresses with a smart embroidered jacket. I did not look in the least unsavoury. ‘Good afternoon,’ I began in my most ingratiating tone. ‘My name is Rayojini. I am a soulscaper from Taparak and an old friend of the Tricante family. I would be most grateful if you would allow me to request an audience with the lady of the house.’

  I expected further demands for explanation, but the granite planes of the servant’s face dissolved into an avuncular smile. ‘Good afternoon, Mistress Rayojini. Forgive me not recognising you, but you are a little early.’

  ‘Am I? For what?’

  He laughed in reply. I was not aware of having made a joke. ‘Follow me to the garden, if you please.’

  I held my skirts up daintily in pinched fingers and minced unconvincingly behind him.

  ‘Your journey, I trust, was comfortable,’ he said, over his shoulder.

  ‘No, a nightmare,’ I replied.

  He flapped a hand in the air and laughed heartily. I was confused, and also anticipated an unwelcome revelation. They were expecting me here.

  And there were the Tricantes, arranged on garden seats, beneath a trellis denuded of flowers. The men all rose to a sharp stand as I entered through a bower gate; the women turned towards me with smiling faces. I felt totally disorientated; this was so unexpected. The servant announced me in a loud and important voice, and an attractive, dark-haired woman jumped up and came scurrying towards me over the grass, in a froth of yellow lace and ribbons.

  ‘Rayo, little Rayo!’ she exclaimed and smothered me in a startling embrace, filling my face with her perfume and stiffly curled hair.

  ‘Liviana!’ I said. ‘I had not expected to find you here!’

  She held me at arm’s length. ‘Rayo! Did you think I wouldn’t come to see you? We had such fun all those years ago. I missed you afterwards for, oh, so long!’ She led me across the garden to her family. ‘Of course, I have a house of my own now. You must meet my children! Are you married, Rayo, do you have a family?’

  ‘No. Excuse me, Livvy, but were you... well… expecting me?’

  She looked puzzled. ‘Yes, of course. We received your message yesterday.’

  I stopped walking and looked hard at this grand woman who had once been a girlhood friend. We had not known each other very long, but our friendship had been intense and intimate for all its brevity. I felt I had to trust her. ‘Livvy, I would very much like to talk with you alone before I meet your family.’

  ‘Why?’ Her tone implied she was not pleased for this undercurrent to mar her perfectly planned afternoon.

  ‘Because I did not send you a message telling you I was coming. Because I did not know for sure I was going to be here in Sacramante at all until very recently. Someone is doing things in my name, Livvy, dogging my footsteps. They got to you before I did.’

  Liviana’s mouth had dropped open. ‘Rayo, this sounds so terribly sinister! What do you mean?’

  ‘I know how it sounds, but it is the truth, Livvy,’ I gabbled urgently. ‘I’m sorry to have to burden you with this, but it is very important. I have to talk to you.’

  Liviana controlled herself. Now she wore the face of a mother; concerned and competent. ‘We will talk. This is most disturbing. But I feel it would be better if you put your chin up and, for now, pretended it was you who sent us the message. Come and say hello to everyone.’

  ‘Livvy...’ I did not really feel like socialising.

  Liviana patted my arm. ‘Trust me, Rayo. We will share a light refreshment and then I will suggest we go off somewhere for a little girl-talk. How will that do?’

  ‘Thank you. Yes. You are right.’

  She hung onto my arm as we crossed the last few yards of lawn, as if she feared I’d break away and run from her at any minute.

  Both Tricante parents were still alive. The mother had wizened into a hook-nosed matron, whereas the father had thickened, although he still held a semblance of his former handsomeness. The only person who had turned out as I had imagined was Agnestia; an archetypal spinster and dressed in lace. The cousins were no longer in residence, but the younger sons were still unmarried and at home. Almero was a couple of years older than me, with the face of a seasoned libertine. Salyon was a grave, ethereal-looking creature of maybe thirty years whose hands shook continually. He and I nodded at each other in a faintly embarrassed way, as if we shared some shameful secret. Zimon too had come home to welcome me and had brought his family with him; a round, pretty, dark-haired wife and a boisterous toddling son. Liviana was not escorted by her husband, but lost no time in impressing me with how wonderful he was, such a fortunate catch, so rich. She had brought her children though - two of them - sharp-eyed and intelligent. I did not like them at all. Sitting there, with a tiny glass of cordial clutched in a hand more used to earthenware jugs of murky beer, I was thinking about how alien a concept the family - as it was presented here - was to me. I found it oppressive and clammy, nothing more than a breeding ground for spite and intrigue. Barbed comments flew between the women; sarcastic, nasal remarks between the men. In my family, the members wander in and out of Taparak all the time. It is rare we get the opportunity to meet together, but when we do it is an enjoyable experience; this seemed a far preferable arrangement. Today, the Tricantes had put on their best faces because they had a visitor to impress. The spiked bantering was supposed to be humorous. I suspected things were not always as convivial, having noticed the feral glances of mutual loathing that passed between Livvy and her brother’s wife. Livvy had slipped into the mechanical role of perfect hostess, eclipsing her rather vague mother, and I had no doubt that she had purposefully forgotten the urgent, furtive things I had whispered to her as we walked across the lawn. I would not have been surprised had she neglected to talk to me alone at all.

  However, my judgment of her was harsh because, after an hour of aimless prattle, she graciously rose from her seat, placed a maternal hand on the head of each of her brats and said, ‘Now then everyone, you must forgive us, but Rayojini and I simply have to bustle off for a gossip together.’

  She linked her arm through mine and yanked me to my feet, shooting a particularly poisonous glance at her sister-in-law, who clearly envied Livvy’s long-standing association and apparent friendship with a soulscaper. The matriarch made me vow I would stay for dinner before she would let Livvy cart me away.

  ‘Don’t be antisocial for too long!’ the sister-in-law said with an impish grin, as if it was a joke.

  ‘You hate her, don’t you,’ I couldn’t resist saying, once we were out of earshot.

  I expected Livvy to ask me what I meant by that, but as we left the compan
y, the Livvy of old, (who I had rather liked), seemed to well up from deep inside her. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Vile little beast!’ she said. ‘A good breeder, no doubt, strong of hip. Zimon has hundreds of affairs, I should think - at least, I hope so. She is an ensorcelled rat. One day I shall break the enchantment and she’ll scurry off on her belly again.’

  We both laughed. ‘Imagine, Livvy, if you picked your moment!’ I said, and we fell to giggling as lewd scenarios presented themselves to our imaginations.

  ‘You look very much like your mother now,’ Livvy said as she led me into the shaded interior of the house. ‘I would have known you anywhere. How is she?’

  ‘Dead,’ I replied.

  ‘Rayo, you are terrible. How can you say it like that?’

  ‘Because I’m glad, that’s why.’

  ‘But that’s awful. Didn’t you love her, didn’t you get on?’

  ‘Of course we did, and I do love her. It’s because of that I’m glad she’s dead. She died before she got old. She’d have hated being old. She would have been miserable.’

  ‘Hmm, perhaps I can understand that. Still, you Taps have very strange ideas sometimes. I hope I live to two hundred! Why haven’t you any children, Rayo?’

  ‘Because I enjoy my life as it is.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘No buts, Livvy. You love your life, I love mine. I wouldn’t expect you to wander on foot across the world. Do you see?’

  She gave my arm a little shake. ‘You are so strange! So exotic!’ She laughed as we walked into her mother’s sitting room. ‘Promise me, you’ll try to seduce Zimon while you’re here!’

  ‘Livvy, really!’ We giggled again, like girls. Amazing. We were so different, yet the interval of years was meaningless. It was as if we’d seen each other every day since then. Very few friendships have this magic.

  ‘So, tell me everything,’ she said, pushing me gently into a seat. ‘Brandy?’

  I nodded, shifting my weight. Now, I didn’t know how to begin. It was going to sound ridiculous, however I put it. ‘Livvy, some very strange things have been happening to me.’

  She laughed. ‘Look at you! You’re such a rogue! You don’t look at all comfortable in that dress, but then you never were a person for frills, were you. Strange things? I am not surprised!’ She sat down on a chair nearby and handed me a glass. ‘What things?’

  I turned the glass in my hands. ‘Some of what I’m going to say, you might not understand, because it involves scaping work and I’ll have to use scaping terms.’

  ‘Just tell me. I can always ask questions afterwards.’

  I was as vague as I thought I could get away with. I spoke a little of how I thought I might have discovered the existence of a very old race, who for reasons of their own, had been interfering in the lives of people in Khalt, and perhaps even further afield.

  ‘It sounds outrageous, I know,’ I said, grinning at Liviana, whose face had remained oddly expressionless throughout my narrative, ‘but I believe someone is following me now, someone who has perhaps tailed me from the Strangeling itself!’

  Liviana straightened the folds of her dress, head bowed. She did not respond. I assumed she was questioning my sanity.

  ‘I am not mad, Livvy,’ I said.

  She looked up at me then, and smiled at me tightly. ‘Of course you’re not. I’m not sure how I can help you though...’

  ‘I’m just so relieved to have found you here, Livvy,’ I said. ‘I need someone to discuss all this with. I’m not sure what to do. Half of me wants to continue the investigation, while a more sensible half urges that I should return to Taparak. I wanted to establish contacts in the city, so that it would be more difficult for someone to make me... disappear. However, it seems whoever is shadowing me has a cruel sense of humour, sending you a message like that. It’s so threatening. They’re telling me they know everything I’m planning to do.’

  Liviana made no comment but, with terrific poise, got up out of her chair to enfold me in a fierce embrace. I thought she really must consider me insane and was comforting me in the only way she knew how. Neither of us spoke, and yet I could feel the weight of unspoken words in Liviana’s chest, as if they hung inside my own. I wondered what it would take to convince her I wasn’t losing my mind.

  ‘You poor thing,’ she said after a while, disengaging herself. ‘How terrible to be followed like that!’ She had obviously simplified the situation in her head in order to understand it. That was fine by me.

  ‘Livvy, the woman who visited the inns looks like an artisan. If that is her true form, it could mean she’s a native of Sacramante, couldn’t it?’

  Liviana looked wary and turned away from me. ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘Oh come on! The term ‘artisan’ generally refers to a creative individual, resident in this city and connected with one of the ancient family lines associated with the arts. At least, when a Sacramantan refers to someone as being an artisan that is what they mean. Correct me if I’m wrong.’

  Liviana sat down again and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘It’s not wrong, but...’ She sighed. ‘There are artisans all over the world, Rayo.’

  ‘Of course there are, but not like the Sacramantan ones.’ It was as if someone had just lit a torch in the darkest corners of my mind. For a moment, I was back at the theatre in Livvy’s company, surrounded by the tall, pale artisans. Why hadn’t I considered this before? They were different to other Sacramantans, radically so. I leapt to my feet. ‘By all the gods! Yes!’

  Liviana’s hand fluttered nervously to her throat. ‘What is it?’

  I spoke so quickly, my words were little more than a gabble. ‘Livvy, who are the artisans? Years ago, you told me they were exiles, or something like that, that they had no country of their own... Could it be that they are descended from the race I’m talking about?’

  I’d been so busy trying to make up excuses about my obsession with the Metatronims that I had overlooked the obvious.

  ‘Why are the artisans so special, Livvy? Why do they live hidden away from everyone else in their own quarters? Do they have any political power?’

  Liviana held up her hands and shook her head, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. ‘Rayo, Rayo, sit down and stop shouting. You are making me dizzy!’

  I sat. ‘Well?’

  She composed herself and folded her hands neatly in her lap. ‘Well, first of all, you have no proof that the mysterious woman you were told about is actually an artisan. Personally, I doubt it very much.’

  ‘I think I know who it was,’ I said recklessly. ‘And, if I’m right, she is definitely an artisan.’

  ‘Who?’ Her voice was very small. I could see I had frightened her.

  ‘Gimel Metatronim,’ I said. I still wasn’t really sure of that myself, but hoped to provoke a reaction from Liviana.

  ‘Gimel?’ Livvy shook her head. ‘No, that’s impossible!’

  ‘Why? Is she dead?’

  Livvy shook her head and made a helpless gesture. ‘No, far from it. It’s just that she wouldn’t do a thing like that. Why should she?’

  ‘Why? Livvy, listen to me. A long time ago, when I was here before, the Metatronims affected me deeply.’ I laughed in embarrassment. ‘I dreamed I was raped by Beth, here in this house.’

  ‘Rayo!’ Livvy too couldn’t repress a nervous laugh.

  ‘But it is more than that. All my life, ever since that visit, the Metatronims have haunted me. It might be a coincidence, but now, I’m no longer sure. As to why Gimel might be tormenting me, the answer is obvious. If my suppositions are correct, I’ve discovered something about the artisans, or their ancestors, which they want to keep quiet. Their history! Livvy, it makes sense. There is evidence that, in the distant past, a race of people lived in the Strangeling who I believe oppressed the people of Khalt - perhaps even Bochanegra - in some way. They were driven out. These people are represented in some ancient art I came across as being very tall and pale, as being teachers of art and science.
Now, you can’t deny the artisans fit that description quite well. Some very odd things are happening in Khalt, which I believe are connected with this ancient race. Will you answer my questions about the artisans? Please! You can see that it’s very important.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Livvy said. ‘The artisans are respected and powerful. You can’t say these terrible, wild things about them!’

  ‘Look,’ I said, taking a deep breath to calm myself. Upsetting Liviana further would gain me nothing. ‘If you answer my questions, perhaps we can eliminate the artisans from my theories.’

  Liviana sighed, and rubbed her forehead. She would not look at me. ‘I can’t answer your questions, Rayo,’ she said. ‘I really can’t. It is... forbidden.’

  ‘Then I’m right, aren’t I,’ I said softly. I leaned back in my chair, blinking at the ceiling, letting my heart slow down.

  For a few minutes, neither of us said a word. Everything was coming into focus; everything. All I had to do was discover why the predators were preying again. Now that I felt I was getting somewhere with my investigations, the urge to delve deeper was upon me again. I had to remind myself of how I had resolved not to tackle this problem alone. I perhaps had enough information now; it was precious. I must get it, and myself, back to Taparak intact.

  ‘Livvy,’ I said. ‘There is one question you must be able to answer. A simple yes or no will suffice. The artisans are different from the rest of us, aren’t they; very different.’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ Livvy shouted abruptly, making me flinch. She leapt to her feet. ‘They are different, they are exiles but, Rayo, they are not... hostile! I know that none of them would have done the things you’ve talked about, really I do.’ She seemed on the verge of tears. ‘It must be a coincidence... They did not come from the Strangeling...’

  I stood up and took her arms in my hands. ‘Livvy, please. Don’t get upset. Perhaps you are right, but I have to find out one way or the other. People have been hurt, you see. I can’t just ignore this.’