End of the World Blues (27 page)

“Dress like what?” Neku demanded.

“You know.” Luc flapped a hand. “All this black. And that shirt.”

“What about it?”

“It’s…” He shrugged, then flapped his hand again. Lady Neku guessed he meant to indicate the rips. Luc went red every time he got embarrassed.
I mean,
she thought,
how stupid a modification was that?

Lady Neku wore a skirt of crumpled silk ripped to show the layers beneath. The skirt was old and had been spun by tiny worms fed on starlight, or so her mother said. It fluoresced in the daylight, but wear it at night and it became darker than the deepest shadow, a mere absence of light wrapped around the person inside.

It had been Lady Neku’s favourite, until she mentioned this to her mother and Lady Katchatka had replied, dismissively, that she’d also loved it at her daughter’s age. Now Lady Neku hated it, but continued to wear the garment to stop her mother from knowing the effect of those words.

Anyway, it was not the skirt that bothered Luc, nor the
niello
bangles and memory beads around Lady Neku’s wrists, it was her top. “It’s okay,” said Lady Neku. “You can stare. Everybody else does.”

“Everybody?”

“Nico, Antonio, and Petro.”

When Luc bit his bottom lip it made Lady Neku wonder what she’d said. And that was enough to push her into considering his question carefully. It was only after she’d dragged Luc to a tiny waterfall and sat him beside her on the grass that Lady Neku wondered if his unworldly innocence were some weird double bluff, designed to manipulate her into telling him the truth. If so, then she was impressed, because it was working.

“What?” Luc said.

“Nothing,” said Lady Neku. “I’m just not used to talking to people. So you’ll have to listen carefully.”

“To what?”

“My reasons. Why I wear black.”

“I understand it’s the Katchatka colour,” said Luc. “It’s the way you all dress. You know, it’s just the…” A shake of his head, then one hand went up to rub his eyes.

If he’d only get his mouth fixed,
thought Lady Neku,
he’d be almost good looking.
Pulling up her knees, she twisted her skirt decorously around her ankles and rested her chin on her hands.

Lady Neku was thinking.

“Okay,” she said. “It goes like this…My mother likes torn clothes because they look good on her and my brothers dress the same because they follow my mother’s example. I wear this shirt because it renders me invisible to them…”

Lady Neku held up a hand, stilling Luc’s question. “Let me finish,” she said. “The rips are house style. If I dressed as neatly as you I’d be making an exhibition of myself. Does that make sense?”

Sitting back, Lady Neku lowered her knees and unfolded her arms. “What do you see when you look at me?” she demanded.

His blush was her answer.

“Exactly,” said Lady Neku.

“That’s how you make yourself invisible?” Luc said softly. He nodded, then nodded again, considering her words. “But I still don’t understand. Who are you hiding from?”

It took Lady Neku ninety minutes to explain to Luc the background, history, and internal politics of her family. And at the end, all he said was, “You’re hiding from the lot of them?”

And when she scowled, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I can see how that might work.”

Sweeping hair from his eyes, Nico slashed through the air and a dozen invisible enemies died beneath his flurry of blows, then a dozen more as he dropped, swept low with a particularly lethal cut, and danced away across the duelling room. When he finally came to a standstill in front of Lady Neku, his brothers, and Luc, he’d barely broken sweat.

“Sweet,” he said. Nico was talking about the blade.

“Let me try,” said Petro.

Nico shook his head.

“Come on,” Petro said. “It’s not even yours.”

“It is now,” said Nico. “I found it. Go find your own.”

But Petro wouldn’t, because that meant going to the surface, tracking down an object of value, and then wresting it from the original owner. And Petro grew sick simply thinking about surface dwellers and the plagues they carried. Not something that worried Nico, who time and again had returned with blood splattering his arms. “Here…” Nico tossed the
katana
to Luc, all three brothers grinning as Luc fumbled his catch. “You can borrow it,” said Nico. “I’m sure Petro would be delighted to fight you.”

Petro scowled, mainly because Luc got to try the blade and not him. Which, obviously enough, was why Nico gave Luc the
katana
in the first place. Lady Neku’s family could be very predictable.

“I’m not that good,” said Luc, as he tried the
katana
for balance. He was rewarded with a laugh from Nico.

“Have a go, anyway.”

“Okay,” he said. Turning in a circle, with the
katana
held far too tightly to give him the fluidity he’d require, Luc practised a dozen of the simplest blocks and finished up facing Petro.

“What are the rules?” Luc asked.

Petro grinned. “This is Katchatka,” he said. “There are no rules. At least, not about things like this. You should know that if you’re going to marry my sister.”

“So how do you score?”

Petro glanced at his brothers, who rolled their eyes rather more obviously than was necessary. “Two people fight,” Petro said. “One wins. How hard can that be to mark?”

It was time for Lady Neku to get involved. The question was how? Since coming up with a complex and emotionally satisfying answer would take longer than she had, Lady Neku chose the simplest option. Pushing herself away from the wall, she marched across to Luc and held out her hand.

“Let me see,” she said.

Luc did as he was told.

“Nice balance,” said Lady Neku, cutting air. “Very nice indeed…” Luc was still busy admiring Lady Neku’s sword play, when she spun away from him and slashed the blade hard towards her brother.

As Petro brought up his own blade to block her blow, Lady Neku twisted sideways, reversed her
katana
in one fluid move, and struck fast and hard, its blade actually cutting her skirt as its point lanced out behind her.

“Fuck,” said Petro, only just stepping back in time. He looked shocked.

“You’ve been practising,” Nico said, his voice amused.

Lady Neku nodded.

“Okay,” said Nico, “my go.”

So Lady Neku tossed him the sword. The spin she put on the handle made the blade difficult to catch, but Nico caught it all the same. He grinned at his sister, nodded once to Luc, and swept hair out of his own eyes.

“Why doesn’t he just get it cut?” whispered Luc.

“Because then he wouldn’t be able to flick it back.” Lady Neku sighed. Surely Luc could see how the floppiness of Nico’s hair was reflected in the ruffles of his shirt and the wide hem to his trousers?

“Ready?” asked Nico.

Mouth sullen, Petro nodded. What had begun as fun at Luc’s expense had turned into fun at his own. “Of course I’m ready,” he said. Stepping forward, Petro swung his blade a couple of times and then stepped back. As Nico moved forward to begin his own warm up, Petro aimed a heavy-handed side slash that would have severed Nico’s leg had it met flesh.

Nico blocked the cut with a smile.

Except, by then, Petro had launched the moves he really wanted to make. A quick reverse, a feint to the head, and then the blow itself. Straight at Nico’s throat.

“Idiot,” said Lady Neku.

Springing aside, Nico let the
katana
pass, before sinking his own point deep into Petro’s chest. As his elder brother opened his mouth, in something half way between pain and astonishment, Nico yanked his blade sideways, severing his brother’s heart. Blood went everywhere.

“Nico!”

It was too late. By the time Lady Neku reached Petro’s side his eyes were unfocussed and his pulse had stopped. “Mother’s going to be furious.”

“He started it,” said Nico, suddenly sounding like the boy he was.

“Like that will make a difference.”

“Well, he did.” Wiping his blade, Nico returned it to the scabbard.

Lady Neku sighed. “You know what Mother’s like about hurting Petro’s feelings.”

“Feelings?”
said Luc.

Nico nodded. “Petro is the oldest,” he said. “So we’re not meant to make fun of him. It makes my mother upset.” Nico paused. “That’s bad,” he added, as if this might be news to Luc. “The problem is Petro’s just rubbish at everything…”

“I suppose,” said Antonio, glancing at the blood, “we’d better get this cleared up before anyone sees it.”

But Lady Neku was one step ahead of them both. Dropping to a crouch, she stroked the tiles next to Petro’s body until they began to sag and opened into a body-sized hole. “I’ll let you two finish off.”

“Okay.” Nico nodded. “Come on,” he told Antonio. “Let’s get it over with.” Walking across to where Petro lay, Nico and Antonio began to roll him into the hole.

“You’ll get him back in two days,” said Lady Neku.

“What…”

“That’s good,” she said. “I had to negotiate to get it done that fast. The
kami
are working full out on tomorrow night.”

For once her brothers didn’t mock her. “Oh fuck,” said Antonio. “Mother’s party.”

She watched Nico and Antonio glance at each other.

“He’ll miss the wedding banquet,” said Nico.

“I know,” said Lady Neku.

“Mother’s going to be furious.”

Lady Neku nodded. “You should have thought about that before you killed him…”

Time was spherical, layered within itself, each layer actually a sphere when expanded into three dimensions, although it looked like two when seen from any perspective beyond four, most layers being climbed using a basic Einstein-Rosen bridge.

“Got it so far?” asked Neku.

Kit shook his head. The girl sat against the head board of Mary’s bed, still wrapped in his
yukata
. Her shoulder was pressed into his arm and her eyes were shut. Neku smelled of soap, shampoo, and Marmite; the last being what Kit had put on the toast he made her.

He’d made toast because Neku began crying and he wanted to give her privacy. Which either constituted cowardice or compassion. Kit could waste time later trying to work out which.

“Okay,” said Kit. “But what’s all this got to do with being upset?”

“Everything,” said Neku.

Settling herself, she brushed crumbs from her chin and started to sketch a jerky spiral in the air with one finger. “This is time,” she said. “Enormously simplified and seen from a different perspective. Think of it as steps circling a central well. Unfortunately the stairs only go in one direction.”

“Why?” asked Kit.

Neku sighed. “Because they do,” she said. “My brother said time is an infinite number of doors forever locking behind you.” Which showed what he knew.

“And what’s at the top?”

“For me,” said Neku, “Nawa-no-ukiyo. The floating rope world. Everything else has gone.” She nodded towards Kit’s window. “All of those stars,” she said. “They’ve shifted, the moon’s been segmented, and the gas giants drained for fuel. It was the Great White,” she added. “Everything that could be used was, to help humanity reach the other side.”

Neku spoke with such conviction that Kit found himself nodding. What she said was impossible. Worse than that, it was largely incomprehensible. But Neku believed it and that made it real for her. Kit had lived for long enough inside his own dreams to recognise someone else’s…

No one should have to carry the ends of time or that quantity of dark dead space inside them. Without thinking, he hugged the child close and felt her hesitate, then snuggle closer to his shoulder.

“Finish your toast,” said Kit.

She chewed in silence.

“Thing is,” said Neku, when her mouth was empty. “You only see this many stars because we’re in your light cone. Even then, about a fifth of those are already dead. Nico says stars shift with time, until distance begins to look like absence.”

Kit nodded.

“And I’m not really sure why earth was chosen.”

“For what?”

“To house all the fugees. Because it was empty, I guess. A planet without a people for a people without a planet.” Neku sighed. “It probably seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Together Kit and Neku watched the sky beyond his window get lighter and the stars, already faded by the city’s sodium glare, fade further, until they vanished into the perfect upturned bowl of an early summer morning.

Kit thought Neku was dozing until she suddenly spoke again. “Okay,” she said. “What are we doing today?”

“I’m seeing Patrick Robbe-Duras,” said Kit. “To show him Mary’s key. Pat says he doesn’t remember Mary owning a trunk but I can take a look anyway.”

“Can Charlie come too?”

Kit was about to say,
But I’m going alone
…and then decided to save himself the argument.

Quite why Pat expected Kit and Charlie to mow the lawn while Neku sorted buttons from a button box was never explained. Although by the end of the afternoon the grass was trimmed, raked, and mowed and all of the buttons collected by Mary as a small child had been sorted by size and type.

As a reward, Pat gave them tea on the freshly cut lawn. Charlie set up a wooden picnic table and Neku carried the china. She would have made the sandwiches, but Pat insisted on making those himself, somewhat crossly.

“He’s tired,” said Kit.

“No,” said Neku. “He’s dying.”

When Pat returned he found Neku and Charlie crouched by the river. Charlie was feeding digestive biscuits to the ducks, though every now and then he’d dip a finger into the water to take a bit of weed that Neku indicated. Just as Neku would discard a pebble from her mouth to taste another, when she found one she liked better.

Neither looked up when Pat got back.

“I’ve upset them,” said Pat, putting a plate of cucumber sandwiches on the rickety picnic table. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Kit. “You’re tired. Neku understands that.”

“Talked about me, did you?”

At Kit’s nod, Pat sighed. “People have been talking about me my entire life. Well, about Katie really. Speaking of which, she called yesterday to say you’d be in contact about some bloody key. So I told her you’d been in contact already.” He shrugged. “Not sure if Katie was angry about my already knowing or glad you were pushing on with finding Mary.”