Glass (24 page)

CHAPTER 21

Dwllis and Etwe crouched at the rear door of the Archive of Selene. The glowing crescent sigil was dim. Behind them a sheer glass wall stood, where once plastic and metal sheeting had been. The unaccustomed cold made Dwllis shiver.

‘Which is the grille you pulled off before?’ Etwe asked.

Dwllis tried to remember. It seemed so long. ago. His head had cleared somewhat, but his mind was snoozing. Caught by feelings of uncertainty he began to sense qe’lib’we withdrawal symptoms once again. ‘That one,’ he said firmly, standing up and walking over to the grille he had pointed at. ‘Yes, this one.’ It was pretend decisiveness, but it was enough to mitigate his symptoms.

Etwe joined him and helped him pull away the rusty grille. They slipped into the Archive.

Dwllis recognised the store room that he and Cuensheley had entered, pointing out to Etwe its yellow glowing floor, the pieces of broken plastic crescent, and the only door. ‘Just out there, go left, then down the stairs, and we will be in the research area,’ he instructed Etwe.

She led the way. The Archive was silent, though a faint humming could be heard, as of an engine rumbling far off. Dwllis doubted the place would be empty, but it should at least be quiet.

He had ascertained from Etwe that the Spacefish was presently below the horizon. ‘Soon,’ she had said, ‘it will be only a few hundred miles above the Earth. They say it’ll just hang above the city, as if by magic. The noctechnes claim they’ll shoot it down.’

They crept down the corridor that led to the gnostician room. Dwllis was worried to find the door open, hinges broken, more so when he saw no gnosticians inside, nor any pyuters. ‘Something bad has occurred,’ he said. ‘I hope there hasn’t been a massacre.’

Etwe paused for thought. ‘It’s possible that they were all transported out of the city,’ she suggested.

Dwllis tried to remember what he knew of the augmented gnosticians. ‘I think they said they had no friends outside,’ he whispered.

‘Sshhh!’ hissed Etwe.

Dwllis heard gnostician voices. They followed the corridor down, arriving at a number of cells containing one gnostician each. He saw one that reminded him of Crimson Boney. ‘Speak to that one,’ he urged.

With Etwe translating, Dwllis learned what had happened. ‘The fish-faced man has killed the old high man and assumed his place. All is chaos. The place is feverish with plots. The fish-faced man said we were bad creatures and we must not speak to one another. He had muscle men drag us to these cells. You must let us free!’

Dwllis was tempted. ‘You say Pikeface is the new Lord Archivist of Selene?’

‘Yes. He is a selfish man. He doesn’t act nicely to us. We helped moon folk with their plans, and this is how we are repaid. It is a bad thing.’

Dwllis rattled the doors, but they were steel shod polythene. Too tough. ‘I cannot force these cell doors,’ he said, ‘but we will continue to explore, and maybe find a set of fishtails.’ Experimentally he tried his own, but it did not fit in the lock groove. ‘We will be back, I promise. I tried to fight the purges but I was almost killed for my trouble. Don’t worry, I am on your side.’

‘Hurry back,’ was the gnostician’s only reply.

They explored the remainder of the cell sector, finding nothing. Returning to the main gnostician room, Dwllis paused to look inside, hoping to spot a clue.

A hiss, something whisking by, and he was pulled against the wall. He struggled; he was caught. He looked to his right to see Etwe also caught, although the thin black wires that entangled her had missed one arm and she was trying to struggle free. On the ceiling a full moon, creamy yellow, faded up into brightness, and he looked down at his body to see a tracery of wires binding him to the wall. No hope of escape.

He felt his withdrawal symptoms returning again, but he could not even fidget. All he could do was stamp his feet. ‘Escape, escape!’ he called out to Etwe, since she at least had one arm free.

‘I am trying to pull the cords away,’ Etwe replied.

Bootsteps. Dwllis put all his efforts into shaking himself free, but in vain. He looked to his left to see a solitary woman approaching, an Archivist judging by her white gown and yellow hood.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.

Iquinlass. She pulled the hood from her face.

‘It’s you,’ she repeated.

‘Madam Archivist,’ Dwllis began, ‘we intended no harm–’

‘Dwllis, I need your help urgently.’ Iquinlass slapped at the wall, and with whipping sounds the wires retracted. With a white fishtail she opened a concealed door on the opposite side of the corridor. ‘Quickly,’ she said, gesturing them with windmilling arms into a room.

It was a tiny room, just six feet square, illuminated by a glowing crescent wall-lamp. Inside stood one divan, one rig of pyuters, and a number of plastic incense tripods. Iquinlass shut the door.

They all sat. ‘What’s happened?’ Etwe asked.

Iquinlass addressed Dwllis. ‘I have no choice but to tell you this,’ she began. She was on edge, her face telling of fatigue, her eyes of dismay. ‘Pikeface has assassinated Tierquthay and become Lord Archivist. He went to see the Reeve, but he hasn’t come back yet. There were two factions: Pikeface and Tierquthay; Querhidwe and myself. Now I’m alone and I don’t have any allies, and to make things worse I don’t know the full story. Querhidwe never told me it all.’

‘What story would that be?’ Dwllis asked.

‘The story of you and Pikeface. I don’t know where Pikeface originated from, but I believe you were born here.’

Etwe and Dwllis chorused, ‘Here?’

‘Yes, in this building. I was only a human child from Gaya when you were born, but Querhidwe, she was a pyuton, much older–’

‘But I was
born
here?’ Dwllis said. ‘Why? How? Of whom?’

Iquinlass sighed. ‘I don’t know exactly. Only Querhidwe knew. She carried on the work that her predecessor started. I’ve been trying to find out who – what – Pikeface is, but, well, it’s not easy. You see, we saw something of the future surrounding you two, and that created the two factions; one supporting you, one supporting Pikeface. There were terrible arguments. Anyway, that’s the reason my faction stirred up the lens. We tried to make you see the part of yourself encoded into the fate of Cray. You see, Querhidwe thought that part of your future dead self lay quiescent in the city.’

Dwllis shook his head. ‘I cannot understand even one word of this, madam, not one single word.’ He looked at her, as if by the force of his helpless stare he could wring the answers out of her.

‘I know how you feel,’ Iquinlass said in sincere tones. ‘I feel as if the whole city is on my shoulders. I don’t know what to do. And now you turn up, and force me to act, to tell you...’

She seemed close to tears. Dwllis asked her, ‘Did you know that Querhidwe sent me a silver fishtail?’ He brought it out and held it up on its chain.

Iquinlass stared. Her expression changed from misery to excitement. ‘So that’s what he lost. The liar!’

‘Explain,’ Dwllis demanded.

‘Tierquthay told me he had lost the fishtail of an old box, but I always suspected it was more important than that.’ Iquinlass took the fishtail from Dwllis’ trembling hand and held it under the lunar lamp. ‘This is the activation key of the lunar orb. Look at the fine sigils engraved into it. Querhidwe must have given it to you to thwart the enemy faction.’

‘But what will it do?’

Iquinlass stood. ‘We must find out. It could be crucial.’

‘But–’

‘Pikeface left the orb in the main shrine. Nobody has dared touch it, but if Pikeface isn’t here...’

Through a maze of corridors Iquinlass led them, her pale cloak fluttering, until, having climbed a claustrophobic spiral staircase, they emerged into the auditorium in which Dwllis had attempted to make his address. On the cushion of the central throne, basking in the light thrown by a thousand yellow sequins, lay the orb.

‘We believe it is a relic from the birth of the city,’ Iquinlass said, leading them towards it. ‘I’m not sure I should touch it.’

‘Ordinarily,’ Etwe said, ‘this would never be left by whosoever rightfully held it?’

‘Never. Querhidwe carried it everywhere. So did Tierquthay. It is distilled moonbeams, the very quick of Selene. But Pikeface maybe has other, more important concerns.’

‘Then you must use the fishtail.’

Iquinlass hesitated. Overcome by events, Dwllis sat down to watch.

‘Hurry,’ Etwe said.

At the top of the orb was a narrow slot, into which Iquinlass placed the fishtail. Immediately the orb fell apart into hemispheres, revealing a green fishtail almost the size of a hand. Iquinlass picked it up. With a snap the orb reformed itself.

‘Another fishtail?’ Etwe said.

Iquinlass nodded, then handed it to Dwllis.

‘Querhidwe must have wanted you to have it.’

‘I wonder what it is,’ Dwllis said, closely examining the fishtail.

‘Two factions are struggling,’ Iquinlass said, ‘and there will be one of two outcomes. This fishtail must be a sign from the past.’

‘We struggle in the dark,’ Dwllis observed.

‘We can guess something,’ Etwe said. ‘If Querhidwe knew that the orb never left the hand of its rightful owner, she intended Dwllis to receive this green fishtail when somebody of her own faction was Lord Archivist.’

Iquinlass considered. ‘Or, she arranged that he would receive it under the present conditions.’

‘How could she guess that Pikeface would treat it differently, simply leaving it alone?’

‘She knew Pikeface’s character,’ Iquinlass said.

Dwllis looked up. ‘I think Querhidwe meant it for me to thwart Pikeface.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Iquinlass.

Dwllis shrugged. ‘I just know it. Pikeface grasps something of who I am. He accosted me once in the street and called me his kin.’

‘Then he is ahead of us,’ Iquinlass said, ‘and worse things may yet happen. Come, we had better leave this place, in case he returns.’

They returned to the secret chamber, where Dwllis voiced his desire to free the augmented gnosticians. Iquinlass at first spoke against him, suggesting that it would not be wise to defy Pikeface in this way. A bargain was struck. Iquinlass would set the gnosticians free if Dwllis and Etwe would consent to live in a room off Tode Lane, just behind the Archive; for Iquinlass, now she had found Dwllis, wanted him close by. Dwllis said nothing of his personal circumstances and agreed.

So the gnosticians were freed, leaving the Archive by way of the store room, each heavily cloaked and armed with glass shards in padded hilts.

Iquinlass then led Dwllis and Etwe to the house in Tode Lane. It was narrow, one lower and one upper room, the former full of lunar oddments. ‘You must live up here,’ Iquinlass said, kicking debris to the sides of the dusty room. ‘There isn’t much soundproofing, but the city is quieter, so you probably won’t need ear-muffs.’

Dwllis looked out through a perspex window to the street below. Mixed emotions sobered him, made him fear the future. He said, ‘“Tode” is Old Crayan for death, you know. I wonder if that is an omen.’

‘Calm yourself,’ Etwe said. ‘Omens exist in the minds of the imaginative. We’ll survive here, with Iquinlass’ help.’

‘I had better go,’ Iquinlass said. She pointed to a plastic chest. ‘I keep food and water in there, for my own use. You’d better tuck in.’

‘Will we be found here?’ Dwllis asked.

Iquinlass shrugged. ‘In the event of trouble there is a ladder behind this rear door.’

Having indicated the door, concealed behind cloth hangings, she made to depart.

‘Wait,’ said Dwllis. ‘There is one last point. This predecessor of Querhidwe, who I have been told was known as Seleno – who was she? If we knew what plans she laid we might progress.’

‘She was a gifted pyuton. Seleno was her assumed name, but what her real name was, I don’t know. Once, I remember her calling herself Silverseed, but she would never explain why.’

‘Then she is buried in the Cemetery?’

‘Yes. Her barrow is marked with three symbols, a fishtail of red, a whole fish, and a blue and brown disk marked with wispy, white patterns.’

Dwllis considered this. ‘It seems to me that Seleno knew something of the future. I believe she knew that the moon would transform into the Spacefish long before it happened. I believe she knew something of me, and my fate.’

Iquinlass nodded. ‘That is probable, but still too much is mysterious. The disk is a representation of Gaya, for instance. Why?’

‘Why indeed should she have such a symbol on her barrow, when she was of Selene?’

Iquinlass shrugged. ‘She may have had some connection with Gaya. The bloodied fishtail must be her own personal sigil, the meaning of which we cannot now guess. The whole fish must represent her self.’

Dwllis sighed. ‘Would that the afterlife had not become closed off, which, if the druids are to be believed, is the case. We might have tried to listen for Seleno’s ghostly thoughts.’

Iquinlass departed. Dwllis felt exhausted by the rush of events. His withdrawal symptoms were lessened, and he felt, if not heartened, then at least less desperate. Too tired to think, he lay on a rug and fell asleep, the green fishtail secure underneath his body.

~

He awoke to find Etwe at his side. He looked out across the western parts of the Old Quarter, down to the river. All was glass flecked with ochre, smashed and shattered under the influence of earth tremors. A few lamps gleamed, and the streets themselves were bright, but it was easy to tell where people lived and where luminophages lived. He told Etwe, ‘I must go and meet Subadwan.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

They stepped out into the street. Now that the four aeromorphs were abroad, few Crayans were up and about.

They had not gone far when Dwllis overheard the conversation of two delinquent outers in Broom Street. He stopped to stare at them. One said, ‘What are you gorping at?’

‘Did you just say to your friend that Reeve Umia was dead?’ Dwllis asked.

‘Yer. What of it?’

‘And Pikeface is the new Reeve?’

‘Yer.’

Over and over Dwllis asked himself, how could it be? Only the Lord Archivist of Noct could become Reeve. Was this then the nature of Pikeface, that he was a spy heretic?