The Mortal Knife (23 page)

Morta was working. She had her back to the stairwell, all her focus on the Tapestry of Lights. In one hand she held a long, thin hook; in the other the Mortal Knife. She was staring at a patch of lights in Europe. As Adam watched she raised the hand with the hook and the lights in the Tapestry got brighter; so bright that Adam had to turn away, spots dancing across his vision. When he was able to look again he could see that most of the lights had dimmed down, leaving only the palest, weakest lights. Morta lifted both arms and her body simply left the chamber floor. Adam felt his jaw go slack as she hovered in mid-air, leaning forward with the hook and catching a thread. She pulled it away from the Tapestry and with one quick movement the Mortal Knife darted forward and cut the thread. She used the hook to tease out the ends and they fluttered to the floor. Their glow faded away in seconds.

Someone had just died. They were probably in Spain, judging by the position on the ‘map'. Even now, a Luman would be on their way to the scene to guide the soul into his or her Light. The only blessing was that the soul in question probably wasn't too shocked. Their thread had been wan and flickering. They were either very old or very sick. Either way, they probably knew they were dying. Was that better or worse?
Maybe they had a long and happy life. Maybe they were tired and ready to go. Maybe they were pleased when they saw a Luman waiting for them.
Older souls found it easier to shuck away their physical life. In the Hinterland they instinctively returned to the age they felt inside, not the age they saw reflected in the mirror. They didn't cling to the bodies they had finally been freed from.

Morta was working with speed now, dipping and lunging, rising and falling in a strange, graceful dance. Thread upon thread met the tip of the Mortal Knife and darkened. There was no malice in what she was doing; she was simply being a professional. For the first time Adam could see some quality in her that helped explain why she had been chosen as a Fate. She was skilful and delicate and she worked quickly and carefully, never taking the wrong soul.

But just as Adam might have found some admiration she turned her attention to the Kingdom of Britain. Her body language changed. Adam could see her tension as she hovered in front of the tiny knot of lights. The rest of the Tapestry dimmed and this time the threads she was seeking were bright and strong, glowing with fire. She slashed with the knife almost carelessly and three people died, two in the south and one in the north, every one of them in the prime of their life.

There was a viciousness there that made Adam flinch. He drew in a sharp breath and clapped his hand to his mouth, trying to take the sound back – but Morta had heard it. Far from seeming alarmed she laughed and didn't bother turning round. ‘Don't be shy, Darian. I thought you would be happy with what I left for you downstairs. Did you like my little gift?'

Adam scowled and stepped up into the chamber. ‘You have crap taste in presents.'

Morta turned sharply and dropped to the floor in one movement. When she saw Adam her eyes opened wide and he had the satisfaction of seeing the shock register on her face – if only for a second. She recovered swiftly. ‘You.' She studied Adam for a moment and shook her head, her face twisted, caught somewhere between a smile and a frown. ‘This I did not see. You. The quiet one. The
clumsy
one.' She studied him for a long moment, then started to laugh. ‘No wonder my new pet seemed so surprised. I didn't believe him but it seems he was telling the truth.'

‘Let my brother go home. He didn't do anything.' Adam was trying to sound brave and calm and in control, like someone with a plan – but he could hear the faint quiver in his voice.

Judging by her smile Morta could hear it too. ‘I think I'm going to keep him. He was flattered by my invitation at first. Maybe he'll forgive me when I explain it was a mix-up. Maybe I can make it up to him before I kill him.' She smiled. ‘Maybe I should keep
you
a little while too.'

Adam couldn't help staring at her. She was so beautiful. Even now he could see that – her eyes, her mouth, her hair, the curve of her hips. Her beauty was like a cloak, covering the darkness inside her. He could feel himself responding to her, lethal though she was. For Luc, who loved a challenge, it was like a moth dancing helplessly into a flame. Thinking about his brother helped him to focus; remember why he had come. ‘You don't deserve to be a Fate.

‘I don't
deserve
it?' Morta frowned. ‘Why is that? Because I'm a woman? Because I was poor?'

‘Of course not!' Adam was stung into answering her. ‘You don't deserve it because you're evil! You're a psychopath! You kill people you don't have to kill. Heinrich told you that you didn't have to take all of your quota – but you do. And you're taking them all from Britain! It's not fair!'

Morta moved fast. One moment she was by the Tapestry of Lights; the next she was in front of him, her hand gripping his throat, nails digging into his skin. She was taller than him but he could see the fury in her eyes. ‘It's not fair,' she whined, mocking him. Her laughter was harsh. ‘Do you think it is
fair
that you were born a boy? A Mortson? Is it fair that you, who breaks our laws and can barely swoop, has a vault full of Keystones? Is it
fair
that my father – a Luman, just like yours – lived in a
favela
and could barely feed us? That I could not get betrothed because no one wanted a Luman from a
minor
family? Do you think anything in this world is fair,
child
?' She pushed him away and Adam coughed and gagged. He watched her move back towards the Tapestry of Lights through watery eyes. She was talking almost to herself now. ‘I was a seamstress and a slave but look at me now. I made a new life. And now I am going to take yours.'

Adam thought at lightning speed.
She doesn't know I've been here with Clotho; that I know how things work here. So I need the knife and I need it to stay in my hand and I need it NOW!

There was a shocked cry and the Mortal Knife flew from Morta's hand. Adam barely had time to splay his fingers and catch it. The hilt was woven with fine silver and gold and the metal threads peeled away from the hilt and wrapped around his hand, lashing the knife against his palm. He held the knife up, trying to keep his hand from shaking. ‘You're not going to take anyone's life. Ever again.'

To his dismay, rather than looking afraid, Morta cocked her head to one side and studied him. ‘You've been here with someone else.' Her lip curled. ‘I know it was her. I'll deal with her later.'

‘Let my brother go home,' Adam said again, trying to buy some time. ‘And stop killing people in Britain. Just go back to normal. The way things were before.'

Morta shook her head and looked at him almost pityingly. ‘I don't take orders from men any more. Or boys. Least of all those who rob me of the souls that are rightfully mine.' She swept her hand towards the Tapestry behind her. Mocking him. ‘What are you going to do, Adam? Are you going to cut my thread? Are you going to
end
me? Please, go ahead. I give you leave to try. You have a one in seven billion chance of finding me.'

‘I could kill you.' It sounded like a lie even to his own ears.

‘You could.' Morta nodded. ‘Just like that.' She snapped her fingers. ‘You could put the knife between my breasts and slide it into my heart. Is that what you want to do?'

She was moving towards him. Adam held the Mortal Knife up, the point facing her. ‘Don't come any closer,' he said but his voice was weak.

Morta smiled and kept walking. She moved so close that he could feel her breath on his face, smell an exotic, cloying perfume. He could feel the knife pressing against her breastbone. When she spoke she sounded almost kind. ‘Are you going to Mark me, boy? Make me a Luman?'

He wasn't going to kill her. How could he ever have thought he could kill her? Adam stared at her mutely, hating her.

Her voice was soft and sinuous. ‘It's not easy to do what I do, is it Adam? So easy to talk of killing someone, of cutting a thread. Not so easy when they are looking in your eyes. You don't have what it takes to do this – but I do.'

She turned suddenly and moved away, before Adam realised what was happening. At the same time she lifted one hand and made a summoning gesture. The wires around the knife snapped back sharply, lashing Adam's hand and wrist and he cried out as thin weals of blood sprang up on his skin. The knife hurtled through the air into Morta's hand. She was talking as she walked, never missing a beat. ‘I'm bored of you now. It's time for you to step into your Light, little Luman. Your brother and your father will follow.' She paused and turned back to him, tapping the knife against her lips. ‘Maybe I should let your eldest brother live. At least he can feed the women. I know what it is to starve. I don't like to see the women go hungry because their men have failed them. First your uncle, now your father and brother. Of course the shame will probably kill your mother anyway.' She shrugged and made for the Tapestry.

‘Stop.' The voice rang with authority. Adam turned his head almost as fast as Morta did. Clotho was very calm. ‘Enough now. This has gone too far.'

‘Greetings,
sister
. What a pleasant surprise.' Morta's face transformed, her smile becoming a snarl. ‘I should have seen your busy hand in all of this. I didn't think you would take such a chance with one of your precious souls. I'm impressed you could be so ruthless. Maybe you should have been the thread-cutter, not the spinner.'

‘Enough, sister.' Clotho seemed to be struggling to find the right words. ‘This has been a mistake – all of it. You cannot remain here but I do not wish to shame you. I know the pride in your soul. I know the pride you brought to your family. So  …  now it is time. Revoke your service. Go into your Light with honour.'

‘You think I will walk away? That I will cut my thread after everything I endured to get here?' Morta laughed. ‘You're a crazy old woman. Maybe we need more new blood around here.'

‘I am giving you a choice. There is always a choice. Take it. Revoke your service and walk into your Light.' Clotho was pleading.

‘
I
think it's time
your
service was revoked.' Morta pointed the Mortal Knife up high, to where the lights began to give way to the uninhabited darkness of the Poles. ‘Sweden, yes? Just outside Stockholm. Ah, there you are!' One light shone out amidst the teeming mass of souls; a clear light that burned like white fire.

Clotho closed her eyes. She looked unimaginably sad. Adam watched her, horrified.
She's going to die! She's going to just let Morta kill her and then there'll be no one to stop her!
He wanted to call out and beg Clotho to do something, anything at all to save them. Not just him; not just his family – but the whole world.

Then Clotho's eyes snapped open. ‘I am sorry it has come to this, sister,' she said softly.

Morta seemed to know what was going to happen a split second before it unfolded. She launched herself into the air, the Mortal Knife heading straight for Clotho's thread – but the knife and its owner both fell to the ground. Morta threw herself at the blade and managed to grab it but as she stumbled forward she seemed to hit an invisible barrier. She looked at Clotho with pure hate. ‘How are you doing this?'

There was no triumph in Clotho's voice. ‘I have been in this realm for a very long time.' She swept a hand through the air in front of the Tapestry and the lights blinked out, darkness sweeping through the chamber. Only one soul remained illuminated, far west of Britain, across the Atlantic. A red and gold soul that twisted and spiralled and grew brighter and brighter, fierce enough to cast its own light into the chamber. ‘Your soul passed through my hands. There was such very great potential.'

Morta was straining towards her but getting nowhere. ‘You will
not
cut my thread,' she hissed. Before Clotho could react she threw the knife. Adam flinched but Clotho stood unharmed. It was Morta who twisted towards them, her smile savage in the red light for just a second before the Mortal Knife sliced through her thread and the chamber was plunged into darkness.

Adam stood frozen. He could hear the racing thud of his own heartbeat. The chamber felt hollow now and cold. He was aware of the cavernous space all around him. Out of the darkness a woman's voice spoke, soft and sad. ‘Atropos, known as Morta, has revoked her service and gone into her Light. Our Light is her Light.'

The silence that followed was expectant. Adam cleared his throat. ‘Our Light is her Light,' he whispered.

Gradually the firefly points of light returned to the chamber walls, the brightest souls glowing first, then the cooler, quieter souls filling in the gaps until the great sphere was illuminated all around them once again. Adam found himself back at the centre of the globe. Clotho bent down and picked up the Mortal Knife – and something else. She moved towards him and when she got close she put out her hand and patted Adam's cheek. ‘All is well now. You and your family are safe. Be at peace.'

Adam tasted salt on his lips. He realised he was crying, hot tears running down his face. He swiped his palms across his cheeks and stared at the ground, trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. ‘I thought I had to kill her but I couldn't do it. I  …  didn't know she would end herself.' His stomach churned with guilt and relief.

‘It was better that she went into her Light. There was no other way.' Clotho looked tired. For the first time, Adam could see some hint of her age in the stoop of her shoulders and the lines in her face. She straightened up and reached for Adam's hand. When she saw the weals in the flesh she frowned and swept her hand across it. A second later the pain had gone and the skin was back to normal. ‘Come. We do not have much time.'

She led him back to the staircase and they climbed swiftly down. Torches were burning brightly along the walls. There was no need for darkness now. It had only been a few minutes since Adam had crept up the stairs, full of fear. Now as they descended all he felt was numbness, listening to his feet patter on the steps over and over. Morta was dead. He was safe now. They were all safe now. He should be happy.

Clotho was in front and moving faster than him. He hurried after her, catching up as they reached the bottom of the staircase. They emerged into the marble hallway. It seemed even colder and brighter than before. Adam stared around, not quite able to shake the feeling that he was trapped in a nightmare. Only the sight of his brother lying on the velvet couch made it real. ‘Is Luc going to be OK?'

Clotho moved swiftly across to Luc and bent down beside him. She rested a hand on his forehead and nodded. ‘He must return to the physical world. His body and mind have been through trauma. He will take some time to heal.' She stroked Luc's cheek as tenderly as a mother with her baby. ‘I remember this one.' Clotho smiled softly. ‘He's going to surprise everyone, himself most of all.'

‘Surprise people how?' Adam said. His voice sounded cracked and croaky.

Her smile faded. ‘That depends on Luc. He has darkness and light, as all mortals do. Only he can choose his path.'

Adam hesitated. ‘And what about me?' He was whispering, without meaning to. What he really wanted to do was shout and yell and scream, ‘
What about me? Will I always be the failure? The disappointment? The one who can't do anything right, even when I try?
'

Clotho looked at him with that strange, piercing gaze that seemed to see straight through him and into his soul. She knew what he was thinking; Adam could see that. ‘You have nothing to fear, Adam. Life is brief and beautiful. Be the man you are meant to be. Be a clear light in the world. If you do that, your mortal life will cause you no regret and when the time comes you will step through your Light in peace.'

Adam nodded. Some of the painful pressure in his chest eased, even though she hadn't really answered him at all. What she'd told him was enough. He joined her at Luc's side and together they looked down at his sleeping brother. The blood crusted on Luc's chest was stark and horrible against his alabaster skin. Adam winced looking at it. ‘Why did she do that?'

‘Because she was scarred herself. She took her pain and chose to be cruel.' Clotho's face was expressionless. She passed her hand across the wound and it disappeared. The terrible paleness began to fade and colour rushed back into Luc's face. ‘He will wake soon. Take him home.'

‘How am I going to explain it to him?' Adam bit his lip. How much had Morta told him?

Clotho didn't answer. She slipped her hand beneath Luc's head. Luc lay there perfectly still; then without warning his body went rigid. His neck arched and his mouth opened in a silent scream, before his body fell back into repose. Clotho pulled her hand away. She looked ill. ‘I have done what I can. Unweaving memory is a complex affair and I have little time. Fragments may remain for him, like a dream or a vision.' She reached into the pouch on the front of her dress and pulled out Luc's keystone. A wave of her hand and it was safely back on Luc's neck. ‘You must go now – but first I need the token.'