The Stolen Child (34 page)

Rachael said nothing, but she had no doubt that Manindra had already found his answer in her silence.
 

“
My dear child, you have been chasing a phantom,” he said.  “The Dreamwalkers are all long dead.  Every last one of them.  Their deaths are recorded in every Ur ruin we have uncovered.  Their history was written into their walls, crafted into the architecture of their cities.  Every Guild scholar knows it.”
 

He gestured towards the books that lined the study walls.
 

“
I will show you a hundred texts that all say the same.  You will doubtless find the same books on Rishi's shelves, if you care to look.”
 

Finally, she could not contain herself anymore.
 

“
So what?” she snapped.  “You honestly expect me to believe any of that?  You gonna convince me that Justin was just lying to me this whole time?”
 

“
Not lying.  Merely mislead,” Manindra replied, calmly.
 

“
You really expect me to buy that?”
 

“
Tell me,” he said, leaning forward a little, eyes bright with curiosity, “your young friend.  Did he claim to have met the Lady of The Falling Leaves in person.  To have been to her realm?”
 

“He…”
Rachael paused for a moment, skewered by the old man's
question.  “He went there in his dreams,” she finished, with none of the fire she had felt surging through her only a moment before.
 

The old man regarded her sadly.
 

“
Dreams, my dear, are the substance of all true magic.  The same magic that would have granted him his particular abilities.  Fatework, it is called.”
 

“
He said it had been years,” Rachael said.  She meant for the reply to sound forceful, but the words came out like a mumbled excuse.
 

“
Time moves strangely in dreams.  I'm sure you've experienced this for yourself.  Even memories are just dreams of a different sort,” he said.  “Did it not all seem just a touch too convenient?  For someone like yourself to discover that she was secretly the heir to an ancient legacy?  A lost princess, perhaps?  Was the young man to be your knight?  Your prince?  Wasn't it just a little too perfect, to learn that there was a new life waiting for you, just beyond the other side of the curtain?”
 

His voice was soft, almost kindly.  In the silence after he spoke, Rachael heard the crackling of the fire in the grate, as the old man sipped his tea.
 

“
So what am I then?” she said.  “Cause you still went to a whole lot of trouble.  And that Seed thing still did something.”
 

“
There is a grain of truth in what you were told.  You are an heir to the legacy of the Dreamwalkers, if distantly.  Some tiny part of your lineage doubtless traces back to their kind.  Enough to make a connection.  Growing up in the vicinity of a buried Seed  saw to the rest.  The Seed was searching for someone to awaken it.  
It found you.”
 

He sighed, again.
 

“
You are an echo, my dear.  Nothing more.  Your connection to the Seed is, indeed, quite valuable.  But there is no one waiting for you beyond that gate.  The Lady's halls are abandoned and empty.”
 

Calmly, Manindra leaned forward in his chair, regarding her intently.

“
You, and your young companion, have been manipulated from the very beginning, and as a result you now have the blood of an entire city on your hands,” he said.  
Uncomfortable with his icy gaze, she looked away.

“
Like you care,” she snarled.  “You think you're any better?”
 

“
Because I am selfish?” Manindra said, seeming entirely unsurprised.  “Everyone is selfish.  Anyone who pretends to act only for the good of others is a liar and a fool.  I seek power and influence, and I offer a chance to wash your conscience clean.  Both of us selfishly saving the lives of millions.”
 

Rachael turned to look at him again, her eyes cold and hard.
 

“
Doesn't sound like much of an offer to me,” she said.
 

“
What else would you seek?” Manindra said, raising an eyebrow.  “Freedom?  The only freedom is power, and that is something you have never known.  You were born powerless, and you will die powerless.  You will always be caged, girl.  It might as well be a gilded one.”
 

Rachael said nothing.  Eyes narrowed, she met his gaze, and forced herself not to look away.
 

“Tell me,”
Manindra
said, softly, “is Rishi Chandra really any different?  Has he offered you anything that I haven't?”

“
He said...”
 

She began to protest, and faltered.  Now that she thought about it, it seemed hard to pin down just what the professor had promised her.
 

“
I see,” Manindra said, with obvious disappointment.  “Well, run to him, if you wish.  He will fight for you, I have no doubt of that.  As with all things, Rishi will fight to the bitter end.  And I will destroy him, utterly, and without mercy.  I will ruin him, and everyone he holds dear.  His daughter, his friends, the crew of that charming little ship he rides about on.  They will all suffer to protect you.  And it will not make the slightest bit of difference.”
 

Manindra's voice was cold and soft, like the sound of a blade being sharpened.  His eyes, fixed on hers, were icy cold, and Rachael felt no doubt at all that the man believed every word.
 

“Why would I care for what happens to any of them?”
she
spat
back at him
.  “I don't owe them nothing.”

“Really?”  Manindra leaned back in the chair and smiled.  “Then tell me, if they have offered nothing that I cannot, why sacrifice yourself for them?”

Still smiling, Manindra
nodded to her
.

“Think on it,
young miss
.  I thank you.  
T
his has been most en
lightening
.”

Rachael made no move, didn't say a word as the old man
touched a small crystal inset into the table, which made a gentle chiming
sound
.  
She sat in awkward silence while the old man sipped his tea, until
the door opened and
Dayaram
stepped in.  
Looking up to see his son standing in the doorway, Manindra shook his head sadly.
 

“
What on earth do I pay all these servants for, dear boy?
”

Dayaram just smiled as he awaited his instructions.  She couldn't help but notice that when Dayaram smiled, it was only his lips that moved.  His eyes remained as cold as ever.  Especially when he smiled at his father.
 

“Well, if you will insist on being my personal adjutant, Darry, would you be so good as to see the young lady back to her companions,” Manindra said.

“As you wish father,”
h
is son nodded
and turned to her, holding the door open.  She got to her feet, taking one last glance at the old man as he stared contentedly at the fire.  Then she turned away and followed Dayaram out of the room.
 

They walked through the long corridor once more, as Rachael
felt the figures on the tapestries staring down at them
.

“He scares you, doesn't he,”
s
he said, softly.  Dayaram made no sign that he had heard.  “That's why you want to be so close to everything.  You're trying to see just how bad he's lost it.  Just how dangerous he's gotten.”

Still Dayaram walked, without a word.  They crossed the entrance hall, and approached a large set of double doors.  He stopped, with one hand on the door.  Before he could turn the handle, Rachael looked him in the eye.

“Believe me,” she said, “it's as bad as you think.  It really is.”

When he spoke, his words were like steel scraping over ice.  There was coldness in his eyes, but
she
also suspected just a hint of fear.

“So long as you remain a guest in our house... Young miss... You would do well to mind your words.”

Dayaram
opened the door and ushered Rachael through into a spacious dining hall.  
As she entered she saw that everyone else was already seated.  Only Manindra had yet to join them.  However her attention turned quickly to the two figures she had not expected to see at the table.  Even without their long
red
coats, Rakesh and Naveen were easy to recognise.
 

Naveen had his hair tied back, and was sat by Vaneeta's side, chatting with the woman in a hushed tone.  Closer to, Rakesh was sat back from the table with little Mohan and Jeevan sat on his knees, bright eyed and laughing as the young boys both did their best to shout over each other.

Rachael didn't dare move.  She watched them both, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.  She couldn't seem to match Rakesh's smiling face to the haggard look he had worn when she last saw him, standing on top of the Shard
Building
with a sword clutched in one hand.  Then the man looked up at her as his nephews continued to bombard him with questions.  His smile remained, but saw something dangerous behind those eyes.  Something hard, like steel.  Then the moment passed, as Rakesh returned to answering the torrent of questions that Mohan and Jeevan assaulted him with.

Dayaram lead her to the table, seating her by Arsha's side before taking his place just to the right of the head seat.  She noticed that the professor was seated to the left, and wondered if that was important.  Then the doors swung open again, and a hush fell on the room.  Manindra Bhandari entered, his steps slow and measured as he surveyed them all.  A nervous Vaneeta swooped in to gather up her young boys as Rakesh and Naveen stood to their feet.  Their expressions now quite serious, both men went to meet their father.

“My boys,” Manindra boomed, suddenly beaming as he clapped a hand on both of their shoulders.  It was funny, Rachael thought, how the old man could be half a foot shorter than both the young men, and yet seem to tower over them.  Watching closely, she saw the look in the old man's eyes as he regarded both of his sons carefully.  A look of deep disappointment.  There was a brief conversation in hushed tones, that she could not make out.  Then all three of them went to take their places at the table.  Rachael felt a knot tightening in her stomach.  She wondered if she would be able to eat anything at all.

As dinner began, all but the oldest of the boys were ushered away to the kitchen.  Only Vasuki remained, seated between his uncles
.  Rachael couldn't help but notice the sour glances he kept throwing in their direction.
 
A strained but polite conversation filled the room.  
Rachael began to hope that she could stay quiet and be ignored,
but it wasn't long before Manindra turned his attention to her.  Smiling delightedly, the old man bombarded her with questions about where she had come from.  He seemed genuinely
delighted by ideas like 'the internet' and 'mobile phones'
.  She
mumbled brief answers as best she could
.  
I
t was difficult to endure the barrage of questions without wanting to grind her teeth and simply refuse to speak any more.  Throughout it all, Manindra listened attentively, seeming for all the world like a kindly
grandfather
.

When dessert
finally
arrived, she felt too exhausted by the conversation to even lift a spoon.  She was desperately thankful
when other conversations began to overtake the old man's questions.  Finally Manindra excused himself, and this seemed to signal that they were free to go.  She noticed that the old man's sons followed close behind him as he left the room.  Too tired to put much thought into what that might mean, Rachael slipped down from the table and made her way out onto the balcony.
 

S
he leaned out over the railing
and found herself looking down over the town below them.  There was a gentle breeze, but the air was still unpleasantly warm.
 

She heard the door, and looked across her shoulder to see Micah stroll out onto the balcony.  He leaned against the stone railing and stared up at the sky.  
Rachael found herself uncomfortably aware of the shape of his face, the strong line of his jaw captured in the glow of the ghostlamps that swayed above them.
 

“Hey,”
s
he said, turning to sit on the balcony.  
Her throat felt dry
.

“What's up?”
h
e said,
apparently
unconcerned by her precarious perch.

“Nothing, I just,”
s
he paused, trying to gather her thoughts,  “
you know... Needed some fresh air.”
 

“Yeah, me too.”

He nodded, and went to stand at the railing beside her.  
Reaching into his pocket, Micah produced a small cloth bag, from which he extracted a slightly crumpled looking roll-up.
 

"Here, give us one of those then,"
Rachael said, as Micah put the cigarette to his lips and struck a match.
 

He laughed.

"Oh no, not a chance.  Filthy habit,"
he said, taking care to blow the smoke away from her.
 

"Mate, I grew up on the estate,
yeah?” she said, doing her best to sound nonchalant.
  “I've smoked ciggies before."

"Yeah, I'm sure,”
he said.
  “I'll get to watch you cough your lungs out, and then you can watch as
Milima
murders me.  
'Lona
will probably help too."

"I won't tell,"
she said, pouting just a little.
 

"Not happening, kid.  Nice try though."

With a sigh, she slipped down off the railing and turned to look at the view.  In the far distance she could make out the lights of Firecrest, and below the streets around the estate were lit by the orange glow of the furnaces.