Weaveworld (40 page)

But she would leave too much unfinished business behind. She’d leave the Fugue intact, and her enemies alive. There was no wisdom in that.

No; she had to go on living. To see the Families humiliated; their hopes, like their territories, in dust; their miracles reduced to playthings. Destruction would be altogether too easy for them. It hurt for an instant only, then it was all over. But to see the Seerkind enslaved: that was worth living for.

The roar of the waters soothed her. She grew nostalgic, remembering the bodies she’d seen snatched beneath this tide.

But did she hear another roar, beneath that of the river? She looked up from the murky waters. At the top of the steps was a ramshackle building, little more than a roof supported by columns, in which the lesser mourners had loitered while the final farewells were made at the river-side. She could just see movement there now; fugitives in the shadows. Was it her sisters? She didn’t sense their proximity.

Her unspoken question was answered as she crossed the mud back to the bottom step.

‘I knew you’d be here.’

Immacolata halted, her foot on the step.

‘Of all places … here.’

Immacolata felt a twinge of trepidation. Not because of the man who emerged from the shelter of the column, but because of the company he kept. They moved in the shadows behind him, their panting flanks silken. Lions! He’d come with lions.

‘Oh yes,’ Romo said, seeing the Incantatrix flinch, ‘I’m not alone, like she was. This time
you’re
the vulnerable one.’

It was true. The lions were unreflective creatures. Her illusions would not mislead them. Nor would her assaults easily touch the tamer, who shared that bestial indifference.

‘Sisters …’ she breathed. ‘Come to me.’

The lions were moving into the moonlight, six in all; three male, three female. Their eyes were glued to their owner, awaiting his instructions.

She took a step backwards. The mud was slick beneath her
heel. She almost lost her balance. Where was the Magdalene, and the Hag? She sent another thought in hectic pursuit of them, but fear made it sluggish.

The lions were at the top of the steps now. She didn’t dare take her eyes off them, though she loathed the sight. They were so effortlessly magnificent. Much as the thought appalled her, she knew she would have to flee before them. She would have the menstruum carry her up above the river before they reached her. But it was taking its time to flow through her, distracted as she was. She made an attempt to delay their approach.

‘You shouldn’t trust them …’ she said.

‘The lions?’ said Romo, half-smiling.

‘The Seerkind. They cheated Mimi as they cheated me. They left her in the Kingdom, while they took refuge. They’re cowards and deceivers.’

‘And you? What are you?’

Immacolata felt the menstruum begin to suffuse her shadow-self. With her escape certain, she could afford to tell the truth.

‘I’m nothing,’ she said, her voice now so soft it was almost lost in the din of the river. ‘I’m alive as long as my hatred for them keeps me alive.’

It was almost as if the lions understood this last remark, for they came at her suddenly, leaping down the steps to where she stood.

The menstruum rippled about her; she started to rise. Even as she did so the Magdalene appeared from along the river, and let out a cry.

The call diverted Immacolata’s attention, her feet inches from the mud. It was all that the first of the lions required. He launched himself from the steps towards her, and before she could avoid the attack, he clawed her from the air. She fell backwards into the mud.

Romo pushed his way through the rest of the pride, calling the animal back before Immacolata mustered her powers. The summons came too late. The menstruum was spiralling around the beast, tearing at its face and flanks; the animal could
not have disengaged itself now if it had wanted to. But the menstruum’s attack left little in reserve for defence, and the lion landed blow after blow, each gouging a brutal wound. Immacolata shrieked and squirmed in the blood-streaked mud, but the lion would not let her alone.

As its claws opened her face, it let out a throttled roar, and its assault ceased. It stood over Immacolata for an instant, as steam rose from between them; then it staggered sideways. Its abdomen had been opened from throat to testicles. It was not the menstruum’s doing, but that of the knife now dropping from Immacolata’s hand. The beast, trailing its innards, stumbled a little way then keeled over in the mud.

The rest of the animals growled their distress, but held their positions at Romo’s command.

As for Immacolata, the sisters were coming to her aid, but she spat some contemptuous words at them and dragged herself to her knees. The wounds she’d sustained would have left a human being, or indeed most Seerkind, dead in the dirt. Her flesh and upper chest had been traumatically mauled; the flesh hung in sickening ribbons. Still she hauled herself to her feet, and turned her agonized eyes, which were now set in a single wound, on Romo.

‘I will destroy everything you ever loved …’ she said, her voice throbbing, her hand clutching her face while the blood gushed between her fingers. ‘The Fugue. The Seerkind. All of it! Wiped away. You have my promise.
You will weep.’

If it had been in Romo’s power he would have had no compunction about dispatching the Incantatrix on the spot. But delivering Immacolata to pastures new was beyond the power of lion or lion-tamer; weakened as the enemy was, she and her sisters would undoubtedly kill the rest of the animals before they reached her. He would have to be content with what their surprise attack had achieved, and hope that Mimi knew, in her resting place, that her torment had been avenged.

He moved towards the felled lion, speaking soft words. Immacolata made no attempt to harm him, but started up towards the steps, her sisters flanking her.

The lions stood their ground, waiting for the order that would unleash them. But Romo was too busy grieving. He had laid his cheek on the cheek of the dying animal, still murmuring to it. Then the words of comfort stopped, and a look scarcely less than tragic came over his face.

The lions heard his silence, and knew what it signified. They turned their heads to him, and as they did so Immacolata rose into the air, a saint of mud and wounds, the wraith-sisters trailing her like corrupted seraphim.

He looked up as they ascended into darkness, a patter of blood falling. Almost as the night erased them he saw Immacolata’s head loll, and the sisters rise to her aid. This time the Incantatrix did not despise their support, but let them bear her away.

IX

NEVER, AND AGAIN

he ziggurat builder who’d stood guard outside Capra’s House was shouting at them from the edge of the field, courtesy preventing him from coming any closer.

‘They want you back at the House,’ he called.

As they walked back towards the myrtle trees it became apparent that events of some moment were afoot. Members of the Council were already leaving Capra’s House, urgency in their step and on their faces. The bells in the trees were all ringing, though there was no breeze moving, and there were lights above the House, like vast fire-flies.

The Amadou,’ said Jerichau.

The lights swooped and rose in elaborate configurations.

‘What are they doing?’ Suzanna asked.

‘Signalling,’ Jerichau replied.

‘Signalling what?’

As he went to reply, Yolande Dor appeared between the trees and stood in front of Suzanna.

They’re fools to trust you,’ she stated flatly. ‘But I tell you now,
I’m
not sleeping. You hear me? We have a right to
live
! You damn Cuckoos don’t own the earth!’ Then she was away, cursing Suzanna as she went.

That means they’re taking Romo’s advice,’ said Suzanna.

That’s what the Amadou are saying,’ Jerachau confirmed, still watching the sky.

‘I’m not sure I’m ready for this.’

Tung was at the door, calling her in.

‘Hurry, will you? We have precious little time.’

She hesitated. The menstruum offered her no courage now; her stomach felt like a cold furnace: ash and emptiness.

‘I’m
with you,’ Jerichau reminded her, reading her anxiety.

His presence was some comfort. Together, they went inside.

When she stepped into the chamber she was greeted by an almost reverential hush. All eyes were turned on her. There was desperation in every face. Last time she’d been here, mere minutes ago, she’d been an invader. Now she was the one upon whom their fragile hopes for survival depended. She tried not to let her fear show, but her hands trembled as she stood before them.

‘We’re decided,’ said Tung.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Yolande told me.’

‘We don’t like it much,’ said one of the number, whom Suzanna recognized as a defector from Yolande’s faction. ‘But we’ve got no choice.’

‘There are already disturbances at the border,’ said Tung. ‘The Cuckoos know we’re here.’

‘And it’ll soon be morning,’ said Messimeris.

So it would. Dawn could be no more than ninety minutes away. An hour after that, and every curious Cuckoo in the vicinity would be wandering in the Fugue – not quite seeing it perhaps, but knowing there was something to stare at, something to fear. How long after that before there was a reprise of the scene on Lord Street?

‘Steps have been taken to begin the re-weaving,’ said Dolphi.

‘Is that difficult?’

‘No,’ said Messimeris. The Gyre has great power.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘We have perhaps an hour,’ said Tung, ‘to teach you about the Weave.’

An hour: what would she learn in an hour?

Tell me only as much as I need to know for your safety,’ she said. ‘And no more than that. What I don’t know I can’t let slip’

‘Point taken,’ said Tung. ‘No time for formalities, then. Let’s begin.’

X

THE SUMMONS

al woke suddenly.

There was a slight chill in the air, though that wasn’t what had woken him. It was Lemuel Lo, calling his name.