‘It has to be somewhere where nothing has changed for years,’ Raven murmured as they entered the foyer. ‘After all, Signe said the stone wouldn’t let itself be built on.’
Gerhardt glanced at an ornamental pool and was flabbergasted to see a small greenish face look up at him and grimace. ‘I suppose it will be pretty small given that they had to wait all these years before the rift was big enough for people to come through . . .’ She looked up when Gerhardt made no response. ‘What’s the matter?’
Gerhardt grabbed her hand and pulled her back behind a bank of poker machines. ‘Look.’
It was the man they had seen stab Savid: a Dakini. It occurred to them both simultaneously how broad and heavily muscled the man was, and how long and flat his face. Raven was reminded of pictures she had seen of the ferocious Mongolian tribesmen commanded by Genghis Khan, but the thought of Signe’s pale desperation made her square her shoulders purposefully.
‘At least we know we’re in the right spot. Signe told me they would not be able to touch the stone or even get too close, because it would begin to exert the same pacifying influence over them as it did in her world. She said they would probably guard it from a distance to make sure no one else gets it either until the rift collapses.’
Gerhardt frowned. ‘What exactly do you suppose will happen when this rift collapses?’
‘I don’t know, but we don’t have much time before we’re going to find out. Come on.’
They went carefully, weaving in and out of people and poker machines. There were less people than usual, and most were staring at their cards or machines with glazed concentration, unaware of the clouds of butterflies that fluttered about over their heads, or of the wildlife roaming along the carpeted aisles. Some sort of antelope was rubbing the velvet off its horns on the edge of the bar, and a monkey was seated on a stool beside the poker machine. The man on the machine alongside was punching in coins, oblivious to the nature of his hirsute companion.
They passed a roulette table where a man was swearing that the dice had changed their spots in front of his eyes.
At last, they reached the rim of the jungle again. ‘We found Savid just out there,’ Gerhardt said. ‘Logically that suggests . . .’
‘It definitely can’t be here, because the Dakini killed Savid here and the stone is supposed to suppress violence.’ She frowned. ‘Unless it has to be close to affect them, or they might need to be around it for a long time to be affected from a distance,’ Raven said.
‘I think these animals . . . Uh-oh.’ Gerhardt had spotted another of the Dakini on the other side of some blackjack tables. The man turned as if he sensed their attention.
‘Run!’ Raven cried.
Sprinting towards the jungle path, they heard a shout from the other side of the foyer. They could hear pounding footsteps close behind. Without warning Gerhardt almost wrenched Raven’s arm out of its socket, pulling her sideways into the bushes and pushing her onto the ground so hard he winded her.
‘Sh!’ he hissed urgently as she gasped for air.
She pressed her lips together, hearing boots clump by. She thought two men had run by, but there might have been more. She made herself relax, letting her lungs fill with air. More boots.
‘They must have gone through,’ someone growled in a flat gutteral accent, frighteningly close. ‘We must keep them from the witch egg, else they will take it to the sorceress and she will bewitch us again.’
They departed and Raven turned to look into Gerhardt’s face. ‘Bewitched?’
He leaned close so he could speak softly. ‘Signe said the Dakini invaded their land and that they were violent and bloodthirsty. So her people made this thing and used it to pacify them. I guess that qualifies as bewitching from their point of view.’
Raven frowned. ‘Signe’s people were simply protecting themselves the best way they could. Look how much smaller they are than those brutish Dakini. They didn’t kill them.’
‘Maybe if Signe’s people had used their magic to communicate with the Dakini instead of pacifying them, they would have had the opportunity to grow beyond brutes.’
‘Maybe you’re right, but we can’t let them just slaughter Signe’s people. Maybe we can get this Valoria and give it to her on the condition that she agrees to try and find some other way to deal with the Dakini.’
‘Let’s get it first.’
‘But the Dakini . . .’
‘Can’t go near it apparently. We need a distraction to clear the way. Wait here.’
He pushed his way through the bushes, heading back towards the gambling area.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat watching from under a rubber plant on the fringe of the jungle, as uniformed police and SWAT men poured in through the doors. Some of the gamblers noticed, but the majority kept on playing until police roused them.
‘Did they say how many bombs?’ one policeman asked another.
‘Ten, set to go off in half an hour.’
‘But we can’t possibly do a full search of this place in that time. My god, we’ll barely have time to get the people evacuated.’
‘Our instructions are to evacuate the building. These damn Mafia have gone too far this time. Hallucinogenic gases to make people crazy so they’d keep the authorities occupied and they could plant the bombs. The FBI are on the way now . . .’
They moved out of earshot and Raven turned to look into Gerhardt’s eyes with admiration.
He grinned and tried to look modest. ‘There were so many calls and alerts I thought they would take no notice unless it was something big enough to explain everything else. I thought they would jump at a logical explanation. Look!’
Three SWAT men appeared, dragging one of the struggling Dakini.
‘How did they know to go for the Dakini?’ Raven whispered.
‘I said they looked like foreigners and I described them as savages in suits. It’s not like they blend in exactly.’
The Dakini’s muscles bulged with his efforts to free himself, and the SWAT men were swearing and looked as if they were on the verge of calling for reinforcements.
Gradually the hall emptied out and when the coast was clear, Gerhardt and Raven made their way silently to the exit door. Outside, the air was alive with butterflies diving and swooping in jewelbright swaths among the foliage surrounding the pool. The water seethed with creatures that were demonstrably not human.
‘It’s got to be somewhere out here,’ Raven said.
‘No,’ said a deep voice behind them, and they whirled to find another of the enormous Dakini emerging from the bushes, his eyes bright with malevolent intelligence. Like the others, his hair was cropped close to his skull and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. ‘The Valoria is with the catbeasts. So does the witch egg protect itself. But you do not have such protections.’
‘Wait!’ Raven cried as, he drew out a great serrated blade. ‘We want to help you . . .’
The man smiled showing filed teeth. ‘I need no help from you.’
‘It’s no good,’ Gerhardt said in a low voice. ‘I’ll distract him and you get back inside and get the stone. It’s our only hope. Once you have it, bring it out and maybe it will start pacifying him. It obviously needs to be closer in this world than in theirs.’
Raven nodded once, then pretended to lose her nerve and darted away into the bushes. The minute she was out of sight, she dropped to her knees and backtracked. Peering through the bushes, she saw the Dakini lunge at Gerhardt. If the Dakini had any sense, he would simply have guarded the door, but his aggressive instincts would not let him wait passively.
Reaching the wall, she inched her way out of the bushes towards the door. Unfortunately, Gerhardt’s eyes flickered to her for a split second, and the Dakini whirled.
With a gasping scream, she wrenched the door open and threw herself inside.
She could not let herself think of what was happening outside. She had no illusions that the slender young German, for all his height, would
be a match for the Dakini. Approaching the tiger enclosure, she stopped dead.
The white tigers were both stretched on the ground outside the enclosure. Had they been outside when she and Gerhardt had run by only moments before? It was a wonder the creatures had not attacked them. Now they merely watched Raven unblinkingly through impassive, lovely eyes. She had the strange feeling they knew exactly what was happening. Surely there must be some sort of magic about creatures like these. Their blood must resonate to the tingle of enchantment in the air, just as her own bones vibrated with an awareness that this was what she had spent her whole life waiting and longing for, without ever knowing it.
Somewhere in the jungle, a concealed bird let out a raucous cry, and she started violently. Twin pairs of ice-blue eyes watched her unblinkingly as she took a step towards them. Her hands were wet and she felt sweat crawl down her spine.
Now she could see into the enclosure. The butterflies were so thick they were like a storm of white blossoms. She looked back at the tigers and her heart lurched, for they had risen.
Her legs felt watery and she had a horrible vision of those great gleaming ivory teeth closing in on her, the spurt of blood and a moment later, the crunch of the bone.
Then it occurred to her. The stone suppressed violence, and eating her would be violence to her, so – perhaps she was in no danger. Unless eating did not qualify as violence . . .
She took a deep shaky breath and took another step. It brought her face to face with the tigers, and for a second, she could see her own reflection in four pale-blue eyes, feel the heat of their breath on her bare arms. She forced herself to squeeze between them, feeling the warm, coarse fur brush against her legs and thighs.
She walked unsteadily to the glass door, which stood ajar. The air felt strangely thick as she climbed inside. Her skin seemed to tingle as if the very air was effervescing against it. Butterflies pressed against her skin and the air was filled with the whispery beat of a million tiny wings. She could have felt claustrophobic with their wings brushing every bit of her bare skin, even her eyelids. She could see nothing for their fluttering whiteness, and she dared not open her mouth. But she was concentrating on following the feeling of magic to its source, reaching blindly down . . .
Butterflies! Butterflies so thick against her fingers now that she must move slowly lest she bruise them, if they were not killing themselves by straining towards . . .
She had it!
Her fingers closed on the jagged pebble and she backed to the door, fearing the harm she would do if she turned around. The butterflies followed. Unable to see where she was going, she stumbled and stumbled again. Then her leg brushed a more solid warmth. The tigers had come into the cage and were walking either side of her. Guiding her to the door.
Out of the enclosure, the press of butterflies lessened enough that she could see, albeit as if she were in a blizzard. The tigers followed her through the door, and through a fluttering rainbow she saw the Dakini bring his knife to Gerhardt’s throat.
‘No!’ she screamed, and threw the stone.
The Dakini whirled and raised his hands, then his expression changed to one of horror, and he was lost in the thick swirl of butterflies.
Raven ran forward to where Gerhardt lay, pressing his fingers to his stomach. ‘Are you . . .’
‘I won’t die, thanks to you, though I have a few cracked ribs, I think,’ he gasped. ‘I guess you found it.’
Raven nodded, squeezed his hand gently, then rose and went towards the Dakini. She could not see him, but again she followed the tingle on her skin. And at the eye of this storm of butterflies, she found the Dakini, crooning tunelessly and cradling the Valoria, and understood why Signe’s people had used it. The man was utterly harmless now. But when she took the stone from his fingers, the Dakini looked at her with mindless eyes, and she shivered at what it had made of his intelligence. Obviously the Valoria worked immediately if you were in direct contact. She tried to imagine hundreds of men and women like this, and quailed.
The ground lurched suddenly beneath her feet and there was a rumble that sounded as if it came from the depths of the earth.
‘Raven!’ Gerhardt cried.
Raven . . .
She stopped, squinting against the butterflies. ‘Signe?’
I . . . cannot hold the gate more than a few moments. You must take the Valoria through the rift for me.
Raven gasped and felt the butterflies against her lips. ‘But you . . .’
Are too far away. I have barely enough strength to reach you with my mindvoice. I have only a little time left. Too little. Help my people. Help me.
‘But you said when the gate failed, there would be no way to reopen it. Will I get back before it collapses?’
A brief telling pause. Then: I have read you, Raven. The Searchers were trained to quicken to magic so they could locate the Valoria, but your heart quickens to magic naturally. Are you not a Searcher, Raven, and would you turn aside fearing the risks when the thing you seek lies before you?
A sound rang in Raven’s heart like a bell at the centre of her soul. A peal of radiance. A memory of the trembling moment of almost magic that she had felt once as a child. ‘What do I do . . .?’
I will open the rift. All you have to do is step through. Prepare yourself.
The ground shook again.
‘Wait!’ She hurried towards Gerhardt, knelt by him. ‘I heard,’ he said, struggling to his feet.
‘Come,’ she said eagerly, startled to realise she did not want to leave him.
He shook his head. ‘I can’t. I . . . I belong here. I have my brother and my work. I am a physicist.’
‘Oh, but Gerhardt. This is magic and . . .’ She bit her lip against the other words, for there was no point in saying them now. This is the real world and that is what he wants, she thought sadly.
The ground shook again.
He reached out and took her hand again. That so unexpectedly precious hand. Kissed it. ‘Go. You can save Signe’s people and help the Dakini.’
There was a cracking sound and the ground jerked impatiently.
Raven. I cannot hold it much longer. Your friend must . . . get clear.
‘Goodbye,’ Gerhardt said. Then he heard a great ripping sound as if the very fabric of the universe was being rent apart. Raven turned, called to the docile Dakini and, stone raised, stepped forward, flanked by the tigers and a multicoloured veil of butterflies. For a moment, Gerhardt caught sight of a green, verdant land, with a glimmering violet sky, superimposed over the night and the pool.
Raven turned and looked straight into his eyes. He saw her lips shape his name, and a great surge of longing dragged at him.
‘Raven!’ he cried, and sprinted towards the rift.
Gerhardt wiped the sweat from his brow, turning away from remembering that last moment. There was too much pain in it. How many years had he thought of it, and cursed himself for stumbling, for taking too long to realise that she was the first real magic in his life? If only. The saddest words in the English language. Too late. Of course.
He had barely escaped with his life. He had been in hospital for months recovering from what the authorities had judged as a bomb explosion. By that time, he could not even find out what had happened to Signe. Maybe she just became dust, the way Raven had envisaged it.
He smiled, and though it might have been bitter, it was not. There was pain in it, and loneliness. But there was hope too, because maybe this story of witchlights would be real. Maybe this time the rumour of magic would yield up a longed-for truth: a place where the skin between the world where Raven now dwelt, and this one, was torn.
Maybe this time.
He stepped down harder on the accelerator.
GREEN MONKEY DREAMS
So, you seek the key to the dream of life, hafting? Look deep, then, and accept the reflections of the dreamwindow, knowing the dreamer and the dream are indivisible. The visions you see in its many facets rise from you and are of your
essence, no matter how alien or disconnected they may seem . . .
Random is straight and tall, with the sun in his face and shining from his eyes as he looks away to the horizon.
‘I thought you went away,’ Jilia says.
Random gives her his slashing smile and winks as if at a joke. Then, with sudden urgency, he says, ‘Follow me.’ He starts up the hill with his long stride, leaving her behind. It takes her a moment to realise he really means to go up, and then she hurries after him. The hill is much steeper than it appears and by the time she gets to the top, she is panting hard. The walk has taken only minutes, yet it is night already. A dark plain is stretching out, anonymous and bare but for a few boulders, and far off there is another hill rising up. Together, the two hills must look from a distance like giant steps, and who knows if there is not another hill beyond the next, and then another.
Random is nowhere to be seen but Jilia notices a hut a little way from the edge of the steppe. She is puzzled that she did not see it at once, for it is quite close and a light shines in the window. She makes her way across the stubbled earth towards it, meaning to ask the inhabitants if they saw which way Random walked.
An old woman opens the door before she has the chance to knock, and gives her a surprised look. ‘Oh, it’s you again. You’d better come in, it’s nearly time.’
‘I am looking for . . .’ Jilia begins.
But the old woman reaches out and pulls her into the hut. ‘Of course, but come in quickly.’
Inside, by a fire, there is a child in a nightshirt and a young woman in a stained apron. The woman looks familiar, and Jilia is puzzled by this, and by the way the old woman appears to recognise her. There is another knock at the door and a big man and three small girls enter the hut, and then a moment later a younger woman comes in with a handsome man who has full red lips. The woman is pregnant and from the way the man holds her arm, he seems to be her husband or perhaps her brother.