He listened as Lilac hoisted herself through the broken shutter in the other room, expecting, at any moment, a clamorous response from the interloper outside. And yet no noise came, save for the usual snuffling issues. Benjamin went to the window and peeked through the slats, but found only a riot of albino leaves; this particular room, he remembered, overlooked the side of the house, where the vegetation was so overgrown as to be impenetrable. He would have disengaged then, and gone out to join Lilac, had he not glimpsed, at the lowermost point of his gaze, a movement in the undergrowth that did not speak of a stirring breeze. Realising that the gaps between the lower range of slats would afford him a better view, he crouched down; as he did so, he was sure that he heard the pitter-patter of small feet. Yet when he looked, he again saw nothing - at first. Then, just beyond a dangling leaf that quivered as though recently disturbed, he saw, in the thick of the shrubbery, more movement. He couldn’t make out the shape - the surrounding brush made an inkblot puzzle out of the whole scene - but the nature of the movement was definite: something was there. And though he couldn’t see it, he had the disturbing suspicion that it was somehow malformed. He didn’t know why, as there was nothing visible that should lend itself to such an impression, but neither could he deny it: there was something wrong with whatever-it-was that was lurking in those bushes. It felt as if its hands had too-few fingers. It felt as if its body was grey and incomplete. It seemed broken - collapsed, somehow.
The pitter-patter noise receded, and then the creature, along with the peculiar sensation it brought to its observer, was gone. Just my imagination, the boy thought, standing back up. He was tired, he’d seen a lot of weird stuff already, so it stood to reason that his mind was liable to play a few tricks now and then. Nevertheless, he wasn’t entirely convinced, and figured it would be best to catch up with Lilac as soon as possible; deserted houses with sinister noises outside were not the sort of places where he preferred to be alone.
He returned to the room through which he’d entered, and - deeming it best to follow Lilac’s example - exited by means of the broken shutter. The lady, as expected, was still in the front garden, where he found her peering down the side of the house, intent upon the foliage that had harboured their snuffling intruder. “Did you see it?” she asked, having apparently forgotten her request that the boy stay inside.
“No,” said Benjamin, deciding that the strange intuitions of earlier were probably irrelevant, and unworthy of being divulged. “Did you?”
“Nope.” Lilac stepped back from the bushes and stretched. “Ah well,” she said, relaxing. “Probably just a falliwray. Thing is, with friends like mine, you get jumpy. Hope I didn’t scare you.”
“Not a bit,” said Benjamin.
“Hm,” responded the lady, as though she detected some bravado in the boy’s reply. “Have you still got the ... you know, the thing we came for?”
Benjamin fished the gourd out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. He smiled, the dream glistening against the surface of his thoughts like sunshine on a river.
“You happy enough to keep it?”
“I think so.” He looked back at the house, then the bushes, if expecting an accusatory remark to emerge from both.
“Fine then,” said Lilac jauntily, as she began to stride across the overgrown lawn towards the gate. Once the gate was successfully vaulted, she clambered back up to the topmost saddle of the tandem and awaited her companion. The matter, it seemed, was decided. The gourd was his to possess, and their excursion was at an end. Now all that remained was another skybourne journey back to Lilac’s flat, and then ... well, who knew what.
But there was something about this little adventure that Benjamin, in being preoccupied with more immediate concerns, did not notice: that all the plants in the garden - the white leaves, the white fronds, the white flowers - were dead to his touch, and devoid of the lively dream-hints that imbued the structures and artefacts of Niamago. And had he stayed around longer, he would have seen something truly marvellous unfold: for a number of those leaves turned green and lush after a while, as did certain of the stalks and fronds; and he would have seen bleached flowers become luxuriant with the hues of their earthly kin - though only if they were fortunate enough to grow in the places where he had walked. Otherwise, the flora remained pale, and stark against the carpet of springtime colour that arose between the gate and the door.
Of those who watched it happen - the hurrixes from the other end of the street, the passers-by, the neighbours who’d detected a commotion fomenting outside, and had come to look and glean their share of gossip - only a few reckoned it to be the work of a dreamshader. Most regarded it as just another of those everyday anomalies that abounded in Niamago, and they returned to their lives brighter in mood but not in mind. For one, who peeped out of the bushes at the side of the house, it was a sad reminder of better days, when there had been some hope to stem the misery, and the kind words of a master to allay its grief at being alive.
***
The return trip was uneventful (thanks, in no small part, to Lilac’s idea of detouring away from Wolfgang’s abode) and seemed to go by faster; in a trice, they were back within the bounds of the city, weaving between the towers, ducking walkways and dodging the odd fellow voyager. Like before, they travelled high; but Benjamin found it much easier to bear this time, his faith in the tandem having been bolstered by experience. As such, he was able to relax a little, and let things other than the plunge below take precedent in his thoughts. One of these things, naturally enough, was his find at the cottage, but he didn’t dare take the gourd from his pocket in case he dropped it. And when he was not thinking about that, he was pondering upon what else he had discovered in the house: the map, the books, the creature outside, the treasures on the table; idly turning them over in his mind, like the details of a recently seen film. He didn’t muse too deeply, and it was not until he got round to thinking about the papers on the desk that he decided to delve deeper, and broach the subject with Lilac.
“Who is Alexander Gogmagog?” he asked.
“The lord of Id Carnifor,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“I heard - well, I saw his name back at the house - and I remembered that you had mentioned him before.”
“Oh,” said Lilac, pausing a moment. “Have I?”
“Yeah.” Then Benjamin paused. “Is he a dreamshader?”
“He was. And still is, I imagine. Nowadays he seems happier ruling the phragodols - the kind of plesh who’d rather be a king of a dunghill than not a king at all.”
“I read this thing about him. It was weird. Something about ‘blooms’, and -” Benjamin tried thinking of the other word he’d seen there - ‘Ei’ something-or-other - but couldn’t remember it in full “- all sorts of stuff. Whoever wrote it knew him, I’m sure of that.”
“Really?” said Lilac, with genuine surprise in her voice. “I should have looked myself. Was it in a book, or something?”
“No - just these pages, lying on that desk by the door.”
“I don't recall. Well, I recall the desk, but not the pages. What else did they say?”
“Oh, that Gogmagog was mad and wicked -”
Lilac laughed.
“- And there was a list of names there, too: Isa - Isa Raphael, and Robert Kracks-kicks. I think that was his name, anyway; it was foreign. There were some others, but I’ve forgotten them.”
“Isa Raphael - yes, I’ve heard of her. She was a dreamshader. But this Kracks-kicks; no, I’ve not heard of him.”
“Is Isa Raphael still around?”
“Not any more.”
“Is she dead, then?”
“I have no idea. From what I was told, she just disappeared. I was very young when she was about, and didn’t have such an ear for tattle as I do now.”
“Alexander Thorn!” Benjamin blurted. “I’ve just remembered - that was one of the other names.”
Looking up, he saw Lilac shake her head. “I don’t know,??
? she said, as if struggling with a memory she couldn’t quite retrieve. “Gogmagog used to go by another name, but I can’t be certain it was that one. It was all a long time ago, way before I was here.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Who, Gogmagog?”
“Yeah. I mean - what’s his story?”
Lilac sighed, and waited awhile before speaking. To Benjamin, it felt as if she was resigning herself to talking about an off-limits subject; a taboo. “It’s hearsay, mostly; and what there is is little. All I know is that Gogmagog once came to Niamago, and tried to set himself up as its ruler. He was an extremely capable dreamshader, and religious with it - he was a follower of Joshua Lam. He decided that we atulphi were damned, and needed his guidance; we atulphi merely ignored him. He was angry; he killed many. And then he disappeared. When his remaining accomplices were rounded-up, they said that he had discovered a secret which had sent him mad. None of them knew what the secret was, and neither did they know if he’d killed himself or gone into exile. There was some trouble afterwards - the accomplices were lynched, and mobs took to the streets, looking for those they suspected of having sympathy for Gogmagog’s cause. But things settled, as they do, and there the story of Alexander Gogmagog was supposed to end.”
“But it didn’t.”
“Nope. Because a little while later, something happened to the phragodols. They became bold; they began to hunt silfs, like us. No one suspected it had anything to do with Gogmagog at first; but something had changed in them, that much was clear. You see, the phragodols never used to have any interest in the silfs; they were content to either haunt the human world or slope off to the shores of Id Carnifor. Sometimes one would claw its way into Niamago by mistake, and we’d have to put it to death; but they were never a great problem, and no one gave them a great deal of thought - until, as I said, they began to stalk the silfs, and Mallicore Moon had his famous run-in with that basket-case fraggo Choazan of the Thaw. It was then that people got the first inkling that Gogmagog was still alive.”
“What happened?”
“What happened was that Mallicore Moon died from his injuries - but before he died he told his ministers that Choazan had delivered his wounds on behalf of the ‘Great Gogmagog’ himself. And later, other silf hunters started to claim much the same. For some reason, the phragodols had begun to harvest silfs in earnest, even to the extent of maiming, or even killing atulphi to get them; and they were doing this in the name of Gogmagog. At the same time, anyone who voyaged close enough to Id Carnifor without being harmed spoke of seeing towers there, all scaffolded, and pylons: huge, huge pylons that seemed to be catching the red lightning. You have to understand that the place had only ever been a wasteland before; the phragodols couldn’t build anything because they had neither the silfs nor the nous to do it. But now things were different; the phragodols were stealing our silfs, and using them to raise a city in their dump. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was behind it all.”
“Gogmagog.”
“Yup.”
Benjamin expected Lilac to continue, but she didn’t. “So what happened after that?” he asked.
“Nothing much. Anyone who hunted silfs for a living went out armed, and the clashes with the fraggoes went on. But that was all. And if Gogmagog was happy to rule them instead of us, then that was no bad thing. There’s plenty who still demand justice for Gogmagog, of course; but most of us reckon that to end up as lord of so miserable a lot is a kind of justice in itself, and think no further on the subject. Gogmagog and his phragodols have their realm, and we have ours. And there it stays.”
The conversation clearly over, Benjamin quietly digested what he had learnt. And what he had learnt was this: that the atulphi were cruel. Lilac had talked of lynchings (he didn’t know what a lynching was, exactly, though he was aware that it was something ugly and painful) and had mentioned the ‘putting to death’ of unfortunate phragodols in a way he didn’t like: she was too offhand about it, too casual, and it led him to wonder if such callousness might be the norm here. When it came down to it, there was no reason at all to assume that someone could not harbour a cold heart just because they were brave, or had the glamour of magic. And perhaps, too, the same could be said of a city, a country ... and maybe even a world.
“Are you and the phragodols at war?” he asked, eventually.
“No, I don't think so,” she said.
“Do you ever think you might be?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, after a time.
17
Once Lilac’s tenement was in sight, it soon became evident that Naranarra, if he was still around, wasn’t alone on the rooftop. In fact, there was quite a crowd there. Whoever these people were, however, and what their purpose might be, was a mystery ... until Lilac, gazing intently, issued the kind of gasp that spoke of someone suddenly recalling something that shouldn’t have been forgotten.
“It’s Beyno,” she said, shielding her eyes with a hand. “I can see his sword already. And - oh the surprise - we have some representatives from the Considerate League. You know what this means.”
“What?”
“That it’s time. For you to show what you can do as a dreamshader.”
“They want me to -”
“Transfigure the silf.” She drummed her fingers against the satchel. “You know, I must wonder: is it lucky that I brought our little darling with us, so as to save time in dealing those fools who become more foolish the more they try not to be fools? Or would it have been better to have left the silf behind, so that we could at least fortify ourselves with some tea first? What do you think?”
“I think -” Benjamin squinted, discerning the scene ahead. He spied the stately Beyno immediately; as Lilac had said, his sword was hard to miss. Naranarra, as it turned out, was there also, still sat on his stool and apparently indifferent to what was going on around him. There were about twenty or so others, none of whom the boy recognised. “- I think you’re crackers.”
“So I’m flaky, but a fine accompaniment, yes?” she said, laughing. “And thin. Mustn’t forget that.”
Benjamin shook his head. “I haven’t got the slightest idea of how I’m meant to -” he looked up, nodding towards the satchel “- to transform that thing, you know.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“But what if nothing happens?”
“Then our self-appointed great and good go home disappointed. Fine, I say.”
“I’ll look like an idiot.”
“You’ll be all right.”
I bet I won’t, he thought, without saying anything more. The test had come, and further argument was useless. He would either prove himself, or he wouldn’t. It was as simple as that. There was nothing else to say, and nothing else to do except await the moment, and hope that the art of being a dreamshader really was as instinctive as Lilac had promised.
He looked again to the satchel, envisioning the silf inside. You’ll help me, won’t you? he asked silently. But if the silf gave a response - a twirl, maybe, within its confines - he didn’t see it.
***
Benjamin’s nervousness was not helped by the discovery that his audience was more expansive than previously thought; as he closed in on the tenement, he was able to see that a large assembly had gathered in the crossways below, its gaze set skyward, its babble excited. He had no doubt that these people were there for him, either; the abrupt hush at his arrival, coupled with a groundswell of pointing fingers, was enough to satisfy his curiosity on that count. As to what, exactly, they were waiting for, he didn’t dare contemplate. All he wanted, right now, was to keep his fears in check, and deal with nothing until events demanded it.
Lilac brought the tandem softly down to the rooftop, the gathered newcomers shuffling back a little to grant space. Benjamin, trying his utmost not to appear self-conscious - for he was all too aware of the eyes on him at that moment - asked the lady, as casually as he could, if he’d need the emberquick to succe
ed in his task. The lady, thinking for a second, said that she didn’t think so. “I did give it to you, didn’t I?” queried the boy, patting his pockets and feeling only the gourd. Lilac replied that he had, and that it was quite safe; she also told him that it would be best if he disembarked now, lest dinnywhits took nest in her hair.
With limbs that were both stiff from fatigue and shaky with anticipation, Benjamin climbed down from the saddle. As on the pier, he found himself standing there, unsure of what to say or do, while those who had been awaiting him lingered awkwardly and did nothing. Only Beyno, catching his eye, offered some semblance of a greeting: a raised hand and a faint smile, but that was the extent of it. The rest just tarried, murmuring uneasily amongst themselves, uncertain, like Benjamin, of what they should do or say next.
Thankfully, Lilac was quick in getting to his side. Unfortunately, she didn’t take command of the situation by means of some fey remark or quip. Looking to her, he tilted his head in the direction of the assemblage and mouthed the word “Well?” Lilac, much to his disappointment, turned her face to their audience, sniffed, then brought her gaze back to the boy and said, “It’s your show now, Benjamin. You can take it from here.”
The boy glared at her and shrugged hard. No, I can’t take it from here, he thought. I don't know how!
Nevertheless, Lilac’s words had been enough to incur a ripple of consternation amongst the gathering - most of which came from a fat, robed atulphi who seemed to be sitting, cross legged, on a cushion of agitated air. Though he spoke in a tongue that the boy could not understand, his words were immediately made intelligible by the translation of the thin, emaciated attendant into whose ear the floating, globular character spoke.
“Oh behalf of the Considerate League,” the attendant said, before leaning down to accept another stream of babble from his companion. “That is, involving all esteemed members, patrons and interested parties.” Again he paused, receiving yet another set of words to interpret. “May I, Toft Sofferine Adi -” he held out a hand, indicating the fat man “- and my associate, Eriddy Card -” he then pointed to himself “- extend our greetings to you, Lilac Zhenrei, and to the child -” he glanced towards Benjamin “- who is purported, by popular varia, to be of the dreamshade.”