Dreamshade

  After a while, Lilac beckoned the boy over, a cheerful smile on her lips. Strifer Dyne looked a touch uneasy, but was ready with a grin and an outstretched hand once Benjamin was close enough. “Good to see you,” he said. “Dreamshader, eh? I heard the talk. Didn’t believe it, mind. But you got the eyes.”

  Benjamin instinctively brushed his fingertips against his lower eyelids. Just what is it with my eyes? he asked himself, as all his ambitions about creating an army of robots wilted away. For want of anything better to say, he replied with an ‘alright’, and followed it with a comment pertaining to how much he liked the flying saucer.

  “Ah,” said Strifer Dyne, looking proudly at his vehicle. “Millicent, yeah. She gets me around.”

  Millicent? Benjamin thought incredulously. He calls his flying saucer...Millicent?! He tried, very briefly, to imagine what it would be like to be at the helm of a giant Japanese mecha called ‘Rodney’, but just couldn’t do it. “Nice name,” he said, by way of a smirk. He glanced at Lilac, who was glaring back at him with a fixed, don’t-you-dare-laugh expression on her face.

  “Thanks,” said Strifer, without a trace of irony. “It suits her, don't you think?”

  ***

  Finally, then, it was time to go. With Strifer stationed on his craft, poring over the map that Lilac had given him, all that remained were the goodbyes.

  “Well,” said the lady. She looked at the boy awhile, then cast her gaze towards the sea. “I hope your stay here won’t lead you into too much trouble when you get home. Your mother would be worried now, I think.”

  Benjamin nodded. “Probably, yeah.” He’d never had to give a serious farewell before, and was at something of a loss. “Will you be okay?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” she said, turning back to look along the length of the pier, towards a Niamago now resplendent with music and sweeping light. “I can indulge in some parties while I look for my darlings. Do some shopping, too. Which reminds me: I need to get a new rod. Must remember that.”

  The moment seemed to call for some profound or touching statement, but Benjamin couldn’t think of one. Instead, he inclined his head in the direction of Strifer and asked, “will he be able to take me back to where you found me?”

  “As close as,” said Lilac. “That won’t be a worry, believe me.”

  A disturbing thought surfaced in the boy’s mind. “What if -”

  “Yes?”

  “What if the clown is still there?”

  Lilac gave a soft yet constrained smile; the kind of smile his mother used when reassuring him. “Leopold only wanted the silf, not you. So he will not be a problem. I’ve warned Strifer about him anyway. If he should still be around - which I doubt - I expect an outburst from Calaphay will be just the thing to see him off for good.”

  “Calaphay?”

  “Strifer’s guitar,” she said, glancing over to the atulphi who wielded it. “It has some ... remarkable features.”

  “Calaphay. That’s much better -”

  “I know...”

  “- than Millicent.”

  “Oh, I know,” repeated Lilac, turning her face away from Strifer so as to snigger freely. “We’ve all asked him about it,” she whispered. “But we can’t get anything from him except that he thinks it’s a really nice name.”

  “Calaphay’s cool, though,” said Benjamin, feeling a slight but not serious need to defend Strifer somewhat. The atulphi, after all, had been generous enough to offer him a lift home. “Calaphay’s neat.”

  “Millicent, however, is dreadful. And do you know what the most dreadful thing about it is?”

  “What?”

  “That I cannot think up even the poorest joke about it.”

  They both laughed then, at which point Strifer Dyne saw fit to intervene. “We’re ready to go, guys,” he called, hoisting a satchel and rod over his right shoulder. “It’s in your own time, now.”

  The laughter subsided, to be replaced with set, tight-lipped smiles.

  “So,” said Lilac.

  “So,” said Benjamin.

  A quiet moment passed.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” said the boy.

  “Pleasure,” said Lilac. She offered him a hand. “And thank you ... for being such fine company.”

  Benjamin took hold of Lilac’s hand, believing it to have been offered as her part of a handshake. Instead, she pulled him towards her and engulfed him in a hug. “Be well,” she said. She kissed him on his forehead. “Be wonderful.”

  She smelled, he noticed, of roses. And though he quite liked being hugged by her, he was glad that it was brief, and no big deal. Apart again, she ruffled his hair. “You know,” he said, patting his hair back down. “That’s just what my mum would have done.”

  “What - the hug or the ruffling?”

  “The hug bit. She’s always doing things like that.”

  “Is that so,” Lilac responded, letting it trail off into nothing. Her dark and entrancing eyes shone brilliantly, like polished glass. But were they sad or happy? He couldn’t tell.

  “Think I’d better go now,” he said, feeling strangely bereft, as if he’d already said that final goodbye.

  “I think so too,” said the lady.

  He jumped on the rim of the saucer and took a few steps toward the centre. Then he turned to her once more. “I’ve just remembered,” he said. “I don't know how I’m supposed to get back here.”

  “I’ll find you,” said Lilac. “Or you can find me.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Just keep on chasing the silfs. You’ll see me, eventually.”

  The thrumming of the saucer deepened. And slowly, very slowly, it began to draw away from the pier. “What about the map?” He pointed to the one in Strifer’s hand. “I could use that.”

  “No,” said Lilac. “You couldn’t.”

  “Sorry,” he said, raising his voice a little to make sure that he was heard.

  “Don't be,” called Lilac. “You’d need a lifetime.”

  “I’ll come back.”

  “I know.”

  The saucer rose; the space between himself and Lilac widened. She raised a hand, and he did likewise.

  “I’ll watch out for the silfs,” he shouted.

  “I’ll watch out for you, too,” she cried.

  He would have said that he would watch out for the phragodols as well, but by then Lilac was too far away. Which was for the good, perhaps, as he felt it a bad note to end their parting upon. I’ll just chase the silfs and avoid the monsters, he thought; chase the dreams and keep away from the nightmares. He smiled, enjoying the poetry of it. “You’ll let her know I’m okay, won’t you?” he asked Strifer, as Lilac became smaller and smaller in his gaze. “You’ll let her know I got back safely?”

  “Sure,” said Strifer, looking over his shoulder as he busied himself with the console. “All done an’ dusted. She wouldn’t have let me take you otherwise.”

  “Good,” said Benjamin. “Thanks.” And he waved at her and she waved back, while the night-called swimmers splashed in the waters below, weaving dreams (probably) amid the ever widening sea.

  20

  He couldn’t say that he was missing Lilac already; he had only just left her, and had known her for no more than a day, anyway. Nevertheless, he did feel a curious hollowness inside himself as he watched her drift out of sight, as if their goodbyes were somehow final. He kept his gaze on the receding cityscape long after the lady was gone from view, and when it occurred to him that he might have forgotten something (like the broken gourd for instance) he felt a flush of joy at the idea of having to go back to her in order to retrieve it. But the gourd was still in his pocket, alas, though he wasn’t too disappointed; it was, in a way, a part of the parting itself, a memento of a good time spent together. And more, of course. As both an artefact of the world that housed it, and the repository of a dream that played some role, however small, in keeping that world alive, this was no mere souvenir. It was to
o personal for that, and too powerful in what it seemed to symbolise. But if it wasn’t some simple keepsake, then what was it? It’s important, he thought, tumbling it in his hands. To me, it’s important. And it doesn’t need to be anything else.

  He smiled to himself; it was good enough. Niamago - and Lilac - would always be close as long as that broken gourd was there. And he resolved never to lose it.

  ***

  The saucer was fast, and so incredibly smooth in its flight that it made Lilac’s bird-borne cage look positively cumbersome (though no less magical, it had to be said). It was nimble, too, and wove its way through the other vehicles, both departing and oncoming, with an ease and fluidity that seemed almost choreographed. As for the atulphi who piloted it - one Mr. Strifer Dyne - he was ... unusual. Not as unusual as Mickey Dim, perhaps, but certainly more so than Lilac.

  For a start, general chit-chat had revealed him to be a gadget-freak. Not that being a gadget-freak was unusual, of course. No, the unusual bit came in the shape his two favourite gadgets - the flying saucer and the Victorian electric guitar - and what he told of certain other devices he claimed to own, such as boots that allowed the wearer to walk on walls and ceilings (which Benjamin thought was excellent), a radio which could pick up the noise of colours (which Benjamin thought was strange), and a remote-control unit for his clothes (which Benjamin couldn’t understand, though it sounded intriguing). He had also vowed, he said, to get himself a similar control unit for his tattoos, and when the boy expressed nothing but utter incomprehension at this, he proceeded to demonstrate the second unusual thing that marked him as one of the more outlandish atulphi.

  He turned away from the control console, held up an intricately illustrated arm, and told the boy to watch. “I need to get my mood right,” he said. “Make sure they go fast enough for you to see.” He tightened his fist, then loosened it, flexing his muscles in the process. The tattoos moved a little. Again he bunched his fist, and this time the tattoos shifted themselves into a completely new design. Where there had once been florid arabesques, there was now a pattern of flowers and wires. “That’s the configuration of Gregorio’s last repast,” he explained, as if Benjamin was supposed to know what he meant. He then lowered his arm and shook it, at which the tattoos abruptly burst into hundreds of tiny commas that skittered, bug-like, around his skin before coming to rest as an image of criss-crossing, interlocking chains. “Great, huh?” he said, letting the arm drop. “But they’re not all that compliant sometimes, which is why I need the remote,” he continued. “They get aggressive when I’m around someone I don't like.”

  If nothing else, the fact that Strifer had been required to cajole his tattoos into action served well to show that he was probably okay with Benjamin’s company. As a result, the boy deemed it good time to ask him about his origins.

  “I come from Iowa originally,” the atulphi said, going back to his control console. “Can’t remember much, ‘cept that cornfield I used to meet Jay in. We used to hide from the rains.” He chuckled, shrugging the guitar that was slung over his shoulder into a more comfortable position. “Good times, good times. Then Jay got older, and forgot about me. Guess you know the story. Same kinda thing happened with Lilac. Happens with all of us.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I just waited, out there on the farm. Then one day - no, it was night - I see this guy fishing in the air. Piclo Taberneam his name was. He’s dead now. Told me all about this place, asked if I wanted to go with him. Seemed like a good idea. An’ it was, I guess.”

  “Is that how all the atulphi arrive here?”

  “Reckon so. I ain’t heard any story different. Apart from the Ruadahann, that is. Lilac tell you about him?”

  Benjamin thought back. “Yeah,” he said. “A bit of Father Christmas, a bit of Robin Hood -”

  “An’ a bit of Paul Bunyan, an’ every cowboy you probably heard of.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Keep looking over there,” said Strifer, pointing to an area of the horizon which, to judge by the last rays of the setting sun, was probably west. “You might see his island.”

  Benjamin looked, but saw nothing except the rolling sea and the glorious sky above - which were, in themselves, more than fascinating enough anyway. He watched as, overhead, the rippling bands of colour (which were fainter now, he saw) shimmered over the first few stars of night-time, while below, other colours shimmered amid the milky waves, beneath those reflected from above. It was beautiful, but strangely confusing to the eye. He recalled those faint, indistinct areas he’d seen when he had first crossed over to the Amar Imaga; and he remembered, too, that the crossing itself had been an uncomfortable business. But he didn’t worry about it much; in the face of such grandeur as provided by this otherworldly nightfall, there were better things to entertain oneself with.

  He turned around, to see if the moon - if this place could lay claim to such - had risen yet. It hadn’t, though the sweep of his gaze had led him, once again, to the coast of Niamago, and the sight of a city made celestial by its crown of weaving searchlights and glinting flares. Instinctively, he touched the gourd in his pocket, and wondered if the crash of the fireworks he then heard had come from his first great dream, or the city at play. Or maybe it had been part of the music, a certain cymbal-clash amongst the drumbeats that echoed out from the metropolis and came to his ears as a distant concert, waxing and waning on the sea air. Then there came another noise, like a chugging, as they passed a craft so splendidly lit that it appeared as a chandelier in the sky. Upon seeing it he was reminded of Lilac, and the elaborate creations that hung from the ceiling of her home. And then he thought of what she must be doing right now, and felt a pang of sadness as he pictured her meandering about the city like someone lost, calling out names and finding no reply. He hoped that what he knew of her was true; that she really was as indefatigable as she appeared, and that the moment of vulnerability on the pier was just that: a moment. In which case, he was sure she’d be conducting her search with a good deal more cheer than he imagined. Otherwise ... well, there was at least the comfort of knowing that the lady had survived long enough in Niamago without him. She’ll be all right, he said to himself, with as much certainty as he could muster. And with a wan smile and silent wish of goodwill to her, he returned his gaze to the horizon opposite, to the end of becoming so engrossed in looking out for the island of the Ruadahann that he might forget the bittersweet side of his departure.

  He saw it eventually, or so he thought. A spike of rock the size of a mountain, far out in the distance. Were there lights on it? He leaned over the railing, squinting - and was just on the verge of asking Strifer if he had a telescope when he noticed something flutter at the corner of his eye.

  It was a wasp, like the one he’d seen at Lilac’s flat. Same black and orange body, same fat, wicked-looking tail. It was sitting on the railing close to his right elbow, and as soon as he saw it he recoiled, making a small, girlish noise in his throat. “What’s up?” asked Strifer.

  “Oh, nothing,” said the boy, a tad embarrassed at how he’d flinched. “Just a wasp.”

  “A wasp? Where?”

  Benjamin pointed it out. “You have some really ugly bugs here, you know.”

  “We don’t -” then Strifer saw it. “Oh,” he said. Suddenly, his tattoos were rampant, coursing up and down his arms in oily streamers.

  “What is it?” said Benjamin.

  The atulphi made a move towards the creature, but it flew away before he had even the remotest chance of getting close. “It’s bad news,” he said, scratching at the shifting skin of his arms. He kept his eyes on the creature until it disappeared, and then - with his gaze still set on the area where he had last seen it - he quickly shrugged off his satchel and rod. “We’ve been followed,” he said, looking behind, ahead, above. “Keep watching.”

  Benjamin looked left, right, and all around; he saw nothing except the sea, the sky, the receding city and the pinprick ligh
t of the last craft they had overtaken. “What am I looking for?” he asked, feeling jittery and afraid. Whatever this ‘bad news’ was, it was made even worse by the fact that he was unable to see it.

  “Vespinner,” said Strifer, as he pulled a lead out from the back of his electric guitar and plugged it into the control console of his vehicle. “Now listen,” he said grimly. He hauled the guitar off his shoulder and handed it to the boy. “You’re going to have to take care of the thing while I get us on auto. It means I’ll have to pre-program our course, and it’ll take a little time - but it’s our best bet.” Once more he scanned the sky. “Look out for - for something that looks like a swarm. And when you see it, hit it!”

  The guitar fell awkwardly into Benjamin’s arms, though it was not as heavy as it appeared. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he said, grimacing as he looped the strap over his head. He had never even carried a guitar, let alone play one, and it showed.

  “When you see it -” Strifer tapped the headstock of the guitar “- aim this at it. All you have to do is strum. Don't even try to play, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Benjamin.

  “It should be enough,” said the atulphi, returning to the console. “It shouldn’t take long for us to get back.” He began to tap feverishly at the controls. “Hell, might even outrun the thing if we’re lucky.”

  “What thing?” asked Benjamin, as he stared aft and levelled the guitar like a rifle. At any other time, such a moment would have been as cool as hell. But not now. Now it was simply as chilling as hell.

  “Vespinner,” replied Strifer, intent on the console. “Gogmagog’s chief assassin and spy - or so the rumour goes.” For one second, it sounded as if there was a smile in his voice. “Never thought I’d see it. Dunno if I should feel privileged or ...”

  “Or what?” said the boy, as Strifer’s words petered out to silence. He swung round, fearing the worst - that this something, this Vespinner, had caught the atulphi unawares - and was relieved to see that nothing, as yet, had happened. Strifer was still standing, busy with the console, his tattoos raging in fountains of black fire.