Part 45 (1/2)

Aninka risked a laugh. Sounds familiar! Such has ever been our downfall, if we are to believe all the old stories!'

Lahash nodded. True. Ninka, you must know about the two factions in our society.'

Factions?' She wasn't sure.

Lahash nodded. They both want to find a way back to the source, to the One, but they have different methods. Many bloodlines believe we should try to emulate the ways of the Anannage, so that they will reveal themselves to us once more, and give back to us the knowledge of our ancestors. The others believe we should further our own knowledge to reopen the old stargate. My family belonged to the latter faction.'

I see,' Aninka said cautiously. She felt she belonged to neither faction. It all sounded very paranoid to her, similar to the conspiracy theories that many humans were so fond of inventing.

Lahash sighed. Well, when Kashday met Helen, we had no idea what a viper he was bringing into our nest. She was bright, too intelligent to be a dependant. Pretty soon, she guessed many of our so-called secrets, what really went on in the workrooms beneath the house, and other information she must have bullied out of Kashday. She wanted to become the Eye Priestess, the oracle. Kashday was foolish enough to believe she could be the gateway, the one who would open the closed thoroughfare to the Source.'

Aninka couldn't help expressing her surprise. But that's just a legend, surely! They didn't really believe they could accomplish it.'

Lahash shook his head. Ninka, the majority of our people are kept in ignorance. There is more truth in the old stories than you know. A perpetual flame burned in this place, but it was diminis.h.i.+ng. We could draw sustenance from it, but we could not pa.s.s through it and use it as a gateway. Neither could we draw energies from the stars back through it to this world. Kashday persuaded the family to allow him to use Helen as Priestess for the fire festival at the Corn-Cutting. Lammas. It took some doing, but eventually he wore down all the arguments. Claimed he knew what he was doing. I think he did, but Helen was no Ishtahar. When she went into the flame, the gate opened, yes, but it incurred only the wrath of the elders. Something came through. The Parzupheim were alerted and sent out the Kerubim to attack us. We had no choice but to scatter. Most of us were killed, and the survivors were taken into confinement. It was terrible, a real mess.'

Aninka regarded him thoughtfully. Half of her didn't want to believe what he'd said, yet he spoke with such simple sincerity. Lahash did not seem like Enniel and other power holding Grigori she had met, tight with secrecy and veiled insinuations. Lahash said little, but when he did speak, his words made sense.

You are looking at me as if I'm mad,' Lahash said. Do you think I'm making this up?'

Aninka shook her head. No, of course not. But it just seems so... incredible. What happened to this woman, Helen? Was she killed?'

Lahash shrugged. I don't know. That is, she survived Lammas night, but having once entered the flame, I wonder how much longer she could have carried on living a normal life afterwards. Anyway, it's irrelevant. She was human, and her knowledge was limited. Kashday and Helen were hung up on the old stories, the romance of them. They must have seen themselves as Shemyaza and Ishtahar, and believed their communion possessed the same power. The instinct to re-enact such a cycle must be strong in our family's genetic blueprint. Kashday and Helen's love for one another ruined them both, ruined the family and the lives of many villagers down there, too.'

And Peverel Othman arrives at the site of this devastation,' Aninka said quietly. What a coincidence!'

It's obvious Othman has sniffed out the residue of the flame here, and is attempting to resurrect it. We left guardians, and quenched the flame as best we could, but now...?' Lahash looked around himself. You can feel it, can't you? A pressure of impending power.'

Aninka shuddered in the oppressive heat. That's an amazing story, Lahash.'

He smiled. Well, what I've told you is very condensed. There was more to it than that.'

One day, I would like to hear it all.'

His smile widened into a pleased grin. Then one day, I will tell you, but it would take some time.'

Aninka reached out and briefly touched one of his hands. Let's hope we have it, then.'

He stood up. We will.' He lifted the binoculars to his face once more, his voice distant, as if sucked away from them, down the hill to the village and the silent, looming house of his exiled family. We will go a restaurant together, and we will drink expensive wine and enjoy good food, and I shall tell you all my stories.'

And afterwards?' Aninka asked.

He laughed. I'd have thought you'd had enough of Anakim to last you a lifetime.'

You are not Anakim,' Aninka said.

Lahash turned to look at her, the binoculars held at his chest. Your guardian may not approve of your plans.'

I'll tell him I want to hire you as a bodyguard.' She affected a dramatic posture. I've been through so much. I'm afraid of being alone now.'

Lahash shook his head. still grinning, before resuming his inspection of the surrounding countryside. She knew she had pleased him.

Lily stood in the hall of Long Eden, looking around herself in wonder and fear. I am inside, at last. I am really inside. The house seemed removed from reality, utterly still and silent, permeated only by a dingy light which leaked through the murky greens and golds of the stained gla.s.s window over the stairs. There was a sweet, musty smell of age, common to old houses, mixed with a faint mushroom tang of dry rot. It was hard to imagine anyone having ever lived there. Raven stood patiently as Lily walked around touching the panelling on the walls, gazing up at the great metal chandeliers high overhead. Her footsteps echoed, even though she was only wearing rubber-soled pumps on her feet. She felt as if time was hanging suspended in the dusty air. What was she supposed to do? Just look around? There seemed no message for her there; no sense of welcome, or even of attention. If the house watched her, it did so covertly.

Raven said nothing, and when she addressed questions to him, he remained silent, as if he'd said all he was ever going to say to her. She did not like looking at him directly, because his appearance was too unearthly. Gazing at him would only force her to admit that the world she had inhabited since childhood was a fragile, friable thing. Monsters could walk out of the shadows at any time to alter perceptions for ever.

How could I have been so unaware of all this? Lily wondered, her fingers running over an intricate carving, sticky with old wax. It has always been part of me. Why couldn't I feel it? She peered at the carved pictures on the panelling, saw men and women with wings and fringed robes marching sideways towards a spoked globe. She touched the globe lightly. They entered here. They entered into it... She wished she knew the meaning of her thoughts.

Something moved at the back of the hall. Lily thought she saw a brief flash of muted white in the shadows. An echo of female laughter moved the air, set the chandelier swaying overhead. Now the house had flexed its bones, woken up. It would present its ghosts to her.

Mum?' Lily moved towards the shadows, thinking she should be afraid, but feeling only curious and, in a way, impatient.

A corridor at the rear of the hall led off to the left. Lily cautiously peered around the corner, conscious of Raven still standing motionless nearby. The corridor appeared lit by a subterranean looking, blue-green light, but there was no indication as to its source. Should I go down here?' Lily asked aloud.

Raven did not reply, but swiftly walked past her, his tall shape diminis.h.i.+ng quickly down the corridor. Lily felt she would rather remain with Raven, despite the absurdity of his appearance, than be left alone. She followed him.

There was no furniture in the corridor, not even a painting on the walls. The floor beneath her feet was of bare tiles, whose colours were now indiscernible through the dust and grime that had collected over the years. Lily was a little disappointed by what she saw around herself. Everything was so bare, everything had been removed. She had hoped to walk into a shrine to the Murkasters, with the furnis.h.i.+ngs neatly covered in white sheets, simply waiting for people to come back and live there once more. Now, just by being there and breathing the dead air, Lily knew in her heart that the Murkasters never intended to come back. All they had left behind them were the phantoms of their lives. There were no physical treasures to be uncovered. I should be dancing along these halls, in the dark, dressed in bright silks with ancient gold around my throat, Lily thought. They should have left something behind for me, a skin to wear, a looking-gla.s.s reflecting only history... The house wove a spell over her, as if melancholy dreams drifted down from the cobwebbed corners.

Ahead of her, on the left of the corridor, a door swung silently open, spilling a wan light over the floor tiles. Raven halted in his tracks without looking round, and Lily paused. The doorway stood between them now. She thought she could hear a sound, and strained her perceptions to decipher it, but it ebbed and flowed in her mind like a badly tuned radio. Voices, they are voices. Once Lily had identified the sound, it became clearer. She heard a low conversation, men speaking quickly.

What does this woman mean?'

He is out of his mind.'

But the flame, the flame? What about the flame?'

Can he do it?'

No.'

Yes. He might.'

It could be the end of all our work.'

Or the harvest of all our work.'

Lily hurried past. She felt if she lingered too long, her presence would be registered, even though she knew she was only hearing a replay of something that had happened a long time ago.

The corridor opened out into a circular hall, where a mosaic pattern on the floor depicted a brace of male peac.o.c.ks with their tails intertwined. A skylight in the ceiling picked out what remained of the colours of the tiles: ruby, indigo, blue and gold. Here the air smelled faintly perfumed, as if a woman had walked through it wearing Oriental scent, or once a sweet incense had been burned. Raven stood in the centre of the peac.o.c.k design, his arms folded on his breast. All Lily could see of his face were the lambent embers of his burning eyes. She hesitated before him. Where now?

A sound came, like someone opening a window with rusty hinges, followed by a m.u.f.fled crash; something falling, shattering. Then, the distant laughter, and more clearly, the low, sultry tone of a woman singing. Lily could not make out the words. Perhaps they were in a foreign language. The song called to her, invited her body to sway to its rhythm. Lily felt as if the song could carry her away, lift her bodily from the floor, so that she could float around in the air, brus.h.i.+ng the ceiling with her fingertips. She lifted her arms high, standing on tip-toes, waiting, waiting, for someone to take her hands and lift her up.

A flickering white shape flitted past her, and abruptly the singing stopped. Lily gasped, and nearly fell, as if she really had been floating just above the ground. Someone stood just behind and to the left of Raven: a woman in a summer dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. She was smiling, but there was something flat and flickering about her appearance, as if she was merely a projection of an old film, playing upon the shadows.

Mum!' Lily reached out to this apparition, but it had already disappeared. Behind the spot where Helen had appeared, a door swung open, and a white light came out, as of bright daylight. With it came a scent of gardens, strawberries and red wine. Raven took a step to the side and turned to look into the light. Taking this as encouragement, Lily cautiously moved closer to the door. Had Helen pa.s.sed this way?

Inside, the room was furnished. Heavy tapestries covered the walls, depicting tall winged figures in robes, similar to those on the panelling in the main hall, but here more majestic and stylised. Lily was reminded of Egyptian wall paintings found only, she presumed, in tombs. The room was dominated by a colourful painting, which hung above the great hearth, where no fire burned. Lily looked at the painting and recognised her own face, even though the woman depicted there appeared to be of ancient Middle Eastern origin, dressed in the robes of a priestess and adorned with gold. Lily was drawn by the painting and stepped across the threshold. As she did so, she realised the room was not empty and that a man was sitting at an enormous desk, his head in his hands. As she entered the room, he looked up. Here you are,' he said. My tormentor, my love.' His dark red hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, but poured forward over his shoulders. He was perhaps the most beautiful man she had ever seen, other than Peverel Othman. He wore an expression of cynical resignation. He reminded her of Owen.