Part 7 (1/2)

'Are you there?' she called and approached the alcove.

Cold air was welling up from below carrying a dank reek of decay. The walls glimmered with a putrid green.

' I've been alone so long. Like you, Victoria. But together... I've been alone so long. Like you, Victoria. But together... ' '

'I'm coming,' she whispered and started down the crumbling steps.

She went down step by step, clinging to the damp wall, using the staff for support. She called out again but there was no reply. The cold air devoured sound, sense and hope. She reached the foot of the stairs and the glimmering light revealed some sort of private chapel. There were faded paintings on the walls, dancing monsters in once-gaudy robes. She s.h.i.+vered with the cold. There was a groan from the far end of the dark chamber.

' Victoria? Are you there? Victoria? Are you there? ' '

'Yes. I'm here.' She could just make out an archway with something strung across its portal like a cobweb.

' Release me. Release me. ' The pitiful voice came from beyond the arch. ' The pitiful voice came from beyond the arch.

'I heard you. I've come all this way.' She went closer and saw that the web was composed of coloured threads, all intermeshed and stretched across the opening. It was a Tibetan spirit trap, built to contain evil and malevolent demons.

Filaments of waving gossamer had caught on the strings.

Inside the trap, something shuffled in the shadows.

' I said, release me! I can endure the darkness no longer! I said, release me! I can endure the darkness no longer! ' '

She tried to see through the mesh, but could make out only a dark, hunched figure in the gloom. 'I don't know. How can I be sure? They said you were dead. But in the dreams...'

' Victoria. Victoria. ' His voice was suddenly calm with authority. It was familiar. Something she could not doubt. ' His voice was suddenly calm with authority. It was familiar. Something she could not doubt.

'Father,' she said. The sense of relief and recognition went beyond the circ.u.mstance. From her heart she said, 'Yes, of course I'll help you.'

Inside the trap, a bony hand was reaching out to her. She raised the abbot's ceremonial staff and thrust it into the web.

A roar of green flame.

Victoria stumbled back, s.h.i.+elding her face. Burning threads were falling all around her. She heard the tap-tap-tap of a stick and the rasping of breath. A figure was shuffling against the light, emerging from the archway. Victoria fell to the floor staring up in disbelief.

This wasn't her father at all. It was delusion. Its ancient features were wasted and slack. Its white hair and beard matted; its eyes sunken and blind. Blind like all the people in this G.o.d-forsaken place. Yet she knew the face. It was an uninvited memory resurrected. Lost in time like her.

'You!' she whispered.

His white stick touched her.

The figure faltered. Its voice, the voice that had been in her head for so long, was fierce and tortured. 'Find me the Locus!'

it commanded.

She heard the tinkling of bells, the fluttering of prayer flags and a surge of demonic laughter.

The darkness forced itself into her head. It devoured her thoughts and senses. It swamped her consciousness. She sank under its weight.

'Well,' said Charles 'you've led us a fine dance, I must say.'

To her drowsy eyes, he looked like a hovering angel, his yellow hair s.h.i.+ning. She closed them again and went back to sleep.

When she woke again, she saw that he was still sitting close at hand. Beyond him, the ceiling and walls were a sort of munic.i.p.al conformist cream colour. There was a strong smell of something clinical. Very soothing.

This time, the third time she woke, he said, 'Well, are we going to have a conversation for a change?'

She groaned and felt a sharp pain in one of her arms. But at least it would keep her awake.

'h.e.l.lo,' he said very gently.

She tried to talk, but her throat felt like a cheese-grater.

'Don't worry, sweetheart. You're in hospital in Kathmandu. Everything's fine now.'

She managed a vague smile and was content to lie and let him talk, although everything he said seemed to get jumbled up in her thoughts.

She had been flown back from Lukla. That was two days ago. Did she want a drink? Tundu and Sonam had brought her out, carried her back. She was managing a bit of solid food now. They had all been very worried. She was doing well.

They thought it was alt.i.tude sickness. He had squared it with the British Emba.s.sy. She shouldn't move too much. Did she want a drink? The burns were healing quickly.

'That's good,' she murmured drowsily.

'Iodine,' she said and managed to sit up. 'That's what I can smell.'

Charles looked startled. 'Well, you're you're much better, aren't you?' much better, aren't you?'

She slid back into the sheets. 'How long have I been asleep?'

'About ten days on and off. Mostly off. We were very worried.'

'Yes. I remember, you said.'

He sighed. 'They want to fly you home as soon as possible.'

'Good. I don't think I can manage that by myself...not at the moment.' The grin that spread across his face puzzled her.

'Don't you ever take things seriously?' she said.