One further event caused great destruction. On the morning after the collapse, a sea storm appeared on the horizon, anvil-headed clouds approaching the city until the shower clouds of dawn had been blown away and replaced by a grey mass sending down lightning. Thunder cracked and a ferocious cold rain swept the darkened city. The sea was churned into a maelstrom. For two hours the great storm hurled hail, rain, and spat lightning bolts.
When it passed, the entire city was covered in a pale green slime. It was as if the sea, upset by something, had vomited over Kray.
Damage to buildings was considerable. All houses in shaky condition had collapsed. Those of fair state were now shaky. Only the best maintained houses survived the battering, losing slates and external decoration.
Arrahaquen sheltered in deKray’s maisonette, where she slept after Graaff-lin refused to lodge her. Woken and terrified by the storm, she slept only fitfully, awaking without memory of dreams and thus uncertain of the reality of what she was experiencing. This disconcerting sensation was turning her into something of an insomniac. Pressed by Zinina and deKray into prophesying the immediate future, but unable to see anything other than a dead green city, she became tetchy, tried too hard to foresee, failed, and grew even more irritated. At length she decided to return to her temple, impelled by the news that, having lost the door cards, deKray’s maisonette was no longer secure.
It was well after dark when she walked along the west wall of the city, rifle primed and ready, her boots squelching and slipping in the green slime, then hastened up Red Lane and along to the temple.
Lamps were lit and doors were open, though the booth was gone – only women of the Goddess were welcome now. Considering that it had been attacked by what must have been a large force it was, Arrahaquen thought, in good condition.
To her surprise, Tashyndy and Arvendyn were waiting for her. Tashyndy took her hand and, stroking it, said, ‘We’re so glad to see you. We were worried that you’d been killed.’
Arrahaquen looked around, at the bullet holes and the smashed wood. ‘I can see you weren’t.’
‘We survived.’
Arrahaquen could think of no answer to this. It did not sound like any defence at all. She glanced down at bloodstained wood. Yes, it had happened. She had been caught up in it. And she knew now why so few Citadel Guard had been on the tumulus when it was stormed.
‘We are well,’ Tashyndy continued, ‘all the more so for seeing you. Where are you living?’
‘Here, I suppose.’
‘But the others? Zinina, and the loose man?’
‘They have their own safe house,’ Arrahaquen replied, uncomfortable with these questions.
Tashyndy and Arvendyn encouraged Arrahaquen into a side chamber set out with soft cushions, pitchers of water, and dishes filled with fruit and crumbly biscuits. Arrahaquen knew that she was being interrogated. But why? Both priestesses were interested in Arrahaquen’s thoughts; her ideas, her desires and fears for the future. Talking to them, Arrahaquen began to realise that they were a little afraid of her, and so the vexing problem of her prophetic facility came to mind. She decided to test them.
‘How do you intend surviving? she asked.
‘What you see about you,’ and here Arvendyn gestured to the wood panels of the room, ‘is merely the tip of our vast stores sunk into the ground, tapering at its root like a parsnip. I reckon we’ve got everything we need here.’
Stunned as she was by this revelation, Arrahaquen sensed something wrong. She said, feeling her unconscious self stirring up disbelief, ‘I think not. You aren’t self-sufficient in food, are you? Your stocks will fail eventually, and all you grow is seasonal. In midwinter, you will grow nothing, and you won’t have enough to last through until the summer.’
They looked at one another. ‘Maybe,’ Arvendyn said, ‘but we could last for a long time.’
‘Months only,’ Arrahaquen said, using a slightly derisory voice.
‘Do you really think so?’ Tashyndy asked.
‘Let me tell you,’ Arrahaquen replied, pleased with her bluff, ‘this city will be nothing but green soon.’ She paused. Perhaps that was too much. She did not want them to know for sure that she was a pythoness. ‘That’s my guess, anyway,’ she ended.
A knowing look came into Arvendyn’s eyes. ‘I see.’
Arrahaquen stood up and said, ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to be living with Zinina and deKray for now. Or maybe I’ll go somewhere else.’
They stood with her, apparently happy. ‘Come back soon.’ It seemed a trite reply, and Arrahaquen found herself annoyed by them. She was glad all four had not questioned her.
Leaving the temple, she returned safely to deKray’s cliffside house, but he and Zinina were asleep and she had to wake them up – quietly, so as to avoid the attention of local revellers – to be let in. At last a bleary-eyed Zinina opened the door, rather grumpily removing the improvised bars and chains. On a couch, unable to sleep, Arrahaquen considered her options. Only one remained: they must all move in with the Holists. The loss of deKray’s cards made it inevitable. Besides, there was no time now for pride.
CHAPTER 21
Arrahaquen woke to hear Zinina and deKray talking in animated tones at the front door. She jumped out of bed, put on her gown, and joined them. There were thuds and grunts emanating from somewhere outside the door.
She sensed danger. ‘Open it quickly,’ she said.
Zinina unbarred and opened the door. Arrahaquen peered outside to see two figures brawling, both armed with knives, a short woman and a taller, cloaked woman. ‘Stop!’ she shouted.
They both looked up, startled. Zinina leaped across to them and, before they could make any defence, hit the taller woman on her upper right arm with the side of her hand, twisting around immediately to kick the knife out of the other woman’s hand. The two were so surprised they simply stood still.
‘Now what the damn Kray’s going on here?’ Zinina demanded. She sniffed at the taller woman. ‘You’re a reveller, ain’t you?’
‘Wait, wait,’ the smaller woman said, turning to Arrahaquen. ‘I’ve come a long way to see you, Arrahaquen–’
She knew her name! ‘Who are you?’ Arrahaquen asked as Zinina picked up both knives.
‘Don’t you recognise me?’
‘Hoy,’ Zinina interrupted, threatening the reveller as she tried to sidle away. ‘Stay put or get the point.’
No future memories made this woman’s face recognisable. ‘I don’t know you,’ Arrahaquen replied. ‘What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?’
The woman seemed to relax. ‘I am Surqjna of the Red Brigade, Arrahaquen, come to tell you, amongst other things, that your mother is dead.’
Arrahaquen had guessed this already. She felt no sadness to hear it confirmed. She felt nothing. ‘Really,’ she said, trying to sound sarcastic. ‘I suppose you’re the new Portreeve of Kray, then?’
‘There’ll be no more Portreeves,’ Surqjna replied. ‘I’m here to offer salvation. I know everything, Arrahaquen. We must talk. You know of the pyuter hearts, I believe. They’re still within our grasp. We can talk with them.’
Arrahaquen hesitated. The story felt true. She turned to the other woman. Imperiously, she said, ‘Who are you and why were you fighting on our doorstep?’
‘This no-bloom began spiking me as I approached.’
‘This reveller’s been here before,’ Zinina said to Arrahaquen. ‘She tried to attack me and deKray a few weeks back.’
‘You can come inside,’ Arrahaquen told Surqjna. ‘Disarm yourself first. Any quick moves and Zinina will disable you.’
Surqjna laughed. ‘I know of this fiery wench,’ she remarked, looking Zinina up and down. ‘Ammyvryn spoke well of you, Zinina.’
Zinina’s eyes were wide, her mouth open. ‘What?’ she managed.
‘Just come in,’ Arrahaquen said. She turned to the reveller. ‘You can be off. If you return I’ll set Zinina on you.’
T
hey trooped inside and went to deKray’s main room. Surqjna said, ‘Quite a collection you have here, deKray. Collected them yourself?’
‘Forget the pleasantries,' Zinina said. ‘What’s all this about what you’ve heard of me?’
‘Still the sparky one,’ Surqjna said, with what seemed a touch of contempt. Zinina said nothing. ‘Yes, Ammyvryn noticed you because of your skill and diligence as a Citadel Guard. In fact, now I come to think of it, I myself passed over you while searching for transformer controllers on the tumulus’ west side.’
‘Passed over?’ Zinina said.
‘You and Gishaad-lin were to be posted there and made third class Citadel defenders. But you deserted before the appointments were made.’
Zinina shrugged. Arrahaquen waited, happy to listen to these exchanges, anxious to keep Surqjna talking as much as possible, both to glean clues and to allow her unconscious mind space to feel out the future.
‘My time was over,’ Zinina said. ‘I did the right thing.’
Surqjna seemed disconcerted by this show of confidence. She nodded and said, ‘Anyhow, that’s all in the past.’
Arrahaquen agreed. ‘You mentioned the noophytes,’ she said.
‘We have one chance remaining. Does the name Gwmru mean anything to you?’
DeKray made to speak, but Arrahaquen stopped him. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I’ll be plain,’ Surqjna said. ‘I’ve no other choice. The pyuter hearts live in an abstract country called Gwmru. We have to enter that land and seek them out, to find out what they know of Kray... and of escaping it.’
‘I see. But how? And would they listen to us?’
‘I used to be in the Red Brigade,’ Surqjna said with some vehemence. ‘Of course they would.’
Arrahaquen pounced. ‘Then why did they leave you and the city?’
‘Because the Portreeve and the others did not listen hard enough. The pyuter hearts told us to jump into the Spaceflower. But on the night of the Citadel collapse the Portreeve lost her nerve–’
‘And you survived?’ Arrahaquen asked.
‘Yes–’
‘How? How exactly?’
Surqjna retained her composure. ‘The rocket was due to launch at a preset time. I merely vanished at the appropriate moment, realising that the Portreeve’s plan was failing. The other cowards left without me.’
Arrahaquen believed this to be true. ‘Hmmm,’ she said, ‘but how can we travel to Gwmru?’
‘This is where you come in. Some time ago, you were the victim of some assassination attempts.’
Arrahaquen felt her heart leap at the mention of this. ‘Yes, I was.’
‘I heard about it. Our sentient mechanician Majaq-Aqhaj made a pyuton identical to you in all respects–’
‘She did, she did.’
‘–and that pyuton should possess a third eye, unless its skull has been damaged.’
Arrahaquen cast her mind back to those dreadful days. 'Why are you telling me this?’
‘You must return to the Citadel,’ Surqjna said, ‘collect the third eye, and bring it here.'
Arrahaquen continued her act. ‘Then what?’ she asked.
Surqjna replied, ‘Then you must take a risk, daughter of Ammyvryn. The third eye of a pyuton is not merely some receptacle of memory. It is amongst other things a casket of viruses. If you have the courage, and the desire to journey to Gwmru, you must accept the third eye into your brain, where these viruses will construct for you an interface. With this interface, your mind can travel to and around Gwmru.’
Arrahaquen looked at deKray, who seemed fascinated, and at Zinina, who looked repelled. ‘Is it dangerous? she asked.
‘It is perilous, yes,’ Surqjna replied, ‘but it must be done. We need to, for the sake of Kray. I myself have an interface. I could enter Gwmru now.’
‘And have you ever?’
‘No.’
DeKray began to roll a cigarette. ‘Why not?’ he asked.
‘Because of the risk of disturbing the pyuter hearts. Besides, there was no need to. Deese-lin and Spyne were our contacts.’
‘And your job was...?’ Arrahaquen asked.
Surqjna paused, thumped her fists upon her chair, and said, ‘I was in charge of constructing the rocket. Hah! What an irony. I worked westside.’
DeKray lit his cigarette. ‘How precisely is the innerai taken into the body?’
‘A line of narcotic powder is placed upon a surface, such as a table, and the third eye is dropped into it. With a paper tube, Arrahaquen would have to sniff up the third eye with this powder, so that it reaches her sinus. From there, the viruses will break into her forebrain and construct the interface. There will be some external scar tissue, obviously, when the interface grows out of her forehead.’
Arrahaquen’s stomach turned. Zinina had turned pale.
‘I see,’ said deKray, puffing away. ‘I see.’
‘Will I be disfigured? Arrahaquen asked.
‘It would be no larger than a finger nail.’
‘But where’s yours?’ Surqjna’s forehead seemed whole.
‘Mine came out elsewhere,’ Surqjna said, bitterly.
‘Where?’
‘You need not know.’
All these revelations made Arrahaquen’s head spin. She sensed both truth and falsehood around the figure of Surqjna.
‘You say that the artificial interface is corporeal,’ deKray said, ‘carried upon the integument. But to what does it connect externally?’
Now Surqjna looked uncomfortable.
‘Gwmru,’ she said, ‘is reached through the medium of male pyutons. Each is physically fixed, chained like men should be, but each is connected to the Citadel by a powered network, and thus connected to the country of Gwmru. It is with the serpents that your forehead will connect.’
Arrahaquen laughed from sheer astonishment. ‘The serpents are male pyutons? Anyway, the city networks are dead, and the serpents are dead. Have you forgotten that?’
‘Those public networks most intimately associated with the Citadel’s own are self-powered, though eventually they will expire. And there is a technique of calling to life a lifeless serpent. It is merely because the pyuter hearts have moved elsewhere that the serpents flop in their alcoves. Think of them not as dead, but as weak-minded or unconscious.’
Arrahaquen felt unable to challenge Surqjna. Too much had been said, and she knew she would never be able to disentangle the truth from the lies.
‘I will do it,’ she said. But on her own terms.
‘Good. When will you return to the Citadel?’
‘Tonight. Come here tomorrow at dawn.’
Surqjna nodded. ‘Tomorrow night we will be walking in Gwmru and finding out the truth of the pyuter hearts’ plans. For Kray.’
They saw Surqjna out of the house. She claimed to have a safehome off Judico Street. Returning, the three sat and looked at one another in silence.
DeKray spoke first. ‘Now I understand the replica’s remark that male pyutons are in the streets.’ He rolled yet another cigarette, and tapped the twisted weed on his baccy tin. ‘Clearly, pyutons carry a uterine technology – a flower, if you like – allowing them access to Gwmru. A human has to ingest an innerai by an artificial method, however.’ He paused. ‘This supports my theory of noophyte origins. Entering Gwmru, their identities became electronic, hence the substitution of the symbol of the womb for their faces. But I think it is too risky.’
‘We’ll be there with you, Arrahaquen,’ Zinina said.
‘No you will not,’ Arrahaquen replied firmly. ‘This is something I have to do alone.’
‘But the risk...’ deKray muttered.
‘Well, we’re not staying here, Arrahaquen,’ Zinina said. ‘If you do go with that cold harridan we’re leaving for Clodhoddle Cottage. It’s not safe here any more, what with revellers hanging about like flies. The Holists will shelter us.’
‘That is up to you,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘But I have no intention of entering the
Citadel. I think that’s some sort of trap. DeKray, hand me Laspetosyne’s innerai. I’ll pretend it’s my replica’s.’
DeKray did as he was told. ‘But that is the innerai of a noophyte,’ he said, unwrapping a new packet of sweets, and popping one into his mouth. ‘Who knows what special effect it may have upon your forebrain?’
‘I must risk it,’ said Arrahaquen.
‘Have you foreseen success?’ Zinina asked.
‘I’ve foreseen nothing yet, except half-truths hanging around Surqjna. But I’ve got to risk it if we’re going to contact the noophytes. And we have another aid – my replica. She too must be able to enter Gwmru, by mating with a serpent without Surqjna’s knowledge. She could protect me.’
Zinina’s face lit up. ‘Of course! She’ll go to Gwmru and help you.’
‘Tomorrow evening.' Arrahaquen said, ‘once Surqjna and I have departed, you two are to pack everything and leave for Clodhoddle Cottage. Once I have returned from Gwmru, I’ll lose Surqjna then meet you there. Have medical equipment ready in case I’m injured or ill.’
‘We will,’ Zinina promised, though deKray looked unhappy at the prospect of leaving his home. ‘What if Surqjna attacks you?’ she added.
Arrahaquen shook her head. ‘Couldn’t you tell? If she does need me, she needs me alive. No, she’ll not harm me. Now, listen. Tonight we’ll call Graaff-lin and tell her what’s going on. We need the replica over here as soon as possible.’
This they did. Graaff-lin was wholly against the mission, but eventually they wore her down and the replica was sent to Gur-Lossom Street. That night, Arrahaquen managed only one hour’s sleep. She tried in vain to relax, drinking dooch and even a tot of uz to make her relax, but she was too nervous. Her mind was confused. Images of the future, if such they were, entered her mind’s eye misty and useless. She was simply too agitated.
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