Memory Seed

by Stephen Palmer

Arrahaquen, from the corridor leading to the back rooms, waved her along. Zinina ran, charging up the weapon and shaking out its sights. Anger surged through her body; she almost relished the chance for aggression.

  ‘Take that side,’ said Arrahaquen, pointing to the right window of the kitchen. Reyl was with them, already poking the muzzle of her needle rifle through a port in the door. From her kennel outside, the sweathound Woof howled.

  ‘Shush,’ Reyl said. ‘I can hear voices.’

  They quietened. Zinina hissed at deKray for silence as he ran into the kitchen, then listened. It sounded like a pyuter synthesised voice, but she could not make out the words. ‘Any memories to help us?’ she whispered to Arrahaquen.

  ‘I thought I had remembered this,’ Arrahaquen replied, ‘but I thought it was to do with a journey we must soon make. I got confused. This is earlier than I guessed.’

  Zinina nodded, aware now that she should not chide Arrahaquen for her lack of precision. Gishaad-lin hurried into the room. ‘It’s you,’ she told Zinina, ‘it’s you they want.’

  Zinina stood. ‘Me?’

  ‘Eskhatos says come to the front rig room.’

  Zinina followed Gishaad-lin to the front of the house, a feeling of dread within her, for she knew that, if there were revellers outside requesting her by name, this was a matter of life or death; all or nothing. This was her Cemetery past catching up with her.

  Eskhatos told her to listen to sound picked up by the spy statue in the garden. Zinina listened.

  ‘...want. It’s only Zinina. We know the shouster’s in there...’

  ‘They want you,’ Eskhatos said. ‘There’s seventeen of them. They detonated the forward land mine. Who are they?’

  Zinina looked at the pyuter screen, seeing a few figures huddled in the shadows of the gardens, but recognising no faces. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Somebody from my past, I suspect.’

  ‘Why do they want`you?’

  ‘To drag me back to the Cemetery,’ she said.

  ‘Stay here. We can’t afford to admit your presence. I’ll talk to them, but I want you here to advise me.’

  Eskhatos told the house pyuter to connect her to the sound system of the garden statue. ‘Revellers,’ she began, ‘leave this house at once. The whole garden is mined. You have lost friends, lost shousters, already – we saw it happen. We have you under surveillance. This Zinina to whom you refer is not here.’

  There came jeers of laughter, and a gun fired one shot into the air. ‘We know she’s in there,’ said the megaphone voice. ‘One minute, no-bloom! One more minute and then we scrap-wood ya all.’

  Eskhatos frowned at Zinina. ‘What do we do?’

  Zinina just stood, her mind a blank.

  Eskhatos called to Gishaad-lin, ‘Go get Arrahaquen, then stay with Reyl on the back doors. Get Qmoet and Ky upstairs, and the replica, in case they climb upon the roof. Bring deKray back here.’

  Gishaad-lin ran off. ‘I can’t think of anything,’ Zinina said, hardly able to look Eskhatos in the eye.

  Arrahaquen and deKray appeared. Eskhatos, the minute up, said through the address system, ‘Revellers, go home. We are twelve in number here, and none are named Zinina.’

  ‘Duck!’ Arrahaquen yelled.

  They fell to the floor as an explosion tore plaster and masonry from the front wall. Arrahaquen, her face pale, said, ‘They’ve got a laser cannon. Goddess, they must have filched it from under the Citadel.’

  ‘We can’t stand up to that,’ hissed Eskhatos.

  ‘I’m not giving myself up,’ Zinina said, retreating from them.

  ‘Wait,’ Arrahaquen said, pulling her back and drawing her close. ‘I’d fight for your life, Zinina. Listen, have these revellers ever seen you since you left them?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ Zinina replied. Another laser cannon burst shattered brickwork upstairs.

  ‘They must have followed you back from the Cemetery after releasing deKray,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘It’s the only connection.’

  ‘I am rather afraid that I did mention your name,’ deKray said, ‘not knowing the consequences of my deed.’

  ‘Shush!’ Arrahaquen demanded. ‘It was very dark,’ she told Zinina, gripping her by the shoulders, ‘and there were three of you – deKray, Qmoet and you. They wouldn’t have seen much of you.’

  ‘So? So?’ Zinina snapped.

  ‘We’ll dress the replica in your clothes and send her out. It’s our only chance.’

  ‘What? But she’s taller than me.’

  ‘We’ll do it,’ Arrahaquen insisted, letting Zinina go and turning to Eskhatos. ‘Eskhatos, they might not recognise her. Zinina was very young when she left the Cemetery.’

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ Eskhatos replied, flinching as the house took another hit. ‘Arrahaquen, run and get Zinina’s clothes. Zinina, call the replica then come straight back.’

  DeKray coughed. ‘You are sending that valuable pyuton to certain death,’ he said. ‘Is that reasonable?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Zinina told him as she ran to the stairwell and shouted for the pyuton.

  DeKray was not to be silenced. ‘What will happen when they kill the pyuton?’ he continued. ‘They will see no blood.’

  ‘Idiot,’ Zinina said. ‘Revellers only shoot and cut other people, street people. They’ve got strict codes on blood letting. They won’t slice the pyuton, they’ll tie her to the ancestor pole then bury her alive. Now shut up.’

  Arrahaquen returned with Zinina’s leggings, boots, shirt and protectives. The replica donned them, then ran with Arrahaquen and Zinina to the outer door.

  Zinina took hold of the pyuton and breathlessly instructed her, ‘You’re to be me, right? If they catch you, you stay silent – pretend you swore an oath to the green woman to shut up, right? Green woman. You don’t say anything else. Now get out and run, try to hide from them. You’ve got to escape, got to run...’ Zinina almost ran out of inspiration, ‘... to deKray’s old place. Now go!’

  They pushed her out of the door, then bolted and barred it and returned to Eskhatos in the front rig room.

  ‘What are the revellers doing?’ Zinina asked.

  ‘They’ve all run away,’ Eskhatos said, ‘following the replica.’

  ‘They only wanted me,’ said Zinina, ‘they weren’t interested in you lot at all. See, they’ve got codes of honour.’

  ‘Quiet, young lady,’ Eskhatos said. ‘We are far from safe. I want you to go down to the cellar and fetch every last mine we have. Arrahaquen, you and Reyl and Ky will go out to re-mine the garden.’

  ~

  The Holists kept a continuous guard. In the back of Zinina’s mind – and, she presumed, everybody else’s – was the thought that Clodhoddle Cottage had been identified as an occupied house, and that meant perpetual danger. Also, it had been damaged and could not last.

  Arrahaquen kept to herself, desperate to unravel the significance of deKray’s discoveries inside the Clocktower. Ever more intensely the Clocktower dominated her visions of green devastation and the creaking sounds of vegetable growth. She knew their future was bound up with it.

  CHAPTER 28

  Kray attacked relentlessly. Clodhoddle Cottage, already suffering a disintegrating roof and sinking foundations, seemed to fail like a patient too old to take medicine. Walls sucked up water as if they were made of card, paint and plaster peeled, and creaks resounded through the house; all ominous signs that never ceased. The city had taken the Holists’ home into its green fist.

  Arrahaquen’s composure too began to fail. She looked pale and drawn. Dark rings circled her eyes, her lips were swollen from ulcers, her infected fingernails ached, and the green rash that she had never been able to shrug off now disfigured much of the left side of her face.

  She told Zinina, ‘I seem to sense something happening from within.’

  ‘Within the Holists?’

  ‘Maybe. But I’m so taken up with trying to remember how to escape that I’ve no feel for anything else.
It’s very difficult.’

  Zinina nodded, aware through empathy of the strain Arrahaquen was under. ‘If we can do anything to help,’ she said.

  ‘Escape is so close, yet an eon away,’ Arrahaquen said, dream-like, as if Zinina had wandered off. ‘I just can’t quite remember it. DeKray has done something...?’

  Zinina led Arrahaquen to her room, settled her in a comfortable chair with a goblet of dooch, then left her.

  Another day passed. Torrents of rain began to sweep over Kray from the sea, and daylight hours became dark as evening. Lamps and tubes were never turned off inside Clodhoddle Cottage. The storm struck in waves; shrieking wind, whipping rain, thunder, even showers of hail. Ball lightning shot up and down the remains of city streets. The final clearance had begun.

  ~

  On the second night after the attack of the revellers events happened that shook the Holists to their core.

  Zinina’s first knowledge that something was wrong came when Qmoet woke her during the night. ‘Zin, get up quick,’ she whispered. ‘Leave deKray here. Hurry up.’

  Zinina put on her gown. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Bad. Very bad.’

  They hurried downstairs. ‘What?’ Zinina insisted.

  ‘Reyl and Gishaad-lin have gone.’

  ‘Gone?’ said Zinina, horrified. ‘Dead?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  Eskhatos, Ky and Arrahaquen were standing by the hall green zone. The five robotic carriers – the bird-legged jacqana – lurked nearby. ‘Zinina,’ Eskhatos said, ‘Reyl and Gishaad-lin have departed the house. Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘No, Eskhatos,’ Zinina replied, letting her face show her shock. ‘Where have they gone?’

  Eskhatos glanced at Arrahaquen. Arrahaquen looked exhausted – Zinina knew she suffered terrible insomnia. ‘I can’t be sure,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘It’s too cloudy in me, but I think the boats...’

  Realisation struck Zinina. ‘You mean, they’ve taken to the sea?’

  Eskhatos nodded.

  ‘We’re going down there now,’ said Ky. ‘You in with us?’

  Anger bubbling, Zinina replied, ‘Yes!’

  Ky, Qmoet and Zinina dressed in protectives, checked their weapons, then turned to face the others. Arrahaquen was too tired to come, Eskhatos too old. A feeling of dread stole over Zinina as she realised that, excepting her sleeping man, this might be the last remnants of the Holists: an old woman, an exhausted pythoness, and three tired commoners. Zinina, not given to speculation, suddenly perceived that this really could mark the end of everything. Including her life. Trembling with apprehension, she said, ‘Well... let’s go. Weapons charged?’

  They departed the house. Cod Row was choked with vegetation, which they struggled through, but Mandrake Street, leading to the Sud Bridge under which the Holists’ boats should be bobbing, was under water for almost its entire length. The rain, warm and yellow, poured down. They had to wade along the street’s edge, climbing ruined houses occasionally, torches on full power to ensure they did not get entangled in reeds or tendrils. It was a dreadful, desolate journey.

  They turned off all light upon reaching the bridge. Climbing down to the river, they saw, as they peeked around the nearest brick arch, that no boats remained. Shocked, Zinina just stared. Nothing there.

  ‘Look,’ Ky said. ‘Bootprints.’

  Zinina hurried over to the mud in which Ky stood. Two sets of bootprints showed what had occurred. The pair had divided, taking a boat each.

  Horrified, all Zinina could do was mutter, ‘They’ve split. Reyl and Gishaad-lin have split.’

  ‘The cowards,’ Qmoet added.

  Burdened by loss, they trudged back to Clodhoddle Cottage. ‘Do you think they’re at sea now?’ Zinina asked.

  ‘They must be,’ Qmoet replied, holding her hand.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ~

  Later that day, a meeting took place. Because it concerned Arrahaquen they left her to toss and turn in her own room.

  A mumbling, half-asleep Eskhatos presented her case. ‘We must support Arrahaquen as much as we can. All other escape routes are closed to us. It’s a fragile hope, you know, for Arrahaquen is, well, untested, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘Unreliable,’ Ky supplied.

  ‘Arrahaquen says to us all,’ Eskhatos continued, ‘quite plainly I might add, that she is on the brink of some discovery... I must confess, I’m rather losing hope. I just like to doze, these days.’

  An especially loud creak ran through the house. ‘And the house won’t last,’ Ky said. ‘The rear rooms are crumbling.’

  ‘Yes...’ Eskhatos murmured. To Zinina she looked half dead. It seemed a final symbol of defeat, for Eskhatos had founded the Holists and been its driving force.

  ‘We won’t give up,’ she said.

  ~

  Arrahaquen remained in her room, visited by Zinina and Ky to offer water and food, and comfort. She appeared so deep inside her own thoughts that she was becoming a zombie. Zinina had to push away mental images of her becoming catatonic and dying.

  Zinina talked with deKray in their room. Thunder rumbled and rain battered the roof. Tubes failed, only lightning flashes illuminating them.

  ‘DeKray,’ she said, ‘if it comes to it, and Arrahaquen can’t save us, I want us to die together.’

  ‘Do not speak so morbidly,’ deKray replied. ‘We will live through. Mayhap we will join the temple of the Goddess for a few months after all, and over-winter in their abode.’

  ‘No, this is the end,’ Zinina said. ‘I can feel it. Everything’s dying, everything’s splitting up. So I want us to die together. I couldn’t bear to be without you.’

  ‘I will not hear of it,’ deKray said.

  A loud crack made them jump. ‘Was that thunder or the house?’ Zinina asked him.

  ‘I fear it was–’

  Another crack sounded and they felt the floor of their room shift. Zinina stood, terrified. ‘Pack your stuff,’ she said.

  A third crack sounded, louder than both the others, and Zinina saw the outer wall sag. ‘Run!’ she shouted.

  They ran, waking Qmoet on the way. Eskhatos and Ky were already awake, and they met Arrahaquen on the stairs down.

  ‘Run,’ Arrahaquen cried, ‘the house is falling.’

  Eskhatos was too confused to issue orders, so Ky took over. ‘Zinina,’ she said, ‘get water from the cellar, deKray get food. Qmoet, get tarpaulins then kit replacement stuff. Arrahaquen, get clothes and protectives.’

  The house groaned and shifted as they ran. Into the pelting rain Zinina sped, crates of bottled water in her left hand; then she ran back, dodging slates falling from the roof, ducking as a piece of guttering slid down a wall, clattering down to the cellar then returning with more water. Ky had put Eskhatos into a chair and covered her with an umbrella; Woof she had let loose. As Zinina ran with her fourth lot of water, she saw the jacqana striding on their long legs out of the side door. Over the noise of rain and thunder she heard a rumble, a groaning crackle as of wood giving way, and then the rear of the house fell to the ground, showering rubble and dust across the rear yard. Zinina screamed as it fell.

  ‘Look out!’ somebody cried.

  Zinina turned, unsure who had shouted.

  She flinched when an object swung in front of her.

  And lost consciousness when it hit.

  ~

  Later, the Goddess’ priestesses arrived at the Holists’ camp set up at the lower end of Cod Row. But only two of them. Tashyndy told their tale.

  The storm had splintered the temple and eventually crushed it. Surviving priestesses, acolytes, worshippers – a score, no more – had crawled from the wreckage. Arvendyn had perished. Led by a wounded Taziqi they had floundered south, through terrible swamps, jelly-infested lakes and barbed lianas thrashing in the wind. Most did not survive.

  The group had divided after crossing the river. An acolyte had led all but six north, hoping to reach th
e ancient Galactic Port. Taziqi had succumbed on the way to a bladderblade in the ankle. A second had fallen inside a folding pitcher. The other two had been clawed in thigh and belly by cats.

  Arrahaquen stared at them both. ‘Just you and Maharyny left?’

  Tashyndy nodded. ‘We failed, Arrahaquen.’ Staring at the sky, fists white-knuckled, she continued, ‘We failed because our vision failed. What is the Goddess but a symbol of the Earth? We have been kneeling as supplicants before our own destruction, worshipping green death, death handed out impartially by a force from which consideration of humanity has long since vanished... if it was ever present. And as for the future, that, as should have been clear to us, is green. Green water, green slime, green leaves. Green grass.’

  Both Maharyny and Arrahaquen were weeping.

  ‘Green grass. I am the final Kray Queen. If I am our symbol of fertility, am I destined to be the Goddess’s murdered daughter?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Arrahaquen said, ‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’

  But she almost knew. Through watery eyes she gazed north, to where, behind banks of cloud and rain, the Clocktower lay.

  ~

  DeKray surveyed the scene before him. It was utter desolation. Under a fifteen-foot tarpaulin erected using poles of wood lay Zinina, wrapped in battery-heated blankets, unconscious; Eskhatos sat nearby, exhausted and too bewildered to be of any help. The others sat like him at the edge of the tarpaulin, Arrahaquen gazing out to sea, Qmoet playing dice with Ky, the two priestesses sitting hand-in-hand, heads bowed. The five jacqana circled the tarpaulin as though hunting for seeds to eat. It was so dark they flitted in and out of sight. Woof sat and howled mournfully.

  The rain pelted down from black clouds. Their few remaining goods lay in the jacqana baskets or in crates at the edges of the tarpaulin. Streams pouring down the alley made new rivers and rapids around them. Everything was soaked.

  He wondered if this was the end. They had nothing left: their house and their security, most of the remaining supplies... and their hope. He had lost his love – for he knew Zinina could soon die in the cold. He wondered if he ought to return with her to his old house and there make an end of it.