Whit

by Iain Banks

  'What, like asking our followers for money?'

  'Not just that. He has a vision for the Order, for the Faith. According to him, we have to move ahead into the next century. We have the opportunity to build upon what we have here, to evangelise and expand and learn from other cults; send out more aggressive missions, build up bases overseas, almost like franchises, in Europe, America, the Third World. We could go into the specialist food market and capitalise… on…'

  His voice trailed off as I slowly shook my head.

  'No,' I said, 'I don't think so, Grandfather.'

  He opened his mouth as though he was going to argue, then his head dropped. His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed. 'Well,' he said. And that was all. He shook his head.

  'Have those… the begging letters gone out yet?' I asked, not trying to keep the contempt out of my voice.

  He glanced at me. 'Not yet,' he said, sounding tired. 'We were going to wait and see who turned up for the Festival. Approach them personally, if possible.'

  'Good. I don't think we should do any approaching of that nature, or send the letters. Do you?'

  He hunched over his knees again. 'I suppose it isn't necessary any more.'

  'Good,' I said. 'I'm afraid I won't be taking a fully active part in the Festival of Love, either, not that I need to; Morag and Ricky will be getting married at the Festival. I don't feel ready for that myself, yet. I don't know that I'll ever feel ready for that. We'll see.' I paused, then continued. 'I'm sorry.'

  He seemed not to have heard me, then just shrugged and shook his head.

  'Whatever you want,' he said quietly.

  'Good,' I said, and felt a strange, hard elation course through me. 'So,' I said, putting my hands on my knees. 'Shall we head back?'

  'Yes,' he said, standing when I stood. In the skies above us a lark trilled.

  'We'll go to the library and call Allan to us there,' I said. 'See which way he's going to jump. All right?'

  'All right,' he said, his voice flat.

  'Good.' I started down the path, then became aware that he wasn't following me. I turned and found him looking at me with a strange half-smile on his lips. 'Yes, Grandfather?' I said.

  He nodded as though to himself, and his eyes narrowed. I felt a twinge of fear, thinking that perhaps he was taking this all too calmly and that he was about to break down, to shout and scream or even to try to attack me physically.

  I tensed, ready to run.

  His smile widened and his gaze roved over my face, as though he was only now really seeing me for the first time. With what might have been admiration in his voice, he said, 'Aye.' He nodded again. 'Aye, you're my grandchild, all right, aren't you?'

  We looked into each other's eyes for a moment, then I smiled and held out my arm. He hesitated, then took it and we walked slowly, arm-in-arm, back to the house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - NINE

  'What?' Allan shouted.

  'Confession,' I said calmly. 'Or exile. I want you to stand in front of everyone, this evening, and confess you tricked them and manipulated them, lied about me, lied to me, lied to Morag, lied to our Founder, lied to everybody.'

  'Well… fuck you, little sister!' Allan roared, storming away from where I stood by the windows with Morag, Sophi and Ricky and striding from one end of the library to the other, his splayed hand tearing through his hair. He turned and whirled round by Grandfather's seat; Grandfather was sitting in a chair by the closed door to the hall. Zhobelia was still in the schoolroom, talking to the children. The meeting for the Full Moon Service was still in abeyance; Calli was reading from the Orthography while we had our conclave in the library, next door to the schoolroom. I felt good here, surrounded by the books and their lingering musty smell.

  Allan dropped to his knees in front of our Grandfather and put his hands on the arms of his chair, shaking it. 'Salvador! Founder! Grandfather!' he shouted. 'Don't let her do this! Can't you see what she's up to?'

  Grandfather shook his head and looked away. He muttered something but I didn't catch what it was.

  Allan threw himself back up and came striding towards me, one fist clenched and raised by his shoulder. Ricky, who had apparently accepted that Allan was the bad 'un in all this, growled and stepped forward. Allan stopped a few paces away. He was dressed in grey robes of a similar cut to Grandfather's.

  I looked my brother in the eye, keeping my expression neutral and my voice steady. 'I want you to admit you took the zhlonjiz and put it in my kit-bag, Allan,' I continued. 'And you'll admit you've been using a portable phone here in the heart of the Community to arrange all your lies and deceptions and manipulate people like Morag and Uncle Mo.'

  'Ha!' Allan said, laughing. 'I will, will I? And that's all, is it?'

  'No,' I said. 'I also want you to confess you lied about my attempting to seduce Grandfather and that you tried to influence him and the revisions of the Orthography for your own selfish, political purposes.'

  'You're mad!' he exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch. He looked round all of us, his eyes wide, his face shining with sweat, his chest heaving in and out. He laughed again. 'She's mad!' he told Sophi, Morag and Ricky. He turned back and looked at Salvador, who was gazing at his grandson now. 'She's mad! She's fucking mad, I'm telling you! Do you hear what she's saying? I mean, are you listening to all this?'

  'Do you deny any of it?' Salvador asked coldly.

  'All of it!' Allan yelled, spinning round to glare at me.

  I looked slowly at Morag, who was standing at my side. She was frowning at Allan, her arms folded. Allan looked from Morag's face to mine and then back. He blinked rapidly.

  'Perhaps, Grandfather,' I said, 'you'd like to ask my brother for the key to his desk in the office. It was on the chain round his neck, last time I saw it.'

  'Well, Allan?' Grandfather said.

  Allan turned round to face our Grandfather again. 'Look,' he said, and took a deep breath. He gave a small, nervous laugh. 'Look, all right; I have got the phone. Yes, I mean, big deal. Big fucking deal. I've used it for everybody's good. Everybody's. Plus, it's there for emergencies… And yes, all right, there might have been some crossed lines with the letters from Morag, but Grandad-'

  I found myself striding down the room to him.

  He must have heard me coming; he turned round and my forearms thudded into his chest as I gathered two balls of material from his robes into my fists; my momentum carried him two tottering steps backwards until his shoulders thumped into the library door, just to the side of where Grandfather sat. I glared up into Allan's face; his eyes were wide, his breath rushed out of his open mouth and struck my face.

  I pressed into him, my whole body quivering with rage.

  'Listen, Brother,' I hissed, grasping his robes tighter and shaking him. 'I don't think you've really understood the situation. I know what you've been doing, I know what your plans were and now so does Grandfather. Everything I'm doing now and everything I'm saying now has Grandfather's authority. Everything. Is that right, Grandfather?' I said, without looking at him.

  I watched Allan's eyes tear their gaze away from mine to look imploringly down and to the side.

  Quietly, our Grandfather said, 'Yes, that's right, Isis.'

  Allan's gaze swung back to me. I could see sweat on his top lip now. His eyes looked very big.

  'Is it starting to register now, big brother?' I asked. 'It's every damn thing I say or nothing; there's no negotiations, no talks, no compromises, no deals. You just do exactly as I say, exactly as Grandfather says, or you're out!' I pushed him back against the door, banging his head off the wood. 'Understand?' I shook him again. I think I was trying to lift him off his feet but he was too heavy for me. It was only my anger and his surprise that was letting me pin him here at all.

  He stared into my eyes. He looked pale. His breath smelled of mint. He swallowed. I felt him bring his hands up to mine, trying to free his robes from my grip. 'Hey, Is,' he said, his voice small and shaky. 'Come on; you're taking th
is kind of hard, aren't you? I mean-'

  'You piece of shit!' I said, the rage shining like a white star inside me. 'You tried to destroy my life here; you want to pervert everything this Community's stood for and you've lied to every single one of us, all for your own slimy ends and you think I'm going to take it as a joke?'

  I let go with one hand, but just to pull down on his robes with the other fist so that my free hand could grip the chain with the key on it. I pulled the chain off; he yelped as it parted somewhere behind his head. I stepped back and he stood there, rubbing his neck and glaring at me. Muscles quivered at the hinges of his jaw beneath his ears.

  'Well here's the joke, Allan,' I said, feeling a tingling in my eyes and hearing a high keening noise in my ears. I weighed the key and its chain in my fist. 'Either you confess, in public, now, to everything, or you're out, brother. Forever, with nothing. Because if you don't tell everybody everything, we - Grandfather and I - will. We'll take your phone and we'll have the office searched, your rooms searched, we'll have the whole damn place searched, plus we'll be there at the bank in Stirling first thing tomorrow, just in case you were thinking of making off with any funds, you know? I think all that kind of makes your position… what's the word? Untenable. That's the sort of corporate-speak you understand, isn't it, brother?'

  Allan put shaking hands to his chest and smoothed his robes back down. He looked again at Salvador, who was sitting with his hands on his knees, his head down.

  'Grandfather?' Allan said, and sounded like he might be about to cry. 'What about the new revelations for the Orthography? The ones we were going to reveal-'

  'Down the drain, brother,' I told him. 'Like the rest of your plans.'

  He ignored me. 'Grandfather?' he said again. 'She's gone crazy,' he said with another nervous laugh. 'You aren't going to let-'

  'Oh for God's sake, boy!' Grandfather bellowed, not looking up. Still his voice filled the room. Even I jumped. The effect on Allan was more dramatic; he staggered and shivered as if run through.

  Grandfather looked slowly up and round at my brother. 'Just do,' he said, 'what she says.' He shook his head briefly. 'Don't protract this,' he muttered. He looked down again.

  Allan stared down at our Grandfather, then looked back up to me. His eyes were staring, his face white. His mouth worked for a moment before any noise came out.

  'And what,' he said hoarsely, then stopped to swallow a couple of times. 'And what would you leave me with, if I… if I did agree to… to this ridiculous confession?'

  I breathed deeply, in and out. I looked at Grandfather for a moment. So.

  'You can have most of what you have at the moment, Allan,' I told him. 'Well, most of what we all thought you had. I think a penitential pilgrimage to Luskentyre might be in order, but when you come back you can have control of the day-to-day administration of the farm, as you've had before. Of course, from now on I'd want full access at any time I want it to all the books and accounts. To everything, in fact. Most importantly, I'll want to sign all the cheques and authorise any expenditure.'

  'But that's more than Grandfather does!' Allan protested.

  'I know, Allan,' I said. 'But it's what I want.' I paused. 'While you look after the farm, I shall be taking over the day-to-day running of the Community and the Order; Grandfather's position will not change in that he remains our Founder and our OverSeer. Equally, there will be no need for him to be troubled by all the details you've been looking after until now. I'll supervise that aspect of our affairs. And I think we'll have to make it clear to everybody in the Community that they're accountable to the Founder and to me.' I shrugged. 'And perhaps to a more formal structure, like an elected board or committee. We'll have to think about that. I'll be asking everyone for suggestions. You'll be welcome to contribute, after you return from your pilgrimage.'

  Allan looked almost comical now. He opened and closed his mouth and blinked, trying to take all this in. He gave one last despairing glance down at our Grandfather. 'Grandad?' he said, voice faltering.

  Grandfather continued to look at the floor. 'Whatever Beloved Isis wishes,' he said quietly.

  Allan stared at the older man.

  I turned towards the windows. Ricky looked bored. Morag still had her arms crossed. She was frowning, but gave me a small smile. Sophi looked half terrified but then, when I winked at her, broke into a relieved if nervous smile. I turned back.

  Allan brought his arms up from his sides until they were straight out and level, his face still white, his eyes still huge. His voice seemed to come from somewhere a long way away. 'Whatever you say,' he breathed.

  * * *

  I sat on the small wooden chair on the podium, looking out over a meeting room full of astonished faces. My brother kneeled before me; he put the basin full of warm water to one side, accepted the towel from my Grandfather, and began to dry my feet.

  Allan's face was still wet after weeping during his confession, which Grandfather had announced. His admission of guilt had been brief but comprehensive; I didn't think he'd left anything out. It had been greeted with utter silence and then, when it was over, with a rising tumult of noise that had taken all my Grandfather's authority, and volume, to quieten again.

  Grandfather had asked for silence once more while the ceremony that had been unjustly neglected on my return a few days earlier was belatedly carried out now, then asked Morag to bring forward the bowl of water and the towel. There were a few gasps when she walked forward from the back of the meeting room, soon hushed by a scowl from Grandfather.

  As my brother dried my feet in the stunned silence, fresh tears fell from his eyes, extending his task by a few seconds.

  Soon it was over though, and after Allan had gone to sit in the body of the kirk again and I had risen to stand, bare-footed, at the lectern, my Grandfather called once again for quiet, then left the podium to me and sat in the front row of the pews.

  There were more gasps of astonishment and mutterings at this unprecedented action. I waited for them to pass.

  When they did, I looked out over my people, and smiled. I gripped the smooth, polished wood of the podium and felt the hard surface beneath the papery softness of my skin.

  Suddenly I remembered the way the fox had felt in my hands, when I had lifted it from the field, all those years ago. That tiny, feathery hint of a beat, there as soon as I'd picked it up. I had always been unsure whether it had been my own pulse I'd been feeling, or the animal's, and then - beyond that, if it had indeed been the fox's heartbeat I'd sensed - uncertain whether the animal had simply lain there unconscious until we'd come along (and Allan had poked it with his stick) or whether it really had been dead, and my Gift - working at a distance, without touching, doubly miraculously - had brought it back to life.

  Was my Gift real? Was it genuine? Could I be certain? All these questions - or that one question in those different guises - had come to depend, in my mind, on the precise physical state of that small wild animal, that summer's day with Allan in the stalk-stubbled field, when I had been a child.

  I had never known the answer. For a time I had thought that I might come to know it, but now I could accept that I never would, and in that acceptance found a liberating realisation that it didn't really matter. Here was what mattered; here, looking out over these stunned, bewildered, awed, even fearful faces, here was action at a distance, here was palpable power, here was where belief - self-belief and shared belief - could truly signify.

  Truth, I thought. Truth; there is no higher power. It is the ultimate name we give our Maker.

  I took a deep breath and an abrupt, fleeting dizziness shook me, energising and intoxicating and leaving me feeling strong and calm and able and without fear.

  I cleared my throat.

  'I have a story to tell you,' I said.

  END

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