by Simon Morden
She lowered the lid again. Crows seemed to be fast asleep, but a single black bird perched on the tree above him, staring down at her, its eyes bright with reflected fire. Mary scowled at it and, with a flutter of dark wings, it was gone.
2
The sea stretched out ahead of them. A couple of green-topped islands sat some miles offshore, indistinct with haze, and the distance precluded seeing any further out. However far it actually was, it was going to be a long way.
‘The choice we face is to either go around or go across,’ said Crows, looking down at Dalip from the higher branch of the tree where they’d climbed. ‘But boats are rare on Down, and good sailors rarer. So we may not have a choice at all.’
Dalip, on the branch below, could see nothing of the other side of the bay. He was assured it was there, but it couldn’t be proved. It looked, as with all horizons, like the edge of the world.
‘But if you’ve been to the White City once, you’ve gone this way before,’ he said. ‘What did you find then?’
‘That the sea has its own dangers. The same boat can be used for fishing or piracy, and sometimes they are used for both. Catching fish is little different from catching men.’ Crows stared back out across the stretch of rolling green forest they had yet to navigate. ‘You must consider the merits of walking.’
‘Can’t you magic up a boat?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘That is not how it works. And even if it was, you would not trust one made by me.’
‘There’s always Mary.’
‘You may ask her yourself. She will give you the same answer.’
‘So what did you do? You didn’t walk to the White City, did you?’
‘I swam,’ said Crows. ‘I walked into the sea and changed.’
‘You wouldn’t be able to carry us, or the trunk. Mary couldn’t either.’ Dalip reached up to brace his hand to steady himself against Crows’ branch. He’d wanted to see for himself, but now that he had, it added very little to Crows’ initial report. And the only reason Crows was up there was because Dalip was: he had his flock of black birds to do his seeing for him.
If they couldn’t find a boat large enough for them and the trunk, and someone with the skill and the inclination to take them across, that would be that. They’d have to trudge along the shoreline, dodging inland when they reached estuaries – he, Mama, Luiza and Elena at least – and who knew how long that would take?
Or how much time they had.
‘There’s no sign of any smoke,’ Dalip said.
‘Some do not light daytime fires, for fear of attracting rogues.’
‘It doesn’t make it easy for us to find them, though.’
‘That is the point. We are the rogues they fear.’
Dalip looked up sharply. ‘They’ve no reason—’
‘This is Down, not London. They have every reason to fear us, just as we have every reason to fear them.’
‘If we act decently towards them …’
Crows was limber and lithe. He lowered himself down level with Dalip and looked him in the eye. ‘We might have hundreds of miles and weeks of travel on land, across hills and valleys. Who knows what lies between us and the White City, and what we might encounter. Another Bell, another Stanislav? I wish it was otherwise, but your honour will not shorten the journey by a single step.’
‘Well, what alternatives are there?’
‘We take the first suitable boat we find. It is simpler, and we are many. They will be few.’
Dalip pulled himself closer to Crows. He was aware of his own scent, of freshly dug earth and sharp sweat. Crows always seemed sweeter, somehow: clean and slightly spiced.
‘I don’t know how long it takes to build a boat, but it has to be months, if not the better part of a year. We can’t steal someone’s boat. That’s …’ and he tried and failed to think of a word other than just plain wrong.
‘Our need is great, my friend.’ Crows touched Dalip on the shoulder, barely holding on to the trunk with his other hand. A few weeks ago, Dalip would have felt physically ill just watching the man capering high in a tree, let alone climbing up himself.
Let alone throwing himself off a cliff.
‘I know what we need, but that’s no excuse.’
‘Oh, I know it is no excuse. But it is expedient. What if Mama cannot walk all the way to the White City? We would, at some point, be faced with another choice: whether to leave her and carry on without her, or all stop and make the best of it, wherever we might be. Perhaps she would be agreeable to that, because we are very accidental travelling companions, and there is no reason we have to stay together.’
‘We can’t leave Mama behind.’
‘Then,’ said Crows, ‘we must consider matters plainly. This is all I suggest: if we are fortunate enough to find a boat then a long journey, full of uncertainty, might be avoided.’
His logic was impeccable, up to the point where theft was involved. ‘Crows. We can’t—’
‘If it was put to a vote, which way would it fall? Mama with her sore feet, and Luiza – there is something of the night about her. Quiet Elena might not be swayed, but Mary is no stranger to a little light-fingeredness.’
Dalip glanced down. Though it wasn’t far to the ground, the others were out of earshot. It was just him and Crows.
‘This is a test of character,’ he said. ‘Just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should.’
‘I am not suggesting it for mere devilry.’ Crows pressed his lean fingers against his own chest. ‘Our situation is such that it outweighs the obligations of decency.’
‘That’s very convenient. It’s only a short step from there to putting me in the pit to fight animals.’ Dalip felt his blood start to rise. ‘I won’t start down that road because I know where it ends. Honour actually means something to some of us.’
Crows swung back, and pursed his lips. ‘I will leave you to explain your decision to the others. But consider this, Dalip Singh: your honour did not kill your friend Stanislav. Your cunning did.’
He slipped down the tree trunk, sure with his handholds even where his feet were left dangling. He landed lightly on the leaf litter, his black cloak momentarily rising about him like wings, then he was looking up at Dalip, his high cheeks and broad smile nothing but an invitation to trust.
Dalip looked away, out over the land, over the ocean. There was nothing but the natural landscape. No sails cracking in the wind, no white foam breaking around a wooden hull, no tell-tale finger of grey smoke. He traced the line around the bay as far as he could see. It was, granted, a very long way, and he’d have to walk every single step of it, and then further into the unknown.
Crows was right: Down was dangerous and unpredictable. But it was also wide and glorious and empty, and it was people like Crows that made it difficult. That, and the occasional storms that seemed to demand a sacrifice as they passed by. Was that going to make being here nothing but a series of seemingly reasonable compromises until he became as wicked as Bell or as sly as Crows?
He growled at his own equivocation. He knew what he should – and more importantly, shouldn’t – do, no matter the personal consequences. While the decisions would have to be made by all of them, it was up to him how strongly he objected to the choices made.
There was nothing to stop him from walking away, but then he’d be on his own. He always imagined, living vicariously through books, that he could survive in a situation like this. The reality was, he didn’t know. He guessed he could probably cope, at least for a while, with the vagaries of Down: it was the way Down altered people, mentally and spiritually, not physically, that caused the biggest problems.
And if he thought like that, then other people rescued by Down would too. So again, Crows was right, and he felt grubby acknowledging that. But if there was nothing stopping him from becoming the worst of himself, t
hen there was nothing stopping him from being the best of himself either.
‘Dalip? Are you coming down?’
He blinked, and there was Luiza, orange overalls half-lowered and tied around her waist by the arms, staring up at him.
‘Just a second.’
He took another long look at the coastline. There was nothing; nothing to indicate that they weren’t the first to ever pass that way, even though Crows assured them that the way to the White City was well trod.
That gave him the inkling of an idea, and before he reached the bottom of the tree, it was fully formed.
‘How far?’ Luiza asked him.
‘A couple of hours before we hit the coast. After that, who knows?’ Dalip was already looking about him differently, searching for signs that other feet, naked and shod, had passed their way. ‘Crows says there might be a boat, but that we might have to steal it. He says he can’t make one.’
‘Crows is full of shit, yes?’
‘Yes, but he nearly always tells the truth, even while he’s betraying you.’
They walked back towards the trunk, where Mama was sitting on its flat wooden lid.
‘If there is a boat to steal, well. We can do that. There are six of us, and we have two – whatever you want to call them – with us.’ Luiza pulled at her ponytail. ‘What will that gain us? Can any of us sail? Or do we put a collar on Crows so he can pull us?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve done some sailing. But when I say some, I mean a week in a little dinghy on a reservoir. I could probably not drown us in a light breeze. Anything more than that?’ He shrugged.
‘There is another problem. Would you trust Crows on water?’ she asked.
‘I don’t trust Crows on land.’
‘Here,’ and she stamped her foot against the soft ground, ‘he is a man who can do magic and send birds to look for him. We are barely his equals. Out there, at sea, he is a master and we are nothing. I will not get in a boat with him, or near him.’
‘He wouldn’t risk the maps.’
‘He could pick us out of a boat, one by one. He would eat us before we could throw the trunk over the side. Mama knows this. Even my silly cousin knows this. You know this, too.’ She stepped back and regarded Dalip from his bare brown feet to his covered hair. ‘Only Mary thinks she can tame him.’
‘I can’t do anything about that.’
Luiza sniffed. ‘If she leaves us for him, they will take the maps. There will be nothing we can do to stop them.’
‘She’s not going to leave us.’
‘She will, if he makes her choose.’
‘She won’t.’ Dalip turned away. ‘She’s better than that.’
‘Who’s better than that?’ asked Mama, raising her head from her chest.
‘Mary,’ he said.
‘That child is headstrong and wayward. But she has a good heart.’ Mama stretched her legs out in front of her, and twisted her ankles until the bones clicked. ‘Is it time to move on already?’
‘Dalip says the sea is not far.’
‘Not far? And where’s this White City? Can you see it yet?’
‘It’s further, Mama. Further than I can see.’
She frowned at the news: more than that, because she turned her face away and ran a fingertip firmly down the side of her nose, drying it with a wipe of her thumb before anyone could see the single tear that had leaked out.
This. This was the complicating factor: Mama hated walking. How much simpler to find a boat and try to sail across the wide bay. If they took precautions, if they made sure Crows couldn’t just get rid of the inconvenience of them and seize the maps? Then what? Did that make stealing a boat more palatable?
Mama would say that it wouldn’t, even as she imagined herself being carried over the waves.
‘What else could you see, Dalip?’
‘Just … Down. More Down. There’s a couple of islands out in the bay, but there’s nothing really. We’re quite low here, this close to the sea. Mary will scout ahead and tell us what’s on our route.’
‘No sign of anyone?’
‘No. I want to get the maps out when we reach the coast, see if we can work out where the villages and castles are going to be.’
She nodded, and slowly, wearily, stood up.
‘This is taking too long,’ she said. ‘I should be back, taking care of my babies. We’ve been gone for weeks.’
‘We don’t know,’ he started, but Luiza tossed her head back with a grunt of frustration.
‘London has gone, Mama. The door was destroyed. It does not matter if it was two minutes or two months ago.’
‘I will not believe that. My babies are waiting for me to come back, and don’t you dare say otherwise.’
They squared up to each other, Luiza pale and pinched, Mama flushed and folded-arms angry. Dalip pressed his hand to his forehead. He’d never been a peacemaker; normally he hid when family members turned, always temporarily, on each other.
‘It’s academic anyway,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what’s happening in London, and we don’t know how fast time is moving here, relative to home.’
‘What are you saying?’ Mama was suddenly reminded of his presence.
He chose his words carefully. ‘When we get back,’ he said, avoiding the word ‘if’, ‘it might be that five minutes has passed, and no one will know we’ve been gone.’ He stared at Luiza, daring her to undo his good work.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, pursing her lips.
Mama snorted. ‘You wishing it won’t make it so.’ But she bent down to pick up her boots and stalked off into the trees.
‘She is lying to herself,’ said Luiza, ‘and you are encouraging her.’
‘What else am I supposed to say? That her babies are dead, and long burned to piles of unrecognisable ash?’
‘It is not kind to pretend there is hope,’ she hissed.
He took a deep breath. ‘I’m not pretending. Sometimes I think you’re right, that London has gone, and everyone in it. Sometimes I think she’s right. But we’re not going to know until we can check for ourselves. Until then, speculation is useless, and it only causes trouble. I … It’s even more complicated than that. I don’t think we have to worry about how long we spend here.’
‘Because?’
‘Down is a time machine.’
Luiza’s face froze.
‘Should I explain?’
She nodded.
‘If we can get the portals to open from this side, and assuming it still exists, we can go back to London, yes?’
She nodded again.
‘What if we didn’t go back to twenty twelve? What if we used the door that Bell found? We’d be in nineteen sixty-whatever. Or the one that Crows used, from the thirties? If we can find – or make – a door that’s last week, last month, last year, however long it takes, then it doesn’t matter how long we’re here. We could go back before we’d even left.’
Luiza worked her jaw, slowly becoming more animated.
‘And you think this would work?’
‘I have no idea. But there’s no reason why not. If the portals let people from different times come here to the same time, then they might let us back to whenever we want.’
‘Into the past? That is crazy. That is dangerous,’ said Luiza. ‘What if we make a mistake? Do you know what might happen?’ She grabbed hold of his overalls at the shoulders and shook him. ‘What if this has already happened? What if this is why we are here?’
‘Yes: yes, of course.’ He tried to free himself, but she maintained her strong grip. ‘We could also go into the future.’
‘This is what the geomancers lust for,’ she said. She let go, pressing her hands against him and pushing him gently away. ‘Control. Not just of Down, but of London too.’
‘All of the
Londons.’ Dalip blinked. ‘We’re going to have to think very carefully about this.’
The sky flickered. A great bird-shape blinked over the clearing. Both of them glanced up, and when they looked back at each other, the tension had broken and was dribbling away.
‘Hungry?’ she asked. She put a hand in the outsized pockets of her overalls and proffered several glossy brown hazelnuts.
Dalip took one, and then two when urged. Each was as big as his thumb up to the first joint, big enough to bite in half and show the white flesh inside. He wasn’t hungry as such, because Down seemed to yield just enough, just when it was required.
Then he pressed his hand to his forehead again. ‘How could I have missed that?’
‘What?’
He chewed and swallowed, and still had to chase pieces of hazelnut around his mouth with his tongue.
‘Down. It never fails to surprise.’
3
Mary flew in over the beach, over the heads of the others, checking one last time that they were alone and nothing was going to sneak up on them. There was no sign of anyone, just their own filling footprints in the soft white sands of the dunes.
She turned back, feathered her wings, and touched down just below the still-wet strand line. The seagulls, scarce and scared, wheeled around to mob her – but she changed and left them without a target, just a young woman in a red dress, toes flexing and digging into the cold, gritty sand beneath her. She walked up the beach, stopping to collect a long length of driftwood in each hand to add to the already-smouldering fire.
‘Does anyone know what a coffee plant looks like?’ She cast the wood across the burning pile, and sat down with a thump. ‘I suddenly miss it.’
‘I thought … ?’ said Dalip, sitting cross-legged to her left. He stopped, and inspected the soles of his feet.
‘I just fancied a cup, okay?’ She knew what she’d said, that night in the dark of Bell’s broken castle, how she didn’t want drink or cigarettes any more. And she didn’t, but her habits had a tendency to creep up on her when she wasn’t looking and mug her with need. ‘Anyone?’