the Dark shall do what Light cannot

by Sanem Ozdural

  “Where to Professor?” the driver asked. Shady gave the address and withdrew into a pensive silence until they had reached their destination: the home of Carl Volkswahr on the tree-lined Avenue of the Oaks along the water.

  Shady strode through the unlocked front door of the wood-framed, two-story house. Carl never locked his door; the police had not even needed to break in. He paid no attention to the familiar sights of the living room with its high vaulted ceiling, noticing only that the glass French doors leading to the porch were open. They might have shut the doors, he thought automatically, for Carl was – no, had been a stickler for that sort of thing. No matter now, thought Shady sadly, stepping through the open doors.

  Before him lay Carl’s favorite view. Here he would sit, in his special armchair – there would be more chairs for guests, of course, but when he wanted to be alone, this porch overlooking the changing waters of the Ortasu was Carl’s sanctuary. The flooring was cypress, naturally. And in its natural color. Carl did not like to tint the wood of the cypress tree. It is beautiful and, more importantly, it is Pera’s heart, he said. Cypress: it is Pera’s immortal heart. How could anyone bear to stain Pera’s heart?

  And Carl the stargazer would sit in his armchair of an evening, or gaze through his telescope…

  “Good evening, Professor!” A voice drew Shady sharply out of his reverie.

  “Yes?” he snapped irritably, looking around for the source of the interruption. A young policeman cleared his throat deferentially. “Here, sir.”

  Shady took a step towards the small group to the right of the French doors. They were huddled over a recumbent form. Shady approached hesitantly. Carl’s body was laid out on a sheet. His face looked peaceful, as though asleep. There were no obvious wounds that Shady could see.

  “How did he die?”

  “Sir, we don’t know for sure,” a young police officer replied. “There aren’t any marks that we can see. We will have to wait for the autopsy results–” He paused.

  “Yes?” Shady urged.

  “I would say, just from looking, but I could be wrong–” The officer cleared his throat nervously.

  “Yes?” Shady repeated in an interrogative tone. “What do you think it was?” He knew the answer, though. Could read it in the officer’s eyes. Could see it in the face of his friend. Immortals don’t die of natural causes. They are killed. What kills an immortal? Almost anything that will kill a mortal. Poison. A poison that kills from within. A poison that paralyzes. Such a poison might leave the victim superficially untouched.

  The lightberry, Shady thought. “The lightberry, we think,” said the police officer.

  Rapid footsteps heralded the approach of a newcomer.

  “Hello, Fiona,” Shady said, without looking up.

  “Oh, Shady! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Fiona stood irresolutely in the open doorway leading to the porch. She bit her lower lip. The second light bird had been sent to the mayor’s office ten minutes after the first one.

  “No,” Shady said.

  The cypress flooring creaked as she stepped across the threshold. “What are you…?” she began and hesitated. She was dressed in a generous, billowing cape of deep green, and her coppery hair hung in loose curls about her shoulders. A nervous smile played about her thin lips. “I’m so sorry to hear about Carl,” she cried suddenly, rushing towards Shady with open arms. She grasped his left hand in both of hers, looking up at him with an expression of deep concern and sadness.

  You should cut your hair, Fiona, Shady thought critically, noticing that she had disengaged one solicitous hand to remove rebellious coppery strands out of her face.

  “Oh Carl!” she cried anew after noticing the prone form of their late friend. Her hands flew to her face and she swayed a little.

  Shady gave her a perfunctory pat on the shoulder.

  “The police are taking evidence. Don’t disturb anything,” Shady warned as she moved towards the body on the wooden flooring.

  Fiona gave him an injured look. “Not now, Henry,” she said, her voice low and tremulous. “Please, not now…”

  Shady watched her as she leaned over Carl’s body. “I wouldn’t touch anything, Fiona,” he cautioned again, stepping closer. One of the policemen rose from his examination of the body and advised her to step away.

  “Don’t touch the body. Please, Madam.” A young police officer cleared his throat apologetically. She was, after all, the mayor’s right hand woman, and an immortal.

  “Of course not!” Fiona declared hotly. “I don’t want to be in the way. It’s just– it’s just that it’s Carl!” She turned to Shady imploringly. “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Shady confessed and shook his head slowly. “There are no marks on him. We’ll have a better idea after the autopsy, I hope. Why don’t you go home?” he suggested, “There’s nothing for you to do here. And it’s obviously upsetting for you.”

  Fiona said nothing as she walked to the armchair and stopped before the telescope. At once Shady was at her side. “You really must not touch anything, Fiona,” he said, gently but firmly arresting her hand on its way to the telescope. Why do you want to change its position? he wondered. For a split second he had felt her need to adjust. It’s hard to control action emotions, Shady knew. Thoughts were one thing, and even emotions that one felt: fear, anger, happiness… such things could be blocked, dampened, changed even for misdirection, but then there were those emotions that simply accompanied actions… these were almost impossible to mask – at least by the average person. Orion now… he might be able to do it, but that was Orion, this was Fiona. True, she had become quite good at blocking. Although she could not sense, Fiona was smart enough to know – after the way Orion had treated her, she would have had to be an utter dimwit to persist in her ignorance, Shady recollected – that others around her could.

  “Come, my dear, let’s keep out of the officers’ way,” Shady said, steering her away from the armchair and towards the iron balustrade surrounding the porch. He leaned sideways, resting his right elbow on an iron protrusion in the form of a wide leaf. That was Carl, all over, Shady thought, with a pang of sadness. Every part of his home was human. It had been designed for human use and comfort. Just like this leaf upon which a visitor could rest while lighting his cigarette… Shady smiled to himself as he struck a match and inhaled deeply, blowing out the smoke slowly towards Fiona.

  She coughed, waving away tendrils of grey smoke. “You shouldn’t smoke, Shady,” she snapped.

  Shady ignored her. “Lodos is coming…”

  “What?” She looked disconcerted. “What Lodos?”

  “Don’t you feel it in the air? The wind. Lodos. The wild wind of the Marble Sea…”

  “Not really,” Fiona replied, pursing her lips. “I know people talk about it all the time. But what am I supposed to feel? It’s just a wind, isn’t it?” She shrugged dismissively. “There’s barely a breeze.”

  “It’s the time before,” Shady mused, looking out over the flickering water. “I always get a terrible headache–”, he tapped his left temple, “right here, for several hours before Lodos.”

  “Oh. I see…” Fiona coughed gently. “That could probably be helped if you didn’t smoke…”

  “Possibly, my dear,” Shady replied mildly. I will not be drawn into this, he thought, steadfastly concentrating on the opposite shore and the throbbing inside his head.

  “But Henry, you’re setting a bad example!” she exploded. It was her habit to use his given name when she was emotional. “Think of all those people who look up to you. To us! We have to be mindful of how we behave.”

  Shady remained stoically silent. Fiona gathered her hair in a large bunch on top of her head. “Well, if I were you, I’d quit smoking. I mean there are children, Henry, who might be influenced by you! Don’t you have any sense of responsibility?”

  It was a familiar refrain. Shady continued to smoke. What did it mean, anyway? The children? “I’m sur
e their parents can tell them about the evils of smoking,” he said gently. “People do know about things that may be harmful, you know, even without hearing about it from you. Even without rules,” he added, looking at her directly.

  Fiona fiddled with a button on her cape. “I have been promoting a no-smoking policy at the mayor’s office,” she said in a faraway voice.

  “Ah.” Of course, it’s just the sort of thing I’d expect you to promote, he thought. “How’s it going then?”

  Fiona brushed a stray strand out of her eye. “It’s difficult without proper legislation,” she said earnestly. “Obviously, you can’t expect people to give up something so addictive without laws!”

  Shady smiled to himself. “Incidentally, I saw one of the White Islanders outside The Flying Fish,” he continued.

  “Who?” Fiona asked nonplussed.

  “A White Islander. You know them. It was just a kid. He was hanging out morosely on Nightingale. I told him to go back to his island. Then there was a bit of a – well a situation, when one of the local kids threw a stone–” Shady waved dismissively.

  Fiona cleared her throat. “Stone? What are you talking about?”

  “Probably nothing. Just some kids playing, I think.” Shady was studying her carefully. It was easy. Too easy with Fiona. He noted the hint of condescension in her voice when she spoke. “Well, he lives in Pera too. Why shouldn’t he be on Nightingale like anyone else?”

  “Why indeed?” Shady replied mildly. He sighed: “Why don’t you go home? It’s upsetting you, and there’s nothing you can do after all… nothing anyone can do now,” he added quietly to himself.

  “I will… What about you? Are you going to stay?”

  “No. I’m still on patrol, remember? I will leave in a few minutes. I just want to say goodbye to Carl. He and I were supposed to be on patrol tonight…”

  “I am so very sorry,” Fiona whispered earnestly, shaking her head slowly. “I wish – oh I wish there was something I could do, something that could change what happened! Did he tell you anything? I mean, did you have any inkling – you and he were good friends…”

  Shady regarded the evidence of grief before him dispassionately and with a modicum of disbelief: the teary eyes, the trembling chin… What do you want? He wondered. I know you want to know something. I feel it. Under your mask of mourning, there is something else, isn’t there, Fiona? “I have no idea,” he said firmly.

  “But surely – I mean, when did you see him last?” she ventured hesitantly.

  “As I said, I have no idea,” Shady countered. “As far as I knew, Carl was perfectly content and he did not mention any problems, any enemies… no.” He gazed out at the dark horizon. “I have no idea why he was killed,” he said softly to himself. “Why?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm Carl either! He was wonderful. Everyone loved him…” She sighed. “Why do you think he was killed? Maybe it was … an accident?”

  Shady shook his head severely.

  “Well, I suppose I should go home,” Fiona said after a long pause. She glanced towards Carl’s body still laid out on the opposite end of the porch. “I feel absolutely awful about this. I mean what could have happened? How could he have died?”

  “Poison,” Shady replied evenly. “What else could it be? Possibly the lightberry.”

  She shuddered visibly at his words. “Don’t!”

  Are you squeamish now, Fiona? What else could it be? An immortal does not die a natural death, and there are no marks on his body.

  We have all forsaken the possibility of a natural death, to die in our sleep. Those were Xavier’s words at that meeting six months after the tournament. How true.

  “We have all forsaken a natural death...” Shady said softly.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Fiona demanded.

  “Xavier. Don’t you remember?” Of course you do. I know you were thinking it, but you won’t admit it. How foolish you still are in some ways…

  Fiona shook her head firmly. “No. I don’t remember anything like that. I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is an absolute tragedy! Our friend is dead in Pera. What has Xavier got to do with anything? He’s not here. He almost never comes,” she added.

  “Well, he has other things to do. He has to run LiGa,” Shady pointed out. “Come on, go home. Were you at the office when the light bird came?”

  She nodded. “Yes. What about you?”

  “I was patrolling,” Shady said.

  “But you got... how did you know?”

  “Oh, you mean how did I find out about Carl,” Shady nodded with understanding.

  “Yes.” Fiona cleared her throat.

  “Well, obviously, when Carl didn’t show up for blinder’s duty, I went straight to the Rooster and asked him to send some men to check on Carl, and to let me know if they found anything wrong. Unfortunately,” Shady sighed, “I was right.”

  “So the Rooster sent you a light bird?”

  “No. He was playing sleet,” Shady replied pedantically. “He could not have sent the light bird.”

  “You know what I mean!” Fiona stamped her foot. “One of these police officers then?”

  “I should imagine so, yes,” Shady replied. “I guess they sent two light birds: one to you and one to me. Carl is the third death this year, my dear. I should be careful. There might be someone out there with a grudge against immortals.”

  Fiona licked her lips. “Three this year…”

  “Carl, Dragan, Philippa… Perhaps it’s time to alert Xavier.”

  “Nonsense!” Fiona shook her head irritably. “Dragan’s death was an accident. He should have been more careful. Probably out drinking on that little sailboat of his.”

  “Possibly…” Shady said, unconvinced. “But it was rather strange, don’t you think? After all, he was a damn good sailor. He practically grew up on boats. And they found him washed up on the shore of Mira Island. Shady gestured towards the water. “You can practically see the island from here, for God’s sake!” He shook his head disbelievingly, for Mira island – a popular resort destination for Pera’s residents – was a short distance from the mainland in the middle of the straits of Pera, also known as Ortasu. “I thought it was odd, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t have expected Dragan to drown while sailing on a clear night, practically a stone’s throw from where we’re standing.”

  “Well, you’re entitled to your opinion,” Fiona said obstinately. “And you think Philippa’s death was caused by anything other than her own absentmindedness? That woman couldn’t even remember where she put her keys!”

  “And so she ate a helping of lightberries by mistake?” Shady looked incredulous. “It’s possible, I suppose. Possible that she forgot how poisonous the lightberry is for those who are not from Pera?”

  “I expect so,” Fiona said, sniffing.

  “And Carl?”

  “I wish I knew,” Fiona cried plaintively, spreading her hands.

  Shady turned to face the sea once more. “Perhaps it’s time then…Time we contacted Orion… He might be more useful in this situation than Xavier,” he added meditatively.

  “Orion!” Fiona exclaimed sharply.

  That’s right: Orion…

  “Believe me, I don’t like to have anything to do with Orion either unless it’s absolutely necessary!” Shady said sincerely. Orion (Imm.), had taken the name of the celestial Hunter. Above, the constellation shone in the winter sky. The brightest, the clearest was the Hunter.

  “I think we should discuss this further, Henry,” Fiona said soothingly, stepping towards him. “Perhaps tomorrow, after we’ve had a chance to process this…” she shook her head sadly, “tragedy, we’ll be able to approach it with a clearer head. I know how hard it must be for you…” She laid a hand on his arm and gazed up at him with tears in her eyes. “Why bring Orion into it? This is just a regular matter for the police. Besides, Orion is needed for LiGa.”

  Orion... A name. That’s all. Just
a name. A name like Henry or Fiona, or Carl… Just a name. Fiona looked away.

  “Perhaps you’re right…” Of course you don’t want Orion here, Shady thought. Or perhaps you do, he considered, watching her closely. Still, Fiona? After all this time? After all he has done? To you. And yet he felt no pity for her. Perhaps it’s the LiGa effect, he thought. You know better, Fiona. You certainly should know better. Orion is not for you…

  Ah, Orion was useful. There were times when no one else would do.

  “I – we both need to rest tonight.” He put his arm around her, guiding her indoors.

  They walked together through the familiar living room. Carl had thoroughly embraced Pera’s aesthetic. Nevertheless, to Shady, while it was decidedly Pera, it was Pera as seen through Carl’s clean vision, which had detested extraneous ornamentation. The entire space was a study in sinuous tendrils, but this was not art for art’s sake. This was art with function. Every polished curve supported a leg, a beam, even a window. Every black iron tendril insinuated itself into a space and made it more usable: an incidental cup holder, for instance, by a windowsill, and the windowsill that undulated at different levels to make it easy for people of different heights to lean against the window.

  They passed through the large, high-ceilinged room silently and, without pause, stepped out into the cold night air.

  Fiona smiled sadly. “Oh all right, Shady,” she sighed. “Everything seems to be under control here. By the way, will you be all right? I know this isn’t in your patrol area.”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  They parted at the entrance gate, with every appearance of concern on either side.

  Shady returned to the house and leaned against the curling balustrade of the porch overlooking the dark, lively waters of the Ortasu. The wind had started to pick up already: that shifting wind from the southwest known as Lodos. It was the whiplash wind that would keep the ships in the harbor.