Questors

by Joan Lennon

  ‘I sent them down,’ she said simply.

  ‘The men know the risks. They wouldn’t go if they didn’t trust you, if they didn’t believe the work was worth it.’

  Gravely, Ivory tilted her head and inclined it slightly – and Cam was once again overwhelmed by her gracefulness and her unerring ability to find the right gesture, the right phrase. Without saying a word, she had told the Foreman how deeply she appreciated their faith in her; reassured him that it was well founded; made him, even more unshakeably, her man. Even though it knew down to its bones that Ivory was wrong, the drilling was wrong, their confidence in her was wrong, still Cam couldn’t help but admire, and wonder to itself, How does she know how to do it?

  Will I ever be able to, half so well?

  46

  The Research Department

  ‘So they’ve put you in the Research Department,’ Mrs Macmahonney said. ‘How very stupid of them.’

  Kate groaned. ‘I know! Everybody knows it’s field work I’m good at –’

  But Mrs Mac shook her head. ‘No, I mean, how very stupid of them to let you loose in the one place they shouldn’t!’

  In the Basement of the London House, the reluctant researcher gave a tiny inadvertent yip.

  ‘Find something?’ Her Supervisor came over quickly, but the new recruit’s screen was blank.

  ‘No, sorry,’ she said. ‘It was nothing. Cramp.’ And she rubbed at her calf apologetically.

  ‘You’re not used to sitting still so long,’ the Supervisor explained kindly. ‘Tell you what – why don’t you pop out to the kitchen and see what’s happened to our morning coffee? Tell Mrs Macmahonney the troops are gasping. Give your legs a stretch at the same time.’

  ‘Thanks – I will!’

  He didn’t notice her palming the disk at all.

  ‘HA!!’

  Kate sashayed up to the kitchen table and, with a flourish, laid a small disk down in front of Mrs Macmahonney. Mrs Mac looked from it to her flushed face and back down again.

  ‘When you say, “HA”,’ she said, ‘can I take it that you mean…?’

  Kate nodded, grinning like a grinny thing.

  As Mrs Mac carefully inserted the disk into the toaster, Kate hung over her shoulder and told her all about it.

  ‘Of course he was too smart to leave any kind of record of where he’d been in the body,’ she said. ‘And of course he’d hidden his computer files, though I found some, but then they were so locked up they were worse than nothing. BUT – he wasn’t smart enough to remember the way the backwash lights up the path echoes of mind-travel –’

  The toaster popped. Mrs Mac took the lid off the slightly cracked butter dish sitting beside it, lifted out and uncurled a roll of read-out.

  ‘So we still don’t know what he’s been up to, but, by all that’s short and furry, we know where! He’s been poking his horrible nose into Dalrodia’s business, here and here…’

  ‘Ratching around in some poor soul’s mind…’

  ‘Not just any poor soul – look at this!’

  Kate looked.

  ‘He’s gone for the Holder?! But surely she’d notice!’

  ‘Not if she were asleep at the time,’ said Mrs Mac, leaning back and fixing Kate with a grim eye. ‘He’s been directing her dreams.’

  Kate whistled.

  ‘But… then… they’re not safe where she is! Who knows what he might tell her to do to them?!’ Kate was starting to get breathless. ‘They’ve got to leave – now!’

  ‘We’ve got to get word to them some way that no one else will notice,’ said Mrs Mac, tapping the table speculatively with one finger.

  ‘Lord Bullvador –’ began Kate, but Mrs Mac shook her head at once.

  ‘Cordell’d find out,’ she said. ‘No, we need to be beneath his notice… like in the Basement.’

  ‘Research?!’ Then Kate’s voice changed. ‘Research…’

  ‘It’s my guess you won’t be the only one ferreting,’ said Mrs Mac. ‘Cam’s bound to be doing some research of its own. We’ll slip in a message anywhere we think it might look.’

  ‘I’ll get on to that, then. But what if it doesn’t use a computer?’

  ‘Then we fall back on the One Great Truth.’

  Kate looked puzzled. ‘I don’t remember that… what is the One Great Truth?’

  Mrs Mac looked gnomic and tapped her nose.

  ‘Everybody has to eat,’ she said.

  47

  The Nature of Dreams

  ‘It’s really, really nice here, Cam,’ said Madlen.

  Bryn had been declared fit to be up and the three were gathered in Cam’s elegant suite of rooms.

  It didn’t answer.

  ‘I really like the way you live,’ Madlen persisted. ‘It’s cultured, you know? And gentle and witty and… pretty!’

  ‘And it smells nice,’ added Bryn helpfully. When Madlen turned on him, he raised his good hand in defence. ‘What?! It does smell nice. It smells lousy on my World… when it’s not actually frozen, of course. Obviously, ice doesn’t smell –’

  ‘Ivory’s gone mad,’ grated Cam suddenly.

  There was a shocked silence, then, ‘She’s –’ began Madlen.

  ‘You –’ began Bryn.

  But Cam just shook its head and told them about the drilling, its sense of wrongness, everything.

  ‘Only a crazy person would do that to the World,’ it finished.

  The others exchanged appalled looks.

  ‘But, well, maybe,’ Bryn tried, ‘when we’ve found the last Quest thing, and taken it back to the Council and they’ve done… whatever, then it’ll be OK again. Yeah? She won’t be crazy any more and your World’ll be all fixed, and…’

  ‘It’s too late.’

  ‘What do you mean? The land’s too messed up by the sun – gone past the point of no return sort of thing?’

  Cam shook its head.

  ‘It’s not the land. It’s us. We’re what’s gone past the point of no return.’

  ‘You don’t know that!’ exclaimed Madlen. ‘Look, couldn’t you get hold of a bit of dream apple and eat it and, you know, dream up the answer to it all? Or at least where we’re supposed to be looking for the Quest Object? It’d be a huge help.’

  ‘No. I’m not old enough. It doesn’t work on emergents. And besides, there’s no reason to think I’d know how to interpret it if I could. Takes training.’

  ‘And you can’t ask Ivory to help because she’s…’

  ‘… mad. That’s right.’

  ‘OΚ, you’re really going to have to help us here,’ said Bryn. ‘Explain the whole dream thing, slowly, OK? And then we’ll be in a better position to judge what’s what.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Madlen. ‘I mean, I know what a dream is – you know, the way the brain sort of fires randomly when you’re asleep, that sort of thing. What I don’t see is how you can run a World on the basis of them.’

  Cam took a deep breath. ‘OΚ, I’ll try,’ it said. ‘This is how it works. Dreams are visions. We interpret them, to tell us how to order our actions and understand what’s going on. Holders are the Inner World’s official dreamers and we have access to the Corym.’

  Blank faces confronted it. Cam tried again.

  ‘See, in order to dream with really proper significance, the dreamer must first eat the Corym fruit. It’s a tree that’s absolutely unique to this World, and it’s also uniquely tuned to Dalrodian DNA. Well, Holder DNA. Long ago there were lots of Corym trees all over the World and anybody could eat and dream. But some people were just better at it than other people, and then it sort of started to run in families, I guess, and then, gradually, they got to be called Holders…’

  It trailed off and looked at the others anxiously.

  ‘So…’ said Madlen slowly, ‘the way it’s ended up is, you get to make the rules if you dream, and you only get to dream if you’re a ruler… is that it?’

  Cam looked depressed.

  Bryn said quickly, ‘It�
��s no different anywhere else, Madlen, is it – let’s stick to the point here. Why do you think Ivory’s crazy, or having crazy dreams, or whatever it is you think?’

  ‘Look, I’ll show you.’ Cam went to the monitor on the desk. ‘I’ve been doing some research… Ivory said her dreams told her to drill down to the waterbed. I’ve checked and that’s exactly what they do! They show our people doing just that, no doubt about it. There’s absolutely no other way you could possibly interpret those dreams.’

  ‘And… that’s bad,’ said Bryn tentatively.

  Cam groaned in frustration. ‘YES, IT’S BAD! It’s wrong. It’s not a real dream. Here, look at this.’ It turned to the computer and called up a file. ‘As far as I can see, this is Ivory’s last sane dream. She had it not long before I left…’

  The others gathered round, unsure what to expect. What they got was like a movie. Ivory was doing the voice-over, describing in words what the computer had re-created on the screen. The three watched and listened.

  ‘This is what I dreamed, as truly as I can say…

  ‘I was standing on a hill, looking down on a place where people were making a city. Time was speeded up, so that I could see walls and buildings rising and falling, built and decayed and knocked down for new houses and public places and temples and schools, so fast it was like watching ripples blown across sand. The people moved too fast to even see, except as blurs in the streets and alleys. And then trees shot up, all over the city, of every sort, and I was so caught up in watching them that I didn’t see the city walls melt away for the last time. But then I realized that the city was over and only crumbling ruins remained. The trees lasted a little longer, but then they died and dried in the wind. The wind petrified them, so that they became like jagged teeth in a skull when life is long gone.’

  Her voice was desolate.

  ‘And that, I thought, was the end of the dream. So I had started to turn away, feeling so tired, so sad, when movement caught my eye once more.’ They could hear her voice brighten. ‘It was the trees. I’m almost sure I saw them… walking! It was only a glimpse, because the dream really was over, but I believe I did see them walk!’

  Cam pressed the ‘Pause’ button and turned to the others.

  ‘That’s a proper dream,’ it said. ‘It’s not OBVIOUS! I mean, it’s obvious it’s the Forgotten City she’s seeing – that’s an ancient place out in the desert – there’s no mistaking that. But there’s nothing saying, “GO DO THIS!” It has to be thought about and lived with and understood. And you need to be wise and experienced to do it. Oh, cripes, do you understand a word I’ve been saying?!’

  Cam was reaching out its hand to slam shut the file when all of a sudden a message box popped up.

  ‘Eh?!’

  The message was short and clear. It said, ‘LEAVE NOW!’

  It’s getting worse, thought Ivory groggily. I never used to sleep in the day so much.

  The Corym was running low again. First free day I’ll get the plane out, she thought. I’ll take Cam – and the other two – they should see the Well…

  She didn’t even remember taking the apple this time, but when she lifted the box on her desk it certainly felt lighter than before. She sighed and pulled her computer over into position, ready to get her dream filed – when her bleariness vanished and it flooded back into her brain. In horrible unavoidable clarity, it came back to her what she had to do.

  ‘Oh, Cam!’ she whispered into the emptiness. ‘Little Lizard – I’m so sorry!’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue about that,’ Cam was saying, ‘but we have to go. We’re not going to find anything here. I mean, you know how you both knew you had the right thing because it felt right?’

  They nodded.

  ‘Well, nothing feels right here.’

  The other two sighed, thinking of the soft beds, the lovely rooms, the food… but they didn’t disagree.

  ‘Got any idea where it is?’ asked Madlen.

  ‘Not really. But I know where we’re going to start looking.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘We’re going to the Forgotten City – maybe we’ll even find the footprints of the trees Ivory dreamed about.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know!’ said Cam, exasperated. ‘Maybe we’ll go and look for the Woman of the Mountain. They say she knows everything, so she should know enough to help us.’

  ‘What Woman of the Mountain is that?’ asked Madlen.

  Cam flicked a hand. ‘No, forget it, she’s just a story I remember. From when I was little.’

  There was a plate of curvy biscuits left on the table. Without paying much attention, Bryn snagged a handful and stuffed one in his mouth.

  ‘Stories can be –’ he started to say, when he suddenly spat it out again. ‘Yuck – there’s… paper in this biscuit!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Of course there is. They’re fortune cookies… Bryn?… Bryn!’

  Bryn held out the slightly chewed bit of paper. Cam took it and read the message aloud.

  ‘LEAVE NOW!’

  Madlen was busy opening the rest of the cookies. The message was the same in each.

  ‘Wow,’ she murmured. ‘That settles it, I guess!’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Bryn. ‘Even Fortune Cookies Anonymous wants us out. Unless you think –’

  ‘Somebody’s trying to kill us again!’ quavered Madlen, pushing the bits of paper away from her.

  But Cam just grinned. It held up the plate and showed her what was printed on the bottom: PROPERTY OF THE LONDON HOUSE – RETURN TO KITCHEN.

  ‘Mrs Mac!’ the three chorused – then jumped guiltily when a loud knock came at the door. Frantically, they stuffed the plate and messages under the bed as Cam called out, ‘Come in?’

  The door opened.

  It was Ivory.

  48

  Tagged

  ‘Sit down, children.’

  They did so, looking around the unfamiliar, unpleasant room.

  The palace was surrounded by a sprawling service sector known as the Area. Ivory had led them into a part that even Cam had never visited before, and now she stood and looked at the three with an odd expression on her face.

  ‘I’ve brought you here because I’m going to have you tagged.’

  Madlen and Bryn were no wiser, but Cam gasped as if someone had just landed a kick in its gut.

  Taking a breath, Ivory ploughed on.

  ‘It’s for your own good –’

  Cam stood up so fast its chair fell over.

  ‘Good?! What does shaming your own child have to do with its good?! Or, that’s right I forgot, I’m not your child, am I…’ It stopped, choking on the words. ‘This isn’t good. It’s evil.’

  The others had never seen it in such a state.

  ‘Um…’ said Bryn tentatively. ‘Tagging…?’

  Ivory seemed unable to speak. Cam, its hot eyes never leaving her face, answered them.

  ‘You wouldn’t understand. You probably won’t even have heard of what they do here, because it isn’t something we like Other-Worlders to know.’ It paused, took a breath and continued. ‘You might think, looking around, that all is well in Dalrodia. What a perfect World. Everybody knows their place. Everybody’s happy where they are. So of course there is no crime. Happy, sane people don’t commit crimes, do they, so anybody who does must be in sane. And insane people need to be watched. All the time.’

  ‘That’s right, young Holder. Watching and checking, that’s how it works.’

  The Tag Master’s entrance had taken them by surprise. He moved very quietly for such a large man. He had obviously been heavily muscled in his younger days, but the muscle had gone to fat now. His Dalrodian clothes strained across his paunch, the features of his face had become blurred by fat and his mouth was wet and red.

  ‘I’d heard we had visitors… Other-Worlders…’ He took a small step towards Madlen and then seemed to remember himself.

  ‘Lady.’ He turned and bowed, bel
atedly, to Ivory. ‘It is an honour. How may I serve you?’

  Ivory’s nostrils twitched slightly, but otherwise she showed no reaction.

  ‘You are right, Master. These two are visitors. Guests. Please explain our system to them.’

  A look crossed the man’s fat face, just for an instant, and it suddenly seemed to Bryn that there was a frightening intelligence behind those piggy eyes.

  ‘Well, well. An honour.’

  And the Tag Master showed them how Dalrodia controlled its people. He called down the big screen, with the little moving lights scattered across it.

  ‘We like to know where our Tagged are, young Sir and Madam. Always. Especially in recent times, recent difficult times.’

  ‘But… there are so many!’ Madlen murmured, turning to Cam, but it was obvious that it too had had no idea.

  Then he showed them the cuff-like wrist tags, with the integral needle on the inner side.

  ‘I slide that,’ he said, ‘ever so gently, into a vein and I have access to everything I need. Adrenalin levels, mainly. The Tag Master’s friend –’ and he leered at them. ‘It goes up and I think, is the individual in question having a lovely healthy jog in the fresh air, or is he – or, as it might be, she – doing something… inappropriate? So I send in the Checkers. Just to be on the safe side. It’s all for their own good, oh yes, no doubt about that. We wouldn’t do it otherwise, would we now?’

  Ivory’s face paled at the echo of her words coming from his lips, but she managed to control her voice when she spoke.

  ‘Thank you, Master. And now I would like you to tag them.’

  The man’s eyes lit up strangely and his teeth showed.

  ‘Not a social visit, then,’ he murmured. ‘Well, well. And I have this right – you wish me to tag the young Holder here? The Other-Worlders too?’

  Ivory inclined her head and looked sick.

  ‘My, my… at once, Lady.’

  He made quite a show of swabbing their skin with antiseptic, and then injecting a little anaesthetic, before inserting the needle. And in fact it didn’t hurt, much. The wrist tag itself was surprisingly heavy, though, and hard to ignore. And Cam’s registered too high an adrenalin level almost at once, causing an alarm to go off and two burly Checkers to storm into the room on the double. Cam quickly dropped its sleeve over the tag, blushing furiously.