Authors: Gwyneth Jones
Ax shook his head, smiling. ‘Elder Sister, she already is the Neurobomb, it doesn’t make any odds if she goes on being a rockstar or not. She’s a refusenik, pacifist, selfless Neurobomb. She’s proved it many times over.’
Everything between them had been lies, and she felt bereft, even now. ‘She is schizophrenic!’
The tiger and the wolf, without looking at each other, nodded. ‘There’s no way around that,’ drawled Sage, ‘considerin’ everything. It don’t mean she’s insane. She’s the sanest person I know. She’s got the deficits, but she’s making it work, the brain’s wonderful like that. There’s nothing wrong with her, usually, except she sees more of the real world than most of us could stand.’
Fiorinda must die! thought Xifeng, genuinely horrified. But she must go willingly to the slaughter, or who would dare to strike the blow? The pit that had opened underfoot resolved itself into this impossible dilemma. They were ahead of her, of course. They knew what was going through her mind. They feared nothing, hoped for nothing. She knew where they were. They were in the zone beyond fear, beyond firefight readiness; a place with no name.
‘I really think I might be asleep and dreaming. I saw the phenomenon in the interrogation room. Now Sage asks us to believe that this was the effect of a psychic cyanide pill. Or perhaps an “innocent” yogi trick, he cannot make up his mind—’
‘I’m going for the yogi trick,’ said Sage. ‘Kind of like transient psychosis, only different. It’s a sign of the times.’
‘You are
shameless
… You want me to believe Fiorinda is a schizophrenic magical adept, like her father before her. Yet the Reich is unconcerned. You have been
living contentedly
with the pernicious delusion! My darkest fears are realised, and this is your admirable fall-back position. You have lied to me and lied to me, for all these months. Now you have been forced into the open and your fatalism is understandable, you knew it might come to this. Allow me a little time to catch up.’
They allowed her a little time.
‘You could let our friends go,’ suggested Ax. ‘And the children, and Sage’s son. You could file Fiorinda’s confession in the same closed box as a lot of other things, why not? You know she has committed no crime.’
‘I shall direct the penalty process to continue! Then we shall see! We shall see if this monster exists, and how monstrous she is!’
Silence.
‘Let’s get this in proportion.’ Sage took Fiorinda’s saltbox out of his pocket and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘She’s a refusenik, but she’s handy to have round in an emergency. Think about it. D’you want her for a friend, or an enemy? What she plans to do now isn’t new bad news, she’s changed the world before: it happened on the beach at Drumbeg. It’s more
difficult
than the things her dad used to do in his long career, but the end result will be much less damage. There are risks, mostly for Fiorinda, but she won’t falter, she won’t fall, and I’ll be right there holding her hand. So it’s going to be fine, except you should not make us do this.’
Silence.
Ax and Sage listened to the winter wind, which they imagined but they could not hear, sighing around the old Leisure Centre. On a night like this, thrown out of the world we knew, we met our girl’s demons for the first time, and here we are again, as if we never left. Surrounded by our ghosts, acknowledging the darkness.
Elder Sister was deep in thought.
The door opened and Fiorinda came in, looking weary and very pale.
‘Hallo?’
‘Hey, my brat.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, to Elder Sister, ‘sorry I shouted,
jiejie
. It wasn’t necessary.’ She looked at the two men. ‘I fucked up, didn’t I? I’m really sorry.’
‘When was that?’ wondered Ax, holding out his arms. ‘When you saved Chez’s life? Or when you turned yourself in, in the hope of stopping a few torture sessions, Protector of the Poor?’
She settled on his lap, her cheek against his shoulder, either not quite aware of Elder Sister’s presence or past caring. Sage got up from his chair and went to sit at Ax’s feet. He took Fiorinda’s hand and laid his head down, his arm across her knees, his eyes closed. Elder Sister and her Chosen One looked at each other across the low-lit room in strange accord, strange intimacy. Everything was in the open now.
Fatality, the will of heaven. No regrets.
Next night Elder Sister gave a private dinner, hardly a banquet, for the Triumvirate; in her quarters. The other guests were Wang and Hu. The dining room was hung with deep-red and orange silks, panelled in the dark-red
di
and lit in glowing amber. It was like a cave at the heart’s core of the world. The food was vegetarian (for Hu Qinfu’s sake; he was a strict Buddhist), good, plain, wintery soldiers’ food: a Hokkien clay-pot stew of bean curd and root vegetables, aubergine in a very flavoursome hot sauce, braised English-grown oyster mushrooms with peppers; ‘fake eel’ nuggets, which sounded bizarre but proved delicious. Of course the rice was excellent.
They were an auspicious party. Six represents the whole Universe, with its four cardinal points plus Above and Below. The conversation was in
putonghua:
Elder Sister and her Generals going easy on the non-linguists. They talked about number, exchanging superstitions. About beauty spots, in England and in the region of China called Shaanxi; about cricket. Hu Qinfu didn’t really unbend but Wang had recovered his charm, and the three musicians were on a plane where pretty much nothing could touch them. Why not eat, why not chat?
At the end of the meal Elder Sister set down her wine glass.
‘My friends,’ she said, ‘there was a northern general, Zhao Kuangyin, who unified China, and founded the great Song Dynasty taking the dynastic name Taizu. There is a story that Song Taizu held a dinner, when the consolidation of his power was complete, for the military commanders who had put him on the throne. Do you know this one, Ax?’
Ax looked at her. ‘Yeah… I think I do.’
‘He put it to them that though he honoured them and wanted to reward them, he knew they were kingmakers. If they were at court he would always be looking over his shoulder, and they couldn’t expect him to trust them. He suggested they all retire peacefully to the countryside, and enjoy their success in freedom.’
‘What did the commanders say?’ asked Sage.
‘It’s not recorded that they said anything. They enjoyed their dinner in a normal fashion. The next morning they offered their resignations on various pretexts, and left the capital without delay.’
‘I can see how that would work,’ said Fiorinda. ‘What was the sweetener?’
‘The secret action against the Few has run its course. Ms Dawkins shows no sign of ever having suffered from pulmonary tuberculosis, and such medical records as we can trace tell the same story. It has been found impossible to make a case for a suspicious cure on absolutely nothing but one covert scan. Chip Desmond has been examined by our neurologists, and his brain discovered to be perfectly normal. There are rumours that he was supernaturally protected from undeserved punishment. It’s not my business to confirm or deny that, but I don’t consider such things impossible, and certainly not pernicious.’
She paused, as if waiting for a balance to settle.
‘Those two, and all those caught up in the sweep, were released today; with apology. It has been revealed, for the public record, that the alarm was caused by a tip-off that Countercultural terrorists had infiltrated the Snake Eyes Commune. This has been proved false. The Few have made statements to the media, expressing their appreciation of the action and affirming the need for vigilance. There is no call for embarrassment over the arrests, General Hu gave the right orders. If he was over-zealous, he’s not the only one. Wang Xili would do well to practise restraint, especially in his sexual affairs; and look before he leaps.’
Wang took the public slap with a rueful nod, accepting his deserts.
‘Now we move on to the Presidency of England, and of Europe. I have come to a decision. When the 2
nd
AMID army has withdrawn, and England becomes a Sphere partner, a process that will soon be completed, Rob Nelson will be President. The formal titles held by Felice Hall, Dora Devine, and possibly Cherry Dawkins shall be decided according to the will of the masses. The Presidency of Europe will be nominal. We’ll see how that goes, later on.’
She looked across the round table at the Triumvirate, with her phoenix eyes.
‘My friends, you are kingmakers: I would always be looking over my shoulder. I honour you, I would reward you if I could, but I have divined that the best gift I can give to you is peace, freedom, and a quiet life, away from
all this
—’
They waited.
‘You must leave England. You must leave Europe and never return, neither physically or in bi-location, or by any future miraculous tech. You will be celebrated as my heroes, and my counsellors. The World State will know that you are under my protection. I will know that it’s the other way round. Are you satisfied?’
Let me remember how it felt when we received Elder Sister’s judgment, in the red-gold room. We had told her that we wanted her to rule the world, then fate had forced us to show her that we could destroy her. There’s no one like Elder Sister. Her response was to offer us a way out that conceded nothing; and yet we saw at once that it was the best solution for everyone, including ourselves. The pain would come later, and the shock, and the gallows humour. Let me remember the moment when it was like music, the difficult resolution unlooked for, falling into place as if it had always been there.
We said yes.
Antares
Here is the kitchen table where we played
Risk
in the lamplight. Here are the stone flags that were cold to my bare feet, that perfect night when we’d come here as true lovers for the first time. Down the little step and here is Sage’s big low bed, where we have made love together; how many times? Here is the old sofa where I sat, the night they went down on their knees and proposed. Here are the deep windows, where night looks in… Look, Coz, this is the dead media wall, which holds an unparalleled collection of rock and roll, and some other music; once belonging to the great Joss Pender. Joss can have it back now, I suppose.
What do you take, when you’re told you must leave your home forever? Very little, in the end. Cos tugged on a hank of curls, pulling Fiorinda’s head down until they were nose to nose. ‘What now, my girl?’ Baby kisses, round blue eyes brimming with concern. ‘I love you too,’ said Fiorinda.
‘A’tz?’ suggested Cosoleth hopefully. The answer to everything.
‘Good idea. Hey, how about
mummy
?’
‘Meh
, meh.
’
‘I’m going to decide that sounds promising.’
If we had stayed everything would have changed. New chairs, new curtains. A new rug instead of the one where Ax and Sage sat doing jigsaws, the weekend that Sage first brought us here, one early spring. Fresh paint on these faded holy walls. Everything precious to me about Tyller Pystri is in the past, why mourn for a place I will never know? But the stones, the walls, the daft things Aoxomoxoa used to buy, helplessly, in airports, were all crying to her
please don’t leave us
—
Out in the garden she found Sage with his arms stretched around the trunk of one of the twin beeches. He changed his pose swiftly when he heard her step, and stood with his back against the tree’s grey hide, wiping his eyes.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’
She put Cosoleth into his arms. The day was mild, the air sweet. They went to sit on the bank under the camellia hedge, and listened to the faint clamour of the Chy; in spate down in the gorge. We must leave, and never see this again: the solid shape of the little old house, the battered back porch, the ledge outside the kitchen window where the birds and the red mice come for scraps. The mossy hillock on the shrubbery edge of the lawn, with the odd little stone bench on the top, that looks like something out of Narnia.
‘I’m glad we made it through to the primroses.’
‘Yeah.’
Ax had been upstairs, sitting in the room that would have been Coz’s room. He came to join them, Min following at his heels. Coz took a trundle around and settled confidingly against her father: talking softly to her fingers, and a family of grass blades. ‘I’m fucking glad we didn’t end up hitting this situation with the United States of America in charge,’ remarked Sage. ‘We’d’a spent thirty years on Death Row, making generations of lawyers rich, an’ still got the perpetual banishment.’
‘Things to be said for eastern despotism.’
They sat and watched the southern horizon, where the red beacon of Antares, rival of Mars, would rise when it was summer again in England. They would not be here to see it, but they would have kept the promise Sage made, in the winter depths of defeat. The Occupation would be over, England would be free.
At the nadir of their fortunes they had set out to achieve something that seemed impossible. They’d done what they’d vowed to do, they were free and clear, things could have been a hell of a lot worse. Can’t have everything.
And the river tells our story, and the stones will remember.
The Three Guineas
The massive
di
walls had vanished, faster than they’d built themselves. The purple barracks that looked like upturned boats were gone. The final departure of the 2
nd
AMID was still weeks away, but as of tonight Reading Arena belonged to the Reich again. Scaffolders had raised a towered stage where Main Stage, Red Stage, had always stood. Big screens were in place, the live broadcast was running and a lucky crowd of thousands stood waiting on the cleared ground; on a cold evening of early spring. The day had been raw and wet, but the sky had cleared. The west was streaked with sunset light, lemon and pearl between bars of slatey cloud.
Elder Sister stood with Ax on the side of the stage, watching the sound and light team as they wandered, completing their arcane tasks. She wore her dark padded coat and a close cap; her hands tucked into her sleeves for warmth. No mask, but he felt the Daoist Nun was near.