Authors: Cheryl S. Ntumy
* * *
Rakwena doesn’t call the next day, but he does send a brief SMS to let me know the council is still deliberating. I’m not working today, so I decide to pop down the road to Syringa during break to tell my friends the good news about Rakwena’s call. They’re almost as excited as I am. Lebz hugs me for a full minute, until we start to attract suspicious glances.
“Is he coming back to visit?” asks Kelly. There’s a note of tension in her voice. She knows her ex is Rakwena’s cousin, and I’m sure the last thing she wants is a reminder of their brief dalliance.
“I don’t know.” I push Lebz away. “He’s got a lot of family stuff going on.”
Kelly smiles weakly. “Oh, OK. I’m going to the library – I need to return my books. Wiki, you want me to return yours, too?”
Wiki opens his bag and pulls out a book. “Thanks, sweetie.” They exchange sappy smiles before Kelly leaves.
I clear my throat. Lebz titters.
Wiki rolls his eyes. “Focus, ladies.” He reaches into his bag and retrieves the File.
“Good!” I rub my hands together. “Tell me you found something.”
Wiki smiles. “I found something.” He opens the File. “What I’ve got is mostly fragments translated from oral traditions, folk tales, stories carved into caves and so on. It was hard to make sense of them individually, but once you put them together you get a thread. Let me show you what I mean.” He clears his throat and starts to read.
“‘He was a great magician, known across many worlds for his powers, but in time he also fell. He was gripped by the sickness, and spent the remainder of his days seeking the Ultima. He went from one corner of this world to the other, and decided she could not exist in his time, and must be in another. But time and space would not open to him, and he was lost.’” Wiki looks up from the File to see if the story strikes a chord with me.
It does. These words feel familiar. They don’t
sound
familiar – I’ve never heard this story before – but something about the story evokes recognition in me, as though it speaks of something I once knew but forgot. If I believed in reincarnation I’d say I knew this story in another life. It’s the same feeling I got when I had the strange dreams. I haven’t told my friends about it yet. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane. I frown a little and nod for Wiki to continue.
“This is the second story. ‘The wise woman saw in her vision the face of the Ultima, and the vision was so great that she was struck blind, and for seven nights afterwards she saw nothing. For she who sees the Ultima sees the face of the Other, who dwells in secret places and wields the power of the pure ones, which knows no equal in this world – ‘”
“What does this have to do with the Definitive?” I cut in, unnerved by the funny pull in the pit of my stomach. I don’t like this sensation. I don’t know what it means.
Wiki pushes his glasses up. “I’m getting there. Listen to the next one. ‘Many highly respected supernatural experts are obsessed with finding the Ultima. I doubt she even exists. The stories are figurative – the Ultima either represents the unity of the gifted or individual mastery over one’s own gifts, depending on your interpretation. She’s a myth, nothing more.’ And the last one: ‘She is called the Ultima because she combines all powers and through her other powers are increased tenfold. She is the first and last, the only, the Definitive Gifted Soul.’” Wiki stops here and looks at me. “I couldn’t find any reference to the Definitive, but in more than one passage I read the Ultima is also called the Definitive Gifted Soul. That might be what Emily was talking about.”
I don’t know what to say. I feel strange, my head buzzing like a TV without a signal. The pull in my stomach has intensified, and now it’s closer to pain, like hunger pangs.
“So you’re saying the Puppetmaster thinks Connie’s the Ultima?” asks Lebz. “That makes no sense.”
“I know, but there must be an explanation.” Wiki closes the File. “The Puppetmaster’s not an idiot.”
I swallow and rub my stomach, but the ache doesn’t fade. I look at my friends. “We must be missing something.”
“Something like what?” Wiki puts the File down on the bench beside him. “It fits. He thinks you’re the personification of the Ultima, or in some way connected to it. That’s why you’re so important to him. Maybe he thinks he can use you to reach the Ultima. Remember what the last entry said – the Ultima has the power to bring gifts together. Maybe that’s what he wants – to possess all the gifts in the world.”
“But he’s already started collecting gifts,” says Lebz. “From the people he kidnapped. If he can do that on his own, he doesn’t need the Ultima.”
Wiki frowns. “Good point. But his powers have limits. The powers of the Ultima don’t.”
“Assuming she – it – exists.”
“Right.”
My head is spinning. I can’t make sense of any of this. I know I walk a thin line, living in a world where things people would rather not believe in turn out to be very real. But now we’re talking about mythology, abstract ideas, folklore. The Ultima doesn’t sound like a person. She – it – sounds like a force of nature. Or even just a concept. How am I supposed to go chasing a concept across time and space to find out what the Puppetmaster is after? I feel like I’ve stuck my head into one of those trick mirrors that distort everything, and I can’t get back out.
“You have to ask him,” says Wiki. “When you meet tomorrow.”
“He might not tell me.” My voice sounds shaky. That’s not good – I don’t want my friends to think I’m losing the plot. “You know what he’s like – he only tells me what he wants me to know.”
I turn to face Wiki, desperation contracting and expanding in my chest. Suddenly I’m all blood and panic and fear. I don’t know what I’m so afraid of. There is no Ultima. It’s rubbish, like alchemy and zombies, the product of overactive imaginations. “The Puppetmaster can’t really think I’m connected to this Ultima. It’s a myth – people went crazy looking for it, right? We’re definitely missing something.”
Silence. Wiki and Lebz exchange quick, sneaky glances, trying not to think too loudly for fear of freaking me out. They don’t think we’re missing a thing. They think we’re onto the truth.
“We
could
be missing something,” Wiki acquiesces finally.
“Maybe this isn’t what Emily meant by the Definitive,” adds Lebz. “Maybe she meant to say you’re the definitive…young telepath of this era. You know? The most talented one the Puppetmaster could find.”
I don’t believe her for a second, but her words have the intended effect. My panic subsides slightly. “See, that’s more plausible. Because if anyone would personify the Ultima, it would be the Puppetmaster. He’s the most powerful gifted I know.”
Lebz and Wiki nod obediently, eager to reassure me.
“I’ll keep looking,” Wiki offers. “There must be more information out there.”
“And your grandfather probably knows more.” Lebz smile is so maternal I almost expect her to pat my head and give me warm milk.
“Have any of you seen Thuli lately?” I ask, desperate to change the topic.
“No, thank God.” Lebz grimaces. “I can’t believe he has gifts now!”
“Gift,” I correct her. “Only one as far as I can tell.”
“As far as you can tell.” Wiki raises his eyebrows. “Remember how many abilities Amantle and co. had? Super-speed, super-strength, super lack of conscience?”
Lebz shudders. “Ugh, remember all that running around and fighting in the bush?”
I grin. “Good times.”
She shoots me a disapproving look, then the three of us lapse into awkward silence. I know they want to revisit the subject of the Ultima, but there’s only so much weird a girl can take at one time. Reality can accommodate telepaths and sorcerers, but not forces that combine gifts and increase them tenfold. Tenfold! No. If a force like this existed, I’d know about it. Someone would have found and manipulated it by now.
My gift is trying to tell me something. I sense the tendril of awareness pushing up from beneath the surface. It’s like a word on the tip of my tongue – just out of reach. I’d rather it stayed there. I feel a creeping certainty that everything that has happened so far is connected in a way I don’t yet understand. The world is changing. I’m changing, too. I can feel it, and it scares the hell out of me. I’m not ready to meet that strange something inside me that gives me funny dreams and makes my gift stronger. I’m not ready for Connie Who Knows.
Too late,
says a small voice inside me. It echoes throughout my body. I jump to my feet, terrified.
“Connie?” Lebz gets up. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go.”
I bolt across the campus and out into the street, and don’t stop until I reach the gate of my house. I unlock the front door, slam it shut behind me and lean against it, catching my breath. I listen for the voice. Apart from the sound of my own heavy breaths, the house is silent. But she’s there. I can sense her inside me, calm and patient. Waiting. Whoever Connie Who Knows is, she’s not buried any more.
A tap left running at home. That’s the explanation I give my friends for my abrupt exit, but they’re not buying it. They think I’m upset about the Ultima. They’re right. The idea of something so powerful is deeply disturbing, but it’s Connie Who Knows who really frightens me. I feel as though I’m trapped in one of those nightmares you can’t wake up from. As crazy as it sounds, I have to come to grips with the fact that there’s someone else inside me, telling me things.
When I think back I realise this has been slowly unfolding since the day I made the bargain with the Puppetmaster. It started with the first dream about the quartzite rock, then the dream where the green-eyed girl told me the gifted were dying. My growth spurt followed, and I assumed it was the same as what was happening to the other gifted, but clearly it’s not. The voice of Connie Who Knows and the sudden illness I experienced are proof enough. Like Ntatemogolo said, something has changed in me.
I don’t want to believe that the Puppetmaster could have done this to me without my knowledge, but I don’t know how else to explain it. Maybe he’s found a way around the anklet and is planting all this Connie Who Knows stuff in my head. Maybe I’m losing my mind the way Rakwena’s mother did, seeing and hearing things that aren’t there. I have to heed my grandfather’s warning. I can’t trust the Puppetmaster, no matter what.
When Friday morning comes I’m resolute. I’m not going to the meeting. I’m going to stay at work and use what little free time I have to try to make sense of what’s going on. But as the minutes tick by I’m plagued by thoughts of all the things the Puppetmaster could do to twist my arm, and all the people he could hurt. He hasn’t made contact since sending Emily and his silence is more menacing than threats. Finally I can’t take it any more. I tried, but I can’t let him hurt someone to prove a point.
I slip away from work, citing a doctor’s appointment, and arrive at his unfinished house almost twenty minutes late. The gate opens automatically and I step inside. It’s eerily quiet without the Puppetmaster’s voice in my head, and there’s no sign of Emily, either. I’m still a bit shaken. No, that’s a lie. I’m terrified. I’ve been uneasy and worried for weeks now, but today the fear is a gaping hole in my stomach. I take a few deep breaths and head up to the room where the photographs were the last time I was here. He’s waiting for me. He knew I’d come.
Conyza. Welcome.
I don’t return the greeting. My gaze flickers to the photos on the wall, but I have no real interest in them. Thoughts are buzzing fiercely in my head, dying to be let out. I don’t know where to begin. Should I let on that I know he’s done something to me? Should I keep my mouth shut and wait to see if he gives himself away?
You’re angry with me
,
he muses.
I’m shaking as I reply.
I only get angry with people from whom I expect a certain standard of behaviour. I never know what to expect from you.
He nods, his head bobbing on that long neck.
Yet you’re angry all the same.
I exhale, hoping it’ll ease some of my tension. It doesn’t. My thoughts are tremulous; I hope he doesn’t notice.
I don’t understand what you’re doing. Why take those gifted? You have so much power – I can’t believe you need more gifts.
I don’t.
Then why?
He clasps his hands together.
That’s not why you’re here.
I’m not doing your stupid little tour until you give me some answers.
All will be revealed eventually. Emily tells me you were unhappy with her visit.
What did you expect?
He looks at me. I stare past those dull eyes into the vibrant mind beyond. He allows me no more than a glimpse, but there’s more in that head than I can ever hope to unravel. It’s a city of countless towering skyscrapers and tangled streets – immense and frightening.
I expect you to realise that it is in your own interest to improve your gift.
He has made no secret of his desire to see me develop my gift. Is it possible he found a way to speed up the process? Is that why I’m feeling so strange? Is that why I got sick?
You can’t bully me into becoming what you want me to be, John.
I’m not bullying you. I’m challenging you.
You’re pushing me! That’s what you always do. You pushed Amantle until she ended up in hospital. You pushed Emily until she succumbed to you. You pushed Rakwena into overdosing on his serum until he almost died! We’re not toys, John, we’re people!
His eyes flash angrily.
I don’t enjoy being lectured. You presume to know what goes on in my mind? You are talented, my dear, but make no mistake – you know nothing.
Because you never tell me anything!
I have no time to argue. I must continue my story.
I don’t care about your story! I want to know
– The sentence stalls in my head. I can think, but I can’t communicate with him. It’s like having something blocking my windpipe – except in my head. I meet his gaze. What has he done?