Entangled (19 page)

‘Which means,’ David interrupted from the back seat, ‘when we add your testimony to what John already has on file it starts to look like there’s something very strange going on here. If enough different people experience the same supposedly non-real things then you begin to wonder whether what they’re experiencing might be real after all …’

‘And is it?’ asked Leoni. ‘Is it real?’

‘We have to be cautious about this,’ said Bannerman. ‘It’s difficult to verify what people say has happened to them – in what might effectively be other dimensions of reality – in ways that would be accepted by scientists who don’t believe in other dimensions. All the volunteers in my project have reported out-of-body experiences of other worlds, but I narrow down the field by only using those who’ve also had veridical experiences in this world while they were out of body.’

‘“Veridical”? What’s that?’

‘It means truthful and real – in other words people who’ve had experiences that can be verified. If I can confirm even one level of this
phenomenon then it helps to increase confidence that the other levels could be real as well. You had one of these experiences – an experience while you were out of body that I’ve been able to verify …’

For a moment Leoni wasn’t sure what he was talking about and must have looked puzzled. Bannerman jogged her memory: ‘Remember you told me you were out of your body inside the hospital – just before we revived you in the ER?’

‘Yes …’

‘You saw a receptionist. You said she seemed very prim and proper but that she was wearing orange sneakers with striped purple and green laces?’

‘Exactly! Above her desk all you could see was this stiff charcoal business suit. Made her look like a headmistress or something. But under the desk she had on this crazy footwear.’

‘Which was definitely orange sneakers with purple and green laces?’

‘For sure. I was looking right at those shoes when you zapped me back into my body.’

‘Well, here’s the thing. That receptionist exists. She told me she was on duty the afternoon you were admitted and she was wearing a pair of sneakers exactly like the ones you described – right down to the purple and green striped laces.’

Leoni objected: ‘The scientists you want to convince aren’t going to accept that as evidence of anything, are they? They’ll just say I must have seen her when I was being brought into the hospital.’

‘Well, obviously I’ve checked. Turns out you were brought directly into the ER from the helipad on the roof of the Med Centre – straight down in an express elevator. You didn’t go anywhere near the reception area. So there’s no way you could have seen that receptionist’s shoes while you were in your body …’

‘Unless I’d been to the Med Centre before and seen her then …’

‘Obviously I’ve checked that, too’ – Bannerman was looking vexed. ‘
Have
you been to the Med Centre before, by the way?’

‘No. Never.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t matter if you had because this receptionist was new there. The day you were admitted was her first day on the job and the sneakers weren’t even hers. She’d had to borrow them from a colleague who goes running because she broke a heel on her own shoes that morning.’

‘It’s a cut-and-dried case,’ David chipped in from the back. ‘You saw something real that you couldn’t possibly have seen if your consciousness was confined to your body.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Leoni. ‘Some of the places I saw, and some of the things I heard … It’s going to be pretty scary in lots of ways if it’s all real.’

‘But you agree it’s worth trying to find out?’ Bannerman asked.

Leoni bit her lower lip and thought about everything that had happened. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Let’s find out. I’m going to help you every way I can.’

‘Father also spoke of you,’ Brindle said. ‘Told me you been chosen to fight Sulpa. That why you in valley yesterday to save me from Grigo, Duma and Vik. Not accident.’

Ria frowned at more of Brindle’s mystical talk. ‘What do you mean, I’ve been chosen to fight Sulpa? Who chose me?’

‘There is good and evil in spirit world. Good interested in proper order of things. Balance. Harmony. Love. Life. Sulpa part of evil. Interested in confusion, chaos, hate, death. Our Lady of the Forest kept him chained up long time. Stopped his wickedness. But he got away, turned proper order upside down, took human body, came into our world. Now good spirits need you to fight him.’

‘But that’s ridiculous. If he’s a demon they should fight him themselves.’

‘In spirit world they can fight him. In our world they cannot. Not allowed for them to take human bodies. That why they need you. Me as well. Uglies and Clan must make strong rope together to fight Sulpa.’

‘A rope? You’re talking about friendship between the Uglies and the Clan? Not a chance, Brindle. Our leaders would shit mammoths at the idea.’

‘OK. Let them shit mammoths. Doesn’t change anything. We the ones who have to fight Sulpa. Our responsibility. Our job. This our time.’

‘We will lose against Sulpa,’ Ria said, ‘if you go on trying to be merciful to the – what did you call them? The Illimani? The way you handled the ambush yesterday was really stupid.’

‘We trying to do right thing, Ria.’

‘I understand. And it’s noble. But it cost lives. Remember what your father told you. These Illimani do the bidding of a demon. The only right thing is to kill them.’

Last night the large expanse of flattened earth in front of the Cave of Visions had been lit with a score of lurid fires, and the wild uncouth looks of the Uglies had been terrifying. But now as those very same
Uglies began to emerge from the cave in ones and twos, blinking at the sun, yawning, stretching, in several cases farting, Ria discovered that she shared a strong bond with them.

Indeed, in her head, faint as a whisper, she imagined she could now hear the thought-talk of the whole multitude.

‘Not imagining, Ria,’ Brindle interrupted. ‘When you ate the Little Teachers with us last night they made rope between you and all the Uglies …’

Ria was shaking her head from side to side, scratching her ears. ‘You mean everyone can speak to me now, not just you?’

‘Sure. Why not? Every Ugly is your friend.’ He stood up, rested his hand on her shoulder: ‘Soon time for you to go back to Clan. Before go, Merinabob-grundle-nupro-atrinkam has present for you.’ He stood and walked off, beckoning her to follow.

‘Who
has a present for me?’

‘Merinabob-grundle-nupro-atrinkam. Our Sorcerer.’

‘You mean you’re taking me to see a magic man?’

‘Not man. Woman. Very old. Very powerful. She going to help us fight Sulpa.’

Ria had long ago checked out the Clan’s magic men and discovered they were all total fakes. ‘Powerful?’ she demanded. ‘How? In what ways? Give me examples.’

‘Can turn herself into wolf, find lost things, talk to animals, heal sick, make storms, fly like bird.’

‘Oh come off it, Brindle!’ Ria scoffed. ‘You don’t really
believe
that crap do you?’

‘You mean same way you believed Clan crap about the Little Teachers turning people into demons?’

Ria hesitated: ‘OK, you were right about that, I admit.’

‘Right about this, too. You will see. Sorcerer’s magic real.’

The slope behind the Cave of Visions was rocky and precipitous, rising up to an immense wall of sheer cliffs. But in front, where Ria had fled in terror the night before, the ground fell away in a series of wide terraces; birch and oak grew in scattered stands and numberless huge boulders lay about in tumbled disarray amongst tussocks of coarse grass. Below the last terrace the stony banks of a clear alpine stream marked out the bottom of the valley which rose steeply beyond into mixed forests of alder, willow and pine. Higher up these were succeeded
by patches of open moorland and, in the distance, a daunting vista of jagged snow-clad peaks.

‘I can see why Clan scouts never found this valley,’ said Ria. ‘Cliffs that can’t be climbed on one side, mountains that can’t be crossed on the other. It’s the perfect hideout when you know the secret way in.’

A narrow but well-trodden path connected each terrace to the one below it. As Brindle led the way down, Ria saw that clusters of lean-tos made of branches roofed with skins nestled under almost every tree and up against the fallen rocks, and Uglies of all ages were going about their daily chores. With the morning sun warm on her back she realised this could be any camp, anywhere, a Clan camp just as much as an Ugly camp, united by multiple common bonds of humanity – females cooking, curing hides, and weaving grasses, males setting out on the hunt, knapping flints, building shelters, groups of children playing games.

The lowest and widest of the terraces, not far above the stream, was overgrown with a thick coppice of ancient oaks. Here there were no dwellings and small herds of red deer grazed amongst occasional clearings. It was amazing to Ria, who knew the skittish temperament of this species, that they did not run away when she and Brindle approached; one powerful buck even allowed her to stroke him and fondle his ears.

She laughed in delight: ‘I don’t get this, Brindle. What’s the matter with these animals? Why aren’t they afraid of us?’

‘Sorcerer has magicked them.’

‘But how is that possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Told you. Sorcerer very powerful.’

In the heart of the coppice, just where it seemed to be at its most tangled and overgrown, they came to a little dome-shaped tent made of skins stretched over a framework of curved branches. It stood in a circle of shelter beneath the outstretched boughs of three gigantic oaks. Beyond lay a broad open meadow where many different kinds of herbs, fruit bushes and brightly hued flowers had taken root in ordered and regular rows. Waist deep in all this abundance, with a cloud of butterflies fluttering around her, a very small, very old Ugly female dressed in a loose smock of woven hemp was working on a bush, removing its flowers and placing them in a bag slung from her shoulder. ‘She is Sorcerer,’ confided Brindle.

At this the woman turned and began to walk out of the meadow towards them. She was frail, tiny and wizened, her gait was painful and stooped
and Ria recognised her as the player of the bone song in the Cave of Visions. Clumps of pinkish-grey hair protruded from her large head, giving her a disconcerting babylike appearance. But in the shadow of her prominent brow ridges, narrowly set above her broad nose, her grey eyes sparkled with wisdom and experience. Her breathing was shallow as she approached, with many wheezes and gurgles, her hollow chest rising and falling beneath her smock, and yet she radiated invincible inner strength.

Ria found that her heart was pounding, as though she faced some powerful animal, and fought off an impulse to back away. Then a warm and gentle thought-voice addressed her: ‘Greetings, Ria of the Clan. I am Merinabob-grundle-nupro-atrinkam.’

‘I shall call you Merina,’ Ria replied. ‘I loved the sound you made last night with the bone.’

Merina looked impressed: ‘You’ve learned how to thought-talk fast! Brindle told me you’re very special.’

For some reason the compliment made Ria feel uncomfortable: ‘I’m just a rabbit hunter,’ she objected. ‘There’s nothing special about me.’

‘But I’ve heard you have a special gift with stones,’ said Merina. Then, with surprising speed, she took hold of both Ria’s arms just below the elbows and began to knead and prod her flesh, working her way down to her hands, tugging at her fingers, and popping each of the joints in turn.

‘Ow!’ Ria protested. ‘What are you doing to me?’

‘Giving you magic,’ whispered Merina with a mischievous smile. She turned, leaving Ria’s arms tingling, and hobbled towards the little domeshaped tent. ‘Follow me, rabbit hunter,’ she said

Brindle pulled back the tent’s entrance flap to allow Merina to step inside. A beam of light falling through the opening illuminated the scene in the cramped dark space beyond as Ria followed, her heart still thudding. Hanging from the curved branches forming the tent’s framework, suspended on finely woven grass threads, hundreds of little quartz crystals danced, casting back a myriad of dazzling reflections like stars. Bundles of fragrant herbs and dried fungi were stored in wicker baskets on the floor.

Merina was feeling her way around the walls of the tent, setting the quartz crystals jingling above her head. She picked up and discarded various objects. Finally she announced ‘Here they are,’ and turned, holding out a deerskin pouch: ‘Five good throwing stones for Ria the rabbit hunter.’