“We light a fire,” Harlan said, without
a moment’s hesitation. “A big one. High.
On the Isle. In the tower.”
“That would be a sacrilege,” Hugosaid.
“No,” said Harlan, turning to face him. “Agawin was born of fire. Even Colmsensed that when we gathered round thedais. Fire is the medium of the legend, Hugo. Agawin, or his dragons, will aid us. I’m sure.”
“Fine sentiments,” said Terance, “easily forgotten in front of a Re:mover. You plan to use the fire to draw them here?”
“Yes. They’ll come in a taxicar. We set a trap. Disable them. Steal the car.”
Murmurs started up all around the circle. Hugo immediately called for quiet. “Tell us what you learned from Colm at the end.”
Harlan pressed his hands together for amoment. “If the Re:movers are immersed
in water and held there, they will
malfunction.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” declared Thomas. “For a sec, I thought it was going to be dangerous!”
The circle exploded in a riot of laughter.
“I’ve always wanted a pond. I’ll get on to it right away.”
“We don’t need a body of water,” said Harlan, raising his voice above the guffaws. “We have the marshes.”
The laughter trailed away into silence.
“How would you get them to it?” asked Hugo.
“Please tell me you’ve got something clever,” whispered Mathew.
Harlan shook his head. “One of us,maybe two, needs to lead them across themost treacherous of the bogs.”
Among the grunts of incredulity Rodericsaid, “It’s not possible, Harlan. Even ifyou didn’t put a foot out of place theirscanners would bring you down.”
“Not if the distance was right,” said Bernard. “The scanners are short rangedevices. Harlan’s plan could work, but thetiming would need to be perfect.”
Terance Humbey sighed and slappedhis hands to his thighs. “If we fail, we alldie. You realise that?” He flicked a stone
into the circle. No one made a comment.
“Then we vote,” Mathew said. “Those in favour of Harlan’s plan, stand up.” Mathew was off his tree stump first. Then Harlan. And Bernard. Until eventually,
every man present was on his feet.
“Carried,” Hugo said, with a nervous gulp. “I move we draw lots to determine which men will run from the machines.”
“I volunteer,” said Mathew. He raised his hand quickly to quash the muttering. “I’m the youngest and the swiftest. I know the marsh well. It would be foolish to send in anyone but me.”
“And me,” said a quiet voice. Surprisingly, Terance stepped forward.
“But you’re our medic,” said Harlan.
To which Terance replied, “A medic who will be of no use to anyone if the Re:movers survive. I ran for pleasure before I was sent here. I’m fitter than
most. Like Mathew, I’ve studied the layout of the marsh. We might as well make use of that.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Hugo. “Harlan, our lives now rest upon you. What would you have us do?”
Harlan pointed to the Isle of Alavon. “Gather dry grasses. As many as you can carry. Take them to the tower. We need to make a beacon. A light that can be seen all over the Dead Lands.”
“It’s going to take several days,” said Roderic.
“Time is not something we are short of,” said Hugo. “Begin.”
The men peeled away, leaving Mathew to speak alone to Harlan and Bernard. “You realise the Re:movers might not come? And even if they do and we get our ride back, this alien creature you speak of may have done all it needs to do by then.”
“At least we’ll know that we tried,”
said Bernard.
Harlan nodded and clapped a hand to Mathew’s shoulder. “Have faith, there may be a twist to this, yet. Now, let’s find something that will burn.”
9
Little did Harlan Merriman know thatthere would indeed be a strange twist tocome. While he and his tribe were
building their pyre, the black firebird was flying in haste through the night, crossing over the Dead Lands and the imagineered security zone around Co:pern:ica Central, back to Bushley and the librarium there. It was an exhausting flight, hampered by the need to take in air through the nostrils while the beak was clamped around the dragon’s claw. It could, of course, have carried the claw in its feet. But after days of occupation and lack of vital nutrients, the muscular structure of the body was fading. The risk of losing the claw was
too great. The answer, the Cluster told itself, was to fly through the physical discomfort, find another stupid bird and take control of that. Fresh wings would take it anywhere it needed to go, and there were plenty of those in the eyrie.
As it approached the colossal building, stabbed like a giant spike into the earth, it was surprised to see a room on the lower floor on fire. Higher up, a dozen or more birds were beginning to flock, possibly getting ready to deal with the flames. The black bird tipped a wing and circled a moment, using the clouds to keep itself hidden. This could be a useful distraction, it thought. An opportunity to scrutinise the roof of the building where the auma of this world seemed to radiate from. Then again, how much effort would it take to glide
down to that room and see what was happening? This failing body still had strength enough for that.
So it landed on the sill and immediately observed three prominent life forms: the girl that seemed to inhabit the building, and two more firebirds, including one that spoke.
Aubrey?
it said in a questioning manner. The black bird
caarked
in its
throat. It had made itself known. That was foolish. This cream one was clever. It was
sure to come looking. Unless it could be the Cluster’s new body…
But just as the Ix prepared to transfer, one of the transport vehicles appeared. Out of it jumped the lifeform, David, who had sometimes lived in the building, too. The black bird cursed and took to the sky, hiding itself in the plumes of smoke. It
landed on another sill twelve floors up. From there it watched the flock come
swooping down and follow David into the burning room.
It was a trivial setback. Nothing more. Rest, recover, relocate. The Ix prepared itself to fight another day. But as it folded down the firebird’s wings, the Cluster grew aware of another presence. A potent source of fain, looming right behind it. The bird whipped round, with every intention of flaming the stalker, but the claw it was carrying in its mouth prevented it. (
Design!
) By the time the claw had been spat, it was too late. A sack, imagineered from the strongest fireproof material there could be, was over the bird’s body, knotted with rope of a similar strength. And though the Ix
Cluster tried to escape and overcome itscaptor’s mind, the captor had prepared forthat, too. A powerful neural emission putthe creature’s fain into immediate stasis.
Aunt Gwyneth bent down and picked upthe claw. Dragon. It spoke to her fromevery fibre. Not a bad result at all, afterthe disaster with those useless twins. Extending her fain, she lightly probed theconsciousness in the sack.
“Well, well,” she whispered. “So,that’s what you are.” Pure fain, inverted. Wickedness – in a bag.
She pulled back as the creature triedagain to possess her. She must be careful. This thing was clever. And strong. Already she could sense it splitting andregrouping, trying to find any source ofweakness in her mind.
Trust me, that won’t work
, she told it. A somewhat hollow threat as it happened. In truth, it was all she could do to maintainthe delicate balance of power. If she letdown her guard, this being would kill her. A tricky situation. Her only option was tonegotiate.
Keeping up the arrogant front, she said,
I’m prepared to make you…an offer.
What is your proposal?
the Ix replied.
Aunt Gwyneth turned to the daisy fields. Not since her time in the Aunt Academy,learning what was right and what waswrong, had she been so entranced by theconcept of power.
A union
, she said.
A commingling?
A union
.
Under
my
command
.
There was a pause. The Ix said,
We
agree
.
And the most unholy alliance in thehistory of Co:pern:ica began right there.
Though it nearly didn’t.
As Aunt Gwyneth slackened her gripand let the Ix merge with her neuralpathways, an almighty struggle began. The Ix was a thing that possessed noconscience. What else could it do butbetray her trust, even though that trust wasadmittedly misplaced? It swept throughher mind and tried at once to assume
control. It was a close-run thing. Her assessment of the Cluster had been quite accurate. Powerful. Ingenious. A
dedicated killer. But she, an Aunt Su:perior,
the
Aunt Su:perior, had not risen to that rank through kindness and courtesy. She had power – and cunning – in abundance, too. Turning her fain to near
maximum, she broke the Cluster, as Harlan had done, and subjugated the Ix in different parts of her mind.
Try that again and I’ll eliminate you, colony by colony
, she told them.
Wisely, the Ix flattened off a little.
Now you will tell me why you are here.
We seek control of the nexus
, they said.
Aunt Gwyneth relaxed her fain intotheirs. A nexus. An entanglement of time. How interesting.
There is a time pointhere? Where to?
she asked.
The Ix floated into her consciousness.
The nexus triangulates between threeworlds. On Co:pern:ica, within thistower of stone. On a thought dimensioncalled Ki:mera, colonised by the spirit ofdragons. And on a low-level physicalplane, where it resolves at the battle of
Isenfier.
What is the name of the last world?
said Gwyneth.
The Ix pulsed and seemed unwilling to
answer.
A blue planet of rock and water
,
they said,
once used as a dragon
breeding ground. Its name is ‘Earth’
.
Part Four
which has its beginnings
– and its peculiar
endings –
in a remarkable re-
ordering
of the Bushley
Librarium
March 11 032
1
In the aftermath of the librarium blaze, David carried Rosa into the daisy fields tomake sure she was able to breathe clean
air. The firebirds, their job complete, dispersed. As she watched them heading back toward the upper floors, Aurielle glanced at Azkiar and saw the despondency in his eyes. He needed a task, she thought, to take his mind from the lingering smell of burning paper. She fluttered to his side and suggested he fly off in search of Aubrey. Azkiar crossed the tips of his beak. He was keen to make amends for the damage he’d caused, but he could see no point in scouring the eyrie looking for Aubrey.
So Aurielle told him what she had seen.
The black firebird. The blood. The
distance in its eyes.
Firebirds are never black,
said Azkiar. Aurielle recalled the image on the sill.
I know – but it looked like Aubrey
, she said.
Azkiar blew a heavy sigh. Aurielle’s visual sensors had surely been smokestained. She’d seen a silhouette, nothing more, he thought; it happened in a window in the eyrie every day. But she had that fretful look in her eye, the one that always made him want to
do
things for her. He preened a loose feather and said he would try, even though he was sure that Aubrey had simply fallen into hibernation somewhere. A firebird could sleep for half a spin, if it wished. But it would do no harm to run a quick check of the lower
floors. Especially if it stopped Aurielle pitying him.
He found the body on Level 12. On the floorboards, underneath the window, lifeless. Dropped there like a discarded rag. For several moments, Azkiar couldn’t approach it. He had seen a dead firebird twice before, but never in a state like this. Carefully, he tottered up, extended a foot and tilted the flaccid head towards him. He studied the glazed and faraway eye. The ducts had opened, the tear had discharged. Some days ago by the look of things. The blood mark was recent (and a concern), but it was the condition of the plumage that made his toes curl. The feathers lacked colour, just as Aurielle had said. But they were a uniform grey, not a midnight black. Their shine had
disappeared, leaving them brittle, ugly and dry. He rocked the body lightly under his foot. Even with pressure, it did not break down. That puzzled him deeply. Normally, a firebird’s body would disintegrate shortly after its tear had been shed. Something was preventing that from happening here. It was as if poor Aubrey had been frozen in a kind of undead form, hovering, as it were, between two worlds. Azkiar took a pace back. His first impulse was to burn this abomination flat. But Aurielle would have his ear tufts for