‘Not enough time.’
‘Maybe not to rescue Norma but maybe enough to stop the Rite of Transference.’
‘How do you figure that?’
‘I remember an article in The Stormer that described the rites Crowley performed to welcome the beginning of Spring. It said something about there being a window cut in the roof of the cavern set at the top of the tallest ExterSteine column and that it was through this window that the first light of the first day of Spring was directed. According to Crowley, this first light of Spring had great occult significance. Maybe if we can block the window we can stop the rite.’
They ran as hard as they could through the swirling snow and the faltering darkness, guided by the shimmering Mantle-ite columns, and as they came closer the other-worldliness of the structure became more apparent. ExterSteine was made up of five gigantic columns that stabbed like rigid fingers out from the middle of the flat, snow-dressed grassland that was the Hub, the Mantle-ite columns luminous in the darkness. Ella guessed the tallest column of the five – Lilith’s Column – stood over two hundred foot tall and was about a hundred foot in girth. Lights flickered at the summit.
A strange, eerie feeling washed over her.
She’d been here before. ‘
That’s where the Rite of Transference must be taking place,’ she called out. ‘That must be where Crowley conducts his rituals.’
Vanka pointed to a staircase that wound around the column. ‘And that’s the way up.’
Ella could only think that the rite being performed by Crowley was so secret that he wanted as few people to witness it as possible and that was why there were no SS StormTroopers guarding the staircase. Indeed, all the Hubland stretching out around ExterSteine seemed deserted, the snow untarnished by footprints or steamer tracks.
Climbing the column was tough: the stairs were steep, the steps slippery with ice and snow, and the savage wind buffeted them every step of the way, but there was no time to pause for breath. As she climbed she couldn’t resist the temptation to drift her fingers over the runic inscriptions etched over the surface of the Mantle-ite column. And though the runes were written in the untranslatable Pre-Folk A and though even PINC couldn’t provide her with an interpretation of what the inscriptions said, she knew what was written there… knew that once she had spoken this strange language.
In Lilith | I, Loki, was reborn.
And reborn | Lilith scorned
ABBA’s harmony. | Through Lilith’s sorcery | the harmony was destroyed.
Harmony she said | is the iced touch of the ideal. | The dead hand the frozen soul | the unvoiced idea the unfurling | of the flower never blossoming.
To build | anew
Lilith | in her quiet fury razed. | This is the first truth.
To build | you must first destroy.
The ruined perfection of the Vanir erased.
She had no time to ponder on what was written: the dawn light that with every passing minute advanced over the eastern horizon urged her on. Time was short. Desperately she pushed her protesting body up the stairs until she arrived, breathless, panting and dizzy from her exertions, at the flat, circular top of the column that tilted towards the rising sun. She found herself standing on the summit of the world.
Ella hated heights and she had never been anywhere where her feeling of vertigo was so intense. The Demi-Monde stretching out below her seemed a very long way down and she was made to feel even more vulnerable by the way the wind whistled around her as she struggled to keep her footing on the slick Mantle- ite.
‘Over there,’ Vanka shouted over the howling gusts. ‘To the east. The shutters must be over there.’
Leaning into the wind, they pushed their way to the eastern side of the column. Vanka was right: a pair of great wooden shutters covered that side, facing towards the rapidly rising sun. There was a huge wooden lever next to them that presumably operated the shutters.
Why aren’t they guarded?
Vanka whipped his belt from around his waist. ‘If we tie this around the handles of the shutters that’ll stop them being opened!’
His explanation was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a revolver being cocked. They looked up to see Burlesque Bandstand – a much thinner-faced Burlesque Bandstand, it had to be said – wrapped in a dublonka, sitting with his legs dangling carelessly over the side of the column, and brandishing a purposeful-looking Webley pistol in their direction. By the light of the rising sun Ella could see there was a body of a dead SS StormTrooper beside him.
He raised the pistol and took careful aim at Vanka’s forehead.
‘‘Appy First ov Spring, Wanker, you bastard.’
Empress Wu was holding court in the Shwedagon Palace which dominated East Rangoon. After the cramped hustle and bustle of the Rookeries the huge gardens that surrounded the Palace came as a surprise to Trixie: she found it difficult to believe there could be anywhere in the Demi-Monde so profligate with space. It was as though she were walking through a place that was in the Demi-Monde but not of the Demi-Monde.
Once inside the Palace she was ushered briskly along the brilliantly decorated corridors until she was brought to a halt before two vast and richly embossed doors. First Deputy Borgia turned to her. ‘This is the Hall of the Great Dragon. Beyond these doors is seated the Sacred Presence of the Great Empress Wu. You will address the Great Empress as “Your Imperial Majesty”. You will approach the Great Empress Wu with your eyes averted: under no circumstances are you to gaze on her Divine Form directly. When you reach the black line inscribed across the floor of the hall you are to genuflect…’
‘Kneel? Colonels in the WFA don’t kneel to anyone.’
‘Please, Colonel, try to understand. This is Coven protocol, it cannot be changed.’
Oh yes it can, decided Trixie as she gave the First Deputy a nod of acceptance.
‘Under no circumstances are your knees, your hands or any other parts of your body to cross that line. You may answer the questions posed to you by Her Imperial Majesty but whilst you may answer her questions…’
‘Under no circumstances am I to address her directly,’ suggested Trixie peevishly. She was too tired for this nonsense.
‘Indeed. You may use your inferior Anglo tongue when making your replies: the Empress Wu is familiar and fluent in all of the primitive languages of the Demi-Monde.’ The First Deputy glanced disdainfully at Wysochi. ‘Your Preferred Male is not permitted to enter the Hall of the Great Dragon. Only Femmes and NoNs may gaze upon the Divine Form of the Empress.’
Instructions completed, the First Deputy made a sign to the two sentries guarding the entrance to the hall – both the guards were women, and both, Trixie noticed, were armed with brand new M4s – who hauled the doors open to reveal the vast hall beyond.
M4s…
Why would Heydrich have provided the Coven with M4s if he was about to make war on it?
Still pondering this, Trixie strode off across the beautifully inlaid teak floor towards the small woman she could see seated on a throne at the far side of the room.
By repute the Empress Wu was the most beautiful woman in the Demi-Monde, but as she was protected from any indiscreet peeking by drapes of sheer silk wafting in front of her Trixie was unable to confirm or deny the rumour.
She came to the black line the First Deputy had warned her about, and with just a moment’s hesitation dropped to her knees and bowed to the shadowed form of the Empress.
‘You are very young,’ observed a lilting, almost sing-song voice.
Trixie remained silent. In truth she didn’t quite know how to reply: she was young.
‘And very dirty.’
This too was correct. Looking down at her knees, Trixie could see that her filthy, matted trousers were leaving streaks of dirt on the immaculately polished floor.
‘But this, I suppose, is to be expected when one is confronted by a Femme so given to martial pursuits. I
