court would once have been filled with beautiful aromas.
In its time, it must have been a breathtaking place, Church guessed; now it stank and seethed, filled with the hollow hopes of desperate people who knew death was always a step or two away.
After struggling to live off the land for so many weeks, they thought they would have even more trouble obtaining food in the overpopulated city, but they encountered enough people who were aware of the growing legend of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to guide them to a place of shelter. Veitch was stunned that their reputation could earn them free food and drink in the rooftop cafe when so many were starving, everything they required given freely, and without obligation.
Irritable in the heat, Tom joined Church and was instantly presented with a cup of the hot, spicy drink. The waitress, a tall, willowy woman with a forked snake-tongue, bowed. 'True Thomas,' she lisped. 'Your presence here is recognised and welcomed.'
Tom nodded grumpily. 'It grates on me to be treated like an elite,' he said when the waitress had gone. 'All those people out there suffering and we get free drinks.'
'It makes them happy,' Church replied. 'They believe in us, and want to hope that we can make things better for them. If that's the least we can do, then it's something. Everyone deserves a little hope to make them happier.'
Tom snorted. 'Hope is meaningless if there's no chance of it being effected. Otherwise it's just delusion.' He fixed a cold eye on Church. 'Are you losing hope?'
'I'm not planning the victory party, if that's what you mean. I'm waiting for a sign that there's still some way we can make a difference. The Puck has helped me more than once. Why hasn't he appeared since Winter-side? Because there's nothing we can do?'
'The universe gives you a helping hand when you put some energy into the process yourself, not when you're sitting back hoping something will just turn up.'
'We are doing something. The others are out gathering information about the Enemy, the Fortress — they call it the House of Pain around here. What we need right now is a way into it.'
'And what are you doing?'
'Thinking.'
The Morvren had gathered on every treetop around the city; often silent, they were now cawing as if filled with an insatiable hunger. Their number had increased rapidly, and Church didn't know if it was because they were breeding, if the possibility of death that attracted them had grown more intense, or if it was symbolic of the level of threat now facing him. From the rooftop, it looked as if a black shroud had been laid across the steaming jungle.
'My mistake,' Tom said, blowing on his drink. 'I thought you were doing nothing.'
'Why hasn't the Libertarian been hounding us?' Church asked.
'We have been a little elusive.'
'He's me. He must know what I've done, where I've been. So why doesn't he just turn up out of the blue, slit everyone's throats, dump me in a cell and be done with it?'
'Time and memory are slippery things,' Tom began edgily. 'We can't trust ourselves. We never quite remember things how they actually were. And time itself is not fixed, you know that. On every occasion you go back, something subtle alters. It might not be enough to change the big events ranged through history like tent- poles supporting the whole damn canvas of everything. Or it might. The Libertarian has to be extremely cautious. He won't want to risk doing anything that might stop him coming into being, so that he winks out like a star at dawn.'
'It makes my head hurt thinking about it,' Church grumbled.
'That's because you see things in a linear way, and in terms of simple cause and effect. I've lived with my ragged view of the future for a long time, and I can tell you that nothing is clear, everything shifts and changes like the grains of sand on the beach, and you can never predict which way one will go.'
'He must think like me, so I've been trying to put myself in his head,' Church continued. 'What does he want? For me to change and become him, I presume. If I don't, he doesn't get to exist. You're right — this whole screwed-up timeline thing is a mess, but if the Libertarian is still around, then what lies ahead guarantees I become him. Things are panning out just as they should, from the Libertarian's point of view, like clockwork. But he's not going to take any chance that I might change events, or that the Puck might push me down another path or something, so he's going to keep manipulating me into situations that will make me become him. Basically, if he's not around, things are going badly. If he is, there's a chance I might be able to put things right.'
'I don't think it's wholly wise to put yourself into the Libertarian's thought processes. That alone may be leading you towards that destiny.'
Church sipped his hot drink thoughtfully. 'Another thing: the Blue Fire exists all over our world, if you look closely enough. It's here in the Far Lands, certainly, but not to the same degree. And why isn't this place swarming with Fabulous Beasts? You'd have thought of all places, here would be their true home, where they'd thrive.'
A hint of a smile flickered on Tom's lips before he wiped it away. 'Yes, I wonder why that is.'
'I suppose you're not going to tell me.'
'Where would be the fun in that? Especially when you're doing so well with your thinking,' Tom added caustically.
'When did things become so difficult?' Church asked after a moment's reflection. 'It used to be so easy, in our world, with the Blue Fire everywhere. Seeing the magic in the world. The choices were clear.'
Tom's brief glance revealed an unusual hint of tenderness. 'If the choices are clear they are usually false choices. Life is muddy and complex, without any easy answers.'
'But these days I'm not even sure we're on the right side. I don't know what I'm fighting for any more. I don't know why I'm having to make all these sacrifices.'
'You've been on the road a long time. You're weary-'
'It's beyond that. What if the Libertarian is right? People aren't in the world for long. They just want a little security, a few home comforts, time to spend with their loved ones. Is that so bad? All I want is some time with Ruth, to enjoy what we have. Why should I give that up to keep fighting for something I don't understand any more?'
Tom made to speak, then caught himself, his expression registering a deep concern. Church was distracted by the sight of the Morvren suddenly taking wing as one, a black cloud that blocked out the sun and cast the whole city into shade.
What's disturbed them? he wondered.
2
The crowd smelled of lime and vinegar and allspice, woodsmoke, bitumen and sulphur, and the hot odour that came off skin on a summer's day. From a feverish dream or a nightmare drawn from nursery storybooks, the inhabitants of the court came in a vast wave, sweeping in eddies around obstacles, fallen bodies, sleeping beasts, surging off each other, too-fast, too-slow, with everywhere and nowhere to go. It was impossible to see more than a couple of feet on any side. Some begged for food, or board, or information, others ran with the hope of a destination or fled some unrevealed threat, fear burning in their faces. Some had murder in their eyes, or the sly desire to make gain from misfortune.
'Jesus Christ, this is worse than Oxford Street just before Christmas,' Veitch complained as he and Shavi pushed through the throng. Overhead, people hung from windows, two or three crammed into the gap, wailing or yelling to people across the way. The din made his ears hurt.
'You can almost smell the desperation. These beings have known nothing but always-summer, and now they sense the twilight coming in.'
'There you go again, feeling sorry for a bunch of people you don't know.' Veitch roughly thrust aside a man rippling with rolls of fat, his clothes sodden with sweat. 'I've missed you. You're my conscience.'
'And I have missed you, my friend. More than you might know. We were all bereft when we thought you dead after the Battle of London, but I felt as if I had truly lost a brother. A brother more than the brothers of my own
