Weaveworld

he ziggurat builder who’d stood guard outside Capra’s House was shouting at them from the edge of the field, courtesy preventing him from coming any closer.

‘They want you back at the House,’ he called.

As they walked back towards the myrtle trees it became apparent that events of some moment were afoot. Members of the Council were already leaving Capra’s House, urgency in their step and on their faces. The bells in the trees were all ringing, though there was no breeze moving, and there were lights above the House, like vast fire-flies.

The Amadou,’ said Jerichau.

The lights swooped and rose in elaborate configurations.

‘What are they doing?’ Suzanna asked.

‘Signalling,’ Jerichau replied.

‘Signalling what?’

As he went to reply, Yolande Dor appeared between the trees and stood in front of Suzanna.

They’re fools to trust you,’ she stated flatly. ‘But I tell you now, I’m not sleeping. You hear me? We have a right to live! You damn Cuckoos don’t own the earth!’ Then she was away, cursing Suzanna as she went.

That means they’re taking Romo’s advice,’ said Suzanna.

That’s what the Amadou are saying,’ Jerachau confirmed, still watching the sky.

‘I’m not sure I’m ready for this.’

Tung was at the door, calling her in.

‘Hurry, will you? We have precious little time.’

She hesitated. The menstruum offered her no courage now; her stomach felt like a cold furnace: ash and emptiness.

‘I’m with you,’ Jerichau reminded her, reading her anxiety.

His presence was some comfort. Together, they went inside.

When she stepped into the chamber she was greeted by an almost reverential hush. All eyes were turned on her. There was desperation in every face. Last time she’d been here, mere minutes ago, she’d been an invader. Now she was the one upon whom their fragile hopes for survival depended. She tried not to let her fear show, but her hands trembled as she stood before them.

‘We’re decided,’ said Tung.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Yolande told me.’

‘We don’t like it much,’ said one of the number, whom Suzanna recognized as a defector from Yolande’s faction. ‘But we’ve got no choice.’

‘There are already disturbances at the border,’ said Tung. ‘The Cuckoos know we’re here.’

‘And it’ll soon be morning,’ said Messimeris.

So it would. Dawn could be no more than ninety minutes away. An hour after that, and every curious Cuckoo in the vicinity would be wandering in the Fugue – not quite seeing it perhaps, but knowing there was something to stare at, something to fear. How long after that before there was a reprise of the scene on Lord Street?

‘Steps have been taken to begin the re-weaving,’ said Dolphi.

‘Is that difficult?’

‘No,’ said Messimeris. The Gyre has great power.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘We have perhaps an hour,’ said Tung, ‘to teach you about the Weave.’

An hour: what would she learn in an hour?

Tell me only as much as I need to know for your safety,’ she said. ‘And no more than that. What I don’t know I can’t let slip’

‘Point taken,’ said Tung. ‘No time for formalities, then. Let’s begin.’

X

THE SUMMONS

al woke suddenly.

There was a slight chill in the air, though that wasn’t what had woken him. It was Lemuel Lo, calling his name.

‘Calhoun … Calhoun …’

He sat up. Lemuel was at his side, smiling through the thicket of his beard.

‘There’s someone here asking for you,’ he said.

‘Oh?’

‘We haven’t much time, my poet,’ he said as Cal struggled to his feet. ‘The carpet’s being rewoven. In little more than minutes all this’ll be sleeping again. And me with it.’

‘That can’t be right.’ said Cal.

‘It is, friend. But I have no fear. You’ll be watching over us, won’t you?’

He clasped Cal’s hand in a fierce grip.

‘I dreamt something …’ Cal said.

‘What was that?’

‘I dreamt that this was real and the other wasn’t.’

Lemuel’s smile faded, ‘I wish what you dreamt were true,’ he said. ‘But the Kingdom’s all too real. It’s just that a thing that grows too certain of itself becomes a kind of lie. That’s what you dreamt. That the other place is a place of lies.’

Cal nodded. The grip on his hand tightened, as though there was a pact in the making.

‘Don’t be lost to it, Calhoun. Remember Lo, eh? And the orchard? Will you? Then we’ll see each other again.’

Lemuel embraced him.

‘Remember,’ he said, his mouth next to Cal’s ear.

Cal returned the bear-hug as best he could, given Lo’s girth. Then the orchard-keeper broke from him.

‘Best go quickly,’ he said. ‘Your visitor has important business, she says,’ and he strode away to where the rug was being rolled up, and some last melancholy songs sung.

Cal watched him thread his way between the trees, his fingers brushing against the bark of each as he passed. Commanding them to sweet sleep, no doubt.

‘Mr Mooney?’

Cal looked round. There was a small woman with distinctly oriental features standing two trees’ breadth from him. In her hand she held a lamp, which she raised as she approached him, her scrutiny both lengthy and unapologetic.

‘Well,’ she said, her voice musical, ‘he told me you were handsome, and so you are. In a quirky kind of way.’

She cocked her head slightly, as if trying to make better sense of Cal’s physiognomy.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-six. Why?’

‘Twenty-six,’ she said. ‘His mathematics is terrible.’

So’s mine, Cal was about to say, but there were other more pressing questions. The first of which was:

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Chloe,’ came the woman’s reply. ‘I’ve come to fetch you. We should hurry. He gets impatient.’

‘Who does?’

‘Even if we had time to talk I’m forbidden to tell you,’ Chloe replied. ‘But he’s eager to see you, that I can say. Very eager.’

She turned and started to walk away from the corridor of trees. She was still speaking, but Cal couldn’t catch the words. He set off in pursuit of her, the end of a sentence drifting back to him.

‘– not time by foot –’