passed him by. One minute he was in the midst of the Weave. The next the glories of the Fugue were behind him, and he was left standing in a bare field.
2
He wasn’t alone there. Several dozen Seerkind had chosen to step out into the Kingdom. Some stood alone watching their home consumed by the Weave, others were in small groups, debating feverishly; yet others were already heading off into the gloom before the Adamaticals came looking for them.
Among them, lit by the blaze of the Weave, a face he recognized: that of Apolline Dubois. He went to her. She saw him coming, but offered no welcome.
‘Have you seen Suzanna?’ he asked her.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve been cremating Frederick, and setting my affairs to rights,’ she said.
She got no further. An elegant individual, his cheeks rouged, now appeared at her side. He looked every inch a pimp.
‘We should go. Moth,’ he said. ‘Before the beasts are upon us.’
‘I know,’ Apolline said to him. Then to Cal: ‘We’re going to make our fortunes. Teaching you Cuckoos the meaning of desire.’
Her companion offered a less than wholesome grin. More than half his teeth were gold.
‘There are high times ahead,’ she said, and patted Cal’s cheek. ‘So you come see me one of these days,’ she said. ‘We’ll treat you well.’
She took the pimp’s arm.
The line of the Weave was by now a good distance from where Cal stood, and the numbers of Seerkind who’d emerged was well into three figures. He went amongst them, still looking for Suzanna. His presence was largely ignored; they had more pressing concerns, these people, delivered into the late twentieth century with only magic to keep them from harm. He didn’t envy them.
Amongst the refugees he caught sight of three of the Buyers, standing dazed and dusty, their faces blank. What would they make of tonight’s experiences he wondered. Would they pour the whole story out to their friends, and endure the disbelief and contempt heaped on their heads; or would they let the tale fester untold? The latter, he suspected.
Dawn was close. The weaker stars had already disappeared, and even the brightest were uncertain of themselves.
‘It’s over …’ he heard somebody murmur.
He looked back towards the Weave; the brilliance of its making had almost flickered out.
But suddenly, a shout in the night, and a beat later Cal saw three lights – members of the Amadou – rising from the embers of the Weave at enormous speed. They drew together as they rose, until, high above the streets and fields, they collided.
The blaze of their meeting illuminated the landscape as far as the eye could see. By it Cal glimpsed Seerkind running in all directions, averting their eyes from the brilliance.
Then the light died, and the pre-dawn gloom that followed seemed so impenetrable by contrast that Cal was effectively blind for a minute or more. As, by slow degrees, the world re-established itself about him, he realized that there had been nothing arbitrary about the fireworks or their effect.
The Seerkind had disappeared. Where, ninety seconds ago, there had been scraggling figures all around him, there was now emptiness. Under the cover of light, they’d made their escape.
XIII
A PROPOSAL
1
obart had seen the blaze of the Amadou too, though he was still two and a half miles from the spot. The night had brought disaster upon disaster. Richardson, still jittery after events at Headquarters, had twice driven the car into the back of stationary vehicles, and their route, which had taken them all over the Wirral, had been a series of cul-de-sacs.
But at last, here it was: a sign that their quarry was close.
‘What was that?’ said Richardson. ‘Looked like something exploding.’
‘God knows,’ said Hobart. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past these people. Especially the woman.’
‘Should we call in some back-up, sir? We don’t know their numbers.’
‘Even if we could –’ Hobart said, switching off the white noise which had swallowed Downey hours ago, ‘– I want to keep this quiet until we know what’s what. Kill the headlights.’
The driver did so, and they drove on in the murk that preceded daybreak. Hobart thought he could see figures moving in the mist beyond the grey foliage that lined the road. There was no time to investigate however; he would have to trust his instinct that the woman was somewhere up ahead.
Suddenly there was somebody in the road ahead of them. Cursing, Richardson threw the wheel over, but the figure seemed to leap up and over the car.
The vehicle mounted the pavement, and ran a few yards before Richardson brought it under control again.
Hobart had, and felt the same aching unease he’d felt back at Headquarters. These people were holding weapons that worked on a man’s sense of what was real, and he loved reality more than his balls.
‘No.’ Hobart said firmly. ‘There was no flying. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Don’t trust your eyes. Trust me.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And if anything else gets in your way,
2
The light that had blinded Cal blinded Shadwell too. He fell from the back of his human horse, and scrabbled around in the dirt until the world began to come back into focus. When it did two sights greeted him. One, that of Norris, lying on the ground sobbing like an infant. The other, Suzanna, accompanied by two of the Kind, emerging from the rubble of Shearman’s house.
They weren’t empty-handed. They were carrying the carpet. God, the carpet! He looked about him for the Incantatrix, but there was no-one near to aid him except the horse, who was well past aiding anybody.
‘Thank you so much,’ he said as he approached them, ‘for preserving my property.’
Suzanna gave him a single glance, then told the carpet-bearers:
‘Ignore him.’
That said, she led them towards the road.
Shadwell went after them quickly, and took firm hold of the woman’s arm. He was determined to preserve his politeness as long as possible; it always confused the enemy.
‘Do we have a problem here?’ he wondered.
‘No problem,’ Suzanna said.
‘The carpet belongs to me. Miss Parrish. I insist that it remain here.’
