“Gladys’s daughter,” he said. “With a message from Gladys.”
“What?” exclaimed the other two. Amanda added, “I never knew she’d been married — or — or — Anyway, how extraordinary!”
“The poor girl must have had a terrible childhood,” Paulie said feelingly.
Mark was inclined to agree. “She said they didn’t get on.”
Amanda gave that stern little frown of hers. “Never mind that. What was the message?”
Mark told them and astonished them a second time.
“Gone after Zillah!” said Paulie. “Why should that make a crisis? That girl is always dropping out. She’s probably just joined a squat somewhere.”
Amanda frowned again. “What is this danger? Where is this girl who’ll know? In hospital?”
“No,” said Mark. “She’s dead.”
“Dead!” shrilled Paulie. “Gone after Zillah, and she tells you to consult a dead girl!”
“How long ago?” Amanda asked intently.
“About six weeks now,” said Mark. “Gladys is right. She should be over the shock now.”
“Or she could be dissipated,” said Paulie. “Gone after Zil—!”
“Shut up, Paulie!” Amanda snapped. “Be helpful or be quiet. Mark, we’d better get in touch with her at once, don’t you think? What was her name?”
“We never found out,” Mark explained. “The hospital had no idea, and she didn’t—”
“And you don’t even know her name!” Paulie said disgustedly.
Amanda stood up and advanced on Paulie like an avenging queen. “Paulie—”
“She’s tired and overwrought,” Mark said hastily.
“No she’s not,” said Amanda. “No more than I am. My sister is missing, and I spent the whole sleepless night receiving warnings in every conceivable way, and yet I can still behave reasonably! Paulie is just strutting into the center of the stage in her usual selfish way, and you, Mark, are conniving with her to let her. As you both always do. Paulie, you behave or I’ll make you! This is serious.”
They stared at her like injured children, such was her majesty. At length, Paulie whispered, “Sorry.”
“Good,” said Amanda. “Now, Mark, what made Gladys think you’d be able to contact this girl’s soul?”
“Because she was desperate to tell me something when she died,” he admitted. “I’m sorry — it was so peculiar that I’ve rather avoided thinking about it, but I should have told you. Apart from anything else, she was probably from the pirate universe. Gladys was sure she was. I think that was what made Gladys see I was right.”
“Then,” said Amanda, “let’s get on with it. Are you helping, Paulie? Good — get over there then. Mark, you take the north and do the invocation. How many candles?”
“Just one in the middle,” said Mark.
There were few other questions. They all knew what to do. Shortly, with the solitary candle casting dark leaf-flickers over ceiling and faces, and gusting occasionally from the wind that still roared outside, they stood in three-quarters of a circle, and Mark, standing with his back to the fire so that the glow of it shone red through his gown, spread his arms and began the strange, simple call that summoned a dead soul.
By fire and flete and candlelight, to hearth and house and warmth, he called, and called three times. The sound of the wind dropped away. None of them heard anything but the light breathing of the others and the gentle whickering of the candle flame.
He spread his arms to call her to earth and air and flame, but she was there already. She had been yearning for the call. Her gusty voice filled the room.
Oh, I’m so glad!
They had all expected her to manifest, if she was visible at all, somewhere among the plants where they had left space for her to come, but she manifested instead in the middle, hovering over the candle like a tall, streaming nimbus, causing the skin of them all to prickle with the haunting energy of her. She had not been, perhaps, very beautiful in life, but she was beautiful now. She had, Mark remembered, manifested like a flame at her death. She was all flame now.
I knew you’d call, her voice gusted. I waited. I had to tell you. I knew you didn’t know.
“Which of us are you speaking to?” Amanda asked quietly.
The man I came to this otherworld to find, she said. The one who called me. Herrel Listanian.
“His name is Mark Lister,” Paulie said. “You mean he’s an analogue?”
No, the gusty voice insisted. The man who called is Herrel Listanian.
Paulie drew breath to argue. Amanda’s eyes caught the candlelight and glinted off the substance of the ghost as she stopped Paulie with a look. “Please explain,” she said.
His name. His mother gave him a new name when she broke him in half and sent this half here to otherworld, the dead girl gusted. Forgive me. I helped her. I thought it would save him. But she used both halves as her puppets just as she always did. Mark could feel her presence orientate on him. The candle flame streamed toward him, imploringly, and guttered with the flickering voice. Forgive me. I helped put you here to spy for her, and now I can feel her pursuing you with a sending. You must have disobeyed her. Forgive me. The only good that came of it is that she stopped punishing you like this for a while.
“His mother is who?” Amanda asked.
Marceny, chief Lady of Leathe, the reply came, but the candle flame still streamed toward Mark. She sent you to rule the magework here and tell her what you knew. I helped because I thought it would save you. It was done for pity and love. Forgive me.
“How would it save him?” said Amanda.
To have the best half of yourself free, the voice gusted pleadingly. And you were free, and I saw you didn’t know. So I had to come to tell you, to atone, but I died too soon. Forgive me. Let me go.
Mark could hardly move. His face, and his tongue, were stiff, but he managed to croak, “I — forgive you,” and the words of release.
She gave a small, gusting sigh. The nimbus faded away, and the candle flame burned straight.
“Mark!” squawked Paulie.
Amanda gave her another quelling look. “Who was she, Mark?”
“Colny Ventoran, my mother’s best assistant,” he answered without thinking. “She always was rather an intense little—” He stopped, seeing the way they were both looking at him.
“Then you’re from the pirate universe?” said Amanda.
“I rather fear I must be,” he agreed.
IX Arth and Pentarchy
1
“You what?” said Edward.
“Come from otherworld,” Judy repeated, speaking very muffled, with her head down to twiddle the tapes of her medical gown. “We all do — the whole capsule did.”
Edward, as always, did not react in any way she expected. Instead of demanding to know more, exclaiming, repudiating her, or racing off to inform the High Head, he simply turned away to the blue embrasure of the window, where he stood gazing out at the blank blueness and tapping the fingers of his large, agile right hand on the sill. Judy waited, long, long minutes. Before the wait was over, she was fighting herself not to say — in what she knew would be a girlish whine — Don’t you love me anymore now? Edward had this ability to make her behave — and feel — like an insecure schoolgirl. Perhaps, she thought, this was because it was what she was deep down and naturally. Before she knew Edward, she had never, not once, felt natural with any man.