The thought of taking Nunnly's life made me physically ill, but what Anotine had said was true. Still, my mind worked feverishly for another solution. I thought about Wenau, where I was a healer, and wondered what I would do there. There were no herbs or roots of the forest that could reverse the effects of the Delicate's attack.
"Give it back to me, Cley. I'll do it," said Anotine. "I can't watch this anymore."
As she reached for the Lady Claw, I stopped her hand. From out of the storm of confusion in my mind, a single white image presented itself. I thought of Anotine's secret place and the tree that grew there. I had seen the fruit that hung from its branches work miracles in my own reality. Its effects could be short-term or long, for better or for worse, depending somehow upon the morality of the person ingesting it. I knew it had saved Aria Beaton's life after I had butchered her, trying to rework her physiognomy. I also believed it was the long-acting effects of it that had years later erased the hideous scars from her face and allowed her to remove the green veil. It was the catalyst that had destroyed the Well-Built City after Below had partaken of it. I hoped now that in this world it could save Nunnly's life.
21
There was no time for me to explain to Anotine the history of the white fruit or what I hoped it would accomplish. Searching the ground for the sponge I had removed from the scalpel, I quickly found it and secured the instrument, putting it back in my boot. Then I walked over to where Nunnly lay and gently helped Brisden to his feet.
"Take the spears" I said to Anotine as I bent over to gather up the wriggling, loose parcel that was now the engineer. As I hoisted him into my arms, he groaned unmercifully. He was surprisingly light, but hard to get ahold of because of the state the Delicate had left his body in.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To your special place with the fountain of the monkey," I said.
We merely exchanged a look, and I believe she knew I had something in mind. As I trudged down the corridor with Nunnly draped across my arms, I thought of myself in the arms of Misrix, flying through his memory above the forests of the Beyond. Anotine gathered up the spears and prodded Brisden along in our direction. We were particularly vulnerable to an attack just then, but luckily the Delicate seemed to be somewhere else, no doubt tending to his wounds. I knew, from having passed the low opening in the wall so many times that night, exactly where I was going.
We traversed two alleys and a terrace. After that there was only one flight of stairs to climb, in the middle of which I almost dropped poor Nunnly. By the time we made it to the top, my arms were cramped with pain and my heart was pounding. The engineer's breathing had grown erratic, and his supplications had withered to near-inaudible whimpers. Anotine moved ahead of me as we got closer to our destination, making sure that Brisden kept pace with her. As I staggered across the last courtyard toward the wall with the opening, I saw her kneel and toss the spears into the secret place. She then crawled through herself and helped Brisden to enter.
I carefully placed Nunnly down at the opening, and she reached out and took him by the shoulders. She pulled, and I pushed, and we managed to get him through the portal. Once I had entered, myself, I lay back on the stones and rested. My body was aching from the exertion, and my breathing was nearly as erratic as that of the engineer's.
"Cley," said Anotine, "why are we here?"
"Help me up," I pleaded, and she leaned over and grabbed my hand.
The place was as serene as ever, the fountain water quietly splashing, the monkey frozen in his dance. Then I turned, and to my delight, the tree bearing the white fruit had, unlike the rest of the plant life on the island, not succumbed to the disease of disintegration. As I had hoped, it stood strong with all its leaves, the pale globes of fruit hanging ripe and heavy. Brisden sat, with the glowing sample jar beside him, on the bench that encircled its trunk, and the peaceful nature of that scene made me momentarily forget the danger we were in.
I walked toward the tree with Anotine beside me, and only then did I begin quickly to describe the properties of the fruit as I knew them. Continuing with my explanation, I stepped up onto the bench next to where Brisden sat and reached into the low-hanging branches to pick a large specimen that in its bleached complexion seemed to emit its own light. Holding it in my hand, I could again smell that sweet aroma I associated with my daydreams of paradise. It brought me back to Misrix's Museum of the Ruins, where I had, myself, tasted the flesh of the delicacy. My discourse trailed off as I wondered for a moment how and when the fruit would change me, or if the fact that I had survived as long as I had in the mnemonic world was already a sign of its miraculous influence.
"It seems you are expecting quite a lot from it," said Ano-tine, bringing me back from my thoughts.
"Perhaps," I said, stepping down off the bench.
Brisden, who had been unusually silent for some time, let loose another stampede of words that I think had to do with the nature of miracles.
Anotine and I returned to Nunnly and knelt down on either side of him. I retrieved the scalpel from my boot and removed the protective sponge, flicking it off with my thumb. With the other hand, I brought the fruit up in front of us and made ready to cut it. The idea was to get as thin a slice of the pulp inside as I could so that it would melt in our patient's mouth. I trimmed away the skin from the outside of one half of it and then cut three hair's-width slices. When I had collected them in my palm, I handed Anotine the scalpel. Leaning low over Nunnly, I forced the wafers into his mouth.
"We'll wait for a few minutes and see if there is any effect," I said, resting back on my knees.
"If there isn't?" asked Anotine.
"I'll end his life," I said.
Anotine looked up, away from me, and took a deep breath. "Look, Cley," she said, "the sky is lightening. Day is coming."
From her expression, I couldn't tell if she was pleased with this or if it frightened her more than the night. I tilted my head and saw the stars fading into a sky of black and blue. Nunnly gave a sudden grunt, and I quickly turned my attention back to him.
"No," I said, as I watched the flesh of the engineer's face begin to pucker into wrinkles. I had no idea what was about to happen, but I had a sudden feeling in my stomach that it wasn't going to be good.
"He's turning black," cried Anotine, pointing to some spots that were forming on the skin around his mouth. These blemishes spread like spilled ink, dyeing every inch of his skin, the texture of which was also undergoing some rapid metamorphosis.
Before our eyes, in no more than a few seconds, Nunnly's body was transformed into a shriveled, dark mass, like a fallen plum that has rotted and dried in the sun. Anotine leaped to her feet and backed away from it.
"What kind of miracle is this?" she asked as if accusing me of some evil.
I shook my head but could not speak, and watched helplessly as she walked away to where Brisden was sitting. At the worst, I never expected an outcome so horrific, but I should have. This fruit of the memory world was not the fruit of paradise, but in its dripping pulp, its core, its very seeds, it was a beautiful symbolic mask for one of Below's million nightmares.
I sat there, trying to remember Nunnly, but I couldn't. What remained of him bore absolutely no resemblance to anything human, save for the fact that it was clothed in a shirt and trousers. All that came back to me was the image of a wisp of cigarette smoke. I left the mess where it lay and went over to the bench at the base of the tree, where the others sat. Brisden, eyes wide and perspiring like mad, was jawing away at a remarkable rate as if coming to some crescendo, and Anotine sat with her face covered by her left hand.