"I think I do."
"Watch, then. Watch the water. But I have to warn you, it's already too late for me to let you go."
So he watches the lake as it catches whatever faint lights are available to it; close inshore, it seems to be stirring as the unseen rocks just below its surface warp and change the patterns with their mass. It flexes and shines like enchanted oil, a magic mirror onto a world of madness.
Exhaustion, he tells himself. Exhilaration. That's all it is.
She says, "Who sent you to me?"
"Nobody. I followed a woman who said she knew you."
"How did you meet?"
"What?" He hasn't fully understood the question, simple though it is; he's being distracted by shapes and shadows that seem to be forming under the water.
"Can you see anything in the lake?"
"No. Just reflections."
"Try for a little longer. And then I'll tell you what I can see, How did you come to be talking about me?"
"I put out a message for you, on the radio. She heard it and called in."
"What did she look like?"
"Taller than you, dark…"
His voice trails away.
"You've seen something?
"No."
"Then close your eyes, and just listen. I'll describe it for you."
He closes his eyes, and she begins to tell him; she begins to show him her world through the eyes of the Rusalka.
She describes how the first of the figures rises from the water and stands a little way offshore, starlit and cadaverous and with water sluicing from it. The second rises as a dark female form beside this. Both are like thin shells of hard matter around an infinity of darkness and stars; there's no glint or glow to suggest whether they have eyes, or pearls for eyes, or anything at all.
Pavel's eyes flicker open for a moment. He sees only the surface of the water, undisturbed.
"Did she drive a big car?" Alina says. "A car like a truck?"
"No… I don't…"
He screws his eyes shut again. Against all reason he wishes that he could see what she's describing, because to see would be to enter her world completely.
Others rising from the water; an old man, three young, straight wraiths, a couple of children, a carpenter… and then from out beyond them come a number of stags, a few cats and dogs, birds popping up and trying to unfold their sodden wings without success and without any kind of sound at all. They face inward in a half circle, an audience of the dead summoned for a performance of the living.
And of all this, Pavel sees nothing.
"You've made such a long journey," she says. "Now there's only one last step to take. Can you manage it alone?"
He opens his eyes, then, and looks down at her. The face that he knows so well is now just angles and planes in darkness, all expression lost; there's little to tell between the girl on the shore and the creatures that she imagines to be in the lake. He tries to read sympathy there, he tries to read encouragement; but these are hopes rather than solid certainties, where the only real certainty is that she's probably much too far-gone in her madness for him ever to be able to carry her home.
He'd hoped that he might somehow be able to take her back. Or at the very least, for the two of them to find some corner where they could build a kind of happiness. But he knows now that this can never be.
She pushes him, taking him by surprise, and he stumbles and loses his footing on the bank. When he hits the water he almost falls, but then he manages to get his balance on the lakebed. The water is surprisingly cold, soaking into his clothes and making them heavy. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and turns back to face Alina; she hasn't moved.
"What was that for?" he says.
"You want to be with me," she says. "I'm showing you the way."
He takes a step toward the shore, but something catches at him under the waterline and he falls. plunging face first into the water, For a moment he's completely submerged, and as the water closes over his head the cold penetrates the rest of his clothes with a shock that feels as if it will stop his heart.
There are weeds down here, and he's tangled in amongst them. They waft at him, they stroke him, they hold him in a grip like a dead man's hands. Now he's afraid. He pulls at the weeds and feels some of them tearing, but others are tightening in the same move.
Already, the breath is beginning to leave him.
It's strange; he finds that he's starting to experience flash-memories and scenes from his childhood as he tries to fight his way back to the surface. It's only inches away, but even inches can be fatal. The dizziness and the agony in his lungs begin to recede as the memories become more and more clear, until he's being hoisted up onto his father's shoulder as they walk along the sands…
Which coincides with him coming up out of the water, ripping free and gasping for air.
Alina is still waiting on the shore.
He'd hoped they could be together. But he's lost her finally now, and he knows it. He'd even have entered her insanity, if he could have done it and there had been no other way… but even this has been barred to him.
"Help him, children," Alina says.
And suddenly there are hands on him, instantly plunging him back under so that the next breath that he takes is no breath at all.
THIRTY-FIVE
"It's done," Ted Hammond said, "but don't look at me. I only passed the spanners and fiddled with the radio." He was looking red eyed and somewhat hung over, but even so this was the best shape that Diane had seen him in for a while. She'd always liked Ted, from Day One; and if she'd been unconsciously avoiding him of late… well, it was only that she hardly knew where to begin.
She glanced back at the Toyota, which was standing on the verge outside the workshop, and said, "Thanks, but I really need to see Pete, first."
"Pete's out on a job," Ted said. "Somebody ran a car into the lake last night. He's gone to winch it out. If you want to drop by later on…"
"It could be urgent," she said. "Can you tell me where I'll find him?"
So Ted shrugged, and told her. All she needed to do would be to drive south on the lakeside road until she came to a wagon train of emergency vehicles, about five miles down. The police were there, the forestry people were there, possibly a TV crew as well; although why there should be so much interest in a routine wreck, Ted couldn't say.
Ted got the Toyota's keys and walked out to the vehicle with her. Chuck and Bob, who'd come bounding up to say hello when she'd arrived, had wandered off and were now mooching around the verge looking for something to piss on.
Ted said, "I'm glad you called by. Gives me a chance to say thanks."
"For what?"
"For coming to the funeral. It was appreciated, even though I wasn't in much of a state to say so at the time."
"Nobody's been expecting thanks. But if it isn't a stupid question, how've you been feeling?"
"I'm getting by," he said. "That's about as much as you can hope for, really."
She got into the car, and closed the door. The side window was already open. Even after only one day in the Zodiac, the switch back to the high cab made her feel momentarily strange.
She said, "Thanks, Ted."
"Pleasure," Hammond said. "And, look, I'm sorry I've taken so long to get anything done about the Princess. I've got no excuses for it. If you still want me to handle the sale, I'm happy to go ahead."
"Excuses?" Diane said. "Ted, I've never even thought about it that way. I juggled the books, moved some money around between the accounts. It wasn't any problem."
"So Dizzy keeps his boat?"
"Until next year. It'll stay in the boat house and it won't see daylight, and next year I'll go through all the same arguments again."
"Well, the police gave me back the boat house key. Want me to dig it out now?"