Last bit of the 07 Nano

The lady kept very still and silent in her corner of darkness. It was at least three floors below ground, yet a steady little breeze had risen in the dark several minutes ago. There could be some ventilation grilles, but she didn’t think so, not without some light filtering through the grilles into the room.

And this wind was no normal wind. It sought her out and found her easily, curling and ruffling over her face and dress. The lady felt unseen fingers brush her cheek with unusual gentleness and affection.

‘Come out, if you please,’ she said, keeping her voice low.

The wind dropped for a moment, and died altogether when footsteps were heard on a stairs somewhere in the dark. The lady turned her head towards the sound in an effort to see. A chink of light appeared, outlining a pair of long thin legs on the stairs.

‘Lady Nyamph,’ said a familiar voice jovially. ‘Doing well, I hope?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Alpha.’ The wind nudged her arm like a dog, but she ignored it.

‘Perhaps you would care to join me in my rooms above?’

‘And what will I have to pay?’

‘Nothing, my dear.’ The legs stepped the rest of the way down the stairs. A long thin face peered at her out of the light.

‘I won’t co-operate with you, you know,’ she said flatly as the man approached her.

Alpha sighed and chuckled wearily. ‘I know, but won’t do any harm to try eh? And the boy has agreed to work with us.’

‘What have you done to the hostage?’

‘No, the hostage doesn’t know. He isn’t needed right now. I meant Art, of course. You know we always meant Art all this time.’

‘Not the girl.’

‘Oh no, she’s useless as she is. We’re using her to get to her father, as you well know. Stop playing these mind games, Nyamph. We know what you want.’

‘Well what can I do?’ she muttered, getting to her feet.

‘By listening to us, for a start. You’re very confused, my dear.’

‘I’ll listen,’ she said, pulling her hand out of Alpha’s clasp, ‘but confused? Oh no, don’t think you can get that past me.’

‘Ah, odd ideas you have then.’ Alpha bowed and escorted her up the stairs.

The wind followed behind, touching the hem of her dress, slipping silently along her hair and generally making its presence known to her in a reassuring way. She was glad of it, though upon reflection, she realized that someone would have to send him for the wind to get here. Who had the foresight to send the wind here?

‘Ah, here we are.’ Alpha pushed open the large double doors and gestured her in.

She stepped through, registering the smells of polished wood and a fire burning. Her eyes went at once to Art and Iris. The boy turned away, scowling. It didn’t seem like Art – but who knew? And she was partly at fault, she knew, and the boy was getting increasingly impatient and frustrated with her.
‘Here, my lady,’ Omega greeted her, pulling her over to the chair beside him.

She took a seat and waited for him to speak, fixing a quizzical expression on her face to hide her other thoughts. The wind stayed behind her, as slow and docile as a sleeping animal.

‘You are aware of the reason we brought you here?’ Omega continued.

‘Of course.’

‘Well, what do you have to say now?’

‘I won’t give in,’ she replied grimly. ‘Not at all.’

‘Even if it means the death of these two, or the girl’s father, or the hostage?’

‘You are threatening me,’ the lady stated quietly. ‘Why resort to this, Sept?’

‘And why do you not co-operate with us now?’

‘What you have done, and plan to do, are not what I would like to be involved in.’

‘Well you were part of the creation of it.’

‘I thought it would be good,’ the lady said proudly. ‘I thought it would benefit people who would otherwise have not been born. I thought we would profit from the extra commerce and trade.’

‘True, true,’ Omega conceded. ‘But we’ve decided that all those things are of no importance now.’

‘You don’t understand what you’re doing, Sept,’ the lady said wearily. ‘Changing the reality of this world – the mother world itself – would have reverberations over everything.’

‘But we have figured out a way to deal with the consequences,’ Omega explained smoothly.

‘By kidnapping a scientist from one of the subsidiary worlds?’ The lady laughed scornfully into his face.

‘When will you see sense, my lady?’ Alpha spoke up sorrowfully. ‘I thought we had a great thing going.’

She gave him a withering look and turned her full attention back to Omega. The man’s eyes were watching the other parts of the room as though he could see something the others had not spotted.

‘Clever,’ he said.

The wind rose up behind the lady, rattling the chandelier above and causing the fire in the hearth to rise and glow brighter. The lady stood up, her hair and dress blowing wildly about her. The eldest Mr. Sept got up too, his hands twitching.

‘Clever,’ he repeated. This time he sounded much angrier than Art had ever him.

‘With the wind at my back and the sight of Titania!’ the lady shouted into the wind. Her voice hardly rose above the noise of the wind, which grew louder and louder as its intensity increased.

Omega held out a hand into the wind and shut his eyes. Tiny streams of lightning crackled and exploded in the wind, singeing the air in the room. Alpha leapt back and cowered behind the sofa as Theta pulled himself to his feet and stepped up beside Omega.

Art bent low over Iris, who had begun to fidget noiselessly. Rain splattered his back and face, and his eyes were watering in the fierce scouring wind. The lady and the two Mr. Septs had vanished in the wind, which was weaving clouds around them. As he squinted out of the corner of his eye, the wind began to swirl in an anti-clockwise direction with the three within as its center.

‘Get down, idiot!’ Alpha yanked at Art’s arm. ‘Get behind here.’

Art followed, pulling Iris along as best as he could. She cried out once and settled deeper into sleep. Alpha watched the spectacle from behind the safety of the sofa, cheering his two older selves on indiscriminately.

A new voice joined the other indistinct voices. It sounded like the crash of thunder, or the wind howling, or even the dance of raindrops on the roof. It was the voice of the storm at its full force, angry and wild.

‘Omega, you have done a great harm.’

Someone shouted into the wind, but because there was now a spinning vortex in the center of the room, the words were lost in the noise of other things spinning and whipping past.

‘Let them go.’

A fresh burst of electric sizzled outwards from the vortex. Art ducked instinctively, hearing Alpha cry out in surprise and the smell of burning hair joined the cry a few seconds later.

‘The boy?’ The voice sounded surprised, as though the speaker had been caught off-guard.

The wind dropped imperceptibly, and the speed of the vortex lessened and died. Art peered over the top of the sofa carefully, ready to avoid any untoward lightning.

Mr. Sept – there was only one now – had his arms spread wide open. He was laughing, but it was a cold, selfishly pleased sound. The man with the beard standing beside the lady was the storm, Art guessed, and he had his arm on the lady’s elbow. She inclined her head towards him and listened as he whispered into her ear urgently.

‘All right,’ the lady announced after a few long minutes. ‘We’ll trade.’

‘I see.’ Mr. Sept’s eyes glittered as he turned to look at Art. The boy remained where he was, frozen with dread and horror. ‘Art,’ Omega said, ‘come here.’

Alpha poked him painfully in the ribs and pulled Art up roughly. The boy lowered Iris gently to the floor and stumbled over to the three people.

‘The lady has decided to trade, Art,’ Mr. Sept said. ‘She has agreed to give you over in exchange for the girl and her father, with the hostage thrown in for free. What do you say then?’

Art met the lady’s cool eyes. She was angry with him; angry because he had sold her out earlier. He had promised to trust her and follow her, even against what Mr. Sept told him to do – he realized in a burst of understanding, standing before her with his life in her hands, that she had meant him all along to go against Mr. Sept at whatever cost. Something very much like regret crept into the anger, and his conscience was uneasy. It only made him angrier, because she had made him look like a fool.

‘Thank you,’ he merely said, bowing with exaggerated politeness.

‘You’re welcome.’ She nodded formally to him. The air froze between them.

Mr. Sept clapped his hands, smiling widely. ‘And now to business, shall we? Alpha?’

‘Yes, Omega,’ the young man said. He ran straight towards Omega and merged smoothly into him. Mr. Sept shook himself, whole again.

‘Ah, all the pieces together,’ he joked humorlessly. And then turning to Art, he added, ‘You did a good thing, boy. But we won’t need you to talk to the poor man now.’

‘Where shall I be going?’

Mr. Sept took his arm and steered him towards the doors. ‘Why, I’ll show you the labs, of course. And the mechanics of world creation – fascinating stuff, and you would undoubtedly thank me for this wonderful opportunity.’

He stopped abruptly before he reached the doors and glanced over his shoulder. The lady and the man had remained where they were, wordlessly watching Mr. Sept and the boy.

‘Can’t have them running loose, of course,’ Mr. Sept said as an afterthought. He flicked a hand in their direction.

There was a crash, and the air around the lady and man shimmered and danced with sparks. The sparks gathered and formed intricate patterns, combining into a shining cage after several moments. The lady nodded once, twice and looked away.

***
Mr. Sept smiled as he pushed open the only door of the room. The man had his back to it, but he knew it was the door all the same. The door was hidden, and appeared at different corners of the room every day.

‘Get up,’ Mr. Sept said, pushing the man over. ‘We need you now.’

‘I said no,’ the man replied quietly.

‘The boy’s gone back on his words. We’ll bring you up to meet your daughter now.’

The chair fell over loudly as the man stood up abruptly and backed into the opposite wall. He had an old lighter in his hand.

‘A lighter?’ Mr. Sept knocked it out of the man’s trembling hand and grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t be stupid, man. Your daughter’s waiting.’

‘I suppose she’s locked in a room or something, right?’ Mr. Lang wrenched his arm out of the other man’s grip and edged to the other end of the room.

‘No, she’s not,’ Mr. Sept said, losing patience. ‘Come on, man. We’re giving you what you want, meeting that damned daughter you keep raving about. Now!’

‘Why is she with you?’

‘Do you really need to know that?’ Mr. Sept smirked. ‘I won’t tell, it’s not necessary for you to know. Come now, before I lose my patience.’

‘You’re Theta, aren’t you?’ Mr. Lang fought back the arm that swung threateningly past his face.

‘Quite right.’ Mr. Sept aimed another blow to the man’s back, but the man dodged and headed for the door.

‘What has the boy done?’

‘Done? Besides giving you and your daughter up to us? Oh, nothing much.’

The man winced as Mr. Sept’s foot connected with his knee.

‘What about the lady?’ he shouted, dodging another punch.

‘Ah, that was her business.’ Mr. Sept snarled and grabbed the man’s shirt.

There was an unexpected pause. Both men stared at each other over the other’s arms. Mr. Lang stepped back slowly after a few seconds, his hand going to his side.

‘Is that it?’ he whispered, feeling the blood wet his shirt.

‘All there is.’ Mr. Sept grabbed the man’s shoulder and steered him to the door.

The corridors were empty, without any sign of the guards or Mac. Mr. Lang kept his head down on the way up, past rooms with mysterious activity within, and voices drifting past, and lights flickering on and off. The place put him in mind of a hospital. The blood seeped down his side, a few drops landing on the floor as they hurried up more floors.

The wound was not deep; Mr. Sept had merely done that to gain an advantage, to hurt him as a warning. It could have been avoided, maybe, but then he didn’t know what to do then, with the thought that they had killed Emily –

And then they were through the doors, into a room eerily lit with the writhing sparks of a cage with two people in it. Mr. Lang recognized one of them as the lady, but the other was a man. Emily –

The girl lay peacefully asleep on the sofa, an arm obscuring her face. Mr. Sept threw the man down beside the sofa and strode over to the cage.

‘Emily,’ Mr. Lang whispered, pushing the arm off her face, ‘wake up. Emily.’ He shook her gently. The girl remained asleep.

‘What is it?’ the lady said, watching Mr. Sept approached the cage. ‘I thought you were whole.’

‘Not quite,’ Mr. Sept said, touching a fingertip to the cage.

‘Why is the man here?’ the man beside the Dream Lady asked sharply.

‘Mr. Storm.’ Mr. Sept sighed and grinned. ‘How fortunate we are to have you as a guest.’ He glanced over his shoulder to the man and Iris. ‘I suppose we’re letting them have a nice little reunion before everything is tidied up.’

‘You’re going to kill them.’ The lady reached a hand through the sparks and grabbed hold of Mr. Sept’s collar.

Theta stepped back, pulling away the lady’s hand as though it was something repulsive. ‘Oh I don’t know. We might have to.’

***
Mac felt the creatures on his back, but before he had time to react, someone had flung a blindfold over his eyes. A muzzle was shoved roughly over his mouth and nose, and several of those creatures went to work on his legs.

And then there was just silence. Mac felt the creatures slide off his back and flank, and the sounds of someone speaking strangely. A tune played on a flute drifted down to him, as though the flutist was somewhere underwater. He felt the creatures shift and move uneasily around him.

‘Lay down your weapons!’ someone shouted.

A few creatures closest to Mac’s ears snickered; he heard the sounds of knives and several clicks. Someone very small climbed behind his ears and grabbed the fur there painfully.

‘Lay down your weapons!’ the same voice shouted.

More clicks, and something cold and hard brushed against Mac’s legs. He lay on his side, unable to see or hear. The creatures around him were moving quickly now, pushing him to the side of the lane under the hedges.

‘Listen!’ a new voice called. It sounded like a lady. ‘Listen!’

The flute began to play again, a livelier, merrier tune than the first one.

Titania gazed down the lane at the large group of glams disguised as recon elves. They had tied up the cat and shoved him under the hedge. Typical idiots, she thought, yanking her sleeves over her elbows. They never do learn to use another’s strength to their advantage, do they? One bat of the paw from Mac would have knocked out about five of the elves.

The tune picked up speed, climbing higher and higher notes. Several glams nearest to the front clapped their hands to their ears, evidently affected by the tune. A few others came forward to take their place, changing shape into their original forms.

‘A bit higher,’ the Queen muttered to the flutist.

The elf nodded, and brought the tune higher, until the sound was beyond the range of human hearing. A few of the weaker glams dropped their knives and dashed to the back, where they would undoubtedly be doubled over in pain.

The notes climbed higher, and higher, and higher – the glams began to waver, their shapes blurring and distorting as though they were vibrating at high speed. Cries could be heard from them; thin desperate cries begging the Queen to forgive them and stop the noise.

Behind his blindfold, Mac went cross-eyed and hoped fervently that his eardrums were not being perforated by the tune.

‘A little lower,’ Titania said.

The notes dropped slightly, but half the glams were already retching and lying on their backs. The remaining half staggered about blindly, colliding into each other and walking into the hedges.

‘What now?’ Oberon said.

‘Isolate the glams,’ she replied.

The elves moved quickly past her, forming ranks and taking up their positions efficiently. A few went to drag the cat to a safe distance, while some others stalked behind the hedges and pushed out the glams hiding in there. Within minutes the place was swarming with glams and elves, while Oberon and Titania watched and waited.

And in another few more minutes, there was nothing in the lane, not even a trace of cat hair.

‘A dream world, like you said,’ Oberon said, nodding in satisfaction. ‘I pity the poor dreamer who had to witness this scene.’

‘Oh I wouldn’t know, dear,’ Titania laughed, walking through the hedges as though they didn’t exist. ‘People are often odder than we give them credit for.’

And in another few more moments, there was no one there.

The lane went back to its original state, the air still and heavy in the evening heat. Somewhere between the startling green hills in the blue distance, the sun began to set.

***
Iris was dreaming.

She had not dreamt of any of these places and people before – if she had, she knew she would have remembered. How could you explain the presence of a flying machine, so large and heavy, and yet it was able to get up into the sky and take passengers across continents and oceans? And who was this lady who kept turning up, again and again, a lady who looked a bit like her, who said she was her mother, who called her Emily, but yet a person she had never met before?

Where was Art? Was he nearby? She had thought that he was beside her a while ago, but now there was a different person there, someone who was stroking her hair with unaccustomed gentleness –

Did the Dream Lady manage to rescue the poor man from wherever he was? And where was Mr. Sept?

Mr. Lang held the girl and stared morosely at the cage of sparks. Theta had left them fifteen minutes ago, presumably to speak to Omega and Alpha. He didn’t know where Mr. Sept had gone to…no, he did. He was going to die. Somehow the thought didn’t worry him as much as he had thought before.

The lady was beckoning him over now. The other man in the cage with her had vanished inexplicably, and there was now a mysterious wind banging and rushing against the sparks, sending them leaping into the air and dispersing more frequently and fiercely than they had before.

‘Mr. Lang,’ the lady hissed, ‘we need you.’

The man got up reluctantly and dragged his feet to the cage. The wind was threatening to break past the sparks now, but something was clearly holding it back. The lady slid a hand through the lines of sparks to his. He took it unthinkingly.

And then he knew – he didn’t understand, exactly – but he knew. It felt as though he was falling into his own head, his own thoughts, where there was no beginning or end; images and memories slipped past one by one, each one as lucid and vivid as the next. And then he realized that he was not looking at his own memories, but the memories of other people – and they were strange and yet familiar to him. He saw worlds collapsing into themselves, people disappearing where they were, the land ending where it shouldn’t, families torn apart – and now the memories were going past too quickly for him to register each one individually, but he grasped that they had all the same purpose: to show him the ending and breaking of the worlds Mr. Sept had created.
And beneath these images and sounds were the same emotions – fear, anger, confusion, indignation. One thought pushed itself to the fore, drowning the emotions that were beginning to overwhelm him: Stop the boy.

The memories slowed down and speedily trickled into oblivion. Mr. Lang uttered a soft gasp and dropped the lady’s hand.

‘Now do you see?’ she said sadly.

‘Yes,’ he said drunkenly. ‘I do.’

‘Stop the boy,’ she urged. ‘Please.’

‘But Emily – ‘

‘Emily will not be safe if you do not stop the boy!’

‘I will.’ Mr. Lang shuffled to the door, his head down. ‘I will.’

***
‘And that is the machine to give the world a frame,’ Mr. Sept explained. He pointed towards a rather small machine in the unremarkable shape of a cube, with a large black screen taking up one of its sides.

‘And that one,’ the man continued, pointing towards a very large machine under a canvas cover, ‘is where we decide which kinds of people should be included in which worlds. We use this to test our worlds – you can call it a hypothesis machine of sorts – and it saves us the risk and waste of creating a world that will destroy itself within an insubstantial period of time.’

‘Do you create worlds in the present, or right from their beginnings?’ Art leaned over the rail to get a closer look at the lab below.

‘Right from the beginning. And right to the end.’ Mr. Sept clapped his hands and whistled.

Two men emerged from a door and stood in the middle of the lab, looking up at Mr. Sept for the order. One of them had powder down his front; the other was bent over in a hunch, his hand nervously fidgeting in his pocket.

‘Show us how the hypothesis machine works, boys!’

Twilight spork

In pictures.








This be the occupation of my free time.

Nano 16

The man raised his head and squinted in the bright light. Then he reeled back from the cat washing itself calmly in the middle of the room as though he was afraid of it.

‘Relax,’ the cat said coolly from under its left hind leg, ‘I’m here. The girl’s got a message for you.’

The man clutched the back of the chair and stood up shakily. He nodded a few times, an uncertain smile growing on his pale face. ‘What did she say?’ he said hoarsely.

‘Not really the girl, mind you, since it took me a hard time to convince her that you’re her dad.’ The cat put its leg down and began washing its ears. ‘But the lady did understand, and she sent a message.’

‘Well what did she say?’

‘She said to make you wait here. Stick it out until she gets to you, or one of the kids manages to meet you. Do not – and she stressed on this – give in to what they want, because you’ll lose however you look at it.’

The man sagged and sat down on the floor. He rubbed his face with both hands, as though his despair was too much to bear mentally. The cat padded over to him and placed a paw on his knee.

‘Look, I know it’s been a long time,’ the cat reasoned, ‘but a few more days will be enough, she said. She’s been having problems herself, what with the kids not believing in her and the old man getting in the way, but believe me, she’s doing the best she can. Stick it out here, old guy, and she’ll be here in time to bust you out.’

‘True,’ the man agreed gloomily, ‘but it’s really humiliating when they start shouting at me. And they’ve started using threats.’ He sighed, clearly upset with his situation.

‘There’s something, though,’ the cat ventured cautiously, ‘that I heard on the way to the girl. The glams…I think they’re working for them.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ the man said sharply. ‘I thought you said that the glams have always been independent people, except that they made that deal with the Queen decades ago for their own protection.’

‘Weeell…’ The cat stretched its front and back legs. ‘So they did, but what you have to know, is that the glams are those you would call a rather “outside” group of people among the Little People. They say they’re loyal to the Queen – true – but if ever they get a chance to earn a little bit for their own, they’ll jump quick as you please to the chance before anyone hears of it, believe me.’

‘So…the glams are on their side too?’ The man buried his face in his hands. ‘And is she safe?’

‘She’s escaped them, or lost them somehow. It was because of the lady, I reckon. But the glams are still after her…and there were two men…’

‘This is stupid!’ the man burst out. ‘Can’t I do anything besides waiting here uselessly for someone to rescue me? Don’t you know the way out or something? I can’t sit here and wait till I hear of – of – something unfortunate, or they do something bad to her!’

‘I am trying,’ the cat said soothingly, ‘and so are the others. The girl could have asked her friend for help, but he’s no good, too young and inexperienced. She’s with the other boy they’re after, but even he’s decided to trust the lady and go along with her plans.’

‘Do you think…there’s any chance…?’

The question hung in the awkward pause, more questions crowding in the space of unspoken words; questions which would be too horrible to think of or even speak. The cat met the man’s fearful eyes steadily and said nothing. Perhaps this was one of the times when silence was better than answers, or even vague allusions and comforting words.

‘I guess I’ll just have to wait,’ the man muttered, climbing back onto his chair. ‘I’ll wait; I’ll stick it out here, and hope that they’ll come.’

‘They will,’ the cat said. He sounded confident and sure, but he didn’t meet the man’s eyes as he said it.

There was another pause, a longer and less awkward one this time, during which the man stared into space and the cat commenced its washing. Presently the man got up and fetched a plate and a glass of milk from the shelf running along the opposite wall. The cat watched as he poured the milk into the plate and set it on the floor.

‘Thank you.’ A pink tongue began lapping at the milk hungrily. The man buried his fingers in the cat’s warm fur and scratched its head and ears absently.

‘I could give them what they want, you know,’ the man said when the cat had finished the milk.

Green eyes glared at him balefully as the cat licked its paw and went to work on its face. The man did not notice the look, because if he had, he would not have continued with, ‘I could bargain with them…maybe they’ll let me have Emily in exchange for what I’ll tell them?’

The cat growled, low. The man took his fingers away in surprise.

‘Are you stupid?’ The cat arched its back and walked in a circle round the man. ‘They won’t give you anything you ask until they have what they want.’

‘That’s what I said,’ the man said uncertainly.

‘What they want is to have you working with them permanently! Do you think they’ll let you have your daughter back? If Emily comes back to you, that would mean that you won’t be working for them, you see. She’s an obstacle to them, something to be removed with minimum fuss in the shortest time possible. And then they’ll have you in their grip, and they won’t let you go, believe me. They’re doing it right now,’ the cat finished, looking as severe as a cat could.

‘But – but maybe – ‘ the man began desperately.

‘Don’t say anything about this anymore,’ the cat cut through his words. ‘I warn you. If they hear what you were thinking, they’d do much worse than removing the girl from you. They’re capable of it, and you know it. Look what they’ve done to her – she thinks her father is Langdon, not you! Don’t you get it? She’s a whole new person.’

The man was silent, but he was beginning to rock back and forth as though in pain.

‘I know this is difficult,’ the cat said, in a gentler tone, ‘but nobody said it was going to be easy. Even you were shocked by what they did when you first came here. And the boy – well the boy escaped with sheer luck and some help from people, but even he’s in as much danger as the girl. If he believes in the lady, Emily will have to go along with it. It’s true that we don’t know what the lady is up to – but then again, she’s the Dream Lady, and nobody knows for sure about her plans at any given time anyway. It’s part of her nature, and right now, I’d say it’s a pretty smart thing to do, keeping quiet, because it’d confuse them. The kids would have to go with her whether they like it or not.’

‘But how do I know whether to trust her, Mac?’

‘I do,’ the cat replied stoutly. ‘Trust me. I have my instincts. When I first saw her, I knew she was going to be…well, not bad would be pretty accurate, because I don’t know about good. The old man though – that I’m worried about. I wonder what he’s going to do…’

‘Mac?’ the man whispered suddenly, lowering his head to look the cat in the eye. ‘Do you think she could be Emily’s mother?’

‘What?’ The cat was startled with the suggestion, even with its knowledge and understanding of what was going on.

‘I know it sounds stupid…but…well, you see, Emily’s mother didn’t die, not exactly.’ The man sighed and sat up. ‘She left us. Emily was very young then, too young to understand that her mother had left us. I…I told her that her mother was dead, because it’d be too hard for me to explain to her that her mother had just left…it’s stupid, I know, thinking this, but just for a moment, it sounded a lot like – like her mother.’

The cat watched the man for several seconds, during which the man’s eyes roved all over the room without seeming to take in what he was seeing, and his lips twitched as though he had lost control of them. The man seemed to be losing his mind, which wasn’t surprising, when you considered what they were putting him through every day…

Mac didn’t know sympathy, empathy, or even pity. Cats didn’t go in much for feelings…but Mac felt at that moment that he would very much like to help the man despite having most of the odds against him. It wasn’t what you would call compassion…or even kindness…Mac just saw it as a duty, a responsibility. Cats weren’t sentimental people after all.

‘I promise you that the girl will meet you,’ the cat said softly. ‘Just hang in there, Mr. Lang.’

And then the cat slipped through the bars of one of the walls, and within a few seconds he was a shadow moving silently along the empty passages.

The blindfolds were yanked off unceremoniously. Art squinted in the bright light of the room, his eyes watering in the sudden assault of light. He raised a hand and touched his face; all seemed to be working all right. Then he turned to his left and right. Iris was slumped on the sofa beside him, her eyes closed, a peaceful dreamy expression on her face.

‘You’re awake,’ said Mr. Sept.

Art looked up at the man opposite him, and went on staring.

There were three Mr. Septs sitting in different chairs ranged in a semicircle before him. Art studied each face to discern which he thought would be an illusion or someone in disguise to confuse him, but all three had the same expressions. And then he realized that the three of them had some minor differences from each other…they were all of different ages.

The one nearest to Art, who looked about twenty – judging by the smooth handsome young face – was evidently the youngest, and he leaned over and placed a hand on the arm on the sofa. Art recoiled and looked into the man’s searching eyes calmly.

‘What do you want?’ the boy said coldly.

‘An interesting young man, you are,’ the youngest Mr. Sept remarked, but he said it as though it was for the other Mr. Septs to hear, not Art. ‘Fascinating.’

‘Well what do you want?’ Art moved a little closer to Iris, who remained asleep or unconscious.

‘To know about you,’ said the Mr. Sept in the middle; he looked about forty. His voice was gruff and low, and sounded as though he was perpetually annoyed – or even angry – with everything in general. The look he had as he watched Art was one laden with dislike.

‘What?’ Art said, perplexed, turning to look at the middle Mr. Sept. The man looked back at him haughtily, with an undisguised sneer on his lined face.

‘To know about you,’ the last Mr. Sept repeated, but in softer tones. Art turned to him this time.

The last Mr. Sept was the one he met and knew, Art reckoned. The angry look in the eyes had softened to one of cynical enquiry, as though the man was waiting for you to do something harmful or offensive to him with no cause for it. There was something colder in the look too, suggesting that if there was any way to measure friendliness between him and the younger Mr. Sept, he would be the one with the knife in your side before you had a chance to react.

‘I’ve been with you for weeks,’ Art replied. He kept his eyes on the elderly man and waited for an answer.

He was angry, definitely. He had thought Mr. Sept was good, but he had been fooled…maybe he should have listened to Laurel before he left. She hadn’t wanted him to leave – but it was too late, too late now.

Iris tossed fretfully beside him and flung out an arm. He leaned back in time before her hand slapped him on the cheek. The youngest Mr. Sept laughed, more out of nastiness than amusement.

‘What do you want?’ Art asked, yet again.

They were testing him, he realized. They were waiting for his nerve to break, for him to start groveling to them on his knees, for him to beg. Well he wasn’t going to that – not yet – no, not at all. He would show them that he wasn’t a naïve young boy to be bullied and shoved about to do what they liked with him –

‘You do know that we are testing you,’ the middle Mr. Sept said.

‘But it’s for your own good,’ the oldest Mr. Sept continued.

‘For everyone’s good,’ the youngest Mr. Sept supplied promptly.

‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Art said carefully. ‘What – do – you – want?’

‘To see your reactions, your thoughts, your emotions,’ the middle Mr. Sept answered.

‘And why was I selected for this test?’

‘Because you were a suitable candidate – you had all the necessary characteristics we needed.’ The youngest Mr. Sept got up from his seat and began to pace around the circle of the other Mr. Septs and the sofa with Art and Iris.

‘And what are they?’

‘The fact that you were part of the lady’s plans was the main qualifying aspect for us to choose you, of course,’ the middle Mr. Sept said sardonically.

‘I – what?’

‘She chose you, so we decided to choose you too,’ the oldest Mr. Sept explained. ‘Not hard to get your head round that eh, boy?’

‘No – why did she choose me?’

‘Ah.’ The youngest Mr. Sept stopped beside Art and draped an arm along the back of the sofa. ‘That’s what we want to know too.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ the oldest Mr. Sept said. ‘She never told you anything, did she? She only told you to trust her, and you did, boy. Stupid, in a way, but I suppose you thought she was trying to rescue you.’

‘Rescue me from what? I wasn’t in any danger – ‘

‘Ah, but you were,’ the youngest Mr. Sept cut in, ‘you were in danger, but you didn’t quite realize it. You thought it was the girl all along, but you were in as much danger as she was. But you went along with the lady…why?’

‘I know her,’ Art said cautiously.

‘In your dreams, yes,’ the middle Mr. Sept laughed nastily. ‘Indeed.’

‘She is the Dream Lady.’ Art gave a look with the same intensity of dislike as the one the man was giving him.

‘Naturally.’ The middle Mr. Sept smirked and turned to the oldest, as though they had some unspoken agreement then and there that it was his turn to stop talking and let the other explain.

‘Do you really want to know why you are here, Art?’ the oldest Mr. Sept asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Even if it would mean that you have to let the girl go?’

‘What?’

‘I said: if we were to tell you why we want you and why you are here, we would see it necessary to put the girl…elsewhere.’

‘Why can’t she stay?’

‘We have our reasons, Art.’

‘Tell me then.’

The cold eyes stared him down, but Art was determined not to give in. Anger was growing somewhere amid the fear, but it was rising too slowly, and soon he would buckle under the strain and give in…

‘Art,’ the Mr. Sept he thought he knew said, ‘we’re doing this for your own good.’

‘No, tell me the real reason, Mr. Sept. I’m not stupid.’

‘He’s doing a good impression of it,’ the middle Mr. Sept rumbled meanly.

‘Listen to me, Art,’ the older Mr. Sept continued, waving away his younger self’s words, ‘the lady is not who you think she is. We think – ‘

Art laughed in his face, a short barking laugh that didn’t sound like him at all. He couldn’t help it, but it did achieve its desired effect. Mr. Sept’s expression grew noticeably colder, and for the first time, anger flicked on and off on the usually immovable face.

‘You don’t understand this, Art.’

‘I don’t, yes, but nobody’s telling me anything.’

‘When will you listen to us, Art?’

‘When it’s necessary.’

‘I suppose the death of a friend would make it necessary, yes?’ the youngest Mr. Sept piped up gaily.

‘No, you’re not taking her,’ Art retorted fiercely, grabbing hold of Iris’s arm.

The three Mr. Septs laughed: the youngest with the hearty laughter of youth, the middle with his jeering snigger and the oldest with a cold mirthless chuckle. They all sounded mean, however. It was laughter that clearly said You’re losing, give up now before you get hurt. But we wouldn’t mind supplying the hurt, you see?

‘I meant Jonas,’ the oldest Mr. Sept said, in the misleadingly gentle tone of voice one normally used when telling someone of the death of a friend or relative. ‘He makes a good hostage.’

‘He didn’t do anything wrong.’ Art released Iris, feeling the girl stir. If she woke up now, it might just make things worse. Iris didn’t believe in patience and listening to people…no, he didn’t think so; she believed in yelling and threatening people until they gave her what she wanted. It sounded similar to the way the three men were talking to him right now…

‘Wrong? Who said there has to be justice in what we do, boy?’

‘It’s – but he doesn’t have anything to do with this!’

‘Of course he does,’ the youngest Mr. Sept said lazily, ‘he’s the hostage we’re going to use to make you give in to us. And he would be very important to us when we speak to the girl, I believe.’

‘This is what you’ll do.’ Art crossed his arms and looked at each Mr. Sept with equal dislike. ‘And you wouldn’t care if you did anything wrong, because right and wrong don’t apply to you.’

‘Correct, Art,’ the eldest Mr. Sept said mildly. ‘Good. You’re beginning to get a grasp on things. And now, to business…’

And Art listened, and said little, and waited for the men to tell him more. All the while he was listening, he checked Iris from time to time, to make sure that she was still asleep. She might have been drugged, but he wasn’t sure, and maybe it was for the best.

And he listened, and waited. It was all he could do.

And several floors down in his room, Mr. Lang watched the white walls and waited for the cat, or the lady, or even his daughter to find him.

And further down, in what would be called the cellars, the lady waited in the darkness. She was used to this; it had all been waiting since things went wrong. It was all just a matter of time – and maybe space and sheer will from everyone involved – before things could be put right to their proper order and places.

Mac, meanwhile, stalked the lanes in an unknown world and paused. Then he slid into the space under the hedges and went still, his ears and eyes alert for any sign of movement. He was waiting. The glams would be here soon, and when they did, he would be waiting.

The Queen stared intently at the bowl of black ink in the table before her. The surface was smooth, undisturbed by any wind or stray insect. She continued staring at it for some time, but there must have been something in the ink, because she muttered and frowned now and again.

‘My lady,’ one of the handmaidens said quietly, coming up to the Queen with her head bent apologetically, ‘the King has summoned you to meet him now.’

‘Is that so?’ The Queen waved away the handmaiden, irritated. Evidently the sight – or could it be sound? – she saw in the ink had affected her.

‘My lady…’ the handmaiden said uncertainly.

‘No, Eolis, tell him that I’m busy,’ the Queen snapped with uncharacteristic brusqueness. ‘I will see him later.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ The handmaiden curtsied and scurried away, unpleasantly surprised with the Queen’s cold manner.

The door to the observatory banged open dramatically half an hour later. A man strode into the room, long cloak dragging its hem on the draughty stone floor. He paused halfway across the room with a bemused expression on his face. The Queen had turned her back on him pointedly the moment he entered the room. He cleared his throat politely – probably to indicate the presence of his throat, not that he was in any way cold – and straightened his square glasses.

‘Titania, darling?’ he said hesitantly.

‘Hasn’t Eolis told you that I would see you later?’ the Queen replied coldly. She circled the table, all the while watching the ink in the bowl.

‘She did.’ The man shrugged and approached the table at a safe distance.

Titania raised her head, and then her eyebrows. She waited for the man to speak with her head on one side. She clearly was in no mood to listen to him or tolerate any of his caprices. The tilt of the head confirmed his suspicions.

‘I – I had some news – ‘

‘Is it about the glams, Oberon?’

‘Ah yes, of course, how very astute of you – ‘

‘The cat is watching out for them. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.’

‘The cat, you mean?’

‘Yes, Oberon. A strange creature, one with human intelligence…’

‘So, erm, why is he involved in this?’

‘He’s doing it for the man, but does he know what might happen – ‘

‘Perhaps I can send some of the recon elves to check on him?’

There was a pause, but it was a thoughtful one. Titania stared into the space several inches above her husband’s shoulder, a slow smile spreading across her face.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘of course…’

‘Titania, love?’

‘The boy still has the Demand to fulfill, but it’s my right to ask him for anything, and that would mean that I can ask him for…’

Oberon watched as the Queen seemed to glide across the room to the floor-length windows facing north. Titania leant over the ledge and looked down at the sheer drop to the ocean below, where waved crashed and hurled themselves on the rocks in the storm. Inside the observatory, all was quiet and still. It was amazing what reinforced glass panes could keep out, besides the occasional gull and the little bits that it kindly leaves to mark its presence, of course.

‘Titania?’ he said, edging over to the windows to her.

‘Thank you, Oberon,’ she said graciously. For just a fraction of a moment, her eyes glowed greenish-gold. Oberon took a step back, still uncertain.

‘Where is the cat then?’

‘He’s in…’ Titania paused to look out the window again, but this time her eyes were fixed on the gray sky with the stormy clouds mirroring the sea. She sighed and drew a circle on the glass with the tip of a finger. ‘Do you remember those dream worlds we discovered a few years ago – those worlds that only exist to fool you, or to form a bridge between the real ones?’

‘Yes, of course. I was in one myself for a month.’

‘The cat’s there. Can your elves get to him immediately?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Oberon nodded, straightening his glasses again. ‘Right away, dear.’

Titania watched him leave the room, and then she turned back to Eolis. The handmaiden hurried towards her, wary of any angry words from her lady.

‘Eolis,’ the Queen said sweetly, ‘look into the bowl for a minute, will you? And tell me what you see, please.’

Eolis did as she was told. When the minute was up, she continued staring into the black ink unblinkingly in a sort of fascinated horror. Titania took note of the expression on the girl’s face and shrugged.

‘Well, what do you see?’

‘I see…’ Eolis gulped a few times, as though she was trying not to scream. ‘I see…’

‘Go on,’ the Queen urged patiently.

‘I see…well, worlds collapsing and being destroyed. And someone is manipulating energy, lots of it, and creating new worlds. But people are being displaced, left in places they should never be and – and – these new worlds seem…wrong…somehow. And then there’s a girl, and a lady I think I’ve seen before, a young man trying to save himself – ‘

‘Good.’ Titania pulled the horrified Eolis away from the bowl.

‘It’s terrible,’ Eolis sniffed. She wiped her eyes on the corner of her sleeve and sighed heavily. ‘Who is this person doing these terrible things?’

‘Do you think it’s just one person?’ the Queen mused.

‘You mean there’s more than one?’ Eolis gasped.

‘No no, I think there are a few people doing these things together, working in harmony, so to speak.’

‘Do you have any idea who they might be?’

Titania looked into the fearful wide eyes of the girl and wondered about it. No, nobody knew for sure. But Nyamph had had some idea, hadn’t she; it was she, Titania, who had not thought to ask because she was too prejudiced to see that Nyamph could have been right all this time…

‘No, I don’t,’ Titania replied softly. ‘But I know someone who does.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘She,’ Titania corrected. ‘She is in danger, though. I must go to her. Immediately.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait for the King, my lady?’

‘He’d be busy,’ Titania said vaguely, going over to the windows again. ‘Mind the doors, Eolis.’

The glass panes slid apart, and the rain and wind howled and raged into the observatory. Titania climbed onto the wide ledge – she had built it specifically for this purpose – and held her arms out into the storm. The wind caught her dress and threatened to drag her over and fling her on the rocks below. She murmured a few words, and the wind dropped noticeably in a sort of cocoon around her. The rain seemed to form a soft shimmering shell around her, fragile and silver. Titania turned to give one last reassuring look to Eolis, who had backed against the door to prevent the wind from pulling her to the window, before stepping out onto thin air.

‘This I give to thee,’ Titania spoke into the storm, stepping deliberately up the stairs that materialized under her feet at every step. ‘The gift that I give to thee…’

A semblance of a face swirled and grew in the clouds, where the lightning flashed most frequently and blindingly. A mouth opened in the darkest part, and eyes seemed to roam over the sea and observatory as though the face in the clouds was searching for someone. The gaze halted when it found Titania ascending the rain stair upwards into the clouds.

‘What is it?’ the voice of the storm spoke. A thunder clap drowned out all other sounds in the air and at sea.

‘This I give to thee,’ Titania said, holding out one hand to the face. The other hand was stretched towards the observatory, where a thin glowing line reached from within the room and separated to bury itself in the tips of her fingers.

‘Do you think I will be tempted with your magic?’ the voice thundered.

‘No, I do not think that.’ Titania smiled. ‘But I do know what you want.’

‘Storms do not have desires,’ the voice rumbled. But it sounded slightly uncertain this time.

‘Are you sure?’ The smile grew wider, surer. Titania stepped a few more paces up the stair. Heat and light shimmered and crackled around her, but she was safe in the cocoon of rain.

‘Are you testing me, Lady Titania?’ The eyes in the storm narrowed.

‘Perhaps.’ Titania held her hand up higher. ‘But you have to admit that things which can think for themselves and have the capacity to feel usually do have desires.’

‘I’m an elemental!’ the voice roared. Lightning sizzled across the sky and threatened to pierce through the Queen’s protective cocoon, but the electrical charges were discharged in snaking golden lines all over the surface of the cocoon.

‘I know,’ the Queen continued calmly, ‘and you would still be, if you had not fallen in love with a girl.’

‘I do not know what you mean.’ The face began to swirl angrily in the clouds, the features distorting and dispersing in the sudden sharp wind. A hurricane was brewing, with Titania in the center of it.

‘You were in love with the Dream Lady,’ Titania finished, stepping onto the last step of the rain stair. She brought the other hand to clasp the one held out to the face. ‘And perhaps you still are. She is in trouble, and needs help from others who would not normally pay attention to her. Do you hear me?’

There was a sort of pause in the storm, and the wind died down marginally. The face arranged itself into a clearer shape, and this time Titania could discern a shape growing within the black masses of the clouds. A gap appeared between the clouds, showing the blue sky behind it, but it closed as a figure emerged and walked towards the rain stair. The face slowly faded and vanished.

‘Ah, Lady Titania,’ said the man. He held out a hand to her. She took it and guided him onto the stair graciously.

‘So glad you could speak to me,’ she said.

‘Of course.’ The man nodded, and gave her a shrewd look. ‘What is it you want? Is Lady Nyamph in trouble?’

‘Yes, she is. I suppose it is partly my fault, but now I feel it is my duty to put things right. She came to ask me for my help before – indirectly, of course – but I turned her away. I am sorry for that, because I see now that she had bigger plans on her mind. I can’t say where she is now…but she does need your help.’

‘What can I do?’ the man said fretfully. ‘I’m just an elemental in the shape of someone who looks like a man. The gods laugh at me, Titania.’

‘They laugh at Nyamph too,’ Titania said immovably. ‘But does she heed their laughter and contempt? No, and you have to admire her for that. She doesn’t have it easy, having to deal with humans and their selfish desires, but now she’s in danger for trying to help them, and with not so much of a thank you in the future.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ the man said, stroking his ragged beard.

‘Find her,’ Titania said simply. ‘You’re an element – the wind and rain and storm. You will be able to enter places people will die trying to get into, and you will not be detected or hurt. Whoever who has her captive is underestimating her, I think. For who would capture dreams and tie them up like an animal?’

‘I see your point.’ The man nodded briefly. ‘And so I shall do it.’

‘Thank you.’ Lady Titania dropped into a curtsy.

The man smiled at her, all hostility gone. Titania was known for her haughty air, even with the gods, and a curtsy was a compliment indeed.

‘I shall go immediately,’ the man promised. And then he walked back into the clouds – the gap appeared momentarily – and he was gone.

Titania descended the rain stair and onto the wet ledge. The cocoon dissolved around her, water pouring into the observatory. Eolis hurried forward with towels. Outside, the storm subsided gradually and the clouds began to break.

‘I can’t tell what will happen,’ the Queen said as the handmaiden helped her to dry off.

Eolis nodded in agreement. ‘Will it be possible futures again?’

‘Yes.’ The Queen sighed and shut the windows. ‘And now we wait.’

Art held Iris’s head in his arms and said nothing.

The girl was still asleep, deep in some dream that made her whimper and moan in pain. She had been threshing round in her sleep an hour ago, and had only stopped when Art yelled at one of the Mr. Septs to stop doing whatever he was doing on her mind.

He knew the three Mr. Septs now…Alpha was the youngest, who was vain and arrogant. Theta was the middle one, nasty and acidic. The eldest one was the Mr. Sept he knew: Omega, the one with the most wisdom and understanding, and yet at the same time, he was the coldest and hardest to read.

They had prodded him, wheedled, and in the case of Theta, yelled abuses at him. Art had sat where he was, cradling Iris’s head, feeling the clammy forehead and wiping the perspiration off when she got too agitated. She seemed to calm down when he did that, and with the madness that was going on around him now, it was the only thing Art could do for her.

They were playing with her mind, he knew. He had heard about what they had done, what they were still doing – not everything, of course, because Mr. Sept at any age wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell him everything. He had sat and listened to their procedures and plans for modifying memories beyond recognition, their “relocation” of “displaced people”, and how they had shut down the worlds one by one.

So they had been the one. The Management – like any other organization, there had to be a head and subordinates. Mr. Sept had merely got rid of the subordinates and had three heads instead, all working together with the same objectives and intent because they were the same. Alpha, Theta and Omega – they could understand each other perfectly, contribute what they had without creating conflict, and in a way, even read each other’s minds and emotions. It was management co-operation made perfect, without the unnecessary meetings and discussions and “creative disagreements”.

‘Tell me how you created these worlds,’ Art ventured several hours later. His voice had gone hoarse, though he had accepted the occasional drink from the Omega Mr. Sept who had the most manners, at least.

‘Trade secret,’ Alpha said, laughing unpleasantly.

‘Did you use energy?’ Art said quietly.

‘Clever,’ Omega replied, his eyes boring into Art. ‘Quite so. You’ve been reading, boy. And how do we use this energy to create worlds, pray tell?’

‘You…concentrate it, and manipulate it to create the worlds.’ Art bent his head and pushed Iris’s damp hair off her face. ‘Oneiric energy.’

‘Ah, I see. And what else?’

‘Oneiric energy…it changes time and space, doesn’t it? And it somehow distorts reality – it’s what people call magic, but it’s not really, because you’ve found a way to understand and use it…’

‘Clever boy!’ Theta clapped and smirked. He could make a clap sound patronizing and mocking, but Art chose to ignore it.

‘Quite so,’ Omega said. He brought the tips of his fingers together and surveyed Art over his hands. ‘And now tell me why we’ve broken up these worlds after putting in all the work to build them.’

‘You…you…well, from what you said earlier, I can guess that you’re planning something…destructive.’

‘Oh?’ Omega nodded in amusement. ‘Destructive, is it? And why is it destructive?’

‘Because you’re planning to change reality in this world?’

‘Almost there, boy,’ Alpha said. ‘But not quite.’

‘There’s someone else in this, isn’t it?’ Art said sharply.

‘Was,’ Omega corrected gently. ‘There was someone else working with us. And now she will be…disposed.’

‘You mean Iris?’

‘No, not her!’ Theta barked. ‘We don’t need her for this – she’d be too stupid to work with us in creating new worlds!’

‘Thank you, Theta,’ Omega said coldly.

‘It’s…the Dream Lady.’ Art bit back a gasp. ‘She was in this the whole time.’

‘Correct.’ Omega shook his head regretfully. ‘But she seems to have got funny ideas, hasn’t she?’

‘You mean she didn’t want to help you in destroying worlds!’

‘Quite so,’ Alpha agreed cheerfully. ‘We can’t have people trying to disrupt The Management, can we?’

‘No, even if it means deaths,’ Art continued softly.

Omega nodded, with an air of finality. ‘I see you have understood. Now will you help us?’

‘No.’

‘It would mean that one more life can be saved.’ Omega’s eyes flickered meaningfully towards Iris.

‘Tell me what you want then.’ Art made his face grow hard, but inside he was quaking. He couldn’t do this, what if something went horribly wrong, and what about Jonas –

‘Help us to persuade a poor confused man to co-operate with us,’ Alpha said pleasantly. ‘Is that not easy?’

‘What will happen to the hostage?’

‘Ah, the hostage.’ Theta’s face creased into a mocking grin. ‘He will be dealt with.’

‘Patience,’ Omega reminded him, restraining him with a hand. ‘He will be seen to.’

‘If I help you,’ Art said, choosing his words as best as he knew how, ‘will you spare two lives instead of one?’

‘That will not be a problem.’ Alpha shrugged. ‘If we see that it’s okay.’

‘I mean Iris and Jonas.’

A look of mild surprise came over Omega’s face. ‘What about the Dream Lady?’

Art felt something go hard inside him, as though part of him were turning to ice. He felt betrayed, naturally, and cheated. The lady had seemed so trustworthy, so honest…and yet she had been working with these deranged men all along. Why should he continue to trust her? She had pushed him around all this time, and made him look like a fool. Besides, she hadn’t even told him what she had planned to do before she was caught.

‘What about her?’ he said at last.