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.

Nano 15

The man raised his head as several guards walked into the room, the hard soles of their shoes click-clacking on the polished white floor. The guard at the head of the group, evidently the leader, pointed silently at him and beckoned with his finger. The man stood up slowly, keeping a hand on the back of his chair. There seemed to be an impression of instability about him, as though he was about to lose his balance and topple over or lose his calm at any moment.

‘What is it this time?’ the man asked, voice ragged with exhaustion and the agonizingly long wait in the room. He clung to the chair as though he could hardly support himself without it. The guard cleared his throat to indicate his impatience and took out a slip of paper.

‘Orders,’ the guard barked out, holding out the slip to the man.

The man waved a hand weakly and looked away, his face crumpling with disappointment and – what could only be – fear. The leader guard nodded to the rest behind him, and they spread out across the room and went to their stations in the corners. The man collapsed onto his chair and dropped his head onto the desk before him. A faint sound issued from his unseen lips, something between a whimper and a groan of despair.

The guards waited patiently for another half hour, before the leader left his corner and came to speak to the man. The man remained as he was, bowed over with his face hidden, emitting strange little noises from time to time.

‘Orders,’ the guard repeated, placing a hand lightly on the man’s shoulder. ‘We have been given orders, sir.’ He spoke firmly and respectfully, though with impatience. The person who had given the orders would undoubtedly be irritated with the unnecessary delay and the man’s reluctance to co-operate.

The man groaned loudly; this time it was audible enough to leave no one in any doubt of his feelings. The guard squeezed his shoulder briefly and waited.

A buzz filled the room, a harsh electronic sound issuing from one of the walls. The guard nearest to the sound touched something on the smooth surface of the wall, revealing a flap that had not been noticed till now. There was a camera lens and a speaker behind the flap, and the buzz was coming from the speaker.

‘Yes sir,’ the guard said, standing to attention. The other guards stood a little straighter in their posts and lifted their heads higher.

‘Why is he not in the appointed place?’ a tinny voice said peevishly. ‘I gave the order half an hour ago, and I expected him to be waiting in my office by now. Where is he?’ The lens swiveled smoothly in its socket to survey the room. It halted as its focus was directed on the hunched form of the man at his desk.

‘Sir,’ the leader said, stepping forward and blocking the man from view, ‘we believe that he is under considerable mental stress and needs immediate attention from the psychs. Would it be possible to bring a few here to examine him now?’

‘Are you disobeying me, Alpha 3?’ The tone of the electronic voice had changed swiftly to one of hostility and warning.

‘We are only concerned for the well-being of the man, sir,’ the leader replied, his face betraying no change of emotion.

‘That does not concern me.’ The camera lens rotated in a blur, panning the room at 360 degrees, at all angles. It was impossible to hide anything from the lens.

‘Yes sir,’ the leader said dutifully. ‘We will bring him up to your office right away, sir.’

‘At once,’ the voice commanded.

‘Yes sir,’ the other guards echoed.

The lens did another sweep of the room and then settled back in its groove. The guard who had opened the flap turned to shut it. The leader nodded to the rest. They came away from their posts and stood in a semicircle around the man.

‘It must be done,’ the leader said to the man. His tone was soft, almost coaxing.

The man lifted his head and sighed heavily. ‘I know. But I – I didn’t think it’d be this early. I have given them what they want! What more do they want?’ he cried.

‘Orders, sir,’ the leader said, not losing the coaxing note to his voice. The tone seemed false beneath its apparent sincerity; the guard had been trained to behave in this manner in this situation; he was a professional.

‘I know, I know!’ The man gripped the edge of his desk and stared at the unremarkable white surface. ‘It is now. No time to waste.’

‘Yes, sir.’ The leader nodded once to his colleagues.

Several pairs of hands pulled the man to his feet; several other hands pulled the chair out from beneath him. A pair of hands pulled his fingers loose from the desk and held them in a tight clasp. The man felt himself lifted off his feet and placed onto some material suspended at both ends. He found himself on his back, staring up at the solitary lamp with its bright white light, the only source of light in the room, unending and never switched off, for days, for months, maybe years. The lamp moved out of his sight; they were bearing him out of the room. Through the doorway and along the dark cold corridors – a man in a white coat stepped out from one dark doorway with a syringe and stopped the guards.

‘Orders,’ the man in the coat said.

The man in the coat inserted the needle – he, lying prone and without any desire to move or protest, felt the point of the needle pierce his skin; the sensation was so familiar and frequent over the past days and weeks, and yet his body rebelled involuntarily every time it happened; he had risen to his elbows without realizing it – the man in the coat pushed him down gently and pulled out the needle.

‘He’ll be fine,’ the man in the coat said to the guards. ‘Just a little sedative to help him sleep.’

His eyes were closing – little creeping spots of darkness were drifting in and out of his sight, like oil on the surface of water – he was losing his focus – what were the guards saying now –

A cat slinked between the shadows of the dark corridors and padded silently after the guards and the man on the stretcher. As the little procession descended several stairs, the cat slid through a dark doorway and vanished, lost from the sight of anyone or anything that had been observing it.

It felt as though the world had ended.

Correction, Iris said to herself, the world as we know it has ended. The world itself has not ended, because it exists in itself, and therefore the fact of its existence is confirmed because it is existing at this moment in time and we can perceive that it does, therefore existence per se –

‘Gets a bit crazy after a while eh?’ Art grumbled beside her.

She smiled wanly at him and shrugged. He at least had the same views as she did on the recent developments. The others had been more concerned about action than thought.

Mr. Sept paced before them, thin back bent in the firelight, head down and brows furrowed, pondering the next step to take. Jonas had gone back to sleep and was even now murmuring in his dreams. The cat had left hours ago, presumably to perform the necessary step Mr. Sept had told him to. And the lady –

She sat curled up before the fire with Art’s blanket around her shoulders. Since her sudden appearance, she had not spoken much to the others. She seemed to have found out the facts from the cat without actually speaking to it; the cat had taken for granted that the others would relay the information to her. Art and Iris had not bothered to do so, and Mr. Sept had been too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice.

‘Mac says that the man is guarded at all hours,’ Mr. Sept muttered to himself. ‘That would make it impossible, unless…’

‘Who’s Mac?’ Art asked, stifling a yawn.

‘The cat,’ Iris answered, running her fingers through her hair. She had been doing it on and off since the haircut. It seemed to relieve her agitation in some indefinable way.

‘Didn’t know it had a name.’ Art yawned again, feeling his eyes water.

‘Of course it does,’ Iris said distractedly, ‘and the man told him that it was his – Mac, I mean – name before he started thinking and speaking. Mac thought it’d be all right to adopt the name, since he doesn’t have a clear concept of names anyway.’

‘So Mac’s a he,’ Art concluded. ‘I see.’ Not that it’s an important fact anyway, he wondered sleepily. The cat was a male…and so?

‘I know it doesn’t make sense, but I think I’ve seen Mac before I even saw him,’ Iris mused, chuckling. ‘Odd, since I don’t even like cats that much.’

‘Maybe you have,’ Art joked. ‘In an alternate universe.’

‘That could be possible,’ the lady said gravely. She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders and turned to look at the boy and girl. ‘Would you believe me if I told you that there are other worlds, besides the one you are in at this moment?’

‘It could be,’ Art said, and added as an afterthought, ‘theoretically.’

‘Theorists are not always wrong,’ the lady said. ‘For centuries now their far-fetched theories and predictions have been the basis for scientific breakthroughs and developments. But what if – what if – they were right after the actual event occurred?’

‘Are you saying that there is concrete proof that other worlds exist?’

‘Yes, if you would believe me,’ the lady replied. ‘I can show them to you, or what’s left of them.’

‘Wait, wait,’ Iris interrupted, laughing skeptically, ‘are you lying or do you actually believe that alternate worlds do exist?’ She held up her hands and exclaimed dramatically, ‘Lo and behold!’

‘You think I’m lying.’ The lady shook her head slowly and smiled. ‘But would you believe me after you saw them for yourself?’

‘Well if you can, maybe I would,’ Iris conceded. ‘Show us.’

‘We have to wait till we speak to your father.’ The lady glanced at Mr. Sept, who continued pacing and muttering incoherently, deep in thought. ‘We have to wait for Mac to return.’

‘But he’s just left,’ Iris pointed out, ‘how can he reach my supposed father so soon? It took him weeks to find me.’

‘Oneiric energy.’ The lady shifted her gaze to Art. The boy stared at her, nonplussed.

‘You’re lying,’ he said flatly.

‘Perhaps.’ Lady Nyamph appeared to be unaffected by his accusation. ‘But I know much more of it than you do – no, much more about it than anyone does.’

‘Then show us,’ Iris challenged, rising to her knees. ‘Show us these worlds, and we’ll believe you. Show us the oneiric energy or whatever it is you say you know, and we’ll believe you. Show us that you’re not lying – haven’t been lying to us – and we’ll believe you.’

‘Iris.’ Art pulled her down gently and turned to the lady, ‘Will you?’

‘I would, but this isn’t a convenient time,’ the lady said. ‘I know you haven’t trusted me since we met, Iris, but for now, I would ask you not to jump to conclusions. Whatever I have done, or tried to, was for your sake and Art’s.’

‘Then why were the glams avoiding you?’ Iris raised her head triumphantly, confident that she had spotted the flaw in the argument.

‘Because I suspect that they have already given their loyalty to someone else, someone who wants you,’ the lady replied, unperturbed. ‘Someone who could harm you – perhaps it’s the same person who sent those men to kidnap you. Have you not considered the possibility?’

‘Did you speak to the Queen then?’ Art asked.

‘I have.’ The lady looked down at her feet, her pale cheeks turning pink with some unidentifiable emotion. ‘She did not question the glams’ loyalty; she believes that they will always be loyal to her. She, on her part, thought I was trying to cheat her for my own ends.’ The lady looked up again, meeting Art’s and Iris’s curious eyes. ‘I promise you, I was only trying to help you both. You are both in danger, and yet you don’t realize it, and neither do the others. Trust me.’

‘I don’t know if I should,’ Iris said uncertainly. ‘I really don’t know.’

‘I would…’ Art fiddled with the edge of the blanket, trying his best to arrange his thoughts. ‘But if I do, what will you do next? Can I trust you that you have told us everything?’

‘I haven’t, I admit.’ The lady looked away from Iris’s accusing glare. ‘I will now. However…will you follow whatever I tell you to do, even if I go against Mr. Sept?’

‘That’s stupid!’ Iris burst out. ‘Do you think we’re stupid, lady?’

‘Iris, shh.’ Art placed a restraining hand on her shoulder to prevent her from leaving before the lady had her say. ‘Why do you say that?’ he said to the lady. ‘Do you realize what you’re asking of us?’

‘Of course I do.’ Doubt flitted across her face for a moment, but the expression was immediately replaced by one of reassurance and patience. ‘But are you willing to do that for me?’

‘Yeah right.’ Iris snorted derisively. ‘Agree to go along with a mad lady without knowing what will happen – a clever plan, that is. Amazing. Wonderful. Awesome.’

‘Of course you don’t have to.’ The lady reached over and patted the girl’s arm understandingly. ‘You’re most welcome to live the rest of your life in this illusion while a man who thinks himself your father languishes in prison until they kill him, or fortunately, he dies a natural death. It’s okay if you don’t want to go. You’re part of a story anyway, probably something out of a twisted imagination with nothing else to do.’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Iris mumbled, drawing her hand away in disgust. ‘You’re sick, lady.’

‘Wait, hold on,’ Art cut in impatiently. ‘What do you want us to do then, lady? Does it involve murder? Do we have to risk our lives stupidly only for some other person to cheat us? Or do we have to do what you said – just follow whatever you tell us to?’

‘But she can tell us to murder or do whatever it is!’ Iris argued. ‘Are you going to trust her then?’

‘D’you know what they say about gut instinct?’

‘Yeah?’ Iris snorted and laughed in his face. ‘Am I supposed to follow my gut instinct and go along with this lady?’

‘Not yours,’ Art said, ‘mine.’

‘Ah. Brilliant. And I was thinking of inviting you to my funeral in the near future, but I don’t think that can be arranged because you’d be dead by then too!’ Iris shrieked.

‘Good.’ Mr. Sept stopped and stared at the little group in surprise. ‘What were you saying?’

‘I was telling them something about leading these kids into danger,’ the lady supplied sweetly, ‘and assuring them that it will involve the risk of dying prematurely.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Mr. Sept said. He didn’t sound like he had seen, because he went back to pacing and muttering. Iris stared at the man in shock, but it was clear that he had not heard a word of what the lady had said.

‘I have a feeling about this,’ Iris said, ‘do you remember what I said about minding the nuts?’

‘Yeah.’ Art shrugged. ‘It doesn’t apply in this situation. It would be a pithy saying for future generations perhaps, if we ever had a chance to record it for posterity, but for now – no, I don’t think it’s the appropriate line in this case.’

‘Art!’ The girl pushed him over roughly. ‘What’s up with you? What are we to do now, since the lady insists in trying to kill us?’

‘Believe me; I am not trying to kill you.’ The lady sighed. ‘I was only trying to convince you that I may know much more than Mr. Sept does or would know, and that it would be wiser for you two to follow me instead of listening to the orders of a man who clearly does not know what will happen to him.’

‘And why will we do that?’ Iris got up and went over to the window, obviously not interested to hear the answer.

‘A stubborn young lady is she not?’ the lady observed wryly. ‘My time is running out, dear, and if you could be so kind as to help me finish this quick, I’d be very much obliged to you. Besides, there’s the whole messy business with the fairy’s death.’ Her expression changed to sympathy as she turned to Art. ‘I am sorry…but though Mr. Sept did say that he would bear the responsibility of the Queen’s Demand, I’m afraid that she will insist on having you, as you were the last person to speak to the fairy.’ She leaned in close to whisper, ‘Did you know her name?’

‘Erm, no.’ Art shook his head sheepishly. ‘She never told me, and I kind of…forgot to ask. It didn’t seem necessary for me to address her by her name. Erm. Do you know?’

‘No.’ The lady tapped a finger against her nose. ‘It would help if we knew her name, because then you would be able…never mind. What’s done is done, and you’ll still have to bear the Queen’s Demand.’

‘What is the Queen’s Demand then?’

‘The Queen has the right to ask for compensation for the fairy’s death, and she has the right to ask for anything – from a life to gold to your company for seven years with her.’

Art gulped. ‘Anything, you say?’

‘Yes, unfortunately.’

A gasp from Iris caught their attention. She backed away from the window, mouth open in horror.

‘What is it?’ the lady said, leaping to her feet.

‘Men with firearms…help!’

The lady clapped a hand over the girl’s mouth and pulled her away from the window. She nodded to Art, who got up immediately. Mr. Sept was frozen in place, mouthing soundlessly as he watched the men coming nearer and nearer to the house.

‘Now do you believe me?’ the lady hissed. ‘Grab my hand.’

Art reached for her hand and held on tight. The floor seemed to tilt, against all laws of physics. Mr. Sept lunged across the room to grab Art, but before he was halfway there –

The door burst open, and the collective clicks of firearms being held ready to shoot could be heard –

Liz was at the doorway, screaming –

The lady yelled and then they were –

They landed on something soft, which split and swished all around them.

Art was the first to get to his feet. The sight that met his eyes made him sit down again. The lady grinned at him, releasing her tight hold on Iris. The girl collapsed onto her back, mouth still open in a silent scream.

They were in a vast field of sunflowers.

‘No shit,’ Iris said.

‘Yes it is, but it isn’t shit,’ the lady said happily. ‘Right on time and in the right place too!’ she crowed jubilantly. ‘I’m not that far gone yet, you hear me? I’m not dead!’ she yelled to no one in particular.

‘This is crazy.’ It seemed that this place still could not erase the old cliché of someone stating the obvious, i.e. “This is crazy”, when the evidence of their sight could not be denied and it was telling them emphatically: yes, they were sitting in the middle of a field of sunflowers and therefore it wasn’t crazy because they were not crazy, were they? Art shook his head in amazement, surprised that that thought could occur to him in a place like this. It was that problem with the pinball machines again…what were pinball machines anyway?

‘What are pinball machines?’ he said to the lady, who stared back at him in equal perplexity.

‘Where are we?’ Iris demanded.

‘In another world,’ the lady replied nonchalantly. ‘It’s a funny world, isn’t it?’

‘It’s made up of…sunflowers?’ Art ventured. ‘Then yeah, it is funny.’

‘No,’ the lady laughed, ‘what I meant was that each world is unique, of course, but we tend to think that anything that doesn’t conform to our ideas of normal would be “funny”. I was just…joking. You know – irony?’

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Iris threw the lady a dirty look and sat up. ‘Now get us out of here.’

‘I can’t.’ The lady threw up her hands and giggled. ‘I need to know the edges and characteristics of this world first, and it might take days and days.’

‘Any other suggestions?’ Iris whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

Art shrugged. Sunflowers bent in the breeze, huge yellow heads touching his face and head lightly. The lady spread her arms above her head, setting more sunflowers to sway. This world felt completely empty, devoid of humans and animals – not insects though, because a bee just buzzed past his ear – with mile upon mile of sunflowers.

‘Sunflower fields forever, har har.’ It sounded like a bleak joke. Iris agreed with him, by the look she was giving him.

‘Don’t worry.’ The lady waded through the sea of sunflowers a short distance away. The sunflowers reached her shoulders at their tallest, but several were only up to her waist.

‘How about this – you grab her legs and I hold down her arms?’ Iris said in an undertone to Art. The lady half-turned to look back, but she couldn’t have heard; Iris had spoken too softly.

‘Wait. I want to see what she’ll do,’ Art whispered back. ‘I know this is crazy – I’m having trouble believing this – but she’s proven that what she said was true, right? There are alternate worlds that we didn’t know existed all this time.’

‘Yeah yeah.’ Iris rolled her eyes, reluctant to admit that the lady was right after all. ‘So what do we do now – follow her or what?’

‘Yep, we follow her, and hope that she gets us out of here.’

‘Oh she will.’

‘And how do you know that, miss?’

‘Mac. We have to meet that guy who says he’s my dad, right? If Mac can find us here, he’ll tell us the way out!’

‘Hey you’re right.’ Art grinned at her, seeing a smirk developing on her face. ‘Amazing – you’re using your brain to think!’

‘Oh shove off. Hold it. What’s she doing now?’

The lady had stopped wading through the flowers and stood unmoving in one spot, her head bent as though she was thinking. The other two waited for her to move, puzzled and worried. Then the lady raised her head and waved them over to her.

‘Should we go to her?’ Iris said hesitantly. ‘I think there’s something up…she looks worried.’

‘Do we have a choice, do you think?’ Art said, gingerly making his way over to the lady as best as he could without squashing more sunflowers.

‘We do, we always do.’ Iris followed after him, stomping over sunflowers without concern to relieve her irritation and frustration. ‘We could just stay here till someone finds us or something.’

‘Or nothing, Iris,’ Art pointed out, ‘we could be the only ones in this place. And then we’d starve to death before anyone found us.’

‘We could eat sunflower seeds.’ Iris yanked at a particularly tall stalk and poked him in the back with the large flower head. ‘I like sunflower seeds.’

‘Well I don’t. Now try not to make too much trouble, all right?’

‘I think I know,’ the lady said when they reached her.

‘Know what?’ Art noticed the frown, the worry lines at the corner of the lady’s eyes, and held out a warning hand behind his back to Iris.

‘The way out.’ The lady scanned the horizon and shaded her eyes. ‘I don’t know if they’ve changed anything.’

‘Who are they?’

‘They – they’re the same people who has your father, Iris.’

‘I don’t know which father you’re talking about,’ Iris said haughtily.

‘The man you think is your father does not concern me right now,’ the lady retorted, her eyes narrowing. ‘I’m trying to help you here.’

‘Yes yes.’ Art stepped between them hastily. ‘Sorry. What were you saying, lady?’

‘Call me Nyamph. I’m not lady anything.’

‘Er – Nyamph, got it. So – what are you going to do now?’

The lady – no, Nyamph – held out her hands in front of her and felt the air like a blind person. Iris made a face and turned away, crossing her arms to show her displeasure. Art followed the movement of Nyamph’s hands and fingers in the air; she seemed to be feeling along invisible seams and edges without needing to use her eyes. Were worlds made of pieces and parts and sewn together to make a whole? Laurel would go crazy trying to figure out an answer to that question.

The right hand stopped and the index finger raised itself to a particular spot. Nyamph edged her other hand over to the right and placed the other index finger below the first. She curled both in opposite directions, and pulled –

With a sound very much like tearing cloth, the edge of the world came apart, letting in cool air and drops of rain. Iris had her hands at her mouth in disbelief, her eyes wide. Art stepped closer to the gap, gaping with delight and shock. Nyamph pulled further, now using all her fingers and arms. She glanced over her shoulder to smile briefly to the two, with a look that clearly said, ‘See, I told you I was telling the truth the whole time!’

‘No shit,’ Iris breathed. ‘Dear gods.’

‘Now do you believe me?’ Nyamph asked. ‘Do I need to tell you more?’

‘Well you could show us oneiric energy,’ Art said weakly.

‘That will come later, I promise you.’ Nyamph stepped back from the gap, but kept one hand on the edge to ensure that it remained open. ‘Come on, we need to get there quickly.’

‘Go where?’ Iris went right up to the gap and paused, fascination taking over her disbelief and doubt.

‘Save your father, of course.’

‘But I thought we were waiting for Mac – ‘

‘Mac was just giving the warning,’ Nyamph explained. ‘So that the man has time to get ready and plan his next step. Come on.’

A movement at the corner of his eye caught Art’s attention. He swiveled to see sunflower stalks being tossed into the air, cut neatly at their base. And rising with the stalks were the glams and a few fairies on the backs of glams who had changed their shape into birds.

Nyamph gasped and pushed Iris through the gap. Art scrambled after the girl, feeling the lady dive through the gap after him. A loud buzz had risen in the still air; the bees had been summoned to stop them from leaving. Several tiny voices yelled – those were the fairies, while the glams’ voices – magnified and angry – shouted after them to stop.

Nyamph reached past Art and yanked the edges together. A fairy that had managed to get his arm through yelled in pain before the cry was cut off as the edges sealed themselves. The arm fell to the ground, leaking blood.

‘Oh gods, oh gods,’ Iris groaned. ‘Can they get through?’

‘No.’ Nyamph quickly ran her fingers over the invisible edge and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘No, of course not.’

‘I don’t think so, lady.’

Iris gave a whimper as a man grabbed her hair and hauled her up.

‘Now turn around slowly and hold your hands up,’ said a different man’s voice.

Art did as he was told. The shorter man had pinned Iris’s arms behind her back, while the taller one had his knife out, its tip inches from the boy’s ear.

‘Here, lady, do as you’re told,’ the shorter one said.

Nyamph remained as she was, her face flushed. The knife tip moved deliberately from Art to the lady. The taller man jerked his head, indicating that she should stand up and not argue.

‘Please,’ Iris said softly, ‘before he does anything.’ The man holding her tugged at her hair.

‘I know what you’ve been offered,’ Nyamph said, her voice steady despite her ragged breathing, ‘and I know who offered it to you.’

‘So what?’ the shorter man sneered. ‘We can dispose of you quick enough, no questions asked. Do what we tell you, lady. Now get up.’

‘Stop – ‘

The knife swung to Art and came to a stop in the air a very short distance above his shoulder. Art fell silent immediately.

‘Where are they then?’ Nyamph continued speaking. ‘Where are the men who hired you?’

‘Not your business to know,’ the shorter man answered. ‘Look, we’re being nice as it is. Do you want to get hurt?’

‘Obviously I don’t.’ Nyamph nodded once and stood up. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’

‘Not,’ the taller man said. The knife remained where it was near Art, but the expression on the man’s face indicated that he would harm her too if she dared say more.

‘Violence never works, you know.’ Nyamph shrugged. ‘They might not even pay you and your friend after all this is over.’

‘Think we’re stupid, lady?’ the shorter man said.

‘I didn’t say – ‘

The taller man moved very quickly; within seconds the knife was at Nyamph’s face and he had her on the ground, her arms pinned behind her back. Iris bit back another whimper and hid her face. The shorter man pulled at her hair and her head snapped back in pain.

‘Now gentlemen,’ someone else said, ‘that will not be necessary.’

Both the men released Iris and Nyamph and stepped back quietly. Art dared not turn his head, but an arm in a long gray sleeve reached across his line of vision and grasped Nyamph’s shoulder.

‘Dear dear,’ the man said, ‘you again?’

Nyamph did not answer, keeping her head down.

‘It was incredibly stupid to think that you could stop these two from coming to me, you know.’ The hand moved to her head and patted it with exaggerated gentleness, like an adult would to console a disappointed child. The gesture was meant to humiliate Nyamph, Art knew, but the lady remained motionless.

Iris rolled over to look at the man. Her eyes widened in horror.

‘You?’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘Ah yes, me.’ The man seemed amused, almost pleased. ‘Now turn around, Art, and say something to me.’

The boy did turn around, very slowly, dread and anticipation slowly replacing the fear.

It was Mr. Sept – a younger, handsomer and well-dressed Mr. Sept. The man smiled at him, the familiar eyes now colder than the warm and kindly expression Art was used to see in them.

‘Surprise.’ The man spread his arms out and laughed. ‘Fooled you all, didn’t I?’ He squeezed Art’s cheek affectionately. ‘Say something, boy.’

‘Erm,’ was all he could get out.

‘Good enough.’ The man nodded to the two other men. ‘Bring these two up to my office. I shall deal with the lady.’

‘But you can’t – ‘ Iris protested uselessly.

The lady shook her head and said nothing. Iris fell silent immediately.

The younger Mr. Sept paused and sighed. ‘You’re wrong, Iris,’ he said. ‘I already did.’