Turquoiselle by Tanith Lee (best memoirs of all time TXT) 📕

springs. Even you, probably, saw the same processions of dull greyunwarm days when you were a kid. Snow in May. And not limited to the UK, allacross Europe.”

Carverdid not speak. It was not apparently, essential.

Croftrose. Yes, about six foot three, and of a strongly developed, heavy frame.Approximately two hundred and fifteen pounds. “Why not we go outside, have astroll in the grounds? What do you say, Car?”

Itwas not the voice from the drugged darkness.

Itwas not a voice Carver knew.

Inany case, neither the voice nor the man took any notice of Carver’s reaction,even the chance of one. Croft, risen, strode towards the room’s second door,and plainly Carver must get up and go with him. Carver did not prevaricate.What point? He too rose and followed Croft, who opened the door by the previousmeans of a pressed button-panel in the wall. The door undid itself intoanother corridor, low-lit, featureless, windowless, and winding. It seemed totake a few minutes to go along it and reach another door operating on buttons.Which in turn undid itself into another lift. Down they flowed, five, sixfloors – seven? The lift door gave on a dazzle of flooded white and burninggreen and blue, drowning Carver’s eyes. A terrace, flagged. Stone steps with asafe if ornamental stone handrail. The park – the grounds – beyond, the savage tangles of unprunedbushes and trees, the high-grassed upslopes, the radiance, and the salt-clearsmell of the sea from the far side of the house, and the gulls, borne over nowby some updraught, noiseless and floating. From the position of the sun, thisplace had just gone by midday, in somewhere or other.

They walked up aslope, but the trees were very thick, their trunks often wider than three orfour Crofts hugged together. The foliage was a static deluge of green fire. Orwas that a yellow leaf there? Itmight indicate only damage, not a season. One did not see through the treesanyway, to any other slope. The Russian train-carriage sheds were not visible.

“Ah,here’s the bench. We’ll sit, shall we?”

Theysat, side by side, separated by an interval of about one metre, on the longsmooth stone seat. It had a flat and upright back, and arm rests at either endin the shape of – what were they? Griffins, Carver thought. Yes, griffins, eagles’heads and the bodies of lions. An impossibility, and not what they seemed.

Nowherein view was there any sign of a boundary, a wall or electrified fence. Noindication of anything significant, beyond the trees.

Croftstretched, lazily, as if entirely at ease.

“Lovelyplace, this. And wonderful weather.” (Would he now suggest they go cycling? Hedid not.)

Butthe big carven head, under its iron cap of real or unreal hair, smoothlyturned, and there were the two dark eyes, looking for his.

Carvermet them. His father had had eyes as dark as this, though of a differentcolour. He himself, Carver thought, had eyes the same as Croft’s. (Cava.Andreas Cava.)

“Thepoint is,” said Croft mildly, “I want you to relax, Car. I can see that may bedifficult for you at the moment. Understandably so. And in light of that, Iwant to fill in a few of the empty boxes for you, explain how things are, here.You’re safe, Car. Perfectly safe. Safer here, with us, than probably you havebeen all these past – how many? Let’s see, it’s around eighteen to twenty years,is it? I mean since when you got into that college out in the wilds of – Suffolk was it? Or WestSussex... Slips my mind, but of course, you’ll remember it well. Rescued fromthat daft secondary school – called after that bloody woman Vita Sackville-West,I suppose. They started your training off there, at the college, bit by bit.And then recruited you for the Service. Serve your country. Save your land.Anti-any-and-all-others – even our beloved allies, the Godforsaken Yanks, if itcomes to it. An interesting job for a boy, a young man. Not boring. What is it Mantik’sslang calls its own people? Life Long Enemies, that’s it, isn’t it, Car? L.L.E.The L.L.E. of all the other oppressive and misguided regimes all over theworld, and of all their spies and vandals. The Secret Secret Service. That’s you. Rule Britannia.And then you make one tiny little error, and Mantik puts on its dinner jacketand gets ready to eat you up alive.”

Croftstopped talking. He stared on into Carver’s eyes, which did not now have towater, in the warm green thoughtfulness of the shade.

“You’resaying this place has nothing to do with Mantik,” Carver said, flat, neutral.

“Asfar from Mantik as the moon, Car. Much, much farther. From here, you can see the moon, now and then.”

Croft wasleaning back again, his jacket removed and slung over his arm of the bench, hislegs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. He might be anyone, taking a break,enjoying the summer, or autumn Indian Summer, as perhaps it was. Certainly themany scanning devices that would be discreetly planted around would pick upthat pose. And Carver’s too,sitting still, tense and listening. There might be men as well, discreetlyplanted around, armed and waiting for the chance that after all Carver decided torun for it. But surely, lessoned as he had been at Mantik, he would neverattempt such a futile thing.

“Whyam I safe,” he said at last, “with you, if not with Mantik?”

“We,Car, are the corporation that in turnkeeps an eye on them. Somebody hasto. I’m certain, if you consider it carefully, you can see the common sense ofsuch a back-up unit. So no, Car, nobody here is asking you to become – thatlovely Shakespearianesque word – a traitor. You’re still fully in British hands.Just as you’re on British – English – soil.”

“Whydo you want me?”

“Whydid Mantik want you? Haveyou never properly asked yourself that? No, you haven’t, you see. We don’t, dowe? We all already know we are special. That’s how we survive being alive. And thus, of course they wouldsingle you out.”

“I’m– I was an errand boy.”

“Jargon.My dear Car, do you reallythink that was all they wanted from you?”

“Itwas just about all I did.” (No point in lying, Carver thought. This set-up,whatever it was, had evidently wrung out