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

Merville had stressed, many times and bydiffering means, the two first and second syllable letters of her name. Andthey made up the very same code clue as the others from Mantik. A and J and Mand V left SD. So what – what – was this woman’s connection withDusa, who had betrayed Mantik, and shopped Carver, and died as her reward?

 

Eighteen

Yellow.

Straightthrough and done with turquoise and lime. Yellow now: 4th Level Alert.

Carverhad dropped asleep, drugged this time by silence and the surrounding wrap ofthe dark. He thought he had dreamed of Anjeela again, standing under a magentamaple tree that had burned through the greenness of the woods. “Drop yourpants,” Anjeela said. As he had said it. But that was all.

Themorning light was coming back now too. And above, the yellow glow in the shedwas dissolving. Did he only imagine it had become fully yellow? Or did heimagine it was not yellow, orlime, that it was the same greenish blue as it had been before or did he–?

“Energies.” Croft’svoice, distinct as if physically heard. “Nostocaris. That fish. Shining Knife. Casts nogiveawayshadow.Someone without a soul.”

Carvergot up. His body felt stiff and unwieldy for a moment. But he was physicallywell enough trained this went off at once.

Hewas hungry and dry and his bladder angry. He pissed against the tree, thinkingof late revellers going home from the pub through the village woods around andbehind his house there, that house he had owned and lived in with Donna, andhow the drunks peed on the trees, as if this counted for anything.

Heconsidered Johnston also for the turn of one thought. What Johnston had beendoing, and why, and what had happened (forget fake reassurances) to Johnstonwhen Croft’s army, the nameless Us, arrived to grab Carver. And what hadhappened to Donna, Maggie. And who had really assisted, or themselves onlyfacilitated Silvia Dusa’s blood-letting death.

Bythen he was walking directly south towards the up-and-down building. The unwieldyshape was soon clearly visible, some of its night lights still on, and the dayreturning in pale waves. There seemed a lot of smoke going up in a solid columnon the far side. The smell of old burning was stronger now. A hundred largewooden things – logs, chairs, tables – thoroughly consumed, a thousand baconsandwiches crisped to ashes in their flaming hearts.

Drawing nearerto the building, Carver found he went by and through small herds of peoplesleeping, or beginning fretfully to wake, on the ground. There was a scatter ofcampers’ tents, some of which, inadequately erected, had collapsed. Theremnants of the fires lay on seared black mats of scorched turf. One or two hadkept partly alight. He saw at least five that had at some point got out of handand spread – marks of fire-extinguisher wet, damage to tree trunks andfoliage, a blackened creeper.

Tothe south side, even so, at least from here, the smoke pillar actually seemedless; its stench hung low. All this was like the aftermath of a poorly runmusic festival. Along the edges of the gravel drive a couple of the rose urnshad been broken. Flowers spilled, showing their thorns.

Nowand then, as he passed, he had encountered a burst of random abuse, the sortyou might get from an unknown drunk dissatisfied in the street. Up close tothe building, Security was roaming about. The men looked as they had afterCharlie Hemel’s death. They were untidy, as if dressed and assembled inunexpected haste, asked to act, and employmethods they were entirely unused to and had not ever practiced.

Oneman came shouldering over to Carver. The man’s hair had been slicked backimpatiently, and flared up in misaligned quills.

“Wherehave you been?” he rapped.

“Fora walk.”

“Whereare you going?”

“Inside,”said Carver.

“Getin and stay in,” said the security man.

“Why?What’s happened?”

“Don’tfucking argue. Get in, go to your room, and stay put.”

“Sure,”said Carver.

Hewent past the man who, he was aware, turned to stare after him, making certainthe returnee did as ordered.

Otherpeople were milling around a side entrance when Carver reached it. They werequarrelling fiercely, dedicatedly. One of the men was in tears of frustration. “Youthink too much, you don’t listen–” Carver went by them. They seemed notto see him. But as he moved into the as yet still night-lit hall space beyondthe door, one of the women ran after him. “Wait! Wait!” she cried. She flungher arms around him. He tried gently to ease her off but she would not let go. “Whyhave I had to wait so long for you?” she asked. There was less recrimination inher voice than sadness. He did not know her, could not recall even noticing herbefore. She was fairly ordinary, pretty, slender, average age and type. “Don’tleave me,” she said, piteously.

Drugsagain, this time used on her, or by her on herself? Alcohol? She did not seemparticularly drunk or high. Only – upset.

“What’sthe matter?” He could hear the caution in his tone .

Sodid she. “How can you be so cruel to me? After all this while – You and me. Everyone recognises that– why can’t you?”

Shewas insane. Something, or someone, had driven her mad. Just as the bicycle haddriven Charlie Hemel to the cliff’s edge and over.

“OK,”Carver said. He patted her shoulder. “We need to talk, then.”

“Yes!”she exclaimed. “Yes.”

“Ijust have to see Croft,” said Carver – would she remember who Croft was, hisapparent significance? It looked as if she did, thank Christ. “I’ll be abouthalf an hour. Then I’ll meet you here.”

“Can’tI come with–”

“Youknow what he’s like.”

Sheappeared puzzled then, already losing the thread because it made sense and so,to her now, was meaningless.

“Seeyou soon,” said Carver. He moved from her grip and she let her arms fall.

Ashe got into the first lift he could find, he did not glance back. She wascrying now, like the guy outside. Like Van Sedden. (Donna, Sara.) Too manytears.

Thelift went up three floors only. Carver got out on the third, tramped down anempty corridor that had coloured photographs on the walls of ships and castles,and no windows. Turning into another corridor, lights on and lined by closeddoors, Carver picked up a low buzzing sound, some machine, and farther on severalvoices shouting, words lost. No