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

And then, out of the silence, she said, “You might prefer I toldyou that, Mr Carver. But it isn’t that. Your last medical check showed youhealthy and very fit. Everything in perfect working order. Much, much bettereven than for many much younger men. But this other matter. That’s different.Sit down, Mr Carver, please. It will be easier then, on us both.” And he leftthe window and sat down.

Asshe spoke to him, she ceased to be beautiful, or anyone he (even slightly)knew. She became only her voice, and then the voice smoked off into the darkand the red. Her voice became only what it said to him, and told him, thepictures this summoned. Sometimes he thought he interrupted to ask herquestions, or to contest what she said. Did she reply? Or not–? Conceivably he didnot speak. Afterwards,though he could recollect his asking, denying,challenging, he could not remember hearing his own voice. Therefore maybe hehad only listened, dumb.

“Scar.You’ve read the file and the other notes on Scar. No need for subterfuge.Please credit me when I tell you this, no one can presently either see oreavesdrop, let alone record, our talk or actions. All Surveillance, andaffiliated systems here, have failed, or are in the full process of it.Security and visio-audial went the first. As with any type of Third Person. Ofcourse, this is enemy sabotage, and connected to the other effect which hastaken hold, the generalised irrational behaviour of almost everyone on site,the – madness Imay as well call it. It amounts to madness, sometimes in its most pronouncedforms. And in this case, perhaps, to judge a book by its cover is only commonsense. What else but mad was poor Charlie Hemel? Or any of the several otherswho have done similar or worse things in the past forty-eight hours? But you’vewitnessed a lot of madness, haven’t you, Mr Carver? Enough to recognise itwithout too much prevarication. Accept, then, the mechanisms are also out oftheir minds. And I can say freely what I must say. And you should listen inturn as freely and openly. There will be no record. Not that a record of thisparticular lesson is required. It must simply occur. Scar,then, the curious clue to some unprecedented espionage or conspiracy, someterrorist or conjunctive plan. Scar. A name for a mark on the skin, a landscapefeature. A family name. And the Third Scar, the enigma – thefinal item – at which the deadly curse, as in a story of Mr Sherlock Holmes byMr Arthur Conan Doyle, will fall. I won’t now unravel the leads in this pieceof nonsense. It was and is a very open code, and meant to be suspected, ifperhaps not entirely solved. It was leaked, of course. In the same way thatSilvia Dusa – do you remember Silvia? – was intended to desert Mantik and goover to the opposition, or rather to the branch of the opposition in whosefaltering stronghold you and I now find ourselves. Silvia Dusa had her ownmission, which she fulfilled rather well. She sold you to the enemies ofMantik, the outfit here. And when Mantik had tangled you up sufficiently – thefaked and incriminating recording of you and Silvia, her death, the implicationof your exclusion – and left you unprotectedly alone, the opposition, under the aegis of Mr Peter Croft moved in, and took youand brought you here, to this cliffy retreat. And no, though in a way you arein Britain, we are not in Kent, Mr Carver. Hopefully in a while, sooner orlater, you’ll get a proper overview of where we are. But that’s for futurereference. Meanwhile, fully to clarify Scar for you, the ThirdScar. There are indeed three subjects. Not marks of old wounds, nor outcrops ofcliffs, nor, in themselves, influences, curses. They are three people. As forthe family name given them, I’m afraid this is someone’s little joke in verybad taste. Maybe it even halfway suggested itself to you, and you dismissed it,not unintelligently, as meaning nothing. Except, it does, you see. Or, youwill see in a moment.Take your mother’s name, now. Zarissa, originally.But she anglicised it, a common self-protective measure among foreign immigrantsto any unknown country; either the parents do it, or the children at last.Molinsky becomes Mollins, perhaps, or Goldman – Oldman. Petre or Pe’ta – Peter.Cava becomes Carver with the last A replaced and thrown off, and Andreas –Andrew. And Zarissa – Sara. Sara Carver. S. Carver. SCARVER. Loose the lastthree letters. SCAR.”

“Itpasses down through the mothers, it seems, the relevant gene. Though the womenthemselves are not, at least as is so far known, imbued with its powers. Ratherlike the disease haemophilia, which passes through the mother and, again, as isso far known, affects mostly her sons. Though an occasional daughter has, itwas eventually determined, also been afflicted by the ailment. So it crosses from family to unrelated family, throughsexual union in or out of marriage. The woman herself ungifted, or unpoisoned,dormant, only the conducting agent. In this case now, the three people referredto in Mantik’s scheme do include two men and one woman. All of them fairly young,in their early or mid thirties, as are you. Of course, as are you. Since you, MrCarver, are the third of their number. Let me make clear at once that theskittish use of your mother’s name to identify both you and the rest of theEnglish trio, does not mean Sara, your mother, gave birth to all three. Indeednot. Her only child, at least this far, has been yourself. The other male’smother was an English woman, who died during his infancy in Europe. And thefemale member of the Scar Trio – well, her mother is still alive, thoughperhaps not for too much longer. A frail woman, this mother, and extensivelyvicious to compensate her for her frailty. How do I know to offer such apersonal insight? Why, because the bitch is my mother, naturally. Since I am theSecond Scar, Mr Carver. Drink some more of the coffee now, Mr Carver. It willhelp you. Yes, good. Rest your back against the wall. Good. I will