Merciless Reason (36 page)

He gently placed the skull back in the box and covered it with the lid. Tatty put two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle to call back the servants, making some of the family jump at the sound.

“Who's for dessert?” she asked. “The cooks have done up a splendid meringue, or there are marzipan fingers to have with your coffee …” She glanced at the box. “They are
just
made with marzipan, nothing else of course …”

Nate excused himself from the table and walked away across the lawn, looking up at the ruins of the building that had been his home for most of his life.

“Where will you go?” Cathal asked from behind him.

Nate turned, surprised that he hadn't heard the younger man approach.

“Scotland first, I think,” he replied. “Find some out-of-the-way spot and wait for Daisy. After that … I don't know. We'll keep moving around for a while. Don't worry, we'll stay in touch.”

Cathal nodded. He wanted to ask something, but held back, biting his lip. He still had his stump tucked into his jacket and Nate cast his gaze down at it. An uneasy look crossed his face, but then it was gone. He lifted his eyes to Cathal's.

“The worst is past, Cathal. Things will work out. Between you and Tatty, you'll make a wonderful Patriarch.” Nate smiled, putting his hand on Cathal's shoulder. “Just mind that temper of yours. Don't lose your head. And that's not an easy prospect if you're planning on marrying Tatty.”

Cathal's ears and freckled cheeks went bright red.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I'm not
blind
, Cathal!” Nate said, grinning. “But I couldn't ask for a better match for my little sister. I'm not sure the world is ready for your children, but you'll both do fine. I have no doubt about it.”

He turned his head to look at the sun sinking beyond the hills, and Cathal could tell that his cousin wanted to be alone. As Nate walked away, Tatty came up behind Cathal and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“You didn't tell him?” she asked, knowing the answer.

He shook his head, drawing his arm from his jacket and untying the bandage with the help of his teeth. She knew him well enough not to offer to help, but she noted that he would have to get a more presentable cover for the arm soon, now that the wound had sealed up. Unwinding the bandage, he felt Tatty's chin on his shoulder and knew she was watching as he uncovered the stump where his hand should have been.

“It doesn't have to be a problem,” she said quietly. “We'll just tell people it wasn't as bad as everyone thought.”

Cathal wasn't so sure that would work. He looked at the stump, at the four stubby fingers and the nub of a thumb that was growing from the new lump of flesh that had sprouted from the end of his arm. There could be no doubt about it. His forearm and hand were growing back. It had been the focus of his thoughts for days, and now it was happening.

“What else can you do, do you think?” Tatty asked.

Cathal thought about Gerald's leviathan, and Nate's transformation, and the huge sunken crater of dead earth and rusted train wreckage on the south side of the hill. He twisted his head round to smile at her, and kissed her cheek.

“Isn't this enough?” he laughed, wiggling his budding fingers. “Come on, let's get back. I don't think we should leave that lot on their own for long. God only knows what they might get up to.”

“Shame on you, Cathal Dempsey!” she exclaimed, letting him take her arm as they started back towards the dinner tables set out on the lawn. “If you can't trust your family, who can you trust?”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

A BIT OF BACKGROUND

For the sake of readers from the UK and beyond, I thought I'd provide a short note on some of the Irish cultural and historical references in the Wildenstern Saga, and particularly in this story. For the sake of clarity, I'll set them out here in chronological order, rather than in the order they appear in the story.

There is a vast and varied collection of Irish folktales and legends that were originally passed from generation to generation by oral storytellers, but which are being gradually organized and collected into volumes by modern storytellers and historians. These range from whimsical fairy tales to epic sagas depicting god-like achievements. I mention a few characters from these legends in
Merciless Reason
.

There is Cormac MacArt, a warrior king from about 200 AD. There is Fionn MacCumhaill, leader of an army of elite warriors called the Fianna, legendary defenders of Ireland (the Fenians would later take their name from this group). The further back you go, the more god-like the characters become. The Dagda featured in the oldest cycle of legends; a powerful master of all the arts, he was said to have a cauldron that could feed an army, and could regenerate the dead—though some sources ascribe this second power to the huge club he wielded in battle. Warriors in these legends were often described as experiencing physical changes brought on by their bloodlust in battle, where their bodies underwent monstrous transformations, sometimes referred to as “warp spasms.” The most famous of these descriptions can be found in the stories of the Cattle Raid of Cooley, featuring a warrior named Cúchullain.

Ireland has suffered many famines in its history, but the one that changed the character of the country forever, known as the Great Famine, occurred between 1845 and 1852. A catastrophic period of starvation, disease, and emigration, it was a pivotal point in Irish history. About one million people died and nearly the same number again emigrated to escape the devastation. This, despite the fact that Ireland had many richly fertile and extremely productive farms. At that time, Ireland was ruled by Britain and most of the landowners (but by no means all) were British, and most of those continued to live in Britain. There was a real Duke of Leinster of the time—a major landowner—though his name was not Wildenstern, and his family was nothing like theirs, being more sympathetic to the peasants' plight. The system at the time was for the peasants to work on these farms, not for money but for the right to use a piece of their masters' land to grow their own food. These pieces of land were invariably small, so in order to make the most of what they had, the peasants chose to grow the most filling, most nutritious food available—the potato. For the poorest living in the countryside, this made up almost all of their diet. In a country whose population was as poverty-stricken as any Third World country today, the people had no means of making money to buy other types of food.

When a disease known as potato blight first struck in 1845, that year's crop of potatoes began to literally rot in the ground, before they could be harvested. The following year, the crop was destroyed again. And then again the next year.

As the peasants slowly starved to death, massive quantities of food were still being transported to Britain and beyond under heavily-armed guard. There is still ongoing debate about how responsible the government was for the disastrous years that followed, but there is no doubt that too little was done too late. Whether it was through starvation, disease, or even by drowning on the overcrowded, ramshackle “coffin-ships” headed for America, the loss of life was unprecedented in the nation's history. In the space of less than seven years, the country lost nearly a quarter of its population to death and emigration. The nation struggled for decades to recover; the Industrial Revolution that followed was slow to reach the south of Ireland, developing much more quickly up in the north. In the story, I portray Dublin as more industrialized than it actually was.

A nationalist group called the Young Irelanders attempted a rebellion in 1848, seeking an end to British Rule, but the nation failed to rise with them, as most people were struggling just to stay alive, and the rebels were easily defeated. Some of the survivors later joined others to create the Irish Republican Brotherhood. A very different organization to the various modern terrorist factions calling themselves the IRA, it had major public support among the Irish people. Part civil movement, part guerrilla army, it had ties to another group, the Fenian Brotherhood, in the United States. The members of both groups eventually became known as ‘Fenians,' though the term would later be used by the British authorities to refer to any nationalist sympathizer. From the 1850s right up to the twentieth century and the 1916 Rising, the IRB remained the dominant rebel group in Ireland.

Apart from the fantasy/science fiction elements of the Wildenstern Saga, such as the family itself, the engimals, and the intelligent particles, the life of ordinary people in Ireland is depicted as accurately as I was able to within the confines of the story.

Oisín McGann

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My first thanks, as ever, must go to my family. It takes a fair bit of nerve to spend months pouring the contents of your imagination into a document, to turn it into a book, and then expect people to pay good money for the pleasure of reading it. I don't know if I'd ever have had the confidence—or indeed, the ability—to do it if it weren't for the belief and support (and critical faculties) of my family. What my mother and father started off, my brothers and sisters contributed to, and now my wife, Maedhbh, and my children help me maintain my reason and bring their spirit to this way of life I love so much.

My brother, Marek, makes sure my website (
www.oisinmcgann.com
) keeps on ticking and responds with equanimity to my sudden notions, odd requests, and any number of run-of-the-mill questions that he has answered more than once before.

A quick note of appreciation to all the people in the children's book crowd, in the UK, but particularly in Ireland. This is a bit of a crackpot industry, but its effects are tempered by the passion, warmth, and enthusiasm of those who work in it, who help to promote it, and who take part in so many different ways. It's a pleasure to be part of this community. Please support your local library! But even more importantly, get in there and take advantage of it—it has a thousand and one uses!

Thanks to my agent, Sophie Hicks, as well as Edina Imrik and everyone at Ed Victor Ltd, who apply the firm hand of reason to a shifting world of rights, contracts, and percentages and who keep a watchful eye on a business environment that is going through some major changes.

And finally, a special thanks to Emma Pulitzer, Mary McAveney, and everyone at Open Road Media for their work on the US edition of this book, and for their diligence in making sure I was involved in, and kept informed of, every stage of the publishing and promotion process.

Thanks to all of you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Oisín McGann was born and raised in Dublin and Drogheda, County Louth, in Ireland. He studied art at Senior College Ballyfermot and Dún Laoghaire School of Art, Design & Technology. Before becoming an author, he worked as a freelance illustrator, serving time along the way as a pizza chef, security guard, background artist for an animation company, and art director and copywriter in an advertising agency.

In 2003 McGann published his first two books in the Mad Grandad series for young readers, followed by his first young adult novel,
The Gods and Their Machines
. Since then, he has written several more novels for young adults, including the Wildenstern Saga, a steampunk series set in nineteenth-century Ireland, and the thrillers
Strangled Silence
and
Rat Runners
.

A full-time writer and illustrator, McGann is married, has three children, and lives somewhere in the Irish countryside.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2009 by Oisín McGann

Cover design by Jason Gabbert

978-1-4976-6582-8

Published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

www.openroadmedia.com