Penult (19 page)

“
Oh, Heavens! You’re just a
skeleton! I thought you would have packed on some pounds being out
of prison and all.”

“
Well, we’ve been on the
road a bit. Now, we’re back in Wales. The goat farm burnt down. And
the owner’s nephew was killed in a motorcycle accident.”

“
Oh my! So sorry to hear. A
shame you’ve had no chance to enjoy your freedom.”

“
Well, it was nice … for a
day. We went up to the Dolomites, but then—”

“
We’re at war, James,” said
Bern, gripping my hand like it was an eel he didn’t want to slip
away.

“
I noticed.”

“
Losing badly too, I must
say.”

“
What they did up there …
it’s really awful.”

“
Our life up top was too
good to be true,” said Bern. “Too good to last. A paradise
lost.”

“
Not so fast,” said Lille.
“The fat lady has yet to sing. Nor the thin lady, for that
matter.”

“
The will be the seventh …
count them … seventh cabin I’ve built in the Liminality since
before the old Burg. This time, at least, I think we have perfected
the layout.”

“
Yes dear. This will be the
best one yet,” said Lille, wrapping an arm around Bern. “If only we
can get these roots to cooperate. They’re so damned
stubborn!”

“
So how have you been,
James?” said Bern.

“
I’m … okay.”

Lille and Bern shared a
glance.

“
And Karla?” said Lille.
“How is she?”

“
She’s missing.”

“
What?”

“
I got up the other morning
and she was gone.”

“
Where did she go?” said
Lille.

“
I have no idea. She just …
disappeared.”

“
Well, that certainly
explains how you got here,” said Bern. “Nothing like a bit of loss
to get the roots sniffing after your tail.”

“
There has to be more to
this story,” said Lille. “Young women don’t simply
vanish.”

“
I mean, we went looking
for Izzie. Maybe her dad kidnapped her. But then again, she was mad
at me. She kept wanting me to come here … but I was
blocked.”

“
Come here? To do what?”
said Bern. The row of roots he had been attempting to train was
already beginning to sag.

“
Exactly!”

“
So you had a little spat,”
said Lille.

“
Just a disagreement. No
big deal. Nothing that should have made her leave me. She left no
note. Nothing. Just up and disappeared. Didn’t even take her shoes
with her.”

“
Oh no. That doesn’t sound
good.”

“
Yeah, I know. That’s why I
can’t rule out the bad stuff.”

Lille shared another glance with Bern,
their bows creased.

“
Are you hungry?” said
Lille. “We’ve already had our dinner, but—”

“
I’m fine, actually. I
fixed myself some ... roots. A bit muddy but they were
good.”

Lille gave me a cockeyed
look.

“
Well, don’t just stand
there on the other side of the fence. Come and sit with us a
bit.”

“
I should probably go and
see Luther.”

“
Oh, the old man can wait.
He’s busy grilling his scouts.”

***

I followed Bern and Lille onto the
porch and took a seat on a sprawling wicker armchair. They hadn’t
taken any pains to conceal the appearance of the raw roots that
comprised the faux rattan.

Bern caught me staring out into space.
“James? Are you okay?”

“
I’m just … in a little bit
of shock. I mean, between what happened with Karla and all that
God-awful mess above.”

“
It was too good to last,”
said Bern. “Life was good on the surface. Luther and Yaqob had
become best chums. The Frelsians were behaving themselves, staying
on their mountain. The new Burg was becoming a humming metropolis
before the Seraphs came with their Cherubs and dissonance
engines.”

“
But the new, new Burg is
coming along just swell,” said Lille. “It will be like old times
before you know it. Maybe even better. Luther has become almost…
can you believe it? Sane.”

“
True,” said Bern. “No more
freak shows. He limits himself to two legs now. And his ego has
shriveled to almost human proportions. It is really quite amazing
to see.”

A patch of roots had come loose from
the floor and were attempting to flee. Lille picked up a broom and
swept them off the porch.

“
Let me put on some tea. I
can offer some biscuits as well, but I’m afraid you might find them
a little tough. The roots around here are all terribly refractory
to weaving. They’ve never been shaped, apparently. It’s all virgin
territory.”

She put away the broom and slipped
inside the cabin while Bern took a seat beside me on a
rocker.

“
She’s not the same you
know,” he said, his voice hushed.

“
Lille?”

“
Yes. She’s changed. She’s
mostly still there, but they’ve changed her. She’s a different
person. She doesn’t remember everything. She carries … false
memories. They changed her … her … soul.”

“
But she seems like the old
Lille to me.”

“
She is mostly. But I see
the changes. I suspect they did the same to your mum.”

“
My mother was worse. Way
worse. She didn’t even remember me.”

Dishes clattered and Bern stiffened
and looked away. Lille brought out the tea in little china cups,
chipped and cracked. Her tea was intense and delicious as ever, but
clear as spring water.

“
Do you guys know anything
about the Friends of Penult?”

“
Friends?” said Bern. “I
wouldn’t have thought Penult would have had any friends,” said
Bern. “Not after what they’ve done up top.”

“
They’re on the other side.
They … uh … they didn’t want me to come here. I wonder what they’ll
once they find out I came.”

“
Well, that’s bad news,”
said Lille. “If they’re active on the other side. I mean, I knew
Frelsi had Facilitators. I even contracted one for a time. But
Penult? That’s very bad news indeed that they can meddle on both
sides of the wall.”

“
They’re powerful, James,”
said Bern. “You saw what they did. If I didn’t know better I would
have taken that power for the hand of God.”

“
You’re sure it’s
not?”

“
Yes,” said Bern. “I’m
sure. Don’t ask me how. But I’m sure.”

A wave of queasiness swept over me. I
thought it was the beginning of a fade, but I help up my hand and
it looked as solid as ever.

“
Just so you guys know I
don’t expect to be here much longer,” I said. “I could fade any
minute now. I can feel it coming.”

“
Not before you finish your
tea, I hope. You only just got here.”

“
Nah, I’ve been here a
while. A lot longer than I expected.”

“
You’ll visit again soon, I
hope?” said Bern.

“
Bern, don’t wish the boy
ill.”

“
I’m just thinking, with
Miss Karla gone and all, maybe….”

“
Perhaps she’s already
returned and waiting for James at home.”

“
Do you think?” I
said.

“
Of course!” said
Lille.

“
I can’t help wondering if
maybe she ran off to make me think something bad happened to her, I
mean just to get me here.”

“
We can only hope that’s
the case,” said Lille. “Though I don’t understand why she would
want you here.”

“
She’s done with life, she
says. She wants us to be Freesouls.”

“
What? A healthy young
couple like you with your whole life ahead and everything left to
live for? I don’t understand. Root is meant for damaged souls who
want to go on living, or experience some reasonable facsimile
thereof. It’s an upgrade for folks like me and Bern and … Luther.
For you and Karla? I just don’t see the attraction.”

“
It’s the Weaving,” said
Bern. “The magic. You can’t have that on the other
side.”

“
On the contrary. I hear
James can weave in both worlds, if I understand that right. I heard
he can parquet floors into timber monsters.”

“
Who told you
that?”

Lille cocked her head at me and
smiled. “A little bird. Before Penult attacked, while you were
still in prison, Karla used to come by fairly often. She used to
roam the tunnels checking every pod for Isobel. She would stay with
us up top, until she faded back.”

“
She came back just the
other day,” I said. “Before she disappeared. Did you happen to see
her?”

Bern and Lille looked at each other
and shook their heads.

“
No,” said Lille. “She
probably doesn’t know we’ve retreated below the surface, dear. We
didn’t exactly leave any forwarding address. I’m surprised
you
found us.”

“
Thanks to Kitt,” I
said.

A man and a dog came appeared on the
lane that led from the denser part of the settlement and approached
the picket fence.

The man waved. Bern waved back. The
man removed a loose picket and they slipped through the gap,
trampling the roots Bern had attempted to transform, which now lay
flat against the dense mat that formed the base and walls of the
bubble.

The German shepherd had a stiff and
jerky gait. He was clearly one of Luther’s automatons.

“
Be on your best behavior,
Bern,” said Lille. “Remember, this one is sensitive.”

“
I’ll give him
sensitive.”

“
No Bern. You don’t want to
get on Luther’s bad side again.”

“
Who is this guy?” I
whispered.

“
He’s a member of Luther’s
war council,” said Lille.

“
Luther has an army
now?”

“
A squad of thugs is a more
apt description. They pose no threat to Penult, I assure you
that.”

“
Hello!” said the man.
“Mind if I join you?” He was neatly groomed. He wore a cardigan
over a plaid shirt, and olive green cargo pants with pockets on the
knees.

“
So long as you take care
not to trample my zinnias, thank you.”

“
Zinnias?” He looked down
at the matted roots under his feet.

“
Never mind Bern. Those
zinnias are merely wishful thinking on his part.”

The man and his dog came to the table.
The dog stared at me. Its eyes looked dead, yet it panted and
wagged like a real dog. I crouched down and scratched him behind
his ears. “Does this one talk?”

“
Only in emergencies,” said
the man. “Mr. Luther has taken to keeping them muted. Some of the
community found their speech capabilities a little
off-putting.”

“
Count me among them,” said
Bern.

Lille gave up her chair and went
inside to fetch another. “Care for some tea, councilor?”

“
No, thank you,” he said.
“I’m actually here to see Mr. Moody.”

Lille paused. “Oh?”

“
Hello, I’m Alec Meredith,”
he said, extending his hand for me to shake. “I’ve heard a lot
about you. Mr. Luther is requesting the honor of your presence in
his war chamber.”

“
Honor?”

“
I’m afraid it’s urgent
that you accompany me.”

“
You’d best go, James,”
said Lille. “We don’t want Master Luther to throw another
tantrum.”

“
Patience is not the man’s
best attribute,” agreed Bern.

Chapter 18: The War
Chamber

Neither Mr. Meredith nor his dog had
much to say as we picked our way through the winding lanes and
alleys of this burgeoning underground shanty town. He was friendly
with the locals but he seemed nervous around me, avoiding eye
contact, sneaking glances as if I were George Clooney or
something.

We paused at the edge of a broad open
space surrounded by a motley collection of misshapen huts. The
crudeness of every habitation confirmed the difficulty of Weaving
in this virgin corner of the underworld. The outlines of would-be
paving stones were etched by indentations in the surface of the
densely matted roots. This was to become the main
square.

“
That would be the palace,”
said Mr. Meredith, pointing at a complex of lopsided blobs that had
all the grace of a heap of turds. It was a far cry from the careful
recreation of a grand gothic church that Luther had called home in
the original Luthersburg.

The buildings adjoining it were even
less elegant, many had no roofs, no that a roof was necessary in a
place that never rained. A scattering of Hemisouls labored on
scaffolds, shaping the walls bit by bit. Some stalls had been set
up at one end and people came to barter crafts for clothing,
comestibles and newsletters printed on sheets of thick felt-like
paper.