Phoenix Burning (7 page)

Rahul jumped on to the shore behind the captain. “I’m coming with you,” he called. “At least to the gates. Uma insisted.”

As the captain nodded his agreement, Toby followed Ayla on to the pier and looked around.

To his left another two teenagers were clambering over the rocks; a girl with shoulder-length blond waves and a boy whose hair was almost exactly the same length and texture, but black. At the same moment the pair looked up and Toby blinked at the matching blue stares. Their chins were tilted at the exact same angle, their narrow forearms raised to protect their eyes from the sun.

“A matching pair,” Ayla lowered her voice as she scoped them out. A small rowing boat rocked behind them, tied
up against the jetty. Inside a woman with eyes like chips of blue topaz was waving at the twins.

Toby caught up with Ayla. “How can we compete with twins? They’ve got to be who the sun worshippers are looking for. What could be more perfect?”

A shadow passed over Ayla’s eyes.

The captain caught up with them. “We knew there would be other candidates arriving today. They look good, but you and Ayla look good, too. And if they choose based on hair colour alone, Rita’s blond is brighter than the girl’s. Don’t second-guess.”

“And if we’re not picked?” Toby clenched his fists. Until now, he hadn’t entertained the thought that they might not even get past the first hurdle.

“We think of something else,” the captain replied.

Rahul put an arm around Toby’s shoulder. “Let’s find out where you have to go.” He nodded upwards. Ahead of them, standing at the end of the pier, a single brother stood. The light bounced from his bowed head and a pendant showing what looked like the Solaris logo dangled in front of long grey robes. He looked up as they approached.

“
Benvenuto
. Welcome.” He raised one hand as if to prevent them from coming nearer. “You are here for the festival?” He looked particularly at Rita and Toby and
offered a thin smile. “You are quite late. The choosing begins in two hours – when the sun is at its highest.”

Ayla stepped to Toby’s side. “That’s why we’re here.” The beads in her hair clattered and the brother blinked.

“Two couples then.” The brother glanced at D’von who was standing next to Rita, obviously unsure whether or not to take her arm.

“Trois.” As one, the twins marched in front of Toby and Ayla.

“Three,” the girl corrected her brother. “English, Adrien.”

“Yes, Adele.” He looked sideways at Toby. “We are here to be chosen.” He nodded at the man’s pendant. “Praise Soleil.”

The man’s head dipped in acknowledgement and Ayla stiffened.

The captain’s deep voice replied, “Of course. Praise the Sun.” He slid swiftly between Ayla and the twins. “Where is it our couples need to go?”

The brother gestured in the direction of a narrow path that led up the cliff edge that bisected the island.

“Let’s go then.” The captain hustled them towards the path, Rahul dropped back to shadow them. Once more the brother raised his hand.

“The applicants go alone.”

The captain looked back at the French mother sitting in her boat. His lips pressed together. She had already known.

Adele and Adrien marched on with their eyes fixed on the sunlit belfry.

“It’s all right,” Toby said as the captain pulled him to one side.

“I thought I’d be saying goodbye up there.” Barnaby tilted his head to indicate the main entrance.

“Either way it’s the same,” Ayla said.

The captain ignored her. “Be careful, Toby.” He gave him a swift, tight hug. Then he looked at Rita and D’von. “You, too.” He stared at Ayla for a long moment. “You remember your cover stories?”

“Of course.” Ayla looked insulted.

“Then look after each other,” he said.

Rahul shook Toby’s hand. “Good luck.” He clapped D’von on the shoulder.

“We won’t set sail until tomorrow,” the captain started back towards the ship. “Just in case.”

“You mean in case we don’t get in,” Rita muttered.

The captain nodded. “Assuming you
do
get in I’ll send Rahul with the little boat,
Wren
, to watch the northernmost point of the island – just in case you get out early. We’ll have to anchor the
Phoenix
off Malta first, and Rahul has to sneak into position without being
spotted, so it’ll be a day or two before he’s looking for you. Until then you’re on your own. If Rahul doesn’t pick you up, the
Phoenix
will be back for the festival.”

Toby smiled. “We’ll be fine.” He moved to Ayla’s side. “We’ll be eating good food, relaxing in the sun and looking for the inverters when everyone else is asleep. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m going to enjoy the break.” Rita stretched. “Come on, D’von.” She shoved the big teen ahead of her towards the pathway.

Toby squeezed his father’s hand. “See you in three weeks.”

The captain pounded up the gangplank and Toby looked one last time at the
Phoenix
. The giant ship rose and fell on the tide, her rusting orange hull like a piece of evening sunlight that rested on the sea.

He turned back to the pathway; Rita and D’von were racing ahead. He fell into step with Ayla and together they followed their crewmates, only swaying slightly now with the stillness of the land.

The path they climbed wound along the jagged cliff. At first Toby’s bare toes kicked up sand as he walked, but the sand gradually turned to dust. When he looked over the cliff edge he could see houses, like teeth, submerged beneath the waves. Gaping roofs and landslides of tile and brick were revealed and then hidden by salt spray and clumps of rubbish that had passed through the dam. Through one unbroken window he could see a drowned living room: children’s toys floating against the pane – a doll with her arm outstretched, as if pleading for rescue.

He shuddered and turned to Ayla; she faced the sanctuary. Now that he was closer, Toby could see patterns cut into the grey concrete wall. Sunbursts covered the stone; some of them carved deeply, others mere scratches. Some of the images glittered with shining stones, had glass embedded in the centre, or long rays made from chains of beads. Directly ahead the path forked; one way –
their way – headed into a low archway that bisected the wall, the other led into a formation of houses.

The properties were squat, with no chimneys; what would be the point in a world where combustibles had all but vanished?

The walls were whitewashed and there were no trees planted in the wide streets. Everything was designed to reflect the sun.

The streets remained silent as they passed the fork; no voices greeted them, no eyes followed their path.

“Where is everybody?” Toby whispered.

“When you get past the ports and go inland, this is what most land is like,” Ayla replied. “Almost everyone died from wars, disease or starvation. You reckon there’re a lot of people on land because you’ve only seen the docks, but that’s just where most people ended up. Inland it’s like this almost everywhere.”

“But there must be people here somewhere, you said—”

“They’re all sun worshippers and today’s a big day. They’ll be up there.” Ayla pointed. “Waiting for us.”

Toby exhaled. “Do you think we’re the last to arrive? How many couples do you think are up there?”

Ayla smiled. “At least
trois
.” She pointed as Adele and Adrien passed through the arch, D’von and Rita close behind them. “Are you ready for this?” She adjusted
the collar of her jacket. “How do I look?”

Toby cleared his throat. “You look fine.” He stared at his filthy feet. “Me?”

Ayla used her palm to brush a rain of grit from his hair. “You look fine, too.”

“OK.” Toby held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

Ayla closed her fingers around his arm. “It’ll be like catching lobsters in a pot,” she said.

Inside the archway, Toby found himself facing another wall. As his eyes adjusted he saw a solid gate.

“This must be where deliveries are left.” Ayla indicated a hatch with a nod of her head. Toby nodded and she knocked.

The hatch creaked open and a second brother stared out at them. This one had blond hair, paler and shorter even than Toby’s. “State your business with the Solar Order,” he said in a Gozoan accent.

“We’re here for the festival.” Ayla gestured at Toby. “He’s the Sun.”

The brother cracked a lopsided smile. “Of course he is.” He vanished from the hatch and Toby heard the creak of bolts being drawn. Then the gate opened and Toby gasped. Ignoring the brother altogether, he stepped into a square as big as the deck of the
Phoenix
, drawn by the building that faced him.

The stone of the old Catholic cathedral was pale; golden in the noon sun and Toby could see watermarks halfway up each pillar where the building had stood against the battering of the sea.

A larger-than-life-size statue of the Virgin Mary raised her arms in an alcove above a vast vaulted door that would once have been made of wood, but was now a mish-mash of sun-burned metal. The iconic statue now sported a bright copper sunburst on her head. Covering half-seen coats of arms, more images of the sun surrounded the doors.

On the top of the building was the giant circle of bronze that they had seen from the
Phoenix
. Toby shaded his eyes with his free arm.

“There’re the people.” Ayla pulled Toby past a crowd of native Gozitans. Gathered behind a cordon, they leaned close to watch them pass; hollow-eyed and hungry-looking. When their murmuring rose, Toby edged further away and looked for Rita and D’von.

Rita’s bright hair stood out even in the crowd of younger teens gathered around her.

“Did you expect so many?” Toby muttered under his breath.

Ayla swallowed. “Of course.” But she didn’t meet his eyes.

They walked over to the large group. Toby was taken aback by the differences in the shades of blond and dark that faced him. The variations ranged from a girl with dark blond, almost brown hair that was cut into a short mohawk, to a true white-haired albino boy whose pink eyes followed Toby as he came to a stop.

The youngest of their competitors, a delicate-looking doll of a girl, seemed no older than thirteen.

Toby looked at Rita, trying to view her with a critical eye. Was her age noticeable to the others? She was eight years older than Toby, but seemed younger than that. Toby wasn’t sure if she could pass for an old-looking sixteen, but she and D’von did make a good pair. Toby waited for a twinge of jealousy, but felt none. He was completely over his youthful crush. He looked sideways at Ayla, who stood next to him. “Now what?”

“We wait,” she replied. “They make their selection at midday, remember? There’s a sundial if you want to track it.”

Toby couldn’t take his eyes from the line of the sundial. He was not the only one. The crowd behind the cordon tracked the moving shadow, with pointing fingers and restless eyes. And as it drew nearer to the centre of the square, the murmuring of the other pairs quietened, enough
for him to be able to make out individual conversations.

“Praise the Sun.” His chin jerked up at the almost defiantly angry tone. A boy with dark hair so fine that it stuck to his head in sweaty streaks stood before a swarthy teen whose crater-marked face told Toby he had suffered a pox and ignored anyone who had told him not to scratch.

The younger boy had clenched fists and, even though his words were prayerful, he spoke through gritted teeth.

“You’re such a dupe,” the older boy sneered. “You believe all this sun crap.”

“Why are
you
here?” the younger boy raged. “This is a festival for worshippers of the Sun, non-believers shouldn’t be here.”

“Ha!” The swarthy boy cracked his knuckles.

His companion, a wispy-looking blond, narrowed her eyes. “Obviously, we’re here for the money.” She rubbed her hands together.

“What money?” Toby looked at Ayla.

She looked mystified. “Sebastiane didn’t say anything about money.”

“You should be here for the glory of the Sun,” the younger boy insisted. “Not for your own gain.”

Toby realized that the watchers nearest them had fallen silent and were listening as intently as he.

“You have to admit the money helps.” Another girl,
whose hair was a dark brown mass of straw, spoke with a thick Hungarian accent. “We’re here for the glory of the Sun.” She looked at the younger combatant. “But would we be here if it wasn’t for the promise of the stipend for our family?” She shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“If they offer us money, we will turn it down,” the boy spat. “Is that not right, Lenka?”

“Yes, Matus. Those of us left in Croatia know the meaning of true devotion.” The girl’s fine blond hair looked as if she had poked a finger in a socket. It stuck up around her head in a flyaway mass that matched her wide, shocked-looking eyes and two permanent worry lines that sat between her eyebrows.

The crowd murmured its approval and the small group realized they had been overheard. The straw-headed Hungarian tossed her hair and swaggered closer. Toby saw with a jolt that her nails were possibly the longest he had ever seen, like claws. How did she do any work?

“We understand devotion,” she snapped, raising her voice for the benefit of the audience. “But we also know how to survive. The more of us who live to worship the Sun, the greater the glory of the Orb.”

“Ha! The Order will see through your contempt for the Sun’s glory.”

“A bunch of idiots who went blind staring at the sky
– I don’t think so.” The crater-faced young man laughed and his companion joined in. The Hungarian couple looked nervous and backed away, swiftly disassociating themselves as the crowd’s quiet developed a hostile edge.

“A bunch of idiots?” The voice that hissed out over the square ended in a sibilance that sent chills down Toby’s spine. When Toby turned he saw a man with the milky eyes of the sunblind, facing the mocking speaker as though he could see him.

“I am Father Dahon. Come to face me,” the man whispered.

The young man and his wispy companion looked at one another.

“I will not repeat myself.” Although he didn’t move, the father’s anger seemed to make him grow in size. Toby stared at him. He had a low widow’s peak and his black hair was oiled back from his brow. His face and hands were deeply tanned, but the arms that protruded from his long sleeves were as pale as his eyes.

The swarthy boy with the terrible skin finally recovered his bluster. He dragged his companion to the front of the group.

“We didn’t mean—” she began.

“Silence.” The father turned to someone behind them. “Are these good candidates?”

From deep in the shadows behind the father a woman appeared. Her eyes were so deeply overhung by her sockets that Toby couldn’t tell what colour they were. Her cheekbones protruded almost as far as her forehead and her lips were so thin and colourless that Toby could barely see them move when she answered.

“The blond is average in colouration; she would make a middling Sun.”

The girl gasped and her partner kicked her into quiet.

“Neither would the boy be any loss.”

The crowd jeered its approval and the couple flinched as their disdain rolled over them.

The father turned back to the couple. “Leave.”

“W-what?” the young man protested. “You can’t do that. We have no way off the island.”

“Then we will allow you to remain on Gozo until the pilgrimage, when you should be able to find passage. You had better hope that you are a better fisher than a devotee. And, as all who live on the island must abide by our rules, we will expect to receive three-quarters of all you catch and mandatory prayers at sunrise, noon and sunset in the island’s centre. You will be watched.”

The father raised his head as if to look past them, dismissing the couple from his world as effectively as though he had erased them altogether. The crowd
clapped as they stumbled out of the area reserved for the candidates.

Toby leaned close to Ayla, hoping that she had learned the same lesson he had. “Praise the Sun,” he said, pointedly.

Ayla nodded. “Praise the Sun.”

“I am Mother Hesper.” The woman spoke almost reluctantly, as though her name was precious knowledge that she was squandering by saying it out loud. “Before we enter the sanctuary –” she raised her right hand and spread her skeletal fingers and Toby realized she was making an approximation of the sun’s rays – “we require you to allow attendants to wash your hair.” She gestured and a line of fully sighted men and women appeared, each carrying a sloshing bucket of water. Each wore identical knee-length robes and sandals made from tyre rubber. “If you must address an attendant, you can do so as Brother or Sister.”

“Is she serious?” Toby blinked.

“I suspect she’s always serious.” The boy who answered him was as large as D’von. His dark curls formed a line along his forehead. “I’m Arthur.” His voice was deep. He held out his hand.

“Toby.” Toby shook and smiled. “We don’t know much about this ritual.”

“Your missionary didn’t tell you?”

Ayla spoke before Toby could answer. “He died before
he gave us all the details. But from the little he told us, we knew it was something we both very much wanted. Praise the Sun.”

“Well, Summer knows everything it’s possible to know. She studied and studied under our minister.” Arthur shifted and Toby saw the tiny blond doll he had noticed before. “We’re from Cornwall. I heard your accent, you’re St George?”

Swiftly Ayla shook her head. “We’re from Saunders,” she said coldly.

“Where’s that?” Even the girl’s voice was tiny; a squeak, like that of a squeezable toy.

“The Falklands,” Toby added, confident in this part of the backstory they had planned. “It’s basically a big sheep farm.”

“And that’s why you sound Georgian.” Arthur nodded. “No offence but we seceded from St George a few years ago and there’s still a lot of resentment.”

“Too right. Who doesnae hate th’ Georgians?”

Toby spun, alarmed, and came face to face with the lanky freckled girl he had seen earlier, whose dirty-blond hair rose above her head in sharpened spikes. She was eyeing him with deep suspicion. “You sure ye arenae Georgian? Ye sound like it.”

“We hate the Georgians as much as you do,” Ayla
snapped. “Believe me.”

The girl must have seen something in Ayla’s face because she sniffed, mollified. “All right. Our dads died in th’ North Brine wars, see – mine and Brody’s. They were brothers.” She gestured to an equally freckly, stocky boy. Brody’s hair was as darkly brown as the girl’s was blond. “I’m Moira.”