The Canticle of Whispers (26 page)

He began to slow, the mud sucking at his boots. Something was muttering in his mind, telling him to turn back. That Lily didn't want to be found. That she would laugh at him for following her. That he was useless, worthless … not worthy of her attention …

A cloud of insects billowed up from the ground. Laud jumped back, swatting at them, and his thoughts cleared.

“Don't bother,” he snarled at the fog. “I've been through worse than you, Nightmare. I'm not going to be put off so easily.”

He planted his feet and focused on one thing. Lily. Her face, her voice, her uncrushable spirit. The way he remembered her.

“Lily!” he called.

His voice was swallowed up by the fog.

He trudged on. The fog suffocated him. He could see nothing, except for its long white tendrils. The mud beneath him grew soft and slushy, but he forced himself forward.

“Lily!” he called, over and over. “Lily!”

And then, suddenly, he heard her.

“You didn't bring flowers.”

The voice was almost a whisper, right next to his ear. Laud jumped, pitching forward into the mud.

“Have to bring flowers when you're visiting a lady. That's manners.”

Laud struggled to his feet, and turned back.

Lily stood lightly on the surface of the mud. Her skirt was streaked with the filth, and hung heavily from her thin frame. Her body swayed, as though in a stiff breeze. She laughed, but did it without smiling. And her eyes roved and turned in her head, never settling for an instant.

Laud looked at her, aghast. Something was wrong, so very wrong. The girl who looked like Lily leaned forward, peering at him.

“Flowers? Lilies? Lilies for the dead, and the near dead, and the always dead.” Her voice was strange and tight, but it flowed as though she didn't have a care in the world. “Flowers for the never alive, though? What would those be? Roses maybe. I wanted roses from you. Why did you never bring them?”

She unfolded her arms and reached out to touch his face. Laud noticed that her nails were bleeding.

“Lily?” he said, taking her hand, “I'm so glad I found you…”

“Found me? Did you?” Lily smiled. “Good. I've been looking for me all day.” She slapped his hand away. “Look, don't touch. I break easily.”

She spun around with surprising ease, and the fog closed around her.

“Lily?” Laud said, in alarm. “Lily, where are you?”

“Everywhere, stamped into this land, she is,” Lily's voice replied, growing fainter. “Can't get away from her. You'd think she was the only person in the world…”

Laud reached out for her, but all he could hear was her voice—light, high, and unnatural.

“Wait!” Laud said, running after her.

“Keep your thoughts nice and lush…” Lily sang. “It likes them that way. Full of fear, and regret…”

Lily reappeared in front of him, spinning on one foot.

“Lily…” Laud shouted. “Please, just stop and listen to me.”

“No thanks,” she said, lightly. “Listened too much already. Always looking for people to tell me things. Shouldn't have done that. Too much, you see. All full up. No more. No more.”

She stopped, suddenly tense, looking at the fog around her.

“It's coming again,” she said, quietly. “Don't stay. You won't like it.”

“What?” Laud said, shaking his head. “What do you…?”

Lily began to scream.

Laud grasped her, begging her to stop, but she kept on—louder and louder, until Laud had to let go and clamp his hands over his ears. But he couldn't block out that sound. So desperate, so pained—the fog around them seemed to shimmer with it, whirling around Lily as though it was dancing for joy.

And then, in an instant, Lily was quiet again. She smiled, in a vague way.

“That was less than usual,” she said, her voice rasping from the strain. “It must be getting bored with me.”

“Who?” Laud ventured, uncovering his ears. Lily blinked.

“The Nightmare, of course … aren't you…?” Her eyes widened in fear. “No, that can't be you … you're not here!”

She seized his hand, pulling it close to her eyes to inspect it.

“It looks real, smells real…” she licked his finger, still crusted with mud, and spat. “Tastes real too, I think. But it doesn't sound right. Laud would have talked more by now. He was never quiet. Always sharp, always bittersweet … not like salt and mud…”

Laud felt his mind cloud over again. He almost wanted to reply in kind, to let his mind roam like hers. To forget all the stress and danger, and chase her through the marshes, lost in her world.

But he couldn't. He needed her back.

“Lily, it's me,” he said, grasping her hand. “The real me.”

“Who is the real you, Laud?” she asked, her eyes focusing. “Do you know everything about yourself? Are you sure you haven't been someone else for as long as you can remember? Have you betrayed yourself, Laud?”

She let his hand drop.

“The betrayal of our fathers,” she said, solemnly. “They left us alone. Forsaken. All on our own, dancing to a music they stopped playing long ago. We could have been wonderful, with their guidance. But they left us. Left us to go wrong, to wallow in suffering, to never, never be able to put it right…”

Laud could see that he was losing her again. Her eyes were beginning to glaze.

“Lily, don't go,” he said. “You're not alone. I've followed you all this way.”

“No,” Lily said, shaking her head, whipping her matted hair back and forth. “Not really there, not real. Just a trick. Too sincere, too gentle. Not the Laud I know.”

Despite himself, Laud's eyebrow raised.

“You'd rather I made a comment about the mud? It looks like you've been wallowing in it…” Laud began, and then stopped. Lily had pulled something out of her apron that glittered in the dim light. A short, sharp, hunting knife.

“Have to fight the nightmares,” she said, quietly. “You usually crumble with a single touch. And if you're too solid, I'll just have to try a little harder.” Laud stepped back. “You know, I wish you were real.” Lily said, sadly. “I so wanted to see Laud again, more than anyone else. But you knew that. You always knew.”

She lunged forward. Laud dived to one side, but the mud slowed him down, and Lily's knife cut open the sleeve of his shirt. He grabbed for Lily's hand, trying to wrestle away the knife, but she fought back with terrible strength, flinging him to the ground. He lay, sinking into the marsh as she loomed over him.

Laud panicked. He tried to think of a way of proving that he was real, but all of his wits were deserting him. He couldn't look away from Lily's eyes—usually so calm and reassuring, but now desperate, on the verge of collapse. He couldn't think, couldn't reason. All he could think about was that look. He brought up his left arm to shield himself.

Lily raised the knife again. And stopped.

Her gaze was fixed on his arm. Or rather, on the old scar that was now exposed. A scar he had gotten protecting her from another madman, who had also thought that the world was nothing but an illusion.

The knife fell from her hands, and sank into the mud.

She looked down at Laud. Her eyes were full of tears.

“Laud? That's really you, isn't it?”

It was her voice—her real voice, tired and frightened, but nothing like the strange singing tone from before. Laud grabbed a thick clump of marsh weed, and hauled himself into a sitting position.

“Took you long enough to work that out,” he said, his voice shaking. As he spoke, the fog around them began to grow thicker, stroking them like living tendrils.

“You shouldn't stay here. I won't be myself for long,” Lily said, rapidly, gulping her tears away. “I get … flashes of truth. Real vision. I'm sorry Laud, you've come all this way and I'm not worth finding.”

“I'm not going to dignify that with a response,” Laud replied, struggling to his feet. “Come on, you need to get out of this marsh—away from the Nightmare. There's a sanatorium nearby; the scarred man said he could help.”

Lily shook her head.

“I'm not going.”

Laud frowned.

“I'll carry you if I need to.”

He reached for her, but Lily stepped back.

“You don't understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “The Nightmare won't let me go. It followed me from Naru. Whispering in the Canticle, laughing on the wind. Reminding me of what I did … of what I am…” Lily's eyes lost their focus, her breathing coming in short gasps. “All those people—in the village of Aecer, in the tunnels … All that death…”

Laud put his hands on the sides of her head, forcing her to look at him.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Is it that earthquake, back in Naru? That was the Oracle's fault; she was trying to stop you and she lost control…” He cradled her head. “You can't listen to this Nightmare … it's just trying to confuse you … it was an accident…”

“And the revolution in Agora?” Lily shouted, pushing his hands away. “Was that just an accident? The Nightmare set the echoes ringing in my head, every time I tried to sleep. Didn't you hear it, Laud? In the tunnel? Didn't you hear the battle cries, the panic? Just like Giseth … just like Naru … everywhere I go, I bring nothing but death!”

The fog was swirling around them now. There were shapes in that fog, shapes that Laud didn't want to look at too closely. Things with claws and teeth. Laud tried to focus on Lily, but his own fears were getting harder to ignore.
Ben will be back in Agora, by now
, said new whispers in the back of his head,
and Mark, and Theo. And you left them behind to follow this poor, mad girl. Will you ever have a home to go back to?

“All this time, I thought I was helping,” Lily continued, her voice more sad than scared. “Showing people a new way to think. That they didn't have to keep living the same mistakes, over and over again, fighting over scraps or suffocating each other with traditions. The future was ours, Laud. A proper future, where everyone would be whole … not empty, not searching for some purpose they'd never had…”

Lily began to shake, violently. For the first time, Laud noticed how thin she was, like a dream herself.

“Lily, just listen for a moment…” Laud said, desperately, but she didn't seem to hear him anymore.

“But this isn't my future. It's theirs,” she muttered, her voice growing frenzied as the Nightmare closed in. “The ancient Libran experiment, right on schedule. Who cares how many have to die? Who cares that they left us all alone? They won—and we're all paying the price.”

“Lily—”

“But what does it matter?” she asked, her voice fading in and out. Laud could feel the Nightmare now, slithering through the mud and air, settling on Lily like a haze. “We're not real. Not proper people. Who cares if we have mothers who are soulless machines and dead fathers who abandon us to fate, as long as the great project survives?” She laughed, harshly. “Such little lives, Laud. Walking our little paths until we drive ourselves into the dust, making patterns that no one is left to see…”

“Lily!”

“I wanted happiness, Laud,” she said, her voice resuming its high, mad whisper. “For me, for everyone. I thought my ideas could bring it. I didn't care who I sacrificed to bring about my world, because I was so
sure
. Just like them, those Librans. But it's all twisted. Every bit. A whole life of longing and I'm worse than the Nightmare, worse than Snutworth. At least they never thought they were doing good. But no one told me that the music stopped playing, the world's moved on, and I'm just twirling and sinking and dying and…”

“By all the stars, listen to yourself!” Laud grabbed her shoulders. “Do you really think it's all down to you?” Laud shouted. “You think the rest of us were just sitting around, waiting for the great Lilith to turn our world upside down?” He met her gaze, utterly serious. “You think everyone followed, and struggled, and died, just to please you? The Lily I remember wouldn't think that. The Lily I remember didn't care about prophecies, or anyone's ancient plans. She just rolled up her sleeves and got ready to help the next debtor who came through the door. Because that's what she did—help. All day, every day. Trying so hard she nearly forgot that she was only one person. One person with an amazing, inspiring idea.”

Lily stared back. There was a spark of her old self in those rolling eyes—frightened and unsure.

“But, everything I did … all that death in my name…”

“Which name?” Laud said, fiercely. “Lily the Antagonist? Lily the Revolutionary? Those aren't you. Good or bad, this is bigger than you now.” He put his face closer to hers, touching her forehead with his own. “This is you. It doesn't matter how many names you have, or who your parents were, or anything like that. It doesn't matter to me, or to Mark, or Ben, or Theo. You're Lily. You're good, and compassionate, and stubborn, and angry, and wonderful.” He brushed a strand of hair from her pinched, frightened face. “You're not perfect, and why would you want to be?” He looked her in the eyes. “But you're close enough for me.”

Lily held his gaze. For a few seconds, they said nothing. Laud felt the beating of her heart.

And then, she opened her mouth, and wailed.

It was a long, pained wail, like a baby's cry. And Laud drew her close, and held her. Held her until his ears rang and his heart shuddered. And all around them, the fog bucked and roiled and shivered with the sound.

Laud didn't let go. Not as her cry faded into a rasp, and then a sob.

“I … I…” Lily began, her voice weak.

“Aren't you ever going to let anyone else get a word in?” Laud asked her, fondly. Lily pulled back a little, her eyes clear, but immensely tired.