The Shadow and Night (87 page)

He gave a pathetic little moan. “Son,” he said, suddenly turning a lined and worried face to Merral, “I'm getting old and I don't like it.”

Merral, almost too overcome to say anything, just patted him on the shoulder.

“It's not you, Father,” he said finally. “Nor Mother either. There is just something wrong. But we are working on it. We are doing our best.”

His eyes watering, his father nodded. “I hope so. Well, I'm tired. Have been for months. I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.”

After breakfast, Merral walked over the causeway to the Institute with a heavy heart. There he sat down at his desk to try to plan what he wanted to do in the next day and a half. He decided he had to go to Herrandown. It was there that things had started, and Merral felt that what was happening there now might be some guide to how great the risk to Farholme was. He went to see Henri to ask him whether he could borrow a vehicle to visit Herrandown. Henri shook his head and smiled. “
Ach,
man, I can do better than that,” he offered. “There is a rotorcraft due to fly near there tomorrow. It's been delayed by the dust, but the weather's supposed to be clear tomorrow. I can arrange for you to be dropped off and picked up on the return leg. Is a couple of hours long enough?”

After talking briefly about other matters, Merral left Henri and returned to his office, where he called Isabella and arranged to meet her that evening. He felt he needed to see Jorgio and called his brother to find out where he was.

“That's easy,” said Daoud Serter. “He's over by you; probably at the stables.”

“So he's not up at Wilamall's Farm then?”

“Didn't you know? Not now. But he'll tell you.”

Merral walked out of the back of the Institute building, looking for Jorgio. He found the old stable hand stroking one of the horses in the stalls.

“Jorgio!” Merral called out.

“Mister Merral,” said the old man, turning awkwardly. They embraced. “Good to see you.”

“So you heard about Brenito?”

“I heard.” He shook his head slowly. “A nice man. He'll be welcomed up there and missed down here.” He made a soft clucking noise. “I hope as I helped him. The Lord told me as we were talking that he had only a few more days. So I felt I'd better tell him.”

“I think it allowed him to sort things out.”

“See, that was the point. I think
he
was ready; but I've no doubt folks like him have plenty of things to sort out.”

“Indeed. But what are
you
doing here?”

Jorgio shook his head. “I've finished at the farm.”

“Finished?”

“Yes,” Jorgio said, and his distorted face bore a look of deep unhappiness. “Been a change of plan. It's a matter of resources, they say. No Gate now, so new priorities. They don't need people like me there; they need fewer, fitter people.”

“I'm shocked,” Merral said, genuinely astonished but remembering that Teracy had warned of changes. “I'm very surprised. I knew nothing of it. But then, I'm in the wrong part of forestry.”

“It's a new decision,” Jorgio added. “So I'm back down in the town with my brother. I'll move my things down soon enough.”

Merral felt annoyed with himself. Having promised Brenito he would keep a watch on Jorgio, he now found that the man had been uprooted and he hadn't realized it.

“Of course,” Jorgio continued, “I've still my allowance, the same as you. I just don't have anything to do. So I reckoned as I'd come here and see the horses.”

“Welcome. But I had no idea,” Merral said.
It is worrying. If we are no longer concerned about our weak, then what has happened to us?
Here was yet another small piece of evidence that Farholme was changing for the worse.

“It's the way things is. There's a shadow over us all now, Mister Merral. But what are
you
doing?”

“Me? I work here.”

“
Tut.
If you please, Mister Merral, I know better than that. You are struggling over something.”

Merral stared hard at Jorgio, wondering if his conflicts were that visible or whether there was some other gift at work. “Truly said, my old friend. I have a hard choice to make. I am hoping that before tomorrow evening I will see and hear enough to make my decision about what to do very plain.”

“You're worried what to do about them, aren't you? I don't blame you. Fighting 'em can't be much fun. Not from what I knows about them.”

Merral stared at the old man, wondering yet again how he knew so much. “No, it's not fun, Jorgio,” he answered. “And do you have any advice?”

“
Tut!
You want me to make your decisions?” he said, raising a rough finger in warning, but there was both warmth and sympathy in his expression. “You must make them yourself.”

Then, to Merral's surprise, the old man closed his eyes and fell silent, his big lips moving slightly. After a few moments, he suddenly opened his eyes.

“There. I've done what I can do. I 'ave just prayed as you'll find out very clearly what you have to do.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, you may not thank me.” There was a curiously distorted smile, revealing his displaced teeth. “You may find out more about the evil than you want.”

Jorgio fell into a tight-lipped silence that seemed to discourage further questions.

“Thank you,” Merral answered eventually, both gratified and disturbed by the conversation.

“My pleasure,” came the response. “I'll continue to pray. And promise—if you decide to fight, let me know. I'll ask that you'll have help.”

“Help?”

The look on the broken face became strangely intense. “If you please, you'll need help against them.” He muttered to himself, “Knives and guns won't do. Not for
them.
” Merral found something oddly dogmatic about his tone. “Not for them all anyway. Not the one in the chamber. And that's the one that matters.”

“I see; the one in the chamber, the one that matters,” Merral said. “Can you tell me anything more?”

“No.” There was a stiff shake of the head. “Don't know any more. Don't really want to. Nasty. But Mister Merral, don't be surprised at what you find there.” He wrinkled his face. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off.”

“A moment, Jorgio. Brenito was anxious that I kept an eye on you. Please don't leave Ynysmant. If you have to travel, leave a message with Daoud.”

“
Tut,
me travel?” Jorgio smiled. “Hardly. But may the Lord's blessings be with you, Mister Merral.”

Then he shook hands roughly with Merral and in his determined, tilted way set off walking toward the town.

Merral watched him go, then, full of bewilderment and foreboding, walked back down to his office.

That evening, Merral met Isabella at her house and, after some discussion, they decided to take a stroll along the town's lake-edge walk. The walk was popular in summer when the nights were shorter and hotter, but this evening it was still too cool for many people to be about, and for much of the way, Merral and Isabella were on their own.

As they walked along, Merral sensed that Isabella was in a strange mood. There was a hint of a carefree, almost reckless frame of mind in the way she bounced down the steps and swung round lampposts. In contrast to her, Merral felt slow, leaden, and preoccupied.

“I was wondering whether you would make time to see me,” she said in a light but purposeful tone. “You seem to be so busy.” Merral caught a gleam of inquiry on her face.

“Yes,” he answered. “I'm sorry. I hardly seem to know whether I'm here or there. I went to Isterrane just for the day yesterday.”

“My! It must have been important,” Isabella said, peering intently at him. “I wish I could do that. I find Ynysmant just so limiting. So what was it? Intruder business, of course.”

Merral looked around, but there was no one who might overhear. “Possibly. But I'd rather not discuss it.”

Isabella gave a girlish pout. “A
secret,
eh? We all have secrets now. Well, I suppose we can live with them. In fact, I quite like the idea. Openness can get dull, can't it?”

“Can it?” Merral countered, sensing that yet another area of difficulty was about to open up. “Well, I suppose a lot of worthwhile things can, in theory, get dull. But it was never something that worried me.”

“Well, it did me.” She grabbed his hand. “But I suppose I do feel uneasy at the way I am being pushed to the margins of your life. I mean, Vero and this Anya and Perena know
everything.
But I don't.”

“I've told you lots. More than I should have.”

“But there are limits. And there's lots I ought to know. I'm now heading up the new priorities team. Did I tell you?”

“No. That's new. I thought it was someone else.”

“It was, but she didn't realize how much work there was, and she has two children. So I had a chat with her and she has stepped down.”

“I see. So you now report directly to Warden Enatus?”

“Exactly. And I think we ought to be told about the intruders. I mean if they came south we'd be on the front line. Is that the term?”

“I think so; Vero would know. But you do make a point. I'll have a chat with Vero—I'm seeing him again soon.”

“No doubt. But I'd appreciate it if you could raise the concern. I feel as if I am being cut out of your life. You seem to be so busy.” There was recrimination in her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” Merral answered, feeling her hurt and the validity of her argument. “Perhaps things will settle down. But what I'm doing is very important. As is what you do.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, but to Merral her response sounded very automatic.

Then they stopped and together leaned over a stone parapet, peering at the waters of the lake. Isabella was so close to Merral that he could feel her shoulder gently touching his. He was, he decided suddenly, really very fond of her.

“Merral,” she asked, “when are you leaving again? And for how long?”

She isn't going to like this.
He stared at the ink-dark waters of the lake. “Well, tomorrow evening. And I could be away maybe for a week or more.”
Or forever, if I decide to lead an attack and pay the price.

“Oh—,” came the response, full of surprise and even hurt. “But there is a lot we have to discuss, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, I just feel,” she said, her words soft and tentative as if she was expressing something for the very first time, “that, in the light of our understanding, our relationship needs to be bonded more closely. And with you so—well—distracted, it's hard.”

“Yes, it is, isn't it?” Merral said, choosing his words carefully.
So,
he thought with a pang of unhappiness,
she has reminded me again that she sees our “understanding” as a private equivalent of a commitment.
He wondered, for the hundredth time, how he could try and retreat from that position.

Suddenly there was a noise to his left and he looked up. A crowd of perhaps a dozen teenage boys, all in the same kind of light gray trousers and jackets, came by in an excited and chaotic circle. They were joking noisily, jostling each other and taking turns to run up and down the sloping wall with squeals and shouts.
Have teenagers always been so rowdy?
Merral wondered.
And why are they trying to dress so much alike
?
Or am I now seeing shadows that are not there?

After they went past, he saw Isabella looking at him, her face strangely pale in the light of the streetlamps.

“Oh, Merral,” she said in her softest voice, “you know Helga Demaitre, works over in Communications? Lives in Lazent Street by the market?”

“I know her elder brother better. Why?”