Nocturne Page 15

  “You know, don’t you,” Esty said in a strange, taut voice, “that Forth’s in love with you?”

  Indigo tensed; then, unsure of her ground, dissembled. “What do you mean?”

  Esty smiled. Again, it was a peculiar smile. “Oh, don’t think I mislike the idea. Not at all. It’s wonderful. But then, love is, isn’t it? We should never deny love, Indigo. That would be a terrible thing to do, don’t you agree?”

  And before Indigo could respond, Esty turned and, flinging back her coppery hair as though it had been newly released from confinement, walked away to where Forth was waiting for them.

  •CHAPTER•X•

  “Esty!” Forth’s voice was jarred with irritation. “Stop mithering and come on! There’s nothing here—you’re simply wasting time.”

  Esty’s shoulders hunched defensively, but she returned, picking her way though the black grass. She said nothing, only shot her brother a contemptuous glare, then turned her back and strode on.

  Forth stared at the rough tussock she’d been investigating, wondering exasperatedly what had caught her eye—or rather, her imagination—this time. He saw nothing unremarkable, and looked helplessly at Indigo as they set off after Esty’s retreating figure.

  “I don’t know what’s got into her,” he said in an aggrieved undertone. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think she’d been at the applejack.”

  It was yet another disquieting sign, Indigo thought. They’d been walking for what seemed like a good many hours; the pool had fallen far behind and even its nacreous aura was now out of sight; yet if anything, Esty’s peculiar mood had intensified rather than lessened. At first she had set a rapid pace across the moor, as though she were hastening to some vital tryst; then, just as Forth had been ready to protest that there was no need for such haste, she had instead begun to dawdle, pausing, or so it seemed, every few paces to stray from the path in pursuit of some imagined find, or simply to gaze up at the sky. She answered when spoken to, but either vaguely or with waspish irritation; and now Forth, who was impatient at the best of times, was almost at the end of his tether.

  “I’m damned if I know what’s got into her,” Forth persisted. “Anyone’d think she was performing the Chalila fiasco all over again!‘’

  “Chalila?” Indigo was baffled.

  “Oh, that was before you joined us.” Forth scowled again at Esty flouncing ahead of them. “You’ve never seen the play we used to do called ‘Chalila and the Demon’, have you?”

  A cold worm moved in Indigo at the word demon. “No,” she said cautiously.

  “Ah. It’s funny; in the far west it’s one of the most popular things in our repertoire; always has been. But further east we’ve never performed it. Da says”—pain showed momentarily on his face as he recalled suddenly what had brought them to this world—“Da says it’s too complex for the simpler folk; they get bored and start shouting for drinking songs. But anyway … it’s a story about a girl who’s spirited away by a demon lover, and discovers that he’s really a prince under a curse. It’s always been Esty’s favorite, but Da’d never let her play Chalila. She’s supposed to be demure, innocent—you know the sort of thing. Da said Esty couldn’t be demure if her life depended on it, so Chari always took the part. But there was one time when Chari got a bronchus and lost her voice. Esty knew the role by heart, so Da had to let her do it.” Suddenly his mood shifted and he flashed Indigo a quick, gleeful grin. “She was awful. But before the show began, she was in such a state you’d have thought she really was waiting for some story-book lover to stride into the van and carry her off. She drove us all half out of our wits with her goings-on; just the way she’s behaving now.”

  The cold worm writhed a second time, and Indigo thought she understood. For a long time Esty had harbored a secret romance in which she saw herself as Chalila. Now Chalila’s demon lover had come, a phantom in the mirror of an unreal pool, to show her his face and to call her to his deadly garden. Vulnerable, impressionable, Esty had been no match for the warped intelligence that lurked behind the phantom, and she had fallen in love with a horror that was preying on her deep-rooted longings and slowly but surely turning her to its own purpose. Indigo had dared to hope that by leaving the pool behind they would free Esty from the spell. She should have known better; should have realized the whole truth when Esty had insisted that they follow the course they were now set on. The demon was leading her, and, blindly, innocently, lovingly, Esty was following. It was a beautiful, lethal trap.

  Yet how lethal? An earlier thought began to gnaw at Indigo; something that had slid into her mind at the pool only to be forgotten in the turmoil of later events. The puppet-master and his willing victims. And the uneasy suspicion that perhaps only those who were willing might penetrate the veil to the demon’s inner sanctum. The creature that had come out of the dark to touch Esty’s mind with its poison was stronger and more tangible than the phantoms they’d encountered before; which suggested that this particular manifestation of the demon entity was closer to the heart of its progenitor. And if the precarious balance between Esty’s safety and the demon’s lure could be maintained, then to follow where it led might be their only chance of breaking through this world’s illusions to the reality beneath.

  Forcefully pushing down an attack of conscience, Indigo said, “I don’t think we should worry overmuch, Forth.” She smiled at him, ingenuous and hating herself for it. “The atmosphere of this land’s enough to set anyone’s imagination off on a peculiar tack.”

  “You mean, she’s playing Chalila all over again?” The significance of his observation seemed to have escaped Forth; he laughed, causing Esty to flick him a venomous look over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t be surprised at that. Well enough, then; just so long as her daydreaming doesn’t cause us any problems. Though I don’t mind admitting that I wish she’d snap out of it. All this dithering and dawdling—she seems to forget that we’ve better things to do.”

  Indigo found herself unable to meet his gaze directly. “Yes,” she said as her conscience assailed her again. “We have.”

  Forth’s wish that Esty would snap out of it was—at least as far as he was concerned—granted as their trek continued; for shortly afterwards the girl seemed to undergo another unpredicted shift of mood, and her dreamy, distracted meanderings were abruptly transformed into a new sense of purpose and direction. Forth was too thankful for the change to wonder at his sister’s suddenly reawakened determination, and Indigo, keeping her thoughts to herself, said nothing but only watched Esty more keenly than ever.

  The moor flowed on unchanging. It was impossible to judge whether they had been walking for days, hours, or merely minutes; the dark land spreading away in all directions seemed to defy such considerations and make them meaningless. For a while Indigo and Forth attempted to find some light subject for conversation, but there was nothing to say that wasn’t too redolent of buried fears and hidden disquiet, and eventually they lapsed into silence. Esty, however, seemed calmer and more sure of herself and was no longer swinging unpredictably between haste and lethargy. In fact if anything she was now setting a sterner pace than ever across the black turf; she seemed tireless, and every so often she would look back over her shoulder to where the others labored behind her, and urge them on with a gesture or an eager word. Indigo was growing more and more certain that, consciously or not, Esty was indeed leading them towards some unknown goal.

  But where, she asked herself, could that goal possibly lie? There was nothing on the moor as far as the eye could see, and they must by now have walked countlesss miles without any sign of an end to the barren, unchanging nightscape. Food and water would soon be in seriously short supply; and when their rations ran out, what then? The unpleasant thought occurred to her that perhaps that was precisely what the demon intended: to lead them on a fruitless, endless chase that would achieve nothing, until finally they succumbed to hunger and weakness and despair. Again Indigo thought of the Bruhome sleepwalkers, and shuddere
d. Why had they encountered none of those benighted souls since they had entered this world? What had become of them? And were she and Forth and Esty blindly following a dead hope and a path that could lead them nowhere?

  She tried, as far as it was possible, not to dwell on the subject as they walked on. The silence was growing oppressive; Forth, lagging a little and pausing every now and again to scan the empty moor behind them with unquiet, speculative eyes, was clearly restless, and only Esty seemed untroubled by the deepening atmosphere of doubt.

  At last, Forth couldn’t keep silent any longer. He said suddenly, sharply, “Indigo—Esty. Stop a moment.”

  Indigo halted and looked back. Forth’s face was a pinched oval in the thinly silvered twilight; the gloom made dark, indistinct slashes of his features, like something unhuman.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Esty, too, had stopped, but reluctantly, and her stance was tense. Standing between the brother and sister, Indigo felt suddenly like a reluctant mediator caught in the midst of something potentially dangerous. For a few moments Forth stared past her, focusing on Esty’s face. Then he said,

  “Where are we going?”

  Indigo didn’t answer him; the question hadn’t been intended for her. Esty only continued to stare back at Forth, and he repeated, “I said, where are we going? Because it seems to me that we’ve been walking for hour upon hour—the Goddess alone knows, it might even be days—and for what?” One arm swung in an arc, indicating the bleak moorland. “Just this, with no end in sight. Damn it, we haven’t seen one living creature, let alone any sign of Da and Chari!”

  Esty shrugged, and half turned away. “That isn’t my fault.”

  “I’m not saying it is. But since we left that cursed pool with its non-existent water, you’ve been leading us, Esty, and that makes me think that you must know something we don’t.”

  Esty turned her back completely. “Don’t be stupid.” Her voice was muffled; Indigo thought she’d raised one hand to her face and was biting her knuckles. “How could I?”

  “Right.” Forth exhaled a long breath; it was what he’d expected to hear, and he had come to a decision. “Well, I’ll say what I have to say and be done with it. I think we’re fools. We got into this world without any idea of what to expect, and without any plan of action; and since we arrived we’ve just walked as blindly as any of the Bruhome sleepers, with a sheep-headed notion that sooner or later we’d get somewhere. But we haven’t got anywhere, have we? The way things are, we might as well have stayed in the forest for all this trek’s achieved. Where’s Da? Where’s Chari, and Grimya?”

  Esty was beginning to look rebellious, and Indigo intervened. Gently, she asked, “What are you saying, Forth?”

  He glanced at her, and she saw his shoulders stiffen as he sensed patronage in her question. Then, curtly, he replied,

  “I’m saying that I’m not prepared to go another step until we’ve worked out a proper plan. Until we’ve sat down, right here, and talked.”

  “No!” Esty snapped.

  Startled, they both looked at her. Forth said, “What d’you mean, no?”

  Esty’s face froze. “I—don’t … that is, I—can’t see why we need—” She foundered, fell silent.

  “Oh, come on, Esty!” Forth was nonplussed. “We’re simply walking on and on, without any idea of where we’re going! How can we possibly hope to find Da and Chari this way?”

  “We will find them,” Esty protested, but without real conviction. “If we just have faith, and trust.” Her gaze moved quickly, furtively from Forth’s face to Indigo’s; she saw Indigo’s expression and hastily looked away again.

  “Trust in what?” Forth was growing exasperated. “Your unerring sense of direction? Damn it, girl, you—”

  “Don’t talk to me like that!” Esty cut across him so savagely that he recoiled, startled. “Who do you think you are?” Her vivid eyes blazed, then suddenly she shrugged her pack from her shoulders, flung it to the ground and flopped down beside it. “All right. Sit and have your council, if that’s what makes you happy. I don’t care!” She turned away.

  “Right.” Forth, too sat on the grass, and looked up at Indigo. There was a hint of challenge in his eyes, and when he spoke again his voice was scathing.

  “I suggest, Indigo, that we ignore that child until such time as she decides to stop behaving like a spoilt brat. In the meantime, maybe you and I can discuss more important matters.”

  Indigo hesitated. She wanted to urge them both to stop squabbling, but at the same time she knew that this latest rift had been triggered by something far less innocent than sibling rivalry. She had to mediate: but at the same time she needed to walk the tricky tightrope between pacifying them both and avoiding arousal of any suspicion about her own motives.

  She said, “Listen, both of you. I don’t know how long we’ve been walking, but it must be near on time for another rest.” She forced a wry smile that didn’t convince her but, she hoped, would fool them. “I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I don’t doubt you are too. Let’s make camp here. And then we can all discuss what’s to be done, and satisfy both needs.”

  Forth said, “Yes. I agree.”

  “Esty?”

  The girl shrugged, still keeping her back turned. “If that’s what you want. I don’t care.”

  “Very well.” Indigo slipped off her pack, flexing her shoulders gratefully as the dead weight fell away. She was weary; and as she sat down Forth, sensing it, said, “I’ll take first watch.” He smiled at her, and the smile conveyed a hint of apology. “We’ll talk later, yes? When you’ve slept for a while. You look as though you need it. And don’t worry about Esty. We’ll patch it up; we always do.”

  Indigo hesitated, hoping fervently that he was right. The quarrel might pass. For now, at least, there was little to fear, and she returned Forth’s smile before settling down to make herself as comfortable as she could on the uneven ground.

  Perversely, sleep refused to claim her at first, despite her tiredness. For some while she lay awake, aware of Forth gazing meditatively out at the bleak, silent nightscape and of Esty’s occasional restive movements. After a time Esty gave in and lay down, curled up with her head pillowed on her pack; shortly afterwards Indigo heard murmured words that she couldn’t quite catch and which at first she thought were addressed to Forth. But Forth didn’t respond, and she realized that Esty must be asleep and dreaming.

  At last Indigo’s consciousness began to slide away. On the brink, just before the quiet inner dark closed in, she had the sense of someone watching her, and tried to rouse herself to warn her companions that they weren’t entirely alone. But reality was slipping from her, shifting into the first images of a dream, and she relaxed. A dream. That was all it was. Just a dream.

  Indigo slept. Her sleep was sound—and so the shock and chagrin of waking, when they came, were all the worse.

  “Indigo!” The voice intruded on the disjointed image of a desert of blinding yellow sand, and as she stirred Indigo heard herself speak a name she’d all but forgotten, and ask a question in a familiar but neglected tongue of the eastern continent. Then the fog of sleep whirled away like a dust-devil, and she found herself looking up at Forth.

  “Indigo!” His hand was gripping her shoulder with bruising ferocity as he crouched over her, and there was terror in his eyes. “Esty’s gone!”

  Forth’s sorry tale was a brief one. He’d been more tired than he had realized, and once Indigo and Esty were both asleep he’d found himself fighting a losing battle with his own weariness. Rather than wake either of his companions, he’d determined—foolishly, as it now seemed—to sit the watch out. But the effort had failed, and he’d stirred to find his head slumped on his knees, his back aching fiercely, and Esty missing.

  His immediate assumption was that something had crept to the camp and snatched Esty away, and he was torn between ranting self-recrimination and frantic declarations that she must be found and rescued. Indigo, thoug
h, knew exactly what had become of Esty, and cursed herself for not having foreseen it. The quarrel should have alerted her: Esty, obsessively pursuing the delusion that had her mind in its thrall, hadn’t been prepared to let anything stand in her way, and had snatched the first opportunity to shake off those who, to her distorted reasoning, were frustrating her desires. It was the worst possible confirmation of Indigo’s suspicions; and now she couldn’t keep those suspicions to herself any longer.

  She persuaded Forth to calm down for long enough to listen, and told him what she already knew; of the garden and its deathly white denizen reflected in the pool, of the disturbing sensation of the phantom’s power, and of Esty’s peculiar slyness and secrecy which had sounded the first alarm in her own mind. Then, frankly and without embellishment, she confessed to the plan she’d formulated of allowing Esty to lead them to whatever was calling her, and which had now so appallingly misfired.

  Forth heard her out, and when she stopped speaking there was silence for a few moments. Then, in a voice pitched unnaturally low by his efforts to control it, Forth said,

  “So Esty’s run off in pursuit of this—this demon, this thing. And you knew about it all along. You knew something like this might happen, and yet you let her run that risk—”

  “Forth, I’m sorry! The Mother knows, if I’d thought for one moment that she’d—”

  “If you knew Esty, you would have thought! I’d have known—damn it, she’s my sister, she’s as transparent as water to me, and I could have predicted exactly what she’d do! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Indigo shook her head despairingly. “I should have done. I see that now. But I didn’t want to do anything that might arouse Esty’s suspicions, or let the demon realize what was afoot.” It sounded feeble, she knew; but it was the truth.