10
(1 votes)
| Rating | Rated by |  | | 10 | TheRealKarmaTse.. | |
You must login to vote
|
|
|
They stopped in front of the doors, but before Sandra could open her mouth to demand entrance, the two bodyguards- she couldn't tell which one was Mr. Balsarius- stood aside and opened both doors wide.
Devi Stone stood behind the coffee table, hands at her sides. The Professor and Henry Standish stood on either side of her.
"Come in," Devi said. "Please."
Sandra, Isaac, and Liam stepped inside. The doors were closed behind them.
"I expect," Devi said, her tone flat. "That you won't believe anything I have to say. So I called home instead." She bent down and pressed a button on the terminal before her.
A large, projected screen appeared in the air above the low table. There was a moment of static, and then a face appeared in the translucent square. It was male, handsome, imperious; framed by ringlets of blond hair.
"Hello," the head said, its voice emanating from the terminal speakers. "My name is Alexander Stone." The man held the seal of the Stone line up to the screen. "I am the current head of the Stone line of the Family. Also listening is my sister and business advisor, Cassandra Stone. My sister Devianora, who speaks for me in Knightsbridge, informed me of events that were transpiring, and with some assistance from your employer, my people here were able to link with ambient cameras in the area. I have very nearly all of the ensuing fight recorded on my terminal. What I wish for you to know is: While I do not recognize your attackers, and I cannot guess who they were working for, I promise you they were not sent by us."
"By 'us'," Sandra said. "What do you mean, exactly?"
Alexander seemed to lean back in his seat. "No member of the Stone line was involved in any way with those individuals, nor has any member of the Stone line employed anyone with the intention of doing harm to you at present. All orders of this sort go through me, so I would know if such an action had been taken. Whoever ambushed you today did not come from us, and we have no knowledge of it."
"This is probably a daft question," Liam said. "But what reason do we have to believe you?"
The Professor glared at him. Liam shrugged.
"Mr. Steiner, isn't it?" Alexander said.
"That's right."
"I expect you have heard, at the very least, a number of rumors concerning the Family. Am I right?"
"Could be."
"In that case, you will have heard that we are very concerned with the subject of honor. Yes?"
"I believe the word was 'obsessed', but right enough."
Alexander smiled thinly. "That would be a fair assessment." His face grew grave again. "This conversation is being recorded. A copy will be uploaded to the- ah- Professor's terminal, for perusal at any time. Mark me now."
Alexander sat back from the screen and rolled up his right shirtsleeve to the elbow. He held up his bare forearm, palm out. "I swear by my own honor, that of my ancestors, and that of my line itself: Those who attacked you this afternoon were not of my employ, nor of any member of the Stone line. This I swear." He looked aside and held out his other hand. "Knife."
A short ornamental dagger was placed into his other hand by an offscreen source. He held it up. "This I swear on my own blood." He put the dagger to his wrist point-first, pressing until a small rivulet of blood welled and began to leak down his arm. He put down the dagger.
"Papers," he said, and a sheaf of documents was handed to him. He held it with his wounded hand, put the thumb of his other hand to where the blood welled up, and then pressed the bloody thumbprint into a blank spot on the documents. He set them down. "A copy of these documents will be forwarded to you. Apart from my print, it contains my personal chop, as well as the seal of the Stone line. It is an ironclad document, and breaking it would mean destruction from the other branches of the Family. Does this help to allay your suspicions?"
Liam frowned. "Guess a nod and handshake doesn't get the mileage it used. Rightyright, works for me."
Isaac looked at his two companions, then back at the screen. "Excuse me?"
Alexander turned his attention to him. "Yes, Mr. Angelus?"
"Does any of this mean that you won't be sending someone to kill us at some point in the future?"
Now the Professor was glaring at him instead of Liam.
Alexander looked taken aback. "We'll be in consultation, I'm sure. I'll contact your employer if we need to speak any further. I appreciate your time."
The screen faded into thin air.
"Mister Angelus," the Professor said. "There is a time and a place for-"
"Stow it," Liam said, cutting him off. "It's a valid question, and fuck your rules and regulations."
"You may not care for them, Mr. Steiner, but in certain circles we operate with something we like to call 'propriety', and what you consider a 'valid' question may further endanger the very thing you seek to preserve. Have you considered that?"
Sandra folded her arms. "I don't think anything we say or do will change that. It's out of our hands. It's been out of our hands." She locked eyes with the Professor. "And I notice no one's said anything about you being killed."
The Professor returned her cold stare. "I think I've had enough of being punished for my good deeds today," he said. "Come, Mr. Standish. We are leaving."
"So are we," Sandra said. She turned, then, and pointed the first two fingers of her right hand, like a gun, at Devi. "We have a conversation to finish."
Devi blinked. "We do?"
"We do. And I will be back sometime to finish it. To be continued."
The three of them sat around a table at the Nine Points, staring at their respective pints and saying nothing. Conversation buzzed around them, accents both familiar and strange mingling in the smoky tavern air. It seemed muted to the three of them, as though heard through an invisible pane of glass. Everything outside of them was far-away and hazy. They looked at their drinks. They drank their drinks.
Isaac sighed and rubbed at both eyes with the heels of his hands. "All right," he said. "So did we just dodge a bullet here, or are we in more trouble, or what?"
"Depends on how you look at it," Liam said. "On the one hand, we know who's not come after us-"
"Yet," Sandra said.
"Yet. On the other, we don't know who has, why they has, or when they might has again, so to speak. So I wouldn't say I've unclenched quite yet." He frowned. "Oh, and I forgot. You're off to the Murky Public School-"
"Invisible College."
"-to further your sodding education, cos this seemed like just the right time to learn about moral relativism whilst your friends are being skewered like the world's prettiest kebabs."
"You can come with me, if you like," Isaac said.
Liam and Sandra looked at each other. They looked back at Isaac.
"No," Isaac said, looking them both over. "You won't, will you? That's why I didn't ask. And I'll bet you couldn't tell me exactly why you won't come, just that it doesn't feel right. Well, it does feel right to me, and I can't explain that either. And I just want to talk to this Dr. Rider about the program. I'll be gone a day, maybe. Probably."
"Okay," Sandra said. "Okay. I understand. But you're staying the night here, and leaving tomorrow morning."
Isaac blinked. "I am?"
She reached across the table and laid her hand on his. He looked down at it, then up into her eyes.
"Yes," Sandra said. "You are."
She smiled an unreadable smile, then turned and flagged down the serving girl as she passed. She motioned the girl to lean in close, then whispered something in her ear. The girl listened, nodded, and scurried away behind the bar.
"What was-?" Isaac began.
Sandra put a finger to her lips and smiled again.
The girl returned, bearing a tray on which sat a long silver pipe, like a miniature flute. A shallow bowl filled with a sticky-looking brown substance was attached at one end.
Sandra picked this up, put it to her lips- as though about to play a tune- and turned a small knob on the side. Isaac heard a tiny whoosh and hiss as a flame ignited somewhere within. The brown stuff began to smoke, and Sandra drew this into her lungs, inhaling slowly from top to bottom. When she could inhale no further, she set the pipe down, leaned over to Isaac, and pressed her lips against his.
Their mouths opened, and she exhaled scented smoke into his mouth.
Isaac breathed in. The world seemed to breathe in with him, the smoke coruscating not just into his lungs, but through his entire body. A cool, clear note sounded in his head, and everything went soft and sun-warm.
Sandra parted her lips from his and whispered into his ear. "Pass it on."
He remembered that he was still holding the smoke in his lungs, and he turned-
Liam's lips met his own, and he breathed out for what seemed a long time, parting at last and- with a dwindling sense self-posession- turning back to face Sandra.
"What," he said, his voice sounding distant to his ears. "Was that?"
"A local preparation," Sandra said, smiling again. "Washed opium, mixed with several local herbs. How do you feel?"
"Very...comfortable."
"Good." And she turned her head to accept the smoke from Liam.
Things became less definite after that. The three of them passed around further mouthfuls of the scented smoke, talking in low voices about subjects Isaac could never quite remember afterward. Sometimes it seemed they were discussing the most mundane nonsense; television shows he had never seen, people he cared nothing about, stories and legends told thirdhand. Other times, they seemed to be sharing their most intimate secrets, though Isaac would later decide that this was either not true, or else his companions had been struck by the same dim amnesia as himself.
The light seemed very soft, the air both cool and warm at once. Their table seemed to occupy a world of its own, both next to and hidden from the lives of all others save the three of them. They ate and drank little, but held hands, and touched each others' shoulders and arms as if to reassure themselves of their presence.
Sometime later, they retreated, giggling and whispering together, up the stairs to Sandra's apartments. They collapsed on her bed in a tangled sprawl of arms and legs, snuggling against one another in the warm dark.
Isaac kicked off his shoes and lay back on the counterpane, his head whirling with half-formed thoughts and waking dreams. The ceiling above him dissolved, and there was Lensmoor, laying like a fogbank just above him; close enough to reach out and touch. But- he realized- also within his mind, a doorway to the quicksilver dreams and nonlinear thoughts that coruscated just out of sight.
He thought: This is important. This is a secret.
And followed that thought down into embracing darkness.
------
"Quit this world, quit the next world, quit quitting!" -Sufi proverb.
|
Take Me Back to the Garden of Love - 14
