Burying the Shadow (4 page)

I had met my
guardian-pursuers, and that day I loved them as angels. Later, I
learned otherwise.

Gimel

‘
In the day we eat
of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die. How dies the
Serpent? For us alone was death invented?

Paradise Lost,
Book IX

Thirteen dead.
Thirteen: the number of all things fatal and dark.

We had been
away too long, caught up in the wine of the world, drinking
ourselves into heady euphoria. Thirteen had died in our absence.
Yet despite these tragedies, the world had continued to turn
unheeding, dragging its aging tide across the land. Our house, in
the eastern atelier court was filmed with dust, so the first thing
Beth did, upon our return, was to scold the servants. Four years we
had been away. Too long. Out there, once our task - that of finding
a suitable soulscaper - had been successfully completed, we had
nearly forgotten the point of our travels. That is the allure of
travelling; all eloim succumb to it eventually, if only for a short
span.

We had crossed
the inland sea from Sacramante, landing in the Lansaal port of
Zhijelih. This was a central point, and we could take our time,
travelling across the land towards Taparak. We had taken the
precaution of bringing our own transport with us from Bochanegra -
one of the fleeter Metatronim carriages, accompanied by members of
our human domestic staff from home; a driver, his boy, and a body
servant for each of us. These people were trusted individuals, to
whom our safety and comfort were of fundamental importance. While
it is impossible for eloim to make humans exactly like themselves,
it is possible to grant them longevity. Our immortal blood, while
not so potent as to grant immortality to humankind can, if imbibed
on a regular basis, at least double their lifespan. All humans in
eloim employ were subject to this practice. A rapid turnover of
domestic staff would be inconvenient to the throngs; just as the
servants learned to do their jobs properly, they would wither and
die. If their ichor intake was monitored carefully, a human might
well enjoy the bloom of youth for a hundred and fifty years. After
that, unfortunately, their own metabolism seemed to take over, and
they succumbed to a natural fading towards death. For reasons of
security, there was a strict rule among the throngs that longevity
should be bestowed solely upon the most loyal servants.

We assumed
that many soulscapers would be wandering about Lansaal, which might
save us having to enter Taparak itself. Aware of the scrying
strength of the Taps, both Beth and I were anxious to avoid the
city, if at all possible. While there were no recorded incidences
of soulscapers recognising the eloim for what they were, we still
harboured a basic unease about the Taps. If anyone could penetrate
our disguise in the world, they could. And the concentration of
soulscaping ability to be found in Taparak was something neither
Beth nor I were eager to confront. What would happen if someone
suspected we were not like ordinary travellers? I dared not think
about it. All my people knew that the phenomenon soulscapers called
the Fear was eloim-born; ghost fragments of memories of despair
from the time of the Expulsion and Devastation - tragic events in
our history, of which we were forbidden to speak. It would be
catastrophic if this fact was discovered; old hatreds might rise to
destroy us. The Taps were a constant threat to eloim-kind because
of this. However, we respected the soulscapers because they were
the guardians of humanity’s health and sanity. And yet, because of
their penetrating insight into the minds of others, every time we
approached a soulscaper we risked exposure. Beth and I stalked them
because we had to, even though we feared them - but we feared their
city more.

Beth, needing
action and spontaneity, husked more than a pretty soul or two on
the journey east. I myself had no desire to sup - anxiety about our
business crushed my appetite - and I took only modest refreshment
from my maid, when hunger became too pressing to ignore. As we had
anticipated, soulscapers were plentiful in Lansaal, so there was no
reason to delay our mission. I confess that I was not entirely
happy about that. From the first, this idea had been Beth’s rather
than mine, and I still questioned the wisdom of it. I feared
discovery and was unsure whether we would emerge victorious from
any direct confrontation with a soulscaper. What if they were
stronger than we were? Beth sneered at my fears, although I was
sure he was anxious about this himself. He refused to discuss it
though. I told him we would have to be circumspect in our approach
to these people - men and women alike - and yet the very nature of
our mission meant we would have to be more open with them than I
felt was wise.

‘Don’t fret,
Gimel,’ Beth said, as we travelled towards the town where he had
decided our search would begin in earnest. ‘I have devised a
strategy.’

I stared
glumly out of the carriage window, watching our manservant, Ramiz’
booted foot swinging from the side of the driver’s seat. We
followed the coast road, and although the sunset flinging colour
across the sea was breathtaking, I could take little pleasure in
it.

‘A strategy?
Don’t be absurd,’ I said.

My maid,
Tamaris, who sat beside me, reached out timidly to touch my hand.
Clearly, she sought to bestow reassurance. I uncurled my fingers
from beneath the sleeves of my black lace and velvet travelling
coat and squeezed back gently. Tamaris is such a loyal girl.

Beth laughed.
‘It is very simple,’ he said. ‘After we have secured lodgings in
Lumeza, Tamaris and Ramiz can scout around for lone soulscapers.
They can arrange meetings in discreet locations. There will be very
little risk.’

‘I feel you
have no grasp of the reality of the situation,’ I replied. ‘What
happens when we meet these people? Do we tell them everything and
trust they are sympathetic? It is a stupid plan!’

‘Of course we
don’t tell them everything!’ Beth said scornfully, idly unravelling
one of the tassels hanging from the window curtain. ‘We will induce
them to enter our soulscape. Once they have bonded with us in that
way, we can employ our usual methods for subjection. It can’t
fail.’

‘Really? Why
do you speak of ‘they’, in that case? Surely we shouldn’t have to
do this more than once.’

Tamaris
pressed against me more firmly; she hated it when Beth and I had
cross words.

‘Gimel, be
sensible,’ Beth said. ‘Soulscapers are familiar only with the human
soulscape, and we are not human. I am convinced it will take an
especially puissant individual to withstand the inner landscape of
an eloim! This might take several meetings, but don’t worry, if we
are lucky, the first may well be suitable.’

His optimism
and cheerful anticipation did not reassure me.

Lumeza was a
small, untidy community. We took accommodation in a fohndahk, at
the edge of the town, where chickens ran about in a yard outside,
gossiping noisily, and dust from the coast road furred all the
appointments in the guest-rooms. I stood dejectedly in the middle
of my room, which was barely furnished, while Tamaris made soft
sounds of outrage, and dusted the spotted mirror with her sleeve.
The windowsill was cluttered with dead insects and the air smelled
fusty, like decaying corn. The floor, the door and window-frame and
the wooden beams of the ceiling, looked dried out and splintery.
From this miserable base, my brother and I would begin our vital
quest.

Tamaris and Ramiz went
out into the night, while Beth and I sat out in the dusty yard of
the fohndahk to wait for their return. We drank orange wine in the
heavy dusk, and did not speak. I was aware of the beating of my
heart; I was nervous. Perhaps our servants would not find a
soulscaper. Perhaps some unseen agency would save me at this final
moment. Something would happen so that we could go home.

The moon
sailed up the star-shot sky and the air cooled towards the
graveyard hours beyond the midnight, chilling my skin through my
lace stole. ‘To bed, I think,’ I said, putting down my glass,
rubbing my fingers together for the sweet wine had made them
sticky. I stood up, and pulled my wrap tightly around my shoulders.
Beth was a pale shape before me, slumped back in his chair, dappled
by moonlight coming down through the ilex trees in the yard. I
could tell he was annoyed. Somehow, I had achieved a minor victory.
And then there were low voices coming towards us through the night,
and I recognised the bubbling sound of Tamaris’ laughter.

‘Why don’t you
sit down?’ Beth said quietly, but I remained standing.

The
soulscaper’s eyes and his teeth flashed whitely in the darkness;
astounding against his matt, black skin. His laughter was deep and
genuine. He accepted our offer of wine, begged by Tamaris from the
sleepy fohndahk matron, whom she’d had to call from her bed. He had
a name, of course, this first soulscaper brought for our
inspection, but I cannot recall it now. He was a mature man, lean
from hard travelling.

‘I’m told
there is work for me here,’ he said, looking at me. I raised a hand
without replying and gestured towards my brother. Let him do it. At
that moment, I wanted no part of this business.

Beth smiled.
‘There might be. But it is a tricky matter. I am loath to discuss
it here.’

The soulscaper’s smile
seemed to freeze on his face, but I’m sure no one else noticed,
perhaps because I was the only one looking for it.

‘Sounds
sinister!’ he said, and put down his glass of wine. He did not
touch it again. ‘Where, then, would you like to discuss this tricky
matter?’

Beth extended
his hands. ‘Please, bear with me. Perhaps we could take a walk
together.’

The soulscaper
eyed our gathering: tall, muscular Ramiz, with his gypsy looks,
minx-eyed Tamaris in her witch’s gown of red and wreathed in ebony
hair, and Beth and myself - how did he see us? Forbidding, aloof?
Or just conniving rich children from the far opulence of
Bochanegra? Then he smiled, and I swallowed reflexively, gulping
the cold air. In that smile, I saw the certainty that he could take
us on - all of us - if necessary.

‘A cool night
for a walk,’ he said, standing up, ‘but perhaps bracing.’ He
indicated for Beth to lead the way.

Tamaris and
Ramiz paused to let me precede them - however informal our
relationship could be at times, they were aware of their place -
but I gestured for them to overtake me. I followed last, numbed
with cold and dread.

We walked
along a lane overshadowed by spreading trees. Tamaris murmured
softly to Ramiz, looking back over her shoulder occasionally,
perhaps to check I was still with them. Beth was talking rapidly, I
could see his hands moving, but could not hear his voice, and the
soulscaper strolled with slow dignity beside him, paying attention
but apparently adding no comments, asking no questions. We climbed
a stile into a tree-bordered field, far enough from Lumeza for any
sounds we might make to be unheard by anyone else.

‘Gimel?’ Beth
directed a challenging look at me, perhaps wondering whether I
would shrink from this summons. I approached the soulscaper,
dragging my skirts through the dew-damp grass. Tamaris and Ramiz
lolled against the fence behind us; they were not to be included in
this part of the proceedings but - as our dependent humans often
are - were eager to spectate.

‘He will
examine your soulscape,’ Beth said.

‘Mine?’ What
had Beth told him?

‘Only if you
want me to,’ said the man gently. I dared not look at him, sure my
eyes would betray everything.

I nodded.
‘Very well. Will it... take long?’

The soulscaper
had squatted down in the grass and was rummaging through the bag
he’d been carrying. ‘No, I must ignite the fume. Perhaps your
companions can move back. There is no breeze, I know, but the smoke
can travel...’

Beth smiled at
me tightly and sauntered back to the fence. For a few moments, the
soulscaper prepared his materials in silence. Then, as he applied
tinder to a charcoal he said, ‘Are you sure you feel comfortable
with this?’

I stared at
the grass. ‘Yes. It’s quite alright.’

‘You don’t
have to feel ashamed,’ he continued, blowing on the flame. ‘Your
illness is not your fault.’

I remained
silent.

‘We could have
done this at the fohndahk, you know. No one would have thought
anything of it. I’ve treated people there before.’

Beth must have
told him I was sick, and an invented skittish temperament was the
excuse to get us to this isolated spot. Why couldn’t he see we were
deceiving him? I should tell him now; raise my eyes, look at him.
My limbs felt frozen, a paralysis not caused by cold. The
soulscaper took off his coat and spread it on the grass.

‘Lie on this,’
he said. ‘Relax, close your eyes, breathe deeply...’

Numbly, I
obeyed, telling myself I was undertaking necessary action. Later, I
could rebuke Beth in the strongest manner for making me do this.
Later, it wouldn’t matter. I thought of Rephaim falling from the
campanile. I steadied my breathing. I let this kind stranger look
inside my mind.

I was aware of
distant noise, floating in a pleasant haze, where summer clouds
scudded across a cornflower sky. I awoke to activity, anguished
voices, violent movement. Someone trampled on my arm. I cried out
and rolled off the soulscaper’s coat onto the wet grass. Tamaris
was shouting, and there was a melee of floundering limbs beside me.
I heard the dull thump of flesh against flesh, then silence, but
for panting breath. I scraped my hair from my face and saw Ramiz
standing nearby, bent over, his hands on his knees. Beside him,
Beth stood upright, wiping his mouth. There was a dark, huddled
shape on the grass between them. It did not move at all. The air
was full of the intoxicating perfume of fresh blood. I found myself
salivating, both nauseated and hungry.