Chasing the Dragon (30 page)

"Mina sent me to Lily's," he said, truthfully, because Tubianca
could detect any kind of lie and would anger to a lacerating rage in a
flash.

"I thought I heard mention of rats." She padded silently out into
the hall and put herself between him and the door. "And earlier Mr. V
was talking to you about fires. Why is that? It's high time you were in
the rag basket with all the rest of the pointless little experiments. Why
would anyone talk to you, you useless, uninteresting, slow-footed sack
of worthless ends?"

"I don't know," Zal said, glad that she wasn't the best questioner
in the world. He took a few more steps, but any farther would take him within easy reach of Tubianca's paws so he had to stop. "Excuse me,
please."

She ignored him. "What rats could there be? It cannot be. You
must have fallen on a tack. What did she say?"

Zal told her, omitting the part about making things. Seeing her
round eyes narrow to slits he took a risk on her pride and added, "Don't
worry though, she already sent a doodoll to catch it."

"What?!" Tubianca bristled, and without another word she was
past him and up the stairs in a streak of white ire.

Zal took his chance and ran out the door and up the path as fast as
he possibly could. He made almost no sound, but all the way he
seemed to feel the cat's baleful stare on his back. The clear evidence of
his own vulnerability filled him with horror once again as it had before
when he had been shredded by her claws. It was a long time ago now
and he'd nearly forgotten it, but he hadn't forgotten it enough to stop
running.

He hated running to Lily to be doctored, but he had no choice. Or
had he? He slowed down, looking back and seeing the path clear. Mr.
V had been trying to tell him that he had. There was no trusting
faeries-he had to remember that, but he didn't want to. He badly
didn't want to. As he reached Lily's imposing door he rang the bell at
the silver pull, and the book in his pocket banged against his chest. At
least he had a good reason to seem nervous.

There was a pause and then the door was opened. Lily looked out,
then down. She was tall, powerful, and pregnant, an imposingly
healthy woman with a practical gaze whose actual colouring and
appearance fluctuated several times a second so that she seemed to be
a universal avatar of female promise. More than once he saw her ears
lengthen and bones refine themselves to elfin. She had other forms, but
for him she kept it simple. Her clothes were immaculately tailored and
stuck about all over with needles and pins of various sizes and shapes.
Their points winked like stars. She spoke as if he had interrupted something very important, with a vexed, harried air, "Have you come
for ... ? What have you come for?"

He felt the brief blight of her confusion and her disappointment in
him for the millionth time, but it was old news. His stories had run
out long ago, and he was used to the role of inconvenient child. "Mina
sent me. Something ate my leg." He showed her. "She sent Mogu to
hunt it."

Lily frowned and her face went cold. "Come in."

He endured the mending without looking at what she was doing.
She hummed to herself the while, like an angry bee, and finally, snapping the last thread and putting the needle in her lapel, she said with
pleasure, "It has been many ages since someone dared steal from us. I
would like to see this person. And I'd like to see Glinda."

Zal knew this was not-the-name for the third sister. He'd never
seen her.

"And I suppose 'biancs needs a kick up the arse," added Lily. "Letting it in as if she had nothing better to do. Maybe she'll redeem herself by finding how it got here."

"Lily," Zal murmured to get her attention, quietly, in case she
didn't want to be interrupted. He often wanted to talk to her, or
anyone, but in the sisters' case if they weren't in the mood then it was
useless, and irritating them was a big mistake. He could feel this as a
certainty so implacable and frightening that he had never even tried it.

"Mmn, what is it?"

He steeled himself for retaliation. "You promised."

Like Mina, she had a way of looking at someone that was so acute
it was like being pinned under the most powerful microscope. "Yes, I
did," she said. "But consider this. Would you like her to come here?"

The answer to that was obviously not. He had supposed as much.
He couldn't understand at all what she got out of his being there. "I
want to leave."

"Do you? Well, before we think about that we have to deal with this rat business." It had clearly put her in a good mood. She was
almost indulgent.

Such luck could come once in an aeon here. He braced himself and
asked as if it had been eating him up for ages, which it had, so no worries. "Who is Mr. V?"

"Mr. who? Oh. Well. Nobody you need to bother about. He's Lily's
little helper. Odd-job man. That's all. Now fetch my coat and hat. It's
time we paid a visit to Glinda." With a pretended annoyance she began
to pull all the needles and pins out of her dress bodice and put them
into a silver holder, but Zal could tell she was happy, because her hum
had started to have a kind of tune in it that you might almost describe
as perky. However, there were also times, and this was one of them,
where he was reminded that what appeared to be going on here was
only an illusion. As she got herself ready the world shivered and shifted
around her, instead of the other way about, and he saw for an instant
things that defied his ability to understand, huge and yet tiny forces of
utter and no magic at all, underpinning the thin, colourful skim with
the steadfastness of a mountain and the flimsiness of thin air. He closed
his eyes and held the doorframe for an instant, blinded.

As he was regaining his balance he realised Lily had futzed her
reply. He didn't know why she had, but he did know suddenly that she
wasn't entirely happy about Mr. V's position. That was two things he
knew, and he would bet that this was not the second thing Mr. V had
been thinking of when he said Zal would learn more. Unfortunately he
had no reason or way to reach the attic now that they were fussing
about leaving. Lily tugged at her skirt, muttered something about
Glinda stealing that dress and hiding it away-something she said
often with great rancour-and then, after she'd dragged a brush
through her hair and practiced a couple of expressions (polite interest,
detached understanding, and what could have been affectionate condescension) in the hall mirror they were off.

The path, which had never gone farther than Lily's house, stretched off into the distance and around a bend. Zal had to trot a step in three
to keep up with Lily as she strode out, whistling, her hair streaming
behind her. As he did so her words repeated through his head and he
knew a third thing, because it was obvious now that he'd been
reminded of his real position here as the worthless fluff. He didn't want
the silver-eyed girl to come here and be stuck with him until forever,
but obviously for some reason, Lily did.

The day that had begun so unpromisingly was now so interesting
Zal was happy. He felt there were many things to think of that could
spoil that if he wasn't very very careful, so for the time being he didn't
think and enjoyed himself with the anticipation of more discoveries all
the way to Glinda's house.

ila woke up with the sun shining on her face. For a moment she
didn't know where she was. She could see grass and trees, but then
the glass wall of the building became familiar beyond them and she
realised she was still at work. Lifting her head she looked around and
saw Malachi's yurt, flaps opened wide. Inside it Malachi was down to
his rolled-up shirtsleeves, cleaning. Outside it most of his possessions
lay broken in a heap next to the gravel path. Next to her a tartan
thermos flask and a paper sandwich bag lay side by side. She reached
out for them, and a heavy weight of purple silk velvet slithered off her
arm. She felt the air suddenly cool on her hand and looked down to see
herself swathed in the heavy cloth.

She raised an eyebrow, but she felt too sleepy to react otherwise.
The flask contained coffee, the sandwich was tuna salad. Salad was
wrong for breakfast, but her stomach was hurting. She sat up and ate
it, chewing slowly, watching Malachi fuss and fiddle with his few
remaining things, polishing his desk, using a handheld vacuum
cleaner on his rugs and the felt walls. It was quite peaceful. After sleep
her Al systems remained on standby until she let them work, so she
didn't let them. Her memories of the night before were bad enough.

At last Malachi glanced her way. He abandoned his dusting and snatched his jacket and coat up from their hangers before striding over
to her. In spite of his efforts and the state of the place he looked immaculate, his short hair glittering with coal-dust glamour. "At last.
Thought you'd never rejoin us."

Lila balled up the sandwich bag and tossed it over his head onto
the trash pile. She swallowed, yawned, and peered up at him. "Who
says I have?"

"We have to make a house call."

Lila scowled, unscrewed the coffee mug cap, and sniffed. It was a
latte, with caramel syrup, boiling hot. She gloated over it secretly.
"Not until I finish this we don't. Take a pew."

Malachi was buttoning his cuffs. He shrugged the jacket on,
adjusted it, and did up one button. "We shouldn't be late." He checked
his watch. "Already a bit tight on time. It's after nine, you know."

"So?"

She was reluctant to spoil the moment but considered the sandwich and the drink and conceded a few notches to him, "Who are we
going to see?"

His reply was offhand. "Azevedo. She's a medium. Or a seer. One
of the Children."

"I guess it's not a care visit."

"Only for you. We're going about your sister."

"Great." She didn't want to think about that, so of course it was
first thing on the agenda. "Anything else?"

"I think she can help us find Zal."

Lila squinted up at him as he shimmied into his long coat and
pulled the sleeves of his jacket until they fit inside correctly. She tried
to distract herself from the sharp spark of hope that was trying to find
life inside her. "D'you think fifty years has passed for him too?"

"I don't know," he said honestly after a short pause. "It wouldn't be
that much, for an elf."

"I wasn't worried about him being old," she said, though now she thought of it maybe she was. "But ..." She didn't finish. She wanted
to say that a lot of things could change in that kind of time, except she
was looking at someone who seemed not to have. "I'm not sure that the
message I got was from him."

Malachi nodded. "Azevedo will be able to tell."

Now that she'd started her mind was loading up on problems.
"That thing, last night, the demon. After we see her I have to get back
to Demonia and look for T. I think he's in trouble."

"Understatement of the century. I think you should stay away from
Demonia or it'll be the last thing you do." He frowned.

"Yeah but ... he was looking for something. For me. I feel-"

"What? Responsible? I don't think so. No. It's a stupid idea. No."
He saw that his reason was having no effect and changed tack.
"Anyway, what trouble could he be in? Think about it. You might
even make him look bad, rushing to help."

She drank the coffee. It was delicious. "We'll see."

Malachi groaned inwardly. He didn't think now was the moment to
share his intuition about Teazle's circumstances. He had to save that for
when she really started steaming off. But because he couldn't use it he
found himself blurting out what had been on his mind while he was
trying to bring order back to his office. "Do you ever think about after?"

She scowled again. "Huh?"

"Here you are, days back from Under, fifty years gone, and the first
thing you do is go all out to put the gang back together. Some of us
waited. Some didn't. Or couldn't. Point is, what about after? What is
your plan? You're burning all your boats just to get Zal. You think
that's going to fix things?" He was appalled to find he sounded exactly
like somebody's hysterical middle-aged mother.

She drained the coffee mug, screwed the top on, and put it down
on the grass. "Nothing can be fixed. So what? Zal always said `don't
look down."'

"But he did." They both knew it was true, but Malachi could see she wasn't about to stop. There was an implacable force inside her now
that he'd never seen before their short, ill-fated run into Faery. It made
his blood run cold sometimes. He had nothing with which to stop her.
Couldn't even apply a brake. He could help her, or he could leave and
that was it. "Who the hell put you in charge?" he said angrily. He
knew it was a bad reaction. He put his hands in his pockets and found
his car keys. "Ah shit, I'll meet you in the lot."

She watched him stalk away into the building. She remembered
when she'd had manners and been polite. It was a long time ago. She
got to her feet and shook out the cloak. Its mood had changed to something more serious apparently. It sat heavily on her, like theatre curtains, with a hood hanging at her back over a short shoulder cape that
covered the arm slits in the main body. The hem was weighted.
Beneath it she was free to be herself today. The leather and metal of the
body armour she was used to moved easily, like her skin. It was her
skin. She let it grow up to her collarbones and neck until only her
hands and face were free, were human. Walking to the car park was
worse than she thought it would be. Every step felt like a step towards
an execution. Against her skin she could just detect the inert length of
the black pen. She saw it scything through the demon in her mind's
eye, saw the creature buckling and folding impossibly into the blade,
sucked away, its howls of fury becoming screams of despair. Where had
it gone? She didn't care.