Mirrorscape (14 page)

He felt a sharp tug on the lasso as he was yanked helplessly towards his tormentors. The flame spat again, this time aimed directly at him. The heat was intense but did not reach him. The rope caught fire and, as Mel struggled against it with his remaining strength, it snapped. He threw off the smouldering remnant and took to his heels, in a kind of racing stagger, for the safety of the darkness. It felt like he was running in slow-motion. The demons were right behind him, shooting more gouts of flame and throwing their spears as they stampeded after him, jabbering with excitement. He ran as fast as his trembling limbs would allow, but after a short distance he was overcome by nausea. His legs turned to jelly and he collapsed forward on to his stomach. He raised his head and something in front of him caught his attention.

Tiny pinpricks of light like a swarm of fireflies hovered in the darkness. These sparks grew bigger and brighter and with a great, whistling swoosh shot over his head, followed by a rapid series of wet thuds and screams. He turned and saw that each of the demons had collapsed with a flaming bolt embedded in them. They shrieked as they were engulfed in fire. Mel looked back in the direction the bolts had come from and out of the darkness emerged twenty or more figures carrying discharged crossbows. They were illuminated by the flickering light of the burning fiends.

‘We meet again, Mel.'

The Rainbow Rebellion

The green man walked into the light. This time he was accompanied by a whole palette of coloured comrades, who finished off the screaming demons with their swords.

Mel vomited violently.

‘You're pleased to see us, then.' It was the blue man Mel had met before.

‘You'd better tell us how you got here,' ordered the green man.

Mel raised himself to his knees and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He pointed a shaky finger back at the painting.

Blue let out a long whistle. ‘I'll say this for him; he's got guts if he's been in there. That's a Flink.'

‘How long were you in there?' asked Green.

‘I don't know. A while. Before that I was in the master's picture. That's how I got here. Wherever here is.'

‘That's why you're feeling sick,' said Green. ‘You
can't stay too long inside the pictures before it gets to you. Believe me, I know. It starts with the body but before long it gets to work on the mind. It's a good job you got out when you did.' He helped Mel to his feet. ‘You'll be feeling better soon. Come with us now. You've got a lot of explaining to do.'

Mel was not blindfolded this time; there was no need. Several of the men lit torches from the bodies of the blazing demons and the wreckage of their chariot and set off after their leader in single file. From time to time, the flickering torchlight lit the walls of crumbling galleries hung with old paintings, but it was too dark for Mel to see what they depicted. There were abandoned treasures in the rooms – statues, furniture, huge ceramics and tapestries. Everything was rotting and festooned with cobwebs.

After about half an hour they stopped.

‘This is our camp,' said Green. ‘You'll be safe here. We'll rest for a while.'

‘I'll get the fire going,' said Blue. ‘Killing demons always gives me an appetite. How about you, Mel? A nice greasy hunk of rat?'

Mel thought he might be sick again. ‘No, thanks.'

Several of the men joined in Blue's laughter.

The large fire cheered Mel but failed to illuminate the vast space. The blaze was fed with pieces of broken furniture, and a number of skinned rats and a haunch of some unidentifiable meat were put to roast on a spit. Mel gazed around at his saviours, the firelight illuminating green, blue, yellow, red, mauve and orange faces and an extraordinary collection of clothes. Their garments had been fashioned from carpets, tapestries and curtains held together with crude stitching and lengths of rope. They had armour improvised from silver and gilt plates or salvers, and bowls for helmets with candles stuck to them. Some wore over-sized jewellery recycled from crystal chandeliers and interspersed with the skulls of small rodents. All eyed Mel with suspicion.

‘Now,' said Green, ‘I want to know everything about how you came to be here – and I mean
everything
.' He sat stroking an odd, piebald creature of a type Mel had never seen before. ‘I'll know if you're lying to me.'

As if to reinforce the point, Blue began to sharpen his knife.

Should I tell him everything?
thought Mel. He met Blue's icy stare.
Yes
.

So Mel recounted his discovery of the secret symbol, his journey through the master's picture and then through Flink's underworld. He also told them what Wren had said about the coloured men.

After he finished, Green studied the multi-hued faces of his comrades before looking back at him. ‘That's quite a tale. How many of your friends know about us?'

The sound of Blue's knife being sharpened seemed very loud in the silence. ‘Just two. I'm sorry.'

Mel's answer did not anger the man as much as he had expected. ‘You've found out a lot and guessed much of the rest. You're right, all of us here once worked in the mines on Kig. One by one, we managed to escape before the worst symptoms of the Coloured Death became evident, but not before our skin became stained. We'll be like this for good. Now we hide here, beneath the Great Houses.'

‘
What?
You mean ….' Mel gazed up.

‘Yes, that's exactly where we are. Most people
imagine that Vlam is built on three hills, but those hills are only the ancient and abandoned cores of the palaces. They've just gone on building and building on top of them for over more than a thousand years. The foundations are so extensive that down here they actually all join up. Right now we're beneath the House of Thrones. A few hundred feet above our heads King Spen is probably at his table. Tonight we'll also be dining in the palace.'

Everyone laughed.

‘It suits us just fine down here. There's always something to eat – if you're hungry enough.'

‘Some rat?' said Blue, offering Mel his tiny drumstick.

Mel put his hand to his mouth.

More laughter.

‘Nobody alive remembers these halls and no one ever comes down this deep. We scavenge the forgotten galleries for most of what we need: clothing, armour and even weapons. Very fine weapons they are too, originally crafted as collector's pieces and made to hang on walls. But they work just fine.' Green proudly stroked his jewelled sword.

Mel now saw that their crossbows were ornate and made from rare materials.

‘We can travel under the city unseen and if we need to go anywhere in a hurry then there's the Mirrorscape.'

‘The Mirrorscape? What's that?'

‘It's the world within the paintings.'

‘So you
can
get inside the pictures. All of them. Not just the master's. I
knew
it. They're all joined up, aren't they?' Mel's mind went into overdrive. If every painting was its own world then they could join up to make another universe. A universe where anything artists had ever imagined became real.

‘Only some,' said the green man. ‘Those bearing the secret symbol. The mirrormark it's called.' He second-guessed Mel's next question. ‘Not every artist can make the mirrormark, only the greatest. Ambrosius Blenk and Lucas Flink before him and a few others. Lesser artists can mark the canvas but it won't open a door into the Mirrorscape, and not every painting bears the mirrormark. The Mirrorscape recognises its own.'

Mel asked, ‘How big is the Mirrorscape?'

‘I don't know; no one does. And it's getting bigger
all the time. Whenever your master makes one of his paintings it grows.'

‘And other masters will add their own bits to it in the future,' observed Mel. His eyes grew wide with wonder at the notion. ‘But what happens if a painting is destroyed?' he asked, thinking of the ill-conceived world he, Ludo and Wren created. ‘Does that piece of the Mirrorscape disappear?'

Green thought for a while. ‘I don't know. My guess would be that it remains, but that the portal into it is closed. The only way you could get there again is from another painting.'

‘That makes sense. Once something's imagined, it can't be un-imagined. And is it all like … like inside the Flink?'

‘Some of it is. Some of it's beautiful and some of it's dangerous – often it's both – and everything in between. It depends on the artists and what they painted. We have a rough map of some of the less hostile regions and we try to stick to those. But it's not always possible. And there's something else about the Mirrorscape. The mirrormark, the seal that keeps people out, also keeps
the inhabitants locked in. There's plenty in there that we most certainly don't want out here.'

‘Like the demons.'

‘Like the demons – and worse.'

‘
Worse?
'

‘You don't want to know. They're not like us, the creatures of the Mirrorscape; figments they're called. If some of those creatures ever got free ….' He let the thought hang there.

You don't have to tell me
, thought Mel. ‘Time's different too. It's frozen – compared to here.'

‘The Mirrorscape's a very big place. In some parts time stands still and in others it's different, more different than you can imagine.'

‘And the insides of things, bits that you can't see in paintings, that the artist never painted. They're real as well.'

‘You've noticed that, have you? I believe that some artists imagine things so clearly, so perfectly, that every tiny detail of their world is realised in the Mirrorscape. One more thing: the seal's not permanent, it's fugitive.'

‘Fugitive? Like colours that fade in daylight?'

‘Yes. After a few hundred years it breaks down. In the very oldest and deepest parts of the Great Houses there are paintings that are so old the seal will be weak. It's a place you don't want to go.'

‘How do you know all this?' asked Mel.

Green almost smiled. ‘I just do.' Then, after a short silence, ‘As for us, we're just a small band at present; more are joining the Rainbow Rebellion all the time. There are a few people in Nem – very rich and powerful people – who sympathise with our cause.'

‘Like my master?'

Green did not answer, but by the way he looked at him, Mel knew he had guessed right.

Green continued. ‘And others. Despite what you may think, there are those in the Mysteries – yes, even in the Fifth Mystery – who are sympathetic to our cause: to put an end to their worst excesses. Lord Floris, the former governor of the Coloured Isles, for one. He helped us – while he could.'

‘How?'

‘Lord Floris is an art lover. He had a very fine Blenk in his quarters on Kig.'

‘That's how you escaped,' said Mel.

Green nodded. ‘And now, Mel, whether you like it or not, you're also one of us. In fact, it would suit us very well to have someone else who can travel about up top without attracting attention. Our topside ally is not exactly inconspicuous. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open in the mansion and to let me know if anything unusual happens.'

Who's this “topside ally”?
Something told Mel not to ask. Instead, he said, ‘I've been in Vlam for less than a week. I don't know anything.'

‘You know a great deal, Mel. You're a very observant and resourceful boy. There're apprentices who've been in Ambrosius Blenk's studio for many years and haven't worked out the hundredth part of what you have in a few days. So?'

Green had saved his life – twice now. Mel felt he could trust him. ‘I'll help you if I can. I owe you that.'

‘Good lad.'

‘I'm feeling much better now and I really ought to get back to the mansion. Am I free to go?'

‘Of course you are. We can escort you back by a
different route. My mate here will show you the way.'

Mel stood up and Blue laid his hand on his shoulder. He winked at Mel and cocked his head, indicating that he should follow.

Mel looked at Green. ‘How can I get in touch with you?'

‘Can you get inside the big clock that overlooks the square?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. If you need to talk to one of us tie a shred from your sash around the dragon.'

‘The one that looks like the High-Bailiff?'

‘He's quick, this one,' said Blue.

‘Do that and we'll come and find you. We're closer than you think. Now, off you go.'

‘Erm … what do I call you? I don't know your names.'

‘Just call us by our colours. That'll do fine,' said Green. ‘Now, skedaddle.'

Blue grabbed a torch and led Mel away from the fire until they came to a wall hung with paintings. ‘You know how this works. Grab hold of my arm.' He performed the gesture that unlocked the mirrormark.

Mel felt the familiar tingling and found himself side by side with his guide in the midst of a city made entirely of ice. From there they travelled through a bleak landscape littered with the bones of enormous, long-dead animals and, after that, through some kind of botanical hothouse where all the plants had human faces. Then they stood before another wall of mist.

‘This is where we say goodbye for now, Mel. We'll meet again, soon enough.'