The Choir Boats (40 page)

Oh my, orchids as gorgeous as in Merian’s paintings
, thought Sally.
Red carnations, masses of carnations, a colibri like those in Catesby.
Surely there is smilax here somewhere for Uncle Barnabas.

Isaak raced across a flowerbed in pursuit of the black squirrel
with the lavish tail. The squirrel scrambled up a nutmeg tree, but
Isaak made another discovery: someone sitting on the far side of
the fountain. Watching Isaak stalk, Sally saw the figure as well and
strode forward.

Sally and Afsana caught sight of one another at the same time, and
both cried out. They had seen each other before — in Sally’s dreams
on the
Gallinule
. Sally and Afsana studied each other, as Isaak circled
them both. Each saw a mirror of the other, a pale Afsana, a dark
Sally, the same cheekbones, each with a chin just a little too small
for their faces. Sally remembered the half-moon earrings and the
silver threading in Afsana’s hair.

“You called out to me,” said Sally, without any introduction. “In
my dream, the first time.”

“In the dream, you startled me,” answered Afsana. “I was
dreaming too, and suddenly you appeared, very forcefully. I had a
feeling of great danger. I called a warning to you: ‘Beware.’”

Tom caught up with her. The apprentice from Mincing Lane
took off his cap and looked nervous. Tom cleared his throat, hoped
Sally would say something. When she did not, he bowed like one of
the jointed wooden toys one could buy at the Christmas markets
in London, and introduced himself. Afsana gestured to the benches
and they all sat. Sally moved to speak but, before she could, Isaak
leaped into Afsana’s lap.

“Look at that!” said Tom. “Isaak
never
takes to strangers! She is
always
grumpy, except with Sally and the cook.”

Sally watched as Isaak turned once in Afsana’s lap and curled up.
Afsana tried to contain her astonishment, but Isaak conquered her
discipline, and Afsana laughed.

One part of her wants the other part to stop laughing
, thought Sally.
And she does not wish us to see her inner struggle. Still, her laughter
would not be out of place in Mincing Lane.

Afsana composed herself. Hesitantly she pet Isaak, who purred
loudly enough for all to hear. Tom stared and shook his head,
expecting Isaak to dig her claws into Afsana’s blue silk dress and
then pounce off after some distraction in the garden. But Isaak did
not, only burrowed her head more fully into her tail.

“I have the advantage,” said Afsana, “since I knew about you
whereas you did not know about me. The Queen and the Learned
Doctors told me I was to meet my father at last. About my father
I have heard my entire life. I did not know I had English cousins
until just recently, when the Learned Doctors said that my father
had been accompanied here by his niece and nephew, and two other
members of his household.”

Not knowing what to say, Tom said, “Scottish, actually. We’re
Scots from Edinburgh, at least originally. Though we’ve lived most
of our lives in London, so I guess — ” Tom stopped and wished his
sister would say something. Afsana stared right at Tom so that he
felt compelled to say still more. “Anyway, your English is frightfully
good. How did you come by it?”

Afsana, blinking once, said, “English is my birthright, just as
it is yours. My grandfather spoke it fluently since he dealt with
British — is that better? — merchants. My mother had some English.
She insisted I learn it so I could speak with my father when he came
back for me.”

Tom interrupted her. “Uncle Barnabas is a good man.”

Afsana reared her head and said something in a language Sally
and Tom did not know, Hindi perhaps. Sally raised her hands,
hugged herself, to curb the anger she felt. What she wasn’t certain of
was whether the anger was at Afsana or at Uncle Barnabas. Probably
both, she decided. Isaak looked up at Afsana’s face, nestled back
into her lap. Sally was determined to change the subject, as nearly
impossible as that might be.

“They told us you have been here five years,” Sally said. Afsana
shrugged, letting the question of Barnabas’s goodness rest. She told
the McDoons about her life in Yount: that she lived in the Palace
as a special ward of the Crown, that the Learned Doctors spoke
with her frequently, that her only real confidante was the Rabbi of
Palombeay, and that she had little to do since opening the second
lock on the moon in the Temple.

“The Yountians hunger for our presence,” Afsana said, touching
one of her half-moon earrings. “They honour us Karket-soomi,
need us for their escape from exile. Yet they are wary of us at the
same time, and some, perhaps a growing number, are afraid of us.
Though their fear is not so different from what I experienced in the
Big World.”

“In Edinburgh they feared our grandmother, said she was a
witch,” said Sally, nodding.

I wonder what people in London would say about me now, if they knew
what I can do
, she thought.
Call me a dangerous lunatic, the way they’ve
done with Joanna Southcott. Mrs. Sedgewick might understand. Not
many others.

Tom said, “The Yountians
hate
the Cretched Man, but he is,
well, their opponent only because he must be, and in Yount’s best
interest, even though they don’t see it that way. Oh,
Quatsch
, the
point is that people fear the unusual and don’t always know who
their real enemies are.”

Afsana looked for the first time with interest at Tom. She asked
Tom about the Cretched Man and, for a while, conversation centred
on Jambres’s role as gatekeeper, his subordination to Strix Tender
Wurm, and the opening of the Door at the Sign of the Ear. Sally
spoke little, listening to the way in which Afsana posed questions.
Light in the garden faded as the sun disappeared over the courtyard
roof, the citrus fruits glowing yellow and the carnations glowing red
in the dusk. Isaak twitched a paw as she dozed in Afsana’s lap.

Afsana said, “I felt the Door opening and the emergence of the
Owl-Wurm. I was very afraid.”

“I felt you, but not in the Temple,” said Sally. “You were in the
chorus when we sang the ship, the
Gallinule
, out of Silence.”

“Yes,” said Afsana. “I did not know what was happening and had
no idea who you were. I simply answered a call. I did not tell the
Doctors, or even the Queen, about that.”

The sun sank farther. Sally thought she saw in the shadowed
bushes a pheasant, looking very much like the indigo bird on her
favourite china. She rubbed her eyes. The hummingbird hovered
for several seconds just above their heads, its gorget glowing in the
dimness. They all stopped talking to watch the bird. Isaak woke up
and watched too.

Afsana said with a sudden fierce urgency, “Do not tell anybody
everything! Tell as little as you can. Guard your hopes, keep them
small, or you will always be disappointed!”

Her emotion caused Isaak to jump off her lap. The cat sat at her
feet for a moment, looking up, and then trotted to Sally. Tom and
Sally each had a question but Afsana stood up like a fist being thrust
into the heavens, cutting off further conversation.

Sally stood up and said, “I do not know that I agree but I believe I
understand some of your reasons for saying what you do.”

Afsana, perhaps because Isaak was gone, retreated into the icy
reserve she had brought with her to the meeting. Sally saw Afsana
peering at her with suspicion. The young woman from Oman turned
and walked away. Sally walked after her, but Tom was even quicker.
He caught Afsana gently by the elbow. Afsana pulled her elbow away
so that her bracelet jingled but she stopped. She did not look at Tom,
or at Sally as Sally joined them. The three cousins stood in a tableau
against the banks of carnations as the sun disappeared and the first
stars appeared through the glass of the Winter Garden.

Tom spoke first: “Afsana, this makes little sense to us either —
any of it. Not long ago I was an apprentice scratching all day in ledger
books. My biggest worry was what play I might see that evening.”

Afsana turned then, with narrowed eyes, and hissed, “Yes,
exactly!
Your
biggest worry was a . . . a trivial thing! All
my
life I have
lived waiting for a father who deserted my mother and who cared to
know nothing of me. All my life, do you understand? A father who, it
seems, cursed me doubly by giving me powers that cut me off from
the few who
do
love me!”

Sally felt the falcon in her rise up, but Tom was steady. He said,
“We are sorry for your suffering. Uncle Barnabas needs to speak
with you about that. He will, I am sure of it, from his heart.”

The granddaughter of Khodja merchants stood up so straight it
seemed she might lift right off the ground, and said, “You might be
confident but only because he has been to you the father that has
not been to me.”

Sally could not restrain herself longer, crying out, “But how could he
be a father to you, when he did not know of you? Had he known . . .”

Afsana glared at Sally, her eyes flashing in the starlight, and
yelled, “He
did
know! My mother sent him a message. He never
answered! He did not wish to know me.”

Quietly Tom said, “He did
not
know. The Learned Doctors
destroyed the message. He never received it. Here’s what Nexius told
us yestereve.”

Afsana displayed no emotion as she listened. When Tom finished,
Afsana brushed by him and walked back to the benches. The garden
was dark but slivers of starlight reflected off the water and the
marble and the jade. Afsana sat a long time on the bench. Sally and
Tom came back to her.

At last, Afsana said, “I surprise myself but I believe you. I want to
hear this from my father as well.”

“You will,” said Tom.

Afsana said, “My life has not been mine to control. I did not ask
for this, any of this.”

“Neither did we,” said Tom.

Sally shook her head and said, “But we did wish ourselves to come,
Tom . . . you and I. You as well, Afsana . . . cousin. We three were born
with this longing. The question is, what shall we do with it?”

Together the cousins thought about Sally’s question while they
contemplated the moonless sky. They sat listening to the water from
the fountain. The sky above was fabulous with stars. Tom caught
glints from Afsana’s earrings, saw the sheen of her glossy black hair.
He heard her bracelet jingle as she moved her hand to stroke Isaak,
who was weaving around her and Sally.

Afsana looked up to the stars and said, “No moon here, but
elsewhere . . . We Muslims reckon time by the lunar calendar, so I
know that tonight the moon should be nearly full.”

Cole-Month slipped into Grappling-Month, and headed towards
the winter solstice. Barnabas met Afsana every day at noon in the
Winter Garden. They talked for hours, sometimes until sunset.
Sally let Barnabas bring Isaak (and Isaak would suffer Barnabas’s
transport), to Afsana’s delight. On the days when Isaak curled up in
Afsana’s lap, the conversations between father and daughter were
much less fraught than when Isaak was absent.

“Buttons and beeswax,” said Barnabas to Sally after one of his
visits to the garden. “Isaak shall dine on fresh fish every day forever,
even if I must catch the fish myself!”

Sally and Tom would meet with Afsana in the garden for an hour
or so before Barnabas appeared. The conversation was not always
fruitful: sometimes Afsana fell into icy indifference and sometimes
she raged at Barnabas and sniped at Tom and Sally for defending
him. Sally lost her temper more than once, usually on days when she
let Barnabas bring Isaak. Throughout, Tom stayed calm. He wanted
nothing more in the world than to be sure his sister and cousin were
friends. On one particularly trying day, he laughed and said, “The
Three Graces, we are assuredly not! The Three Blind Mice is more
like it!” After explaining the references, Afsana smiled too, despite
herself. So it went day after day as the McDoons struggled to find
a place for an unexpected family member and Afsana struggled to
decide whether she should find a place and, if so, on what terms.

In the afternoons, Sally visited Reglum Bammary, who was
continuing his recuperation back on station at the Marines’
Analytical Bureau. The A.B., or Abbey as Reglum called it, was
located in a modern building on Immer’s Canal, across the river
from the Palace. Two days before the winter solstice and the
kjorraw
ceremony, after a vexing session with Afsana (who, if Sally were fair
about it, had equal reason to be angry at Sally), Sally fled with relief
to the A.B. and found Reglum free of bandages for the first time
since the skirmish. They walked to the Department for Fulgination,
to show off Reglum’s “new” shoulder to Dorentius Bunce. Sally loved
Dorentius’s office, which contained piles of specially made graph
paper filled with notations and symbols and a huge slateboard filled
with more scribblings, besides all sorts of books, globes, and maps
and several ansible-devices in various states of repair.

“Hello book-weevil,” said Reglum on this day, waving his arm
ostentatiously in front of Dorentius’s face.

“Hello yourself, nib-whittler,” answered Dorentius, who, seeing
Sally, said, “Or perhaps I should demonstrate that Cantabrigians are
true gentlemen by congratulating you, sir, on being named the new
editor of the catalogue.”

Sally said, “Well . . . ?”

“Youngest editor ever, in fact,” said Dorentius. “For the
Phorcydiana, which is the Catalogue of Monsters and Goettical
Creatures, one of the A.B.’s most important projects. After
fulgination, of course, but otherwise quite worthy.”

Reglum said, with pride that belied his words, “Oh,
zattipatti
,
they probably just wanted to be nice to a chap who won’t be much
use with a sword for a while.”