Authors: Ysabeau S. Wilce
If only that blue glint would glint elsewhere, I would protest, but then it occurred to me that Paimon did not want Poppy to know the details of the future, and I saw that was probably right. Would I want to know that my future was lost, that my sanity hung by a thread, that only failure and pain lay ahead? Probably not. But still, I wished that Poppy would know it was
me.
When the story—still woeful for all that it was now shorter—was over, Poppy shook his head. “That Valefor is a tricky one. Watch him like a hawk. He’s sweet, mostly, but boy, can he be trouble when he wants to be. Buck has to keep close tabs on him. Well, obviously, we need to call Buck. She’d get Val back in line pronto.”
Udo said, “Buck’s away, and she won’t be back in time to save Flora. By the time she returns, it will be too late.”
“Now, I could send Buck a letter. She’d get it and be forewarned about the future,” Poppy said.
“Ayah, but you didn’t, because if you had, then she’d know already,” Udo pointed out. “And she wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
“Ayah, that is true enough,” Poppy admitted. “Paimon, can you slow Flora’s evaporation down? Keep her from disappearing until Buck returns? Don’t worry, honey. Hold on.”
Poppy reached out to me, to pull me back into his embrace, but his arms went through me as though I were made of smoke, diaphanous and gauzy.
“Poppy!” I gurgled. I tried to clutch him, but my reach was just as tenuous.
“I can see through her now!” Udo yelped.
A geyser of hysteria was building inside me and about to blow, and then two large white flannel arms pulled and held me tightly to a hard silk chest. For a second, I could barely breathe, in that barrel-chested embrace, then I realized that I didn’t have to breathe at all.
“I don’t understand,” Poppy said. “How can you touch her and I can’t, Paimon?”
Paimon answered, “I can manifest in the Waking World, but I am actually of Elsewhere. I am manifested in both the here and the now—her now and your here. Thus she is clear to me.”
“But I want to be in Udo’s here, or Poppy’s here,” I gasped.
“Paimon, you are the oldest House in the City—you have to be able to do something,” Poppy demanded.
“I have done all that I can do,” Paimon said, “though I have a suggestion to make. But I do not think it will meet with your favor.”
Poppy said, “I don’t know that this is the time to be squeamish. We shall do what we shall have to do. Let loose the advice, Paimon.”
“There is only one person in Califa who can help Flora.”
Poppy said impatiently, “Who is that? Don’t be all spooky about it.”
“Lord Axacaya,” Paimon answered.
O
F ALL THE SUGGESTIONS
Paimon could have made, this was the worst. My hope, which had sprung up when Poppy had proved to be so calm, so logical, so sure that we could figure something out, deflated like a punctured balloon.
Oblivion is only one step away,
Nini Mo said, and bitterly now did I understand what she meant. Perhaps there truly was no hope, and I should just give up. But I looked at Poppy, so straight and tall, and Udo, so faithful and true, and I did not want to give up, for them. I did not want to lose them.
“Axacaya!” Poppy echoed. “That tin-potted backdoor hornswoggling drummer? That jabber-jawed mincing malicho? He wouldn’t help his own mother stay afloat in a stormy sea.”
“He is the greatest adept in the City,” Paimon said. “He himself straddles the Line, with one foot on either side of the divide between the Waking World and Elsewhere. He is the only adept alive who has crossed the Abyss and returned again. If there is a way to save Flora, he shall know it.”
I looked at Udo and Udo looked back at me, his jaw clenching. I knew he was remembering what I was remembering: Boy Hansgen’s death. And wondering whether or not Lord Axacaya knew of our involvement in his failed rescue. How could we ask Lord Axacaya’s help after that?
“But Lord Axacaya is Mamma’s greatest enemy,” I said weakly. “Why would he help me?”
“You do not know until you ask,” Paimon said. “And do not think that your situation only affects yourself. You and Valefor are being pulled back into the Abyss—the denizen of one of the great Houses of the City is disintegrating. This affects all the Houses, and not happily, either.”
“Sod Valefor—what about Flora?” Udo said rudely. “He can go if he wants. It is her we have to save.”
“They are the same now,” Paimon said. “As one goes, so, too, the other, unless they can be disconnected.”
“And I hate like hell to ask Axacaya for anything,” Poppy said doubtfully. “I doubt if either Buck or the General would like me to have that kind of a debt.”
“For Pigface sake, Hotspur,” Udo burst out. “Do you think that Buck is gonna like it if Flora evaporates?
What’s she gonna say to that and if we could have done something to stop it and didn’t? I’ll go to Axacaya myself if I have to, and I’ll
make
him help, Flora. You can count on it.”
I blinked. When I looked straight at Udo, he was the same old Udo, but then when I blinked, it seemed that in his place stood a tall broad man, tanned from the sun, with fierce blue eyes, his waist girded with a heavy gun belt. Then I blinked again, and there was just scrawny Udo standing there. When I looked long at Poppy, I saw a skinny boy, pale face free of scars, ropes of blazing red braids looped about his neck and shoulders. Another blink, and there was Poppy, looking unhappy and lighting a cigarillo again. I couldn’t believe how beautiful he was.
“We have no choice,” the man who was Udo said, glowering.
The boy who was Poppy rubbed his face and blew a tendril of smoke. “Ayah, you are right, of course, Paimon.”
Paimon, no matter how many times I blinked, looked the same as ever, towering and monumental, and now damp with my tears. I looked down at my hands; they were like glass, and all trembly. Never to touch Udo again, never to pet Flynnie. Poppy had smelled so deliciously of bay rum and pipe weed; Udo of cinnamon soap and muffins. Now I could smell nothing. I would never smell anything again, not wet-dog Flynnie, or Mamma’s flowery hair pomade, or oranges. Never taste coffee, or maple-nut muffins, or chocolate. Paimon’s coat was soft beneath my face, but he had no heartbeat. I could distantly hear Udo and Poppy arguing, but already their voices were becoming dim, and soon I would hear nothing at all. I would float through Elsewhere, like a ghost, and gradually even Elsewhere would fade and I would grow dimmer and dimmer and then be gone.
What could Lord Axacaya do to me compared with that? He could refuse to help me. Would I be worse than I was now? Nini Mo said that you must
dare, win, or disappear.
“I will go see Lord Axacaya,” I said in a small voice. And then, when no one paid any attention, I summoned up all the loudness I had left in me and said, in what turned out to be a shout, “I will go see Lord Axacaya!” “An’ you will,” Poppy said firmly. “But not alone. I shall go with you—I wager I can influence Axacaya to assistance.”
“And me, too,” Udo said.
Paimon shook his massive head, his ruff flying. “I am sorry, but you cannot, either of you. Flora is almost gone into Elsewhere, and there you cannot follow her, neither of you being adepts. I will escort her, but you both must return to your proper places.”
“I will go,” I said. “Udo, you should go home, take Flynnie and Bonzo. Maybe you can stall Mamma, if you have to.”
Udo protested, but what else could he do? Soon he would not be able to see me at all, and he could not follow me Elsewhere. So he agreed.
“But I do not want to have to explain to Buck what has happened,” he warned. “Do not leave me holding the bag, ayah, Flora? It would be pretty mean to float off into the Abyss and leave poor me to get walloped. Ayah so?”
“Ayah so,” I promised Udo, and hoped very much that I could hold to this promise. “And don’t forget to feed the dogs and to let them out. They are probably explosive by now.”
“As long as you are still bossy, Flora,” Udo said, “there is hope. How do I get out of here, Paimon? Also, can I have my hat back?”
“Go back up the stairs and I shall meet you and escort you to my gates,” Paimon answered.
At the bottom of the steps, Udo paused and looked back at Poppy. “Hotspur? My father—could you tell him...”
“Tell him what?” Poppy asked, when Udo didn’t continue.
“Tell him I said hello,” Udo said quickly and, turning about, disappeared up the stairs and into the darkness.
And so Udo was gone, and I hoped with all my heart that I would see him again, that this was not the last time for us. And I resolved, if I did return, to be a bit less snarky about his foibles, and also to give him the fuchsia umbrella I had gotten for my birthday the year previous and which he had been coveting. It is funny the trivial things you can think about, even when the situation is dire.
“Give us a minute, Paimon,” Poppy ordered. “And then I will let Flora go.”
“A minute only, Major,” Paimon said. “We have a long way to go.
Poppy crouched down so that we were more of the same height. I had never realized how toweringly tall Poppy really was; my Poppy’s permanent list made him seem shorter.
He said, “It is funny, young Flora, you seem too serious to be my child. Even transparent, I can tell that you are not a sunshiny girl. And you were so happy as a child, always laughing and singing. Flora...why did you not tell me what was wrong? I know you did not, or you should not be here now. For had I known, I would not have let it get this far. And yet—I know now, and still I did not help you when you needed me.”
“Poppy...”
He looked at me gravely. “I wasn’t born in a barn yesterday. I can tell that Paimon has withheld information from me. No doubt he doesn’t want me to know the future, and if he doesn’t want that, then I can only guess it isn’t good. And yet, it cannot be all so bad, Flora, for you are grown so beautiful and strong. But I think there can only be one reason why I would not help you—but you needn’t fear telling me. I do not fear dying, Flora. I expect it. Fyrdraacas don’t die in their beds. I only hope that I make a good death. And I’m sorry that it means I will not be there for you. Will not see you grow up.”
“Poppy...it’s not that—” I choked.
“And even now I cannot be much help to you. And for that I am sorry, too. But you may trust Paimon, and, Flora, you must trust your mother, too. She loves you and Idden more than anything, and she will never let you down. I remember when you were born—you insisted on entering the world feet first, with the cord wrapped around your neck. You should have died, most babies would have, but you were too tough then, and you are too tough now—a true Fyrdraaca.”
“Poppy you don’t understand—” I sobbed, “Poppy—” Paimon chimed closer and cut me off before I could say more. “We must go, Major Fyrdraaca. I’m sorry.”
“All right, Paimon. Now listen to me, Flora. Everything is going to be all right. Axacaya is spooky, but he is just a man. Remember that. He is just a man. But you are a Fyrdraaca. Remember Barbizon?”
“Ayah.” I sniveled.
“Had she climbed off her pedestal when you left Crackpot?”
“No.”
“Well, then, see, the trouble ain’t so bad. Come on, girlie, don’t cry—it only spoils your aim.”
“We must go,” Paimon said urgently. “Come.”
Poppy kissed the air above my forehead, and I kissed it back. “Cierra Fyrdraaca, Flora.”
“Cierra Fyrdraaca, Poppy.” Paimon yanked me by the arm and sailed through the doorway. I turned back and caught a quick glimpse of Poppy, framed tall and straight, his hair glowing in the lamplight, and then he was gone.
I
STUMBLED AFTER
Paimon, with only his grip keeping me going. He dragged me onward, through endless hallways, up endless stairs, around endless corners, through endless galleries. I could barely keep up, huffing and puffing like a whirligig, then I stumbled over a riser, flew up in the air, and drifted like a kite, controlled by the firm grip of Paimon’s hand. Now I really was bobbing along like a balloon, and it was actually kind of fun. Like swimming without worrying about getting water up your nose or some snapperdog cannonballing onto your back and almost drowning you. I bounced and flew, feet trailing behind, hair whipping, and the wind was such a blur in my face that I could not see a thing.
Finally, we stopped, and when Paimon let go of my hand, I floated to the ground with a gentle thump, and there I lay happily. The carpet was as soft as grass. I blinked and saw that it
was
grass, sweet and warm, dappled with white daisies and egg-yolk-colored buttercups. I flopped over on my back and looked up at the periwinkle sky, spangled with little green butterflies. A fresh breeze ruffled my hair.
“That was cool,” I said. “Can we do that some more?”
“No,” Paimon intoned. “You must get ready to visit Lord Axacaya. You cannot go to him dressed like that.”
“I am afraid, Paimon,” I said smally.
“Why is that?”
“Lord Axacaya hates Mamma, and his Quetzals tore out the heart of Boy Hansgen. What if his Quetzals want to do that to me?”
“They will not. Come, Flora.”
I sat up reluctantly. “Why are things shifting back and forth?”
“You are Elsewhere now,” Paimon said. He rustled around in a tree trunk—no, a wardrobe—no, a tree trunk. It was awfully confusing. “Where things can be more than they appear.”
“So that was Udo as a man that I saw?”
Paimon turned, clutching a mass of red froth to his chest. “Ayah.”
“If that was Udo as a man, then that was Poppy as a boy? Why did I see Udo forward and Poppy back, instead of both back or both forward? That doesn’t make sense.” Nothing in this House made any sense. It was enough to make you sick. “I am confused, Paimon.”
“Udo has no past and Major Fyrdraaca has no future.”
I followed Paimon by a leafy bower, invitingly plump with pink pillows and a trailing canopy of roses and grapevines. The bower looked so cool and delicious that I wanted nothing more than to fling myself into its depths, lie among the poppies and rose petals, and dream of long languid rivers, of floating aimlessly in a narrow lulling punt, trailing my hand in the cool water, and drinking gin fizzies. Then I blinked again and saw the bower to be a large overstuffed bed, heaped with pink pillows and covered by a carved wooden lattice.