The Black Rose (29 page)

The rest of that day was a blur. No more work was done. The body was conveyed off the ship in the most respectful way possible. It had been wrapped in one of Sardâr's old cloaks. It wasn't
actually
Sardâr under there; it couldn't be. At least, for the time being, Jack could pretend it wasn't. The folds of brown under the sun could have been disguising anyone.

A pyre was formed in an open space beyond the shelters. No one questioned this—it seemed that Adâ, along with several others, had known of his preference. It was a mound of bark, grass, and dry leaves, into which the cloaked shape was placed like a cradle. Then they dispersed, waiting for nightfall.

Sometime afterwards—he had no idea how long—Jack found himself slumped in the shadow of
The Golden Turtle,
hidden from sight of the shelters. A glimmer of white sprung up next to him. Inari sat on his hind legs, the thick, paintbrush-like tails wafting. For once, he didn't speak, considering Jack with his beady black eyes.

Jack didn't acknowledge him immediately but maintained his gaze over the savannah. He didn't want to talk, especially about what had just happened, but one thing had just become clear. “You knew, didn't you?”

“That you're the Übermensch? Yes.”

“I suppose it's pointless asking why you didn't tell me.”

“For the same reason I can't tell you everything right now. I'm constrained—”

“But by who?” Jack stomped the dirt with one foot. “The Cult's gone! The Emperor's gone! Even Sardâr”—the words caught in his throat, but he forged ahead—”even Sardâr's gone now. What can possibly be stopping you?”

The fox opened his mouth, but only a spluttering gasp came out, as if he were being strangled. He tried again, with the same result.
“I… I can't…”

Jack didn't reply. He was beginning to feel numb, the sensation spreading from his core outwards, pushing the heat from him. He wanted to get up and leave Inari in the dust. The fox usually showed up at the most unwanted times, but when he was needed he was so rarely there.

Even as these emotions began to form into a loud rebuke, they withered and died again. Jack was too tired for this, too exhausted by existence. Too much had gone wrong in the last few hours; there was no point adding to the load.

The fox waited a few seconds. Then he wriggled next to Jack, who absently caressed him.
“I'm sorry I can't be of more help. I know it must be difficult at the moment.”

Jack exhaled slowly. “I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. It seems like a huge revelation, but I'm just where I was before. So I can speak any language. Now what? I'm supposed to be leading the Light against the Darkness. How's being multilingual going to help me do that?”

“Far more than you know.”

“Can't you give me any more than that?”

Inari turned his triangular head toward him.
“You're on the right track.”

“What, you mean finding the Shards?”

“Not just that. You were on it long before you came across the Apollonians. You're a good person, Jack. Better than me. And that's what will make all the difference in the end.”

Night approached slowly, but when it fell, it was particularly clear. A tapestry of stars hailed the gatherers at the pyre. Nothing was said. Jack was glad of that; he wasn't sure he could have handled any kind of elegy or reminiscence. They waited in solemn silence whilst Adâ and Hakim approached, bearing twin alchemical flames between their palms like lotus flowers. They took up positions at opposite ends. Everything was still. Then they lowered the fires onto the fringes of the wood.

To all the lights glimmering in the heavens, they added another, the sparks spiralling into the night. The blazing pyramid, steadily crackling, marked their shadows into the dust. The cloak wore away, and the dim outline of a figure flickered amidst the flames before being obscured.

Jack didn't look at anyone else. His gaze was fixed on the flames until his vision swam with smoke.

As the fire began to quell, the zöpüta dispersed. A little later, the first Apollonians took their respectful leave. Eventually, only Adâ, Hakim, Charles, and Jack remained.

Charles creaked his wheelchair over to him and spoke softly. “I think it's time we gave Adâ some space.”

Jack nodded and turned away. Hakim joined them as they made their slow way back towards the shelter, not speaking a word. Jack was glad of the darkness. His eyes had begun to sting, no longer with the heat of the fire.

They hadn't reached the shelter before Lucy became discernible out of the gloom. She was in their path, and it was clear she was there for a purpose. Jack glanced over his shoulder. Adâ was knelt before the embers, her form blurred on the edges by the sinking heat. He didn't want to talk to Lucy right now.

“Jack,” she began.

He halted, and the other two continued on their way. He was left facing the girl with whom he hadn't spoken since his failed attempt just after arriving here. Now didn't seem like the best time.

“Jack, we need to talk…”

Jack leaned against the tree and exhaled slowly. They had found a secluded place away from the main shelter, and Lucy had been talking solidly for almost half an hour—it was as if all the time she normally would have spoken to him in the last few weeks came out in one go. She started from the beginning, recounting their arrival at the goblin camp in the Sveta Mountains, meeting Maht and her daughter, their journey to the Cave of Lights, and their capture by the Cult. She had broken down at several points, her eyes shimmering with tears in the distant firelight. And she had finished with a quiet declaration that had left him reeling: she wanted to go home.

“I don't expect you to come with me at all. You're happy here. You've got…” She sounded as though she were about to say Ruth but quickly corrected herself.
“People
here who really care about you.”

“They care about you just as much as me!”

“Maybe, but still… my mum and dad… and everyone else…”

Jack didn't reply. He couldn't fault Lucy for wanting to go back to her family, not that he knew what that was like.

“And, Jack,” she continued, “I don't want to end up like Alex.”

The last word was a knife to the stomach, a mingling of pain and guilt. He hadn't
forgotten
about his friend, but with everything else that had gone on, Alex had been pushed to the recesses of his mind. In the chaotic jumble of their time on Nexus, his original reason for being there had momentarily slipped away. Moreover, where was he now? Had he suffered the same fate as all the others who'd been dragged into the void?

“Alex will have got away,” Lucy said. “We managed it, so I'm sure he could. He was the one who always looked after us, remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” He didn't feel as confident as he tried to sound. Like Bál back on Albion, he realized, there was literally no way of knowing what had become of Alex.

“Do you understand now?”

Jack nodded vaguely. He supposed, on reflection, that Lucy's wanting to return to Earth wasn't odd at all. The two of them, after all, had first been pulled into the world of the Apollonians and the Cult by accident. Being taken to Thorin Salr had been for their own safety, not of their own volition. With the Cult gone, it was logical that now was the time she'd choose to go back. From what had become of Bál, of Alex, of Sardâr, he suddenly realized how incredibly fortunate he and Lucy had been to come out with only a few minor injuries. He hadn't even
considered
the possibility of going back to Birchford to take up his old life—but then, Lucy had always had a better time of it than he had. It just seemed shocking that, after so long together, they were going to part ways for an indefinite amount of time.

Lucy didn't seem to know how to proceed. After a moment, she added, very quietly, “Please don't try and stop me.”

Jack allowed his eyes to shut; in this darkness, it made little difference either way. “I won't.”

Lucy placed her hand on his. “Thank you.”

She didn't waste any time about it. They went back to the shelter, where she took Charles aside and explained the situation to him. She said she didn't want to cause a scene, especially considering the cremation, so she would leave overnight and allow others to pass the message around. Vince agreed to take her home.

Before long, she had collected her sparse belongings. As Vince readied one of the dimension ships, the very same turquoise one that had taken them from Earth in the first place, Lucy stowed her sack of clothes in the cargo area.

Jack was the only other one there. “Have you thought how you're going to explain this back home? We must've been gone a good two months now.”

“The Apollonians said when we'd left they'd explain to my parents. I guess I'll just have to work with whatever they told them.”

When Vince finished the preparations, Lucy turned back to Jack. She was caught between the glow of the fire from the shelter and the whirring lights of the ship's control board. She and Jack stood motionless. Then Lucy ducked into a fleeting hug and retreated to the passenger bench of the ship.

The wings began to vibrate.

Jack's last glimpse was of the grubby, auburn-framed face of his friend, before she was hurtled off in a blaze of lights and darkness.

Hakim had called a private meeting aboard the command deck of
The Golden Turtle.
None of the normal crew members were present, and those who were spoke quietly in a closed circle around the map table: Jack, Dannie, Ruth, Hakim, Adâ, Vince, Gaby, Malik, Charles, and the set of others previously unknown to Jack.

In comparison to the bubbling of the zöpütan dinner, the atmosphere had quelled considerably. It was less than twenty-four hours since the cremation, and everyone was understandably reserved. Hakim and Adâ had come in wearing black. Adâ, he noticed, had also cut her hair: streaming dark locks had been sheared, exposing her frail neck. She looked as if she hadn't slept.

When everyone was assembled, Hakim cleared his throat, and the mumbling quieted. His voice was cracked but steady. “I'm not going to attempt to elegize Sardâr now. I couldn't do him justice in so few words. Suffice it to say, Adâ and I want to escort his ashes back to Tâbesh. He has no remaining family, but many friends and colleagues are there who will want to honor him. By the laws of our country every citizen, even if they are exiled, has the right to return in death.”

There was general nodding around the circle. No one was going to prevent such a reasonable request. Hakim half-turned to Adâ, as if to see if she had anything to add, but she stared absently ahead.

No one said anything for a few moments. The morning sun blazed through the glass dome, catching swirling jets of dust in its beams. No one seemed to want to continue talking.

“I'm presuming, then,” Hakim continued, “that the rest of you will remain here until we return?”

“I think so,” Charles confirmed, once several people had given their assent. “The zöpüta still have a considerable way to go with their new community, and we can all lend a hand.”

Hakim smiled faintly. Jack could tell he was glad that he and Adâ wouldn't be missed too much. “In that case, has anyone got anything more to add?”

Again no one spoke. Jack's heart quickened. He was in a moment of indecision. He knew it was right that the others should know what Sardâr had told him, but this didn't seem like a particularly respectful time. He didn't want to hijack the situation. And yet, they would be angry later if he hadn't told them when they were
all
here…

“Well, in that case—”

“I've got something to say.” Jack stepped forward slightly. Everyone was now looking at him. He gathered a deep breath, taking in all their waiting expressions, and then took the plunge. “I'm the Übermensch.”