The Devil in Green (37 page)

He slipped into the cushions, cocooned by every aspect of that place; he
didn't want to go back to the hardship of the cathedral, or of his world. He
wanted to stay there for ever, listening to her voice, letting her take care of
him.

'Your wounds were caused by something terrible,' she continued, 'even
to my own people. It has no business being in the Fixed Lands, or the Far
Lands, for that matter. It crawled up from the edge of Existence, where
even worse things have been stirring. Your kind have been noticed.' This
last comment sounded like a tolling bell.

'But that thing's been left behind,' he said. 'I'm never going to go within
a million miles of it again.'

'Pick the pearls from my words, Mallory,' she warned. 'And beware.'

He pressed her further, but she would say no more. Her statement,
though, remained with him, niggling at the back of his head, spoiling
the comfort he felt. In a bid to forget, he questioned her about her kind.
She told him of four fabulous cities that haunted her nomadic people's
memories, an ancient homeland they could never return to and the
terrible sadness that knowledge engendered in all of them. And she told of
the wonders the Golden Ones had seen: astonishing creatures that soared
on the sun's rays, breathtaking worlds where the very fabric changed
shape with thought, the play of light on oceans greater than the Milky
Way,
the great sweep of Existence.
Tears sprang to her eyes as the stories
flowed from her, memories of amazement that cast a pall over her current
life.

'We have lost so much, and I fear we will never regain it,' she said, and
the terrible regret in her voice made Mallory's chest heavy.

At some point, her voice became like music, lulling him to sleep. He
dreamed of worlds of colour and sound, bright and infinitely interesting,
of nobility and passion and magic, and when he woke with tears in the
corners of his eyes he resolved not to return to his world of bleakness and
dismal low horizons.

The room was empty. He stretched, surprised at how wonderfully
rested he felt. The corridor without had the stillness and fragrance of early
morning. He wandered along it, searching for Rhiannon to ask her if he
could stay at the Court, but the whole place appeared deserted; not even
the guards were visible. He took branching corridors in the hope of finding
some central area, but the building was like a labyrinth and he quickly
became quite lost.

After a while, he came upon an atrium big enough to contain trees at
least eighty feet tall. Sunlight streamed through the crystal glass high
overhead, yet the space was cool and airy. A grassy banked stream babbled
through the centre of the room, while birds sang in the branches and
rabbits and squirrels ran wild amongst the trunks.

In the very heart of the atrium was a pillar of marble so white it glowed.
Mallory felt oddly drawn to it, but as he approached, a disturbing
whispering broke out on the edge of his consciousness. He couldn't quite
make out what was being said, but still it unnerved him. He had an
impression of strange intelligences, so alien he could barely comprehend
what form they might take.
Turn away,
he told himself, fearing that his
own mind would be burned by any further contact; but the pillar pulled
him in.

Yet when he came within a foot of it, the subtle whispering faded away
and there was only an abiding silence in his head. The marble was
hypnotic in its blankness. As he stared at it he began to feel as if he was
floating in a world of white with no up or down, no horizon. Peace
descended on him.

He didn't know how long he was like that, but time had certainly passed
when he realised he was seeing something in the nothingness. Shapes
coalesced like twilight shadows on snow, taking on substance, clarity,
depth and eventually context, until he realised with a shock that he was
looking at Miller lying on a muddy trail, his dead, glassy eyes staring up at
the grey sky.

His cry broke the spell. When he looked around, Rhiannon was standing
at his shoulder. 'I just saw
. .
.'

She nodded slowly, her face grave.

The pillar was just white marble again. 'A hallucination? Or did I see
what was really happening back on earth?'

'The Wish-Post looks into you as you look into it,' she said. 'What you
saw is the road not travelled. You are thinking about not returning?'

He didn't answer, but she could see the truth in his face.

'Your vision showed you the state of Existence if you stay here.'

'Is it for real?'

She took his hand; her fingers were cool and calming.

'He was going to die sooner or later anyway,' he continued, without
meeting her eyes.

'I know what happened to you, Mallory. What you did.' No accusation
marked her face, only pity, and somehow that was worse. He turned away,
sick at what had been laid bare.

Her fingers grew tighter, more supportive. 'As above, so below. As
without, so within. The rules of Existence are simple, Mallory, and
unyielding. To everything there is an opposite, though it may often remain
hidden, and these opposites are continually at war. We choose our sides,
make our stand and hope for the best.'

'How do you know what happened to me?' Briefly, he thought he might
cry.

'Some of us have the ability to peer into Fragile Creatures. But your
essence, Mallory, is so raw that any of us could see. There is a battle raging
in your heart, the same battle that sweeps through all Existence. Which
side you take is within your control, but you will pay the consequences of
your choice.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'There is no need to lie to me, Mallory.' Her voice was so gentle that his
feelings surged again. He had the sudden, aching desire to put his head in
her lap so she could stroke his hair, tell him of good and noble things.
'Your bitterness and despair consume you. Do not let them.'

'What do you know?' he said defensively. He made to break free from
her hand, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

'Let me show you something else.' She turned him so he was once again
staring into the Wish-Post. He had obviously become attuned to the object
for he quickly fell into the swirling whiteness. He dreaded seeing Miller's
dead face again, but this time the snowstorm fell away to show a woman
leading a pack of ragtag travellers along a muddy track. It was Sophie
Tallent.

'Why are you showing me this?' he asked.

'You know, Mallory.'

As Sophie and her band crested a rise, a dark smudge appeared on the
horizon, and though it appeared insubstantial, Mallory knew instantly it
was the thing they had faced at Bratton Camp.

'Now you're trying to tell me that if I don't go back, she'll die too?' he
said acidly. 'You really do want me out of here.'

'No.' Rhiannon pulled him gently away from the pillar; it felt as if white
tendrils were withdrawing from his mind. 'It is important that you are free
to weigh what lies within you, and to make your choices accordingly.

Good or bad, the choice is the important thing. But it is also important you
have all the information to make your decision.'