The Night's Dawn Trilogy (385 page)

We have no future returning to Mirchusko. The Laymil are no longer a mystery.

I know. But I’m still not converting to Edenism. We’re unique, you and I. We might have been created for one purpose, but
we’ve evolved beyond that now. We have our own lives to live; we have the right to chose our own future.

If the possessed don’t do that for us.

They won’t. Joshua’s flight is only one of a hundred different explorations into this problem. The human race will surmount
this.

Not without change. Edenism will change, they will surely have to rethink their attitude to religion.

I doubt it. They’ll see the beyond as justifying their stance that spirituality is a null concept, everything has a natural
explanation however bizarre. Laton telling them they won’t be caught in the beyond will simply reinforce their position.

Then what do you propose?

I’m not sure. Perhaps nothing except for a clean start in a new star system. After that we’ll see what happens.

Ah. Now I think I understand the urge for you to have and keep this child. You intend to found a new culture. A people who
have affinity, but outside the context of Edenism.

That’s very grand: founding a culture. I’m not sure my ambition extends to that.

You are a Saldana. Your family has done this once already.

Yes, but I’ve only got one womb. I can hardly birth an entire race.

There are ways. Exowombs. People who might like to try something new. Look how many youngsters flocked to Kiera Salter’s call—false
though it was. And new habitats can be germinated.

Ione smiled.
This excites you, doesn’t it? I’ve never known you quite so enthusiastic before.

I am intrigued, yes. I had never given the future much consideration. My life has been spent running human affairs and dealing
with the Laymil project.

Well, we’ll have to wait until the immediate crisis is over before we consider our options. But it would be something, wouldn’t
it? Creating the first post-possession culture, one that overthrows this ridiculous Adamist prejudice against bitek. We could
incorporate the best of both cultures.

Now you talk like a true Saldana.

______

Luca Comar reined in his horse at the end of the drive, and dismounted to wait. It was near to midday, and people were drifting
in from the fields to take a break. He didn’t begrudge them that, the sticky heat was quite something. Bloody unnatural for
Norfolk.

But it was the community’s choice. Every day’s weather was a constant summer optimum, with bright light and warm breezes;
while the nightly rains doused the land. Such a combination produced a vicious humidity. He was worried it might start to
affect the aboriginal plants; late summer was normally a period of gradually increasing rain and reducing heat. There was
also the question of how they’d react to missing Duchess’s crimson light. So far there was no visible malaise, but he felt
uneasy about it.

But these conditions seemed to be doing wonders for the new cereal crops. He’d never seen them so advanced. It was going to
be a great harvest. Things are getting back to normal.

You could tell the world was at rights just from the general mood. There was a heartiness that’d been missing before. Individual
homes were being taken care of, kept properly clean and tidy, not just
wished
presentable. People paid attention to their clothes and general appearance.

And there’d been no sign of Bruce Spanton and his motley crew for awhile now. Though Luca had heard from other community leaders
he was down at the southern end of Kesteven, giving decent folk a hard time. Apart from the odd problem like that, this was
becoming a good life, gentle and unhurried. Satisfying.

Oh really, you’ll live it for a quintillion years, will you?

Luca shook his head, clearing it to open his perception wide. He’d sensed her approaching early this morning. A solitary figure
making her way across the wolds, a knot in the uniformity of thought enveloping the county. Unhurried, untroubled. Not a threat
like Spanton. But certainly a curiosity. Something about her was slightly out of kilter. He didn’t have a clue what.

So just before Cricklade’s lunch bell was rung, Luca had told Johan he would go and investigate the stranger. They still had
newcomers drift in. Anyone prepared to work was given a place in the community.

The stranger was half a mile away now, dawdling along the main road in some kind of vehicle. Luca frowned. That’s a Romany
caravan. The sight was a pleasing one, bringing up the old memories. Young girls pleased with his attentions, the coquettish
and blatant. Their bodies yielding willingly, in fields of tall corn, secluded glades, darkened caravans. Year after year
I proved my sexuality with them.

I?

He wrapped his horse’s reins around one of the spikes on the huge wrought iron gate, feet shuffling impatiently. The caravan’s
driver must have been aware of his mood, yet her horse’s plodding gait never altered. It was a big sturdy horse, Luca saw
while it was on the last couple of hundred yards, its piebald coat muddied and a wild mane in long tangles. He got the impression
that it could have hauled the caravan right round the world without pausing.

It kept on coming, and Luca twitched slightly, knowing his nerve was being tested. He refused to give ground as the huge beast
lumbered inexorably towards him. At the last minute, the woman sitting on the driver’s bench
clucked
softly, and pulled back on her slender reins. The caravan halted, rocking slightly on its lightweight spoke-sprung wheels.
Carmitha applied the brake, and hopped down. She studied the man edging cautiously round Olivier. The horse whinnied at him.

“Greetings,” he said. Then gave a sudden start as he found himself staring into the twin barrels of her shotgun. Not for the
first time, she regretted giving Louise Kavanagh her pump-action weapon.

“My name is Carmitha. I am not one of you. I am not a possessor. Is that a problem?”

“None!”

“Good. Believe me, I will know if it becomes one. I do have some of your powers.” She concentrated, and the seat of Luca’s
trousers became very hot indeed.

He twisted about, frantically slapping at the fabric with his hands before it started smouldering. “Bloody hell.”

Carmitha smiled artfully. His thoughts were equally agitated, pastel whorls of colour that hung just outside her physical
sight. I can read them, she told herself happily. Along with the rest of the magic.

The heat gone, Luca squared himself, recovering some dignity. “How did you…” His jaw moved silently. “Carmitha? Carmitha!”

She shouldered the shotgun, and brushed some loose strands of hair from her face. “I see part of you remembers. Then, no man
would ever forget an afternoon in my bed.”

“Eh.” Luca blushed. The memories were certainly strong and colourful, with her vital flesh hot beneath his hands, the smell
of her sweat, rapturous grunting. He felt the stirrings of an erection.

“Down boy,” she murmured laconically. “What do you call yourself these days?”

“Luca Comar.”

“I see. At the town they said you were the one in charge up here. Nice irony, that. But then you’re all reverting.”

“I am not reverting!” he said indignantly.

“Of course not.”

“How have you got our powers?”

“I’ve no idea. It must be something to do with this place you’ve taken us to. After all, you don’t have any contact with the
beyond any more, do you?”

“No. Thank God.”

“So it must be the way everybody’s thoughts impinge on reality here. Congratulations, you made us all equal in the end. Grant
must be real pissed about that.”

“If you say so,” he said disdainfully.

Carmitha had a throaty chuckle at the umbrage on show. “Never mind. Just as long as you lot realize you can’t turn me into
a host for one of your own anymore, we’ll get along okay.”

“What do you mean, get along?”

“It’s very simple. I hate what you’ve done to these people, don’t be under any illusion about that. But there’s nothing I
can do about it; nor you, now. So I might as well try and live with it, especially as you’re reverting and re-establishing
everything that’s gone before.”

“We are not reverting,” he insisted. Yet there was the nagging worry about just how much of Grant Kavanagh’s personality he
was employing these days. I must stop being so dependent on him, treat him as encyclopaedia, nothing more.

“Okay, you’re not reverting, you’re mellowing out. Call it whatever you want to salvage your dignity. I don’t care. Now, I’ve
spent the last few weeks hiding out in the woods, and I’m getting very sick of cold rabbit for breakfast. I also haven’t had
a hot bath for a while either. As you’re probably aware. So I’m looking for a place to stay over for a while. I’ll pull my
weight, cooking, cleaning, pruning; whatever you like. It’s what I always do.”

Luca pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip. “You shouldn’t have been able to hide from us before. We’re aware of the whole
world.”

“My people still have the earthlore your kind—both of you—have forgotten. When you brought magic back into the world, you
made the old enchantments strong again, no longer just words mumbled by crazed old women.”

“Interesting. Are there any more of you?”

“You know how many caravans are here for the midsummer collection. You tell me.”

“I don’t suppose it matters. Even if all the Romanies survived, you don’t have the power to take us back to the universe we
escaped from.”

“That idea really frightens you, doesn’t it?”

“Terrifies, actually. But then you can see that if you have got our ability.”

“Hummm. So, do I get to stay?”

He deliberately let his gaze meander over her leather jerkin, remembering the full breasts and flat belly which lay beneath.
“Oh, I think I can find room for you.”

“Ha! Well don’t even think about that!”

“Who, me? I’m not Grant anymore.” He walked back to his horse, and took the reins off the gate.

Carmitha slid her shotgun into the leather holster beside the seat, and started to lead Olivier along the drive with Luca.
The caravan wheels crunched loudly on the gravel. “Damn this humidity.” She wiped a hand across her brow, mussing her hair
again. “We are going to have a winter, aren’t we?”

“I expect so. I’ll certainly make sure we have it on Kesteven, anyway. The land needs a winter.”

“Make sure! My God. What arrogance.”

“I prefer to call it practicality. We know what we need, and we make it happen. That’s one of the joys of this new life. There’s
no fate any more. We control destiny now.”

“Right.” She looked round the grounds of the big stone manor house as they approached it. Surprised by how little had changed.
But then the possessed tendency to establish glorious facades over everything they occupied was nullified here. When you already
live in what was essentially a palace, you don’t need gaudy energistic trinkets to enhance your status. For some reason, the
sight of the well maintained fields was comforting. The normality, I suppose. What we all crave.

Luca led her into the courtyard at the side of the house. The solid stone walls of the manor and the stable wings magnified
the clatter which the hooves and caravan wheels made on the cobblestones. It was hotter in the confines of the courtyard,
too. Something Carmitha’s small energistic ability could do little about. She took off her jerkin, ignoring the way Luca openly
looked at the way her thin dress stuck to her skin.

One of the stables was a burnt-out hulk, with long soot-marks lashing up over the stone above each empty window. The centre
of its slate roof had collapsed inwards. Carmitha whistled silently. Louise hadn’t been lying. Several groups of field labourers
were sheltering from the radiant sky in open doorways. They were munching on big sandwiches and baguettes, passing bottles
round. Carmitha could feel every pair of eyes on her as Luca took her over to the remaining stable.

“You can put Olivier in here,” he said. “I think the stalls are big enough. And there’s oats in the sacks at the far end.
The hose is working as well, if you want to wash him down first.” It was something of which he seemed quite proud.

Carmitha could well imagine Grant’s Kavanagh’s reaction if the hose hadn’t been working. “Thank you, I’ll do that.”

“Okay. Are you going to sleep in the caravan?”

“I think that’s for the best, don’t you?”

“Sure. When you’re ready, go into the kitchen and ask for Susannah. She’ll find something for you to do.” He started to walk
away.

“Grant… I mean Luca.”

“Yeah.”

Carmitha held her hand out. Light sparked sharply off the diamond ring. “She gave it to me.”

Luca stared at it in shocked recognition, and took a couple of fast paces towards her. He grabbed her hand and brought it
up in front of his face. “Where are they?” he demanded hotly. “Damnit, where did they go? Are they safe?”

“Louise told me about the last time she saw you,” Carmitha said coolly. She glanced pointedly at the burnt out stable.

Luca clenched his fists, his face contorted in anguish. Every thought in his head was suffused with shame. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…
Oh, shit! Goddamn it. Where are they? I promise you, I swear, I am not going to hurt them. Just tell me.”

“I know. It was a crazy time. You’re ashamed and sorry, now. And you’d never harm a hair on their heads.”

“Yes.” He made an effort to regain control. “Look, we did terrible things. Brutal, inhuman things. To people, women, children.
I know it was wrong. I knew the whole time I was doing it, and I still kept on doing them. But you don’t understand what was
driving me. Driving all of us.” He shook an accusing finger, shouting. “You’ve never died. You’ve never been that insanely
fucking
desperate
. Lucifer’s deal would have been the most blessed relief from that place we were imprisoned. I would have done that. I would
have walked right through the gates of hell and begged to be let in if I’d just been given the chance. But we never were.”
He crumpled, energy withering from his body. “Damnit. Please? I just want to know if they’re all right. Look, we’ve got some
other non-possessed here, kids; and there’s more in the town. We look after them. We’re not total monsters.”