The Shadow and Night (19 page)

He started the power up again and they moved on down quietly to the houses, where he parked near the rotorcraft pad and switched everything off.

The dogs came running out and carefully encircled the machine.
Poor old Spotback. I do wonder what happened to him.
As he opened the hatch and got out on his side, the dogs edged warily nearer, yapping vigorously at him. Merral stopped, struck by their behavior. It was extraordinary how they seemed much more cautious than in the past.
Perhaps, they know better than we do what is going on.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was suddenly compressed in an embrace by his aunt. “Oh, Merral! Thank you for coming. We are so grateful. . . . We don't know what to think—”

She stiffened suddenly as Isabella appeared round from her side of the machine.

“Aunt,” said Merral, sensing the awkwardness, “I brought Isabella. She has more experience with young girls.”

A look of incomprehension, or even annoyance, passed over his aunt's face, only to be replaced swiftly by a smile. “Oh. Yes. I see.” She grabbed Isabella in a firm and hasty hug.

“And thank you for coming too.” Zennia turned to Merral. “Elana is in her room. The other girls and Thomas are at school. Come on in and I'll get you both a drink. Barrand is on his way down from the ridge. He wasn't expecting you so soon. He's making the most of the dry weather.”

Leaving Isabella to look at some recent paintings, Merral went into the kitchen. “Aunt, I want to apologize. I should have warned you that I was bringing Isabella.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn't matter. It's just that—”

He waited for an answer and reluctantly she continued. “I was hoping, I suppose, that we could keep it within the family. If you know what I mean. Elana's problem. It's . . . well . . . a
sensitive
matter.”

“But, Aunt, if she has a problem, then it affects the community. And it may be that the problem isn't with her.”

“But it particularly affects us. It will not look good.”

Puzzled, Merral replied, “Who cares?”

“
We
do, Merral, I'm afraid.”

Oh dear. We never used to worry about what others felt about us. What
has
happened here?

When they had passed on all the news and finished their coffee, Zennia took them up to the room they had moved Elana to. Pleading work, she left them there.

Elana was lying faceup on the bed reading a book projected onto the ceiling above her head. She switched it off abruptly after they entered, half got up, and then slumped back onto the bed. Her face was pale.

“Cousin Merral! I heard you might be coming.”

He kissed her. “I've brought Isabella to see you. She heard you weren't well.”

Elana gave her a mischievous smile. “Some excuse! Hi, Isabella.”

After a few minutes of news and pleasantries, Isabella sat by the bed and said in a matter-of-fact voice, “You had a nasty time the other day I gather, Elana.”

“Hmm, yes.”

“Would you mind—if it doesn't hurt too much—telling me and Merral about it? Slowly. You went for a walk, didn't you?”

Gradually, bit by bit, the story unfolded. Merral, sitting to one side, watched both as they talked and was impressed by Isabella's gentleness and the slow, steady way she worked at the questions. When, as frequently happened, Elana dried up, Isabella would quietly and softly try another angle. The story that emerged, however, was little more than an elaboration of what Merral had already heard. Elana had been on her own, climbing the path to the north-northwest of Herrandown, when she saw the beetle man in the bushes. He made no noise but just stared at her. When she screamed, he vanished.

After praising some paintings on a desk nearby, Isabella managed to get Elana to do a drawing. After some minutes, she had produced a result that, while being crude, was enough to give an impression of what she was trying to describe. The overall picture was of a vaguely manlike figure. It had a narrow face with two eyes and mouth on top of a body with a chest that appeared to be made of plates.

“Like a suit of war armor from the early Dark Times?” Merral asked, but the concept was unknown to her. Further questions revealed a firm and unshakable view that there had only been one pair of hands and legs and that the body casing was brown and shiny, like a beetle's.

“Or like wood?” Merral asked, wondering whether the whole thing was a bizarre illusion based on a fallen log.

“Oh no,” she said in firm voice. “Not like wood. Not really. I suppose the surface, the shell, looked like polished wood—dark wood.” She gestured to the varnished planks on the wall opposite. “But you see, Merral, the bits moved together, like they do on an insect.”

Merral and Isabella shared a bemused glance.

After a few more questions that seemed to elicit nothing new, Elana began to be restless. “Please, Merral, Isabella . . . I'd rather not talk any more. It was horrid!”

Isabella looked at Merral, who reached over and patted Elana gently on her shoulder.

“Thanks, young lady. You'll soon be better. The weather is improving no end. We'll see you before we go.” With a few general comments they slipped out, closed the door, and went back downstairs. Halfway down Merral turned to Isabella, expecting her to say something. She merely shook her head.

“Go on,” he said.

Isabella shrugged her shoulders. “What do
you
think?”

“Me? I have no idea. If it wasn't impossible, I would believe her. But it's your opinion I value. What do you think?”

“A convincing vision,” Isabella remarked gravely. “It's no game or joke. She is certain that what she saw is real.”

“Which is different from saying that what she saw was real.”

“Quite so. And that is out of my area.”

“And into mine. But well done anyway. You did better than I could do.”

“Thanks.”

They were talking with Zennia a few minutes later when Barrand came in from outside, his gray overalls heavily stained with reddish brown mud. He greeted them all with smiles. If Isabella's arrival had been news to him, Merral thought that he did not show it. “Sorry, sorry. Business as usual here. Merral, here, give me a hug. I'm expecting your quarry team any day. Isabella, how lovely to see you. Let's give you a hug too. Excuse the dirt. Thank you both for coming.” He sank into a chair heavily and breathed out loudly. “Ohh, I'm getting old. Not enough exercise this winter. How was your journey?”

“All right: a washout at about the thirty-five kilometer post.”

“Ah, there. A wild stream again. But a lot of mud?”

“Of course.”

There was a long silence that Merral felt obliged to break. “Uncle, we had a long chat with Elana.”

There was the faintest hint of a frown on his uncle's face. “Ah yes. So how did you find my eldest daughter?” To Merral his tone sounded strangely lacking in compassion.

Merral looked at Isabella, who hesitated a moment before answering. “Well, Barrand Antalfer, I'm no specialist, but I would think she'll be all right in a few days. She's had a nasty shock.”

“I'm glad to hear what you think.” Barrand nodded impassively and then looked at Merral. “You are both staying for lunch, I take it?”

There was an awkward pause. Merral looked at Isabella and could see her staring at his uncle as if summoning up courage to say something. Eventually, though, it was Merral who found himself breaking the silence.

“Uncle, Elana said she saw it about this time of day. As the issue of the lighting is critical, can we go and see where it . . . where she had the incident? Could we go and have a look? Now?”

Barrand pursed his heavy lips. “To see the place. Well, yes. I don't see why not.” There was a curious hesitation. “Both of you? Anyway, I suppose I'm already in outdoor clothes.”

He's either acting or he doesn't care,
Merral decided.
And either is bizarre. What is going on here?

Five minutes later, they were walking up the muddy track to the hill. It was still cold, but the clouds had thinned so that there was enough sunlight to cast faint shadows. Under the trees, however, the shadows remained deep. Some of the spring flowers were out. There was a fine display of little yellow daffodils in places, and along a rockier patch bright pink cyclamens glowed.

Barrand, still apparently cheerful, led the way. “It began to rain shortly afterward. It's been a rotten spring. The worst I can remember. The children have been indoors a lot.”

“Elana said it had been one of the first good days.” Isabella's voice was unobtrusive.

“Just so. Now, it was up here.”

They turned up a slippery path between stringy pines and old, brown, straggling brambles. The way narrowed and they fell into single file.

“Can I go ahead?” Merral asked. “Stop me when we get there.”

“Be my guest.”

They made poor progress, as every so often Merral would stop to look at the ground. There were few clear impressions. Once he felt he could see a child's footprints, and in another place, boot marks that belonged to Barrand.

They kept on for another hundred meters. Here the trees had grown higher, and behind the shrubs and bushes flanking the path, a heavy darkness lay under the lower branches. Merral stopped, gestured for silence, and strained his ears as he listened. He soon heard the noise of scrabbling as a rabbit fled, far away a distant buzzard mewed, and somewhere nearby there was the faint hum of a power saw at another farm. Carefully, Merral breathed in, but he could only smell the new flowers, the clean aroma of the pines, and the faint odor of the new young garlic.

Nothing he heard or smelled was wrong or unfamiliar. Objectively, there was nothing alarming, nothing untoward. And yet, he had an inescapable feeling that something was not right.

They walked on, gradually climbing up above the hamlet. Despite being chilly, the day seemed oddly oppressive, and Merral felt keenly that he wanted the clouds to open and the sun's rays to break through. He glanced around, noticing Isabella's pinched and strained face, while Barrand bore an expression of unnatural unconcern.