Transmission: Ragnarok: Book Two (37 page)

She tore open the envelope. A label, tied to the key with rough twine, showed the address. There was no note.

Sniffing, Rosie wished her luck.

Everything consisted of minutiae: the rippled grain of greyish wood that formed the gatepost, the clink as she raised the latch, the smooth swing of the gate; the
pat-pat
of her shoes on concrete, the smell of roses and damp grass, and the gleam of new paint on the door; the shaking of her hand and the clean metallic sound as the key went in, and she twisted.

Stepped inside, silent and awestruck.

Oh, it’s wonderful
.

Low ceiling with exposed beams, old uneven flagstones forming the floor. She could see through to the kitchen, where Brian sat in his dressing-gown, bare legs revealed, holding a cup of tea in both hands as he—

Both
hands?

The lean face was not Brian’s, and for a moment she thought she must be in the wrong place – but the key, the key fitted – and then footsteps clumped as another figure emerged from what looked like the bedroom. He wore striped pyjama trousers and a white singlet that revealed the stump of his left arm, which looked natural to her.

‘Rupe?’ said Brian. ‘I can’t find—’

When Rupert looked up, he saw her; and then they were both staring.

I’m a day early
.

It felt like her fault, but only for a second.

‘Hello,’ she said.

A milky stain on Brian’s trousers, probably unnoticed by him, confirmed what every sense, including smell, was already telling her.

‘We …’ Brian stopped, then: ‘We can’t help what we are, Gabby.’

‘No.’ She looked at Rupert, who had grown very pale. ‘And you couldn’t help sending me across the Atlantic and out of the way, could you?’

Because Rupert had realized, that day in Baker Street, what had happened the night before between her and Brian. She wondered if they had talked about her since, and what they had said.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rupert. ‘But Brian’s right, we can’t help—’

‘You think it would’ve been all right if I found a
woman
here?’

Her voice was a roar, causing Brian to step back. But his hand was pointing, trembling.

‘Is that …? Are you …?’

‘I am. It is.’ Suddenly she was grim, her rage pulled deep inside like the furnace at the heart of a destroyer. ‘Yours, yes.’

Both men grew even paler.

‘Which is why, when I return to work at BP tomorrow, you’ll use all your influence to stop the whispering. Plus I’ll continue to draw salary while I’m having it’ – she patted herself – ‘and you can make a contribution towards the nanny when I go back to work afterwards.’

Rupert said, ‘That’s impossible. In your condition … and afterwards, unmarried … out of the question. Unless …’

He looked at Brian.

‘Don’t ask him,’ said Gavriela. ‘Ask me. And no, I’m not marrying him or anyone else, so you can forget that.’

It was very clear now.

‘Look.’ Rupert changed his tone. ‘Even if you were married, you know that having a job would be out of the question. In these circumstances, it’s quite impossible to—’

‘What’s impossible,’ said Gavriela, ‘is for you two to stay out of prison if I tell what I know. And don’t tell me there won’t be other evidence all over the place if the police start looking.’

Of course, there was the possibility of violence, the two of them against her, which she had not considered. But they had seen her in action in Baker Street, hadn’t they?

‘Very well,’ said Rupert. ‘We agree.’

Speaking for Brian as if they were a couple.

Well they are, aren’t they?

For a moment she wondered if she were being unfair. But she had an unborn child to think about, and they had betrayed her, both of them in different ways.

‘And I won’t be needing this.’

She put the front-door key down on a small table, beside a single rose in a vase. The petals were edged with brown, and curling.

‘See you at work.’

The front door clicked behind her as she left.

Usually, when Gavriela awoke in the distant future – which became her dreamlike
now
– she felt clear and solid, without any of the contradictions or confusions that defined her earlier life. This time, as she sat up on the bier, she felt conflicted. Then, when her transparent hand cupped her abdomen, she had a sense of emptiness and disturbance.

—
Are you well, dear Gavi?

Roger, her dependable Roger, was standing in the archway. From the points of light glowing overhead, strange reflections glinted in his living crystalline form, his existence here as much a mystery as her own.

—
I’m glad to see you
.

But things were different, and he must have sensed that. He walked close, and went down on one knee. Here, in this strange airless place, it seemed a very ordinary gesture.

—
What is it?

—
I’m … I was pregnant. Back in my old life
.

Save for these dreamed interludes – some lasting for subjective days, weeks, even months – their lives were centuries apart, her death (whenever that might be exactly – whenever it had been) preceding his birth by six centuries.

Roger was staring at her.

—
You’re the woman of my dreams. You know that
.

—Ha
.

A child. Would she have – had she had – further children? If so, they were dust, and so were generations of descendants, if any. She did not know, truly, whether
homo sapiens sapiens
survived; nor could she try to find out, because Kenna had impressed upon them all the dangers of paradox.

Then Kenna’s words were in their heads.

—
Life continues, or there would be no reason to fight for it
.

Roger smiled a crystalline smile.

—
I guess that’s a summons
.

—
It is. Bring swords, unsheathed
.

That was unusual, but there was always a reason for Kenna’s commands. Roger slipped two swords from their wall-mounted scabbards, then held one by the cross-guard, blade down, and offered it to Gavriela. She took it left-handed: it happened to be the nearer hand.

Again Kenna’s words came to them.

—
Ulfr is about to awaken. Escort him, will you?

The overtones were serious, precluding questions. Gavriela led the way; in seconds, she was standing at one side of Ulfr’s bier, Roger at the other. A slight twitch started in Ulfr’s crystalline body, then another. Then his eyes opened and he sat up with legs straight, looking from Roger to Gavriela.

—
You’re guarding me?

—
We don’t know what’s happening
.

—
So we ask Kenna for explanations, as we always do. And shut up if she tells us to
.

Gavriela had resonated, in the distant past, with Ulfr’s fierce berserker energy. Here, if he chose to unleash it, she thought Roger and herself might last two seconds, with luck.

She touched Ulfr’s shoulder with her right hand.

—
We are not enemies, brother
.

Ulfr swung towards her and came to standing.

—
To the main hall, then
.

There, the conference table was missing, while their ornate chairs stood in a row, raised high. Kenna, in the centre, was seated highest, her hands upon the chair-arms, her attention fully upon Ulfr. But what startled Gavriela was the crystalline figure sitting next to Kenna: huge, broad-shouldered, with spreading transparent antlers. Other differences included double-thumbed hands and – though it was hard to tell with bodies of living crystal – what might have been horizontally slitted eyes.

—
This is Sharp
.

Kenna addressed them while focused on Ulfr. She continued:

—
He is one of us, my sister and brothers, as you can see
.

Ulfr’s chest expanded as if inhaling, though they were in vacuum.

—
His smell is not new, yet we meet for the first time
.

Kenna’s tone was calm and not defensive.

—
Our bonding and communication had to evolve differently. Yet we all reach the same place
.

Ulfr shrugged his shoulders as if readying to fight.

—
So we have demons on our council now?

—
Sharp is no demon
.

Then Sharp broadcast his first words, and they were redolent with awareness and courage. Gavriela felt her spine straightening.

—
I fight alongside you, my human brother, against demonkind
.

Kenna stood up.

—
Sharp has proven himself in sacrifice, brave Ulfr, brave Wolf. He will not turn against us
.

Ulfr’s lips pulled back, and his teeth were like fangs of ice, of diamond.

—
And you think I will?

Kenna raised her arms.

—
I did not say that. Some things require testing, that is all
.

Tiny scarlet dots flickered across Ulfr’s transparent skin.

—
What is this?

Sharp, too, stood up, taller even than Kenna. He tilted his head back, chest expanding, much as Ulfr’s had earlier.

—
He is not tainted
.

Ulfr took a step forward. Gavriela shifted, not sure what she should do.

—
What?

—Troubled, but yet untainted
.

Then Ulfr whirled, and two swords were in his hands. Gavriela’s left hand was holding nothing. Roger, off-balanced but only in Lunar gravity, had plenty of time to take a half step and not fall. Ulfr looked at them all, snarling, then threw the swords aside. They tumbled end over end before striking the floor without sound, bouncing before settling.

—
No. Damn you, Kenna. Damn you to Niflheim
.

His crystalline body underwent slow collapse, joint by joint and limb by limb, slumping to a mound upon the flagstones. Roger looked up at Kenna.

—
You did that?

—
No, he severed his own connection
.

—
Severed …?

Gavriela tried to read Kenna’s face. Had she made her first mistake as leader? Emotion swirled inside those eyes, but when Kenna replied her words were definite and sure.

—
You’re not slaves or conscripts. If this is a dream, it is one that does not trap you
.

Roger’s answer was a surprise.

—
Good Sharp, you have helped me in my distant past, so thank you. But Ulfr, too, has saved both me and Gavi. I’m talking about resonance, and the way it …

Kenna interrupted.

—
We understand. But in the Council, to be anything other than single-minded is to be a tool of the enemy. I cannot expect you to understand that at this time
.

Gavriela looked at Roger; he was looking at her. They were drawn to this place – this time – as much by what they felt for each other as whatever Kenna-driven technique enabled it to happen. What if they had been misled, mistaking teamwork for purity of purpose, camaraderie for enlightened conviction?

—
Roger, you know what I feel for you
.

—Dear Gavi, of course, because it’s mutual
.

They understood each other: perhaps the price they paid for being here was too high.

Kenna stepped down towards them.

—
No. You are required in the Council
.

Gavriela dared to face her.

—
That was what we thought. But perhaps we cannot trust our intuitions, not in this environment that you control. How do these bodies even function, anyway?

She looked down at her crystalline body. Even on her first awakening, she had felt natural in this form. How could that have been? What manipulation had prevented a natural human hysteria?

—
Do not ask for explanations
.

—
Why not, Kenna? Why not?

—
Because the answers are dangerous. The act of forming an answer can itself be deadly
.

—
To whom? To you?

Gavriela felt Roger standing at her shoulder, supporting her. Meanwhile the newcomer, Sharp, remained where he was. In Gavriela’s peripheral vision, Ulfr’s form remained slumped on the floor.

Kenna turned away. For a moment, sapphire sparks coursed through her. Then she was clear once more, and turning back to them.

—
This is not the first Ragnarok Council
.

Even Sharp made a movement at this, perhaps an involuntary surprise reaction. Gavriela felt Roger take her hand as he asked: