The Marriage of the Living Dark

“Yes.” She laughed. “You’ve questioned him, I take it”

He nodded. “He seems ... well, quite ordinary really. But who can tell? DeVore’s so devious, I sometimes wake up wondering if I’m really me.” “I know. I dream of mirrors.”

“Mirrors?”

“You know. What they used to call ching.”

“Ah ...” The thought of it chilled him. When the seven T’ang had ruled Chung Kuo, they had kept copies - ching, or “mirrors” - of each T’ang, ready for the day they died, so that their successors could symbolically kill their predecessors before becoming the new T’ang. These dung, made in the nutrient vats of the great genetics company, GenSyn, had been perfect copies of their originals but for one important aspect -their minds. For the dung were blank, unthinking creatures, born and maintained only to be ceremonially slaughtered. The thought that such creatures existed was bad enough, but one further element gave the matter a much too personal twist When his mother had fled Europe in the wake of the collapse of the Ping Tiao, it had been DeVore who had aided -some might say permitted - her escape. In return she had given him a single finger from her right hand. From that he had made himself a mate, a perfect copy of Emily Ascher. A ching, alike in all but her mental processes. A thing, not a proper human.

Like Tybor.

“Emily ... Chao ...”

Tybor ducked beneath the sill and came inside. Even crouched he was a good three feet bigger than Lin Chao, his smooth, hairless arms and head giving him the look of something moulded not grown.

Which was near enough the truth.

“Tybor,” Emily said, embracing the creature. “Is there any news?” “I’m afraid not,” Tybor answered, pulling out a chair and sitting, so as to be on their level. “But ifs early yet. They may have been caught in a storm. The weather’s unseasonably bad.”

“We were talking,” Chao said, changing the subject “About the attempt to break the blockade.”

Tybor glanced at Emily, then turned his inhumanly large eyes on Chao once again.

“Your mother thinks it may have been a bluff of some kind. A diversionary play.”

“And you?”

Tybor smiled; a smile that could have swallowed up a small cartwheel. “I think she may be right” “But what could he be up to? He can’t do anything until he breaks the blockade.” “Or so we’ve been conditioned to think,” Emily said, moving round the back of Tybor and laying her hands on the creature’s shoulders. ‘1 learned an interesting thing the other day. It seems our friend DeVore paid a visit to Ben Shepherd back in the spring.”

Chao frowned. “So?”

“So this. What does Shepherd have that DeVore might want?”

“You think DeVore wants something from Shepherd?”

“Of course. Why else would he pay a visit?”

“To be friendly?”

At that Tybor laughed. “Why, of course! I forgot. The man’s a regular socialite!”

Chao looked down, trying hard not to smile. “So you think he’s using Shepherd somehow?”

“Or trying to,” Emily answered, coming round Tybor to face him. “I can’t see anyone actually telling Shepherd what to do, even DeVore. But I can see the two of them coming to some kind of arrangement” “But about what? Shepherd’s an artist. DeVore ... well, DeVore’s just a homicidal maniac!”

“Yes, but a clever one. And a master of illusions to boot. I’d have let the observation pass but for one thing. Two days ago Ben Shepherd flew in to Bremen. It seems he’s rented a studio apartment there, not five minutes away from DeVore’s headquarters.”

“Convenient, neh?” Tybor said, his huge eyes half-lidded

“But I don’t see...” Chao began, then stopped. “Shells? You think Shepherd is going to make special shells for DeVore?”

Emily half-turned, looking to Tybor. “I don’t think anything ... yet But it might be useful if we could find out, don’t you think?” Chao nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good,” Emily said, touching his arm lightly. “Now lef s go down to the control room. I want to be there when the news conies in.”

Daniel woke, his eyes staring, unable for the moment to remember where he was. All he knew was that he was sitting up, his back against a cold, hard rock, and someone was shaking him.

“Soup?” a voice asked gently. “You want some soup?” He focused on the face in front of him - a plump Han face with disconcertingly dark eyes - then looked past it at the vast and open sky, finally making sense of the huge shapes that surrounded him. Mountains. Of course! He was in the Wilds. “Well?” the crouching man asked. “Are you hungry or not?” Daniel nodded, then took the bowl from the man, grateful for its warmth. He had never been so cold, not even in the dormitories. He looked about him at the camp. In truth, it was little more than a few crude shelters set up among the rocks. The sight of it, and of the roughly-dressed men who sat around, talking quietly among themselves, depressed his spirits. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t this. As he spooned the soup into his mouth he began to wonder whether he hadn’t made a mistake coming here.

Too late, he thought, concentrating his attention briefly on the soup. They’d kill me if I went back.

Or worse.

No. It was no use contemplating going back. He had burned his bridges now. He had seen with his own eyes what they did to those boys who’d tried to run away. Those who’d been caught, anyway.

Even so, he had hoped for... well, for something more than tins, anyway! “More?” the Han asked, coming over to him again and setting the soup pot down beside him.

“Thanks.”

The Han took the bowl, then smiled. “You know, you’re either very very stupid, or very brave, coming out here.”

“What do you mean?”

Daniel watched the ladle dip into the dark broth and lift, tipping more of the tasty soup into his bowl. The Han handed it to him, then answered. “Just that if s a dangerous place.”

“The patrols, you mean?”

He shook his head. “The patrols are the least of it Or were. No, I mean all of the other things. The rogue machines, the creatures.” “Creatures?”

“GenSyn stuff. Things that escaped from their factories after the war. This is where they came. To the Wilds. They made their lairs here.” “And the Machines?”

“Search-and-destroy machines. They date back to the conflict between Li Yuan and the White Tang, Lehmann. Both sides used them to try to make this place a kind of no-man’s-land. Most of them have rusted now, either that or their energy packs have run down, but there are a few that are active. Things that look like stones or rocks, that rest where they were dropped, their systems nine-tenths inactive, waiting for someone to come along and trigger them.” Daniel stared back at the young Han. “And then?” In answer the Han rolled up his sleeve to show the burned tissue of his upper arm. “It took out four of our squad before we even got a trace on it Lin Pei stopped it, but I was in the blast zone. So was my brother, Chan. He took most of the blast’s force.”

Daniel set the soup down. “I’m sorry.” The Han’s smile was gentle, wistful. “So am I.” Daniel looked down a moment, embarrassed, then raised his head again, meeting the man’s eyes. “What”s your name?” “Ho. Yueh Ho.” “I’m pleased to meet you, Ho. I hope we can be friends.” Yueh Ho nodded, then picked up the soup pot by its string and turned away. “I hope so, young Daniel Mussida,” he said, over his shoulder. “I sincerely hope so.”

DeVore looked up as his adjutant came into the room.

“Well?” he asked. “Is it true?”

The adjutant bowed his head. ‘Tes, sir.”

“And when precisely did he disappear?”

“Two days ago, sir.”

“And I wasn’t informed.”

“No, sir, they thought...”

DeVore leaned forward. “Who’s this they1 who’ve been doing so much thinking on my behalf?”

“The Camp Commandant, sir. He ... he thought he could recapture the boy before the matter became serious.”

“But now if s serious, eh?”

The adjutant hesitated, then nodded.

“And they’ve lost the trace, is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

DeVore sat back again, contemplating what that meant. The boy had been wired. But somehow - somewhere - he had managed to get rid of the wire in his head. Or mask it And now he was missing, presumed defected. “Fve two of my best morphs in the morgue. Someone put them there. Maybe it was the boy.”

“Maybe...”

But he could see that the adjutant was not going to make guesses of any kind.r “Okay,” he said, relenting, not wanting to take things out on the man. It was the Commandant he should be angry with, not this messenger. “You can leave me now, Mark. I’ll not need you ‘til the morning.” “Sir!” The adjutant bowed exaggeratedly low, his relief palpable, then backed from the room.

Alone again, DeVore stood, then went to the window, looking out across the moonlit central courtyard of the San Chang and pondering what this meant. It was a blow, admittedly, for he’d had plans for the boy, but if he could find out where he’d gone, then maybe it could be turned around. The wire wasn’t the only implant, after all; there was the boy’s conditioning. And that he couldn’t have removed.

Tomorrow, he told himself. Ill deal with it tomorrow. Right now he would go and visit Shepherd. It was about time he found out what that mad bastard was doing in his rooms.

The moon was bright, casting sharp black shadows on the rocks as she made her way down towards the base camp. There was still no news of Michael and as she looked out across the valley, Emily wondered where he was at that moment. He had said he was onto something special. He’d sent a message six days back telling her he was going to investigate. But since then nothing. She stopped, her hand pressing down tightly on the rough, cold surface of an upjutting rock as she looked south. Be alive, she thought, willing it fervently, her fear for him naked beneath the all-seeing moon. And if he was dead?

Then she would endure that, as she endured all else. A bitter smile crossed her lips. Ah yes, she thought. I am good at enduring. As good as any Han peasant.

The base camp was just below her now. As she came round an outcrop, it lay below her and to her right, tucked between folds of the descending slope. Knowing that DeVore had called off his patrols, they had lit a camp-fire. Within the golden-red pool of its flickering light she could see dark figures moving slowly, almost lethargically in the crisp night air.

If I could only touch you now and hold you, then I would be alright. But that was the risk of loving. Once it had been easy to be a rebel. Once it had cost her nothing to be the firebrand that would burn whole cities down. Back then, alone and unattached, she had been driven solely by vengeance. Now it was much harder. Now, every day was fraught with anxiety. She waited, keeping herself perfectly still and silent, like a piece of the rock of which the mountain was composed, and after a while Tybor came up to her, like a huge shadow looming up out of the darkness.

“Emily,” the morph said, his voice soft and warm, the bulk of him blocking out her view of the camp below. “You should have said you were coming.” “I didn’t know,” she said.

It was the truth. She hadn’t planned to come down, but, restless for news of Michael, she had had to do something, and talk of the boy - the newcomer - had intrigued her. She had decided she would like to see him for herself. “The boy?” Tybor asked, his saucer eyes shining in the moonlight, not a hand’s length from her face.

Emily nodded.

He smiled. “Then I’ll keep dose by. Out of sight Just in case.” Emily reached out, holding his arm briefly, glad he was there. Then, as he slipped away, heading back down into the darkness, she turned once more, looking to the south and wondering where Michael was.

Closing the door quietly behind him, DeVore crossed the room. Ben was sitting beside the harness, hunched forward slightly, adjusting something with what looked like a small knife.

As DeVore bent forward to look, Ben turned his head, looking up at him, a half-smile on his features. “I wondered when I’d see you.””Did you?” “I thought to myself: I wonder how long he can contain his curiosity.”

“And?”

“And here you are, bang on time.”

DeVore shrugged. “So what is it?”

Ben moved back a little, allowing him a clearer view. “Something new.”

DeVore studied the machine a while. “It doesn’t look new.” “Ah, but then looks aren’t everything, are they? If we were to judge by simple appearances, then we’d still be back in the Dark Ages, wouldn’t we?” DeVore laughed. “I thought that you said that we were still in the Dark Ages.”

“I did.”

“Then the appearance of the thing ...

“Is a paradox.” Ben threw the screwdriver down, then turned, facing DeVore fully. “You wanted me to make something that would seduce people from their senses, right? That would, in effect, prise them from their grasp on the real world right?”