The White City

10

Mama dumped herself next to Dalip on the crest of the dune and splayed her legs out in front of her. She took a while to get comfortable, wriggling the sand into shape with little movements of her hips and shoulders. Then she sighed.

‘You know that girl’s not coming back, don’t you?’

Dalip chewed at his lower lip and, rather than answer, he reached between his knees for a handful of sand and let it slowly dribble away.

Mama nudged him in the ribs to get his attention. ‘She’s been gone all day. Either Crows did for her or, the other thing happened, as we all feared.’

There was nothing to see that he hadn’t seen for himself every time he looked up. The beach, the bay, the sea, the distant island: that was it. Once in a while, a bird would drift into view and his heart would leap, but they were only ever regular seagulls and they broke his hope a little more each time. Now, the sun was going down and he was in pieces. Today’s achievements had been to dig two graves, lose Luiza, lose Mary, lose the maps, lose the boat and lose Crows. They’d gained a handful of loose change and a plastic egg.

All in all, not a fair exchange.

‘Perhaps she can’t find her way back,’ he said.

‘We’re like pimples on a face, Dalip. We’re in plain view for all to see◦– we’re the orangiest things in the whole of Down. No one is going to miss us here, least of all Mary.’ She waggled her toes. ‘We’re the only ones left, so we have to decide what to do now.’

‘We have to stay here, in case she comes to find us.’ He remembered a similar argument, not so long ago, even though it felt like a lifetime had passed. He’d been on the other side then, persuading the others to move on and away from the portal, while Mama had been all for staying put. He made a face. ‘I know how it sounds.’

‘We can’t stay, can we? We all understand why. There’s nothing left for us here.’ She gestured at the empty beach. ‘We have no wood, no way to light it, no food, no way to catch it, and we can’t hang around here for another boat because we can’t go chasing after them when we have no idea where they went. We’ve got to get on with living as best we can.’

‘What does Elena want?’

‘That girl doesn’t know what she wants at the moment. But the sure thing is, if we stay here she’ll do nothing but weep over Luiza’s grave, and I don’t trust Down to leave her alone in her grief. Once this place has its hooks in you, it doesn’t let go.’ She leaned in, butting her biceps against his. ‘Us three have to stick together, because this place is as cruel as it is beautiful.’

She knew she was right, and so did he. He’d had all those thoughts himself. ‘We can’t go anywhere now. It’s going to be night soon.’

‘We can go under the trees. It’ll be warmer out of the wind.’

‘But that’ll mean…’ He clicked his tongue. She knew what it meant, which is why she suggested it. Get Elena away from her cousin, stop him staring out to sea. ‘Okay. We’d better move while we still have some light.’

Mama hauled herself to her feet, using Dalip’s shoulder as a brace. She held out her hand.

‘Come on, Dalip. We can’t give up now.’

That stung him. He wasn’t giving up, least of all on Mary. She hadn’t deserted them. Not when they were Bell’s prisoners, and not now. So why would he give up on her? She wasn’t dead, either. Not her.

He wanted to say something to that effect to Mama, but all that came out was a growl. He took her hand instead, and she pulled him up. He looked one last time towards the far horizon, and there was still nothing. How was all this possible, when the sun had risen on such promise? He deliberately turned his back and blotted out the view by descending the far side of the dune.

‘We’re,’ he started. He still hadn’t found the right words to say to Elena, and these weren’t right either. ‘We’re going into the forest. We might not be able to light a fire, but I can build a shelter, or at least a windbreak.’ He had a machete, so he wasn’t promising anything he couldn’t deliver.

Elena looked up from the heap of sand that covered Luiza’s body. She’d placed flowers on top, and the plastic egg against the side of the dune at the head end. Those were the only things she had to lay there. Sikhs didn’t mark graves◦– shouldn’t even have graves◦– but this wasn’t his relative or his religion and he didn’t say anything.

Mama went around behind her and gently lifted her up, guiding her with an arm around her, whispering in her ear as she went. It was going to be okay, she said, when the truth was the worst had already happened, and it might never be okay ever again.

At least the forest was still there, and they camped in a little hollow in its scrubby fringes. Dalip found that the machete was incredibly useful: he could cut saplings, split them ready for weaving, sharpen stakes with the edge and hammer them in with the flat side, and chop undergrowth to cover the frame.

It was past twilight by the time he’d finished, and he was utterly exhausted. It was little more than a low semicircular trellis, with a rough roof lain across it, but it would have to do. Mama rolled in, and encouraged Elena to follow. By unspoken agreement, Dalip would sleep just inside the entrance. Best, perhaps, if any of the Wolfman’s men were still hanging around, but that didn’t seem likely. Tomorrow they too would be gone, in a direction yet to be decided.

He got down on the ground himself and stretched out. It was hard, and uncomfortable, but he’d forgotten what it was like to sleep on a bed, and was so tired at the end of every day that it didn’t really matter any more. He lay there, not moving but for his chest and his eyelids, listening to the noises of the night. Mama and Elena were making little mutters as they turned and shuffled, and the softening wind made the shelter creak and scratch. Further out was the static hiss of fluttering leaves, and beyond that was the profound, deep silence of Down that threatened to drown out everything else.

The sky outside darkened to impenetrable black, and even the insects seemed to quieten. His thoughts started to become discordant as he began to drift off, amongst scattered moments of clarity that he would remember later.

Mary would be waiting for them when they woke up, sitting on the beach, wondering where they’d got to.

He could try to make fire: he had soft steel and hard stone to spark together, and plenty of time to practise catching bone-dry tinder alight.

The coins and jewellery would have value as refined metal and cut stones. Keeping them was more than a sentimental connection to home.

He didn’t want to be responsible for Elena and Mama, but just because he didn’t want to be, didn’t mean he wasn’t.

With his hand still curled around the machete’s grip, he slowly fell asleep.

And just as slowly, he woke up.

Yesterday, the moon had risen some time after midnight, and had still been in the sky in the morning before being chased away by the sun. Tonight, he could see the vague glimmer of silver through the woven walls of the shelter, and knew there were still several hours of darkness. That wasn’t what had woken him.

There was a pressure, a weight against him, down his right-hand slide, pinning his arm and the machete against the sandy soil of the shelter floor. In his befuddled state, he couldn’t work them free, and it was only when he pulled hard and Elena grunted against his chest that he realised she was almost lying on top of him, arm across him, leg hooked over his, her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

And he had an erection.

At least he managed to stop himself from panicking. He wasn’t responsible for what happened in his sleep, and neither was she. If he could extricate himself without waking her then no one but him would ever know.

He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, and slid his leg out from under hers. She made no sign of stirring, and he took encouragement from that. Inch by inch, he eased himself away, and even managed to lift her head so that it rested on his arm rather than his shoulder. He reached under her for the machete, and carefully pulled it free.

Only his arm remained trapped, and there seemed no way of moving it without disturbing her. The situation was so foreign to his experience that he was desperate enough to try something he’d seen in a film once.

He bent over until his mouth was near her ear. ‘Elena, roll over,’ he whispered.

She murmured her assent and turned to face the other way, as Dalip slid his arm clear.

It had worked, and he was surprised, but now he had to creep away quietly and find somewhere he could wait his erection out. He tried to rationalise his shame away as he slowly stepped through the deep shadow, but however he tried, he was just embarrassed. His own body betrayed him◦– his cheeks burned with the still-warm memory of her pressed against him◦– and left him vulnerable to improper feelings of lust. There hadn’t been time to build two shelters, but the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, and it should have.

He was a grown man, not a boy, and sharing sleeping space with women wasn’t going to help him keep pure. Especially Elena. He didn’t know if he found her attractive. He didn’t even know if he should be thinking about it, with Luiza not even cold in the ground.

He crouched down and remembered to breathe. It really wasn’t his fault. They were all vulnerable, none of them thinking straight, and nothing untoward had happened. He was doing the right thing now, and that was what was important. He wasn’t some beast who couldn’t control himself: he was fulfilling his vows and keeping the faith.

There were two lights.

The moon was behind him, halfway up the dome of night, a quarter full and appearing as bone-white horns behind the haze of high cloud. Then there was a lesser glow, coming from the beach.

At first, he thought it might be a fire, and that the remains of the Wolfman’s crew had come to the beach. Or Mary. But the light was constant and more blue than red, illuminating the cold mist that was collecting over the dunes. When he stood to check properly, he realised that it was roughly in the direction of both graves.

There was a chance that investigating was exactly the wrong thing to do. No one ever said Down was safe, and this might be one of the bad things that it might inflict on the unwary. On the other hand, if he didn’t hurry, he might miss whatever it was. Down, even when it unleashed storms that required a sacrifice to dissipate them, seemed to have the knack of choosing the right victim.

He picked his way through the brush until he reached the dunes. Climbing the first one confirmed his suspicions, that the light was centred on Luiza and the boat-womb. The air above it shone with a luminous fog that must be visible for miles. It was a beacon◦– if Mary was up there, then she would see it. If not, then, well… whoever else was abroad would look up and wonder.

Dalip walked down to the slack, then up the other side. This was the dip in which he’d interred the Wolfman. No night-time light show for him, weighed down with a load of damp, dirty sand, just decay and corruption. The fog thickened, and glowed brighter.

He didn’t quite know what he was going to find, but it was unexpected in that it wasn’t something from Down at all. As he slipped down the dune, he could see the source of the light was the small plastic egg that Elena had placed as a grave marker.

He picked it up, and he could see his bones through the redness of his fingers, though he could barely look at all. It was bright enough to bring tears to his eyes, even though the egg itself was cool to the touch.

Was it technology from some future London, or was it magic? Would he be able to tell the difference? He hadn’t been able to work out what the thing was before, but a portable light was a portable light and therefore had a high utility.

As he stood there, contemplating the marvel he held, he heard the unmistakable sound of a heavy chain, the metallic rattle of links as they passed over some solid object. For a moment, he thought of the Wolfman, but he was dead and gone and this noise was different anyway: slower and more reverential.

He put the egg back in its hollow and went to look out to sea.

There was a boat◦– no, a ship◦– off shore. In the moonlight, he saw its long, low shape and single mast, and the way both prow and sternposts arced towards the sky. It was big, too, judging from the small rowing boat that had been lowered over the side and was slowly splashing its way towards the gently sloping beach.

Now here was a dilemma worthy of the name. Other people had, without fail, brought nothing but trouble. Dalip should simply hide from them, wake the others and skip further into the forest. If these sailors had been drawn by the light, they could take it◦– if that meant them leaving him, Mama and Elena alone.

And yet, hadn’t he just been thinking about the gifts that Down gave? Here, unbidden, was a ship that might take all of them to the White City, and it looked fast. Perhaps they might even beat Crows there.

If he was a good man on Down, then there had to be others, eventually. If it all went sour, then he could escape and go with his first plan. He took his courage in both hands, and his machete in one, and walked down to meet them.

There were three people in the rowing boat. The two rowers had their backs to him, but a man sat in the stern and spotted Dalip’s silhouette on the shoreline.

‘Hello!’ he called brightly. ‘Friend or foe?’

‘That depends,’ Dalip shouted back. ‘Who are you?’

‘Pirates,’ came the reply, ‘but the good kind.’

‘I know enough about pirates to think you’re lying.’

‘Very well. I’m lying about being a pirate. But we do have a pirate ship.’ The man got up from the stern and crabbed his way towards the bow, stepping over and between the rowers. ‘If I throw you a line, will you take it?’

‘Go on, then,’ said Dalip, and a wet rope uncoiled through the air and smacked down at his feet. He scooped it up and wrapped it through his fists, pulling the line taut. The boat bobbed as the rowers lifted their oars clear of the water, and he walked backwards, pulling the boat through the last of the surf until the keel grounded hard against the sand.

The pirate captain jumped to the beach and scanned the rest of the shore cautiously.

‘No one else? Just you?’

Dalip didn’t know how to answer without knowing the man’s intentions. He said nothing, just rested his hand on the handle of his machete.

‘Can’t be too careful, old man. Calling ourselves pirates usually scares away the baser sort of cove, but there’s always one or two tricky blighters who spring something unexpected.’

The man nodded to his crew, and they stowed the oars.

‘Yonder is the Ship of Fools,’ said the man, ‘and I am Captain Simeon. We saw your beacon light at sunset, and determined we’d see what great wonder or great peril caused such illumination.’

‘Dalip Singh,’ said Dalip. ‘I’ll take you to it if you like.’

‘Gods,’ said Simeon and leaned forward. ‘A Sikh chappie. What a stroke of luck: Pater was ten years in the Punjab and had nothing but respect for your people. Came back riddled with malaria and a fondness for curry, mind. Forever going on about how bland our food was◦– drove Cook to despair.’ He turned to his crew. ‘Come on, then, men. Look lively.’

The two sailors clambered out of the boat and heaved it a little further up the beach. Both were shorter than Dalip, but considerably wider. They looked more than capable of being pirates.

‘Right then, Singh. Lead on.’

Dalip started towards the dunes, and Simeon fell into step beside him.

‘Why do you call it the Ship of Fools?’

‘Well, it was called that long before I ever set eyes on it, long before I became captain, so I can’t take credit for it. But everyone on board is a fool, so the name is most peculiarly apt.’

‘I don’t…’

‘Fools for ever stepping through that door, Singh. For accepting this fate rather than the one God ordained for us. Cowards and fools, every man jack of us. Still, we make the best of it, right, Dawson?’

The square outline of Dawson gave a grunt that could have been yes.

‘There was a fire. A big fire.’

‘And you were at your wits’ end, trapped like a rat, and opened a door. Was that it?’

‘Pretty much. You?’

Simeon laughed. ‘Oh, nothing so dramatic. My gambling debts had caught up with me, I’m afraid, and I was hiding in a broom cupboard under the stairs. The, shall we call them gentlemen, I owed money to◦– several hundred pounds at the time◦– were searching my lodgings upstairs. And when I say search, I do mean they were very thorough. I could hear my worldly goods breaking through the stout planks, and then heard their feet above my head. Some urchin, damn his eyes, on the promise of a shiny sixpence or two to keep mum and direct the dastards back on to the street, gave me up and gained a shilling for his troubles. Nothing for it, I thought. They could drag me out and do whatever they wanted to my mortal frame, or I could show them a clean pair of heels.’

‘And you saw Down.’

‘Indeed I did. I couldn’t work it out at first, then like the impulsive idiot that I was, thought I’d chance it. Many adventures later, here I am. Not the same man, either.’ Simeon paused long enough to twist his mouth into a sour smile. ‘But everyone here changes, eventually.’

They were at the top of the dune, and Dalip pointed to the brightest part of the luminous fog.

‘I buried one of my friends yesterday. I took the light from the man who killed her.’

Dawson slid down the slope and retrieved the egg, and held it up for Simeon to see.

Simeon rubbed his pointed chin for a moment. ‘Just one question, old chap. Why did you let it shine?’

‘We left it here to mark the grave, not knowing it was a light. But when I woke up, and found it like that, I… what was the worst that could happen? We’re pretty much beaten. We’ve nothing left but hope.’

‘You do realise that one of those damned geomancers could be along in a minute to stitch you up like a kipper and drag you away to their lair?’

‘We’ve already done that. Didn’t fancy it much, so we escaped. Are you,’ asked Dalip, trying to stop himself from pleading, ‘taking on crew?’

‘Who are the we?’

‘There’s three of us left. Everyone else is either dead or missing.’

‘We have berths. It’s an uncertain life, being a pirate, but I’ve found it’s safer on the briny than land, and we’re a merry band◦– Dawson notwithstanding. The rules are few, but we have to work together to protect our freedom. Jeopardise the ship and you’re over the side, which is somewhat unfortunate if there’s no land around. If you agree to follow my orders and learn to be useful, we’ll take you aboard. What do you say?’

‘I’ll put it to the others.’ Dalip thought for a moment, then dug through his pockets. ‘I don’t know if this means anything but I can pay our way.’

He held out two fistfuls of coins and let them fall into Simeon’s cupped hands.

‘Hah. I told you. Sikhs: good, honest men.’ He tipped the treasure into his three-cornered hat. ‘Go and fetch your fellows. We’ll wait for you by the boat. Dawson: hide that light.’