The Adjacent Part 25

'My wife. I was with my wife, at that place. The one in the desert you and I left together. If we were together then you must have been there too.'

'No. I wasn't there. It was an army post. Soldiers everywhere.'

'You're as unsure as I am. I think it was a hospital, a field hospital. My wife was a nurse. Is a nurse. Something happened to her. Do you remember my wife?'

'There were no nurses when we left, or doctors. No one ill. Just soldiers.'

'I don't remember soldiers,' Tallant said.

'They were militiamen, I think. A bit of a rabble.'

'But who were they? Prachous is a wealthy island, heavily regulated. There's no need for private armies.'

'Didn't you take photographs while you were there?'

'Yes. They're still in my camera.'

But all three of his cameras were in their cases, now inside his bag, lying against the wall on the far side of the room. To get them would mean turning away from this woman who wanted him, fiddling with the luggage and the closures and fasteners, checking through the three cameras to remember which one he had used, and when.

'Tomorrow,' he said. 'I'll show you tomorrow.'

'Still evading, then. Come and lie beside me, Tomak.'

Briefly, he glimpsed in her expression the same sort of uncertainty he himself was feeling. There was a gap in his memory, like a period of amnesia, but in fact it was the opposite of that. Not a gap but a presence, an infilling. He had too many memories, but none of them was precise, or more exactly his own. They weren't real they were just good enough narratives. All he knew for sure was the experience of the last three days he had spent with this intriguing woman, and more exactly still, the last several minutes.

'Will you stay with me here tonight?' he said to her.

'I could.'

'Will you? Do you want to?'

'I no longer wish to be alone.'

As he lay beside her she reached for him, stroked his belly, stroked the top of his legs. He did not need her to encourage him, but as he placed his arms around her and they both stretched across the old mattress, he felt her hands go behind him. For now, reality was the sensation of her strong hands on his backside, her fingernails pressing into him. He let the noises from outside drift away into the background, he ignored the squalid room in which they lay. One of his hands was lightly holding the back of her head, his fingers buried in Firentsa's short, curly hair, while he pressed his lips to hers the other hand held and caressed one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He was lost in the moment. Ahead would be an arrival at the coast, perhaps tomorrow, somewhere by the sea, with a prospect of winds, the taste of salt on his lips and the sound of the waves, the famous reefs and lagoons that fenced this difficult island. He dreamed of finding a harbour, a s.h.i.+p that would carry him away, or a beach to lie on in idleness, or an apartment to rent in a harbourside village, or a reunion with his wife, who was somewhere here. He wished he could remember her name.

6.

REVENGER.

The five leading families of Prachous are called Drennen, Galhand, a.s.sentir, Mercier and Wentevor. The names are known to everyone living on the island, but few ordinary people are ever likely to meet any member of these families.

Although by reputation the five families have always been involved in deep and vicious feuds with each other, in modern times they have come to an accommodation and have arranged matters to suit themselves. Some of the family members live permanently on other islands, many of them travel in pursuit of their extensive business interests, but most of them stay within their family Keeps: these are immense family estates situated in the more inaccessible parts of the island. The leading families have little contact between themselves, or so it is believed.

The background of these families has to a large extent created the code of criminal justice for which Prachous is notorious throughout the archipelago.

Because Prachous is a feudal society, private property does not exist. All land, infrastructure, services, businesses, homes and even individual objects are ultimately in the owners.h.i.+p of one or other of the ruling families. Use of them is paid for by t.i.thes. These are collected annually under strict rules of enforcement, through a system of collection agencies administered by professional specialists. The civilian policier force has wide and repressive powers of arrest, detention and prosecution, but few Prachous residents are foolhardy enough to break local laws, except inadvertently or in trivial matters. Prachous is an unquestioning, subservient, materialistic society, where acceptance is rewarded and authority is rarely challenged.

Of course there are many small offences, most of which are committed because of personal disputes, bad behaviour when drunk, minor breakages or, most frequently of all, traffic or driving offences. These are inevitable in any society. On Prachous they are not dealt with under the criminal code. The traditional means of dealing with offenders is for the aggrieved to take revenge.

In some cases the aggrieved is of course an individual, but more often the grievance is said to be felt by the community at large, when civic retribution is allowed. For example, there is no law prohibiting anyone driving around under the influence of alcohol or drugs, so if anyone is arrested for that the policier treat it as a civic matter. The driver is then handed over to his or her neighbours.

All Prachoits know, understand and abide by the principle of proportionate revenge. Retaliation must be in proportion to the offence if the revenge oversteps that proportion, then the right to revenge is pa.s.sed back.

Schoolchildren in Prachous are always taught that one of the patois names of the island means REVENGER.

Prachous is therefore a conforming society regulated by apprehension. Prachoits enjoy their lives few of them ever emigrate to other islands, or even try to. The t.i.the regulations discourage emigration, but the will is not there. Life on Prachous is benign. Most of the island is scenically beautiful, especially in the mountainous regions. Although the interior of the island is hot, the tropical climate is tempered in all the main areas of coastal settlement by cool sea currents and the prevailing winds. The cities are clean, safe and prosperous. There are sports and leisure facilities everywhere. Prachoits are free to travel anywhere on the island, except of course within those parts reserved for the leading families. They enjoy an uninhibited freedom of speech and expression, of a.s.sembly, of opinion. The internet is controlled and monitored by the family representatives, so it is not widely used. The day to day effect of the feudal system brings easy access to almost any material possession. Prachoits are comfortable, contented.

Prachous is a secular island. Religious observation is tolerated but not encouraged.

Culturally, Prachous is something of a backwater. Although sponsors.h.i.+p schemes for Prachoit artistes do exist, funded anonymously by the Galhand and a.s.sentir clans, few artistes appear to take advantage of them. Most of the available funds are handed over to local amateur dramatics groups, evening cla.s.ses and self-publis.h.i.+ng ventures. Prachoit writers, musicians, painters, composers and so on are encouraged not to emigrate, but many of them do. Most Prachoit books or films, produced on other islands, depict Prachous in an unfortunate light, which because of the revenge laws makes returning to their home island a problem. The performing arts are well supported, although conventional in form. Experimental work is not encouraged.

7.

THOM THE THAUMATURGE.

Thom the Thaumaturge was born in the Prachoit town of Waalanser, a dull and workaday place on the north coast. The main industries in Waalanser at the time of Thom's birth were fis.h.i.+ng and a.s.sociated activities, such as the smoking, canning and freezing of fish, and a number of manufacturing and mining industries which grew up around the valuable mineral wealth buried in the surrounding hills. For Thom, it was a place to escape from and this he did at the age of seventeen. A touring group performed an evening of live dance, mime and magic, which fired Thom with the urge to become a performer. The show was closed down by the authorities after only one performance and the troupe left town, but they had done enough to change Thom's life.

As soon as he could Thom set off in pursuit of the travelling players, believing, wrongly as it turned out, that they were touring the coastal towns of Prachous. He headed west along the scenically dull northern sh.o.r.e of the island, turning south with the curving of the coast after Ryneck Point, seeking news of the band of players in every town he came to.

It was not long before he came to realize that either he had set off in the wrong direction or the troupe had dispersed after their hostile reception in Waalanser. He never saw or heard of them again. By this time he was beyond disappointment. He had already developed a taste for the freedom of the road, for moving on and around, sc.r.a.ping a living doing whatever casual work he could find. Occasionally, he was able to find temporary or seasonal jobs with one of the theatres, music halls or cinemas he came across, but most of the odd jobs he landed during these early years were on construction sites or in kitchens. He learnt the rudiments of a dozen trades as he went along, but most of all he discovered that Prachous society had little interest, at best, in the entertainment arts.

However, he was happy and contented, teaching himself theatrical skills as he went along. He learned to dance, to recite, to work marionettes, to play acceptably on half a dozen musical instruments. He learned mime, fire-eating and modest acrobatics he could ride a unicycle and juggle wooden clubs, and for a while both at the same time. For a few blissful weeks he found work in a travelling circus, but the circus came from another part of the archipelago. The circus management's visa forced their stay on Prachous to be short. Thom parted company with the other performers when they told him they had booked a steams.h.i.+p pa.s.sage to the distant island of Salay.

By the time Thom was in his mid-twenties he had become an accomplished magician, not so much through inclination as the gradual realization that the conservative burghers of these bourgeois Prachoit towns did still enjoy the sight of live magic.

As the years went by he had become more skilful and adept at the art of conjuring, able to match the expectations of different audiences. What would thrill the members of a business seminar seeking diversion was not the same repertoire as he would perform for retired people in one of the seaside towns.

His itinerant life gradually lost its appeal and after his twenty-fifth birthday he found an apartment in the east coast town of Beathurn, surrendered his least-used magical apparatus as a depositing t.i.the, and became permanently resident at an address for the first time since leaving his parents' home.

Living in Beathurn turned out to suit him. It came close to having what Thom considered to be civilized values, not the least of which was the presence of a working theatre Il-Palazz Dukat Aviator, or 'The Grand Aviator Palace'. This oddly named venue was a well-equipped theatre, which the management insisted on filling with an apparently endless stream of pop tribute bands, evangelists and celebrity chefs. Once or twice a year there was a general variety show, but the acts were unimaginative and repet.i.tive. There was also a cinema, an extensive lending library, a music store and a bookshop.

For a while Thom worked part-time as a licensed pavement performer: singing, playing, sometimes juggling and always performing street magic. He became well known in the town, but he was constantly frustrated in his attempts to be given a booking at the theatre. Every now and then he would earn a gig in one of the neighbouring towns: a party or an event, sometimes guesting in private drinking or gambling clubs, and once or twice even given the chance to perform on a stage, but Il-Palazz remained persistently out of reach.

One day, though, when Thom the Thaumaturge was thinking at last that he might retire from performing, he saw a letter printed in the local newspaper. It gave him an idea.

8.

The letter was from a man who had spent some time travelling around the Dream Archipelago, and during his journey had seen something he described as a true and baffling mystery.

On the island of Paneron he and his family had witnessed what they considered to be a miracle. He had seen a shaman or a fakir, or some other kind of wild religious zealot, make a young boy disappear from sight in extraordinary circ.u.mstances. The letter writer was imprecise with detail, but said it had taken place in the open air, on a patch of recently mown gra.s.s, with no a.s.sistants and with scores of spectators on all sides.

The letter closed with an appeal to anyone who might have an explanation for what had happened to make contact with him care of the newspaper.

Thom, sensing that this man had seen a skilled illusionist at work, knew that one of the invariable conditions of illusionism was that the audience only saw what they were intended to see, and that they would contentedly a.s.sume the rest. What was in fact going on was something else entirely. There was enough description in the letter to convince Thom that this was such an illusion, but annoyingly the details of the performance were lacking.

Subsequent issues of the newspaper carried letters from other readers. Some were just as intrigued as Thom, but others had their own anecdotes to tell. Finally, someone sent in a letter saying that he too had watched this illusion on Paneron he was also baffled by it, but unlike the first correspondent he included a description of the performance.

With this extra detail Thom was able to make an intelligent guess about what the illusion might have been. All stage magic evolves gradually, tricks adapting as society changes or as new technology become available, but every illusion is based on a handful of principles that have not changed in centuries. What appear to be fresh concepts or innovations are in fact the result of showmans.h.i.+p, or novel ways of presenting old ideas.

Thom immediately set about designing the apparatus he would need for the performance, and sent off to a mail order supplier in Glaund City, on the mainland, for the one crucial piece of equipment he could not make for himself. This was a specially manufactured industrial hawser, mainly used in undersea exploration, but which would be ideal for his purposes.

Two or three weeks later he began his preparations. He rented a function room above a restaurant to use as a rehearsal room and workshop, and every day, working with the blinds drawn and the inner door locked, Thom went through the creation and rehearsal of his new stage act.

9.

It was around the same time as this that Thom began to feel that he was being watched or followed. For all its bland character, Prachous could be a place of suspicions, of doubts, of interference. Most people pretended to be absorbed in their own lives, but in reality all Prachoits were nervously curious about what their neighbours might or might not be doing. It always paid to be careful if you had something, no matter how harmless, you wanted to keep to yourself. In Thom's case, because he was a magician, a feeling of secrecy about what might be involved in his preparations was habitual.

Every morning when he walked across the town centre to his rehearsal room, Thom normally stopped at a particular pavement cafe in the central square of Beathurn. He would buy a pastry or a small piece of cake, drink two cups of coffee, and while he sat alone at a table he would read the day's newspaper. Around him, many other people were doing much the same. It was pleasant to sit there under the shade of the big trees in the square, listening to the sound of other people's chatter and the traffic going past, and harmlessly watching the pa.s.sers-by as they headed for work, or home, or to the university on the opposite side of the square.

He rarely took much interest in the other customers, but one morning he realized that a certain young woman was once again sitting at a table not far from his own. He had noticed her before although she was young, looked interesting and always dressed well, there was some kind of deep stress apparent in her expression and bearing. She seemed never able to relax, but always sat forward, slightly hunched, staring out across the street. She was often frowning. In a town of contented people, she looked like an outsider. She always arrived at the cafe after Thom had ordered from the waiter, and she was still there when he left. Whenever the right table was available she sat at the same distance from him: not too close, not too far away. She always sat at an angle towards him neither facing him nor with her back turned.

She never looked directly at him, but on the morning when Thom took a special interest in her he glanced up suddenly from his newspaper and his eye happened to fall on her. She was staring at him then, but the instant she noticed him looking she turned her gaze away. Until then, Thom had given her no more thought than anyone else he saw in the cafe, but after that he was more aware of her.

It became, for Thom, a sort of mild game without rules. He started choosing a different table every day, but each time he did the young woman would contrive to sit at the same general distance away from him as always. One morning he deliberately chose the only free table in an area that was crowded the young woman had to sit on the far side of the cafe area. Another time he chose a table inside the cafe she took a table outside, but one close to the window with a view towards him. She never seemed to look directly at him, though.

A few days later he realized that she often followed him when he walked the rest of the way to his rehearsal room. She was adept at it: she shadowed him at a great distance, and it took some time for him to be certain that following him was what she was doing.

Not knowing who she was, and feeling sure that her behaviour was not some odd way of showing she was attracted to him, and not himself being interested, at that time, in forming any new relations.h.i.+p, Thom began to wonder what might lie behind it all. Just about the only motive he could ascribe to her was that she trying to find out what his plans were, what he was preparing in his rehearsal room.

His work a year or two earlier as a pavement performer had given him a valuable lesson in the ways this town had of dealing with unconventional activity. The first few times he stood on a street corner and busked his guitar, policier officers had courteously but firmly moved him on. He had soon acceded to the inevitable and applied for, and was quickly granted, a street performer's licence. After that, he was left alone.

One afternoon, when the woman's behaviour had for some reason bothered him more than before, Thom went to the local policier office, applied for and was quickly granted another licence. This was for Live Performance and Rehearsal. In the part of the form where he had to enter a Performance Description he wrote the word Magician. Then, thinking that he should cover all possibilities, he added Illusionist, Conjuror, Prestidigitator, Thaumaturge, Wizard, and many more synonyms. He looked forward to being left alone by whoever was instructing this woman to watch him.

But a week later she was still shadowing him. By then Thom had another problem he had to solve.

10.

He could not perform the new illusion without an a.s.sistant. Indeed, the a.s.sistant was the essence of the illusion. What he required was a boy or a girl, or a very young man or woman, who was not only willing to work under the unusual directions of a stage magician but who above all was strong, lithe and athletic. Most of the magical effect of the trick would be gained by the acrobatic performance of the a.s.sistant.

He advertised. He tried asking among the people he knew in Beathurn. He approached model agencies and actors' agents.

Applicants were few, and none of them turned out to be suitable. He waited, advertised again, asked around again. He had taken his own rehearsals of the illusion as far as possible nothing more could be done until he had an a.s.sistant to work with. Once again he began to wonder about the wisdom of trying to pursue a magical career in this place.

One morning, when he happened to be sleeping late, he was awakened by someone coming to his door. Dishevelled and barely dressed, Thom was greeted by a man who introduced himself as Gerres Huun. The Huuns were one of the better-known families in Beathurn, managers of several seigniorial t.i.the agencies in the town.

Huun had arrived with his daughter, an eighteen year-old scholars.h.i.+p girl who was about to attend the Beathurn Mult.i.technic University, where she was to take a degree course in Body Tension Applications. Her name was Rullebet. She stood quietly beside her father while the two men discussed what she would be required to do if she was given the job. The father said, and Rullebet quickly confirmed, that she lived for athletics and other kinds of physical activity. She had seen Thom's job when he first advertised it, but it was only now that she had managed to persuade her protective father to allow her to apply for it.

Thom was of course eager to explain that the work she would be asked to do, although unusual, was perfectly safe, that the hours expected of her were not long, that he would fulfil any special conditions her parents requested, and of course that she would be remunerated regularly and promptly.

Pleased in every way by Rullebet's appearance and personality, he offered to show them the rehearsal room immediately. After Thom had hastily dressed, the three of them walked through the sunlit streets towards the restaurant building. On the way they pa.s.sed through the square by the university, where he would normally stop for his morning coffee. It was a little later than his normal time. Thom wondered if he would see the woman who was shadowing him, but he saw no sign of her as they pa.s.sed.

The high-ceilinged rehearsal room was cool, the windows shrouded with wooden blinds.

'Would you please climb this metal pole,' Thom said, when they were inside with the door locked. The pole was firmly mounted, connected to the floor and one of the ceiling joists. Before Rullebet was allowed to start her father checked it thoroughly to make sure it had been properly secured.

She then s.h.i.+nned up the pole in a matter of seconds. Her body movements were smooth and elegant and when she reached the top she contrived to swirl around it, arm raised in a graceful salute.

'Is that all she will have to do?' said Gerres Huun.

'I require her for rehearsal,' Thom replied. 'That will take several intensive days, with warm-up practice before every performance.'

'Full reward for rehearsals?' said Huun.

'Naturally,' said Thom. 'I will make credit available either to Rullebet herself or to you or, if she prefers, I could pa.s.s the credit to the Body Tension department at the Mult.i.technic. I'll also credit her with a bonus for every performance in front of the public. The first one of those is yet to be arranged, but I am eager to mount my illusions. I'm certain that now Rullebet will be working with me I can obtain a firm booking in the theatre, here in Beathurn. After that who knows?'

'I shall be expecting Rullebet to concentrate on her studies.'

'I understand. And I want you to appreciate, sir, that I shall take the greatest of care with her, so that everything she wants of life will be possible. I hope this will even contribute to her studies at the Multi. And of course she will be paid well.'

While they were speaking, Rullebet slid down the pole with a gracious circling movement, and landed lightly on the floor. She acknowledged an unseen audience with a wave of her hand, a radiant smile and an easy curtsey.

11.