Clive Barker - Weave World

Romo smiled. ‘Because she married?' he said. ‘I would have expected no less. Or because she'd forgotten? No. Never.' He spoke with such authority, yet so gently, everyone in the room attended to him. ‘She didn't forget us. She simply knew what her granddaughter knows. That it isn't safe.'

Yolande went to interrupt, but Romo raised his hand.

‘A moment, please.' he said. Then I'm going. I've got business elsewhere.'

Yolande closed her mouth.

‘I knew Mimi better than any of you. As far as I'm concerned we parted only yesterday. I know she guarded the Weave as long as she had breath and wit to do so. Don't waste her agonies by throwing us into the hands of our enemies just because you get a whiff of freedom in your nostrils.'

‘Easy for you to say.' Yolande replied.

‘I want to live again as much as you do.' Romo told her. ‘I stayed here because of my children, thinking - the way we all thought - that we'd be awake in a year or two. Now look. We open our eyes, and the world has changed. My Mimi died an old woman, and it's the child of her child who stands in her place to tell us that we are as close to extinction as ever. I believe she speaks with Mimi's blessing. We should listen to her.'

‘What do you advise?' said Tung.

‘Advise?' Yolande said. ‘He's a lion-tamer, why should we listen to his advice?'

‘I suggest we re-weave.' said Romo, ignoring her outburst. ‘Re-weave before the Cuckoos come amongst us. Then we find somewhere safe, somewhere we can unweave again in our own time, where the Cuckoos won't be waiting at the border. Yolande's right.' he said, looking at her. ‘We can't hide forever. But facing tomorrow morning in this chaotic state isn't courage, it's suicide.'

The speech was neatly argued, and it clearly impressed a good number of the assembly.

‘And if we do?' said one of Yolande's clan. ‘Who guards the carpet?'

‘She does.' said Romo, looking at Suzanna. ‘She knows the Kingdom better than anyone. And it's rumoured she's got access to the menstruum.'

‘Is that true?' said Tung.

Suzanna nodded. The man took a half step away from her. A swell of comments and questions now rose in the room, many of them directed at Romo. He was having none of them, however.

‘I've said all I have to say on the subject.' he announced. ‘I can't leave my children waiting any longer.'

With that, he turned and started back the way he'd come. Suzanna pursued him, as the controversy escalated afresh.

‘Romo!' she called after him.

He stopped, and turned back.

‘Help me.' she said. ‘Stay with me.'

There's no time.' he said. ‘I've got an appointment to keep, on your grandmother's behalf.'

‘But there's so much I don't understand.'

‘Didn't Mimi leave you instructions?' he said.

‘I was too late. By the time I reached her, she couldn't...' She stopped. Her throat was tight; she felt the sorrow of losing Mimi rising up in her.'.... couldn't speak. All she left me was a book.'

Then consult that.' Romo said. ‘She knew best.'

‘It was taken from me.' Suzanna said.

Then you have to get it back. And what answers you don't find there, put in for yourself.'

This last remark lost Suzanna entirely, but before she could question it Romo spoke again.

‘Look between,' he said. That's the best advice I can offer.'

‘Between what?'

Romo frowned. ‘Simply between,' he said, as though the sense of this was self-evident. ‘I know you're the equal of it. You're Mimi's child.'

He leaned towards her, and kissed her.

‘You have her look.' he said, his hand trembling against her cheek. She suddenly sensed that his touch was more than friendly; and that she felt something undeniable towards him: something inappropriate between her and her grandmother's husband. They both stepped back from the touch, startled by their feelings.

He began to walk towards the door, his goodnight delivered with his back to her. She went after him a pace or two, but didn't try to delay him any longer. He had business, he'd said. As he pushed open the door there was a roar from the darkness and her heart jumped as beasts appeared around him. He was not under attack, however. He'd spoken of children, and here they were. Lions, half a dozen or more, welcoming him with growls, their golden eyes turned up towards him as they jockeyed for the place closest to his side. The door slammed, eclipsing them.

They want us to take our leave.'

Jerichau was standing in the passageway behind her. She stared at the closed door for a moment longer, as the sound of the lions faded, then turned to him.

‘Are we being thrown out?' she asked.

‘No. They just want to debate the problem awhile.' he said. ‘Without us.'

She nodded.

‘I suggest we walk a little way.'

By the time they opened the door, Romo and the animals had gone; about Mimi's business.

2

So they walked.

He had his silence; she, hers. So many feelings to try and comprehend. Her thoughts went back to Mimi, and the sacrifice she'd made, knowing Romo, her beautiful lion-tamer, was sleeping in a place she could not trespass. Had she touched the knots where he was concealed, she wondered?; had she knelt and whispered her love for him to the Weave? The very thought of it was beyond bearing. No wonder she'd been so severe, so stoical. She'd stood guard at the paradise gates, alone; unable to breathe a word of what she knew; fearful of dementia, fearful of death.

‘Don't be afraid,' Jerichau said at last.

‘I'm not afraid,' she lied, then, remembering that the colours from her would be contradicting her every word, said: ‘Well ... maybe a little. I can't be a Custodian, Jerichau. I'm not the equal of it.'

They'd emerged from the myrtle copse and walked out into a field. Several huge marble beasts stood in the knee-high grass, their species either mythical or extinct, but either way chiselled in loving detail; tusk and fur and tiny eye. She leaned against the flank of one and stared at the ground. They could hear neither the debate behind them nor the bells in the branches; only night-insects going about their business in the shadow of the beasts.

His gaze was upon her - she felt it - but she couldn't raise her head to meet it.

‘I think maybe -' he began, then stopped.

The insects chattered on, mocking his struggle for words.

Again, he tried.

‘I just wanted to say: I know you're the equal of anything.'

She was going to smile at this courtesy, but:

‘No. That's not what I wanted to say.' He took a fresh breath, and with it said: ‘I want to go with you.'

‘With me?'

‘When you go back to the Kingdom. Whether it's with the carpet or without it, I want to be with you.'

Now she looked up, and his dark face was that of an accused man awaiting verdict; hanging on every flicker of her lash.

She smiled, searching for a response. Finally she said:

‘Of course. Of course. I'd like that.'

‘Yes?' he gasped. ‘You would?'

The anxiety fled from his face, replaced by a luminous grin.

‘Thank you,' he said. ‘I want so much that we should be friends.'

Then friends we'll be,' she replied.

The stone was chilly against her back; he, in front of her, exuded warmth. And there was she, where Romo had advised her to be: between.

VII

SHADWELL ON HIGH

Let me down.' said the Salesman to his broken-backed mount. They'd climbed a steep-sided hill, the highest Shadwell could find. The view from the top was impressive. Norris, however, wasn't much interested in the view. He sat down, labouring for breath, and clutched his one-handed drummer to his chest, leaving Shadwell to stand on the promontory and admire the moon-lit vista spread beneath him.