Clive Barker - Weave World

She tried to satisfy his restlessness by keeping them on the move, but it only exacerbated the disease. Privately she began to despair, as she pictured history repeating itself two generations on, with her cast in Mimi's role.

And then, not a moment too soon, the weather began to improve, and her spirits started to rise. She even dared entertain the hope that the chase had actually stopped; their pursuers given up and gone home. In a month or so, perhaps, they could with some confidence go in search of a haven to begin the unweaving again.

But then came the glad tidings.

2

They were in a small town outside Coventry, rejoicing in the name of Fatherless Barn; as good a reason as any to be there. The day being bright, and the sun almost warm, they'd decided to risk leaving the carpet in storage at the boarding house they'd found, and take the air together.

Jerichau had just emerged from a confectioner's, his pockets full of white chocolate, his current passion, when somebody brushed past Suzanna, saying: ‘Left and left', then hurried on without looking back.

Jerichau had heard the words too, and he instantly followed both stranger and instructions. She called after him, but he wasn't about to be waylaid. He turned left at the first intersection. Suzanna went in pursuit, cursing his indiscretion, which had already drawn some attention. Left and left again brought her into the narrowest of streets, where the sun surely seldom came. There Jerichau was embracing the stranger like a long lost brother.

It was Nimrod.

3

‘You were so difficult to find,' he said, when they returned to the seclusion of the boarding house, taking a dog's leg so that Jerichau could steal a bottle of celebratory champagne. ‘I almost caught up with you in Hull, then lost you. But somebody remembered you at your hotel. Said you'd got drunk, Jerichau, is that right? And been helped to bed.'. ‘Could be,' said Jerichau. ‘Anyhow, here I am, and with great news.' ‘What?' said Suzanna. ‘We're going back home. Very soon.' ‘How do you know?' ‘Capra says so.'

‘Capra?' said Jerichau. It was enough to make him neglect his glass. ‘How can that be?'

The Prophet says so. It's all planned. Capra speaks to him -' ‘Wait. Wait!' said Suzanna. ‘What Prophet?' ‘He says we have to spread the word,' said Nimrod, his enthusiasm boundless. ‘Find the ones who left the Weave, and tell them liberation's at hand. I've been all over, doing just that. It was by chance I got wind of you. What luck, eh? Nobody knew where you were -'

‘And that was the way it was meant to stay,' said Suzanna. ‘I was to make contact in my time, when ,'judged the trail had grown cold.'

‘It is cold,' said Nimrod. ‘Stone cold. Surely you must have noticed that?' Suzanna kept her silence. ‘Our enemies have given up the chase,' he went on. ‘The Prophet knows that. He tells us what Capra says, and Capra says our Suppression is at an end.'

‘Who is this Prophet?' said Suzanna. Nimrod's excited flow ceased. He frowned as he stared at her.

The Prophet is the Prophet,' he said. No further explanation was necessary, it seemed.

‘You don't even know his name?' she said.

‘He lived near the Gyre,' said Nimrod. That much I do know. A hermit, he was, until the weaving. That night, last summer, Capra called him. He left the Weave, to begin his teachings. The tyranny of the Cuckoos is nearly at an end -'

‘I'll believe that when I see it,' said Suzanna.

‘You will,' said Nimrod, with the unshakeable fervour of a true convert. This time, the earth will rise with us. That's

what people are saying. The Cuckoos have made too much mischief. Their Age is over.'

‘Sounds like wish-fulfilment to me.'

‘You may doubt -' said Nimrod.

‘I do.'

‘- but I've seen the Prophet. I've heard his words. And they come from Capra.' His eyes glittered with evangelical glee. ‘I was in the gutter when the Prophet found me. Broken in pieces. Prey to every Cuckoo sickness. Then I heard the Prophet's voice, and went to him. Now look at me.'

Suzanna had argued with zealots before - her brother had been bom again at twenty-three, and given his life to Christ - she knew from experience there was no gainsaying the bigotry of faith. Indeed there was part of her wanted to join the happy throng of believers Nimrod described; throw off the burden of the carpet and let the Fugue begin its life afresh. She was weary of being afraid to meet anybody's eye, of forever passing through. Any pleasure she might have taken in being an outsider, possessed of a wonderful secret, had long since soured. Now she wanted to have her fingers in clay again, or sit flirting with friends. But tempting as it was, she couldn't accept this cant and be silent. It stank.

‘How do you know he doesn't mean us all harm?' she said.

‘Harm? What harm is there in being free? You have to give the Weave back, Suzanna. I'll take you to him -' He snatched hold of her hand as he spoke, as if he was prepared to do it now. She pulled her fingers from his grip.

‘What's the problem?' he said.

‘I'm not just going to give the carpet up because you heard the Word,' she said fiercely.

‘You must,' he said, as much disbelief as anger in his tone.

‘When does this Prophet speak again?' said Jerichau.

‘The day after tomorrow,' Nimrod replied, his eyes still on Suzanna. The chase is over,' he said to her. ‘You must give the carpet back.'

‘And if I don't, he'll come and get it?' she said. ‘Is that the implication?'

‘You Cuckoos -' Nimrod sighed. ‘Always making things so damn difficult. He's come to give us Capra's wisdom. Why can't you see that?' He halted a moment. When he spoke again he'd modulated his strident tone. ‘I respect your doubts,' he said. ‘But you must understand the situation's changed.'

‘I think we should see this Prophet for ourselves,' said Jerichau. He cast a glance at Suzanna. ‘Yes?'

She nodded.

‘Yes!' Nimrod grinned. ‘Yes, he'll make everything clear to you.'

She longed for that promise to be made true. ‘The day after tomorrow,' said Nimrod. ‘There'll be an end to chases.'

II

SEEING THE LIGHT

1

That night, with Nimrod gone, and Jerichau sleeping off his champagne, she did something she'd never done before. She evoked the menstruum, simply for company. It had shown her many sights in recent weeks, and it had saved her from Hobart and his malice, but she was still suspicious of its power. She still couldn't quite work out whether she controlled it, or vice versa. Tonight, however, she decided that that was a Cuckoo's way of thinking, always making divisions: the viewer from the viewed; the peach from the taste it left on the tongue.

Such compartments were useful only as tools. At some point they had to be left behind. For better or worse, she was the menstruum, and the menstruum was her. She and it, indivisible.

Bathing in its silver light, her thoughts turned again to Mimi, who'd lived a life of waiting, her years growing dusty while she hoped for a miracle that was too late in coming. Thinking of that, she began to cry, quietly.

Not quietly enough, for she woke Jerichau. She heard his footsteps outside, then his tapping on the bathroom door.

‘Lady?' he said. It was the name he only used when there was an apology in the air. ‘I'm all right,' she said.

She had neglected to lock the door, and he pushed it open. He was dressed only in the long vest he always slept in. Seeing her misery, his face dropped.

‘Why so sad?' he asked.

‘It's all wrong,' were the only words she could find to express her confusion.

Jerichau's eyes had found the dregs of the menstruum, which moved across the floor between them, their brightness flickering out as they left her immediate vicinity. He kept a respectful distance.