K Parker: Pattern

I was busy, the other voice whispered. I didn't see.

No? Pity. Never mind, I held up my side of the bargain. Now you're obligated. And don't pretend you didn't know-you knew perfectly well, the moment you started it all.

I didn't start it, the first voice said, almost pleading.

The hell you didn't. Let's see, where exactly did it all start? Was it when you cut that man's throat, out by the washing pool? Or when you diverted the fire-stream, or when you hid the beef barrel, or when you took in your killer waif off the mountainside? Or was it earlier than that, even-you know, I lose track sometimes, you're so busy when you're on your own, always getting up to mischief. That's why you need me, to keep you on the straight and narrow, not dissipating your energy on silly little jobs. Anyway, it was definitely you, each and every step of the way. It could only have been you, because of course I wasn't there. I've got the perfect alibi, you see. I wasn't there, because you turned me away, told me to get lost. You do understand that, don't you? Because it's absolutely crucial. You can't blame me for anything, because it was all you.

All right! the first voice shouted. It was me, it was me. But it's all your fault, because you made me like this. Even without you, I still do these horrible things. That's why I can never go back to you. Because if I do, it'll be worse No. There was a smile in the second voice, an audible grin of triumph. The only difference between what you do on your own and what you did when we were together is that your solo efforts are meaningless, they don't achieve anything, they're just random chaos and destruction. All right, when we're together we do the same sort of stuff, but just think for a moment about what we've achieved. That's the difference. You know, the voice went on, you seem to believe that I'm the bad side and you're the good side; but that's horseshit, it's the other way around. You and I together, we were getting somewhere. On your own, you're just a fox running through a cornfield with a burning switch tied to its tail. Besides, by any standards, what you do on your own is worse. It doesn't mean anything. It's just blind malevolence, like the volcano.

There was a long silence. Then the first voice said, No. All right, so maybe some of what you're saying is true. But that doesn't change anything, it really doesn't matter. I don't care if I'm as evil as you are, or worse, even. I don't care if I'm the devil incarnate and you're an angel. I hate you, and I'm never going back. Not ever Poldarn sat up. His face and chest were dripping wet with sweat. Beside him, Elja grunted irritably and clawed at the blanket. 'Go to sleep,' she mumbled. 'It's the middle of the night.'

'I heard something,' he replied. 'Stay there, I'm going to look.'

He slid out of bed and crept across the floor in his bare feet, out through the partition door into the hall and onto the porch. At once he looked up towards the mountain, expecting to see a river of orange fire; but there was nothing, just a smear of dawn. He sat down on the chair Raffen had made and started to shake, though he hadn't a clue why.

After a while, the shakes wore off; he relaxed, told himself it was just a bad dream, nothing unusual about that. He watched the red seep into the clouds on the skyline and tried to remember the rhyme: red sky in the morning-it was either good or bad, but he couldn't recall which.

'Shepherd's warning,' said a voice to his left. He recognised it.

'That's it,' he said, 'it means rain later or something like that. What are you doing here? I thought I heard somewhere that you died.'

'I did. And it was a nasty way to go, too. Blood poisoning, after I gave birth to our daughter. To be honest with you, I can't really say it was worth it. I mean, she's a nice enough kid, quite pretty in a washed-out, everyday sort of a way, but not a patch on me.'

'True,' Poldarn replied. 'But that's a pretty high standard you're setting her. There's not many that could measure up to it. And she's kind and understanding and loyal, and she's got a great sense of humour.'

And I bet she's mustard at embroidery and brewing, too, but who gives a shit about all that sort of thing?' Whoever she was, she laughed. 'Listen to me, I'm jealous of my own daughter now. No, I'm not, because I know for a fact that she can't compare to me. If it came down to a straight choice, right now, you'd dump her and come away with me without even having to think about it.'

'Yes,' Poldarn said, 'I would. But you're dead, so the question doesn't arise. It never did. You were married, to that moron Colsceg, and you wouldn't leave him.'

She laughed again. 'Oh, I'd have left him like a stone from a sling, if the right man had come along. But he didn't. Instead, I got you. And it killed me. I suppose you could say it served me right, but I'm not convinced. I deserved better, a whole lot better than either of you. Instead-' She sighed. 'Instead, by the time I was her age, I'd been dead six years. Not much of a fair go, was it? Eighteen years, that's all I had, and in that time I was wonderful. Oh, he didn't appreciate me, my useless turd of a husband. I think you did, a bit, but you were just a kid, you'd only just learned how to tie your bootlaces. No, you always were inclined to think with your dick, especially back in those days.'

'That's not fair,' Poldarn said equably. 'If things had been different, if we could've got married and settled down, things would have been so much better for everyone-'

'Oh, please.' She was laughing at him. 'What on earth makes you think I'd ever have married you,'

'Well, you married Colsceg. This suggests that you weren't inclined to be picky.'

'Shows what you know. I married him to get out of my father's house, simple as that. He was exactly what I needed at that time: he had his own house, he wasn't living under the shadow of his father or his grandfather or anybody else, so I'd be in charge at home, no raddled old cow telling me what to do or how things should be run. He had two sons already, so he didn't have any call to use me as a brood mare. And since we're being honest, which I don't remember ever happening back when I was alive, he might have been stodgy and middle-aged but he was twice the man you were. There was never anything much to you. In fact, God only knows what all your other women ever saw in you.'

'Thank you so much,' Poldarn said. 'It's so kind of you to tell me that.'

'Well, for pity's sake,' the voice said contemptuously. 'Just look at them, will you? There's been so many of them, and every single one of them about as interesting as last night's porridge. I mean, take that mimsy little blonde bitch, the prince's daughter-'

'I loved her,' Poldarn objected.

'Did you hell. You only married her so you'd have her father by the balls.'

'Oh sure, to begin with,' Poldarn admitted readily. 'That was the original idea; but then I fell in love with her. She was so giving, so-'

'Weak and pathetic,' the voice cut in. 'A doormat, a little plaster doll. How you managed to stay awake when you were seeing to that beats me, really it does. And what about the last one-sorry, the one before last, it gets so confusing. You know, the one who never washed, with the hairy armpits. You're not seriously asking me to believe you were ever even fond of her.'

'Yes, as a matter of fact,' Poldarn replied. 'Actually, she reminds me a lot of you.'

For a moment, the other voice was too angry to speak. 'That's sick,' it said. 'I know you only said that to annoy me, but you shouldn't say things like that, even in spite. And so, all right, maybe you were fond of her. You were absolutely besotted with me.'

'Very true,' Poldarn said, 'I was. But as you yourself said just now, I was only a kid at the time. Shallow, immature, only interested in one thing. You can't have it both ways, you know'