CLIVE BARKER
Harper Voyager An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in 2002
Copyright © 2002 by Clive Barker
Clive Barker asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9780006513704
Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780007301690
Version: 2017-11-02
PRAISE FOR CLIVE BARKER AND ABARAT
“Above all, this is a deeply lovely catalogue of the strange. Islands carved into colossal heads, giant moths made of coloured ether, words that turn into aeroplanes, tentacled maggot-monsters: they dance past like a carnival, a true surrender to the weird.”
Guardian
“Always creating and always pushing into the farthest reaches of the human mind, [Barker] is an artist in every sense of the word. He is the great imaginer of our time.”
QUENTIN TARANTINO
“Clive Barker is a magician of the first order”
New York Daily News
“Keeps you effortlessly turning the pages”
New York Times Magazine
“A blend of Alice in Wonderland and The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe ”
Entertainment Weekly
“Clever, but oh so creepy”
People
To Emilian David Armstrong
I dreamed a limitless book,
A book unbound,
Its leaves scattered in fantastic abundance.
On every line there was a new horizon drawn,
New heavens supposed;
New states, new souls.
One of those souls,
Dozing through some imagined afternoon,
Dreamed these words.
And needing a hand to set them down,
Made mine.
C. B.
Title Page
Copyright
Praise
Epigraph
PROLOGUE: THE MISSION
PART ONE: MORNINGTIDE
1. Room Nineteen;
2. What Henry Murkitt Left Behind;
3. Doodle;
4. “Street Ends”
5. A Shore Without a Sea
6. The Lady Ascends
7. Light and Water
8. A Moment with Melissa
9. Events on the Jetty
PART TWO: TWILIGHT AND BEYOND
10. The Waters 97
11. The Card Players
12. A Talk on the Tide
13. In The Great Head
14. Carrion
PART THREE: WHERE IS WHEN?
15. Bug 153
16. The Universal Eye
17. Almenak
18. The Tale of Hark’s Harbor
19. On Vesper’s Rock
20. The World Through Borrowed Eyes
21. The Hunt
PART FOUR: WICKED STRANGE
22. In Gallows Forest
23. The Man Who Made the Kid
24. Digger and Dragons
25. Mischief Undone
26. The House of Lies
27. Words with the Criss-Cross Man
28. A Slave’s Soul
29. Cat’s Eyes
30. “Come Thou Glyph to Me”
31. The Twenty-Fifth Hour
32. Monsoon
33. All Things in Time
34. Different Destinies
Keep Reading
Appendix : Some Excerpts From Klepp’s Almenak
Excerpt
Prologue
PART ONE: Freaks, Fools And Fujitives
Chapter One: Portriat Of Girl And Geshrat
About the Author
Also By Clive Barker
About the Publisher
THE MISSION
Three is the number of those who do holy work; Two is the number of those who do lover’s work; One is the number of those who do perfect evil Or perfect good.
—From the notes of a monk
of the Order of St. Oco;
his name unknown
THE STORM CAME UP out of the southwest like a fiend, stalking its prey on legs of lightning.
The wind it brought with it was as foul as the devil’s own breath and it stirred up the peaceful waters of the sea. By the time the little red boat that the three women had chosen for their perilous voyage had emerged from the shelter of the islands, and was out in the open waters, the waves were as steep as cliffs, twenty-five, thirty feet tall.
“Somebody sent this storm,” said Joephi, who was doing her best to steer the boat, which was called The Lyre . The sail shook like a leaf in a tempest, swinging back and forth wildly, nearly impossible to hold down. “I swear, Diamanda, this is no natural storm!”
Diamanda, the oldest of the three women, sat in the center of the tiny vessel with her dark blue robes gathered around her and their precious cargo pressed to her bosom.
“Let’s not get hysterical,” she told Joephi and Mespa. She wiped a long piece of white hair out of her eyes. “Nobody saw us leave the Palace of Bowers. We escaped unseen, I’m certain of it.”
“So why this storm?” said Mespa, who was a black woman, renowned for her resilience, but who now looked close to being washed away by the rain beating down on the women’s heads.
“Why are you so surprised that the heavens complain?” Diamanda said. “Didn’t we know the world would be turned upside down by what just happened?”
Joephi fought with the sail, cursing it.
“Indeed, isn’t this the way it should be?” Diamanda went on. “Isn’t it right that the sky is torn to tatters and the sea put in a frenzy? Would we prefer it if the world did not care?”
“No, no of course not,” said Mespa, holding on to the edge of the pitching boat, her face as white as her close-cropped hair was black. “I just wish we weren’t out in the middle of it all.”
“Well, we are!” said the old woman. “And there’s not a thing any of us can do about it. So I suggest you finish emptying your stomach, Mespa—”
“It is empty,” the sick woman said. “I have nothing left to bring up.”
“—and you Joephi, handle the sail—”
“Oh, Goddesses …” Joephi murmured. “ Look .”
“What is it?” said Diamanda.
Joephi pointed up into the sky.
Several stars had been shaken down from the fir-mament—great white cobs of fire piercing the clouds and falling seaward. One of them was heading directly toward The Lyre .
“Down!” Joephi yelled, catching hold of the back of Diamanda’s robes and pushing the old woman off her seat.
Diamanda hated to be touched; manhandling , she called it. She started to berate Joephi roundly for what she’d done, but she was drowned out by the roaring sound of the falling star as it rushed toward the vessel. It burst the billowing sail of The Lyre , burning a hole right through the canvas, and then plunged into the sea, where it was extinguished with a great hissing sound.
Читать дальше