Catherine Fisher - The Slanted Worlds

Piers shivered. “Good. Because something tells me we’re going to need it.”

Outside, the crack and slither of earth seemed to shudder through the damp walls.

Maskelyne placed the gun carefully on the table. “Listen to me, Piers. From what Sarah writes here, these replicants have appeared to Jake. Been targeting Jake, I would say. Janus has been implanting prophecies in his ear—only too easy to do, if you come from the far future.”

Piers crowded closer. “What prophesies?”

“The Black Fox will release you was the first. That came true. Then The Man with the Eyes of a Crow. ” He frowned. “Given the dates on the mirror, I have an idea what that may be. But what is this Box of Red Brocade? It contains something vital, that’s clear. Something Janus wants and can’t get, so he needs Sarah to get it for him. Therefore something she desires.” He looked up.

Piers stared back, eyes wide. “The Zeus coin! Yes, but Janus can reach anywhere in time. If he knows where it is, why not get it himself and . . .”

Maskelyne began pacing, a lean, dark figure in the gloomy lab, lifting a hand. “Stop talking, and just think about it. The coin—if reassembled—will destroy the mirror. Janus doesn’t want that, so he needs to keep the two pieces safe and apart. Who knows, maybe he’s got the left side himself. The box must hold the right half of the coin, the piece Sarah gave to Summer. That must mean it’s in the only place, the only dimension Janus cannot access. And it needs to stay there. ”

They looked at each other across the malachite labyrinth.

“The Summerland,” Piers said gloomy.

“The Summerland.” Maskelyne stood in front of the mirror, gazing at its blackness. “That’s where it is. That’s where it’s safe. If Sarah brings it out . . . that’s exactly what Janus wants.”

For a moment they were silent. Then Piers said, “What about you. You don’t want that either.”

“No. I don’t.” Maskelyne put the gun on the table and they stared at each other over it.

“Venn needs to know,” he said.

Sarah turned and saw Wharton slide through the door and shut it with a gasp. He smiled at her.

“Sarah! Thank heavens!”

She stared. “George? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Good question! Venn came after you and I came because . . . well, I was worried about you.” He turned and stared at the smooth white wall behind him. “What happened to the door? What is this place? What the hell is going on?”

“I wouldn’t trust him,” the bird breathed softly in her pocket. “Ask him a question only he knows the answer to.”

Sarah sat on a cushioned sofa. “We seem to be trapped in Summer’s house of mysteries. When you met me at the British Museum, George, what sandwiches did you buy me?”

He stared at her as if she had gone out of her head. “Good Lord, Sarah, how am I expected to remember that? And what on earth does it . . .”

“Just try.”

Annoyed, he blew out his cheeks. “Egg? Definitely egg. Egg and cucumber.”

She smiled.

“Was that some sort of password?” He came forward, light on his feet. “Sarah, we have to get out of here, we have to find Venn and Gideon. Why on earth did you come here anyway? What are you looking for?”

“Don’t say.” The bird’s words were less than a breath on the air, but Wharton tipped his head instantly. “What was that? Did you hear something?”

“No. So you want to know why I’m here? Why not make Gideon tell you?”

“Gideon?” he gazed around, baffled. “I left him with Venn. What . . . ?”

“No wonder you’re puzzled.” Sarah stood, wandering along the row of sumptuous sculptures, her feet sinking into the deep carpet. “You don’t know what would make me come so deep into the Shee country, do you? What could be so important. That’s what worries you. That’s what’s tormenting you. Because you’re not Wharton at all, are you. You’re Summer.”

George Wharton giggled.

Then he began unraveling before her, his arms becoming slim and white, his boots shriveling to bare feet, his coat blanching to a turquoise-and-purple feathery dress with panels of lace. For a moment he was a patchwork being, part man, part woman, inhuman, un-Shee. Then he was Summer, and she was throwing herself full length on the sofa and giggling with glee.

“Oh your face, Sarah! And I thought I was doing so well! Such fun! Tell me, what did I get wrong?”

Sarah felt only a weary irritation. “If you must know, it was the cucumber.”

“Really! Your mortal food is all very confusing, I really don’t know why you bother about it at all.” Summer stretched bare toes and pointed them. “So, do you like my house, Sarah?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s a cobwebby, dark, damp hovel. Sometimes a cave under the sea or a temple on a hot green island. It can be anything I want it to be.”

Sarah kept her hand on the box in her pocket. “It must be boring. Always changing, always staying the same.”

For a moment she was scared; a sliver of venom crossed Summer’s face. She said, “Oh I’m never bored, Sarah. Now. You have something of mine. I want it back.” She held out her hand.

Sarah was calm. She had rarely felt so alert, her mind sparking with plots and lies. It was like the day they had broken through all the wire fences and electrified corridors into Janus’s lab and entered the mirror, not caring if they were caught; the sheer audaciousness of it exhilarated her. She took the box and held it out to Summer. “I came for this. The prophecies told Jake about it, and I came to find it, because I thought it would help me defeat Janus. But I can’t reach what’s inside it.”

Summer raised a perfect eyebrow. She snatched the box and opened it and the bird unfurled itself, preened a green feather, and uttered a burst of tuneful song. Summer laughed. “You! I had forgotten all about you!” She extended a white finger and the bird hopped from its perch and gripped on, a tiny thing of string and feathers.

Summer glanced in at the bottomless abyss of stars and treasure. “Is everything in there? All my lovely things? Nothing missing?”

The bird slid a sidelong look at Sarah. She held her breath.

It would betray her. Surely. The Shee could never be trusted.

It said, “Gold and gems. Diamonds and dewdrops. Rubies and robins. Marcasites and the moon. Everything is here that should be here.”

Summer looked into the depths of the box. She gazed a long moment, as if she could see all that it contained, and in that instant Sarah’s heart almost failed her, because the powers of the faery queen must be immeasurable. But the bird winked at her and she tried to hold hope like a bright flame in her mind.

“Well.” With a flick of her fingers, Summer snatched the bird, tossed it in, and snapped down the lid. “My box won’t help you against Janus. And trespassers in my house need to be punished.” She lifted her head and pointed a fine fingernail. “As you see.”

And Sarah saw Wharton.

He was frozen, mid-step, in a cell of glass. It slid and protruded into the room like a great ice cube. His face was hard, caught in panic.

“What have you done to him!” She ran to touch him, but her hands slid only on a flat cold surface.

“I’ve stopped him.” Summer came and stood by her, gazing critically. “How very ugly some of these mortals are, Sarah. Such ungainly animals. Wrinkled and heavy and weighed down by the world. Not Venn, of course. Venn is a sleek white leopard. Fierce and adorable.”