Oksa pollock, p.17
Oksa Pollock, page 17
“It certainly isn’t the sort of thing you do every day,” conceded Abakum. “But you did very well indeed. You acquitted yourself admirably! Well done. And, since you went off fairly quickly after the Council Meeting, let me give you a little feedback.”
Oksa put her hands over her face in embarrassment.
“You’ve won over the hearts of our Insider allies, and the Runaways are proud to stand beside you. Everyone was very impressed by your air of confidence. I promised Tugdual that I’d tell you he was blown away and that you did a great job—I’m quoting here.”
Oksa pulled a face, so Abakum asked:
“What’s bothering you?”
Oksa pretended to be distracted by the Lunatrix, who was returning with a tray. The little steward began serving them, glancing in concern at his young mistress.
“It’s my father,” Oksa said finally.
Abakum took a deep breath.
“Everyone realized you must have had very good reasons for not putting him in charge of a Mission.”
“Maybe, but it was still awful! He must be so upset with me.”
Abakum took a sip of tea and looked at her wisely.
“Knowing Pavel, that would surprise me.”
“Everyone must think I’m such an ungrateful daughter.”
“No one thinks that,” said Abakum. “We know you love your father and that he’ll never be far from you. Your decisions have our unanimous support, sweetheart. You made some sensible, well-thought-out choices which everyone respected.”
“Thank you,” murmured Oksa. “You’ve helped me so much. I’d never have managed without you.”
“Don’t forget that I was your gran’s Watcher and now I’m yours.”
“I know, Abakum.”
“I’d like to ask you a question though. Just one question, which you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
The Lunatrix couldn’t help groaning. His complexion turned translucent and his eyes began spinning like tops in their sockets.
“My Gracious…”
He looked about to faint. Oksa put a hand on his downy arm and avoided Abakum’s eyes. He frowned.
“Does the fact that you didn’t want to make your father a Servant of the High Enclave have anything to do with the new Secret entrusted to you by the Ageless Ones?” asked the Fairyman.
This was too much for the Lunatrix. The poor creature swayed, then crumpled in a heap on a floor cushion. The Getorix hurried to his side and fanned his face by waving its hands in the air.
“Hey, podge! Stay with us!” it squealed.
Farther off, sitting quietly on a chair, Oksa’s Incompetent opened one eye and gazed at the scene with its usual bemusement. Then, with a yawn, it blissfully went back to sleep.
Abakum and Oksa knelt down beside the poor little creature, who was already regaining consciousness. Oksa held his head up and trickled a few mouthfuls of piping-hot tea into his wide mouth.
“Baba always said that a nice cup of tea was the best remedy in the world.”
“The Dear-Departed-and-Much-Beloved Old Gracious disposed of colossal truths in her mouth,” stammered the Lunatrix.
Abakum carried him to a small made-to-measure bed and laid him down on it, massaging various pressure points on his wrists. Then he came back to Oksa and sat back down in preoccupied silence.
“You don’t need to answer my question, sweetheart,” he said after long pause. “What just happened told me all I needed to know.”
A few hours later Oksa was wide awake, even though it was the middle of the night. It wasn’t the steady snoring of the Lunatrix keeping her from sleep, though—she was actually lost in thought as she stared out of the huge bay window. The Aegis protecting the city resembled a milky jellyfish as the lights of Thousandeye City at night reflected off it—an entrancing sight that, in other circumstances, would have been reassuring. Tonight, though, she could find no comfort.
She turned over and heard the clothes she’d carelessly rolled into a ball tumble to the floor. Irritated, she stretched out her arm to pick them up. Her jeans, her tee-shirt, her tie—the feel of the strip of two-coloured fabric was electrifying and her spirit instantly left her body.
31
RUBBING SALT IN A WOUND
GUS WAS SITTING ON A PLANK OF WOOD ON THE FLOOR, his back against the wall and his elbows on his knees. He ran his fingertips over the soaked carpet, which reeked of filth and mud. The bedrooms had been badly damaged by the last flood, which had hit London a few days earlier. For the first time since the Spurned had come back the upstairs rooms had ended up under a foot of water, which had sapped their morale. Then the water had fallen as suddenly as it had risen, and the sun had reappeared, but this wasn’t enough to lift the spirits of the Outsiders throughout the world or of the occupants of the small house on Bigtoe Square, who couldn’t imagine ever feeling optimistic again.
Oksa’s bedroom was in a terrible shambles, but Gus often took refuge there. And it was here, transported by her Identego, that the New Gracious found him, looking serious and lost in thought. Her first reaction was to run to him, tilt his chin up so she could look him in the face and shout: “I’m here, Gus! I’m here!” He might not have heard her, but he might have sensed her presence. However, the Identego forced her to keep her distance, very much against her will—she had to look, learn and understand—so she merely watched, hovering over the wrecked room.
When Gus brushed away the strand of hair covering part of his face, she could see that the ordeals of the past few months had left their mark. Despite the baggy Aran sweater swamping his body, it was impossible not to notice that Gus had lost a lot of weight. His gaunt cheeks emphasized the angular line of his jaw, making it seem firmer. His hands looked much the worse for wear after nailing down, tearing up, sanding, replacing and repairing everything that had been destroyed by the storms and floods. The pure dark blue of his eyes was muddy and it looked as if an inky curtain had dropped down to hide his deep sadness. It hurt Oksa to see him like that. He put his head in his hands and groaned softly. The Identego relented and she was able to draw closer.
Just as she was about to touch her friend’s hand, the bedroom door opened and Kukka came in. Oksa jerked back, although no one would ever know she was there.
“You okay, Gus?” asked Kukka softly.
“Sure, apart from the fact that my head feels like some fiendish machine is drilling into it…”
Oksa was irritated to see Kukka shoot Gus a sympathetic look and sit down beside him. She tossed back her long blond hair and the sweet scent of vanilla wafted in Oksa’s direction. Even though she was thinner and looked exhausted, she was still undeniably beautiful.
“Those monster bats really did a number on me,” added Gus.
Kukka rested her hand on Gus’s forearm. And her head on his shoulder. Six feet away, Oksa was rooted to the spot. Gus wasn’t doing anything to shake her off! How had it come to this? Oksa’s Identego didn’t move.
It couldn’t move.
Because Oksa wanted to know.
“As soon as things improve, Andrew will take you to see all the best doctors,” murmured Kukka.
Gus didn’t say a word. He lifted his head and leant it against the wall. His face relaxed gradually as Kukka snuggled closer to him.
“You know as well as I do that no doctor on Earth can help me,” he said eventually. “The countdown started the moment I was bitten by that bloody Death’s Head Chiropteran. And even the Werewall transfusion can’t save me. The only thing that can is a concoction made from the sap of an outlandish plant, a stone that doesn’t exist here and the snot of a creature that gets high on human emotion. I don’t want to seem pessimistic or anything, otherwise you’ll tell me off again, but it’s not looking good. I’m not going to break any records for life expectancy, that’s for sure.”
Oksa stiffened. At any other time the Identego was a brilliant power, but right now it was agony, allowing her to watch when she couldn’t do anything to help.
“You’ll get through this,” continued Kukka. “The alternative is unthinkable. Otherwise, who would I play endless games of chess with?”
The Identego didn’t react, even though Oksa’s mind was desperately urging it to do something. Kukka’s words pierced her like poisoned arrows. Thousands of miles away—in another dimension—she was lying in bed and suffering as badly as if she were really in her bedroom in Bigtoe Square, near Gus and that… girl. Apart from Kukka’s pathetic attempt at humour, she’d found out something she never thought she would, something she’d always dreaded: that she had a rival. Her heart pounded. Why didn’t her Identego do something? Why didn’t it grab hold of that bimbo’s gorgeous hair and send her flying to the far end of the Earth with a flawless Knock-Bong? And since when did Gus play chess? That simpering bitch must have taught him.
“As it’s your birthday tomorrow,” said Gus, “perhaps you’ll be magnanimous enough to let me win?”
“That’s the kind of thing you have to earn!” replied Kukka.
Oksa saw Gus smile. She clenched her fists.
“You know, it’s twelve years ago today that I was adopted by Olof and Lea. It was the day before my fourth birthday.”
Oksa cried out in her bed as her Identego lurked in a corner of her bedroom in Bigtoe Square. Kukka had been adopted! Like Gus! That must have brought them closer. But that revelation made Oksa realize how uncharitable and thoughtless she’d been: she’d never even wondered why the daughter of two Insiders hadn’t been able to enter Edefia. The only thing she’d been interested in was Kukka’s relationship with Tugdual, and then Gus. Nothing else. She’d never tried to find out anything about Kukka’s personal life. And now, the fact that she was learning the answer to questions she’d never bothered to ask felt like rubbing salt in a wound.
“Do you remember anything from before, then?” asked Gus.
“Only a few vague memories. Olof and Lea were so wonderful that it was easy to forget what had happened.”
“What you went through was awful.”
“Yes, it was,” said Kukka softly.
She paused as her eyes misted over, then she continued:
“What about you? Do you remember anything?”
“No. I was a baby when my parents came to collect me from the Chinese orphanage. They’re the only parents I ever knew.”
Neither of them spoke for a while.
“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?”
“No,” whispered Gus.
Oksa’s blood ran cold. Had Gus lost heart? Was he that demoralized? She had to do something. A tear slid down her cheek. She surrendered control and gave free rein to her Identego.
Gus shivered violently, staring wide-eyed. Kukka pulled away and looked at him in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” she gasped.
“It’s Oksa!” gasped Gus.
Kukka sat up suddenly.
“Gus!” she exclaimed reproachfully. “Stop it! It can’t be Oksa!”
But the Identego was already surrounding Gus, filling him with an intense sensation of pleasure that felt so real it was almost physical.
“It is Oksa,” he insisted, his face transfigured.
Kukka gazed at him wearily. Then she got up and left the room, looking miserable.
“Oksa, if you can hear me, do something!” begged Gus.
Concentrating hard, Oksa tried to make a discernible movement or gesture. It was incredible that Gus sensed her presence, but she had to do better than that. She focused on the tie that Gus, like her, never seemed to take off, and tried to catch hold of the end to yank it upwards. The few ounces of fabric felt heavier than a block of concrete. With her body drenched in sweat and her heart in pieces, she wept with frustration in her bed. Then it occurred to her that maybe she should leave well alone.
Perhaps a hope destined never to be realized was worse than despair?
Yielding sadly to the will of her Identego, Oksa let it embrace her friend one last time, which gave her a melancholy pleasure. Then, after a few seconds, she finally realized her efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed when she heard Gus murmur “Thank you”.
After a while, feeling comforted and delighted, Gus decided to leave Oksa’s bedroom, unaware that he was being followed by the Identego, which took the Gracious upstairs.
Dragomira’s strictly private workroom was in shadow. Only a small oil lamp was burning inside one of the many niches in the walls, shedding a yellowish glow over the room, which had been converted into a dormitory.
Oksa watched Gus lie down with a tired sigh. Her Identego allowed her to caress him lightly one last time, promising to return soon, then she looked around to see which of the seven beds might belong to her mother. She located her without difficulty: the wheelchair was a dead giveaway. With a silent cry, Oksa felt herself rush over to what she recognized as Dragomira’s old bed. Marie Pollock was lying on her side, fast asleep. Oksa rested her head on the pillow a few inches from her mother’s face and studied her. Even asleep, she looked exhausted. The dim light made her skin appear waxy, but Oksa was sure it was probably worse in broad daylight. She reached out a hand and stroked her hair. It seemed coarse and much thinner than she remembered. Suddenly Marie shifted in her sleep and her chapped lips parted to let a plaintive murmur escape.
“Oksa…”
“I’m here, Mum,” whispered Oksa. “I’m here.”
Marie, who was in a deep sleep, sighed and her face relaxed. Oksa stretched out beside her, keeping her eyes fixed on her mother’s much-loved features. Then the late hour got the better of her and she fell into a comforting, yet short-lived, doze.
32
A GUIDED TOUR
OKSA WAS EVEN MORE AMBIVALENT ABOUT THE BENEFITS of her visit to Bigtoe Square than the last time. When she awoke it took her a few minutes to realize she was in her apartment in the Glass Column, in the invisible dimension of Edefia, so near and yet so far away. Her heart and mind were still in London, in Dragomira’s strictly private workroom, with her mother fast asleep in bed. And it was so very hard to come back.
“The pain of waking performs its inscription on the face of my Gracious.”
Still lying down, Oksa turned her head to glance sceptically at her Lunatrix.
“My Gracious must proceed to the repatriation of her entirety,” the creature instructed nasally. “Her heart cannot allow disappointment to exert destructive dominion over it. It must feast on the hope that resides in the future because the solution possesses existence within the Ephemeral Secret.”
Oksa nodded silently.
“The lumpy throat of my Gracious may be suppressed by the ingurgitation of a morning snack, does she possess the desire to make the attempt?”
When Oksa didn’t react, the steward sprang into action. Combating his natural reserve, he grabbed his young mistress’s hand and pulled at her, puffing and panting, with all his might.
“Horizontal positioning and melancholy converge on pointlessness,” he continued. “The list of tasks for my Gracious experiences proliferation and does not allow forgetfulness of the integration of the healing of her mother and her friend. This list demands the return of the will of my Gracious.”
The Getorix made a standing jump onto the bed, trying to pirouette at the same time, which brought a wan smile to Oksa’s lips, while the Lunatrix continued to pull on her arm.
“That girl looks very heavy,” remarked the Incompetent from the armchair, doing a good imitation of a household object which has been put down and forgotten.
This remark was too much for Oksa, who couldn’t help giving a hysterical guffaw which brought tears to her eyes.
“Hey, mush for brains!” exclaimed the Getorix, jumping back onto the bed. “Don’t forget that girl is our Gracious!”
The Incompetent looked at it in confused suspicion.
“It doesn’t seem to be making her very happy,” he said.
Oksa stopped laughing immediately, and the Getorix threw himself at the Incompetent, beating small, angry fists against its wrinkled abdomen. But the laconic observation spoken by the soft-headed creature had struck a nerve. Cut to the quick, Oksa got up from her bed, tidied her hair by combing her fingers through it and went over to the Incompetent. She grabbed the Getorix by the scruff of its neck and held it at arm’s length while she gave the lethargic creature a well-deserved kiss.
“Thank you!” she said. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You’ve just hit the nail on the head.”
The Incompetent gazed at her blankly before sinking back into its hazy reverie. Oksa dropped the Getorix, which was struggling violently, and turned to her Lunatrix.
“Didn’t you say something about a morning snack?”
The Lunatrix nodded, beaming from ear to ear.
“I need to regain my strength,” added Oksa, looking fiercely at him. “I’ve got work to do, you know.”
Although sunshine was still rare, Edefia’s temperature had risen by a few degrees and, more tellingly, the daylight was noticeably brighter. Although the sky was still overcast with depressingly grey clouds, as in London, the sun was managing to force its way through in places to cast patches of comforting brilliance.
Guided by Emica and Olof, the two Servants for Reconstruction, and accompanied by her usual entourage—Abakum, Pavel, Tugdual, Zoe and the Lunatrix—Oksa walked down the wide avenues of Thousandeye City, which had been laid out in a semicircle. What she’d seen of the city while imprisoned by Ocious in the Glass Column bore no resemblance to what was before her now—the thick layer of grey dust carpeting the paved streets, the skeletal trees and the dilapidated houses had gone. The rain that had fallen when the Heart of the Two Worlds had been healed, and equilibrium restored, had revived the city, along with all Edefia, even though it still bore the scars of countless wounds. Built in a circle around the Column, the city’s surface area had gradually been eroded by desertification over the years. The centre, however, was relatively unscathed, although the buildings, which couldn’t be maintained in good order, hadn’t escaped the depredations of the Years of Tar. These poignant, noble houses, although flaking, cracked and sometimes partially demolished, still retained some of their former splendour. Built on movable bases that allowed the whole building to follow the sun throughout the day, most of them were composed of different-sized cubes stacked in pyramids or less conventional forms. Metal or stone frameworks supported walls made of slabs of opaque glass or blocks of wood covered with all sorts of climbing plants. Vertical farming, which Oksa had seen carried out in Leafhold, had been adopted here on a grand scale. However, although the buildings had valiantly braved the crippling shortages, the few surviving plants were dying, despite the recent rain.
