Arcadia (31 page)

From somewhere behind Rory and Silvia comes a stifled shriek. Silvia's hand goes tense on Rory's shoulder. The tough-looking woman starts and stares and says, “That sounded like Soph.” Sal's expression loses its wary politeness at once. She's glaring, reining in her horse. Suddenly all the animals are moving, scuffling around each other. “Quick,” sunglasses woman snaps. “At least grab the kid.” She and the tough one are pushing their way to the front. Silvia folds her arms around Rory but doesn't move. She couldn't move anyway, there's horse everywhere. The atmosphere's turned dangerous in the blink of an eye. “I'll go and see,” says the tough one, and spurs her mount into a noisy canter, disappearing down the road behind them. The general shouts after her: “Ace!” She's steered her horse behind Rory and Silvia. The two of them are now encircled by clumping hooves and angry stares. Rory feels like he's about to be crushed, and clutches at Silvia's hand. The woman in the sunglasses unwraps the length of chain from her hand and starts swinging it in circles over her head. “Hand over the boy!” she shouts. “Easy,” Sal's saying, “easy,” but now the horse-faced one's dismounted. She's wearing fingerless gloves with thick metal hoops over her knuckles; she holds them up, flexing her hands, and beckons at Rory. “Come on, you,” she says.

Silvia stands her ground. A horse whinnies right by Rory's ear. He closes his eyes and burrows his head against Silvia. He can hear the chain whirring in the air. “For Christ's sake, be careful with that,” Sal says, but the sunglasses woman's voice has a nasty edge now. “If that was Soph,” she says, breathing hard, “God help you—”

“They've got Soph!” An angry shout from down the road behind them. “Get hold of them, quick!”

“Shit,” says Sal, and “Here!” shouts horse-face, and the next thing Rory knows he's in the middle of a wordless scuffle, women tugging and pulling and grunting. Someone yanks him away from Silvia. “Don't touch me!” she snaps, in her own voice, and then there's more scuffling, and then a glint of metal, and everyone's suddenly standing still, breathing out clouds of steam like the horses.

Sal the general has taken out a knife. She's holding it almost apologetically, but firmly, showing it to everyone, her eyes on Silvia. The arm around Rory's neck belongs to the horse-faced woman. They all stand there, eyeing each other, not wanting things to get any worse, and in that pause the tough-looking woman in the black leather jacket comes back, riding hard around the curve of the road, pulling her horse to a skittery halt. “They've got Soph,” she says. “The two men. One of them's a monster. Huge. Get that bitch wrapped up.”

Sunglasses woman needs no second invitation. She steps quickly behind Silvia, pulls her arms behind her back, and wraps the chain around her wrists. Silvia hisses a curse and grimaces in pain, but she's stopped struggling. She glances at Rory and to his amazement gives him her briefest and most secretive smile.

“Are they with the Pack?” says the woman who's holding Rory, the horse-faced one. Her breath smells particularly foul. She's wedged her arm hard against his neck. He can't move at all if he wants to keep breathing.

“Don't think so.” The tough woman has got a cricket bat from somewhere, and is hefting it purposefully in one hand while she steers her horse around with the other. “It's those two from the boat.” The others are all on foot, horses milling around nervously behind them. Sal stands close in front of Silvia and slowly lowers the knife. “This will be OK,” she says, speaking very clearly. “Do you understand me? No fight.”

“Long as you behave,” adds horse-face, giving Rory's neck a little tug: little, but enough to make his throat burn.

The next thing that happens is Lino comes haring down the road and around the corner, where he stops at once, taking in the scene, his enormous eyes round as saucers. He shouts something to Silvia, who answers.

“Sounds like Italian,” Sal says. “
Italiano
?
”

Ignoring her, Silvia exchanges something with Lino again. He trots back out of sight.

“He says your woman is not hurt,” Silvia says to Sal, in her proper voice. “I tell my friend to make sure it stays the same. There is no need for this.”

Sal stares at her in surprise.

“Well well well,” says sunglasses woman. “This is a clever one.”

“Be gentle with the boy,” Silvia says. “He doesn't speak English. He is frightened.”

Got it
, Rory thinks. It's a weird feeling. He's being half throttled and Silvia's got her hands tied behind her back, but he can tell somehow that she's in control of the situation.

“Easy, Jody,” Sal says to horse-face. “No need to strangle the kid. We can sort this out.”

“Where's Soph?” says the one with the sunglasses.

“They're bringing her,” says the tough one.

Lino returns, walking this time, soon followed by Per. Everyone goes very still when Per comes into view. He's holding his staff in one hand, as always, but with the other he's got a tall scrawny woman by the scruff of the neck and he's pushing her along like another of his sacks. They've gagged her with a band of red cloth, a long sock maybe, tied through her mouth and around the back of her head.

Sunglasses woman wrenches Silvia's arms. “Tell them to get that out of her mouth right away,” she says in her ear. “And don't pretend you don't understand me.”

“It's all right,” Sal says. She raises her voice. “Everyone's a little tense. Let's calm it down.” She turns to Silvia. “Can you ask them to take that gag off, please? Soph's a bit sweary but she doesn't bite.”

“And you let go of the boy,” Silvia says.

Sunglasses woman's about to say something angry but Sal stops her. “OK,” she says. “Jody?”

With obvious reluctance, Jody removes her arm from Rory's throat. He rubs his neck, gulping air. Silvia says something to Lino, who unties the tall woman's mouth.

“Fucking arseholes,” she says, as soon as she can speak. She's got an accent that's not from England: it comes out as
aahhsholes
. She has a narrow face, young but grown-up, pocked all around her cheeks and mouth with pimple scars. Her hair's longer and straighter than Silvia's and almost as black. She rubs her chin. “They were waiting for me at the crossroads.” She says
waiting
like
whiting
. Per's holding her at arm's length, and even though she's very tall, taller even than Kate, she looks like a rag puppet in front of him.

“Let her go,” the tough woman says to Per. She's still mounted and still gripping the cricket bat.

“Careful, Sal,” shouts the woman called Soph. The two groups are separated by maybe twenty strides of road, littered with the gang's bags. “Fuckers knew I was coming. Must've seen me. This lot know what they're doing.”

Lino calls a question. Before Silvia can answer sunglasses woman has twisted her arms again. “That's enough of that,” she says. “They could be planning something. Only English now, all right?”

“Hold the woman.” Silvia's answering Lino, in English, as she's been told. “If there is trouble, break her neck.”

“Bitch,” spits horse-face, and grabs Rory's shoulders. There's a lot of angry stirring, but Sal moves quickly, raising her arms and her voice together. “Everyone listen,” she says. “Everyone!” She moves to calm her horse, then swings herself up onto its saddle and rides into the space in the middle of the standoff. “No one's going to get hurt. All right?” She glares at the rest of her army, and then at Lino and Per. “Do you understand me? No one gets hurt? Do they understand that much?”

“Yes,” Silvia says.

“Good. Now. Let's talk. Just talk, OK? Let's find out what you want.”

“To go on this road,” Silvia says. “East. Left alone. We have food and everything we need.”

“If they're so keen to commit suicide,” the tough one says, “might as well let them go.”

“No way, Ace,” says the one with the sunglasses. “The Professor's going to want to talk to them.”

“I don't like the idea of taking them to Dolphin,” Jody says. “We could blindfold the men and march them to the Mount, like Haze said.”

“It's on their way,” sunglasses woman—presumably Haze—agrees. “Let's do that. Grab that kid.”

“No,” Sal says loudly. “I told you, we're just talking.”

Haze mutters something Rory can't hear, though it doesn't sound complimentary.

“The giant's the one to watch,” Soph shouts. “Benson wouldn't go near him. Bolted when he looked at him. I don't like that club of his either.”

“Your friend is wise,” Silvia says. “Per is not a man to make angry.”

“You should try me,” Ace says.

“Stop it,” Sal says.

“Let us go.” Silvia's still addressing only Sal, staying very calm. “Untie my hands, we will pick up our things, give you back your friend, go on to the east. We find what we are looking for and you will not see the four of us again.”

“Well,” Ace says, “that last bit's certainly right.”

“What is it you're looking for?” Sal says.

“This I can't tell you.”

“The Valley?”

“The room where your wishes come true,” Ace says sarcastically.

“The well whose water cures every illness of body or soul,” Haze says, as if she's reciting something.

“I have never heard this name, the Valley,” Silvia says with a straight face. Rory gapes for a moment before remembering he's not supposed to understand anything.

“It's a long day's walk due east,” Sal says. “That's what you said you were planning, isn't it? If that's where you think you're going, the Valley's where you'll end up. You're not the only ones who've gone looking in there.”

“But we are the only ones who will find what we look for,” Silvia says. Ace snorts a snort worthy of Per.

“They came in a boat, Ace,” says Haze. “Think about it. Two men.”

“Exactly,” says Jody.

“This is serious shit,” Soph says, apparently agreeing with the other two. “Listen, Sal. They did something to the old coot's dog. His dog, understand? Knocked it out cold. Good as killed it.”

For some reason this makes a huge impression on the other women. Haze looks up at Sal.

“Christ,” she says. “We've got to bring them with us.” Jody and Ace are both muttering in agreement. “Might be our chance to finish off the Pack.”

“All right,” Sal says. She's speaking to Silvia. Rory has the feeling the two of them are eyeing each other up, conducting a kind of silent battle separate from all the others. “You've said what you want, here's what we want. We want you to come with us.”

“No,” Silvia says.

“You're going east, we'll take you east.”

“Not Dolphin, Sal,” says Jody, warning.

Sal ignores her. “It's on your way. You'll stay with us one night, that's all. We can talk properly. There are things we need to ask you. Then you can go, and I promise no one will interfere after that.”

“No,” Silvia says again. “We go alone.”

Sal frowns, looks at her hands. “I'm sorry,” she says. “Like I said, there are things we need to talk about.”

“Get hold of the kid, Jody,” Haze says quickly, and Jody does. “Don't!” Sal says, but she's not really a general. She may be keeping her head better than the rest of her army but she's not giving orders. Rory gasps as an arm squeezes his windpipe again.

It's hard to make sense of what happens next. For one thing he can't see very well with Jody twisting his head around and most of his attention focused on trying to breathe, and for another thing it's all over incredibly quickly, as collapses are. It's actually his gasp that sets it all off. Silvia twists around to see what they're doing to him, exerting herself for the first time, pulling away from Haze, who's not expecting it. Haze grabs at her with a “No you don't,” and yanks her bound wrists too roughly, which makes Silvia yelp with pain. Rory doesn't exactly see what happens with Per but he hears the beginning of an angry growl and then gets a confused glimpse of Per and Soph tumbling together. It looks like she's kicked back with the heel of her riding boots and smacked him in the shins, making him let go of her collar. All at once everyone's shouting. Soph's rolling forward and running towards them and meanwhile Ace has spurred her horse and is charging the other way, towards Per, brandishing the cricket bat. Sal's yelling something no one's listening to. Rory's being pulled backwards while Jody tries to catch the reins of her panicky horse with her other hand. “Give me the knife!” Haze screams, and then, even louder, not screaming but commanding, Silvia shouts “Per, don't!” in a tone which sounds like it could stop tides and silence the wind, but Per does.

What he does, exactly, Rory doesn't see. He hears it instead. He hears a ferocious bellow in a language that isn't English or Italian or Danish, a language whose sounds don't come from anywhere in the human world. Then he hears a rush of wind, though there's no wind to go with it, and the sound's too hollow somehow, too parched and empty to be anything to do with the weather. Then he hears a lot of women and horses screaming. Jody drops him. His knees and palms sting as he falls but he looks up in time to see Ace's horse rear up and twist inside a miniature typhoon of evanescent flame. It's not the way horses are supposed to rear up. No animal's body is supposed to move like that: it's like it's being electrocuted, like it's trying to find a way out of its own skin. “Per!” Silvia shouts again, but he can't hear her. His eyes aren't his eyes anymore, they're something else, discs of brass. He's clutching the staff and holding it thrust out towards the tormented horse. Ace slides out of her saddle but her foot's tangled in the stirrup somehow and instead of falling she tips backward, screaming, and flips upside down. Her head hits the road with a crack so horrible it cuts through all the shouting and makes Rory seize up and double over and squeeze his eyes closed. The wind that isn't wind is roaring now: it sounds like voices, hundreds of them, each one a dead whisper but together an unbearable chorus. It forces Rory's eyes open again in time for him to see the maddened horse leap straight into the hedge, pulling Ace behind it like a sack. She's limp and leaking blood from her head. The horse's hind legs thump and clatter her as it scrambles for a footing in the thick bramble, plunging through thorns as if whatever's torturing it is ten times worse, heedless of the deadweight it's dragging against stones and roots and barbs. It tramples and claws its way over the hedge and vanishes from sight, galloping wildly across the abandoned field. There's more galloping, hooves beating on the road. Rory turns himself round to see the other riders disappearing, two of them doubled up on one of the horses. Somehow they must have got themselves mounted and away. Silvia's on her knees in the road, her hands still pinned behind her back, but all she cares about is Per. “Lino!” she screams, and then something in Italian. Lino's staring at Per in horror, but Silvia's order breaks his trance. He springs up and claps his hand in front of Per's face, four times, five times, yelling.