Castles Made of Sand (49 page)

‘My impression is he started hitting on her the moment you left,’ said George. ‘She held out, and put him off. I think she had to let him have his way, to save our lives, after Ax’s chip turned up and David died. That was last October.’

‘We
didn’t know
what was really going on,’ said Bill. ‘Fuck, how could we?’

Seven months. Sage reached for the vodka, poured another shot and downed it, with more success this time.

‘I don’t want to talk to Ax. Don’t let me have to talk to him.’

‘You
don’t want to talk to Ax
?’ exclaimed Peter. ‘Huh? But what’ll we tell him?’

‘You’ll have to do it sometime,’ said George, compassionately.

‘I can’t. What would I say?’ Sage set down the glass and wiped tears with the back of his hand. ‘What could I say to him, George? But I can’t anyway. Ax mustn’t know what I’m doing. I’ll tell
you
, but you’ll have to promise me you’ll keep your mouths shut. Ax and Fiorinda mustn’t be involved.’

Hours later, at the barmy army HQ at Easton Friars near Harrogate, he slipped into the room where she was sleeping. ‘Do you want us to go?’ whispered one of the medics. He shook his head. He’d just wanted to see her again, before he left.

From Easton Friars he returned to London, to the roof of a tower in the City that belonged to
eks. Photonics
, his father’s company. Before he went to Reading, to meet the Heads and search Fiorinda’s rooms, he’d arranged to borrow a helicopter and a pilot from his dad. Olwen was on the roof, with Joss Pender.

Fiorinda was rescued, but Ax was still going to have to invade, because Benny Preminder wasn’t going to fold. The Celtics wanted a showdown, and Fiorinda was
not safe
, though surrounded by an army of ruffians who would gladly die for her. Joss and his son, the skull-masked giant and the slight, dapper software baron, talked a little. How
eks
., had survived ‘Fergal’s regime, despite the anti-science backlash, due to Joss’s low cunning. Polite nothings, to take the place of the things that should have been said.

Olwen spoke with Serendip. The Zen Self mainframe must go with Sage: a facet would not be enough this time. ‘You may not come back, my lady.’

If the jewel were destroyed, ‘Serendip’ could be recreated, but a clone is not the same person. It was hard for both of them.

Our friendship will remain, answered Serendip, calmly. In the state of all states, where nothing is lost. We are together there.

‘Thank you for this, Stephen,’ said Joss, as the rotors began to turn.

Sage was surprised: his dad had called him ‘Sage’ for years. Not in any friendly way, either. He’d believed Joss was very glad to pretend that Stephen, the sick child from hell, the teenage junkie, had never existed.

‘For what? I should be thanking you.’

‘For trusting me. For letting me help you, for once in your life.’

Sage took off the mask. ‘Thanks for being my fixer.’

They embraced, tall Sage very awkward with the transaction. Olwen gave Sage the ring. He put Serendip on his finger, hugged Olwen, and climbed into the machine. It rose and soared away. The pilot turned and smiled shyly as Sage put on his helmet. ‘Hi, Sage. It’s good to have you back, Sir.’

‘Hi,’ said the Minister for Gigs, smiling in return. He relapsed into silence and they soared, they flew westwards. Sage thought of his band, of Ax, of his friends.

All over now.

Fiorinda slept for twelve hours, woke feeling almost human and persuaded the barmy whitecoats she was fit to get up. She ate a big bowl of lentil soup, with some very tasty brown bread, to prove it; while they found her some clothes. Showered and dressed (her hair charred at the edges and still stinking of smoke, but never mind) she went in search of company. Easton Friars was buzzing. Everyone was too busy with the war effort to pay attention to a rescued princess. This put her out a little, but she found the Heads eventually, doing nothing in a bare, echoing games room on the ground floor. When they saw her they shot to their feet, their mouths open.

‘Fiorinda!’ gasped George. ‘You’re unbelievable. You aren’t supposed to be—’

‘I’m not
ill
,’ said Fiorinda. She perched herself on the arm of a scuffed and balding leather armchair. ‘I was nearly burned at the stake, which was quite an experience, and I’ve no doubt I’m going to crash horribly when the reaction hits me. But for the moment I feel wonderful. It’s amazing what not being in prison, and getting a little good news, will do for you.’

George and Bill and Peter sat down slowly, nodding.

‘Yeah.’

‘Incredible good news.’

‘We was just saying that to ourselves,’ Peter assured her, with transparent guile.

‘Where is Sage?’

Three guilty faces. She discerned that Peter, at least, had been crying. Oh, God. Crash horribly. NO! This is not the moment to crash.‘Where the fuck is he,’ she snarled, ‘What’s he up to? Don’t piss around. Just
tell me—
’

‘He’s gone off to do something important,’ said George, unhappily.

‘Oh yeah? Like what kind of important? Does Ax know?
What is Sage doing?
’

‘Ax knows,’ said Bill, ‘er, some. He may not have the complete full details—’

Fiorinda set her teeth. ‘Oh fine. Absolutely
fine
. So, he’s doing something stupid and he has not told Ax. Shit…has he gone off to assassinate Benny?’

‘No!’ The Heads looked relieved, though no less unhappy. ‘No, no,’ said George, reassuringly. ‘He’s not
daft
. Fuck, what’s the use in assassinating Benny?’

‘Much as it would be a result,’ put in Bill.

‘It would be politically untenable,’ said Peter, ‘an’ it wouldn’t work either.’

‘No, no. Fact is, he’s gone after your dad, Fiorinda.’

‘He’s always wanted to,’ Peter explained. ‘An’ he reckons now is the time.’

There was a well-hammered dartboard across the room, flanked by equally pockmarked portraits. Nineteenth-century hoorays. Did they come with the house, all these tatty old pictures? The world was shaking around her. This world which is still in blissful ignorance of what Rufus O’Niall is.

‘Oh God. Oh, God. He can’t do that. He has
no idea
—’

‘Yes he does, Fiorinda,’ said George, looking her in the eye. ‘
He knows about your dad
. He’s got a plan. An’ he wouldn’t let us go with him, but he’s taken Serendip. I mean, not a facet, Serendip. Olwen’s lent him the ring.’

‘Sage has a plan!’ wailed Fiorinda, jumping to her feet, beside herself with rage and terror. ‘Oh, great. You know fucking well Sage never had a plan in his life, beyond
go for it until you got no armies left
. He has Serendip, oh wonderful. What can a fucking computer do? He doesn’t need
computer—
’ Suddenly, she quieted. She stared at them, in wondering certainty. ‘He needs me.’

They stared back, her guardian angels. Big George. Aquiline Bill, so aloof from the whole vulgar rockstar business. Peter, wrapped in his strange innocence. They were determined, but
in their dreams
they could keep her out of this.

‘Okay, how bad is it? I was on that bonfire yesterday, and I know he was here last night. Has he left the country?’

‘Not yet,’ said Peter, eager to say something positive. ‘Not ’til morning tide.’

George and Bill glared at him, disgusted.

‘Thank you, Peter. Right, I want the details. Everything. Come on,
now
.’

Padstow Harbour at first light, one morning in July. The boats moored at the quayside, several ranks deep, were stirring with the dawn. The harbour was a more workmanlike place than it had been a few years ago. There’d have been people about at this hour, but Mr Dictator’s invasion was imminent and every port in England was under curfew, nobody allowed near.

Sage however, had had no trouble getting on board. He moved round the deck, making ready to cast off. The sound of an engine speeded him up, but didn’t distract him. He could deal with anything Padstow’s Coastal Security could suddenly mobilise.

The car turned and headed up New Street. Fiorinda stepped between crates, cables, and stinking puddles of rape-seed engine oil: dropped from the harbour wall and crossed quickly, from deck to deck, to the sleek, dazzling white hull of the
Lorien
. Sage looked up to see his rock and roll brat coming over the stern, dressedin barmy army urban camouflage trousers and a drab teeshirt. He straightened, horrified.

‘Fiorinda. What are you doing here?
How did you
—?’

‘I talked to George, stupid. I’m coming with you.’

The look of sheer horror turned to deeper distress…‘Oh no, Fiorinda. You can’t… He’s your father.’

‘Sage,’ Fiorinda advanced with menace down the deck, ‘I don’t know if you ever noticed this, but the word
father
doesn’t mean a whole lot to me. Fear not. If the Furies decide to come after me,
they will get a piece of my mind
. I know Rufus is my father. If I knew everything that had happened to him in
his
life, maybe I would even pity him. Maybe I even do. But leave aside what he did to me long ago, when you were gone, he took me in the body of a dead man, held me under threat of destroying everyone I loved, and he raped me in the body of a dead man for seven months.
Trust me
. I do not need to be protected from the trauma of helping to take him down.’

He didn’t seem to know what to do with his tall body, whether to stand or kneel, or jump over the side.

‘I wasn’t there,’ he gasped, between flight and desperate abasement, ‘Oh, God, I wasn’t there, and there’s no excuse, nothing explains that—’

‘You weren’t there. So what? You would only have got yourself killed, and I’d have had to do exactly the same, stepping over your dead body first.’

He nodded, tears spilling, taking every word like a well-deserved blow. ‘I knew that. I knew he was coming for us, and I couldn’t beat him. I knew the only way I could save you, save anyone, was to reach the Zen,
but I didn’t know he was already there
. I left you alone with him, I told you to trust him—’

‘Oh, brace up. You didn’t know, I didn’t know. We were fucking stupid, we couldn’t see what was staring us in the face, because we were having our guilty love affair. You weren’t there and I got raped, but you’re alive, you came back in time to save my life, and then you fucking RUN OUT ON ME AGAIN! Instantly! I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it! And how is Ax is going to feel,
you bastard
, when he finds out?’ She had reached him, shaking with fury and terror. ‘
Sage!
You can’t kill my father. You cannot kill him! You—you have no idea. He will tear you to pieces!’

‘No he won’t,’ said Sage, pulling himself together. ‘It’s okay, Fee. He won’t.’

On his tanned right hand he wore Olwen’s ring. The jewel flashed sunlight. ‘Oh yeah, they told me,’ she yelled, and leapt at him, so he was forced to catch her in his arms. ‘You have Serendip. Fucking wonderful! A
computer
isn’t going to help you—!’

‘Fiorinda, no, it’s not like—’

She pounded at him with her fists. ‘He’ll tear you to pieces. He’ll
tear you to pieces
and that will only be the start—’

‘Fiorinda!
Look
at me!’

‘You bastard! How can you do this? You fucking idiot!’

‘Look at me.
Look
.’

He finally managed to get her attention, to get her to look into his eyes.

She stopped fighting. The time that passed was very short, but when they returned Fiorinda was smiling. They were kneeling, face to face, his arms around her, her hands pressed to his chest. She laughed, they both laughed, hugging each other, without a care in the world.

‘Hey,’ she said, tugging his head down to kiss him, kisses all over his face, ‘forget all that, it’s all stupid. We’re together again, let’s just be happy.’

‘Good plan.’ Fiorinda pushed her face into the hollow of his throat, breathing in his warmth. This is Sage, this is my Sage—

‘George said you didn’t make it.’

‘I didn’t go all the way, but I got far enough that you’re not alone any more, my brat: and Rufus is going to get a surprise. Now—’ He unclasped her arms from around his neck, and kissed her hands, ‘let me go
, not for long
, but I have things to do.’

‘Don’t you dare run away.’

‘I won’t.’

She followed him around in the daybreak, uncertain whether she’d made her point or not. He’d given way a little too easily. Not that she’d know, but this seemed to be quite a toy. The silvery masts were arrayed with strange gleaming futuristic vanes that didn’t even look like sails, the wheelhouse held so many winking instrument desks it was like the bridge of a starship. ‘Who’s is the boat?’

‘Friend of my father’s.’ He grinned over his shoulder. ‘Can’t help the name.’

‘Do you know how to
work
all this stuff?’

‘Nah, but I have a facet of Serendip in the system. She’ll sail the
Lorien
; I’ll be taking her orders. C’me here, lemme show you. You just have to follow the prompts.’ Charts and radar, windspeeds, homeostatic systems… She leaned against his side, saying ‘yes’ occasionally: loving the mere sound of his voice, the beautiful mobility of his face. The laughter lines around his eyes and mouth were deeper than they had been. His hair was cropped and he was cleanshaven, but she had the feeling he’d been living rough, outdoors, gone through the second-degree-burns stage to get that tan; and a winter too: what
happens
at Caer Siddi? He was wearing a nose-ring, something she hadn’t known him to do for years. But what a lot of information—