Memory Seed (20 page)

Arrahaquen returned to the kitchen to unwrap the third course from its protective foil wrapping. She took it in on one tray, saying, ‘Take what you want from this. It’s a green salad, with blue lettuce, chicory, crushed nettles, miniature tomatoes, potato purée with strong black onions, and this orange stuff is a bowl of aamlon carrot-butter that Graaff-lin made specially. It’s got the tiniest touch of uz in it.’

Zinina used two forks to take a great helping of the salad, tidying up the remains when everybody had finished. Arrahaquen noticed that, although deKray had drunk as much wine as Zinina, his composure seemed unruffled, whereas Zinina was now singing snatches from rude jannitta idylls, and Graaff-lin was smiling and even chatting.

Arrahaquen brought in the penultimate course. ‘Pear and greengage pasties,’ she said, ‘with honey nuggets, treacly custard, and some hazelnut biscuits to go on the side.’

Arrahaquen was proud of this course. The whole meal had taken four and a half hours to cook, and this had been the most time consuming. But they loved it and nothing remained.

‘Is there any more of that?’ Zinina asked.

‘I’m afraid not,’ she said, pretending to be sorrowful.

‘What!’ Zinina said, standing on her chair. ‘I shall attack the kitchen! Oaz, oaz! Don’t try to stop me! Us! DeKray’ll be my lieutenant.’

‘Descend from that chair,’ deKray said.

Zinina did so, favouring him with a lengthy kiss, much to Arrahaquen’s fascination and Graaff-lin’s repulsion, then opening the ninth bottle of wine.

Arrahaquen tottered into the kitchen, put everything into antiseptic water, then picked up the final course, which she carried on one tray. ‘Fresh fruit,’ she said, ‘washed in sterile water and lovely and crisp and juicy.’

Zinina said, ‘Talking of which–’

Arrahaquen continued, ‘I’ve checked them all for bugs. There’s some apples, pears, two oranges though one’s got a hole in the rind, lots of black grapes, and, look, even a quince. I’ll just cut that into quarters so we can all have some.’

‘I want some now,’ Zinina said, opening the tenth bottle of wine and refilling all five glasses. ‘What is a quince anyway?’

DeKray said, ‘A hard, acid fruit of that tree related to the pear and the apple, and used in preserves, etcetera.’

‘Look,’ said Zinina, ‘I can get my tongue right into the middle of this orange. That’s a useful skill, y’know.’

They finished off the tray of fruit, then walked, staggered, and in Zinina’s case danced erotically into the front room, where Arrahaquen had dragged the two least decrepit couches. DeKray and Zinina flopped into one, two bottles of wine at their side, while Arrahaquen and Graaff-lin took the other, and the crate too, which still contained three bottles. Arrahaquen, now approaching drunkenness, remembered that she had left the envelope in the other room. She told deKray to retrieve it, then put it on the central table, next to two boxes of boiled sweets that she had found, quite by accident, under an old kettle in the larder.

Graaff-lin had brought a portable rig. This she plugged into the floor port, tuning the device to an aamlon music station. A symphony was in progress. The music thrummed and trilled as they talked and drank.

‘Do you think the Portreeve will announce her plan to save Kray?’ deKray asked Arrahaquen.

‘Who cares?’ Zinina opined.

‘I think she will,’ Arrahaquen said. ‘After all, there’d be rioting everywhere if she didn’t.’

Zinina burst into laughter. ‘There is rioting everywhere,’ she said. ‘Bad rioting. Revellers revellin’ and stuff.’

‘I think the Portreeve will announce a plan,’ Graaff-lin said, ‘but probably not until the last moment.’

Zinina opened another bottle of wine. ‘If you’re gonna talk serious stuff, deKray an’ me’ll pop off for a minute.’

Zinina led deKray away, slamming the door after her, then slamming the door to another room... though not deliberately, Arrahaquen reflected, just out of high spirits. ‘Guess what they’re up to,’ she said, suddenly envious of Zinina, and the access she enjoyed to a free man.

‘I’d rather not consider it,’ Graaff-lin said.

‘Turn the music up a bit, would you? Thanks. So, these words you’ve discovered, they’re part of the machine language used by the nop... the noots... them things?’

‘It’s conscoositee machine language,’ Graaff-lin replied, a smile on her face. ‘The conscoositee ffordion lives in a dwan in the land of Gwmru. I’m trying now to find a way to access a far bigger vocabulary, so I can talk directly to the conscoosities.’

‘And these are your Dodspaat, Graaff-lin?’

‘I think so.’

Arrahaquen nodded dreamily, half entwined in her own thoughts. She sensed nothing when it came to Graaff-lin, saw no images, experienced no feelings, but her ability, if such it was, had not yet properly developed. She said, ‘Do you really think the Portreeve will announce anything?’

‘Oh, yes. I think the conscoosities are advising her and the Red Brigade. I think they all live in the circuitry underneath the Citadel.’

Arrahaquen wondered. ‘If only we could find out where Gwmru is.’

‘It is not impossible,’ Graaff-lin said.

Arrahaquen had never heard her sound so confident.

‘Really?’

Graaff-lin nodded. ‘I say that because of something deKray mentioned yesterday. He said he had read a legend somewhere, in his childhood, of Gwmru – that it was a country with no borders, and yet was everywhere, like the aura of the Dodspaat. This agrees with what the serpent told me – that Gwmru was a land...’

Plainly Graaff-lin had more to say, but she seemed shy, as though unwilling to reveal her deeper thoughts and speculations. ‘Go on, do,’ Arrahaquen urged.

‘Well, I think that if only we could get a pyuton we might be able to visit Gwmru.’

Arrahaquen was amazed. ‘But how?’

‘I don’t know. I’m just guessing. Please don’t tell deKray what I have said, he will think me an idiot.’

‘All right. But Graaff-lin, I don’t think you’re an idiot.’

She smiled. ‘DeKray said that it was a childhood memory. On an impulse I leafed through some old teaching books that I had, that I’d not looked at for decades, and I found a most amazing thing. It was a picture of a pyuton done for a child – you know, a simplistic drawing for a toddler. But it was labelled, Arrahaquen, and the most amazing thing was that her... oh, I can’t say it, I’m sorry.’

‘Her what?’

Graaff-lin’s face had turned red. ‘Her... down there.’

‘Her genitalia?’

‘Yes. Next to its proper name it was labelled “gwm”. That’s surely not a coincidence.’

Mental floodgates seemed to open for Arrahaquen as Graaff-lin’s ideas tumbled out. Pyutons were indistinguishable from women externally; they possessed every organ. Why should that be? But more importantly than that, she had heard stories, childish stories, smirked over in yards by kids who knew next to nothing about sex, that pyutons were sexually active.

‘It could be a coincidence,’ she said, ‘but then maybe not. You never see a male pyuton, but, well, I’ve heard silly stories about pyutons making love to one another, haven’t you?’

‘Well... yes.’

‘I wonder. I wonder if Gwmru comes from that word, gwm.’

‘DeKray might be able to find out.’

Arrahaquen nodded. ‘Let’s wait until he comes back. Oh, hurry up, Zinina. Don’t tell him what we’re thinking, Graaff-lin, let’s just ask him and see what he comes up with.’

They did not have long to wait. Singing still, Zinina returned from her room, and deKray arrived some minutes later. Arrahaquen launched into her request.

‘DeKray, you’ve got a huge library, haven’t you?’

For some reason Zinina burst into peals of laughter.

‘Indeed, my library is the third largest in Kray,’ he replied, ‘and full of all manner of works. Why?’

‘Could you look up the derivation of a word for us?’

‘Indeed.’

‘It’s “gwm.” As in the first three letters of Gwmru.’

‘Aha, I have already perused dictionaries over that word,’ he replied, ‘but the derivation is merely quaint and descriptive, I am afraid. Gwmru literally means “the land of the valleys”.’

Arrahaquen turned to stare at Graaff-lin.

‘Is there aught of significance?’ deKray asked, rolling then lighting one of his cigarettes.

Tongue-tied, Graaff-lin nodded at Arrahaquen. Arrahaquen said, ‘Well, possibly.’

DeKray took a puff. Menthol fumes began to circulate around the room. Zinina opened the last bottle of wine.

DeKray said, ‘Continue, please.’

Arrahaquen shrugged. ‘It seems “gwm” is an old word for a woman’s genitalia. A valley. We were just wondering...’

DeKray nodded, and if the intensity of his cigarette’s glow and the speed at which it was being smoked was any indication of the depth of this thought, he was intrigued. Zinina just giggled, lying prone on the sofa, her feet on deKray’s thighs. DeKray shifted slightly, and his leather kirtle creaked. He began to roll a second cigarette. ‘A most curious connection,’ he said. ‘I suppose it could be a coincidence, but mayhap it is not.’

‘Are you thinking the same thoughts as me?’ Arrahaquen said.

‘About intimate pyuton relations? One hears stories, of course, but I confess I know no details.’

‘We gotta lotta learn,’ Zinina burbled, scratching her scalp. ‘A
lotta
learn. Arrahaquen, you gotta get your double down here.’

DeKray left to visit the bathroom, Arrahaquen pointed out how difficult it would be to retrieve her pyuton replica.

‘I could do it easy-weasy,’ Zinina replied.

‘You’re sure you won’t be too tired?’ remarked Graaff-lin.

‘Hoy,’ Zinina said, sitting up, ‘you can say what you like, because I’m too happy to be angry. Too happy.’

Arrahaquen found herself irritated by Zinina’s blasé reply. ‘Don’t you think we’re all taking a risk with this man?’ she said earnestly. ‘Zinina, you could be wasting valuable time with him. There’s only months left. Haven’t you seen the state of the northern quarters? It’s a forest. Nobody lives there. Haven’t you seen the refugees in the south?’

‘Oh, don’t harass me,’ Zinina replied, waving her arms about in a gesture of carelessness. ‘You’s only envious. Envious of what we gets up to, ha ha!’

‘I think it is dangerous and irresponsible,’ said Graaff-lin.

‘Yes,’ Arrahaquen agreed, ‘what if he’s got pestilence viruses?’

‘Well he hasn’t, so there.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He told me.’

Arrahaquen said, ‘You didn’t just believe him? Oh, how naive can you get?’

‘You don’t understand,’ said Zinina. ‘I can see what this all is. You’s envious of my relationship. Who knows, you’s thinking, it might blossom into love, an’ that’s what you don’t wanna see ’cos your life’s so empty of it an’ mine ain’t.’

‘Love?’ Arrahaquen said, feeling angry now. ‘Love, in Kray? Zinina, in this city there’s only lust and despair. You’ve got a case of lust, that’s all.’

‘That’s all?’ Zinina replied, sitting up now. ‘It’s quite a bit more’n that, an’ you know it well. You’s just envious. How many women get a chance to fuck a man more’n once, eh? You lot just go into the Fishies and find the nearest unoccupied prod. But not me, oh no,’ and here Zinina dissolved into giggles once more, ‘not me, I got one only, only one, an’ that’s all I need. Besides, he really likes me. You gotta man who likes you, eh?’

‘He could kill you,’ Graaff-lin said. ‘I may be a priestess of the Dodspaat, but I know how disease is carried between people.’

Zinina said, ‘Wha’s that gotta do with anythin’?’

‘We’re only trying to help you,’ Arrahaquen said. She felt angry at Zinina for ignoring their advice, angry too for what seemed the possibility of their group splitting. She said, ‘We’ve been through a lot together–’

‘Hoy, you’re touching me heart.’

‘–and we can’t let a man break us up. We’ve got to find out about the plan, and how to escape.’

‘There is no escape, you silly woman,’ Zinina said, suddenly flaring up. ‘Don’t you see that? It’s all a waste of time. This is the end. We might as well enjoy our last few months.’

Arrahaquen felt stung. She felt she needed to hurt Zinina for saying that. ‘That’s just the old reveller talking,’ she told Zinina contemptuously. ‘How do you know it’s the end? What gives you the right to say? Been speaking to serpents?’

‘Don’t call me a reveller,’ Zinina replied, her face flushing. ‘I’m no reveller, right? I’m an indep. I’m not a reveller and never will be, so don’t ever call me one!’ Her voice was raised now to a shout. ‘Or I’ll belt you one!’

‘Only the morally poor descend to violence,’ Graaff-lin commented.

Zinina returned to lying on the couch. She undid her brassiere and kicked off her slippers, just to annoy them, Arrahaquen knew. Then she said, ‘I don’t care what you say. You just can’t stand seein’ me with him ’cos it shows up what you ain’t got. You’s just trying to bring me down. Say whatcha like, it can’t hurt me. Relationships do that, y’know, they give ya strength. DeKray gives me strength.’

‘It looks to me as if he is exhausting you,’ Graaff-lin retorted with rare venom. ‘What do you talk about when you sit on him of an afternoon? Botany? Philosophy? Technological ethics?’

Zinina laughed. ‘You think I lie on him? Have I gotta shock for you. Sometimes he does it on
me!’

Graaff-lin gave a little scream and put her hand to her mouth. Arrahaquen did not know what to say. Zinina seemed to have an answer to their every argument; and – it pained her to admit it – she did seem tonight to have a rare confidence in what she was saying, a confidence that Arrahaquen had never noticed before. Suddenly, she felt ashamed for saying the things she had said to Zinina.

There was silence in the room. ‘Er, where is he?’ Arrahaquen said. He had been gone a while.

Zinina jumped up, left, but soon returned. ‘He’s asleep in a room. Tired out, seems to me.’

‘Well, at least he’s safe. I... I suppose we should be grateful for his intelligence, if nothing else.’

Zinina said nothing. Nor did Graaff-lin.

Arrahaquen unwrapped one of the boiled sweets. ‘Perhaps we have underestimated his worth slightly. I mean, he does know a lot, doesn’t he, Graaff-lin?’