Tales of the Hidden World (10 page)

“All right! That’s it! Everyone join me in the kitchen, right now! House meeting!”

In the kitchen, very soon afterward, Peter and Jubilee, Lee and Johnny sat around the table and looked at one another glumly. The radio was being quiet, thinking hard, trying to be useful. The fridge door had been left open, just in case Walter felt like contributing something useful. Up in the attic, Grandfather Grendel was being ominously silent.

“We can’t let this happen,” Peter said finally. “We just can’t! Scaffolding from the Council, blood sacrifices for the Unseeli Court, all kind of interior work to satisfy both sides . . . there’s bound to be an overlap! They couldn’t help but interfere with each other, and cause all kinds of conflicts. This House is supposed to link the two worlds, not bang their heads together.”

“It could mean the end of the House as a refuge,” said Jubilee. “If no one feels safe and secure here, if we can’t guarantee anonymity. . . . No more Sanctuary for anyone.”

“I can’t go back to the Isle of Man,” Lee said firmly. “I have had it up to here with being a Muse. I do all the hard work and the artists take all the credit! I never even get a dedication. . . . And they’re such a
needy
bunch! So clingy . . . All those bloody poets hanging around, demanding inspiration. . . . I haven’t had a decent holiday in centuries! I never wanted to be dark and morbid anyway. . . . I should have been a sylph, like Mother wanted. . . .”

“I know what you mean,” Johnny Jay said diffidently. “I won’t go back to London. I just won’t. Ever since I won that damned talent contest, the television people and the tabloids have been making my life a misery. I never wanted to be a national icon; I just wanted to sing and make people happy. The tabloids have been doorstopping all my family and friends, and anyone who ever spoke to me, looking for
interesting
stories; and when they don’t find any, they just make some up! I’ve never even been to Spearmint Rhino!”

“I am not leaving!” said Leanan-Sidhe. “I have claimed Sanctuary, and I know my rights! I demand that you protect me from this unwelcome outside interference!”

Peter looked at Jubilee. “The rules of the House say we have to give Guests Sanctuary. No one ever said we had to like them.”

“We can still give them a good slap,” said Jubilee.

“Can I watch?” said Johnny Jay, brightening up a little.

“We have to do something,” said Peter. “If the nature of the House is compromised, if the two worlds can no longer be kept separate . . . Could that actually happen, princess?”

“I don’t think the matter has ever arisen before,” said Jubilee, frowning thoughtfully. “The House exists in a state of spiritual grace, of perfect balance between the two worlds of being. Shift that balance too far either way, and this House could cease to function. A new House would have to be created somewhere else, with new management. We would not be considered. We would have failed our duty. After all these centuries, we would be the first to fail the House. . . .”

“It hasn’t come to that yet, princess,” said Peter, laying one hand comfortingly over hers. “Can the House really be threatened so easily? I thought the House was created and protected by Higher Powers?”

“We’re supposed to solve our own problems,” said Jubilee. “That’s the job.”

“Cuthbert might not know what he’s doing,” said Lee, “but you can bet that bloody Elf does. He must understand the implications of what he’s saying.”

“Of course he does!” said Jubilee. “He knows exactly what he’s doing. Our usual avoidance fields didn’t just happen to fail, revealing us to the normal world at exactly the same time as the Unseeli Court decides to take an interest in us. This was planned. I think somebody targeted us, set this all in motion for a reason.”

“To destroy the House?” said Lee.

“Who would want to do that?” said Johnny Jay.

“Or . . . are they doing this to get at someone who thought they were safe, inside the House.” Lee scowled, and something of her darker persona was briefly present in the kitchen with them. They all shuddered briefly. Lee politely pretended not to notice. “I thought anyone who claimed Sanctuary here was entitled to full privacy and protection? If any of those demanding little poets have followed me here to make trouble . . .”

“Your safety in all things is guaranteed, for as long as you care to stay here,” Jubilee said coldly. “It isn’t always about you, you know. I think . . . this is all about me and Peter. It’s all about us.”

“Your family never was that keen on our marriage, princess,” Peter said carefully.

“It wasn’t their place to say anything,” said Jubilee. “It’s the tradition, that the House’s management should be a married couple, one from each world. I was happy to marry you and happy to come here; they should have been happy for me.”

“I was never happier than when you joined your life to mine,” said Peter. “You’re everything I ever wanted. The House was just a wonderful bonus. But . . . if our marriage is threatening the House . . . I’m here because I wanted to be part of something greater, something important. I won’t let that be threatened because of me. We can’t let the House be destroyed because of us, princess. Not when it’s in our power to save it.”

“It’s my family,” Jubilee said grimly. “Has to be. My bloody family. They’d be perfectly ready to see this House destroyed, just to have me back where they think I belong. Because they can’t bear to believe that they might be wrong about something. Maybe . . . If I was to go back, they might call this off. . . . But, no. No. . . . I could leave this House to protect it, but I couldn’t leave you, Peter. My love.”

“And they’d never accept me,” said Peter. “You know that. I’d have to agree to leave you, before they’d take you back.”

“Could you do that?” said Jubilee.

“The House is bigger than either of us,” said Peter. “We’ve always known that, princess. I could not love thee half so much. . . .”

“Loved I not honor more,” said Jubilee. “We both love this House, what it represents, and the freedoms it preserves.”

“That’s why we got the job,” said Peter. “Because we’d do anything to protect this place. And now, that’s being turned against us.”

“I could leave,” Lee said abruptly. “If I thought it would help. If only because you two clearly serve a Higher Power than me.”

“Same here,” said Johnny Jay.

“No!” Peter said flatly. “Either the House is Sanctuary for everyone, or it’s Sanctuary for no one. You mustn’t go, or everything we might do would be for nothing.”

“And we can’t go, either!” Jubilee slammed her hands down flat on the tabletop, her eyes alight with sudden understanding. “Because that’s what they want! They’re depending on our sense of duty and responsibility to outweigh our love for each other. That we’d be ready to break up, to preserve the House! I’m damned if I’ll let my arrogant bloody family win! There has to be a way. . . .”

“It’s not as though we’re defenseless,” said Lee, her blood-red mouth stretching wide, revealing far too many teeth for one mouth. “Let us lure them in here, and I will teach them all the horror that lurks in the dark.”

“Do you sing, O muse of psychologically challenged poets?” said Johnny. “Because I’ll wager good money that between us we could whip up a duet that would rattle the bones and trouble the soul of everyone who heard it, whatever world they came from.”

“We will chase them, we will chase them, we will eat them up with spoons!” chanted the small furry things in the doorway, while the ball bounced excitedly up and down between them.

“I could throw things at people,” Walter said diffidently from the fridge. “If they got close enough.”

There was a low steady rumbling, from up in the attic, as Grandfather Grendel stirred. When he spoke, his words hammered on the air like storm clouds slamming together.

“Let all the worlds tremble, if I must come forth again. There have been many powers worse than elves, and I have slaughtered and feasted on them all, in my time.”

“No!” Jubilee said sharply. “This House was created by the Greatest of Powers, to put an end to conflicts, to give hope and comfort to those who wanted only peace. If we defend the House with violence, we betray everything it stands for. There has to be another way.”

“There is.” Peter leaned forward across the table, taking both of Jubilee’s hands in his. “The House exists . . . because it is necessary. It was brought into being, and is protected by, Powers far greater than your damned family, princess. Even your people wouldn’t dare upset those Powers; so call their bluff! Tell them that if this House’s function is destroyed because of them, we’ll make sure everyone knows it’s all their fault! Tell them; it’s all about rendering unto Caesar. Let both sides perform whatever home improvements they feel necessary . . . as long as they don’t interfere with each other, or the running of the House! Or else! Your family might have raised arrogance to an art form, but even they’re not dumb enough to anger the Powers That Be.”

“Peter, my love, you’re brilliant!” said Jubilee. “I think this is why I love you most. Because you save me from my family.”

“Any time, princess,” said Peter.

The next day, bright and early, but not quite as early as the day before, there was a very polite knocking at the House’s front door. When Peter went to open it, he found Mr. Cuthbert standing there, looking very grim. He nodded stiffly to Peter, or at the very least, in Peter’s direction.

“It seems . . . there may have been a misunderstanding,” he said reluctantly. “It has been decided in Council that this residence is exempt from all Health and Safety regulations, and obligatory improvements. Because it is a Listed and Protected building. No changes can be made without express permission from on high.” Mr. Cuthbert glared impotently at Peter. “I should have known the likes of you would have friends in high places!”

“Oh yes,” said Peter. “Really. You have no idea.”

And he shut the door politely but very firmly in Mr. Cuthbert’s face.

Meanwhile, at the back door, Jubilee was speaking with the Elven Prince Airgedlamh of the Unseeli Court.

“So it was you,” she said.

“Yes,” said the Elven Prince. “All things have been put right; no improvements will be necessary. The Unseeli Court has withdrawn its interest in this place. The House will endure as it always has, and so will you and so will we.”

“Go back to the family,” said Jubilee. “Tell them I’m happy here.”

“Of course. But there are those of us who do miss you at Court,” said the Elven Prince. “Good-bye, Princess.”

I had the main idea for this story years ago: it was going to be a stage play about a house on the borderland, with doors to reality and fantasy and the people who found sanctuary there. But I could never find a story to suit it. Until now. I love the characters, and I keep meaning to go back to them.

Find Heaven and Hell in the Smallest Things

T
hey threw me into
Space and then dropped me into Hell, with just a dead woman’s voice to comfort me. They should have known better. They should have known what would happen.

We sat in two rows, facing one another. Twelve people. Yes, call us people, because we certainly weren’t men or women anymore. Twelve people from Old Earth, wearing the very latest hard suits. The new armor, built for strength and speed, cutting-edge science, and all the latest weapons. Along with a built-in AI to interface between the occupant and the armor . . . to speak soft soothing words to us, keep us human, and keep our minds off the perfect killing things we’d become. We sat in two rows, six hard suits staring at six hard suits, identical suits of faceless armor, except for the numbers One to Twelve stenciled on our chests. I was Twelve. Looking at the suit opposite me was like looking at myself. Gleaming steel in the shape of a man, with a smooth featureless helm where a face should be. We couldn’t look out, but it also meant the world couldn’t look in and see us; and for that, we were grateful. We don’t need faces. We see the world with new eyes, through the augmented senses of the hard suits.

We were all of us strapped in, very securely. To hold us steady. Or to keep us under strict restraint so we couldn’t hurt anyone. Including ourselves. Just in case we were to go crazy. It does happen. After all, no sane person would allow himself to be put in a hard suit. The armor keeps us alive. The armor makes us strong and powerful. The armor is our life support and our life sentence, a prison we can never leave.

We don’t use our names anymore. Just the numbers. The people we used to be are gone. We don’t talk much. We never met one another, before they marched us aboard this ship at gunpoint. We’ve never seen one another outside our armor, and we don’t want to. Pretty people don’t get locked inside hard suits. Not handsome, whole people, with their whole lives ahead of them. They let me look in a mirror once, at the hospital, and then they had to pump a whole bunch of tranks into me to stop me screaming.

The ship’s Captain spoke to us through the overhead speakers. His voice sounded human enough, but he was no more human than we were. Just a memory deposit, grafted onto the ship’s AI. A computer haunted by an old man’s memories, the ghost in the machine. A memory of a man, to run a starship, to take things like us to worlds where Humanity isn’t welcome.

“This is the Captain of the
Duchess of Malfi
,” said the human-sounding voice. “We’ll be dropping into orbit around our destination anytime soon. The planet’s official designation is Proxima IV. Everyone else calls it Abaddon. Why? Because it’s just another name for Hell.”

The Captain wears a ship the way we wear our armor. It occurred to me that might make him a little more sympathetic to our plight than most.

“What did you do, Captain?” I said through my suits’ speakers. “What did you do, to be imprisoned in this ship?”

“Are you crazy?” said the Captain. He sounded genuinely amused. “I asked for this. Begged for it! Thirty years’ service in the Fleet, running the space lanes, at play among the planets . . . and they took it all away from me. Just because I got old. And then they came to me and offered me my own ship and the freedom of space. Forever. Of course it wouldn’t be me, as such, just the memory of me, but still . . . I jumped at the chance. I only thought I knew what captaining a ship was like. If you could only see the glories I see, through the ship’s sensors. They say Space is empty, but they’re wrong. They need to see it with better eyes. There are delicate forces and subtle energies out here that would put the brightest rainbow to shame. There are giants that walk among the stars, living shapes and concepts we don’t even have names for. We are not alone, in the dark. . . .”

An awful lot of people go crazy when you take their humanity away and lock them inside a box. Even if it’s a box as big as a ship. I tried again.

“Don’t you miss being human, Captain?”

“Of course not! How could I miss being that small, that limited? Anyway, the real me is still human. Somewhere back on Old Earth, probably dreaming about me, out here . . . Look, whatever briefing they gave you about what you’re doing, forget it. Abaddon isn’t like anything you’ve ever encountered before. Here’s the real deal: everything on the planet below is deadly to Humanity. The air, the gravity, the radiation, everything you might eat or drink, and anything you might happen to encounter. Very definitely including the extensive and murderous plant life. Once you’re down there, you’re at war with the whole world. Don’t get distracted; you’ll die. Don’t let anything get too close to you; you’ll die. Don’t get lazy or sloppy; you’ll die. Just . . . do your job, and try to survive.”

“Are there any human people at the Base on Abaddon?” said Three. The voice that issued from his speakers was neither male nor female. All our voices were like that. Anything else would have been cruel.

“Hell no,” said the Captain. “No people anywhere, on Abaddon. It’s not a people place. That’s why they’ve sent you to work on the terraforming equipment, because robots and androids can’t operate under the extreme local conditions. Now brace yourselves; we’re entering the atmosphere.”

The whole cabin shook as the
Duchess of Malfi
dropped like a stone and gave every indication of hitting something that was doing its very best to hit back. I say cabin; cargo hold would probably be more accurate. No frills or fancies, just a holding space for twelve suits of armor. Turbulence shook us like a dog shakes a rat, slamming us all back and forth in our reinforced straps. Of course we didn’t feel a thing. Feeling is one of the first things you learn to do without. The armors’ servomechanisms whined loudly as they struggled to compensate for the sudden movements. My suit’s AI flashed up status readouts on the inside of my helm to reassure me we were still operating well within the armor’s specifications.

Any human being would have been killed by that fierce descent, but we were never in any danger. Hard suits are designed to insulate their occupants from any danger they might encounter. I could hear the wind howling outside the ship, screeching like a living thing, hating the new arrival that pierced its atmosphere like a knife. The Captain was right. We’d come to a world that hated us. Welcome to Hell.

“The landing pads are almost two miles from Base Three,” said the Captain. “Once I’ve dropped you off, find the beacon and head straight for the Base. Don’t let anything stop you. Or you won’t get to Base Three.”

“What happened to Base One and Base Two?” said Seven.

“They really didn’t tell you anything, did they?” said the Captain. “How very wise of them. The whole planet is covered by one massive jungle, and everything in it hates you. Base One was entirely mechanical, drones and robots run by the Base AI. Planets overwhelmed the whole thing inside a week. You can’t even see the Base anymore; it’s buried so deep in vegetation. Base Two had a human crew; they lasted almost two months, before they stopped answering their comm. The rescue party found the Base completely deserted. Force shield down, main doors wide open, no trace of a living person anywhere. Not a clue anywhere as to what happened to them. Maybe you’ll find out. Maybe you’ll last longer.”

A holo viewscreen snapped on, floating in midair between our two rows, showing remote sensor imaging of what was waiting for us down on Abaddon. At first, all I could see was the light, bright and vicious and overpowering. My suit’s filters had to work hard to compensate, so I could see anything. The landing pads were still some distance below us, shining like three crystal coins dropped into an overgrown garden. In reality, each pad was almost half a mile wide, specially designed to absorb the destructive energies that accumulate from starship landings. The jungle came right up to the edges of the three pads, surrounding them with tall rustling stalks of threatening plant life.

“Why do they allow plants to grow so close to the landing pads?” said Nine.

“Base Three sends out drones to burn it all back, once every hour,” said the Captain. “But the jungle grows back faster than the drones can suppress it. If it weren’t for the pads’ radiations, the jungle would have buried them, too. Base Three has its own force shield; nothing gets past that. Remember: once we land, watch yourselves. You’ve got no friends down there.”

You’ll be fine, Paul,
said a warm, comforting female voice in my head. The hard suit’s AI.
Just follow your training, and everything will be well. I’m right here with you.
I didn’t say anything, but I shuddered in spite of myself.

The whole ship cried out as we slammed down onto the landing pad. The holo viewscreen disappeared, replaced by a flashing red light and an emergency siren. The Captain’s voice rose over it. “Out! Out! Everybody out! I’m not staying here one moment longer than I have to!”

Our straps flew open, releasing us at last, and we all stood up. Guns and other weapons appeared and disappeared quickly, as we ran our system checks. Servomotors whined and whirred loudly as we checked our responses, like knights in armor off on a crusade. And then a hatch opened in the far wall, a ramp extended down to the landing pad, and we went slamming heavily down the steel walkway to meet what was waiting for us.

The light hit us hard, almost blinding us despite our suits’ filters, but none of us hesitated. We just kept pressing forward, wanting to be well clear of the ship, before it took off again. The ramp disappeared the moment the last one of us stepped off, and the hatch slammed shut. We were down on Abaddon. We moved quickly to stand back to back, in squads, the way we’d been trained. The light was just about bearable now, but the air seemed . . . sour, spoiled. Two suns blazed fiercely in the sky, too fierce to look at directly. The sky was the crimson of fresh blood, the roiling clouds like dark masses of clotted blood, outlined by great flurries of discharging energies, from storm patterns higher up. A heavy wind blasted this way and that, howling and shrieking. Abaddon, just another name for Hell.

The jungle was all around us, unfamiliar plants a good ten, twelve, fourteen feet high in places. The colors were harsh and gaudy, primal and overpowering, clashing blatantly with one another in patterns that made no sense, in a manner openly upsetting and even disturbing to human aesthetics. There were things like trees, with dark purple trunks and massive spiked branches, weighed down with masses of serrated puke-yellow leaves. All of them bending and bowing at impossible angles, as though they wanted to slam their tall heads down on us. And all around them, every variation or type of plant you ever saw in your worst nightmares. Thrashing and flailing with endless hate and vitality, whipping long, barbed flails through the air, pushing and pressing forward as though they couldn’t wait to get at us.

They’d seemed restless enough on the viewscreen, but once we appeared on the landing pad, they all went crazy, absolutely insane with rage and bloodlust. Every living thing strained toward us, churning and boiling like attack dogs let off the leash. I actually saw some of them rip their own roots up out of the dark wet earth and lurch forward on roots curled like claws. There were huge flowers with mouths full of grinding teeth, wild with eagerness to drag us down. Seedpods hurtled through the air to explode among us like grenades, razor-edged seeds clattering harmlessly against our armor.

It was as though the whole jungle was coming at us at once, struggling against one another in a vicious urge to get to us, with no sense of self-preservation at all. We stood together in our squads, taking it all in.

“There aren’t any animals,” said Three. “It’s all . . . plants. But plants aren’t supposed to act like this!”

“The Captain was right,” said Seven. “The whole world hates us. How refreshingly honest.”

“We are definitely not welcome here,” said Four. “You think this world knows we’re here to terraform it?”

“Don’t anthropomorphize,” said One. “Just deal with what’s in front of you.”

“We have to get to Base Three,” I said. “Power up all weapon systems. Remember your training. And try not to shoot me in the back.”

Well done, Paul,
said my AI.
Take charge. You’ll get through this okay. Paul? I wish you’d talk to me, Paul.

We strode forward, off the landing pad and into the jungle, and opened up with everything we had. I had an energy weapon built into my left hand. I fired it, and a huge mass of seething vegetation just disappeared. Good weapon, very effective, but it took two minutes to recharge between shots. My right hand held a projectile weapon, firing explosive flechettes. I moved my hand back and forth, cutting through all the plants in front of me like an invisible scythe. But my armor only held so much ammunition. So I used both weapons to open up a trail, and then stepped forward into it and kept going.

Nine was right there beside me. He had a flamethrower working, burning the thrashing plants right back to the ground. Two moved in on my other side. He had a grenade launcher. Lots of noise and black smoke, and bits of dead plant flew through the air. We worked well together, opening up a wide path before us. My armor was locked onto Base Three’s beacon, and all I had to do was head straight for it.

We all felt the shock as the
Duchess of Malfi
took off, throwing itself back up into the sky again, but none of us could spare the time to watch it go. We had to keep all our concentration on the plants trying so hard to kill us. They pressed in from every side, clawing and scraping and hammering at our armor, searching for weak spots, for a way in. The various fires we started never seemed to last long, and for every plant we killed, there were always more pressing forward to take their place. The jungle had already closed in behind us, cutting us off from the landing pads.

We moved slowly, steadily forward, all twelve of us together, an oasis of calm rational thought in a sea of violence, heading for Base Three. I’d tried contacting them on the open channel, but there was no reply. I remembered the Captain’s voice, telling how Base Two had been found wide open and deserted. . . . But I couldn’t think about that. Not when there were still so many plants to kill. With my ammunition reserves already running low, I had no choice but to shut down my guns and fall back on the amazing strength built into my armor. I grabbed striking plants with my steel hands, tore them apart as though they were made of paper, and threw them aside. Some twisted around my hands as I held them, still trying to get at me. A long, bristling creeper wrapped itself around my arm, constricting furiously, but I tore it loose with one easy gesture, crushing it in my hand. Thick and bloody pulp spurted through my fingers. It couldn’t touch me. Nothing could touch me. And it felt good, so good, to be able to strike out at a world that so openly hated us.