Tantrics Of Old (13 page)

His gaze fell on a series of burnt, black frames on a wall. They had once held photographs, or paintings perhaps. Gray started clearing away the bits of brick and rubble near the base of the wall, poking around in the ash until he found what he was looking for—an edge of a photograph, freed as the rest of it burnt. A mere corner it was, the edges of a side burnt. Gray looked at it for a long time before stowing it away in his shirt pocket. He stood up then, dusting his hands, and raising his camera, took a picture of the wall.

Seeing a closed door opposite the wall, Gray opened it. He froze. He could see stairs leading down to what must be a basement. He didn’t think Adri had checked the basement in his hurry; he couldn’t have checked both upstairs and downstairs in that short a while. He looked down at the darkness. Gray hated darkness.

He would wait for Adri’s return, he decided, upon which he would present Adri with knowledge of the basement’s existence. Yes, wait for Adri while Victor Sen might just be bleeding to death down there. He cursed softly. Maya was too tired to be woken up right then; he was sure she wouldn’t even hear him call. Or scream for help from the basement. He cursed again. His imagination wasn’t helping him; but something had to be done. Gray walked to the front of the house and surveyed the long road. Adri was nowhere to be seen, doubtlessly still questioning people. He sighed and walked to the kitchen where his backpack was.

A beam of light pierced the darkness of the basement. Gray played the light around a bit, but all he could see were the wooden steps. The fire clearly hadn’t reached the basement. He tried to dismiss all the scary basement stories from his mind—it was afternoon, for heaven’s sake. He took the first step. The wooden floorboard creaked loudly with a slow drawl to it, and Gray froze again, waiting a full minute before he took the next step. He nervously flicked the light everywhere as he descended—the basement seemed to be fairly large, and his beam of light fell on shelves of what seemed to be books. Gray checked out the walls and the corners of the basement, but shelves blocked his view. He took time to descend, listening for any sound at all, but the basement was dead silent. It didn’t help matters.

‘Mr Sen?’ he called out nervously. ‘Victor Sen? Are you in here?’ He kept descending, finally reaching the bottom. He didn’t move, and chose to stay next to the stairs, calling out into the darkness, slowly moving his light around the room.

‘Your son is here, Mr Sen,’ Gray called further. ‘Hello?’

Something moved rapidly near him. Instinctively, Gray moved the light and caught a glimpse of what seemed to be human skin—before a shelf collapsed with a deafening noise.

‘Aaaah!’ Gray screamed and sped up the stairs, dropping the torch.

‘You will die!’ a voice screamed after him.

Gray almost tripped once, but made it to the door, which he slammed shut behind him and slid the lock in place. Then he lay against the door, panting, but not for long. His uneasiness forced him to move away from that room, and into the library where Maya still slept. He was sure he hadn’t imagined the voice; it had been a male voice, rather strained. Perhaps it was Victor Sen himself, somehow holding him responsible for the destruction of the house. Who knew? All he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going back there. He would wait for Adri.

It was hours before Adri returned. His enquiries had been unsuccessful, difficult. No one had seen anything; they could tell him that it had happened about two days ago, and that was it. No one knew where his father was, no one had seen him during or after the fire. He was thinking about his next move as he made his way through the kitchen—plonking the packets of packed food he had brought on the kitchen counter—into the main hall, at the end of which was the ruined library. It was here that he found the other two, Maya still fast asleep, and Gray looking visibly shaken. Something had happened.

‘Adri, there’s someone in the basement,’ Gray told him as soon as he entered.

‘Basement? What do you mean,
basement
?’

‘There’s someone in there. Might be your dad, I don’t know.’

Adri reached for his shooter. Opening it, he shook out the mercury rounds onto his palm, then groped in his bag until he found bright blue rounds, with which he loaded the weapon.

‘What bullets are those?’ Gray asked.

‘Take me to the basement,’ Adri replied.

Gray led Adri to the room with the frames and pointed to the door in the wall.

Adri stared at it. He walked over, touched the edges of the wall and felt the burnt plaster there. ‘This door was covered by a layer,’ he spoke, almost to himself. Then he turned to Gray. ‘I never knew it was here.’ Without waiting for a reply, he opened the door almost angrily and walked down the steps, shooter in hand. Gray stared after him, but didn’t follow.

Adri reached the bottom and looked around in the total darkness. He shut his eyes and sensed magic. Basic magic, near what seemed to be the far wall. A torch. The artefact powering it still had juice. Good.

‘Ignite,’ he spoke in the Old Tongue, and the torch burst into flames. It took Adri a moment to adjust to the light, and he stared at what he saw. A man stood metres away from him, holding a torch in both hands, looking at him nervously. He was old and short, and hunched prominently as he looked at Adri. He was bald, but had a huge, unkempt grey beard. He wore rags. An old, moody buzzard with a beard. He was not Adri’s father.

‘You will die as well!’ he spoke in a voice cracked with age. He spoke suddenly; it was more like an outburst, catching Adri off guard. Adri lowered his weapon. ‘Who are you?’

The old man’s eyes shifted rapidly as he nervously contemplated his answer. When he spoke, it was again all of a sudden. ‘It does not matter.’

Adri’s eyes burned with Second Sight. This just seemed to be a harmless old man, he had no other form and Adri could sense no magic from him. The only thing radiating magic in the room was the burning torch on the wall. Adri could see now that it was on a wall mount and had been used before, and there were other torches mounted as well, the magic in them dried up.

‘What are you doing in Victor Sen’s house?’ Adri asked, a bit more forcefully.

‘You do not understand. You do not. What is your name?’

Adri paused before he replied. ‘Adri.’

The old man’s eyes flickered around the room, straying occasionally to the steps where Gray was making his way down.

‘Who in the seven hells is this?’ Gray asked, and was immediately cut off by the old man.

‘Nine, son. Nine hells. Don’t get it wrong. You should know. You’re going there.’ He spoke with a crazy fervour, occasionally pausing and catching up in his speaking, always maintaining the bursts of exclamation. ‘Look, Adri. Look. You cannot possibly know. So yes. So no.’

‘He’s not, er, he’s not mentally . . . stable,’ Gray whispered to Adri.

‘Evidently mad,’ Adri simplified. ‘But he might know something.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Gray agreed. ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

‘What don’t I know?’ Adri asked the old man loudly.

The two parties were still keeping their distance. The old man hadn’t moved from his place. He still didn’t move as he spoke.

‘The end. No one knows about the end. But I do. And I know where you will be.’

‘Where?’

‘One of the hells. And hell will be right here in the Old City.’ The old man’s eyes were wide, frantic, as he spoke.

‘Okay, I got his number,’ Gray whispered. ‘Another Doomsday prophet.’

‘Inevitable, like the great truth. You must believe me,’ the old man ranted.

‘Oh we do,’ Adri replied softly. ‘But come on up, old one. Eat and drink.’

‘But the end?’

‘Surely the end will let you have a good last meal? Come on.’

The old man looked unsure for a while, his eyes flitting between Adri and Gray with dizzying speed. Then his posture slumped, his shoulders sagged. ‘I’m hungry, I am,’ he spoke.

Adri and Gray led him up the stairs. The old man did not react at all on seeing the half-destroyed house. Not a word, not a look. He simply followed Adri into the kitchen and when Adri, after rummaging through the food packet, handed him a paper plate with
luchi–torkari
, he took it wordlessly and sat down in a corner. Adri sat in the opposite corner and took out his packet of cigarettes, leaning against the wall.

That the old man was hungry was evident from the way he wolfed down the meal. Adri lit a cigarette and watched him eat. ‘What’s your name?’ Adri asked after a while, as simple a question as any.

‘Vishwak,’ came the reply through a mouth full of food.

‘Vishwak. So you like the food, Vishwak?’

The old man continued eating, and then he nodded.

‘Good,’ Adri said. ‘Eat well, there’s more if you want.’

But Vishwak did not want any more, and after he finished, he continued sitting in the corner, refusing any more food.

Adri leaned forward. ‘Vishwak, tell me what happened to this house?’

‘It is only a warning, like the Goshtias got before their life soul was scattered. The end comes, and it comes fast. We all have our time, but now there is not much left! Listen to me, son. You are young. If you have things to do then do them, we do not have much time.’

Adri leaned back again and did not waste his breath. There was no point. Vishwak was crazy, and there was clearly nothing to be had from him, except for his visions of doom. No, he would have to wait for darkness. He looked outside through a partially collapsed wall; the sun was slowly setting. Not long now before he could find out more, hopefully.

Gray walked in. ‘Anything?’ he asked Adri.

Adri shook his head.

‘Thought so,’ Gray said.

‘Maya still asleep?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay. I got us some food, feel free to eat, you’ll need your strength.’

Gray nodded. ‘What’s our plan then?’

‘If nothing changes then we stay here overnight, and tomorrow we move further into the city.’

Gray looked inside the packet and starting arranging food on his paper plate. ‘Does the Old City have no transport except walking?’

‘There are trams, but that’s near the heart of the city.’

Gray paused. ‘Oh wait, Adri, I found something. Wanted to give it to you.’ He reached into his shirt pocket, walked over to Adri, and handed him the photo fragment. Adri took it and looked at it with interest. A photograph of him—he was a young child, not more than ten to twelve years of age. There he stood in the faded photograph, looking expressionlessly at the camera, dressed in neat white, obviously for some occasion he couldn’t remember. There was a hand on his shoulder; firm and confident—the sleeve led up to nothing but a burnt edge. Irony. Complete and utter irony. He got up and left the kitchen, intending to finish the meal in the library.

Gray looked up, and then followed him, carefully balancing the food on his plate. Vishwak had not moved. He leaned against the wall as before, his eyes now shut.

Adri paced through the dead house like a spirit, waiting for the sun to leave. Thoughts rushed to him as he looked at the house, and the realisation that it had been wilfully destroyed sank in, only deeper than before.

You were once a complete house, protected by strong magic. What happened here? You had my father, you protected him; and in the end you failed. Where is he? I am here now, I, his son. If he is dead then I am the owner of this ruination. And I command you to tell me what went on here inside your walls. Tell me why doors were hidden from me, tell me what secrets you kept for my father. And tell me the story of your end
.

Adri wanted to know, and this thirst was making him impatient. The sun was still visible over the horizon, cruel and unmoving—the house remained silent. Adri went down to the basement again in his agitation. The torch was still burning. He looked at the rows of books on the shelves; and he opened one in the dim, dancing light.

Maya woke up to the sound of violin. It was rather cruel and imperfect, the music, but she could tell where Gray was getting better. He did practice rather earnestly when he did, and that alone stopped her from telling him to quit. One thing Gray had was dedication.

She opened her eyes and saw a mounted torch burning on the wall. She yawned and stretched and her stomach sent her panic signals of hunger. Gray sat a few feet away from her, his entire attention focused on the violin.

‘Gray!’ she called. Gray stopped.

‘Food’s in the kitchen,’ he said before he started playing again.

Maya took a bottle of water out of her bag and got up. Her knees felt shaky, she hadn’t eaten in a long time now. She walked out into the dark corridor, the music following her. Striding outside the house, she washed up, blinking away the drops of water as she made her way back in. It was evening already and her eyes took time to get used to the darkness and the dead silence—apart from the screechy violin in motion. She took whatever food was left for her—there was enough of it—and she carried it outside, where she looked at the surroundings as she ate.

A certain cold was in the air, and lights were burning away in other windows. The lights flickered and she guessed the source was fire. The violin’s notes crept out and gave her a constant feeling of unease; luckily the mistakes Gray kept making frequently snapped her out of these phases. She stood at the foot of the dark water of a pond, looking at the long road leading away from the house. Behind the house there was nothing but untended land for what seemed to be kilometres together; it looked like a swamp, the weeds growing taller than her. Beyond the patch of land she could see other buildings, but they were quite far away, shimmering in the evening air like illusions. No, there was certainly only one viable entry and exit to this place. Sigh. She didn’t like the way their little adventure was going so far; Adri was beginning to gain her sympathy, and that, of course, did not help her future plans. Where was Adri anyway? Probably still away. Gray would know.