The Devil in Green (14 page)

'His legs are a bit shaky, but don't go underestimating him. He's sharp
as a pin,' Gardener said.

'What are the others like?' Mallory's attention was fixed on Stefan.

Daniels pointed with a carrot impaled on his knife. 'Stefan's a bit of a
cold fish. He used to be some businessman up in Manchester before he
saw the light, I think. Julian's OK. A bit too quiet for me, thoughtful, you
know, but he's got a very liberal view of life. He wasn't involved in the
Church before the Fall, but they promoted him out of nowhere because
he's brilliant, or so they say. Very learned about philosophy, comparative
religion. I don't know if he was an academic, but he's a sharp guy,
definitely.'

Cornelius made his way to a table not too far from the door, which was
hastily vacated for him. His attendants lowered him into a chair while
Stefan brought over a plate of food that he proffered with a formal bow.

'This is a show,' Mallory said quietly. 'A little spin-doctoring. To let the
common man know the bishop is just an ordinary joe. He's not larging it in
the palace. He can eat vegetable mush with the rest of the suckers.'

'Be respectful,' Miller hissed.

Mallory began to mop up his gravy with his bread while gently
fantasising about pizza.

'And that is Gibson,' Daniels said, pointing to the last imposing figure in
the group. He must have been twenty-five stone, with a comically jolly face
that appeared to be permanently on the point of a guffaw. His cheeks
were bright red, his hair tight grey curls; large silver-framed spectacles
surrounded eyes fixed in a humorous squint.

'Don't tell me,' Mallory said, 'he's the Canon of the Pies.'

'The treasurer, actually. Looks after all the ornaments, vestments and
gold plate tucked away in the vaults.' Daniels smiled as he ate. 'But he does
oversee the kitchens as well.'

'So we're in their hands.' Mallory didn't attempt to hide his dismissive-
ness.

'Them and their advisors,' Gardener said gruffly. 'There's a whole
bunch of arse-kissers following them around, whispering in their ears.
Keeping them informed, supposedly, because the top dogs don't have
time to spend finding out what the rest of us are thinking. But the arse-
kissers are guiding them, really. They're the power behind the throne.'

Daniels snorted. 'Oh, not that routine again! You're only upset because
they're not whispering about you.'

'It's true. You've got to watch out who you're talking to round here.
Everybody's got some sort of thing going on.'

'Thing?'
Daniels shook his head and sighed.

'Come on, you know it's true,' Gardener said. 'This whole place is split
down the middle. The modernisers think we should build on the state
the Church had reached just before the change, make it acceptable to
modern thinking. The traditionalists want a hardline approach. Everybody's plotting.'

'Well, as much as I'm enjoying your comedy double-act,' Mallory said,
'I don't think I can stare at these vegetables any more without gnawing on
my own arm.'

'You should eat it up,' Gardener said, cleaning up the last of the gravy
on his plate. 'You'll be desperate for it tomorrow when Blaine's got you
scrambling over that assault course.'

'It's not as if you've got anywhere to go,' Daniels said. 'It's compline
next, or had you forgotten? You'll soon get used to realising you have no
time of your own.'

Mallory rocked back in his chair. 'You know, this place is just too much
fun.'

Despite Mallory's disgruntlement, the atmosphere in the cathedral was
deeply affecting. Outside, dusk had fallen, the darkness licking over a
chilly landscape freed from electric lights. Inside, the stone walls basked in
an ethereal golden glow from hundreds of candles. Incense and tallow
smoke cocooned the worshippers who stood shoulder to shoulder along
the nave and the quire. The plainsong rose up, filling the vast vault with a
mesmerising, heady sound that reached deep into Mallory, tugging at
emotions he barely thought he still had. It was a single voice made by
hundreds of people, simple and pure yet powerful on so many levels.
Mallory glanced over at Miller to see tears streaming down his cheeks.

Briefly, Mallory felt a sense of belonging that put all the unpleasantness
of his past life into the shade. Perhaps there still was a chance for him: a
fresh start, although he'd long ago given up that childlike whimsy of
believing that some Higher Power took enough of an interest in the ants
that swarmed the earth to give them a second chance. The fleeting hope,
that weak thing he thought he'd scoured from his system, was a simple by-product of the perfect confluence of music and moment, he told himself.
But still, it tugged at him.

He was examining the odd thoughts pulled from him by the intensity of
faith when his concentration was broken by a figure he could just glimpse
on the edge of die congregation, slightly ahead of him and away to the left.
His face was obscured by his black cowl pulled far forwards, unusual in
itself as everyone else there went bare-headed. But there was no other
reason why Mallory's attention should be drawn to him so powerfully that
he couldn't look away. The figure was still, his shoulders slightly hunched.
He didn't appear to be singing, merely watching or perhaps listening, deep
in thought.

Mallory couldn't understand why the figure made him feel uneasy, or
why the tingling tiiat had started in the small of his back was slowly
spreading up his spine. Some deeply buried part of him was trying to
break out of his subconscious to issue a warning.

As he watched for some sign that would give him an explanation for his
reaction, the figure began to turn towards him, as if he sensed Mallory's
eyes upon him. Inexplicably, this filled Mallory with dread. He didn't want
to see the face inside that cowl.

He looked down at his hands, then up towards the altar, and when he
did finally glance back, the figure was gone.

Outside in the night, Mallory tugged Miller away from the uplifted
worshippers streaming back to their huts for a few hours' grace before
the whole round started again. He found a shadowed spot next to the
cathedral walls and said, 'Let's hit the town. We can dump our uniforms
and explore. There's got to be some life out there. Maybe we'll find
someone who'll take pity on us and buy us a beer.' He knew his bravado
was a response to the sobering but stupid fear he had felt in the service.

'Are you crazy? You heard what they said - being caught without the
uniform—'

'We're not going to get caught.'

'—is a punishable offence. And we're not supposed to go out of the
compound after curfew. I don't even know if we're supposed to go out
there at all.'

'I told you, we're not going to get caught. Who's to know? Don't you
want to find out what your new neighbours are like?'

Miller protested fulsomely, clearly afraid of jeopardising everything he
felt he'd gained, but Mallory chipped away at him on the way back to their
quarters so that by the time they arrived, Miller reluctantly agreed to the
secret foray.

Daniels and Gardener still hadn't returned, so they quickly changed into
their street clothes and slipped out. 'How are we going to get away?' Miller
hissed as they flitted from hut to hut.