The Reef (5 page)

As the evening progressed Manolin drank more. He had bought the whole bottle of whisky so that he didn’t have to move. For many minutes he stared at the cream label, the old style lettering. The noise of the crowd began to gather in his head, amplifying, aching. His eyes felt hot and his head heavy on his neck. His eyes focus sed on the whiskey as he threw back another glass. The liquid fired his taste buds, sending a flash of alertness to his eyes. It took him away from the noise. Breathing became difficult. He tapped his chest with the ball of his palm.

Yana nudged Santiago, whispered in Santiago’s ears, and he nodded. She felt sorry for Manolin. She had spoken aloud that his wife would ruin him, but even she would be surprised how rapidly this was happening. Yana cared for him. Probably in the absence of any attention from her husband, and in the avoidance of Santiago’s lechery, she found comfort talking to Manolin. She’d told him that he was sensible, articulate, well mannered. He was, she would admit, cute, but that was hardly a word to feel guilty about. It helped to have someone like that around, especially given his situation.

Manolin felt eyes on his head, something typical of a heavy drinker. He looked up from his warm, liquid escape. He slid back his chair and slumped forward on the table. He stood up, pulling everyone’s eyes with him. Santiago raised his head. Manolin walked to the door of the tavern, reaching out to hold on to chairs as he went. Cats leapt out of his path.

‘Please, excuse me for a moment,’ Santiago said, and followed Manolin.

Manolin burst out into the cold. The freshness hit him in the face. It was night and the sky had been washed by heavy rain. He inhaled deeply, walked towards a metal railing that separated the dock from the water. He found it difficult to walk on the cobbles and could hear his footsteps. Clutching the rail, he vomited over the side, spitting lumps and shapes into the black water. He coughed several times, rolled saliva around his mouth.

Street lamps lit the underside of the clouds, creating a dirty amber glow that illuminated the boats and the cobbled stones shone where they had been worn.

Manolin burst into tears.

‘For Arrahd’s sake, man. Pull yourself together.’ Santiago gripped Manolin, pulled him close. Manolin put his head on his shoulder. He shook.

Santiago said, ‘She did it again, didn’t she?’

Manolin nodded into Santiago’s jacket. Santiago hugged him so tight that it almost knocked off his hat. He nodded to himself, because he thought that it was difficult for a man to admit such a thing. Manolin had talked to Santiago about what his wife did. It was shameful for a man to strike a woman, but what happened when a woman struck a man? If the man was a gentleman, he would not strike back. He ought not to be a punch bag. Manolin did everything for her. He bought her presents, had never looked at another woman, when he was with her. He thought he was courteous, gentle, kind-qualities that did attract attention, but it was not his fault. He loved her dearly, dismissed her attacks as mere intimacy. It was accepted that beating a woman was wrong, but no Minister had felt it worthwhile protecting the male of the species from attack. Once, she had drawn a knife when he told her of a girl, a year younger than herself, who had a crush on him. He thought it an honest and open jest, but she had other ideas. Later that evening, he knew that she had gone out to show him that she, too, could possess attention.

A flock of white and black geese streamed by overhead heading south in a large V-formation. They were illuminated by the gas lamps. They cackled as they flew in low, swirling up over the three or four storey buildings. Manolin heard their voices fading and echoing down the bay.

Behind the two men, the tavern door opened and with the loudness of laughter and voices, Jefry ran out with someone else. The human and rumel seemed to Santiago to be eager, hastening across the cobbles. Manolin shook himself away. He didn’t want a fuss made.

‘Sorry to disturb, San.’ He was almost out of breath. ‘We’ve got some news.’

‘News? What news, Guano?’ Santiago said.

‘Two species, unidentified, washed up last night, twenty miles south. Apparently, we’re requested first thing in the morning, at the Temple, the Mayor’s office. They wouldn’t let me look, but they were under observation from the government’s men.’

Santiago frowned and scratched his chin, propping that arm up at the elbow with his other hand. ‘Alien species indeed? I wonder what they are?’

‘They wouldn’t show me. The officials will only allow you to see them. Apparently they don’t trust anyone else as they want this kept away from the press-as if I’d fucking tell anyone. But, they seem really worried.’ Guano shifted his weight from heel to heel.

Santiago smiled and paused to think before. He raised both his arms like a conductor, before patting his team on the back, steering them towards the tavern.

‘Let’s drink tonight and worry about these creatures tomorrow.’

Manolin watched them walking back towards the warmth and the light. He lingered, wondering what these new beings were. He turned to face the sea.

Santiago’s voice could be heard just before he re-entered the tavern. ‘Or, we could go and find out later tonight. The night, after all, is still young.’

Manolin looked down as a cat rubbed his leg then moved away. The creature stepped from cobble to cobble, avoiding puddles, looking up all the time to where the geese went.

Four

‘…of the basic silicate tetrahedral structure, with varying degrees of feldspar and mica. These extrusive rock formations, as they stand, are composed of the typical minerals, but can be grouped into two major, separate compositions: Eschan Bed Sediments and the Pergamos Formation
(Tyaris et al,
1603). The extinct volcanic island chain, that extends north from the non-volcanic island of Arya are Daleth, Gimel, and Samekh. Only Samekh retains this unique geological formation, possessing discrete boundaries to the surrounding country rock that contains large amounts of iron and magnesium, typical of any magma.

My other chief concern is the coral rock linked to these islands. The coral seems to move daily, with no reason as to a particular occurrence. The main frame in one particular region, expands outwards like a limb from the main coral system, which is nearest to Arya. This calcified rock gradually shifts as if the very world itself moves. I had not the ability to decipher its chemical composition. It must wait until another trip.’

Prof. Victyr Lewys (1694),
Geological Concerns of Tropical Islands.
Department of Geology, Al Terril Institute, Escha.

Five

Jella woke early as musky sunlight filled the room. Lula stirred, the girl’s mouth open slightly revealing her tongue. Jella smiled, pushed Lula’s jaw up to close her mouth. A few strands of long, black hair fell over her tanned face.

‘You’ll catch flies,’ Jella whispered, still pushing the hairs back over Lula’s ears.’

I’ll shoot them from the sky first,’ Lula said with her thick east coast accent.

‘I believe you,’ Jella said, smiling. She believed that Lula was one of the most proficient women with a musket she’d ever seen.

Lula’s father had fought in wars, and settled in a small fishing village south of Rhoam, bringing Lula up on their own That was long before the couple had met.

The story always made her smile. Jella had stolen a horse from a rich-looking merchant who sold his wares through the shanty city outside of Rhoam. Jella had jumped on the steed, galloped into the desert scrubland south, in the direction the dead city of Lucher, her old home. She had ridden for miles through sparse surroundings, dazed in the streaming light from which there was no shelter. She dragged up dust, entered even more barren regions, until out of the corner of her eye she saw the sea. It was a bold blue that stood out from the land and sky. She rode towards it, having not seen if for years. Like greeting an old friend, she felt an awkwardness then rapid ease. She sat on the horse staring at it. She watched the waves, took pleasure from hearing the water hit the cliffs.

Eventually, those cliffs began to form a long shadow over the sea. Jella turned the horse along the coast, always remembering the pair of pterodettes that were flying together that evening. She was hypnotised, watching the green reptiles in unison and she jumped down off of the horse. She was still watching them glide in and out of circles, with their vein filled wings out wide, when she heard someone crying.

She turned on the spot, her feet drawing up red dust that blew inland. Walking towards the cliff edge and down several steps that had been carved into the rock, she came across a girl. She was hunched, shivering. Naked, so that her skin looked the same colour as the rock.

Jella walked down. ‘Hello,’ she said above the sound of the tide. ‘You okay? Why’re you crying?’

The girl looked up. Black hair fell back away from a pretty face. Delicate, with strong cheekbones. A handsomeness that came from within. Her eyes dazzled even at a distance. ‘My father’s run off with a new woman. He left me alone.’

Jella reached a hand down, offered it to the hunched girl, who looked straight up, full of confusion.

The rumel said, ‘Where’re your clothes?’

‘What use are they right now?’

Jella nodded as if she knew what that meant.

The girl took Jella’s hand and the rumel watched the slim figure rise. She was most definitely a woman, not a girl. The sea hit the cliff hard, they felt the vibrations. Jella took off her white shirt and placed it around the girl, who strained to get both arms within with the wind being so strong. They were both half naked. Jella’s tough grey skin looked so different to the soft, brown of the human. They were uncertain of what to do or where to go. Both being lost in different ways, they stood together. It was only moments until they found each other’s touch both desirable and comforting.

Jella held the girl. The exchanged names, then glances. The rumel drew her finger along the delicate jaw line, up to the forehead, pushing strands of hair from out of her eyes.

They rode back to Rhoam, where they would spend every moment together. When they made love, it seemed that there was no outside world.

‘Will you love me?’ Lula had said. She asked the question a lot.

Jella said, ‘Of course I will.’

‘Men and women have said this to me before. They all leave and forget what words mean. Sticking your tongue inside of me isn’t enough.’

‘I’ll love you. I’ll show you what it means.’

Jella did not care much for words, and although they felt awkward on her lips, those were ones she intended to stick by. And Jella needed Lula. The girl had softened her heart, made her feel something after such a long bitterness inside. One of the few things about her past that Jella wanted to remember was her father and the way he held her, looked at her, and Lula gave her exactly the same sensation. Lula was quiet, contemplative, and it was her gentle actions that soothed Jella, and the girl’s presence was at times better than any drug. Lula thrived on taking Jella on walks, for meals when they had stolen enough money, brought her flowers. Lula was the romance that she needed.

* * *

‘D’you get much money last night?’ Lula asked.

‘Yeah, Menz and Yayle have it. We’ve more than enough money now. We can stop tricking rich, gullible men,’ Jella said.

‘Good, now we can get on with it.’

‘Yes,
now
we can. We should set off soon.’

Jella rose from the bed. There were few comforts within the metal hut, but Jella and Lula had tried to make it their own. Lula hung green drapes, burned incense day and night. They had managed to find wooden cupboards and a table. Jella thought the place much better than most were outside of the city. They could, with the blackmail money, afford better, but it was a matter of principal that they remained with their own kind.

She stood up, naked, and stretched, her grey skin taut over her muscles. Lula opened an eye to watch. The rumel’s tail swung in order to wake up fully and Lula’s eyes followed the tail left and right before it settled. Lula yawned.

‘I’ve got to go to the City Library soon,’ Jella said.

‘More research?’

‘More research?’

‘What’re you looking for now? I thought you’d planned every detail?’ Lula asked. Her accent made her words sound lazy.

‘I do, I do. But there’s no harm in being certain, is there? It’s fine to know what’s there, but I need to make sure we’re doing everything by the book.’

‘You’re like what you’ve told me of your father. You’re such a control freak,’ Lula said. Then, ‘But sometimes I’m glad of your attention to detail.’

Both girls laughed. Jella walked to a cupboard, her muscles moved visibly. Her white hair swayed down her back, a contrast to her darker body. She opened the cupboard, thought of an outfit to wear, then put on a black gypsy skirt and a shirt.

‘It suits you. I think I like what you’re wearing,’ Lula said. She turned, ruffled the sheets, pushed the side of her face further into the pillow.

‘What? Don’t you like this?’ ‘Of course I do. I think you look sophisticated,’ she said to the wall. Jella looked at the body of the girl in her bed. The sheet had fallen back and the curve of Lula’s brown back could be seen. She stopped the urges that were building within. She had work to do.