The Grigori: Stalking Tender Prey Part 45

Aninka risked a laugh. Sounds familiar! Such has ever been our downfall, if we are to believe all the old stories!'

Lahash nodded. True. Ninka, you must know about the two factions in our society.'

Factions?' She wasn't sure.

Lahash nodded. They both want to find a way back to the source, to the One, but they have different methods. Many bloodlines believe we should try to emulate the ways of the Anannage, so that they will reveal themselves to us once more, and give back to us the knowledge of our ancestors. The others believe we should further our own knowledge to reopen the old stargate. My family belonged to the latter faction.'

I see,' Aninka said cautiously. She felt she belonged to neither faction. It all sounded very paranoid to her, similar to the conspiracy theories that many humans were so fond of inventing.

Lahash sighed. Well, when Kashday met Helen, we had no idea what a viper he was bringing into our nest. She was bright, too intelligent to be a dependant. Pretty soon, she guessed many of our so-called secrets, what really went on in the workrooms beneath the house, and other information she must have bullied out of Kashday. She wanted to become the Eye Priestess, the oracle. Kashday was foolish enough to believe she could be the gateway, the one who would open the closed thoroughfare to the Source.'

Aninka couldn't help expressing her surprise. But that's just a legend, surely! They didn't really believe they could accomplish it.'

Lahash shook his head. Ninka, the majority of our people are kept in ignorance. There is more truth in the old stories than you know. A perpetual flame burned in this place, but it was diminishing. We could draw sustenance from it, but we could not pa.s.s through it and use it as a gateway. Neither could we draw energies from the stars back through it to this world. Kashday persuaded the family to allow him to use Helen as Priestess for the fire festival at the Corn-Cutting. Lammas. It took some doing, but eventually he wore down all the arguments. Claimed he knew what he was doing. I think he did, but Helen was no Ishtahar. When she went into the flame, the gate opened, yes, but it incurred only the wrath of the elders. Something came through. The Parzupheim were alerted and sent out the Kerubim to attack us. We had no choice but to scatter. Most of us were killed, and the survivors were taken into confinement. It was terrible, a real mess.'

Aninka regarded him thoughtfully. Half of her didn't want to believe what he'd said, yet he spoke with such simple sincerity. Lahash did not seem like Enniel and other power holding Grigori she had met, tight with secrecy and veiled insinuations. Lahash said little, but when he did speak, his words made sense.

You are looking at me as if I'm mad,' Lahash said. Do you think I'm making this up?'

Aninka shook her head. No, of course not. But it just seems so... incredible. What happened to this woman, Helen? Was she killed?'

Lahash shrugged. I don't know. That is, she survived Lammas night, but having once entered the flame, I wonder how much longer she could have carried on living a normal life afterwards. Anyway, it's irrelevant. She was human, and her knowledge was limited. Kashday and Helen were hung up on the old stories, the romance of them. They must have seen themselves as Shemyaza and Ishtahar, and believed their communion possessed the same power. The instinct to re-enact such a cycle must be strong in our family's genetic blueprint. Kashday and Helen's love for one another ruined them both, ruined the family and the lives of many villagers down there, too.'

And Peverel Othman arrives at the site of this devastation,' Aninka said quietly. What a coincidence!'

It's obvious Othman has sniffed out the residue of the flame here, and is attempting to resurrect it. We left guardians, and quenched the flame as best we could, but now...?' Lahash looked around himself. You can feel it, can't you? A pressure of impending power.'

Aninka shuddered in the oppressive heat. That's an amazing story, Lahash.'

He smiled. Well, what I've told you is very condensed. There was more to it than that.'

One day, I would like to hear it all.'

His smile widened into a pleased grin. Then one day, I will tell you, but it would take some time.'

Aninka reached out and briefly touched one of his hands. Let's hope we have it, then.'

He stood up. We will.' He lifted the binoculars to his face once more, his voice distant, as if sucked away from them, down the hill to the village and the silent, looming house of his exiled family. We will go a restaurant together, and we will drink expensive wine and enjoy good food, and I shall tell you all my stories.'

And afterwards?' Aninka asked.

He laughed. I'd have thought you'd had enough of Anakim to last you a lifetime.'

You are not Anakim,' Aninka said.

Lahash turned to look at her, the binoculars held at his chest. Your guardian may not approve of your plans.'

I'll tell him I want to hire you as a bodyguard.' She affected a dramatic posture. I've been through so much. I'm afraid of being alone now.'

Lahash shook his head. still grinning, before resuming his inspection of the surrounding countryside. She knew she had pleased him.

Lily stood in the hall of Long Eden, looking around herself in wonder and fear. I am inside, at last. I am really inside. The house seemed removed from reality, utterly still and silent, permeated only by a dingy light which leaked through the murky greens and golds of the stained gla.s.s window over the stairs. There was a sweet, musty smell of age, common to old houses, mixed with a faint mushroom tang of dry rot. It was hard to imagine anyone having ever lived there. Raven stood patiently as Lily walked around touching the panelling on the walls, gazing up at the great metal chandeliers high overhead. Her footsteps echoed, even though she was only wearing rubber-soled pumps on her feet. She felt as if time was hanging suspended in the dusty air. What was she supposed to do? Just look around? There seemed no message for her there; no sense of welcome, or even of attention. If the house watched her, it did so covertly.

Raven said nothing, and when she addressed questions to him, he remained silent, as if he'd said all he was ever going to say to her. She did not like looking at him directly, because his appearance was too unearthly. Gazing at him would only force her to admit that the world she had inhabited since childhood was a fragile, friable thing. Monsters could walk out of the shadows at any time to alter perceptions for ever.

How could I have been so unaware of all this? Lily wondered, her fingers running over an intricate carving, sticky with old wax. It has always been part of me. Why couldn't I feel it? She peered at the carved pictures on the panelling, saw men and women with wings and fringed robes marching sideways towards a spoked globe. She touched the globe lightly. They entered here. They entered into it... She wished she knew the meaning of her thoughts.

Something moved at the back of the hall. Lily thought she saw a brief flash of muted white in the shadows. An echo of female laughter moved the air, set the chandelier swaying overhead. Now the house had flexed its bones, woken up. It would present its ghosts to her.

Mum?' Lily moved towards the shadows, thinking she should be afraid, but feeling only curious and, in a way, impatient.

A corridor at the rear of the hall led off to the left. Lily cautiously peered around the corner, conscious of Raven still standing motionless nearby. The corridor appeared lit by a subterranean looking, blue-green light, but there was no indication as to its source. Should I go down here?' Lily asked aloud.

Raven did not reply, but swiftly walked past her, his tall shape diminishing quickly down the corridor. Lily felt she would rather remain with Raven, despite the absurdity of his appearance, than be left alone. She followed him.

There was no furniture in the corridor, not even a painting on the walls. The floor beneath her feet was of bare tiles, whose colours were now indiscernible through the dust and grime that had collected over the years. Lily was a little disappointed by what she saw around herself. Everything was so bare, everything had been removed. She had hoped to walk into a shrine to the Murkasters, with the furnishings neatly covered in white sheets, simply waiting for people to come back and live there once more. Now, just by being there and breathing the dead air, Lily knew in her heart that the Murkasters never intended to come back. All they had left behind them were the phantoms of their lives. There were no physical treasures to be uncovered. I should be dancing along these halls, in the dark, dressed in bright silks with ancient gold around my throat, Lily thought. They should have left something behind for me, a skin to wear, a looking-gla.s.s reflecting only history... The house wove a spell over her, as if melancholy dreams drifted down from the cobwebbed corners.

Ahead of her, on the left of the corridor, a door swung silently open, spilling a wan light over the floor tiles. Raven halted in his tracks without looking round, and Lily paused. The doorway stood between them now. She thought she could hear a sound, and strained her perceptions to decipher it, but it ebbed and flowed in her mind like a badly tuned radio. Voices, they are voices. Once Lily had identified the sound, it became clearer. She heard a low conversation, men speaking quickly.

What does this woman mean?'

He is out of his mind.'

But the flame, the flame? What about the flame?'

Can he do it?'

No.'

Yes. He might.'

It could be the end of all our work.'

Or the harvest of all our work.'

Lily hurried past. She felt if she lingered too long, her presence would be registered, even though she knew she was only hearing a replay of something that had happened a long time ago.

The corridor opened out into a circular hall, where a mosaic pattern on the floor depicted a brace of male peac.o.c.ks with their tails intertwined. A skylight in the ceiling picked out what remained of the colours of the tiles: ruby, indigo, blue and gold. Here the air smelled faintly perfumed, as if a woman had walked through it wearing Oriental scent, or once a sweet incense had been burned. Raven stood in the centre of the peac.o.c.k design, his arms folded on his breast. All Lily could see of his face were the lambent embers of his burning eyes. She hesitated before him. Where now?

A sound came, like someone opening a window with rusty hinges, followed by a m.u.f.fled crash; something falling, shattering. Then, the distant laughter, and more clearly, the low, sultry tone of a woman singing. Lily could not make out the words. Perhaps they were in a foreign language. The song called to her, invited her body to sway to its rhythm. Lily felt as if the song could carry her away, lift her bodily from the floor, so that she could float around in the air, brushing the ceiling with her fingertips. She lifted her arms high, standing on tip-toes, waiting, waiting, for someone to take her hands and lift her up.

A flickering white shape flitted past her, and abruptly the singing stopped. Lily gasped, and nearly fell, as if she really had been floating just above the ground. Someone stood just behind and to the left of Raven: a woman in a summer dress, her long hair flowing over her shoulders. She was smiling, but there was something flat and flickering about her appearance, as if she was merely a projection of an old film, playing upon the shadows.

Mum!' Lily reached out to this apparition, but it had already disappeared. Behind the spot where Helen had appeared, a door swung open, and a white light came out, as of bright daylight. With it came a scent of gardens, strawberries and red wine. Raven took a step to the side and turned to look into the light. Taking this as encouragement, Lily cautiously moved closer to the door. Had Helen pa.s.sed this way?

Inside, the room was furnished. Heavy tapestries covered the walls, depicting tall winged figures in robes, similar to those on the panelling in the main hall, but here more majestic and stylised. Lily was reminded of Egyptian wall paintings found only, she presumed, in tombs. The room was dominated by a colourful painting, which hung above the great hearth, where no fire burned. Lily looked at the painting and recognised her own face, even though the woman depicted there appeared to be of ancient Middle Eastern origin, dressed in the robes of a priestess and adorned with gold. Lily was drawn by the painting and stepped across the threshold. As she did so, she realised the room was not empty and that a man was sitting at an enormous desk, his head in his hands. As she entered the room, he looked up. Here you are,' he said. My tormentor, my love.' His dark red hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, but poured forward over his shoulders. He was perhaps the most beautiful man she had ever seen, other than Peverel Othman. He wore an expression of cynical resignation. He reminded her of Owen.

Father!' she said, and suddenly there was a great flapping and chirring of wings about her head. Lily threw up her hands to protect herself and the haunted cry of a peac.o.c.k echoed throughout the empty house. When she lowered her hands, the room was bare: no furniture, no painting, no phantom of Kashday. Even the carvings on the panels had become indistinct, only an arm reaching out here, the corner of a robe visible there. Lily retreated into the corridor, and saw Raven walking away from her, an unnaturally tall darkness gliding through the shadows. Raven, wait!' She ran to catch him up, but the cat-man neither slowed his pace nor turned around to beckon her. The corridor flashed past as Lily ran along it. How could she run so fast? It seemed as if the house was moving, while she was running on the spot.

Then, abruptly, the walls on either side of her came to a shuddering halt, and Lily realised she had stopped running. She had reached the end of the corridor.

Raven too had halted and now stood before a door, which was closed. Its panels were decorated by carvings of long, sweeping wings. Lily ventured forward cautiously and put her hands flat against the panels, feeling the ridges of the carvings beneath her palms. The wood felt warm and pliable, as if it was alive. She rested her cheek against it, and thought she could hear a faint, humming sound coming from beyond the door. If anything still lived in Long Eden, it was across this threshold. Lily wished another vision of her mother would appear to guide her, or that Raven would say something. But the cat-man remained silent, and no ghosts beckoned from the shadows. Summoning her courage, Lily put her hand upon the door k.n.o.b and tried to turn it, but it was locked. She shook it a few times, to no avail, and then stepped back with a sigh. Glancing at Raven, she enquired. Can't I go in here? You're a key, aren't you? Will you open the door for me?'

Raven's eyes were a glowing amber. He said nothing, but opened his red mouth and uttered a fluting yowling sound.

What?' Lily said. I don't understand. Speak!'

Raven simply repeated the note.

This was too frustrating for words. What was he trying to convey? Lily understood the language of cats only to the extent of being able to provide food, caresses or entrance to a closed room. Raven's cry had not sounded like a demand. Lily reached out and shook the door handle again, and uttered a soft sound of alarm when Raven's clawed hand shot out and gripped her wrist, pulling her away from the door. So what else can I do?' Lily said.

Slowly, Raven shook his head. His eyes seemed to burn into Lily's own, demanding her to recognise the instruction he was giving. Softly, the cat-man repeated his musical cry. Lily detected a note of exasperation in it. Are you so stupid, girl? Listen!

Wondering whether she'd interpreted the message correctly, Lily hummed the same note. As she did so, she thought she could hear another woman's voice joining hers, singing an identical tone. Raven blinked at her in the way that cats signify approval. Encouraged, Lily drew in her breath and sang the note once more, more loudly. As before, another female voice, which seemed to echo from somewhere deep within the house, mingled with her own. The weaving duet reverberated throughout the bricks and rafters of Long Eden, until Lily's hair began to lift on her neck. She felt a great joy build up within her, and her song climaxed as a scream. Something seemed to tug away from her, a sense of release, of power. All fell to silence.

Raven turned towards the door, and Lily saw that it now stood open, revealing a long flight of steps going downwards beneath the house. The note had been the key. Lily stepped forward. Must I go down?'

Raven again said nothing but began to descend the stairs. Hurrying, Lily followed him. She had to feel along the walls so as not to fall, because there was no light at all. Raven soon became invisible in the darkness ahead of her. Lily's pumps slipped upon the stairs; she dreaded losing her footing and plunging down into the darkness. Raven!' Her voice was m.u.f.fled; there was no echo.

Down, down. The stairs seemed to have no end. Lily fought a sensation of panic and claustrophobia. When she looked back, she not could see anything above her. Just as she was about to give in to her terror, turn back, and scrabble her way to the doorway, she noticed two amber lights hanging in the air ahead of her that she recognised as Raven's eyes. She heard a whispering voice murmur, Don't stop,' which she wasn't sure came from Raven or someone else. She went towards the eyes, noticing as she did so that the floor had levelled out. Groping, with her arms held out in front of her, she encountered Raven's body. Briefly, he put his long, furred arm around her shoulder, and then a weak light came to illuminate the short corridor in which they stood. Raven had apparently pushed open another door. Lily went towards it. Across the threshold lay an enormous room. Again, there was no visible source of light, but the whole place was illumined by a soft, yellowy radiance. Here, at last, were things that the Murkasters had left behind them in their flight.

Tentatively, Lily ventured into the room, which stretched away for as far as she could see. It was filled with tables, benches, shelves and cupboards, all of which bore strange machinery and models. Enormous books, as tall as Lily herself, lolled in a bookcase against the wall near the door. Nearby stood what appeared to be the skeleton of some extinct saurian, except that it looked more like a bird than any dinosaur Lily had seen in books or films. Some of the apparatus in the room was huge, brushing the ceiling with jointed, metal arms, supporting globes, a few of which had spikes. Lily thought this might be astronomical machinery, representing planets and stars. On the walls, reflecting the positions of the astrolabes, were great maps of the heavens, marked with red and purple lines of ink. Marvelling, Lily walked slowly to the nearest table, which was covered in metal b.a.l.l.s that shone with many colours like oil. Some of the b.a.l.l.s were as small as marbles, others the size of doorstops. Lily picked up a palm-sized ball; it was warm to the touch and lay heavy in her hand. What was its purpose? She became aware of faint sounds at the edge of her perception: soft, whispering voices, liquid bubbling, the clack of wood against metal and a swishing noise like a broom being brushed across the floor. She put down the ball and turned around quickly, but the sounds ceased immediately.

On another table, Lily found trays of metal instruments that looked disturbingly surgical. She picked up an object that seemed to be a strange hybrid of scalpel and pincers, and the faint noises of activity pushed against her ears once more. She smelled burning, something like charred hair. Lily dropped the instrument quickly and again the sensory impressions ceased immediately. Unnerved, Lily stood with her back to the table, looking around herself. Here, she felt very uneasy, the atmosphere was tense. Also, Raven was clearly visible in the light. He stood with arms folded some feet away, terrifyingly alien, yet weirdly familiar because of his feline features. He blinked at Lily, as if to rea.s.sure her. You're strange!' Lily said nervously. I want to get used to you, but it's difficult.'

Raven merely blinked again, but the brief communication helped to alleviate Lily's unease. She walked down an aisle between two rows of tables, Raven following.

This must have been where the Murkasters conducted their secret work,' Lily said. Did you ever work here, Raven?' She did not expect an answer. I don't suppose Raven's your real name, is it? If I knew your real name, would you speak to me again?'

A low, rumbling sound erupted in Raven's chest. Lily realised with some amus.e.m.e.nt that he was purring. Was that supposed to make her feel better? So loud a purr sounded distinctly threatening. Owen would love to see all this,' she said. I wish he was here.'

The aisle opened out into a circular s.p.a.ce, ringed by workbenches. In the centre of the circle, a drain was set into the floor. Above it stood a sinister rubber topped gurney, with leather straps dangling from its sides. Looking at it, Lily felt sick. What would she hear and smell if she should touch the ancient rubber, the cracked leather? The urge to do so was great, so Lily hurried quickly through this area, keeping her eyes ahead.

It took ten minutes to cross the laboratory. Some of the things Lily saw fascinated her and drew her attention, others repulsed her and filled her with nausea. Good feelings came from the intricate models of inexplicable mechanisms, which she handled without fear, alert for the indistinct sounds that accompanied her contact with the objects. But there were other things, such as the snaking tubes of gla.s.s and rubber, the ranks of bottles filled with ancient, murky liquids, that she would not touch.

On one table stood an array of exquisitely fashioned, tiny gla.s.s bottles, filled with luminous liquids: blue, green pink. Lily thought they looked like perfume bottles, and picked one of them up to sniff the contents. But when she removed the cork stopper, a fierce, sour stench puffed out that made her cry out. Sweat burst from the pores of her back and shoulders. She heard a terrible scream, as of an infant in great pain. Disgusted, Lily threw the little bottle onto the floor, where it smashed, releasing a series of heart-rending whimpers. What had happened here? In her heart, she knew. The experiments the Murkasters had conducted on their human servants had been to do with reproduction, the creation of hybrids, and the study of these processes. She could feel their dispa.s.sion. They had not been cruel, but unable to look upon humans as anything but inferior to themselves. Sickened, Lily ran the short distance left to reach the far side of the room. She wanted to cry, filled with a enervating despair. Raven came after her, touched her shoulder with his rea.s.suring paw-hand. Lily reached up to stroke it, grateful for his presence. Were they bad people?' she asked him. Are all Grigori like them?' Raven was not purring now.

They came to a wide doorway, which gave access to a flight of broad stone steps, leading downwards. Lily was unhappy with having to go further underground. How much farther down had the Murkasters tunnelled to hide their workrooms? However, Raven was already descending the steps, making it clear that this was the direction Lily had to go. She was not sorry to leave the laboratory behind, although she was aware she might have to cross it again to leave the house. This was not a cheering thought. She decided that instead she must direct her attention towards what lay ahead.

The walls on either side of the steps were threaded with thin veins of light, which provided weak illumination. Lily wondered where the light came from. When she touched the walls, they did not feel warm. The air smelled earthy, with a hint of stagnant pond water. Soon, Lily thought she could hear a faint echo of running water and the steps became damp beneath her feet, slippery with slime. The walls too were streaked with oily, fungal growths, channelled with thin streams of water. Lily was sure she must be pa.s.sing deep beneath the lake in Long Eden's grounds, although she had lost her sense of direction since descending the first flight of stairs to the workroom. The atmosphere had become very oppressive, and Lily was aware of a great weight pressing down upon her. She heard a low, booming sound and couldn't dispel the image of the ceiling suddenly opening up above her, and water crashing down to drown and break her body. A seed of terror opened up within her. She wanted to turn back, run through the hideous laboratory, fly up the long flight of steps, scurry through the listening house of ghosts, find the sunlight. But she could not stop walking.

Gradually, the steps became shallower, until they levelled out into a wide tunnel. Here, the walls were still plastered, although the plaster was distinctly leprous, parts of it having fallen away in chunks. Lily could see that at one time the walls had been covered in paintings similar in design to the carved panels she had seen in the house, but twenty years of neglect had taken their toll, and now little remained intact. Lights were set into the ceiling in gla.s.s globes, but they didn't look as if they were powered by electricity, being too similar to daylight, yet somehow flickering like the flames of candles. There were no longer veins of light in the walls, but that might be because they had been damaged by the damp.

The sound of water was much louder now - a muted roar - and within this sound Lily thought she could hear the echoes of cries that might have been human or the screams of birds.

Ahead of Lily, Raven ducked down beneath the lintel of an open doorway and disappeared. Lily disliked his habit of vanishing without waiting for her, but was still nervous of being alone and hurried to catch him up. She emerged into a round antechamber, which had a high, domed roof. The light was greener here. Raven had positioned himself in the centre of the room, and stood once more with folded arms, as if waiting for Lily to make her investigations of the surroundings. Around the edge of the chamber were seven columns of a soapy looking green stone, and to the left a great closed door. Opposite the entrance, another tunnel led out of the chamber.

Lily went up to one of the columns and touched it. As she did so, the stone resonated with a musical note. Hastily, she withdrew her hand and the sound ceased abruptly. It's like the things in the workroom,' Lily said to the silent Raven. When I touch something, a sound comes.' She went to another column and put her hand against the stone. This column also resonated a note, but at a different frequency. It sounded as if it came from a musical instrument, but Lily could not think what kind. She dared to keep her hand upon the column for a minute or so, and closed her eyes. In her mind, she saw seven shadowy figures, wearing long, fringed robes like Raven's, coming into the chamber. They were tall people, Grigori: three women and four men. Each member of the group approached a separate column and embraced it. To Lily it seemed as if they were in some way connecting with the columns and absorbing their distinct tones. She was sure that one of the group was Kashday. She opened her eyes and withdrew her hand. What was the purpose of this room? She was convinced Raven could tell her, but knew that interrogating him was pointless. For whatever reason, he was refusing to communicate with her in her own language. She eyed the cat-man speculatively. Had he always been here in Little Moor? Why had he appeared at Low Mede, and more importantly, was Verity aware of what kind of creature he was? Somehow, Lily doubted that. Verity was ordinary, a mortal woman, whereas Lily was half Grigori. Raven had revealed himself to her because she was different. I am becoming part of something, Lily thought. Yes, it is becoming easier now to accept what I am. I am not afraid of it. She held out her arms and threw back her head, spoke aloud to the sentinel columns. Show me. Show me everything.' Raven uttered a chirruping sound, which Lily took as approbation. She walked around the chamber, touching each column to conjure their notes. By keeping one hand on the column behind her, and reaching forward to the next, she could create a chord. The sounds were beautiful; she wished she could activate them all at once. What would happen then? Something she could not even imagine. When she reached the door on the left of the chamber, she saw that its central panel bore a carving of a cat-man, like Raven. Perhaps it even was Raven. Lily tried to open the door, but Raven uttered an admonishing or warning growl. A flash of light burst before Lily's eyes. In her mind, she saw the door fly open, and knew that the stairway behind it led up to the temple she had dreamed about, on the island in the lake. She also knew she must not go up there. It wasn't dangerous, but neither was it her destination. She stepped back from it, her fingers tingling. Raven uttered a soft, mewing sound and Lily went up to him. She felt compelled to put her arms around him and stood for a moment with her head resting just above his belly. She could hear the noises his body was making, ordinary sounds of digestion. How could such an unbelievable creature be alive and breathing, his body behaving in same ways as her own? Surely, he could only be a phantom or a visualised thought, yet he felt so real. Raven put his hands upon her head and lifted her face to look into her eyes. What was he thinking? Lily wondered. After only a moment, he gently disengaged himself from her arms and gestured for her to follow him into the tunnel on the other side of the chamber. For a moment, Lily hesitated. Despite her earlier feelings of belonging, she felt suddenly that something hideous was waiting for her up ahead. Raven seemed to sense her misgivings and uttered soft meows of encouragement. I am with you. I will protect you. Reluctantly, Lily followed him.

The corridor beyond was not as well lit, and Lily stumbled as she jogged behind Raven. He appeared to be hurrying now, as if something important was waiting for their arrival. The floor began to slope upwards, the stone no longer damp beneath their feet. Raven continually increased his pace, until Lily was forced to run if she wanted to keep him in sight. The floor slanted so steeply, her legs began to ache. She cried out, Wait!' but Raven ignored her. Just as Lily decided she'd have to sit down and get her breath back, whether Raven waited for her or not, the tunnel opened out into another chamber. Lily stopped dead at the threshold, breathing hard, her hands braced upon her knees. Her whole body was soaked in sweat, yet she felt cold. There was a heavy pressure in the atmosphere, which leadened her limbs. After a few moments, Lily raised her head, bracing herself for whatever she'd have to face. She recognised the chamber immediately.

This is it, the end of my journey. I'm here now. Something will happen.

The ceiling was high and domed, shaped like a beehive. There was little light, and although Lily could see that the walls were painted with looming figures, she could not make out the details. The rough marble floor was deeply grooved with concentric rings, each of which were at least three inches across. Lily thought a person could easily trip crossing the floor, if they didn't tread carefully. In the centre of the chamber was a wide pit, ringed with rough hewn ornamental stones, about six inches in diameter. Interspersed at regular intervals between the stones were seven pedestals, each supporting a huddled, shapeless form, wrapped in ancient grey and brown rags. They looked like petrified mummies, all facing the centre of the pit, as if whatever had once burned there had frozen them in time. Lily could see it now, pulsing in the middle of the pit, a seed of light, a burning, icy-blue glow.

I have been here before...

Lily remembered the time when Peverel Othman had made love to her at the High Place, and her visualised journey beneath the ground the wake the sacred flame. She had come to this place then: the hidden sanctuary of the Murkaster's power source. Here, her father and his family had once enacted their secret rituals and the flame had burned high. Lily straightened up and stepped across the first ring on the floor. She kept her eyes fixed warily on the ragged shapes standing on the pedestals, but they appeared to be dead, or perhaps only half-crumbled statues wrapped in cloth. The figures were hideous, yet somehow fascinating. Lily felt a pull of repugnance start up in her belly as she looked at them, but was drawn to approach them. Carefully, she stepped over the grooves in the floor until she was close enough to touch the hunched figure that stood on the nearest pedestal. It emanated an acrid, powdery, dusty smell. With a trembling hand, Lily reached out and stroked the rotting cloth. Fragments of fibre came away beneath her fingers. They are mummies,' she said to herself, and shuddered, rubbing her hand on the front of her dress.

Raven had taken up a position opposite to Lily, on the other side of the fire-pit. His arms were folded. They are guardians, like myself,' he said.

Lily looked up at him and smiled in relief. Ah, so now you can speak again!'

You must wait now,' Raven said.

For what? Will you tell me why I'm here, or what's going to happen?'

She will come,' Raven answered shortly.

She,' said Lily.

Raven sat down, cross-legged, outside the ring of stones surrounding the fire-pit. Lily did likewise. It seemed as if a faint thread of incense perfume was creeping into the room, gradually extinguishing the smells of rot and age. A ritual was about to begin. Lily closed her eyes and presently, began to dream.

Chapter Thirty-Four.

Ishtahar I am the daughter of Hebob, the farmer, who is held in esteem by the Shining Ones, the Lords who live in the High Place, beyond the lower plains. My father has spreading lands, here below the mountains. The Shining Ones came here in the time of my grandmother's mother. Before this time, it is said we were like animals. Now we are more like them, the Tall Ones, the Anannage. They are very beautiful, but we see them rarely. Where they came from, n.o.body knows, but they have given us the knowledge of the mystery they call their Source, which is beyond the light of the stars. Perhaps the Anannage came down from this unfathomable place themselves, or perhaps they were once like us, smaller people, who changed. Only the male elders of the village know the answer to this. The Anannage tell us we will change, and one day our children will spread throughout the world, like they have, taking knowledge with them.

I am the Oracle of my people, the gate to the starry firmament. Without women of my kind, the knowledge and science that the Anannage teach us cannot be practised.

I am sacred.

Our temple has a tier of sloping roofs, and stands in the centre of a sea of corn, approached by four radial paths. The people of the lower plains come to it at sunset, when the swelling harvest moon hangs her belly in the sky, red as the blood of birthing. Tomorrow is the day of harvest and now I am priestess of the festival, giving sacrifice before the cutting. Here, in the temple, my sisters have helped me to feed the perpetual flame, and now it burns high, a blue blade of light. Usually, it is small, but it is never extinguished. The men sit around me in a circle as I enter the flame. They are farmers and astronomer-priests, my father among them. At this time of year, my people need guidance on how to align the position of the harvested crops with the right constellations . It is of great importance.

My sisters fan me with sweet incense, their low, lovely voices taking me deep into the sacred trance. Through me, the Renowned Old Ones, ancestors of the Anannage, will speak. I channel their wisdom to the men, yet the meaning of the words I speak is hidden from me. I am the fount of all knowledge. My womb is the all-seeing Eye. I am the stargate, whose mind can pa.s.s without challenge through the portal of the stellar veils. Without me, there can be no commerce with the ancestors, yet the men will not share their knowledge with me, or my sisters. It is forbidden.

The flame burns higher, excited by the voices of my sisters, their supple genuflexions. Their ankles are braceleted with bells, which utter sacred music. Their long hair sways like unravelled linen, their faces veiled to prevent their breath polluting the flame. I feel the stars descend upon me, their white fire in my skin, their empyreal voices in my head, behind my eyes. It comes to me, this cold, white feast of knowledge, yet I am only the taster, who must pa.s.s the plate on to the men who wait to feed. Why am I denied? I know I have the power to go further than my elders would allow. I can feel their sacred staffs pointed towards the flame, pointing towards me, and it feels like the weight of chains. Why can my spirit not fly free and move through the sacred spheres of knowledge without the commandments of men? I would bestow my power to all my sisters, and become queen of my people. The men can feel this. This is why I am denied. They fear me for they know nothing of the power of being female, generator of life and channeller of wisdom. They fear all women. Yes. It is this.

My spirit enters the gate in the constellation of Orion. The Renowned Old Ones approach me: I can sense their flaming presence, yet cannot see them with my eyes of flesh.

My lips move around sounds that have no meaning to me. The men say, She speaks in tongues' and they pour sand upon the floor in precise patterns to record my words. Later, they will argue over the symbols and signs, until they are sure they know their secrets. The secrets will not be revealed to me.