The Word Of God

We gotta get out of this place
If it's the last thing we ever do.

Weil & Mann

There was a knock at the door and I let go of Peter and stood up. Who could this be? What should I do? Would I be forced to kill somebody else? What could I use to defend us now my sword was gone? There was a jug of water at the head of Peter's bed and I took hold of its handle. 'Come in,' I said and the door opened slowly and someone entered. It was a man - a short, slight man wearing a hospital porter's uniform and with a magpie-daemon perched on his left shoulder. He closed the door slowly behind him and stepped over Martin James' body. 'Hello Peter,' he said. 'Sorry I'm late.' His eyes were a deep penetrating blue.

'Arthur! Arthur Shire!' said Peter and his face cracked in the most enormous grin. 'By all that's splendid! At last! Where the jolly hell have you been?'

'Outside,' said Arthur's Dust-spirit. 'Stuck outside the city. He was keeping me there.' He pointed to the body. 'I couldn't get past the walls. He was holding me off.'

My heart was beating fast. 'Will you help us escape? Come on, you must know the way! Look, we've got to get out of here. Someone might come in any minute and find us.' I towered over him, I suddenly noticed. I must have been at least four inches taller than he was. Arthur raised his hand and put it on my shoulder. It weighed no more than a breath of air.

'Sonya Moon,' he said in a gruff voice. 'You have caused us no end of trouble.'

'I have?'

'You certainly have. I've chased you all over the place. You don't listen to what people tell you, do you?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean you always have to do everything your own way.'

'Yes?' I put my hands on my hips. 'So what?'

'Don't be so damn cheeky! Matters very nearly went very badly wrong here. It's only by the greatest good luck that the worst didn't happen.'

Oh. Did he know about...? How much did he know?

'What do you mean?'

'Don't mess me about! You know what I mean.'

'You mean what he,' I pointed to Martin James' prone body, 'was saying about the Christ? What we did together?'

'I do.'

'How do you know about all that?'

'Alfie has told me.'

Did you?

Yes. It's for the best.

Peter interrupted us. 'Arthur,' he said, 'why are you talking like that?'

'Like what?'

'Posh.'

'You means, why is we not talking like this?'

'That's right. That's how the Arthur I know speaks. How do I know you're not a fake too, like him down there?' Peter's eyes were twinkling.

'That's not funny,' I said.

Damn right it's not, said Alfie.

'Sorry,' said Peter, and squeezed my hand. 'Of course this is the real Arthur. It must be - I feel better already. Now, like Sunny says, let's go. I hate this place.' He swung his good leg out of the bed and levered himself up so he was wedged against the side of it. 'Ready?'

Arthur leaned back against the door. It hardly moved under his weight. 'It's not as simple as that. I think you're forgetting something rather important.'

'And that is...?'

'Why we came here.'

'Oh.' Peter took hold of the bed-rail. 'That.' He sat down again.

I sat down next to him and put an arm around his waist. He'd looked so happy only a minute before when Arthur appeared and now he was all fed-up again. 'Are you talking about the Word of God?' I said.

'Yes,' Arthur replied.

'Well, that's easy! We've already found it, haven't we, Peter? It was in a glass cabinet in the Department of Employment. All we've got to do is find our way down there again, pick it up and escape. I say all... but wait a minute! You'll know. Arthur - how close are our forces? All we really have to do is hang on here until they break through the dome and rescue us. Perhaps Peter's son Danny'll be with them.'

But Arthur ignored me. Instead, he crossed the room and sat on the other side of the bed from me. 'Peter,' he said. 'You know you're here for a reason, and why it's you and Sunny who were chosen and nobody else.'

'Yes...'

'And you know that I can only help you so far. There's a point beyond which I can do nothing.'

'I know.'

'And I know, too, that you could stop right here and be safe, just like Sunny says.'

'Yes.' Peter stroked Viola and her tail curled around his fingers the way it had around mine. What is it, Alfie? What are they talking about? What do they mean by chosen

Listen. Perhaps you'll learn something.

'But we won't, will we?' said Arthur.

Peter sighed deeply and let his head fall forward. 'No, we won't.' His words were scarcely audible.

'Now,' said Arthur, 'this is what we have to do...' And as he spoke, I realised that, however badly I had thought we were doing, however awful it had been when I had killed the false Gerry, and been the cause of the death of Jacques Fourneaux, and seen Jack and Minta die in Marialabone and tried to help Sister Moulson care for the dead and dying soldiers in the field hospital, there might be something that was even worse than that. Those deaths and injuries had been terrible enough, but they had been unintended, by me at any rate. I had not planned their occurrence. I hadn't sat down and worked out how I could cause those men to be hurt, or those lives to be lost, or those families to be bereft. But what Arthur was saying, in his quiet, rough-edged voice, was different. It involved me directly. It was something which was in my power to prevent, if I wanted to. If I had the courage to.

'No!' I said, interrupting Arthur. 'No! There's no need to do this. There's no need for all that... destruction. Is there? Peter? Peter?' I looked into his eyes and took him by both shoulders. 'Look! You don't have to do it. You mustn't do it. It's wrong!'

'Five minutes ago,' said Peter,' I'd have agreed with you. But in the end, what Arthur says is right. I knew that in London, when I agreed to come here, but I put it to the back of my mind.

'You see, Sunny, it's not enough by itself to free the Word of God and give it to everybody. That's a fine thing to do, and I want you to try to do it. But knowledge is not something frozen in books or crystals. It's alive. It grows. Every time a theologian looks at a leaf, or at a star, or finds a new pattern in an array of numbers, or invents a new way to arrange the movement of a clock,' he smiled faintly, 'that's another page written in the book of learning, or another step on the road to enlightenment. If we allow the Church to maintain its monopoly on knowledge, all the men and women, boys and girls who have died in the War will have died for nothing, because at the end of the day nothing will have changed.'

'But you said that if we freed the Word and gave it to everybody in all the countries in the world, then there would be no more need for war.'

'Yes I did. But remember what I also said. Knowledge is an organic, living thing. It is ever-advancing from childhood to maturity. The information that we free today or tomorrow will decay as time passes and new discoveries and revelations are made by theologians everywhere. In time it will lose its value, as yesterday's newspaper is worth less than today's or a snake sheds its old, worn-out skin. In no more than five years, if nothing changes, the Church will once more own the Word of God exclusively and we will all be back where we started. The Afric Nations and the Empires of the East will have the same reasons for war they did three years ago, and as little recourse against the Church that they had back then. In ten years we could all be at war again.'

'But if they're defeated today, surely they'll give up?'

'Would you, if you were them? I doubt it! They'll come back stronger than before, armed with more powerful and destructive weapons than ever.' Peter laughed, but there was nothing humorous about him. 'No, Arthur's right. There is an evil here that we must put an end to once and for all.'

'But...'

'I know. The human cost will be appalling.'

I stood up and turned to look at the wall. Alfie climbed to my shoulder.

This is wrong. It must be. There has to be another way out.

We'd like to believe that, wouldn't we? We'd love to sit tight and do nothing, hoping that something will turn up. We'd like to wash our hands of all this.

You mean we could just stay here and hope that the alliance will do the job for us?

We could. But suppose they didn't? Then where would we be? How could we live our lives, knowing that we might have prevented a war even more terrible than the one which killed Gerry if we'd only had the guts to see things through to the end?

Alfie! No! I hated him then, using Gerry's name even while his treacherous copy lay dead at our feet. If I could, I'd have... I'd have killed him and died myself. But I couldn't do that. I turned round. Peter and Arthur were still sitting on the bed. The body of Martin James was still lying on the floor.

'Are you sure about all this?'

'As sure as we possibly can be,' said Arthur.

'Then... all right. Count me in. I'll come to the Citadel with you. I'll do all I can to help.'

'Oh Sunny,' said Peter. 'I knew you'd say that. That's just the kind of girl you are. But you're too young.'

'I am not!'

'Yes, you are. Much too young. Your life has hardly begun. Arthur and I can do what needs to be done between ourselves. If it were not that it will take two people to do what we have to do, Arthur could manage it by himself.'

'But I want to come with you! I want to help!'

'I know. But I could never let you do this. I want you to live and be happy and free. But there will be two keys to turn and two levers to pull if we are to finish the job we came here to do. Arthur needs me to come with him.'

The tears were starting to run down my cheeks. 'You're saying I'm useless!'

'No, you're not,' said Arthur's Dust-spirit. 'What Peter is saying, and I completely agree with him, is that your path and his are going to lead in different directions from now on. Neither of us knows for sure where those paths are going to end up.'

'But...'

'Peter has chosen his path. It is the one that seems right to Viola and him. It is a difficult one, and very perilous. But you do not need to take that way yourself. It is his path, not yours, and it is for him to walk alone, with my help.'

'But I told you. I want to help too.'

'I know. But you could do no more than I can, and you might make it harder for Peter.'

'You see, Sunny,' said Peter, 'when the time comes when I do what I have to do I must be free to choose. How could I make the choice I know I must make if it would mean the death of Alfie and you? How could I be the cause of your death, when I love you so much? My hand would freeze solid, or I would cut it off, rather than do that.'

'No... no... no....' I faced the wall again. Arthur stood up and walked, feather-soft, to where I stood weeping. 'Sunny,' he said, 'you're very brave. Everybody knows that. I'm asking you to be brave in a new way. Not by doing things like volunteering for service or going to the Front or carrying Peter into Geneva, but by not doing something. You must help Peter and me, not by rushing along with us and being valiant and adventurous but by being patient and steadfast. That is much harder. There's no fun there, no thrill of battle or rush of excitement. No glory. Can you do that?'

Remember, said Alfie. Remember how we stood up to Herr Birkicht, the Interrogator, in the Citadel? Remember that story of the Comrades Three where Beryl had to keep quiet, and be thought a coward and a traitor, so that Rosemary could reach the Verdigris Tower and find the Key of Trifax without being discovered?

That was only a story.

Then remember how we yielded to Martin James, the ersatz Gerry. We could have stood up to him, if we'd tried.

But we...

I know. It is my guilt as well as yours. It is shared, as is everything between men and daemons.

Oh, Alfie...

After a while I turned and faced the man and the spirit. I rubbed at my cheeks with the back of my hand. 'All right. I suppose I'll have to let you do what you want. But answer me one question, Mister Shire. You're not a real man, are you? You're more like an angel. You have no physical strength. How are Peter and you going to get to the top of the Citadel without me? Who's going to support him as he walks?'

'There's a way,' Arthur said. 'A way Peter knows. He has seen it before'

'In another world,' said Peter. 'Far away, and long, long ago.'

- 0 -

We sat in a circle with our daemons in its centre. At a sign from Arthur we linked our hands. Our daemons touched - the spirit and the real. Immediately a feeling of great peace enveloped me. We were one. I could feel Arthur and Peter within me, as they in their turn could feel me within them. Our daemons sat rapt, completely absorbed into one another.

Arthur's face was fierce with concentration, smooth with the calm of the trance, blissful in our shared consciousness. As we sat and time passed by the thousandth of a second I slowly became aware of a change in the quality of the light in the room. It was losing its anbaric glare, softening and taking on a tint that was, to begin with, the merest suggestion of orange-yellow but became steadily less translucent and more dense; increasingly suffused with gold. Living gold, that swirled and twisted around us, that spun and orbited about our bodies and formed, while all the clocks of the world hesitated between tick and tock, a whirlpool whose focus hung suspended above our daemons.

I realised that the golden light was shot through with tiny particles which glowed even more brightly than the surrounding radiance. They looped and twisted about one another, forming orbits of living threads, spinning through complex interconnected knots of power. These brilliant loci were the points from which the glow sprang. They were living creatures on their own account.

They are stars, said Alfie, or was it Viola, or was it Sarastus? They are the stars, and they know of our need and they have come to help us now. They are emissaries of the Dust-stream and they bring with them life and love and healing and strength. They will renew us.

As I gazed in awe, the bright points multiplied a hundred-fold. They concentrated themselves onto a dense ball in the middle of the vortex. Then - and there was no time between this moment and the next - a great burst of energy erupted from the surface of the glowing sphere. It sprang into the air and pierced Peter's chest, transfixing him with a spear of light. The head of the spear leapt over his head and dived back into him, emerging from the back of his neck and looping over his chest to impale him once more. Over and over again the coils of energy threaded through Peter's body until it could no longer be seen. In my mind I heard the voices of the stars as they sang; nacreous and pure, high and melodiously sweet.

No... They're killing him... Stop... Please...

Peter was now completely encased in a gilded shell of stardust. His body lifted from the surface of the bed and became horizontal, floating over it like a magician's levitation. I was caught between breaths, but I found I could still count, so I did:

One... two... three... four... five... six... seven...

eight...

nine...

And the spell broke. Peter fell onto the bed with a thump. And then...

And then he stood up. On both feet. And he raised his hand. The left one. And he opened his mouth and laughed, and ran to the door, leaping over Martin James' body and waving both arms around his head like windmills. He dashed over to me and picked me up in a great bear-hug and held me to his chest and smothered my face with kisses, and as his left arm touched me I felt its power, surging with cosmic energies.

Arthur was still sitting on the bed, looking a little dazed. Peter dropped me again and threw himself onto the bed, putting his arms around the spirit. 'Dust-gathering!' he cried. 'Dust-gathering! I never thought I'd see it again! Oh Arthur, you're an absolute marvel! I can do anything now! Anything at all!'

'For a while,' said Arthur. 'For a while.'

- 0 -

Peter went to the closet and took out his old clothes. I watched while he changed into his city suit. The whole left side of his body was encased in flying streamers of sparkling yellow light, racing faster than the eye could follow and supporting him as he moved. His delight in his restored freedom of movement was plain to see. Finally he stood up, and although he was not a tall man he suddenly seemed to tower over Arthur and me.

'Now for you,' said Arthur.

'What do you mean?'

'What I mean is this: You came into this building with a man who looked like your brother. You will not be allowed to leave it by yourself. He must be there to accompany you.'

'But he can't. I... killed him.'

'So you did, and a good thing too. You mustn't blame yourself. It was an accident, caused by his eagerness to hurt Peter. I must say, though, that if you had killed Martin James on purpose I wouldn't have held it against you. He had done many evil things in his life, in all the universes where he had lived.'

'I don't understand. Universes?'

'Worlds, then. Peter has probably told you about the times he travelled to worlds other than this. Martin James was also such a traveller. He was exiled from this, his native world, as a result of an abominable crime he committed twenty years ago. He would have died if he had stayed here. Until recently he was living in the Metaverse, which is the world that is all worlds.'

'I still don't understand.'

'In time you will. For now, it's enough to know that he will not trouble us again. Now; are you ready?'

'Yes,' said Alfie.

'To do what?' I asked.

To Change.

Oh, of course. Alfie was the key to our getting safely out of the hospital. Go on, I said. I felt a familiar wrench and Alfie the mink-daemon was no longer present. In his place stood a handsome young man, sun-tanned and naked. He helped me roll over the body of Martin James and remove his clothing. Much of it was stained with blood and I had to sponge it off as best I could in the wash-basin. Peter - even infused with Dust as he was - could not bear to watch and lay on the bed, face down and holding Viola close.

At last it was done, and my brother - or his simulacrum - stood next to me. 'I think,' said Arthur, 'that you should be very sparing indeed in your use of this ability of Alfie's from now on. It is deadly dangerous to the health of your spirit. Promise me, won't you?'

'I think that's one lesson we've already learned,' said Alfie.

'Dead right,' I added with a grin. Everybody laughed.

- 0 -

And then, all of a sudden, there was no reason for us to be there any more. As if to reinforce the point the building shook under the impact of a huge explosion from outside. The battle was very close to us now. 'Yes,' said Arthur. 'It's time. Sunny and Alfie, you go first. Make your way as quickly as you can to the tunnel. Run as fast as possible and don't stop until you get out of the other side. Peter and I will try to give you all the time we can, but our hands may be forced and we may have to act sooner than we would like.'

'I understand.'

'Then you must say your goodbyes now. If all goes well I will see you in England, but I do not think that you and Peter will meet again in this world.'

Oh. Now I knew it, even though I had probably known it all along. This was the end.

Peter stood up and crossed over to me, holding his arms open wide. He no longer looked like a tired middle-aged man, but more like a boy no older than me, with a broad smiling face and an unworried brow. He was as strong and vigorous as he must have been when he first came to Oxford to learn his clockmaker's trade. I stepped towards him and we embraced and kissed each other on the lips as lovers do, or old friends who have met again after many years' absence. We stood together and I let my head rest against his. He was, as I have said, young and full of life and I could feel the breath of the stars on my cheek and hear their melisma singing in my ears. I whispered so that only he could hear, and he replied in the same manner:

'I love you, Peter. I wish you didn't have to go.'

'I love you too, Sunny. I'm only doing what I have to do. You know.'

'I do know. I'll never forget you.'

'I'll not forget you either.'

'Then goodbye and good luck.'

'Goodbye and good luck. Be safe. Oh, and look after my knapsack, would you? I shan't be needing it any more.' That hit me unexpectedly hard, and I had to swallow a couple of times.

Goodbye, said Alfie to Viola and Goodbye came her answer. Goodbye forever. I drew in a deep breath and we parted. Then Alfie and I picked up Peter's knapsack with my sword-hilt and all his precious possessions in it, opened the door and walked through it and out into the corridor. I shut the door slowly and carefully behind me and let the latch slide back into place with a soft click. Then, choking and biting my lip so hard I could taste its blood welling up salt-sweet in my mouth, I held Alfie's hand as tightly as I could and walked slowly down the passageway to the stairs. I mustn't cry, I mustn't cry, I kept telling myself. Don't cry, Driver Moon. Look happy - you're with your brother, the well-regarded and important Lieutenant Moon. Smile. It's the only way we'll get out of here in one piece.

Alfie, are you all right? Can you keep your form steady?

Yes.

We reached the lift. I pressed the call button and waited for it to arrive. What if somebody came and saw Alfie and me, both apparently daemonless? They won't see that, said Alfie. They won't believe they could see that. They'll assume they missed seeing them. Everybody has a daemon with them, after all.

Everybody except the witches.

But we're not witches. I'm certainly not. They know that. People only see what they expect to see. Calm down - your heart is banging away fit to burst!

The lift came and we got in. There was a woman already inside - a nurse with a cat-daemon at her feet. As Alfie had predicted, she ignored us.

Then we were at the ground floor level. The lift doors swung back and we stood aside to let the nurse leave first, which she did as if it were her natural right. We followed her into the entrance hallway, Alfie's hand clasped in mine. I was shaking so much I was sure somebody would notice. As we passed the front desk he turned to speak to the nurse on duty.

'Finished with Mister Joyce now, sister, but he's asleep. I suggest you leave him for an hour or two. Let the poor man get some rest. Any news of the Liberation?'

'Yes, sir.' The sister coloured slightly. 'The alliance forces are only a few hundred metres away. They could break through at any moment.'

'Grand news, eh, sister? Exciting times!' Alfie smiled confidently.

'Splendid news, Lieutenant Moon. Goodbye for now, sir.'

'Goodbye sister. Keep up the good work, eh?'

'Yes sir.'

We pushed out of the swing doors. I never knew you could be such a charmer, I said.

Neither did I.

Well mind you don't overdo it in future!

There was a little side-street a short step down the hill towards the old lake and Alfie and I ducked into it. He Changed back into his mink form and struggled out of the pile of clothes that had suddenly smothered him. I gathered him up into my arms. Let's go!

We dashed out of the alleyway and ran down the hill. I had a thought, and called out, 'Take cover, take cover!' as I ran. If could save a few lives from what was going to happen if Peter and Arthur were successful it would be worth it. We passed the Estaminet König and I shouted into its gloomy interior, 'Take your mother down to the cellar, Jean! Take shelter!'

The streets were busy with people running to and fro. Some of them were making their way eastwards, preparing to greet the liberators. Other, with perhaps more sense, were going in the opposite direction. The air was full of a white haze of floating concrete-dust caused, we supposed, by the impact of shells and rockets on the roof of the dome shaking material loose from the inside. The crack that I had seen last night from the windows of Martin James' apartment was not visible now. Perhaps it had been patched up.

Faster, faster. I was risking a trip and a nasty fall on the pavement, but I knew that Peter and Arthur would already be making their way to the Citadel. I wondered what form Arthur would take so that they would gain admittance. Surely nothing would go wrong now? But why shouldn't it? Half of me still wanted them to fail. I hated this place - hated it with all my heart - but I had no reason to hate the people who lived there. 'Run, run away! Hide deep underground!' I shouted as I reached the Quai des Bergues and turned right. Passers-by stared briefly, but paid me little attention. The whole world was mad that day. Liberation was coming to the city; and what was one more lunatic girl dashing about and shouting at the top of her voice? Another boom sounded - from the east this time - and mortar shook from the faces of the buildings.

Liberation was coming. Yes, but destruction too.

- 0 -

The front door of the Department of Employment was wide open. In fact, as I neared it I saw that it had been shaken from its hinges and lay shattered in pieces on the ground. I ran up the steps and through the vacant entrance lobby. This was the first critical moment. If there was an officer on the desk I would either have to bluff my way past him or somehow disable him. But I doubted that there would be anybody there, today of all days. Not with the end of the war so near.

I was right. The lobby was empty. I was about to open the double doors at the back of the room and find the passageway beyond when Alfie said, The Word!

Yes, of course. I ducked behind the empty marble desk and opened the glass display cabinet. Where... yes! Here it was, replaced in its old position by the methodical police force of Geneva. The glass sphere which looked like a paperweight but was in fact a crystal store of all the knowledge of the world.

How are we going to read it? said Alfie.

Let the theologians worry about that! I picked the crystal up and stuffed it into the knapsack. Now for the last hurdle. Would the sentry still be posted on the door to the cellar room? I crashed through the double doors and ran down the corridor.

No! Terrific! The door was unguarded. But was it unlocked?

Bound to be, said Alfie, and he was right. Only a fool would lock an emergency exit. I opened the door and slipped into the room beyond, closing it behind me. It was all as I remembered it, but unexpectedly dim. Of course it had seemed brightly lit after the darkness of the tunnel. Never mind. I strode across the floor to the hole with the ladder and turned round carefully so I could climb down it safely. I had just put my feet on the top rung when the door rattled, horribly loud in that empty room. I had been followed! Somebody was after me! Quickly I started to climb down, but just as I was getting my head below the level of the floor the knapsack caught on the edge of the hole. I lost my footing with the shock - my left boot felt for a rung but found only empty space and slipped. My knees buckled and I fell ten feet to the bottom of the ladder, hit my head on the floor and passed out.

- 0 -

I don't know how long I lay concussed on the earthen floor underneath the cellar room. It may have been as much as a couple of hours or it might have only been five minutes. What is certain is that nobody came into the room after me, or if they did they didn't bother to check the ladder. It was, as I have said, a strange day when nobody was behaving normally.

Oddly enough, my first thought on waking to bleary consciousness was to wonder whether the crystal containing the Word of God had been damaged or maybe even broken by my fall. I opened the knapsack and in the half-light I saw that I could dimly glimpse the blinking red light and the flowing green lines within. That was something. My part of the mission was still going well. But what about Peter and Arthur? How were they doing? I had to get up and start moving down the tunnel straight away. I stood up and tried to grasp the iron upright of the ladder to steady myself but as I raised my left arm there was a horrible crunching sound and I felt a sharp pain. I let it fall, the breath whistling through my teeth. I tried not to scream.

It's broken, said Alfie.

Wrenched, anyway, I replied. I can't do anything about it now. We must go. If we stay here we'll be killed. Come on. I let the useless limb fall to my side. There was a clicking, cracking tearing from inside it as it moved and I cried out helplessly. I took a step forward into the blackness of the tunnel, but with every movement of my body my arm moved and gave off stabs of agonising pain.

Stop, Alfie said. Sit down.

We've got to go!

We're going nowhere if we don't do something about that arm. Lift it up across your chest. Here, let me help you. I sat down and Alfie climbed across my front. Lean forward. I did so, hoping that I couldn't be heard. Now let me... Alfie passed the straps of the knapsack underneath my broken arm and over my shoulder. Sit up. I did, and as I moved the strap tightened and lifted my arm. The pain made me feel giddy. I whimpered - coward that I am - but as I staggered to my feet I could sense that the knapsack's strap was holding my arm tightly against my chest. It wasn't going to move any further.

Sorry about making all that fuss, Alfie.

Don't be silly. Look! Our hospital experience has done us some good after all!

I grabbed hold of the other strap with my right hand and together, Alfie riding on my shoulder, we set off as quickly as we could go into the black mouth of the tunnel. I had no idea whether we would ever see its far end. We walked and walked and walked and the light receded behind us and the only way I could avoid bumping into the walls was by holding out my right arm and feeling for the scrape of brick or stone.

- 0 -

Hurry, hurry, hurry, said a voice that could have been mine or could have been Alfie's. I'm doing the best I can, I replied. I was, although I had given up on running or trotting along as the motion jerked my arm around too much. The strap worked loose from time to time, forcing us to stop to tie it up again.

How long was the tunnel? Four miles. How quickly were we walking? A fast walk was three and a half to four miles an hour. So - we'd reach the other end of the tunnel in just over an hour so long as we didn't stop too often. Our progress would be much quicker than before. I was already splashing through the damp section which had given us so much trouble on the way to Geneva. Only an hour. That should be long enough, except that I didn't know how long we'd spent knocked out at the foot of the iron ladder. It could have been any amount of time. Peter and Arthur might already be in the control room at the highest point of the Citadel, warming up and aligning the guidance tracers.

- 0 -

A ghastly thought suddenly struck me. The other end of the tunnel... The end... Oh, no. How on earth could we have forgotten that?

I know, said Alfie. It's blocked by the ruins of the hut.

You didn't say!

What would have been the point? We'd still have had to come down here. There was no other way out.

So there's no point in carrying on?

There's every point. Keep moving.

So I did.

- 0 -

I trudged on for another half hour at least. I tried to guess the time of day. By my reckoning it was something between about one o'clock and maybe three. There would still be plenty of light in the sky, then. Better keep going. So I walked and walked, but I was becoming more and more tired and confused. My head ached from the fall and there was nothing I could take to stop it hurting. I kept on seeing little sparkling points of light ahead of me, and I'd think that there was a way out, but when I turned my head to the side they were still there. So they were only inside my head, then. We had passed the dampness and although I should have been able to walk for ever without stopping I did take a rest every two hundred paces or so, just to lean against the wall and let Alfie tighten the strap that was holding my arm up.

There came a time when I was thinking, We must be there now. We must have got to the chamber where the stone stairs lead up to the hut. I was still wondering when we would reach the end when I became aware that Alfie and I were no longer alone. Who could be down here with us? Were we being followed? I turned round. Perhaps I had been right after all and somebody had been trying to enter the cellar room after us. Out of the darkness came a sound like a curtain being drawn. I cupped my ear with my hand. Was it real, or just the delayed echo of my own footsteps? I stood absolutely still and stopped breathing. There it was again.

'Hello,' I called out. 'Who's there?'

There was no reply. I didn't know what to do. I no longer carried a weapon with me. My sword's blade had been destroyed. Perhaps the hilt would make a good club, but I couldn't reach it. The simple act of turning round pulled at my bad arm, making me wince with pain. Silence... then there was another swish, like cloth rubbing against cloth. Something disturbed the air in front of me. There was definitely someone or something there, coming closer all the time.

'Hello? Where are you? What's going on?'

And then with a brittle flutter something brushed against my face. A bird, or a moth or - I shuddered - a bat. 'Quiet!' it said. 'They can hear you in Paris!'

'I'm sorry.' I lowered my voice. 'Who are you? Are you a Speaking Creature?'

'I am a witch-daemon, Gienah the raven-formed. My witch Pluvia Vega is waiting for us above ground.'

'Did Arthur send you?'

'Arthur? Who is Arthur? I do not know. Pluvia received a message, that is all. She sent me into the subterrain to find you. Quickly! We must leave. I need the open air - this underground is hateful to me.'

'Of course. Come on, Alfie. How do we get out?'

'There is a side-passage. You walked straight past it, you foolish girl. Come quickly! We must leave here now. Fast! Run!'

'It hurts when I run.'

'I do not care! Run now. Run quickly, or I will leave you behind.' And with a sweep of air the bird-daemon brushed past me and flew into the darkness. I hitched up the knapsack and ran after him.

'Faster! Faster!' came the voice from ahead of me. 'It is death to stay here.'

'I'm going as fast as I can,' I panted. 'How will I know when I reach the side-passage?'

'I will tell you,' echoed the raven-voice in the distance.

Forty paces. Fifty. A hundred. And then the echo of my footsteps changed and the pressure in my eardrums reduced slightly. 'Here?' I asked.

'Here. Turn left. Follow me. There is no time to lose.'

I turned to the left and crashed into the wall at the corner where the side-passage was. It was my right arm that took the brunt of the impact; even so I sobbed with pain as the knapsack moved and tugged my broken limb out of position.

'No time for crying now, you silly thing! Run. Run!' Again the flap of invisible raven-wings ahead guided my way. I counted paces again while Alfie clung on to my shoulder. One hundred. One hundred and fifty. The ground beneath my feet was starting to slope upwards and the muscles in my legs were complaining.

'How much further?'

'Stop!' squawked the raven-daemon from only a few feet in front of me. 'There is a ladder ahead. Climb up it. Open the trap-door at the top.'

'My arm...'

'Never mind your arm. Do as I say, or we will all be killed.'

'But I can't...'

'Shut up, girl! Do as you are told!'

I will help you, said Alfie.

I held my right arm out ahead of me and quested with my fingertips for the ladder. Two, three steps forward and my hand met a rough stone wall. I brushed to the left and right.

'Hurry up!' said the raven.

There! Now, said Alfie. You hold on with your right hand and I'll do what I can on the left.

I mounted the first rung. My right hand slid up the iron upright. Then the next rung. My hand slid up further. Then the next, and this time Alfie stretched around my neck and caught the other side in his sharp claws. Another rung. Another. Five more, and then my head bumped against wood. I was expecting it, but even so I nearly slipped back down again.

'How can I open it? Is it locked?' I didn't see how I could hold on to the ladder and undo a bolt at the same time.

'My witch will help.'

'Tell her to make it snappy!'

The bird whistled twice and I heard a thumping from above. Then the trap-door was flung back and a wave of light washed over me.

'Quick, quick!' I nearly leapt up the last few rungs. A strong hand caught me under the right arm and pulled me up. Alfie and I stood blinking in a room which, to my surprise, appeared to be a kitchen in an ordinary house. I looked around for my helper, but all I saw was a glimpse of white skin under trailing black rags and a glossy wing resting against a bare shoulder. 'Westwards! Go west! Don't look back!' said Gienah, before taking wing and following his witch out of the open window. I saw cloud-pine against a blue afternoon sky and a skybound figure with a raven at her side and then nothing, except maybe the suggestion of a twinkle from an amused eye.

That was the rudest daemon I've ever met! said Alfie.

He saved our lives.

We're not safe yet. Look!

I looked and only now did I realise how perilous our position still was. We stood in an ordinary kitchen maybe, but the house around it was in ruins and the floor was covered with loose rocks and a thick layer of dust. Gienah and Pluvia Vega could have just as easily flown out through the ceiling as the window. Both had been shattered by shellfire. Carefully I stepped out of the remains of the doorway, but even as I caught hold of what remained of its frame I lost my footing and fell, twisting my left ankle. I picked myself up again and hobbled out through the hallway, past piles of fallen woodwork. The front door had been blown in by the bombardment which this house and the village it stood in had suffered. I made my way slowly down the steps to the muddy, rubble-strewn garden at the front of the house. There I sat down on a piece of masonry which might once have been the garden wall. I did not think I would be able to walk very far, despite Gienah's urging.

I looked around to take stock. The sun was still a fair way above the horizon. I guessed it was six or seven o'clock. It was eerily quiet. I had expected to emerge into the middle of a battle or, better, behind our lines. I wondered what had happened. Were our armies already in Geneva? I hoped not - but if they were not there, where were they?

My left leg hurt like hell and I didn't dare put any weight on it. I had no idea how I was going to get to safety. I looked to the east. Although I'd walked for over an hour underground I could not have got much further than three miles before reaching the surface. The three-hundred foot dome still bulked massive and high before my gaze.

Come on, said Alfie. We've got to try.

So we had. I got to my feet slowly, but as I'd expected would happen a sharp pain stabbed at my left ankle when I tried to walk. I sat down again with a sigh.

Alfie...

Yes?

Can you help me? Please? Can you Change and support me?

Arthur said...

I know. But please...

No, I will not. He was right. We cannot take the risk. Not here, not now. Wait a minute. Alfie ran back into the ruined house. I gasped - he was suddenly as far removed from me as he had ever been and I could feel the strands which linked us stretching tight, like a band of caotchuc. I heard him rummaging about and a minute or so later he emerged tail-first, with a long piece of wood clenched between his teeth. He opened his mouth and dropped it. 'Over here!'

I walked stiff-legged over to Alfie, knelt down and picked up the piece of broken window-frame he had found. Yes, it would do.

Who's a clever little chap, then?

He ducked his head modestly. Come on. Let's get going.

I stood up carefully and wedged the post under my left armpit, holding it in place with my right hand. It was not elegant, but it was as good a makeshift crutch as I was going to get on such a day and in such a place. There was a road, littered with shrapnel and debris, which led in the direction of the sun and away from Geneva. We set out along it. Our time was running out.

- 0 -

Our progress was slow and painful. We soon cleared the town, but the road swiftly deteriorated into a muddy track; rutted with the imprint of heavy wheels and caterpillar tracks and interrupted from time to time with shell-holes which we had to work our way around. I could not have climbed out of one if I had once fallen into it.

The road was empty, and all I could hear were the soughing of the wind and the sound of my good foot and my crutch bumping alternately against the road. Thump-tap, thump-tap we went, like a crippled man.

Yes, said Alfie. Like him. I sniffled uselessly.

- 0 -

We had made maybe a couple of miles of this slow, stumbling progress and still not seen a living soul since being abandoned by Pluvia and her raven-daemon when a prickling of the hairs on the back of my neck alerted me to what was about to take place. I knew it. I had experienced it once before.

Don't stop, said Alfie. Don't turn round. Find shelter. Cover your eyes.

But all I could think was, Peter! Arthur! They've done it! They've succeeded!

Alfie was right, I knew. My best hope of surviving the next five minutes was to take cover, preferably behind a large rock, as close to the ground as possible. But no... I couldn't do that. I couldn't duck down and hide my eyes. Not now. There was a half-ruined shepherd's hut only a few yards away from the road so, placing the foot of my temporary support carefully into the ditch which separated the carriageway from the fields I staggered as quickly as I could over to it and crouched down inside underneath the sill of an east-facing window. I poked my head above it to look, despite Alfie's warnings. I owed it to everybody to be a witness to this sacrifice.

Just as it had before when the Marie-Louise was attacked, an umbrella of pulsating green lines was forming overhead. It was wildly tilted, as if the person holding the umbrella was trying to protect himself from a strong south-westerly wind. I knew that when the green lines, which Peter had called tracers, disappeared it meant that the weapon was correctly aimed and I held my breath. But instead of the pattern disappearing, another one formed, centred in the north this time. Where the green lines crossed bright nodes appeared, throbbing with livid energy. Two weapons, then.

No, three. Another dartboard-pattern sprang into being, with its bulls-eye in the west. I was shaking with fear now. This was going to be terrible beyond anything I had ever experienced.

Four. Five. And now there were six interlocking grids spinning over us, with their intersections glowing so brightly it was as if a nebula of green suns surrounded us. The real sun - the honest yellow sun we knew and loved - was being overwhelmed by these new, man-made stars.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no... Was that Alfie or me saying those words over and over again?

Both of us. Sunny... it's got to happen. It's necessary.

Oh shut up, you! Shut up!

Hold me, please. Alfie climbed up my plank-crutch and into my arms. I clasped him as closely to my heart as I possibly could, and waited. The grid-shapes jiggled and aligned themselves for a minute and a half while Alfie and I cowered and trembled in our inadequate shelter. Then they went out. Their job was done. The weapons were aligned. All that remained was to fire them.

I knew what came next, but I had not realised how loud the sound would be; how much it would throb and boom, how it would shake the earth bodily and make the stones of the hut rattle, and shake the loose plaster from the walls before pressing down hard on the ground. Everything around me - quiet and lifeless as it had been before - became utterly motionless. Any moment now...

The lightning fell. It crashed down from the dark sky in six simultaneous indigo shafts of dazzling brilliance. Six bolts of limitless violet fire descended from the quarters of the sky and converged on one single point - the apex of the Dome of Geneva. I was perhaps five miles away from the point of impact, so it was several seconds before I heard it - the roar of matter dissolving in incandescent fury. I saw it immediately. The centre of the Dome peeled back like an orange - forced skyward by the pressure of the superheated air beneath. Enormous blocks of concrete, laced with red-glowing molten threads of reinforcing steel, were hurled thousands of feet into the sky like the lava and ash from an erupting volcano. A column of fire leapt from the heart of the City - the Citadel itself, where Peter and Arthur had gone.

Get your head down!

No!

Alfie sunk his claws into my neck and I screamed aloud. My voice was lost in the growing thunder from the east as the flying detritus from the strike fell back against the remains of the Dome, crushing it beneath its weight. Still the eye-searing light from the orbital weapons continued. I blinked, but the brilliance of the plasma-bolts was imprinted on my helpless eyeballs in lines of red fire.

Look away! Remember Lot's wife!

No! I could not. I watched with the salt tears streaming down my face and soaking into my collar as the hateful beams of lethal force struck down the best friend I had ever known and blasted him to Dust and ashes.

And five seconds after they had begun the lightning-strikes flickered out and were gone. Twice I saw expanding clouds of flame in the sky as the orbiters which had launched this deadly assault on the earth exploded with the reflected power of their death-beams. Then silence fell once more, broken only by the continuing distant thunder of collapsing walls in the city and the crackle of the growing towers of flame which were rising from its ruined buildings.

I turned around at last and sat against the wall of the hut, rocking myself back and forth, weeping without any thought of stopping, crying Peter, O Peter, O Peter, over and over again. How must it have been for him? How could he have brought himself to operate the controls which had brought down so much destruction from the blackness of space? What was it like, to pull the lever that brought certain death to thousands and thousands of people? What kind of person was he - to end so many lives with a simple movement of his hand? Was he a devil; or a saint?

Peter, I told myself between tears and sobs, this has to be made worthwhile. All this death - it has to be made to mean something. If we don't make a better world out of what you have done today, it will all have been for nothing. Because I could have stopped you, if I'd wanted. I could have prevented it. I could have killed you, back in that hospital room. Arthur couldn't have saved you, if I'd decided that you were both wrong when you said that the only way to end the Church's dominance was to wipe it out at the source. Oh, how I hope you were right. How can I live with myself otherwise?

I was finding it hard to breathe. This is too much for me. I wish I'd never been born! Alfie - can we die now?

Sweetheart, no, said my daemon. No, because of everything you just said. This has to be made worthwhile. We have taken a terrible burden of guilt upon ourselves. We can only assuage that guilt by doing everything we can to ensure that the sacrifice of Peter and all those innocent people in Geneva leads to a better world, where fewer people die from starvation and poverty because of the Church's evil policies and where everybody gets an equal chance at life. And look! We've still got the Word of God. In the knapsack. See?

Yes. That's better. At least something's been saved from the wreckage. We can still free the Word. With my good right arm I opened the knapsack and burrowed down into it for the crystal globe which contained all the human knowledge that the Church had hoarded and misused. At last it would be free! This was the good thing that would come from the loss and destruction of the City and its people.

But as my hand came into contact with the glass ball a terrible suspicion crept into my mind. It was warm to the touch - too warm. Why was that so? I drew it out hurriedly and held it up in front of my face. My eyes were stinging and watering and I could still see the after-image of the lightning.

It was dead. The glass was crazed with many small fissures and it had become as black as pitch. A little smoke was escaping from its flat underside. The flashing red light was extinguished and the busy streets up and down which the ideas and thoughts of all the men and women, theologians and thinkers of the world had once thronged were as lifeless as the lost boulevards of Geneva. Just as Peter's alethiometer and Sony player had been damaged by the strike which had killed Capitaine Jacques Fourneaux, so the stray energies from the plasmas which had blown Geneva apart had burned out the Word of God.

Despair flooded over Alfie and me then and drowned us under its bitter waters. Everything was lost. All was come to nothing but ruination. I lay down and waited for someone to come and rescue me, if they could be bothered.

- 0 -

Perhaps I only dreamed. Perhaps the shock-haired girl, skinny-beautiful with a black-ink spiral drawn under one eye, did not come to usher me to the World of the Dead. It's quite possible that I didn't stand - filled with a sudden joy - and embrace her, my sister whom I hadn't known until then. Maybe there never was a Headmistress's study, with a desk behind which a winged figure sat and recorded the details of my life in a leather-bound book with creamy marbled endpapers. And it's no more than a distant likelihood that a little man, wearing a cheap suit and a felt cap, knocked quietly on the oaken door of the study and persuaded the girl and the harpy that my time was not come yet, that I still had work to do in the Worlds of Life and the greater world beyond, and that a golden-glowing figure who might have been an angel also appeared and supported the oracle's arguments, finally carrying the day.

As I say, probably I slept and possibly I dreamed. These are all maybes, not certainties. What is certain is that when a day or maybe two later a foraging party found me lying on the floor of the hut, they found I was alive - not dead as they had first supposed - and took me to a medical facility situated well behind the lines, so that when they removed the bandages and I was finally able to open my eyes it was to see Sister Moulson looking down at me with amused recognition.

'You! Driver Moon!' she said. 'I thought you were meant to be going home to England.'

'Please - may I?' I replied.