Celia had been asleep for a long time. They had
appeared in a wide grassy plain and almost immediately she had had to stop to
sleep; the combined effect of the translocations and the adail had taken their toll.
Owen had tried
very hard to stay awake; he thought it unwise for them both to be unconscious
at the same time, but he too was too weary to prevent himself from dropping
off. They lay together in the sea of grass.
It seemed like only a second later that he
woke with a start. Something was wrong. What was it? He stood up and peered
across the plain. All he could see was grass. He wondered whether there was
really anywhere in the world where there was only grass and absolutely nothing
else to see. He scanned the horizon in vain for a boulder, a hillock, even a
cow.
He bent down and
looked at the sward. The grass was fine, just typical green blades, but under it
there was nothing; just a glassy top, like the surface of a billiard ball. The
grass just lay over that surface – there were no roots at all. Owen found it
hard to believe that there was any grass that could grow without roots and
without soil. He sat down and whispered ‘chlytiau’; he conjured
a thaumic square out of the air. It was completely colourless, jet back and yet
somehow totally transparent. It was a logical impossibility. That had never
happened before. But he knew what it meant. They had gone through the wrong
portal.
As if on cue,
Celia woke. She sat bolt upright and shouted out.
‘A piece of paper,
quickly…’
Owen was startled
into action. He dropped the square into his shoulder bag, then scrabbled around
in it. He fished out a notebook and a
pencil. He lunged it towards her. She shook her head wildly.
‘No – you write this down…’
He nodded his head
equally vigorously.
‘Make for the Green Isle of Hoy. Sail to it from the
east, round it twice anticlockwise on the north side, and then bear due south
for a day. Don’t be distracted by anything’
His
hand was a flurry as he copied her words. She stopped for a second and then
blurted out
‘Kratos’s
hidden island – that’s where it is’
‘What?’ .
‘Viola told me –
in our dream’
Owen glanced down
at the grass – he was desperate to tell her what he had just found out, but now
was clearly not the time.
‘Who’s Viola?’ he
asked instead.
‘She’s from Ortia
– she’s a friend of Laurence’s…They were in Melloreis together’
‘The Proconsul’s
spy?’
‘Yes…’
Owen looked into
her eyes. Was she cracking up? There was no clue in her stare, which was bright
and eager.
‘But how?’
She quailed under
his gaze.
‘I’m not sure. It
seemed so clear a few moments ago. But the dream is escaping from me. She was
there and we had to find… something…’
He took hold of
her hands.
‘Where is this
meant to be...? I mean, the Green Isle
of Hoy? I’ve never heard of it. Perhaps it was just a bad dream?’
He could see her
struggle with the receding spring tide of her memory.
‘It’s in…’ she
began, ‘…No, that’s too far back; the trickster told me. But who can believe
him?’
‘C. I think it was
just a restless dream. I can’t make sense of what you’re saying’
She sighed deeply
and burrowed her face in his shoulder. Owen held her, unsure of what to say
next.
‘Just don’t lose
the notebook’ she muttered, ‘even if it you think that it is nonsense’
They remained
entangled for a long time, but slowly the need to tell her his news grew in his
mind.
He pulled away from her.
‘We’ve not gone
home’ he whispered. She smiled hopefully.
‘Well, this could
be Eth, couldn’t it?’
He shook his head
sadly.
‘This is some sort
of approximate space, an experiment perhaps. All there is here is four
dimensions and some grass.’
He knelt down and
pulled some grass out of the ground. It came away as easily as toy grass stuck
in a block of wood.
‘Look’ he said
She knelt next to
him and placed her hand on the bare patch.
‘That’s really
odd’
‘It’s not real’ he
said, ‘something very strange is going on. I think it’s an exceptionally boring
sort of parallel universe’
She looked up at
him, admiration and doubt mingled in her gaze.
‘How can you know
that?’
He slipped his
hand inside his bag and pulled out the thaumic square.
‘There’s no colour’
he explained
She studied the
square blankly.
‘Now you’re the
one making no sense…’
His hand dropped
to his side. He attempted to explain.
‘It’s like Katy’s
water trees. Every part of the real world has a thaumic colour – a hue; often,
as you’ve seen, a shade of grey or green – this is nothing; just a blank space’
He handed the
square to her and she turned it over in her fingers. There was something
strange about it, something vaguely revolting.
‘I see’ she
murmured, ‘this has no power at all’
‘It’s a simulacrum’ he said, ‘a mock-up; a model of
magic’
She handed it back
to him and he put it back into his bag carefully. She watched him for a moment
and then stood up.
‘Perhaps we should have a walk around’ she
suggested, ‘Maybe there is something else here other than grass…’
They wandered
around for a while, with no sense of direction, as there was no way of
assessing where they were; there wasn’t even an obvious source of sunlight –
just a general, diffuse, lighting.
‘Let’s put your
bag down’ suggested Celia, ‘and see how far we can walk away from it’
Owen put his
weaver’s bag down and they walked as far distant from it as they dared. Then
they walked back and tried a direction at right angles to it. The result was
the same. In whatever direction they walked there was artificial grass as far
they could see. Celia stood looking over at the bag from the last cardinal
distant point that they tried. She pointed out further across the green
plain.
‘I’ll stand here,
where I can still see the bag, and you walk as far away as you can from me.
Let’s see if we can get to the end of this bloody grass’
Owen nodded. Celia
pointed away from the bag and he walked in the direction that she indicated. He
stopped when he could only just see her. He really didn’t want then to lose
each other again.
‘All exactly the
same’ he shouted. There was a short pause and then his voice repeated, but this
time she heard it from the opposite direction. Celia was puzzled.
‘Say something
else’ she shouted.
There was another
pause. Then she heard her voice repeating, as if from a long way off. She
turned and looked back on beyond the bag.
‘Why are you
repeating yourself? He yelled
‘I’m not’ she
whispered, smiling to herself. It was like they were in some strange
acoustically-challenged cave.
‘Keep walking in
the same direction’ she yelled. She didn’t wait for the echo this time. She
stood still and looked backwards and forwards along the line that he had been
walking.
After about a
minute she could see two Owens – both almost dots, but both clearly him. She
sighed, partly satisfied with her application of logic, and partially appalled
by what it meant. She walked back to the
bag. They met a few minutes later.
‘Bounded space’ he
concluded, ‘not only boring but also tiny. This isn’t looking good…’
‘Stupid place to
get stuck, O’ she said, gently. She kissed him on the forehead.
‘Why aren’t you
worried?’ he asked
She laughed.
‘Compared with
where I’ve been this looks like a doddle. And, we’re together’
He smiled, but was
unconvinced. He sat down next to his bag.
‘Someone has made
this’ he said,
‘Someone?’ she
asked, ‘how? I mean, who? A god?’
‘I don’t know’ he
said, uncertainly, ‘can the gods make space and time?’
She shook her head
and frowned.
‘I have no idea…’
They sat in
silence for a while. Owen’s eyes were on the ground. She took his hands in
hers. She looked down at his worried face.
‘If someone made
this then they probably have a way in and out. I just have to find it’ he said
She nodded. She
still didn’t look all that concerned.
‘Well, if you’re
stupid enough to get us into this, my love, then you’re surely clever enough to
get us out again’
‘Fingers crossed…’
‘All I know is
that we absolutely have to get out of here’ she said, ‘and do you know why, in
particular?’
‘Why?’ he asked.
She gripped his
hands very tightly.
‘Because we have a
dream girl to make’
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