Her father’s man Goran was waiting for her in the hall of the Domain. His huge, pudgy hands were folded in front of him. When he smiled she felt every patch of her exposed skin prickle: shoulders, face, the small of her back. That same smile used to curl Goran’s lips each time he discovered the twins’ latest hiding place.
“Welcome home, Miss Rechnov.” His voice was as soft as ever.
“It’s not home,” she said.
“Home is where the heart is, isn’t that the Old World saying?”
Goran held out a hand to take her cape. She repressed a shudder as his fingers folded around its velvet weight. He led her up the main staircase, past her grandfather’s rooms, and up again. She was struck anew by the richness and secretiveness of the Domain. It corridors were low-lit and full of real wood. They passed alcoves housing shell lanterns, doors with ebony handles, Afrikan sculptures, chandeliers, paintings from Veerdeland and Alaska.
There were hidden passages too, crawling under and over other rooms like a subterranean maze. It was a mysterious place. Once it had been a magical place, but the twins had promised one another they would never set foot in it again. Adelaide had not been back in six years. She would never have answered this invitation if Vikram had not been there when it arrived. You’re not scared of them are you?
Of course not, she’d said haughtily. She could have said that the relationship between herself and her family was more complicated than simple fear or estrangement. That it was tied up with a history and a hatred of lies; that the bad blood between herself and her father could not affect her love for her grandfather, but neither could that love compel her to reconciliation; that of all the Rechnov children her mother had always and only adored Axel, and the Incident had only hardened her further against the rest of them; that Adelaide did not quite understand herself the tenuous links she had forged with Linus, and that all of the above was now tempered with far more frightening suspicions: she could not have said with certainty that any one of them was incapable of removing Axel to preserve the family name. She could not say this to Vikram. He did not have a family. The only person who understood the Rechnovs as Adelaide did was Tyr, and she could not tell Vikram that either.
In a passing mirror she glimpsed her reflection: pale skin in an emerald dress. Goran stepped quietly ahead, the third eye on the back of his neck watching her all the way. Every instinct was telling her to run. I’m not afraid, she told herself. I can do this.
At the greeting room, Goran moved aside, then put a hand on Adelaide’s back and propelled her through the door. Her skin crawled.
“Miss Adelaide Rechnov,” he announced.
Conversation died away as they all turned to look at her. A satin clad lady raised an eyeglass to inspect Adelaide more closely, her wispy brows knitted as she peered through the silver disk. One by one they came up. Some Adelaide recognized from childhood events, others were new recruits to the Rechnov clan. Each guest extended their arm, presenting the inner wrist upward so that she could press her own against it. Her wrist tingled horribly.
“Delighted to meet you at last.”
“My, how you’ve changed!” The woman with the eyeglass had pale gums and a quavery voice. “I remember you as a little girl, playing the Steinway at Viviana’s birthday. Such a sweet child.”
“She’s divine, Viviana.” A man spoke over her head. “Really, quite exquisite.”
Her mother came forward, placed her hands on Adelaide’s shoulders and dabbed her lips to each cheek. Adelaide smelt her cloying lavender scent. Viviana’s eyes were searching. It felt as though her mother were running a flannel over her face, softly the first time, but gradually peeling away layer after layer of skin until she unwrapped the flesh beneath.
“Welcome home, Adelaide,” Viviana said finally. There was something formidable about the easy elegance of Viviana’s stature. Adelaide was aware that side by side, they made everyone else in the room look plain, but there was no pleasure in the knowledge.
“Where’s Grandfather?” she asked.
“I’m afraid that he is unwell.” Feodor joined the growing throng around mother and daughter. “And unable to join us tonight. Adelaide.”
He put a hand on her waist and steered her towards the windows. The familiarity of the action unnerved her. Both of her parents were treating the situation as though she had just returned from a week-long holistic retreat in the northern quarter. She felt sweat forming under her dress.
Viviana approached, carrying a stained-glass container, the shape of a lantern, with a steepled lid. She placed the pot in Feodor’s hands. He removed the lid and handed it back. They exchanged subtle, not-quite smiles. The room hushed.
Feodor took a pinch of salt from the pot. He drew a deep, slow breath, then he flicked his wrist and scattered the salt. It was quiet enough to hear the grains skitter against the glass.
“To the dead,” said Feodor.
“To the dead,” the guests intoned solemnly. A theatrical shiver ruffled the room.
It was the melodrama that Adelaide despised above all. The way that everyone present conspired in the act, dressing it up as philanthropy, as though they were above such fundamental fears as ghosts at the window. Then they turned away, huddled over their grape-crushed wines.
Adelaide went to stand where the salt had fallen. Vikram had thrown a pinch over her shoulder earlier, to give her luck. She had met his eyes across the salt tin. Brown eyes should be warm, but Vikram’s eyes were too complicated for pure warmth. They swirled with other things, with sadness, and responsibility. She’d had a fleeting urge to take his face in her hands and tell him he must not be so sad, he must not let Osiris work its deep, malicious magic.
Did the ghosts feel abandoned by the salt ritual? Did it hurt them to be thrust away into the night? The windows gave no answers, only her flimsy reflection.
“Adelaide. Enchanted. My name’s Ukko.”
It was the man who had called her exquisite. He gave her a glass of grape-wine and started to talk about next year’s Council elections. He was running for a seat in Resources. She could tell by his pitch, nasal and overly confident, that he expected to get it. She sipped at the wine. She remembered the taste, rich and mellow, but sweet too, overly sweet, and she found that she no longer cared for it.
On the other side of the room, Tyr was engaged in discussion with Dmitri. They had to be careful tonight, more than usually careful, especially with Linus present. Her brother was chatting to Zakiyya Sobek. Her parents networked. Feodor’s most expansive smile was in place. Every now and then she sensed his surveillance, but there was no sign of the telltale tic. In fact, her father seemed remarkably at ease.
A nasty idea seeded in Adelaide’s mind. Was it possible that the twins’ great escape might have been less of an escape than she had believed? The Rechnovs had foreseen this day. They had let her and Axel go, always assuming that they would have to come back.
Viviana clapped her hands.
“And now, dinner!”
The guests murmured their appreciation as they entered the banquet hall, footsteps ringing out on the chequered floor. Feodor and Viviana took their places at the head of the oval table. Each place was laid with a symmetrical display of crystal and cutlery. Adelaide’s grandfather should have been opposite, but in his absence Dmitri took that chair. His fiancee, a banker, sat next to him. A chair was pulled out for Adelaide. She sat, strangely aware of the air and space at her back, the nebulous movements of the servers. She found herself directly facing Tyr.
They had first met at a banquet like this, weeks before she left. They kissed behind a tapestry, giggling, each caught by surprise. She had run at Tyr like any other obstacle, unafraid of implication or of consequence.
When she met his eyes he looked away.
A hand reached from behind her to fill her weqa glass. As the server continued around the table, the man on Adelaide’s left turned to her. He had greying hair and a hooked, distinctive nose. It was the Councillor of Estates, a man Feodor was no doubt eager to court.
“Delighted to meet you, m’dear,” he said. “Such a close family, you Rechnovs. I’m sure Feodor is delighted to have you back.”
What had Feodor told people?
The man complimented Adelaide on her bone structure.
“Nice to see a Rechnov girl. Great men in your family, of course, quite a line, but few women. Which would you prefer, a boy or a girl?”
Adelaide took a demure sip of weqa.
“I hear the abortion rate is very high these days,” she said.
The Councillor looked surprised, but nodded. “A valid fact. Pregnancy is a serious notion for any young woman.”
She was not sure whether he was hinting at her as a potential breeder, or trying to gauge her attitude to the practice. She offered no response. The Councillor tried again.
“I’m told you have a fascinating little outlet of your own on the outskirts. Do you ever find it lonely living with such a view?”
“I like my own company,” she said.
“If I might recall the popular saying, Miss Rechnov: a Rechnov dreamt the City, a Dumay built it, and an Ngozi lit it. I propose that you, Miss Rechnov, are a dreamer.”
She felt the hooks digging in. It would start here, over a five course dinner. The tug would start with tonight.
On her other side was the Councillor of Netting, a man it would also be useful for the Rechnovs to forge an alliance with. Since the population control laws were introduced twenty years ago, choosing a mate had become a matter of vital importance. She noticed that Tyr had been seated between two influential women. On his left was Zakiyya Sobek, and on his right was Hildur Pek, Councillor of Assessment, who had lost her husband in a shark attack many years ago and had formed an almost pathological obsession with the ring-net ever since. Feodor must be incredibly sure of Tyr’s loyalty to consider setting him up like that.
She turned her gaze to Linus. Did Feodor have anyone in mind for him? Linus was devoted to the Rechnov line, but he had independent political ideas which Feodor would prefer to curb, not least of all his anti-Nucleite stance. And Linus’s support for Vikram and the west had no doubt been a contentious subject in the domestic core.
“Guava dressing, Miss Rechnov?” The Councillor of Netting indicated the platter hovering beside them as though he had produced it personally.
“Thank you.”
She wanted to push her chair back and stretch out her legs, but not wishing to brush against either man, she kept her elbows in and her knees pressed together as she ate. The Councillor of Netting was discussing the state of the kelp forests with his neighbour-“It won’t be a good year for weqa, my dear”-whilst across the room, Hildur Pek had cornered Tyr with horror stories. Elsewhere, Adelaide overheard snippets about the educational syllabus. A small group including Linus were debating the relevance of taught history.
“-essential to have a world understanding-”
“But in the current climate, practical and sociological issues are far more important. Osiris must remain strong-”
“But informed.” That was her brother.
“What about the south? What about Tarctica… surely we should be considering…?”
“Still decades away.”
“And it could act as a terrible temptation. I mean, technically, we’re still under quarantine.”
“Precisely. Any eventual excursion would have to be heavily supervised-not to mention kept under wraps.”
“Personally, I believe quarantine is a technicality that should have been lifted years ago. The idea that it’s actually illegal to leave the City is absurd in this day and age, and as for the map ban, it’s quite simply ludicrous.” Linus was in argumentative mode. Adelaide wondered, suddenly, what he would have made of the balloon room.
“That law keeps people safe. We don’t have a seaworthy boat left in the City and everyone knows it. Start bandying Tarctica about and I tell you, people will be tempted to make rash decisions.”
“Then again, we do have a population problem. Maybe these futurists shouldn’t be disencouraged?”
“That’s a rather cynical view-you don’t really think?”
“Oh, of course not. Just a little gallows humour.”
Low laughter.
“Well, we’ve already got an issue with psychological containment trauma.” The voice was lowered but Adelaide just made out, “Everyone knows the-well, that particular rate is high enough already.”
The debate rescinded. Suicide was not a dinner party topic. The woman who had spoken flushed, aware of her mistake. Adelaide, remembering Radir’s last words to her, felt her own colour rising. Surely nobody else imagined Axel could have taken such a course?
The second course was brought out. Around the table, glasses chinked in private toasts and engraved cutlery scraped on plates. In Adelaide’s ear, the Councillor of Estates was praising her family’s architectural skill.
“I understand the Osiris Board never really considered anyone but Alexei Rechnov. And wisely so. Through his and your grandfather’s great work, the city has endured. And this residence is-quite spectacular.”
Grandfather calls it a house, Adelaide felt like saying, but she did not, because that was a personal piece of information. Tonight would be the only occasion that she had been in the Domain without her twin. He had always stood between her and them, fighting her fights, sharing the blame for her mistakes. There had been no mention of Axel. It was as if he had been whitewashed.
Adelaide’s hand shook as she cut into a rainbow-fish fillet. She put down the knife to hide it.
“Delicious,” said the Councillor of Estates. “Highly cunning of Feodor to slip this dinner in before the official ban goes through.”
“What ban?” she asked.
“Oh, you don’t know?” The Councillor looked pleased at this opportunity to repair Adelaide’s ignorance. “Rainbow-fish is on the danger list until the stocks rebuild. Along with a few of the bigger staples. We’ll all end up vegetarian by the end of it.” He gave her a wink. “Of course, there are ways around these little rules, if you know the right people. In fact, I sometimes hold soirees of my own. Nothing on this scale-just a few, intimate acquaintances.”
Adelaide turned to the Councillor of Netting on her other side. “When you said it is going to be a bad year for weqa, Councillor, did you mean, just the weqa? Or did you mean, the kelp harvest as a whole?”
Her voice, which carried clearly in the vault of the banquet room, was louder than she had intended. She saw Feodor glance in her direction. The Councillor of Netting looked uneasy, but rallied.
“There are always good years and not-so-good years, Miss Rechnov. That is a perfectly normal and healthy state of fluctuation. It may be one of our not-so-good years, but the next shall improve.”
“And with that and the new ban on certain fish stocks, do you anticipate food shortages this winter?”
“Not in my household,” murmured the Councillor of Estates.
“Supplies will be adequate,” said the Councillor of Netting firmly.
“Forgive me,” said Adelaide. “I’m something of an amateur in these matters, but wasn’t the last major crop shortage three years ago?”
“I believe it was, and, as you see Miss Rechnov, we survived to live another day.” He gave a little laugh.
“Yes,” she said. “It didn’t stop the riots, though.”
Now she saw the spots of colour in Feodor’s cheeks. The look he gave her this time was pure warning, but the Councillor of Netting had misunderstood her tone.
“I assure you, my dear, you have no need to fear for your safety. The Minister of Security has everything in hand, is that not the case, Ailia? Any hint of violence from the west shall be swiftly crushed.”
“But that’s the point, isn’t it? If the supplies were adequate, westerners wouldn’t feel the need to riot, would they?”
“I don’t think you quite understand, my dear,” said the Minister of Security kindly.
“I understand that three years ago, food supplies were stockpiled unnecessarily in the City and withheld from the west. Is that what’s going to happen this time?”
“You’ll have to forgive my daughter’s passion,” Feodor interrupted. “The west is her latest whimsy.”
“It’s not a joke-”
“Of course, of course, very admirable-and you have been championing that young man with the schemes, have you not? It’s an excellent cause.”
“He won’t fail.”
“Yes. Yes, well, we all hope for that.”
The words filled Adelaide with unexpected rage. I was at that address too! she wanted to shout. You weren’t all so complacent then.
“Perhaps you should take the west more seriously,” she said.
“I doubt anyone takes the west more seriously than the people in this room,” said Feodor. “After all, we all witnessed the scenes at the execution.”
Viviana, perhaps anticipating a showdown between father and daughter, clinked a spoon vigorously against her crystal glass.
“Goodness, aren’t we all bored of talking shop? I thought you ladies and gentlemen had enough of this political claptrap in the Chambers!”
Laughter and a few claps echoed her regaling, and Feodor’s brow relaxed as the servers stepped forward to clear away. He needs her, Adelaide thought. He needs my mother back on form and she appears to have gained it. Viviana was talking now to the Minister for Finance-a big coup at a dinner party-motioning to a server to refill their glasses, nodding with intense interest whilst half an eye skimmed the rest of the table.
The mourning period is done, she thought. Was that what she had come to find out?
Feodor stood, raising a glass of rich, golden weqa.
“Ladies and gentlemen, before we enjoy our next course, a few words, if I may. Tonight is a special night for myself and Viviana. We are delighted to have our daughter Adelaide back with us.” Viviana inclined her head, the picture of modest support. Feodor’s eyes rested upon Adelaide. She could read the duality, even if the rest of them could not: tension in the jaw, tolerance masking reprimand. Now mention Axel, she pleaded silently. Say just one thing.
“I had long hoped to lure her into the mysteries of politics and cannot overstate my joy that someone else has achieved this seemingly impossible conversion. Of course-” Feodor’s gaze roamed the room, a wink of humour now present. “I had hoped we would have similar objectives. We teach our children the art of independent thought and what does it beget us?” Laughter from the guests. Adelaide’s hands clenched under the table. “What can I say. We must give them their heads. Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues-a toast. To those that follow, and the great City that we bequeath them. May they too guard Osiris with a watchful eye and a strong heart.”
“To those that follow,” the table echoed.
“And to those who cannot,” murmured a voice. It came from Hildur Pek, whose eyes, no doubt in memory of her own loss, were wet. Hildur’s words accomplished what Feodor’s had not. Adelaide’s vision was no longer clear. As the servers re-entered the banquet hall, she stood up, muttered an excuse to the Councillor of Estates, and left the room.
Behind the closed door the noise of the diners faded. She held her wrist against her eyes and blinked quickly, catching the moisture before it could smudge her make-up. Closing her eyes, she drew long breaths.
“Are you alright?”
It was Tyr. She averted her face. She could not look at him.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Feodor sent me.”
“That’s ironic.” Not quite as ironic as Feodor’s speech, embracing one delinquent child as he erased another. In sudden anger she said, “How can you stand it?”
He cupped her face, turned it gently towards him. “I have to work, Adie. I’m not like you. I don’t come from a great family.”
“You’re part of one now. One way or another. Aren’t you glad?”
“In some ways,” he said soberly.
She knew she should draw away but found herself pushing into his hand. When she spoke her lips moved against his palm.
“Cover for me? Ten minutes and I’ll be gone.”
“Is that wise? Your being here tonight is an olive branch to Feodor. It will be worse than reversed if you leave now.” His grey eyes were concerned.
“Tyr,” she pleaded.
“Alright,” he said softly.
She kissed his palm and felt him tense. They stood there in the empty lamplit hallway, equally aware of the currents conflicting one another. Their situation was what it was; she had never thought of it as unjust, because she could not imagine permanence with anyone, not even with Tyr. The heat of her own breath came back to her lips, trapped by his palm. Why was tonight different? She felt close to giving up. She was ready to ask. Let me come over later, let me stay. I don’t care if they find out.
Tyr dropped his hand.
“Better go,” he said.
The words she might have said edged away. She took off her shoes and ran. She did not look back. Vikram had fastened the shoes earlier, when her hands were shaking. He had sat her on the bed and said give in a voice that brooked no argument. Watching his hands do up the buckles, one part of her mind had warned that this was not part of the bargain; it was not sex and it was not information. It was something else.
She ran to the end of the hallway. Heaved the doors open. The floor was slippery in her stockings. She passed the drapes, the alcoves, the Alaskan paintings. Old friends, old enemies. Here was a favourite hiding place, there a tunnel exit where the twins had been caught, Adelaide’s sandal sticking out under the curtain. Goran found them. He always did. He grabbed her foot and hauled her shrieking into the corridor whilst Axel hung onto her arms, Adelaide screaming, Axel yelling, no, don’t, don’t hurt her!
Goran would be loitering nearby. She picked up speed down the galleries. She couldn’t let him catch her. An archway neared on her right. A silk curtain sighed in its frame. Flouting all reason, her feet slowed. Behind that curtain was a passage to the twins’ old bedrooms. The twins thought they had discovered all the secrets of the Domain, but what if they hadn’t? What if the family had Axel right here, under her nose? What if he was straitjacketed, sedated, unable to call out?
Close to the ground, the silk wavered. Adelaide’s heart beat faster. The swelling folds gave way to the triangular head of a large orange cat. Its nose wrinkled as it sniffed the air. She sighed.
“Oh, you.”
Out of habit, she scooped the animal up, hugging it awkwardly with one arm, her shoes gripped in the other hand. The cat was warm and heavy; it had grown fat. The feel of its soft fur alleviated her panic. Now she felt silly to have been running, silly for her ideas. What could the family do to her, anyway? She wasn’t mad.
They reached the second floor unscathed. There was a strip of light under the door of her grandfather’s study. Quietly, Adelaide turned the handle. Leonid was in his favourite armchair. He wore a tartan dressing gown over his flannel trousers and his bare feet were propped up on a stool. A book lay open on his lap. His spectacles had slipped down the bridge of his nose.
She lowered the cat to the floor and gave it an encouraging nudge. It stalked inside. She pulled the door gently back. Soon, someone would come to look for her. Goran was patrolling. She could not stay.
“Who is it?”
She paused, the door ajar. “Feodor said you weren’t well.”
Her grandfather’s eyelids lifted. “Adie?” A smile pulled his lips back from his teeth. “My back’s been playing up a little, that’s all. I have some injections for when it gets difficult.”
“You mean morphine,” she said accusingly. His face had lost weight; the papery skin stretched taut over the egg of his head. “It must be bad.”
“I don’t need them often.” He patted the arm of the chair. “Why don’t you come and sit a minute.”
She curled her fingers around the door frame, reluctant to enter when she had been about to make her escape. Then she came in, shutting the door behind her. The room had not altered. It still smelt of tobacco and pine cones; it was still crowded with blueprints and piano scores.
Adelaide glanced to the piano in the corner, which her grandfather had played often when she was a child and less often as she grew older and his hands grew arthritic. The cat had slumped upon the stool. Its stomach began to rise and fall in contented waves of purrs.
“I’m amazed he’s still alive,” she said.
“I think he will outlive me,” her grandfather replied.
She went to sit at the foot of the armchair.
“You should renounce the rest of the family, Grandfather.” She tilted her head back, smiling. “Hiding out here, complaining of back pain… I think you’re trying to escape.”
He chuckled.
“It is the duty of the young to rebel. I am too old for all that, Adie. I need my pipe, and a good bottle of octopya.” He gestured to the table. “Perhaps you will do the honours.”
She prepared two measures of liqueur. Her grandfather inhaled deeply before taking a sip. Adelaide nestled her glass between her knees. She had always loved this room. It felt both old and ageless. A thing treated with attentive care. A thing from a time before Osiris. Now the room seemed smaller too, or herself too large for it.
“This house is my bequest to you all,” said her grandfather softly. “But you, Adie. I know what the Domain means to you. You feel as though you have surrendered your agency. You prefer to live in a cage of your own making rather than one designed by somebody else. Tell me, what brings you here tonight?”
The heater was warm on her face and neck. “I don’t know, Grandfather. It’s a peace gesture, isn’t it. And partly for information-Vikram thought it would be useful. And… Axel. I suppose I thought it might help, to come back.”
“Did you?”
She fell silent.
“You don’t believe Axel is dead,” he said.
Careful, she thought. She realized then how far she had come. This was her grandfather who she loved and trusted.
“I don’t feel that he is,” she said. “In my heart.”
“Sanjay Hanif will find out. He is a good man.”
“So everyone says.”
The marmalade cat woke, arched its back so that all of the hairs separated along its spine, and hopped off the stool. It regarded Adelaide with blank eyes. She stroked its head automatically.
“I find it hard to believe that the boy would go away without any communication to you, Adie. Even through his delirium, he was aware that there was someone he should remember.”
“You saw him after Radir’s last session, didn’t you?”
“Yes. That was the last visit I made and he was very secretive. There was one room in the apartment which was locked. Axel did not respond when I asked him what was inside. Now, I think perhaps he was planning something.”
Oh, he was. He was.
“I should have gone,” she said. “I just-I couldn’t.”
“You took care of him in other ways.” He paused. “The bond between you twins was so strong, a break was bound to be dramatic. If he had regained his mind, I suspect the reunification would have been as abrupt.”
She imagined the scene: Axel’s return, healthy, jubilant. But almost at once another image replaced it: Axel in a balloon, at the heart of a storm, flung this way and that. Her grandfather packed another layer of tobacco into his pipe and lit it.
“Bring me the photograph, Adelaide.”
She knew at once which photograph he meant and went to get it from a drawer in the cabinet. The image was faded with age but the construct was still clear: a man, a woman and a small child standing in front of a huge stone building. The building was hewn out of a mountain, and the mountain rose upward in striates of grey and green.
Leonid held the photograph in both hands.
“Do you know where this was taken?”
“Yes, grandfather. That’s the Osiris Facility, in Patagonia.”
“I was born in that town. For a few years, the whole of our family lived there whilst the City was under construction. Imagine it Adie, to see the pyramids rising from the sea for the first time-what a sight that must have been!”
Adelaide leaned on the arm of Leonid’s chair, resting her chin upon her hands.
“I wish I could have seen it.”
“As do I. As do I… but much of the footage was lost. A great tragedy. I often wonder how they first found the site, those entrepreneurs of the Board. There were old sea maps, of course, but even then, navigation was almost impossible. The sea was ravenous. The winds were wild. Instruments ran haywire, driven mad by all the broken currents in the atmosphere-oh, it must have been an adventure, Adie. But they found it-the fabled Atum Shelf.”
A wistful expression occupied his face and Adelaide knew that he was seeing those strange, wonderful visions from decades ago. The cat’s purrs reverberated against her legs, a warm, steady rhythm that reminded her of time moving on. But she could not tear herself away. Not yet.
“Tell me more about Patagonia, Grandfather.”
“Ah, Patagonia… it was a beautiful place. Yes, I remember land. I remember the rocks, especially. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Of course, even then the storms were terrible and pirates were forever raiding the local towns. My grandparents died there, they were too nervous to take to sea. So they never saw Osiris. But I believe they were happy, and proud.”
He pushed the photograph abruptly towards Adelaide.
“All those people will be dead now,” he muttered.
“But some of the refugees must have come from Patagonia?”
“They came from everywhere, Adie, everywhere. Every place was destroyed. You’ve been taught all of this.”
“Yes, I know.”
He passed a hand over his face. Adelaide put the photograph back, afraid that it was distressing him. She regretted now that she had kept him talking.
“You still miss Second Grandmother, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“Every day. I miss a lot of things, Adie.”
“Land?”
“Land, yes. The things that were… the things that should have been.”
She waited, aware that there was more, not wishing to rush him. The pipe clacked between his teeth.
“Osiris was an experiment,” he said. “To herald a new era. Osiris was meant to reunite nations in a way that had long been lost. To bring the hemispheres together again. That was the intention.” He was silent for a moment. “But the world changed too quickly to see if it worked. And the City has changed because of that.”
She looked at him, not understanding. He said, “Your generation is the evidence of it.”
The words were gentle, but without comfort. Adelaide felt as though he was trying to explain something to her, something important, but he wanted her to work out what it was for herself. She was ashamed to ask; to confirm her ignorance.
“I should leave before Feodor finds me here,” she said.
“Come and visit again some time.”
She crouched, and took her grandfather’s mottled hand.
“You could always visit me.”
He chuckled. “At your fancy apartment? I hope you are enjoying it, by the way. But no. I can keep an eye from afar. I follow your adventures rather avidly in the feed of-what is it, that rag-the Daily Flotsam.”
“Magda Linn.”
“That’s the woman. She has a void where some of us have a semblance of moral integrity. One has to admire her for it.”
“Admire, and destroy,” said Adelaide, standing. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “I really must go.”
Leonid’s hand curled around hers, holding it fast. The joints were swollen. They looked painful.
“Before you go,” he said. “I would like you to promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“You’re a smart girl. Young, impulsive. You must be wise as well. Don’t be too quick to judge, when the time comes. Don’t be too quick to judge me.”
“Why would I judge you, Grandfather?”
He squeezed her hand with his trembling one.
“Adelaide.” Her name alone seemed to cost him a great effort. She was startled to see the change in his expression-as though he were abruptly battling great pain.
“Grandfather, do you need the morphine? Where is it?”
The words rushed out of him.
“Adie, the truth is this family has done some terrible things. Terrible things.”
“Do you mean the execution, is that it? You mean the west?” Her heart pounded. “Axel?”
Leonid shook his head, impatiently. Still clinging to Adelaide’s hand, he pulled her very close. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I have to tell you something, Adie. I have to tell you. There was a boat. Years and years ago. Long before you were born. But after-after the Silence. There was a boat.”
A tingling sensation spread from Adelaide’s scalp, to her neck, one by one down her vertebrae. When she spoke, she struggled to keep her voice steady.
“I don’t understand. There were no boats after the Silence. There was no contact.”
There couldn’t have been.
“That’s what they all think. But there was one. It came many miles-an inconceivable feat of seafaring! They had been at sea for over two hundred days. And they got almost as far as the ring-net. And then-everyone on board-every one of them-killed! Shot in the dark. The boat was sunk, out beyond the Atum Shelf. We couldn’t let them go. We couldn’t bring them in. It was a great secret, d’you see, a secret. No-one can ever know about that boat. No-one. No-one can find out.”
He’s starting to ramble, she realized. He’s old. He’s old, and his imagination is bringing dark things into the room. That’s what it is. It must be. And yet “Where was the boat from, Grandfather?”
There was an almost cunning look about the old man now.
“The Boreal States,” he whispered. “From Siberia. They came to look-”
A cough seized his throat.
“Grandfather.” Her own voice was trembling now. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Nothing more to tell.” He coughed. “Nothing but the white-”
His eyes bulged. Adelaide ran to get him a glass of water. She held it to his lips, but the coughs still hacked at his throat, and he could not swallow.
“I’ll get someone-”
“No.” He grabbed her wrist. “No-no.” The fit subsided. He drank a little water. The gulps resounded in the room. The cat’s purrs grew stronger. “Nothing but the white fly,” Leonid muttered.
“You’re talking in riddles, Grandfather. What is the white fly?”
He interrupted. “No, that’s not important. Not what I meant to say at all. What I meant to say is, whatever our family has done, they would not hurt Axel. No one would ever hurt your brother. Believe that, if you believe nothing else.” His face was open again; relaxed and smiling. She could not quite believe that the last couple of minutes had been real.
Leonid tapped her hand. “Goran is upstairs. I know his tread. Go now, Adie, if you don’t want them to find you.”
“But the boat-”
“What boat? What are you talking about?” He looked confused. “Remember, my girl, my darling girl. No decision is lightly undertaken. Reversal is-impossible.”
“I’ll remember.” She was worried and frightened, and wanted to say more, but there seemed no conceivable response. She doubted her own sanity. She needed to get out. “I promise. Goodbye, Grandfather.”
She checked there was nobody in the corridor outside before shutting the door behind her. She was no closer to finding out what had happened to Axel; if he had left or if he had been taken. And now, it appeared, there were other secrets that her grandfather wanted her to know-secrets, if he was to be believed, too terrible to speak. Secrets that had walked the deepest trenches of his mind for years, the way cantering horses had followed Axel across the waves.
There was no sign of Goran.
Barefoot, Adelaide ran down the staircase. The Domain was quiet, as though it awaited a long overdue arrival. Or a departure, she thought.
“Axel?” she whispered. Her voice echoed back at her: Axel Axel Axel Axel. She called again, louder.
“Axel!”
Nothing. She stepped out of the front door and was faintly surprised, as always, to find the lift before her. The cables clunked. The glass car began to rise. Adelaide slipped on her shoes, leaving the straps undone. She had a terrifying sense of things diminishing. A pan of events from before her time receding into the distance, like stills from an archive reel being blotted out: pixel by pixel, image by image. At the very end, last to disappear, was a tiny Siberian boat.