Carol stepped behind Nik’s taller, heavily clothed bulk. He moved to stand squarely in front of her, so his body would block her from the sight of anyone standing near the World Tree. With Nik shielding her, it was easy enough for her to work her way backward among people who were all focused on the ceremony. No one gave her more than a glance and she kept her face down, hoping thus to make identification more difficult. If it came to that; if the guards commander demanded to know who she was. At the thought of confronting the man dread blossomed anew within her, along with a premonition of coming horror. There was no time to dwell on such thoughts. Her immediate aim was to get out of the square.
She reached the corner of the square. Marlowe House lay half a block away on her left. In Carol’s imagination the house beckoned to her, promising a safety she was not willing to seek. If she were being watched, the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to the house where Nik and his friends lived. A street opened before her, leading away from the square. It headed westward and Carol took it. The crowd thinned out as she put more distance between herself, the World Tree, and the ceremony taking place at the foot of the Tree.
By now she was fairly sure the guards commander would not know where she had gone, but she wanted to stay well away from Marlowe House for a while. And, she reminded herself, she would have to be extremely careful not to be seen by the commander a third time. There was something about the way he looked at her with his cold, almost mechanical gaze that sent chills along her spine. Her every instinct told her the commander was a man who would listen to no excuses and who would show no mercy.
It was growing darker by the minute. The ceremony must be completed by now. This supposition on Carol’s part was confirmed by the number of people who began to hurry past her. They all wore a deflated, post-holiday air about them that was much like the after-Christmas letdown she had noticed on the faces of people in her own time.
Carol had always felt superior to those sad souls. Since she did not believe in celebrating Christmas and expected nothing from the day, she was never disappointed by a lack of holiday cheer in her own life, and thus the days immediately following the end of the festive season were the same to her as any other day of a monotonous year.
Now she was sorry for the poorly dressed, shivering folk who were wending their way homeward through the steadily increasing cold. Furthermore, she was aware of a sense of kinship with them. She was as haphazardly attired as any of the people around her, and she was shivering, too.
She picked up her pace, wanting to lose herself in the anonymity of the growing throng pouring out of the square. Since the official celebrants and the civil guards apparently used only one route for their processions to and from the World Tree, Carol did not think she would be followed along this other street, but it seemed a good idea to try to make herself appear to be just as dejected as everyone else at the end of the holiday. Not having any real destination in mind, she continued on toward the west.
After a while she noticed that the press of people around her was thinning out as men and women turned off the main road and into smaller streets and alleys.
“Better get out of the way,” cautioned a man who brushed by her with a child in his arms. “Here come the guards. You don’t want to be caught blocking their path.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t paying attention.” Quickly Carol followed the man into a dark side street.
“You lost?” the man asked, not pausing in his rapid stride when he glanced at her through the shadows.
“I took the wrong street out of the square,” Carol said. “After the guards go by I’ll head back again. I’m sure I can find my way home.”
“Just be careful of the guards, and get indoors as soon as you can. You know how tough they can be on stragglers after a holiday ends.”
“Right. Thanks again.” Carol watched the man and his child fade into the darkness and disappear. Wanting no meeting with the civil guards, she took his warning to heart and waited, pressed tight against the side of a building, until the sound of tramping, booted feet passed away into the darkness. On returning to the wider street she saw how few people remained on it. Making a hasty decision she hurried across this street.
Reasoning that if she periodically located the broad street she knew, it would keep her on course even in the bewildering darkness, she began to work her way back toward Marlowe House along narrower, secondary streets which would offer better shelter than the main road to anyone who wanted to stay out of sight.
She had reckoned without the winding alleys and the dead-end mews. Certain sections of London had undergone great changes in one hundred seventy-five years. The main thoroughfares might be the same, but the side streets once so familiar to her had been bombed out and rebuilt several times before the last bout of general destruction. Ruined buildings and the inevitable heaps of broken stone and brick impeded her progress. The twists and turnings she was forced to take around these obstacles were confusing her sense of direction. She was sure several hours must have elapsed since she had left Nik, and she knew he would be worrying about her.
At last admitting she was lost, Carol decided her best option was to continue in what she by now could only hope was the right direction and pray that she would soon come upon a familiar landmark. In the meantime, though being careful would slow her down, she would have to try to keep out of sight. In one way, it would be easy enough to do. There was almost no one abroad to notice her. On the other hand, if any of the civil guards came along they would see her at once and she would be arrested.
“I hate this,” she muttered under her breath. “I used to walk all over this part of London without worrying about meeting policemen. Then, I thought of the police as friends and protectors of honest citizens. What a disgusting world this has become. And if I don’t get back to Marlowe House soon, Nik will be so upset. My absence might even cause him to delay the beginning of his plan. Where in this messed-up city is Marlowe House? Oh, at last!”
This exclamation burst from her as she walked into an open square. Almost immediately she saw it was not the square she sought. Here, the houses were not damaged. There were no piles of rubble for her to pick her way around, but instead a smoothly paved street. The square itself contained no World Tree. What Carol saw was a collection of large vehicles parked in neat rows filling up most of the open space. Each of these machines looked as if it could transport six or eight people comfortably.
“Limousines,” Carol said, peering through a windshield to look inside one of them. “Not exactly like the twentieth-century version, but so luxurious they couldn’t be anything else.”
It did not take much guesswork to discover the reason why so many limousines were parked in one place. In one of the fine houses fronting the square there was a party in progress.
After ducking behind a car so she would not be seen, Carol made a quick survey of the area. There was a bonfire at the side of the square most distant from her, and around the blaze a group of men stood or sat. From their neat outfits in various dark colors, very different from ordinary clothing, these men appeared to be the chauffeurs of the parked limousines, awaiting the call to drive their employers home at the end of the evening. They had a good supply of food and drink available, and were talking and singing rather loudly. A half-dozen men in the brown uniform of the civil guards kept a casual watch on them.
Unlike the neighborhood around Marlowe House, here there was electricity. The square was well lit by ornate street lamps and every house blazed with light. Directly in front of Carol was the mansion in which the party was being held. Through the wide front windows she could see people moving about inside. Curiosity making her bolder, she lifted her head to look over the top of the car.
That the rooms inside the house were warm was obvious from the clothing worn by the women present. Sheer, gauzy gowns revealed arms and throats and, in several cases, great expanses of snowy bosoms. All the women flaunted glittering earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, and tiaras. The men were adorned with heavy, jeweled gold or silver chains over their costumes of tunics and tight trousers, and their hands were glittering with colorful rings. After days of seeing only dark and tattered garments on everyone she met, Carol’s eyes were briefly dazzled by the many bright colors confined within the silk-covered, gilt-trimmed walls of that room.
People were still arriving. The front door of the mansion was wide open to admit the guests, though a pair of uniformed guards stood on the step, keeping a sharp watch on all who entered. Trying to see better, Carol changed her position, creeping along the side of one of the parked cars, keeping her head low when a new set of headlights swung into the square.
The occupant of the newly arrived limousine was the Leader, Fal, who had been at the Solstice ceremonies. Fal climbed out of the car somewhat awkwardly. He was still wearing the unbecoming bright green tunic and trousers in which he had attended the late afternoon ceremony, but in the interval since then he had added several heavy gold chains around his neck, each chain bearing a jeweled medallion. At the Leader’s appearance, the civil guards at the entrance all snapped to attention—and jumped again when the second person in the car alighted. This man was plainly dressed in a brown uniform and no extra adornments. Recognizing the commander of the civil guards, the very man she least wanted to meet, Carol quickly lowered her head. Almost immediately, compelled by a terrible fascination, she once again peered over the hood of the car behind which she was hiding.
In contrast to Leader Fal’s short roundness, the commander was tall and slim. His uniform, combined with his pale face and starkly slicked-back brown hair, made him look to Carol’s eyes like a dangerous thug. It horrified her that out of all the streets in ruined Lond, she should have fled away from him to the one place where he would be. There seemed to her to be some unearthly design in this near meeting. Nor was her apprehension eased by the conversation she now overheard.
“Come on, Drum,” she heard Leader Fal say to the commander in a querulous voice. “I have repeatedly told you, there is nothing to be concerned about. It is just a rumor, and we have heard many rumors of possible trouble before this. None of them have meant anything. Neither does this rumor. Put extra guards on the streets and then forget it.”
“I know every person in that area by sight,” the man called Drum responded. “Yet twice I have spotted a stranger there. What does it mean?”
“It probably means,” said Leader Fal, “that someone invited a country cousin to the city for the holiday. I will wager every chain I am wearing that you never see your mysterious stranger again.”
“I have learned to trust my instincts,” Commander Drum insisted. “First a persistent rumor, and then someone out of place, someone who evokes a most violent reaction in my heart.”
“I didn’t know you had a heart.” Leader Fal laughed in an insinuating way. “Tell me, was this stranger a man or a woman?”
“What difference does that make?” Commander Drum snarled, displaying a remarkable lack of respect for his Leader. “I recognize trouble when I encounter it and I tell you, I have twice in two days smelled trouble in that square.”
“And I tell you, we can easily handle any problem that may arise. Now, will you kindly allow me to attend the party being given in my honor? Really, Drum, you are worse than those womanish priests. The people are well subdued and will remain where they belong— at the bottom of our social ladder. They have their little entertainments and I have done my part on their behalf on this day. Now I want to relax.”
“If you are wise,” said Commander Drum, “you will never relax your vigilance.”
“No, no, Drum,” Fal corrected him. “Vigilance is your task. Mine is to lead.”
Still grumbling at each other, the two men climbed the steps, where the guards stood at stiff attention until they entered the house. They left Carol desperate with fear, for she had finally recognized Commander Drum. It was little wonder she had not done so before. His face was greatly changed from that of the man she had once known and, in her youthful innocence, believed she loved. But in his cold and disrespectful attitude toward Leader Fal and in the flat blankness of his eyes, Carol had just seen the spirit of the man she had hoped never to meet again.
Robert Drummond. She did not think he had seen her just now, but all the same, Carol began to tremble as if the man were deliberately pursuing her across the centuries.
She now had serious cause to fear for Nik and for her friends at Marlowe House. She was not surprised to hear from his own lips confirmation that she had been noticed by Commander Drum, but she was deeply disturbed to learn that there were rumors circulating about trouble in the immediate future. She did not think anyone in Nik’s group would betray him by accident or by deliberate plan, but she did not know the people in the other groups who were to join Nik and his friends. It was possible that someone, having taken too much strong drink during the Solstice celebrations, had let slip a word too much about the scheduled uprising.
Carol knew she ought to leave the square at once and try to locate Marlowe House as quickly as possible so she could warn Nik. But first she wanted to see if she might learn anything more. Carefully she worked her way forward until she crouched behind the car nearest to the windows of the mansion. Another pair of late arrivals was at the door, diverting the attention of the guards, and the men at the far side of the square were paying no heed at all to the partygoers. Carol stood up and craned her neck to see inside the house.
In the warm, gilt-decorated room a band of musicians was playing a tune she could not hear. There were flowers everywhere, huge vases of them set on the floor and towering six feet high and other, smaller vases placed on tables or on chests. In one corner of the room potted palms and miniature trees were arranged around a splashing fountain of white marble. Within this artificial bower a few guests strolled, talking and laughing and, occasionally, pausing to exchange lengthy kisses and the sort of caresses that are usually reserved for more private places.
“And Marlowe House gets one hour per day of running water,” Carol growled angrily, glaring at the fountain.
Elsewhere in the large room guests were helping themselves from a long buffet table set against one wall. It was this table that next caught and held Carol’s attention. Staring at it, she swore under her breath at what she beheld.
The cloth was made from some glittering, gold-colored fabric and most of the dishes were gold or silver. There was a giant haunch of roasted meat, which a servant was carving. There were baskets of fine white bread, and bowls of salads and vegetables, and platters of various meats already sliced for the taking. Entire poached fishes lay on nests of shredded green leaves. The centerpiece of this display of culinary splendor was a huge golden compote piled high with oranges, grapes, pomegranates, and peaches, the whole extravagant design stuck through at intervals with long branches of fresh purple orchids and topped with the largest pineapple Carol had ever seen.
It was the fruit that did it, that made her so angry she wanted to throw a rock through the window. The unfairness of the scene before her struck Carol like a blow to the stomach. While Jo was forced to bargain for a bony chicken that was meant to feed no more than two or three people at most but that had to be stretched to fill a dozen hungry stomachs for a Solstice feast, while Bas made soup out of the leftovers and spoke of having eaten only one orange in his life, in a world in which Lin could not afford to buy even a single holiday treat for her child, these people, the so-called Leaders, were living in decadent luxury. And denying it to others. Refusing to share what they had. They even rationed the water supply to ordinary folk.
No wonder they needed squads of civil guards to keep the peace. No wonder Nik and others of like mind were planning to revolt.
“I will do everything I can to help them,” Carol vowed.
“Hey, you! What are you doing there?” One of the guards at the far side of the square had seen her. His voice rang out with absolute assurance that he would be obeyed. “Come over here at once.”
For the space of a heartbeat Carol did not move. She stood frozen where she was, not looking toward the guard who’d ordered her to present herself to him, but still with her gaze fixed on the scene inside the mansion.
“I said, come here!” The guard raised his voice a notch. The two guards standing at the mansion entrance turned their attention toward the rows of parked limousines, searching for a view of the miscreant who did not jump in instant response to an order from one of their comrades.
Inside the brightly lit house Commander Drum paused on his way to the buffet table, turned, and headed for the wide front window as if a sound from outside had penetrated the luxurious warmth of the party. He stopped by the window to peer out into the square.
Carol thought he saw her. She was still standing upright with one hand resting on the hood of the limousine behind which she had been sheltering. Across the darkness she looked right into Drum’s eyes. Cold possessed her, a chill more bitter and heart-numbing even than Lady Augusta’s embrace. In that moment Carol knew how a trapped rabbit felt, paralyzed, terrified, unable to do anything but wait for the hunter to pounce.
And then a noisy group of revelers surged into the square, half a dozen of them, laughing and singing. Some carried wine bottles. All were well dressed. They headed for the mansion where the party was being held and demanded entrance of the guards at the door.
With the arrival of these newcomers the terrifying spell holding Carol in her place was broken. She could move again, and she did so. Down behind the cars she went and, keeping her head low, ran out of the square by the way she had come into it.
Once in the narrower side streets, she no longer worried about discovery or about which direction she took. Pursued by the sound of booted feet, she simply fled as fast as she could, turning corners so she would be out of sight, squeezing herself into tiny spaces between buildings, slipping into dark alleys. When she suddenly found herself at the brink of a narrow canal, she jumped over it without a thought and kept running. Once she disturbed a little knot of people in ragged clothes who huddled in a lightless arcade.
“Help me,” she gasped, risking her life on the chance that they were no more fond of her pursuers than she was. “The civil guards are after me.”
“Hah! Them. Come this way.” Without questioning her they handed her along from person to person in the dark, finally pushing her through a gate into an alley at the rear of the arcade. The gate closed behind her and she was alone again.
Here all was silence and, freed of the requirements of haste, caution returned. Her way was darker now, and from what Carol could distinguish of it, the area where she found herself was in a sorry state. There were no electric street lamps burning, nor well-kept houses. In a black quietness disturbed only by the scurrying of the occasional rat or the snarls of a pair of fighting cats, she crept along, not knowing where she was, but too frightened to stop lest she be discovered and taken by the civil guards.
She would never be able to explain by what route she arrived—perhaps there was some supernatural hand in it—but suddenly she walked into an open space and saw before her the World Tree with its empty, grasping fingers and, directly across the way, Marlowe House.
Carol came to an abrupt halt. Commander Drum had spoken to Leader Fal about having seen her here, so it was possible that he had sent some of his guards to watch for her. But she had to get home—for Marlowe House was home and it represented all that existed of security and warmth in this hideous future world.
And Nik was there, in Marlowe House. She could not lead Drum’s men to him, but she had to get to Nik, to warn him. At this point she scarcely knew anymore what it was she wanted to warn him about, but the need to feel his arms around her was a burning ache in both her mind and her heart. Perhaps, if she went very carefully, and if she were lucky, she could reach the house without being seen.
She slipped into the deeper shadows of a broken stone wall, all that remained of an elegant old building. Slowly she began to edge her way around the square toward Marlowe House. She was half frozen from the cold, worn out after a night without sleep, and so frightened that her wits were as numb as her hands and feet. Which was why she did nothing when she first heard the soft step behind her.
It was the lightest, faintest crunch of a foot upon broken stonework and mortar ground into dust. Then silence. Nothing. Not even a breath came out of the darkness. All the same, Carol was certain that someone was standing directly behind her. She could not turn around. She could not move at all—or breathe—and her heart had stopped beating.
A wool-covered hand clamped down over her mouth, stifling the scream she was unable, from sheer terror, to utter. An arm wrapped around her chest, pinning her hands at her sides before she could raise them to fight off her attacker. Carol felt her knees begin to buckle. Her stomach lurched. She knew she was going to faint. Blackness swirled around her as she crumpled against the person who was holding her.