Media lay on the bed, her hands over her ears, trying to shut out this new, frightening world.
She is a resilient woman, thought Flapping Eagle, but very near breaking point.
He was retracing his steps to the main entrance. The unexplained area towards the front face of the house, south of their room, must be Grimus’ own quarters, he had decided; but he had seen no doors leading into that area. He went outside and circled the house; but other than the front door and Bird-Dog’s back door, there were no entrances; and the windows of Grimus’ room were closed and reflecting. Puzzled, he returned to the stone hall.
To find a door where none had been, a swinging slab of stone that now stood open. From the room within came the creaking, the all-pervasive creaking. Flapping Eagle walked slowly towards the sound. The dirty yellow light of oil-lamps glowed through the secret door.
– The acoustics here are somewhat haunting, yes?
Quick, clipped consonants and short, flat vowels. The voice of Grimus.
– I trust you are both comfortable?
The rocking-chair stood with its face to the closed window and its back to Flapping Eagle. He could see the head: a shock of white hair, some of it flowing over the back of the chair.
Creak… creak… creak as the rocking-chair swayed back and forth; and another, slighter sound, a soft clicking which Flapping Eagle could not understand. He reached the rocking-chair and stood beside the man he had come so far to see.
Grimus was knitting.
Like, and yet unlike. Yes, their faces were alike, the aquiline nose, the deepset eyes, the firm square jaw; but Grimus was nearer Bird-Dog’s olive colouring than the white of Flapping Eagle’s sepulchritude. And their eyes spoke differently, Grimus’ distant, cool, twinkling while Flapping Eagle’s were glaring and hot. Like, and yet unlike.
As though reading his thoughts, Grimus said:
– My pale young shadow. That is you.
Flapping Eagle forced the necessary words past his lips; he was finding it difficult to take up an antagonistic stance in this relaxed, amused presence.
– You know why I am here, he said. Where is the Stone Rose?
– I know why Virgil wanted you to come, said Grimus. That is sad, you know. For Virgil to side with the Nicholas Deggles of this world. But no matter, no matter. I hope you will make up your own mind, Flapping Eagle. You are nobody’s tool. The eyes smiled.
– Well, then, said Flapping Eagle. Tell me why you sent Bird-Dog for me. And tell me what you have done to make her… what she has become.
The white eyebrows rose a fraction.
– So fast, said Grimus. Such haste. No, my friend, I will not tell you. Not, at any price, before dinner.
Dinner was vegetarian, like Grimus; but so expertly had Bird-Dog prepared it that Flapping Eagle, a great carnivore, scarcely noticed the absence of meat.
– Man’s origins, Grimus was saying, are those of the hunter. Thus the hunt, search or quest is man’s oldest, most time-honoured pursuit. You must feel a great sense of accomplishment to have arrived.
Flapping Eagle looked at his sister: crushed, servile, cowering menially in a corner, ignored by her master.
– Perhaps it’s better to travel hopefully, he said.
Bird-Dog, who had been waiting on Grimus for an eternity now, an eternity of being ignored. She had stood it, Flapping Eagle surmised, because at least she could feel unique, the sole acolyte of the man she worshipped. At least she was significant. No wonder, then, that she grudged his arrival; she would not want to share Grimus with anyone.
Grimus, for his part, treated her throughout the meal as subhuman, a being beneath contempt; and Flapping Eagle found himself shaping a dislike of the strange secret man.
He was talking to Media. -I must compliment you on your strength, he said. But I fear for you. Flapping Eagle, do you not fear for her? This is not an entirely safe place. The side-effect, I mean.
– She’s resisted it perfectly well so far, said Flapping Eagle.
– But one can weaken, said Grimus. My dear, would you be prepared to undergo a little hypnosis? It would make you safe.
Media looked at Flapping Eagle through ill, panicky eyes. He was thinking: Grimus is right: the Effect is strongest here. She could succumb at any moment. So, despite his reluctance to allow Grimus near her, he said: -Perhaps you’re right.
– After dinner, then, said Grimus. You will of course be present yourself.
– You like my home? asked Grimus, eagerly.
– Very nice, said Media.
– I have built it to enshrine my favourite things, said Grimus. My favourite ideas. The ash outside. The portraits of birds. It is a great pleasure to a lonely man.
– It’s very large, said Media.
– When I lived in K, said Grimus, I was prepared to live as modestly as the rest. But since they have forced me to withdraw, I indulge myself shamelessly.
– Acute of you to recall the Ash Yggdrasil, said Grimus over coffee. Let me tell you of a related matter. The Twilight of the Gods, as it is known. This is an entirely erroneous term, you know. The word ragnarok, twilight, only occurs once in the entire Poetic Edda, and is almost certainly a misprint for the word ragnarak, which is the one used throughout the songs. The difference is crucial. Ragnarak, you see, means fall. Total destruction. A much more final thing than twilight. You see how one letter can warp a mythology?
– How do you get coffee here? asked Media.
Grimus frowned at the irrelevance. -I think, therefore it is, he said.
Flapping Eagle imagined he looked pleased at her confusion.
On their way out of the dining-room, Grimus bumped into Bird-Dog. She dropped the dish she was carrying. He dusted himself down at the place where their bodies had touched, looking disgusted; and said: -Bird-Dog, you are a clumsy fool.
– Yes, Grimus, she said.
Flapping Eagle stifled a surge of anger, remembering Virgil’s advice: Bide your time.
The hypnosis of Media was completely successful; the post-hypnotic suggestion completely shut out the whine from her head. Flapping Eagle cheered up slightly, then thought: I wonder how much hypnosis he’s used on Bird-Dog?
Media was asleep. Bird-Dog was concealed in her quarters. Grimus and Flapping Eagle sat in the Bird Room, amid the paintings and the stuffed and sleeping creatures.
– Peaceful beings, said Grimus. Yet they can be trained to fight, like cocks. Simple beings, yet they say the mynah bird can tell fortunes. Amoral beings, yet some are highly moral. The albatross, for instance, is monogamous after performing its mating dance. For the rest of its natural life. Few of us could claim as much.
– Grimus… began Flapping Eagle.
– They feed, they breed and they die, said Grimus. All we can do is feed. Which of us do you find the superior?
– I think it’s time, said Flapping Eagle.
– Now you yourself, Flapping Eagle, are a strange creature. Once you were nidifugous, fleeing the nest which bore you. But not by choice, so you have once more become nidipetal. Seeking a new nest, eh? Admirable. Most admirable.
Flapping Eagle burst out:
– Grimus, what is this all about?
Grimus looked mildly astonished.
– All about, Mr Eagle? But of course it is all about death. Death, Mr Eagle-that is what life is about.
Flapping Eagle felt suddenly very cold.
– Whose death? he asked, fearfully.
– My dear Flapping Eagle, smiled Grimus. Mine, naturally. Whose did you think? That is who you are: the angel of my death.
– Put these on, said Grimus.
– Why?
– Because it must all be properly done, said Grimus, his hands fluttering in bird-like movements.
So, in the Bird-Room, Flapping Eagle assumed the full ceremonial feathered head-dress and face-paint of an Axona Sham-Man, slung a bow across a shoulder and a quiver of arrows at his back, and held a ju-ju stick in his right hand. Grimus, in the meanwhile, put on a different head-dress, whose colouring exactly matched the plumage of the great bird in the largest portrait in the room.