Collecting their things, they walk outside, where everybody has arrived to meet the child.
The two villagers I’ve selected to be his parents are waiting anxiously at the front of the crowd, and a hush descends as the boy leaves Thea’s side, stepping forward to greet them.
‘I’m Ben,’ he says, sticking his hand straight out.
His mother bursts into tears, immediately scooping him into her arms, scattering pollen everywhere. His father wraps them both in a hug, earning huge cheers from the crowd who hurl coloured powder into the air, staining everything in purple, yellow, blue and red. En masse, the villagers flood back towards the exercise yard, where a special feast of cakes, panna cotta and other treats has been prepared. They’ll spend the rest of the day dancing, singing, eating and swimming.
Hephaestus waits for the crowd to clear then starts down the steps. ‘Do you mind if I leave this in your lab?’ he asks Thea, tapping the contraption he brought down from the cauldron.
‘Of course not,’ she replies. ‘What are you doing this afternoon? We should catch up. I’ve got a batch of that almost-vodka we could put a dent in.’
‘I’ve got an errand to run for my mother out by the lighthouse,’ he says. ‘I’ll come see you afterwards.’
‘Perfect,’ he replies.
Thea watches him go, then blows out a breath of concern. ‘You’re done for the day,’ she says to her apprentices, obviously still thinking about Hephaestus. ‘I’ll take the box now.’
Hui hands it over with obvious relief, then springs away towards the dormitories.
Clara’s about to go after her when she spots Emory waiting alone in the yard. Her mother’s standing perfectly still, her hands clasped and face hopeful.
Her heart leaps, only to sink immediately. For all their disagreements, she’s missed her these last three weeks.
‘Abi?’ she asks in her thoughts, staring across the departing heads at her mother’s freckled face, and huge mop of curly brown hair.
‘Yes, Clara.’
‘Has she changed, do you think? If I go to her now, will she accept what I want to do with my life?’
‘No,’ I admit.
‘Will we argue?’
‘Not immediately, but eventually.’
‘I thought so,’ the girl murmurs tiredly.
Thea is watching her, those blue eyes shining in the sunlight. Contrary to her reputation, they have a remarkable capacity to shift from cold to warm, depending on the situation, and right now they’re filled with care for her young apprentice.
‘I sense you’re not in the mood for a happy reunion,’ she says knowingly.
‘Do you have any work that needs doing?’
‘There’s always work, Clara.’ From the folds of her clothes she hands over a vial of blood. ‘This belongs to the boy. I need it analysed.’
Clara takes it, watching it glisten in the light. ‘Is there something wrong with him?’
‘Not wrong, but certainly odd,’ she replies. ‘Why don’t you bathe, then head over to my lab. I’ll tell your mother that I’m not done with you this afternoon.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It’s my pleasure, little one.’
Feeling guilty, Clara keeps her head down, and departs the cable-car station, heading towards the lab, abandoning her mother in the yard.
FIFTEEN
‘This is a bad idea,’ I warn, as Niema stalks out of the gloomy school into the burning heat, and crosses the rear yard towards Thea’s laboratory. ‘It doesn’t matter what you say, she’s not going to forgive you.’
‘Whether my experiment works or not, Thea will never speak to me again after tonight,’ she says, lowering her eyes against the fierce glare. ‘I need to get this off my chest, while I still have the chance.’
The air’s thick with dust, kicked up by the villagers who’ve just left with the boy. Niema covers her mouth with her sleeve to keep from breathing it in, but she can already feel it coating her skin.
That’s the only problem with living in the village. She never feels clean. Before they left Blackheath, everything was sterile and neat. She showered in the morning and evening. Her clothes were fresh each day, their folds pressed flat. Of everything she’s lost, that’s the only thing she really still misses.
A cheer erupts from the exercise yard, followed by the first notes of a song. The meal will be out soon, she thinks. She’s sorry to miss the celebrations, but she’s much too jittery to join in.
Hephaestus has sent word that he’s chosen a candidate for her experiment, which means she’ll be able to put her plan into motion this evening. By tomorrow morning, she will have achieved something nobody ever thought possible. She will have found a way to strip the thorns from the human race, fundamentally transforming their nature. She will have laid the foundations for a perfect society. An impossible utopia, built atop her patience and guile.
‘Or, alternatively, you’ll have caused their extinction,’ I say.
‘I didn’t realise I’d created such a pessimist,’ she replies, irritated by my refusal to applaud her daydreams.
Niema’s an extraordinary scientist, but she suffers the arrogance of genius. Having never encountered a problem she couldn’t overcome, she can’t imagine anything not going her way. Her entire life has been filled with green lights, and she’s convinced it always will be.
Four steps lead into Thea’s lab, which Niema’s always considered one of the most beautiful spaces in the village. It was formerly a mess hall, and green tiles still cover the walls, while wrought-iron columns support a mezzanine – their ornate design a rare flourish in a place that was built to be feared, rather than admired.
There are thirteen pieces of scientific equipment arranged on old tables and gurneys, their thick black wires trailing across the floor.
Hephaestus built this lab for Thea after they lost Blackheath, fearing what would happen to her if she didn’t have her work. He assembled most of the equipment using parts he salvaged from a derelict hospital on the north coast of the island.
It’s an astonishing effort, one of the few things her son has ever done that made Niema truly proud of him.
Thea is huddled over a microscope, but she raises her head when she hears Niema’s steps.
Niema wrinkles her nose at Thea’s appearance. Her T-shirt and shorts are filthy, her face is grimy and her dark hair is lank. She’s coated in pollen from the cauldron garden, but she doesn’t appear to have noticed.
She’s always been the same way. Far as Niema can tell, Thea cares only for her work and is oblivious to everything else – to the point of amorality. This was the reason she was able to complete her doctorate when she was fourteen, and why Niema felt confident enough to hire somebody who was barely into their teens to work at the world’s most prestigious research laboratory. Only Thea would spend three weeks in the wilderness, then go straight back to work without bathing first.
For a moment, they simply stare at each other, surprise having rendered Thea mute. Neither of them can remember the last time Niema set foot in this lab. They barely speak any more, and when they do it’s through me.
‘Your sample is over there,’ says Thea, flinging an arm towards the table at the metal box she had Hui carry down from the lab.
Niema stands awkwardly on the threshold, wringing her hands. She rehearsed this, but she doesn’t know where to start. The thing about being right most of the time is that you hardly ever need to apologise for it.
‘I’ve come to … I wanted …’ She flushes red, floundering. ‘I know you think I’ve betrayed you and that I –’
‘Don’t,’ mutters Thea, realising where this is going.