At the heart of Bayle’s expedition was a deep ambition to reconcile the two great poles of human thought, the Mechanist versus the Creationist – and to end centuries of theological conflict over which too much blood had been spilled. He and his companions would see through this goal, even though they could only return to a distant future.
In the morning Enna and Tomm were among the first to stir. They emerged from their respective buildings, and greeted each other with a jolly innocence that probably fooled nobody.
Cartographer Tomm had been detailed to take up the balloon for a rapid aerial survey, to provide context for the more painstaking work on the ground. Enna, free of specific chores, decided to ride up with him.
But there was a problem. They couldn’t find Momo. The pilot was a habitual early riser, like Bayle himself – a relic from his military days, it seemed. He was always up for Enna.
Tomm was unconcerned. ‘So old One-eye treated himself to a party last night. He won’t be the only one—’
‘That isn’t like Momo!’ Enna snapped, growing impatient. When Tomm treated her like a foolish child, Enna had some sympathy for her father’s view of him. ‘Look, this is a strange city, which we barely explored before splitting up. You can help me find Momo, or use the hot air you’re spouting to go blow up the balloon yourself.’
He was crestfallen, but when she stalked off to search, Tomm, embarrassed, hurried after her.
She thought she remembered the building Momo had chosen as his shelter. She headed that way now.
But something was wrong. As she followed the unpaved alleys, the layout of the buildings didn’t quite match her memory of the night before. Of course, she had only had a quick glimpse of the city, and the light of morning, playing over these crisp creamy walls, was quite different. But even so, she wouldn’t have expected to get as lost as this.
And when she came to the place where she thought Momo’s building should have been, there was only a blank space. She walked back and forth over the bare ground, disoriented, dread gathering in her soul.
‘You must be mistaken,’ Tomm insisted.
‘I’m good at direction-finding, Tomm. You know that.’
Playfully he said, ‘You found your way to my bed well enough—’
‘Oh, shut up. This is serious. This is where Momo’s shelter was, I’m sure of it. Something has changed. I can feel it.’
Tomm said defensively, ‘That doesn’t sound very scientific.’
‘Then help me, o great cartographer. Did any of you make a map last night?’
‘Of course not. The light was poor. We knew there would be time enough today.’
She glared at him. But she was being unfair; it was a perfectly reasonable assumption that a city like this wouldn’t change overnight.
But the fact of the matter was, Momo was still missing.
Growing increasingly disturbed, she went to her father’s room. That at least was just where it had been last night. But her father wouldn’t see her; a busybody junior Philosopher barred her from even entering the door. Bayle was still deep in discussion with Sila, the ragged city woman, and he had left strict instructions to be disturbed by nobody – not even Enna, his daughter.
Tomm, apologetically, said he had to get on with his flight, Momo or no Momo. Distracted, Enna kissed him goodbye, and continued her search.
In the hours that followed, she walked the length and breadth of the city. She didn’t find Momo. But she did learn that he wasn’t the only missing person; two others had vanished, both servants. Though a few people were troubled, most seemed sure it was just a case of getting lost in a strange city. And as for the uncertain layout, she saw doubt in a few eyes. But the Philosophers, far better educated than she was, had no room in their heads for such strange and confusing notions as an indeterminate geography.
When Tomm went sailing over the city in his balloon, a junior pilot at his side, she dutifully wore the red cap so he could see her, down here on the ground. Time-accelerated, he waved like a jerky puppet. But still she couldn’t find Momo, or dispel her feeling of disquiet.
That evening, to her astonishment, her father let it be known that he was hosting a dinner – and Sila, the ragged city woman, was to be guest of honour.
Enna couldn’t remember her father showing such crass misjudgement before, and she wondered if he had somehow been seduced by this exotic city of the Lowland, or, worse, by the woman, Sila, of whom Enna knew nothing at all. But still Bayle’s entourage would not let Enna near her father; he was much too busy for mere family.
Enna made the best of it. She put on the finest dress in her luggage, and decorated her hair with her best jewellery, including the pretty piece her mother had given her when they bade their tearful goodbyes. But as she brushed her hair by the light of her spindling-fat lamp, the blank walls of the city building she was using seemed to close in around her.
She met Tomm outside the building. He was still in his travelling clothes; he had not been invited to the dinner.
‘You look wonderful,’ he said.
She knew he meant it, and her heart softened. ‘Thank you.’ She let him kiss her.
‘Do you suppose I’m allowed to walk you over?’
‘I’d like that. But, Tomm—’ She glanced back at the building, the gaping unglazed windows like eye sockets. ‘Put my luggage back in one of our wagons. I don’t care which one. I’m not spending another night in one of these boxes.’
‘Ah. Not even with me?’
‘Not even with you. I’m sorry, Tomm.’
‘Don’t be. As long as you let me share your wagon.’
When they got to her father’s building she was stunned by the sight. Inside, three long trestle-tables had been set up and laid with cloths and the best cutlery and china. Candles glowed on the tables, and finely dressed guests had already taken their seats. At the head table sat Bayle himself, with his closest confidantes – and his guest of honour, Sila, dressed now in a fine flowing black robe, sat beside him. From a smaller building co-opted as a kitchen, a steamy smell of vegetables emanated, while five fat runner-chicks slowly roasted on spits. Enna had grown up in a world shaped by her father’s organisational skills, of which the Expedition was perhaps the crowning glory. But even she was impressed by the speed and skill with which this event had been assembled. After all, the party had only reached this mysterious Lowland city a day before.
When he saw Enna, Bayle stood up and waved her forward. Led by Nool, Bayle’s sleek manservant, Enna took her place at her father’s right-hand side. Sila sat on his left.
Enna leaned close to her father. ‘I’ve got to talk to you. I’ve been trying all day.’
‘I know you have. Priorities, my dear.’
That was a word she had heard all her life. But she insisted, ‘Something isn’t right here. People are missing. The geography—’
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. ‘I know you’re no fool, my daughter, and I will hear you out. But not now. We’ll make time at the end of the dinner.’
She wasn’t going to get any more from him. But as her father sat back, she caught the eye of the city woman, Sila. She imagined there was a calculation in Sila’s deep gaze as it met her own. She wondered what Sila truly wanted – and what it would cost them all if she achieved it.
The food was good, of course; her father would have allowed nothing less, and the wine flowed voluminously, though Enna refused to touch a drop. She longed for the meal to be over, so she could talk to Bayle before another night fell. At last the final dish was cleared away, the glasses refilled for the final time.