The Golden Cord

THE GOLDEN CORD

23 June 2059

Midsummer Eve

The journey back to Magdalen was a blur. Warden escorted me through the city, using the same unlit paths. At first, I was afraid he was taking me to Nashira. Instead, he almost carried me from Rose Lane into the Porters’ Lodge.

Gail looked up in alarm when he entered. Seeing us, she opened her mouth, shut it, shook her head, and went back to her crossword.

‘Good evening, Warden.’

‘Gail,’ Warden said grimly.

Without another word, he led me up to the Founders Tower. I sat on the daybed and folded my arms tight. My side was killing me, even after the dacrodiorin and scimorphine. Nick had struck with surgical precision, and being flung about by Kraz had brought the pain back with a vengeance.

Warden bolted the door, then went to stand beside a window. For some time, he kept watch through a gap in the curtain, a sliver of torchlight dividing his face.

Now I was out of immediate danger, I could take him in. Aside from the usual black trousers, he wore his quilted jerkin over an ivory shirt. Outside the residence, he usually wore a doublet, at least. He had left in a rush.

‘I would be obliged,’ he said, ‘if you would tell me why you were in the House.’

‘I was looking for a new deck of tarot cards for Liss,’ I said.

‘You could have asked me to retrieve them for you.’

‘I didn’t need or want your help.’ I held my aching side. ‘Fuck. Is there any more scimorphine?’

Warden brought it to me in the form of a white pill. I tucked it under my tongue.

‘Be honest,’ I said, swallowing. ‘Have I just killed Kraz?’

‘Acid darts cannot destroy us. Only slow us,’ Warden said. ‘You must have used the pollen I gave you.’

‘Yes.’

He looked me over, while I gazed at the grey dust on my hands.

‘I must speak to Michael and Gail,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, you should wash. Leave your clothes outside the bathroom for laundering.’

I nodded. There was pollen on my shirt, in my hair.

As he opened the door, I said, ‘Warden, wait.’ I took the cards from my backpack. ‘I need you to get these to Julian – 26. He should be in the Old Library. Tell him it could take a few days for Liss to bond with them.’

‘I will deliver them by morning.’ Warden slotted the deck into his jerkin. ‘Divest yourself of the evidence now. Do not tarry, Paige.’

He left.

In the bathroom, I avoided my reflection. Even my face was dusted with pollen. While the bath filled, I stripped off my clothes and placed them outside the door with my splint. My wrist was sore and red.

Kraz had thrown me with ease. It shook me that I had trained for three years to run and fight, and it all meant nothing to the Rephs. They must be able to move through the world without any fear of harm.

Except, apparently, from a bit of pollen. That had been one extreme bout of hay fever. I clapped a hand over my lips to stop a laugh.

Keep it together, Paige.

I sat in the hot water, up to my collarbone. A fresh cake of honey soap had been left. As fast as I could, I scrubbed away the pollen, using a brush to clean it from under my nails. I washed my hair twice, just to be sure. Only once the water had drained and I had rinsed the bath did I start to calm down.

The evidence was gone. Wrapped in my nightshirt and robe, I sat down on the daybed, waiting.

Warden returned at midnight. By that point, I was as tense as a piano wire.

‘You were gone for hours,’ I said.

‘I was keeping watch for any sign of a disturbance in the city,’ he said. ‘I also wanted to ensure I was seen on the Broad, and in the Residence of Queens, so no one would suspect that I had visited the House.’

‘Is there any disturbance?’

‘Not so far. Kraz will likely not be discovered for a day or two. Even when he is, Nashira will not want any word of this to spread. Our immortality must not be questioned.’ He sat opposite me, looked me in the eye. ‘Paige, did anyone see you?’

‘Terebell,’ I said. ‘Thuban suspected an intruder, but he didn’t catch me.’

‘Terebell will keep your secret. She is one of us. If she was the only one, we have nothing to fear.’ Pause. ‘Your wrist is swollen.’

‘Kraz was going to torture me for information about Jaxon.’

Warden clenched his jaw. There was something in his eyes that struck me: a brewing darkness, a resolve.

‘Michael will bring another splint,’ he said. ‘He and Gail will swear that you were here all night, if they are questioned. Since I am the sole oneiromancer in this city, only I would be able to contradict their testimonies.’

‘You definitely trust both of them.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re happy to conceal the fact I just killed your heir to the empire.’

‘I do not recognise the legitimacy of tyrants.’

His face held all the shadows in the room.

‘There’s something deeper here,’ I said. ‘It goes beyond how this city is managed, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’ve been a criminal long enough to know that it doesn’t pay to get involved in other voyants’ grudges, so you can keep that to yourself,’ I said. ‘I would like to know more about the pollen, though.’

‘It is the pollen of the poppy anemone, also known as the windflower,’ Warden said. ‘Why it harms us, I cannot tell you, but I do know a human tale about its origins. Have you heard of Adonis?’

That rang a bell. The year before, Eliza had found a book of Greek myths on the black market and used some of her earnings to buy it for us. I had been about halfway through it when I was detained.

‘I think so,’ I said. ‘Was he a god?’

It had been years since anyone had last told me a story. My grandfather, whispering of mighty Aoife, who had transformed her stepchildren into swans. Warden had a tough act to follow.

‘Adonis was a mortal hunter, beloved of Aphrodite,’ he said. ‘The goddess of beauty was so taken with him, she preferred his company even to that of the other gods. As the myth goes, her paramour, the war god Ares, grew so jealous of the pair that he slaughtered Adonis.’

He was a fine storyteller. His voice was slow and deep, calming.

‘Aphrodite wept over her beloved. Her tears mingled with his blood, and from that mingling sprang the windflower, as red as the drops on the earth. Adonis died in her arms, and was sent, like all spirits, to languish in the underworld.’

I could almost see it.

‘Zeus, the ruler of the gods, heard Aphrodite lamenting her lover,’ Warden said. ‘Out of pity for her, he agreed to let Adonis spend half the year in life, and half in death.’

Kraz had looked as if he was half in death, at least.

‘To my knowledge, it is the only plant that harms my kind,’ Warden said. ‘It is illegal to either grow or possess it across the Republic of Scion.’

‘If it’s illegal, how do you have it?’

‘I grow the flowers in a glasshouse in the Fields of Mercy.’ Warden reached for the wine. ‘I wanted you to have the pollen for your own protection. I did not expect you to have to use it so quickly.’

‘Do you have more?’

‘A modest supply. The flowers will not bloom again until April, and even that is no guarantee, given the unseasonal cold in this city.’

At least we had a weapon that worked against Rephs.

‘The cartomancer must be a good friend to you,’ Warden said. ‘You took a great risk for her tonight, Paige.’

‘She deserves to live.’ I breathed out. ‘Warden, I … didn’t mean to drag you all into another mess. I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me get back.’

‘I owed you that much.’

Warden drank from his goblet. I watched his face, narrowing my eyes a little.

‘I didn’t tell you where I was going,’ I said. ‘How did you know I was there?’

‘That is a grave matter I wanted to discuss with you.’

‘Graver than the fact that I’m after killing a Reph?’

‘Yes. May I stay?’

‘It’s your tower.’

‘And it is still for your private use until July.’

‘Then I give you my gracious permission to stay.’

‘Thank you.’ Warden sought my gaze. ‘There has been a complication, Paige.’

‘You say that like every single thing that’s happened to me since March hasn’t been a massive and horrific complication. You personally, by yourself, have permanently complicated my life.’

‘I fear I may be about to do it again.’

‘Fire away. I doubt anything can surprise me at this point.’

Warden stood again, taking his goblet with him. He rested an arm on the mantelpiece, staring into the flames.

‘I do not know how it happened,’ he said, ‘but in the aftermath of London, the æther has bound our spirits. I felt it for the first time while you had your fever, and saw it in my dreamscape. It is … a golden cord.’

‘Right.’ I paused, waiting. ‘Has it got anything to do with the silver cord?’

‘The silver cord binds the spirit to the dreamscape. This one appears to bind us to each other.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I cannot say that I do, either.’ Warden looked at me. ‘I did hear of the golden cord in the Netherworld. It was a myth, a mystery – a powerful bond atwixt two spirits. From what I can tell, it gives us a seventh sense, keeping us aware of each other. Even when I left you just now, I could feel you from the Broad. I even shared your lingering fear.’

It took a while for his words to fully sink in.

‘No,’ I said in a whisper. ‘That isn’t possible.’

‘How many impossibilities have you seen in this city?’

‘I don’t believe you. Why would something like that have happened?’

‘I do not know.’ Warden set his goblet on the mantelpiece. ‘Can you feel this?’

A moment later, I did.

If you had offered me the world, I would not have been able to fully describe it – just as I could never explain how I breathed while I was sound asleep, or how my heart kept beating. I just knew he was calling me.

‘Great,’ I said. ‘First you steal my memories, and now you’ve put a spiritual leash on me. Just what I’ve always wanted.’

‘I do not intend to misuse it, Paige.’

‘So get rid of it. Sever it,’ I said hotly. ‘You’re the immortal. If you knew how to call me with it, you must be able to work out how to break it.’

‘A silver cord is broken only by death. I cannot imagine the golden cord is any different. As for how I knew how to call you, I am following my instincts.’

‘Why do I feel like you did this on purpose, to keep tabs on me?’

‘You are under no obligation to believe otherwise.’

I took a deep breath. As angry and unnerved as I was, I was too exhausted to argue with him. Kraz had left me shaken, and I wanted to be still.

‘So even if I left this place,’ I said, ‘you would be able to find me?’

‘I believe so. I knew you had gone to the House,’ Warden said. ‘Your fear was palpable. That must have been when you saw Thuban. I left at once. I knew exactly where you were in Tom Tower.’

‘Fuck.’ I pressed both hands to my face. ‘Why can’t I feel it that strongly?’

‘You are mortal. It may reveal itself to you more slowly than it did to me.’

‘Because you have the æther in your blood.’

‘Yes. It is called ectoplasm,’ he said. ‘Humans are fully corporeal; we are not. We exist within the æther, but also carry it in us. If your dreamscape is a glass float in the sea, mine is flooded with water.’ He paused. ‘I would release you from this binding if I could. I will seek counsel. For now, however, the cord exists.’

‘Better not tell Nashira. I’m sure she wouldn’t like you to be tethered to someone else.’

‘She and I have no affection for each other.’

‘You don’t say.’ I lifted my face. ‘Warden, why are you with her?’

Warden sat back in his wing chair. I thought he wouldn’t answer me.

‘Do you remember what Thuban called me,’ he finally said, ‘when I first took you to Port Meadow?’

I nodded. ‘I don’t know what it means.’

‘It is a cumbersome translation of a Gloss word, but Thuban was attempting to humiliate me – to sneer at my low standing, and my lack of choice in the matter of my union with Nashira.’

‘She forced you to be her consort.’

Warden gave a stiff nod.

‘I would tell you how it happened,’ he said, ‘but I would not burden you with my past.’

‘You’re burdened with mine, whether I like it or not.’

‘The cord should not give me any further access to your memories. I will not attempt to see them without your consent.’ Warden looked at me. ‘Paige, this is an intimate connection, and I have no way to break it. I would prefer not to share it with someone who despises me. Tell me what I can do to earn your trust back.’

‘Who says you had it in the first place?’

‘You were close.’

Now he had told me about the cord, I was becoming conscious of it – a wisp of awareness, like a draught, telling me how and where he was. Without a scrap of concrete evidence, I was sure he was being honest.

‘Show me the heart of your dreamscape,’ I said. ‘So I can see you.’ He seemed to mull it over. ‘You know I’ll never get that far unless you let me in. You used your gift to judge my character. This is how I judge yours.’ I paused. ‘I want to trust you, Warden.’

‘So be it. If you are to train with me again, we should take the first step,’ Warden said. ‘Will the scimorphine affect your gift?’

‘No idea.’ I shifted on to my side. ‘I might hurt you.’

‘I will cope.’

‘In case you’d forgotten, I have actually killed people by dreamwalking.’

‘I accept the risk.’

‘Fine.’ I cleared my throat. ‘It would help if I was a little closer to you. Could you … lie on the floor next to me, or something?’

Warden did as I asked without protest, positioning himself by the fire on his back. His gloved fingers clasped on his chest.

Once, I would have relished this opportunity to break him. Now I was only intrigued. Before I had taken hold of the butterfly, I had savoured the freedom of walking in its dreamscape. It would be fascinating to see one that had existed for centuries.

‘I won’t stay long.’ I passed him a cushion. ‘I can’t, without oxygen.’

‘Very well.’ He tucked the cushion under his head. ‘I am ready when you are.’

There was something absurd about seeing him this way – this giant of a man, lying free and easy on the floor. I looked away to hide my smile.

‘Brace yourself, then,’ I said.

He nodded. I lay on my side across the daybed, letting my eyes close.

The poppy field was a blurred painting. Everything was melting, softened by the scimorphine, but I could still move. I cut through my flowers, heading for the æther. When I reached the final boundary, I pushed my hands through it, watching the illusion of my body fade away.

In my dreamscape, I had a dream-form, which appeared as I perceived myself. Once I left, I took on my spirit form, amorphous and faceless.

As I approached his dreamscape, a ripple crossed its surface as he lowered his defences. I slid past the dense walls, into the darkness of the hadal zone, where I took shape again. A golden thread stretched before me, making me think of the story of the Minotaur, another one in that book from Eliza.

Like Theseus, I followed it. I had reached this point during our training sessions, but only in bursts. Now I could take my time. I walked through the dwindling gloom, heading for the middle of his mind.

Unlike the tiny mind of the butterfly, his was cavernous, like a cathedral. Each circle took a while to cross. It seemed that dreamscapes widened by the year, the way a tree grew new rings over time.

Though this place dwarfed me, I felt no fear. I passed a spectre, a dark manifestation of memory. It watched me, but did nothing.

Warden waited in his sunlit zone, covered in scars, his face gaunt. This was how he saw himself – bleak and weary, drained of all hope. I approached him. Now I was in his dreamscape, I was playing by his rules. My hands looked almost the same as my real ones, except with a soft glow. A new dream-form, shaped by his personal impressions of me.

There were no mirrors in a dreamscape. I would never be able to see his Paige – just as he could never see his melancholy picture of himself.

I stopped at the edge of the twilight zone. His dream-form inclined his head.

‘Welcome. Forgive the lack of décor,’ he said. ‘I do not often have guests.’

‘It really is minimalist,’ I agreed.

My dreamscape was alive with flowers. Warden had grown nothing here. His dreamscape was barren, like an abandoned house, down to the dust on the ground.

‘Our dreamscapes are where we feel safest,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I feel safest like this.’

‘In a great emptiness.’ I paced the edge. ‘I think I prefer my poppies.’

‘Strange that the poppies are your place of safety. You were in terrible pain there.’

‘It’s where I met Nick.’

The golden thread reached from my spirit to his. It was as clear as the silver one that trailed behind me, pointing the way back to my own body.

‘This is surreal,’ I said. ‘How are we even speaking?’

‘In Gloss. Your spirit is intrinsically fluent, but once you return to your body, you will lose all command and knowledge of it. It is not a language for the living.’

‘Aren’t you living?’

‘I am neither living nor dead.’ He raised a hand to his chest, where the light ended. ‘Behold the golden cord. Have you seen enough, Paige?’

‘Just about,’ I said. ‘Thanks for having me.’

He inclined his head. I let my silver cord lift me away.

Back in my own body, I sat up and heaved, eyes prickling. When I looked at my fingers, I saw their very tips were grey. I really did miss Danica.

Warden raised himself on to his elbows. The golden light in his eyes guttered, then settled and calmed, before he got up and returned to his chair. Once my heart had slowed, I shifted a little closer to the fire.

That was probably the most intimate experience I had ever had with another person. Seeing the cord had made it real, sharpening my awareness of it.

‘Tell me,’ Warden said, ‘how do you find my dreamscape, Paige?’

‘I’m glad I saw it.’

‘I am also glad.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes. I was not in pain,’ he said. ‘I found it was pleasant to have company.’

‘That’s nice to know,’ I said quietly. ‘When I worked for Jaxon, I never thought I’d be able to use my gift without hurting someone. Before I knew what I was, all I could really do with it was cause pain.’

‘You did not know what you were doing.’

‘Oh, I did. I didn’t know how, but I knew who was making people bleed. I knew who was giving them headaches. Whenever they sneered at me – whenever they brought up the Molly Riots – they would start hurting. Even when I was ten, I liked it. It was my small act of vengeance.’

‘Nick was the one who told you what you were.’

‘As you’re well aware.’

My tone was clipped. I could forgive him, but I wasn’t about to forget.

‘When a memory does not leave a great impression on a person, I see it out of focus, dark and faint,’ Warden said. ‘Your memories of him are extraordinarily sharp – full of colour, every sound clear as a bell. Every moment at his side was precious to you. You miss him.’

‘Keep telling me how I feel, and my patience with this golden cord is going to wear very thin, very quickly. Can you sense my growing irritation?’

‘Yes.’

I raised an eyebrow.

‘Some of your memories were locked fast,’ Warden said. ‘There is one in particular, quite recent. A knot in your flowers’ roots. It troubles you.’

‘Do you want to see it?’

The offer must have surprised him. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

‘You showed me your dreamscape by choice,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind, Warden.’

‘I desire to know you,’ he said, ‘but I would not see what you do not wish to share.’

‘You saw Dublin. That was the event that changed my life – when I came so close to death I could smell it, taste it. Anything else is small in comparison,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t be so cruel as to deny you one last glimpse. Nothing’s worse than a story without an end.’

‘Is this memory the end of your story, then?’

‘It’s the last chapter of my life before I came to you.’ I smiled joylessly. ‘And to think, I really thought it would be the worst night of my life in London.’

I thought I knew what this memory was. The only way to be sure was to dream.

Warden took his pillbox from his doublet. I accepted a green tablet.

‘This is the last one I will ever give you,’ he said. ‘Are you sure, Paige?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then sleep,’ he said. ‘I will do the rest.’