Kill the Dead



The strains of music spearing out of the hostel door were wonderful to the extent almost of sorcery. They fell in the compound in shards, like the morning sunlight. Pigeons paraded, cooing in bemused fascination. A cat lay not far off, eyes narrowed, belly tilted to the sun, apparently a music lover and not hungry.

As he made the music, a sense of glorious well-being invaded the musician. When he left off, high waters of debility swept back in on him. Panting and dizzy, he set the instrument aside and curled on the bed. Silence. A cat leaped past the door, and the pigeons leaped into the air. A woman with terracotta hair came over the threshold.

Myal looked at her uneasily. Most women intrigued and scared him. Quite a few men too, for that matter. But then he relaxed. The woman had a sweet and satiated look. Her heart belonged somewhere that was not here. She was totally unobtainable: safe.

“You’ve a great knack with music,” she said.

“Oh, thank you.” Myal smiled modestly.

“Parl Dro,” said the woman, “left the village an hour before sunup.”

Myal’s face flattened with dismay. He sat up, went white, and lay down again. “That’s that then.”

“Not necessarily. If you were fit to travel by tomorrow.”

“I won’t be, anyway. Anyway, I can’t catch him up again. Anyway, what’s in it for you?”

He could guess what had been in it for her. So this was the type that attracted King Death. Very nice too. But why was she interested in Myal?

“I read the blocks. They showed the two of you. There’s a balance that needs you both.”

“Did he tell you about–?”

“Ghyste Mortua? I know about it. I have reason to bear a grudge against the deadalive in that place.”

“It’s all a story,” said Myal slyly.

“Like the thing in here last night?”

Myal involuntarily glanced behind him. Despite the unguents of the priests, despite the exorcism, he had not slept easily in this room. Only illness had let him sleep at all, drugging him with inertia.

“Well, a good story. Maybe true.”

“There was a town,” she said, low, staring at him, seeing not him, but images in her mind. Myal, lying dizzily watching her, began to see them too.