It’s five days after that when Viktor Moskalev dies, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, of a heart attack in his sleep. It is something of a surprise to the world community when, in the immediate aftermath of his death, the Supreme Court of the country unanimously votes in emergency session to appoint his wife, Tatiana, as interim leader. In the fullness of time there would be elections in which Tatiana would stand for office, but the most important thing is to maintain order at this difficult time.
But, says Tunde in his report, Tatiana Moskalev may have been easy to underestimate; she was a political operator of skill and intelligence and had evidently used her leverage well. In her first public appearance, she wore a small gold brooch in the shape of an eye; some said this was a nod to the growing popularity of ‘Goddess’ movements online. Some pointed out how very difficult it is to tell the difference between a skilful attack using the electrical power and an ordinary heart attack, but these rumours were without any evidential foundation.
Transfers of power, of course, are rarely smooth. This one is complicated by a military coup spearheaded by Viktor’s Chief of Defence, who takes more than half the army with him and manages to oust the Moskalev interim government from Chisinau. But the armies of women freed from chains in those border towns are, broadly and instinctively, with Tatiana Moskalev. Upwards of three hundred thousand women passed through the country every year, sold for the use of their moist bodies and fragile flesh. A great number of those have stayed, having nowhere else to go.
On the thirteenth day of the fifth month of the third year after the Day of the Girls, Tatiana Moskalev brings her wealth and her connections, a little less than half her army, and many of her weapons to a castle in the hills on the borders of Moldova. And there she declares a new kingdom, uniting the coastal lands between the old forests and the great inlets and thus, in effect, declaring war on four separate countries, including the Big Bear herself. She calls the new country Bessapara, after the ancient people who lived there and interpreted the sacred sayings of the priestesses on the mountaintops. The international community waits for the outcome. The consensus is that the state of Bessapara cannot hold for long.
Tunde records it all in careful notes and documentations. He adds, ‘There is a scent of something in the air, a smell like rainfall after a long drought. First one person, then five, then five hundred, then villages, then cities, then states. Bud to bud and leaf to leaf. Something new is happening. The scale of the thing has increased.’
Roxy
There’s a girl on the beach at high tide, lighting up the sea with her hands. The girls from the convent watch her from the clifftop. She’s waded into the ocean up to her waist, higher. She’s not even wearing a bathing suit – just jeans and a black cardigan. And she’s setting the sea on fire.
It’s coming on to dusk, so they can see it clearly. Threads of kelp are spread in a fine, disorderly mesh across the surface of the water. And when she sends her power into the water, the particulate and debris glow dimly, and the seaweed brighter yet. The light extends in a wide circle around her, lit from beneath, like the great eye of the ocean gazing at the sky. There’s a sound like popping candy as the branching limbs of the sargasso plants smoulder and the buds swell and burst. There’s a marine scent, salt and green and pungent. She must be half a mile away, but they can smell it from the clifftop. They think at any moment she must have used out her power, but it goes on; the flickering luminescence in the bay, the scent as the crabs and small fish rise to the surface of the water.
The women say to one another: God will send her salvation.
‘She has inscribed a circle on the face of the waters,’ says Sister Maria Ignacia. ‘She is at the boundary of light and darkness.’
She is a sign from the Mother.
They send word to Mother Eve: someone has come.
They’d given Roxy a choice of places to go. Bernie’s got family in Israel; she could go to them. Think about it, Rox, sandy beaches, fresh air, you could go to school with Yuval’s kids; he’s got two girls about your age, and you’ve got to believe the Israelis aren’t locking girls up for doing what you can do. They’ve already got them in the army, they’re already training them up, Rox. I bet they know stuff you haven’t even thought of. She looks it up on the internet, though. They don’t even speak English in Israel, or write with English letters. Bernie tries to explain that most people in Israel do speak English, really, but Roxy still says, ‘Nah, don’t think so.’
Then her mum had family near the Black Sea. Bernie points it out on the map. That’s your grandma comes from there; you didn’t ever meet your grandma, did you? Your mum’s mum? There are still cousins there. Still family connections; we do good business with those people, too. You could get in with the business, you said you want to. But Roxy had already decided where she wanted to go.
‘I’m not thick,’ she said. ‘I know you’ve got to get me out of the country, cos they’re looking for who killed Primrose. It’s not a holiday.’
And Bernie and the boys had stopped talking and just looked at her.
‘You can’t say that, Rox,’ said Ricky. ‘Wherever you go, you just say you’re on holiday, all right?’
‘I want to go to America,’ she said. ‘I want to go to South Carolina. Look. There’s that woman there, Mother Eve. She does them talks on the internet. You know.’
Ricky said, ‘Sal knows some people down that way. We can fix you up somewhere to stay, Rox, someone to look after you.’
‘I don’t need anyone to look after me.’
Ricky looked at Bernie. Bernie shrugged.
‘After all she’s been through,’ said Bernie. And that settled it.
Allie sits on a rock and dabbles her fingers in the water. Every time the woman in the water discharges her power she can feel it, even at this distance, like a sharp smack.
She says in her heart: What do you think? I’ve never seen anyone with this much strength in her.
The voice says: Didn’t I tell you I was sending you a soldier?
Allie says in her heart: Does she know her destiny?
The voice says: Who does, sweetpea?
It’s dark now, and the lights from the freeway are barely visible here. Allie dips her hand into the ocean and sends out as much charge as she can. She barely sends a flicker across the water. It’s enough. The woman in the waves walks towards her.
It’s too dark to see her face clearly.
Allie calls out, ‘You must be cold. I have a blanket here, if you want it.’
The woman in the water says, ‘Bloody hell, what are you, search and rescue? Don’t s’pose you’ve got a picnic there, too, have you?’
She’s British. This is unexpected. Still, the Almighty works in mysterious ways.
‘Roxy,’ says the woman in the water. ‘I’m Roxy.’
‘I’m …’ says Allie, and pauses. For the first time in a long while, she has the urge to tell this woman her real name. Ridiculous. ‘I’m Eve,’ she says.
‘Oh my word,’ says Roxy. ‘Oh my Lord, it’s only you I’ve blimmin’ come to find, isn’t it? Bloody hell, just got in this morning; night flight, it’s a killer, I’m telling you. Had a nap, thought I’d go looking for you tomorrow and here you bloody are. It’s a miracle!’