Read Online Declare by Tim Powers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tim Powers
Tags: Literature
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offense.” He was looking away from Hale, squinting toward the rising sun. “Probably you’ll be leaving the country illegally. There will in that case be a warrant issued for your arrest, charges of treason and whatnot. We’ll see that it’s all dismissed, afterward.”
“I’m to be… a spy?” Having grasped the concept and come up with the word, Hale was too exhausted to go on and make a judgment about it.
“Would it upset you to be?”
“Ask me after I’ve had about twelve hours of sleep,” said Hale absently, “and a big plate of eggs and bacon and grilled tomatoes, and a couple-or-three pints.” Then he blinked around at the craters and the outlines of foundations, the rectangular pits of forlorn cellars, and his yawn was more from sudden nervousness than from exhaustion. This broken city was London, this besieged country was his own England, the England of Malory and More and Kipling and Chesterton—of lamp lit nights with the rain thrashing down beyond the leaded-glass windows over miles of dark Cotswold hills, of sunny canoeing on the placid Windrush, the England his poor Tory mother had loved—and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t ache to defend it against any further injury.
“No, actually,” he said then. “No, I don’t think it would upset me, working for the Crown.”
Theodora had crouched beside a bush dotted with pale-yellow flowers. “All these flowers are supposed to be extinct,” he said, “grown from seeds that were preserved under the old floors, freed at last and thrown onto plowed ground, rich now with ash.” His gaze was oddly intent when he squinted up at Hale. “Do you know what this flower is? Sisymbrium irio , known as the London Rocket. It bloomed all over the City right after the Great Fire of 1666.” He picked two of the little flowers and handed one to Hale after he straightened up.
“London recovered from that,” observed Hale, dutifully sniffing the thing. “They rebuilt her.”
“Perhaps it was the flowers that sustained her life. Some can do that, I think.” Theodora glanced back, so Hale did too—the four surveillance men were following them at a distance. “Of course,” said Theodora, “you won’t say anything to this recruiter about me , nor about having been to that building where we met. You’re a very clean player—your mother was admirably thorough, for an amateur, about leaving no tracks; even ‘Hale’ isn’t the name under which she joined her religious order. Oh I say, you did know about that, didn’t you?” When Hale smiled wanly and nodded, the older man went on, “Well, we’ve advanced a pawn here, and it’s Red’s turn to move. You won’t see me again for a while, after this morning; they can’t possibly be aware of you yet, which is why I’m able to talk to you face-to-face. Whenever you come back, we’ll meet again and I’ll have a lot of questions for you.”
“ ‘Come back,’ ” echoed Hale. “From where?”
Theodora gave him an irritable look. “From wherever they send you, where did you think? You’ll know when it’s time to make your way back to England, and if you’re clever you’ll even find a way. I will almost certainly be aware of it when you return, and meet you; but if I can’t meet you, wait for me—that is, don’t tell anyone about me, nor about your secret purposes. Not even Churchill.”
Perhaps from memory, Hale heard in his head a young woman’s voice say, in French, You were born to this —and he shivered, not entirely in alarm. “What are my… ‘secret purposes’?”
“Tell me about your dreams.”
Hale sighed, then deliberately tucked the stem of his little London Rocket into the buttonhole of his lapel. “All right.” This seemed to be a morning outside of time, in which anything at all could be said, no matter how crazy-sounding, without immediacy nor fear of skepticism or judgment. “Do you remember the ‘wheels within wheels’ in Ezekiel… ?”
Two mornings
“I’m to be… a spy?” Having grasped the concept and come up with the word, Hale was too exhausted to go on and make a judgment about it.
“Would it upset you to be?”
“Ask me after I’ve had about twelve hours of sleep,” said Hale absently, “and a big plate of eggs and bacon and grilled tomatoes, and a couple-or-three pints.” Then he blinked around at the craters and the outlines of foundations, the rectangular pits of forlorn cellars, and his yawn was more from sudden nervousness than from exhaustion. This broken city was London, this besieged country was his own England, the England of Malory and More and Kipling and Chesterton—of lamp lit nights with the rain thrashing down beyond the leaded-glass windows over miles of dark Cotswold hills, of sunny canoeing on the placid Windrush, the England his poor Tory mother had loved—and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t ache to defend it against any further injury.
“No, actually,” he said then. “No, I don’t think it would upset me, working for the Crown.”
Theodora had crouched beside a bush dotted with pale-yellow flowers. “All these flowers are supposed to be extinct,” he said, “grown from seeds that were preserved under the old floors, freed at last and thrown onto plowed ground, rich now with ash.” His gaze was oddly intent when he squinted up at Hale. “Do you know what this flower is? Sisymbrium irio , known as the London Rocket. It bloomed all over the City right after the Great Fire of 1666.” He picked two of the little flowers and handed one to Hale after he straightened up.
“London recovered from that,” observed Hale, dutifully sniffing the thing. “They rebuilt her.”
“Perhaps it was the flowers that sustained her life. Some can do that, I think.” Theodora glanced back, so Hale did too—the four surveillance men were following them at a distance. “Of course,” said Theodora, “you won’t say anything to this recruiter about me , nor about having been to that building where we met. You’re a very clean player—your mother was admirably thorough, for an amateur, about leaving no tracks; even ‘Hale’ isn’t the name under which she joined her religious order. Oh I say, you did know about that, didn’t you?” When Hale smiled wanly and nodded, the older man went on, “Well, we’ve advanced a pawn here, and it’s Red’s turn to move. You won’t see me again for a while, after this morning; they can’t possibly be aware of you yet, which is why I’m able to talk to you face-to-face. Whenever you come back, we’ll meet again and I’ll have a lot of questions for you.”
“ ‘Come back,’ ” echoed Hale. “From where?”
Theodora gave him an irritable look. “From wherever they send you, where did you think? You’ll know when it’s time to make your way back to England, and if you’re clever you’ll even find a way. I will almost certainly be aware of it when you return, and meet you; but if I can’t meet you, wait for me—that is, don’t tell anyone about me, nor about your secret purposes. Not even Churchill.”
Perhaps from memory, Hale heard in his head a young woman’s voice say, in French, You were born to this —and he shivered, not entirely in alarm. “What are my… ‘secret purposes’?”
“Tell me about your dreams.”
Hale sighed, then deliberately tucked the stem of his little London Rocket into the buttonhole of his lapel. “All right.” This seemed to be a morning outside of time, in which anything at all could be said, no matter how crazy-sounding, without immediacy nor fear of skepticism or judgment. “Do you remember the ‘wheels within wheels’ in Ezekiel… ?”
Two mornings
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