'The Mayor described the island as his personal possession. We did not choose to disabuse him of this fact. We asked for permission to explore the island and study the artefacts here. He granted permission at the exorbitant price of a bolt of cloth, two pouches of tobacco, and all the trade goods we could muster for bargaining per day. The Mayor introduced us to Tortorro, the islander who was to become my guide and friend over the next month.' I paused for a moment, lost in painful memories, then continued. 'A man I was to betray and whose death at the hands of his fellow villagers was my responsibility alone.'

Tortorro was a stout fellow. Small, brown as a nut, he was possessed, as were many of the islanders, of startling red hair. His fingers were nimble, his smile ready and his wife beautiful. He himself was as ugly as sin. I shall never know what a woman of such uncommon loveliness saw in him.'

'Perhaps he was a good provider.'

'Undoubtedly, judging by his skills as a thief.' I paused, not wanting to remember more, but unable now to halt the flow of words, memories. 'It was this skill which ultimately proved such a tragic misfortune. We had been on the island for a fortnight Richards and myself studying the island culture, Captain Farmer, First Mate Keable and the rest of the crew taking advantage of the famed Polynesian hospitality. The village in which we were made welcome consisted of a number of long, low, reed huts resembling upturned boats, carpeted with gra.s.s and containing no furniture save a stone which served as a pillow. The huts had no windows, and doors so low that it was a trial to gain entrance.

Crops included bananas, sugar cane and sweet potatoes. The only animals on the island were fowl and a scattering of wild goats.

'It was as we turned our attention to the stone monoliths, the moai, moai, that Tortorro's child grew ill with a fever. We learnt that many of the island's children had died from such a fever. Tortorro was heartstruck. He loved that child like no other I have seen. He promised me anything if I could use the white man's magic to help his son. I took the child to the ship's doctor and the man produced a remedy within hours. Without it, the child would surely have died. Tortorro was ecstatic. The villagers held a feast in our honour. During the feast I took Tortorro aside and began the sequence of events which was to end in such tragedy. that Tortorro's child grew ill with a fever. We learnt that many of the island's children had died from such a fever. Tortorro was heartstruck. He loved that child like no other I have seen. He promised me anything if I could use the white man's magic to help his son. I took the child to the ship's doctor and the man produced a remedy within hours. Without it, the child would surely have died. Tortorro was ecstatic. The villagers held a feast in our honour. During the feast I took Tortorro aside and began the sequence of events which was to end in such tragedy.

'I wanted to gain access to certain caves on the Bird Men's Island, a short journey by canoe off the southernmost point of Rapa Nui. I had heard talk of certain religious artefacts hidden in caves there. Ancient tablets with writing inscribed on their surfaces. Writing which might give clues as to the spread of the red-haired people through this part of the world. Clues which might ultimately determine the origin of the people living on this little island in the middle of nowhere. The first step in what I fully expected to be an impressive career.

'Of course Tortorro refused my request. The caves were holy.

Transgression was punishable by madness and death, the method unspecific. I dismissed this as old wives' tales and insisted. After all, I had saved his son's life. At length, and with uncharacteristically bad grace, Tortorro relented. I persuaded Richards to come with us, to keep lookout for others. All I wanted to do was observe, perhaps sketch some of the glyphs I knew would be present on artefacts in the cave. I swear I wanted no more than that! But... when we were there... the sight of the tablets... the legacy they held... I'm afraid my scientific ambition got the better of me. I took one. I held it in my hands. The touch of it; the wood, so old, so intricately carved, it possessed me. It was lovely. It was more than lovely.'

'And then they found us. The priests had missed us at the feast and come looking for their guests of honour. And where did they find us?

Pillaging their holiest inner sanctum, a place no one outside the island culture had ever seen and which even the islanders themselves seldom visited.'

'I ran. I feared their reprisals. I feared Tortorro was right and that I had brought madness and death upon us all. But I could not leave the rongo-rongo. rongo-rongo. That tablet of wood from ages past held me enthralled, mesmerised as though by a stage hypnotist. I took it and I ran. I dived into the ocean. I left Richards when he fell, I left Tortorro, I left them both to their fate at the hands of their fellow islanders.' That tablet of wood from ages past held me enthralled, mesmerised as though by a stage hypnotist. I took it and I ran. I dived into the ocean. I left Richards when he fell, I left Tortorro, I left them both to their fate at the hands of their fellow islanders.'

'The rest you know. I have no explanation for the walking stones. I was quite mad with fear by then. At the time I considered myself lucky to escape with my life. Now... I wish I had died there. Or that I had never seen the wretched tablet. Or that Tortorro's son had died from the fever.

Anything. Anything at all, rather than endure again the nightmare my life has become since that night.'

By the time I finished speaking the afternoon had drawn in around us, the sun moving across the sky to paint the island in shades of red ochre and grey. I looked around, realising our perambulations had brought us to Ranu Raraku, the crater in which I had seen Tortorro succ.u.mb to madness, and in which I had left Alexander to die.

I felt my gaze drawn to the many great moai moai scattered around the crater. Hewn from the native rock by the islanders over many generations, the statues stood or lay in disarray around us. Their abandonment was a terrible irony: to erect such vast tonnages of rock required wood for scaffolds, levers, rollers. Wood meant tree trunks. Over the generations, the islanders had denuded their land in order to situate the scattered around the crater. Hewn from the native rock by the islanders over many generations, the statues stood or lay in disarray around us. Their abandonment was a terrible irony: to erect such vast tonnages of rock required wood for scaffolds, levers, rollers. Wood meant tree trunks. Over the generations, the islanders had denuded their land in order to situate the moai. moai. With the trees gone the topsoil had begun to surrender to the wind. Now food was scarce and grazing was next to impossible. The islanders had sacrificed everything to whatever vision drove them to build these vast monoliths. But why? With the trees gone the topsoil had begun to surrender to the wind. Now food was scarce and grazing was next to impossible. The islanders had sacrificed everything to whatever vision drove them to build these vast monoliths. But why?

I was on the point of asking the Doctor for his opinion when a sound like thunder rolled across the island. A storm?'

The Doctor looked up at the clear sky. 'That was no storm. That was cannon fire.'

I felt a surge of fear. 'Tweed 'Tweed has no cannon.' has no cannon.'

'I know. Come on.'

We turned and ran. The Doctor surged ahead. I struggled to keep up. I arrived some while later at the top of the cliffs overlooking Anakena Bay to see a new arrival there. Another ship. 'That's the Peruvian flag.'

'I know.' The Doctor drew me down among the scrubby gra.s.ses.

Cannon boomed again. Smoke blossomed on the Peruvian ship, halving the distance between itself and Tweed Tweed in seconds. in seconds.

Water burst from the sea off the stern of the ship.

'They fired on the ship! Are they pirates?'

'I think it's worse than that, Horace.' The fury in the Doctor's voice was matched - even surpa.s.sed - by his expression. 'I think they're slavers.'

As we watched, another six vessels tacked about the point of the bay.

All ran the Peruvian flag. All ran with cannon in the firing position.

Tweed and everyone on her was trapped. and everyone on her was trapped.

As I watched, Tweed Tweed ran up a white flag. Stuart, sensibly enough, had chosen to surrender rather than be sunk. ran up a white flag. Stuart, sensibly enough, had chosen to surrender rather than be sunk.

I hunched closer to the Doctor. 'If there are seven ships and they were anch.o.r.ed on the other side of the island, then that could mean -'

I stopped as harsh voices carried to us on the breeze. I risked a peek above the rocks of our makeshift hideout. Twenty Peruvian sailors were ambling across the rocks towards us. Though each was his own man, still they had several characteristics in common. For one they were weathered by a life at sea. Their skins were dark, bearded faces stained by the weather; their bodies contained no ounce of fat and their manner was that of a.s.sumed mastery of all they could kill or otherwise take for their own. Their clothing was rough and badly mismatched, with clashing colours and tarnished buckles. Shoulder harnesses held many pistols and bags of shot and powder, and each had a cutla.s.s swinging arrogantly at the hip. All were shouting and laughing. Many held flasks of wine from which they drank, tossing the empty bottles aside to smash upon the rocks.

One of the men suddenly leapt into the air and loosed a barrage of pistol shots by way of warning. A second later he and three other sailors fell to the ground with throwing knives buried in their backs. The knife blades were black, the grips bound tightly with cloth. Obsidian. The islanders had finally shown themselves. They attacked as I watched, a group of thirty or more, charging across the rocks and screaming at the tops of their lungs.

I could see that carnage was about to take place. The Doctor put his hand on my shoulder. 'Stay here. If you get the chance, slip over the cliff, try to find a cave. This place should be riddled with them.' Before I could answer he stood up. He intended to stop the fighting, but how I did not know. There were forty men of two nationalities, and each side bent upon killing as many as they could of the other.

'I say, is this a private altercation or can anyone join in?' The Doctor's words were spoken jovially enough. He was simply ignored.

The fight had become b.l.o.o.d.y. The sailors took no more casualties.

But of the islanders at least half were murdered, shot down in their tracks by the sailors. The Peruvians laughed as they killed. It was entertainment for them. Before too long had pa.s.sed the remaining islanders were disarmed and herded together as captives.

The Doctor strode forward, hands raised, for another attempt at defusing the situation. 'Gentlemen. I see we have a communications problem here. Perhaps I can be of some help in facilitating -'

He got no further. One of the sailors turned and shot him down without a thought, before returning his attention gleefully to his new acquisitions, the captured islanders.

17.

Dead City

Someone slapped me awake. I jerked into a sitting position, hand reaching for my dagger. It was not until the one who had touched me was on his back on the ground with my blade at his throat that I realised it was Stockwood. I mumbled something and put away my blade.

'I thought we were best friends,' he muttered, rubbing his neck.

I stood up and pulled him to his feet.

'You were unconscious, delirious - something about a childhood trauma. I thought you were going to die.'

I looked at Stockwood. He seemed exhausted.

'How long did I... ?'

He smiled. 'Cryuni did not come for your soul. I watched you. You were just asleep.'

Beside us on the ground lay Royston. He was unconscious, as he had been before the sun ate us, but at least his fever had diminished. Had the moai moai healed him as Atani had claimed? Had the great G.o.d Vai-tarakai-ua spared his life in response to the prayer from the healed him as Atani had claimed? Had the great G.o.d Vai-tarakai-ua spared his life in response to the prayer from the rongo-rongo? rongo-rongo? I did not know. All I knew was that he was breathing more easily and that now it was daytime, even though only moments before it had been night. I did not know. All I knew was that he was breathing more easily and that now it was daytime, even though only moments before it had been night.

I examined Royston more closely. The wound inflicted by the pirate DaBraisse had opened in his side. More blood had seeped into his clothes, the shirt which the Doctor had used as a bandage. I touched the wound. 'This will need to be closed again.' I wiped away the blood and took the sailor's needle and gut from my pouch. There were a few flying-fish scales in there as well, but they were dried and shrivelled, and they stank. I threw them away.

I st.i.tched the wound and looked around for something clean to cover it with. It was only then that I began to realise we were not on the island.

But where were we?

My first thought was that we were back in London, but a London that had grown old and died, and shrivelled as the dead fish scales had shrivelled. Then I looked again. This was not London. Even if the city had been alive, it would not have been anything like London.

There were many huts, more than I could count. They were tall, wide, round; their bases set close together upon a ground that seemed flat, though I could tell it was faintly curved. The nearest was an arm's length away. I touched it, withdrawing my hand immediately when I realised it was metal. All of the huts around me were metal. There were so many it was like being in a forest of thin, motionless trees. A mournful wind wound in between the huts, tugging every few moments at my skins. How many people lived here? Perhaps as many as had ever been born in the Land.

'How long has it been since the sun ate us?'

Stockwood looked puzzled. 'I'm not sure. I fell unconscious as well. I got an impression of travelling, of rushing through the darkness. I don't know how far.'

'The huts on the island are not like these'

'That's true. Perhaps we've been ill. Perhaps a hole in the cave...

blinded by sunlight, we could have fallen. Maybe we have been brought by clipper to another island and the others have gone to get help.'

I shook my head. 'This place does not smell like your land.'

'But still, another island...'

'I do not think so. It was night when the sun came out.'

'But -'

'No. The air here is dead. I have been in your land for many nine-days. I have seen many different places. The air did not smell like this anywhere I have been.'

'Well, what do you mean by "dead"?'

'It smells the way a corpse smells, long after it has died. No corruption, no rot. Just dust that was skin and muscle, organs and bone.'

'That's a horrible image.'

'It is the truth.'

Royston groaned. He stirred. For a moment I thought he would awake, but then he subsided into sleep again. Stockwood glanced at his friend. 'Will he live now?'

'I do not know. I am not a shaman. I do not know the healing ways like the Doctor. But he seems better than he was. I expect if he was going to die he would be dead by now.'

'That's hardly rea.s.suring.'

'Then we must find out where we are. And if we can get help for him.' I stood up.

'You're just going to leave him here?'

'I told you, this land is dead. There is nothing here to threaten him.'

I began to walk, moving warily through the forest of metal huts. Each was about as round as the huts in my own village, but they were so tall I could not see the tops of them. But their shadows were strange - shaped almost like faces. I craned my neck upward to see more clearly and was reminded of something I had already seen. These huts were not huts at all - they were giant heads, like the moai moai on the island, only many times larger and made of the holy metal. on the island, only many times larger and made of the holy metal.

As we moved the slope of the ground increased. It was as if we were walking up the inside of a bowl, but one that had been carved by a giant's hand. As the ground increased in steepness, so the angle of the huts changed, too. They began to lie flatter against the ground. Or, rather, they stayed the same, pointing straight up at the sky, while the ground lifted around them. What kind of village was this? There was no common land, no room to farm or graze animals, no soil to grow vegetables, no windows or doors in the huts. I did not understand. I shivered.

'I do not like this place. It is full of death. Old death. We must be very careful.'

Stockwood nodded. Moving past me, he climbed higher up the sloping ground, pulling himself by wedging his feet and hands between the huts. I followed.

Then Stockwood gave a shout. 'My sainted aunt!'

I increased my speed, climbing faster until I could see him a few yards away among the huts.

'Leela, be careful!'

I felt his arm at my waist and thought it was no bad thing. Without that I would have fallen over the edge of the ground. For the huts had come suddenly to an end and with them the curved ground formed into a broad lip and then simply stopped. We were on the outside edge of the bowl - and I realised with some amazement that we were not in a village at all.

The bowl was located high in the air, perhaps at the top of a mountain or large hill. It felt very high, high enough for clouds or fog. There was nothing. Just the sky, stretching out above us, pale, like a pond-skimmer's eggs. Two huge moons and a dark, sullen sun hung there. They were like eyes and a mouth in the sky, a face pa.s.sing judgement on us. Unsettled, I let my gaze fall towards the ground - and beyond. The mountain we were on was partially concealed by the lip of the ground, like the edge of a perfectly smooth cliff. I crawled carefully towards the edge and peered over. I gasped, I would have fallen if Stockwood had not grasped me again.

Neither of us had words to describe what we saw. For all around us the entire Land I could see that lay at the foot of the mountain was one vast village - a city, like London only much, much larger. I thought it must be at least as big as the entire distance we had travelled from England to Rapa Nui.

There was no sound except the moaning wind. No movement except the slow creep of dust. The huts - buildings - must have been as big as hills themselves, curving up out of the ground like the ribs of a corpse - of an army of corpses. Many of the buildings looked like faces.

Giant, stretched faces, with huge noses and deeply shadowed eyes. They too looked like the stone moai moai on the island. Except these were many times taller than trees. Or would have been if there had been any trees here. Many of the buildings had fallen and now lay in tilted ruin between the more intact shapes. The ground rose between the buildings in dunes, crawling slowly at the insistence of the wind. It was as if the dust had smothered the city and was now picking clean its bones. on the island. Except these were many times taller than trees. Or would have been if there had been any trees here. Many of the buildings had fallen and now lay in tilted ruin between the more intact shapes. The ground rose between the buildings in dunes, crawling slowly at the insistence of the wind. It was as if the dust had smothered the city and was now picking clean its bones.

For everywhere I looked the city was deserted. Ruined. Dead.