Red Shift (New York Review Books Classics) by Alan Garner

Author:Alan Garner [Garner, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781590174432
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2011-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

She was grinding rye by the hut doorway. Macey fed the grain to the upperstone as it whirled and rang upon the cockhead of the nether, and the flour swept white arms in a curve.

“What do you see?”

“No Macey,” he said.

“Has he gone?”

“I reckon.”

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Some place better for killing.”

“Do you want him back?”

“I’m not much, else.”

“But you see more.”

“I don’t want to. If he came back, he wouldn’t let me see, wouldn’t Macey. But he’s somewhere killing now. He won’t help me.”

“What do you see?”

“Frightened. Scared.”

“Is it close? Do you see close?”

“I don’t know. He’s scared, caught, yes, both.”

“Who?”

“Him. They’re both.”

“Can you go to him?”

“Yes.”

“Go to him.”

“Yes.”

“Are you with him?”

“Yes.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at him.”

“He—they—too scared. It’s blue silver! Always blue silver! I want Macey!”

“Hush. It’s all right.”

“But I can’t help my mates. Seeing lies is daft.”

“No lies,” she said.

“Where the hell am I?”

“With me,” she said. “Won’t I do?”

“Oh, you’ll do!” he said, and laughed. “Happen I shan’t let Macey back—in case he’s jealous!”

She stroked his head. The mill stopped.

Magoo came into the hut and kicked Macey. “Out.” He pulled the girl across to the dark side of the hut.

“You mustn’t. Logan said.”

“Logan knows what he can do.”

“And he’ll do it,” said Logan. He picked Magoo up and threw him out of the door onto the rock, stunning him. Face watched from the summit.

“Why don’t you go and find yourself some heads,” said Logan, “and cool off, before I have to kill you?”

Magoo squirmed for breath. “I’d—like to—get yours—”

“You can’t afford the luxury.”

“I—bloody know—that—”

“You also know the girl’s not to be touched. She might abort. You keep off her.”

“Macey was in there.”

“Macey can’t hurt her.”

“What’s it matter, anyroad?”

“She’s carrying the new Ninth.”

“The what?”

“We breed. We reissue.”

“One kid—!”

“It’s a start.”

“If it’s a girl—”

“Then we build up stock.”

Logan climbed to take over duty from Face.

Magoo examined his bruises. “That bugger thinks he’ll live for ever.” He chose a sword, hung it on his back and went to patrol the limits of the mountain.

“Watch him,” said Face to Logan. “See how he walks. He’s used to crags. Where did he enlist?”

“Some place on the Danube, I think,” said Logan. “Or the northern frontier. I forget. Why?”

“He’s too good. He adapted just like that. And these heads. He’s keen. He wants them. And you’ve seen him do it, no messing. The real thing.”

“So? All you Celts do it.”

“But none like the Mothers. He isn’t acting. He is one.”

“How?”

“Deserted? Re-enlisted, to get back home?”

“You sure?”

“I reckon. I know these tribes. And you should’ve seen him when you broke that snake. He was for shouting.”

“What do you figure?”

“We’re OK as long as we’re on Mow Cop,” said Face, “and as long as the Cats aren’t over-run too much. But if he gets word to his own, he’ll sell us down the river—and you first.”

“He was in action at York. They were Mothers.”

“Uniform,” said Face. “It does things. And it makes no odds. If Mothers stopped feuding long enough, your lot wouldn’t hold them. He was probably taking care of some family business at York.

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