The Cloven by B. Catling

Author:B. Catling [Catling, B.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Historical, Dark Fantasy, Fiction
ISBN: 9781101972755
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2018-07-17T00:00:00+00:00

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Fleischer had heard about the new girl and decided to make a detour to see her. Wirth had told him of her uniqueness, a face and body that could command astonishing prices. He had invited Fleischer to be the first to “try” her, presumably after he and Amadi had sampled the goods. He had tried to put it to the back of his mind, but over the last two days it had escaped and rubbed itself against all his actions and thoughts. So now in the sweltering afternoon he gave in and made his way towards the promised delight.

The slave house was almost empty. Less than a third of the exhausted Limboia slept and moped about its locked interior. The stables, as they had become known, however, sounded busy. As he approached he saw the car of one of his parents’ best friends and decided that discretion was needed. For them both. He quickly walked to the front door of the warden’s house, which gave him a blind side to the stables. As he did so, he noticed a new structure had been built, which joined all three buildings. A low platform made of stout wood that rose four feet off the ground. A walkway, he supposed, as it was just wide enough for a person to stride. A walkway to keep Wirth’s boots clean from the mud and puddles in the rainy season. Probably a good idea, but he had not been consulted about it and it made him uneasy. He arrived at the door of the house and delicately knocked. No one moved inside. He knocked again and tried the handle. It was solidly locked. He thought about waiting outside but the heat was unbearable and any car coming or going to the stables would have seen him lurking about in a mindless state. Then he remembered that he still had the keys to the house on his chain. He fished them out while taking furtive looks at the road. The door opened and he stepped inside, which was cooler but stuffy, with a sickly animal musk about it. He knew that Wirth would not mind him taking shelter under the circumstances. There was a hum from a paraffin refrigerator in the kitchen and he helped himself to a beer from its pleasant temperature. He pottered about, touching things and trying to imagine the life of the alien pair in what had been the neat and tidy lives of the Maclishes’ home. So far he had not entered the house proper and only examined the tiny hall and kitchen. He now stood at the threshold to the interior rooms and noticed another new structure on the far wall. It appeared to be a flap or hanging door. His delineated mind quickly realised that it corresponded with the new walkway outside. This was all becoming very odd and inappropriate. Wirth was getting out of hand, cutting sections out of the fabric of the building. And what

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