She did not respond, so he walked away.
Then, over the hubbub of the crowd of drinkers, he heard her say something. He stopped, turned back.
"What was that you said?"
"I told you my name," the woman said.
"I couldn"t hear you. It"s too noisy out here. Tell me again please."
"I didn"t mean to be discourteous, Tomak Tallant, and I apologize. I am sworn to modesty. I may speak my personal name in a public place only once, so I cannot repeat it now. I am merely a Spreader of the Word, and that is the only ident.i.ty I allow myself."
Tallant waved his hand with frustration, and left her. He pushed through the crowd in the yard outside the bar, then found the door that led into the hotel.
5.
The room was unclean and dark, lit only by a dim electric bulb hanging in the centre of the ceiling. The bed was an iron frame with a bare and much-stained mattress. A single loose sheet, also discoloured, had been laid across the mattress, and a small towel was folded over the end. The floor was uncovered boards, with splintering patches. The walls had apparently not been painted or cleaned in many years and were grey with filth or mould or simply drab from untended age. At least the shower cubicle looked as if it had been recently cleaned, even though the faucet and pipes were loose and the shower head was buckled and dented. He ripped off his robe and let it fall on the floor beside the bed.
The water in the shower was, as he might have expected, tepid rather than cold, but it ran with steady pressure and seemed untainted. He stood under it for several minutes, face up to the spray, letting it run across his closed eyes, over his shoulders and chest and legs, into the channels of his ears, in and out of his open mouth. He was blinded by the water, deafened by the running of it in his ears. Finally, with some reluctance he turned the tap and the spray ceased. He wiped his eyes with his fingers.
Only then did he realize he was no longer alone. The missionary woman had entered his room unheard and was standing by his closed door, staring at him. Tallant grabbed at the inadequate piece of towelling he had found on the end of his bed and held it over himself.
"There is no shower in my room," she said. "I hoped I might use yours."
She continued to stare at him, undisguisedly looking his body up and down. He was embarra.s.sed by the candour of her gaze, tried to rub himself dry by bending double and trying not to move the towel too far.
He said, "I"ll be finished in a moment. Then you may use the room without me being here."
"I have been watching you. You might as well watch me."
"No, I"d prefer-"
"I should like you to stay."
Giving up his futile efforts at modesty with the towel, Tallant flung it aside and grabbed the robe he had been wearing for days. The woman was already pulling apart the sash at the front of her robe, letting the loose garment fall open.
"I don"t want to embarra.s.s you," Tallant said. "You are a devout woman-"
"I am not a priestess, or a nun. The vows I have taken are personal ones. I am a lay field worker. I travel alone and the only text I shall ever read is contained in the holy book I carry with me. I am a true Spreader of the Word, which I shall never deny or renounce. But I am also a woman in good health and I have physical needs. Sometimes those needs become urgent."
He had his robe on now but because much of his body was still wet the thin fabric was sticking to his legs and arms, his back and chest, and it hung at an angle on him. She pushed past him, went straight into the shower cubicle and turned on the tap. She stepped into the spray still wearing her robe, then turned and leaned beneath the flow of water, holding out the fabric to cleanse it. When it was soaked through she pulled it from her and allowed it to lie on the floor of the cubicle, crushed under her bare feet as she turned around in the spraying water, raising her face and arms, sc.r.a.ping her fingers through her hair, soaping herself between her legs, over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, under her arms. She kept her eyes closed against the spray, apparently uncaring about his presence in the room.
Tallant watched her and moved closer so that he was standing beside the open door to the cubicle.
She had brought no towel with her so Tallant handed her the small one he had used, still damp. She wiped it over her face and hair, then tossed it aside. She went to Tallant, pulled his robe open with a brusque movement and pushed it away from his body. They made love on the bed.
She seemed to fall asleep after that, or at least lay still and calm, breathing steadily with her eyes closed. Her skin was shiny with perspiration.
"I still don"t know your name," Tallant said, lying beside her with his hand cupping one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He was wide awake. Her soft flesh felt fervent beneath his fingers, and he toyed with her nipple, which was at last becoming soft and seeming to shrink from him. He watched a teardrop of sweat forming on the side of her brow, running down to her shoulder, then plopping on to the filthy mattress. He was eagerly breathing the sweet scents of her body. The window was a gla.s.sless circle in the wall above them, and the raucous sounds of the drinkers in the yard outside drifted into the room. Over and around their own body aromas he could smell strong spirits, smoke, the unwashed sweat of others.
"I have told you once." Her eyes did not open, but she sounded fully awake.
"And I could not hear what you said. It was too noisy out there. We are in private now."
"My name is Firentsa, or that is the name by which you should know me. You must never address me as Firentsa when anyone else is around. I told you that I am sworn to modesty, but that was merely a simple promise made to the people who send me out on my missions. The Word demands that every promise made should be honoured."
"You didn"t mind me taking photos of you."
"They were irrelevant to me at the time."
"Don"t photographs threaten your modesty?"
"I am modest in word, not deed."
"What if I were to photograph you naked?"
"I am modest in word, not deed. You may do with me whatever you wish, in any depraved circ.u.mstances you choose. I know nothing about physical modesty because my body is simply what I have been given. There are some people who consider me shameless. But they are wrong, because I cannot for example speak the vulgar words that describe what you and I have just done together. But physical action is one thing, while silence is a judged option. That is my choice. What I cannot say out loud I exult in doing."
"Yes," said Tallant, thinking back.
"Many of the people who follow the same calling are alike."
"You spread the word."
"I do."
She opened her eyes, turned against him so that as her position changed his hand slipped from one breast to the other. He held the nipple lightly between two extended fingers.
"Do you know where we are?" he said.
"Do you mean where we are emotionally, or do you mean physically?"
"I mean where are we? Where on Prachous have we reached? Are we near the coast yet?"
"We"ll reach the sea tomorrow. Where we are at the moment I"m not sure exactly."
"That shanty town we pa.s.sed through, the settlement, the slum. I have never seen anything like it before."
"It"s the largest settlement on the island."
"Have you been there before?"
"I took the Word to Adjacent last year. I would not attempt it again."
"Were you threatened?"
"Ignored would be a more accurate description."
"How long were you there?"
"I persevered for a whole year. I would not return."
"I thought Prachous City was the largest on the island."
"It"s the capital, but Adjacent is more populous."
"What is that name you are using?" Tallant said.
"The shanty town is known as Adjacent."
"Adjacent to what?"
"I have no idea." Firentsa shifted position again, easing her back on the uneven mattress. "Would you like to do again what we did just now?"
"For which there are no words?"
"There are words, but I don"t want you to say them. Well, would you do it again?"
"Yes, but not yet."
"I thought you would."
"Soon. Tell me about Adjacent."
"There"s nothing I can tell you. It"s a social problem for which no solution has yet been found."
"How big is the shanty town?"
"You saw today how long it takes to cross it. The settlement spreads over a large part of the south-east corner of the island. More people constantly arrive, so it"s almost impossible to estimate the total population. When I was there last year it was thought there were about a million inhabitants, but it must be larger than that now."
"Who are they?" Tallant said. "Where have they come from? It"s supposed to be impossible to get past the border controls."
"The people in Adjacent have found a way. In theory they are all at risk of deportation."
"So how do they do it?"
"I"ve no idea."
"You said you were there. Didn"t you ask them?"
"I heard many answers, none of which I understood, and anyway I think none of the stories was true. Ask yourself, Tomak: how did you get to Prachous? Where were you before we met?"
Tallant felt a cold, familiar inner fear, something he habitually shied away from. He slid his hand away from her body, sat up. Someone outside in the yard was shouting, followed by several more yelling back. The music suddenly increased in volume. He heard laughter. The noises from the drinkers seemed remote from him, hidden behind a transparent screen. For the first time in weeks he felt chilled. The woman, Firentsa, did not sit up beside him, but she turned her face away so that she was gazing up at the ceiling. He saw the strong jaw, the high forehead. She was in repose, waiting for him to speak.
"Why did you ask me that?" he said.
"Because you don"t know the answer and neither do I. You are here, I am here. We are much the same."
"I have always been here," he said.
"So have I. How far back do your memories go?"
"All the way."
"As a child?"
"No. Not then."
"So it was later than that," she said. "How old were you when you arrived on Prachous?"
He swung his legs around and sat upright on the side of the lumpy mattress. He felt rationality was being tested by memory. He knew he was not a Prachoit but he had always been here on Prachous Island. There were times in the past when he had not been here but his memories were textureless, uninterrupted, a smooth continuity. He felt an agony of uncertainty, memory being tested by rationality.
He stood up.
"You do not know where we are," she said. "You have never before been to Adjacent. You do not know Prachous City, because if you did you would not call it that. You are not even sure in which the direction the sea might be. All these would be familiar to islanders, which tells me you have recently arrived. I think I have too."
"But you were here last year, working in the shanty town."
"I was spreading the word in Adjacent. That is true. I am certain of that as you are certain of your own memories. You seek inner peace. I know how I could offer you that. I have words that I love to speak."
"I don"t want them."
"Then ask me the same as I asked you."
"How did you come to this island?" he said. He was back beside the bed now, standing naked beside her, looking down at her. He could see his shadow thrown across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s by the single light-bulb in the ceiling. "You are not a Prachoit."
"I am a Spreader-"
"Come on, that"s just an evasion. What are you really, Firentsa?"
"You"re evading it too. We are both refusing to accept that our lives are not what we think they are. Come and lie down beside me again. We are here to do that together and my needs are still urgent."
"Say the words."
"I won"t."
"Then say again what you said about memory. That felt true."
"Do you remember how we met?" Firentsa said.
"We were walking together through the desert, heading south."
"But before that? Before the desert? Where were you and what were you doing?" The weak, shadowed light from the bulb did not reveal much of her to him now she further shaded herself by raising a knee. He could see all of her face, and some of the light from one of the floodlamps outside was reflecting back from the wall behind her. Her body interested him, but there was something about her he could not comprehend. "Before that, Tomak?" she said again.