the Dark shall do what Light cannot (LiGa Book 2) Read online

  Also by Sanem Ozdural

  LiGa™

  “May you see nothing that should not be”

  There is a place called Pera which lies beyond the Light Veil, on the other side of reality. There are light trees there that eat sunlight and bear fruit that, in turn, lights up and energises (literally) the community of Pera. There are light birds that glitter in the night because they have eaten the seed of the lightberry. The House of Light and Dark, which is the domain of the Sun and her brother, Twilight, welcomes all creatures living in Pera. But in the midst of all the glitter, laughter and songs, it must be remembered that the lightberry is poisonous to the non-Pera born, and the Land is afraid when the Sun retreats, for it is then that Twilight walks the streets...

  In Pera, as in our world, there is deceit and cruelty. There are people who would harm defenceless children, and those who would jeopardise the health and wealth of their communities for personal gain. What happens, though, when the Sun is not able to shine her light into the repulsive crevices of humanity? When, with all the goodwill in the world, we cannot keep the children safe, or the forests intact. What happens when the rivers are polluted irreversibly, and we can hear the land groan: barren and toxic? And the people have lost their savings, their homes and their communities...

  Then, the Dark shall do what Light cannot.

  With some of the characters that we originally met in LiGa™, Sanem Ozdural’s first novel, the Dark shall do what Light cannot transports us from New York to the colourful and wonderful world of Pera. On the way we meet the pirate Patron and her ship the Flying Fish, the only one that can sail through the Light Veil; Orion (Imm.), the Hunter, respected by some and feared by others; and Shadow, the formidable soul of Pera.

  Where he walks

  Dare you?

  In the black of Night, when the Land cowers with fright

  Do you?

  (From the Book of Shadow)

  the Dark shall do

  what Light cannot

  Sanem Ozdural

  Elsewhen Press

  the Dark shall do what Light cannot

  First published in Great Britain by Elsewhen Press, 2015

  An imprint of Alnpete Limited

  Copyright © Sanem Ozdural, 2015. All rights reserved

  The right of Sanem Ozdural to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, telepathic, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. All rights reserved.

  Elsewhen Press, PO Box 757, Dartford, Kent DA2 7TQ

  www.elsewhen.co.uk

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-1-908168-64-1 Print edition

  ISBN 978-1-908168-74-0 eBook edition

  Condition of Sale

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  Elsewhen Press & Planet-Clock Design are trademarks of Alnpete Limited

  Converted to eBook format by Elsewhen Press

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, law enforcement organisations, pirates and events are either a product of the author’s fertile imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, seamen (and women), policemen (blind or otherwise), places or people (living, dead or immortal) is purely coincidental.

  To Equity

  Contents

  TO PERA

  IN PERA

  TO PERA

  1

  “In the arms of the River: both Judge and Forgiver...”

  Ten minutes… he still has at least ten minutes…

  Professor Henry Jenkins (Imm.), known as Shady to his friends, gazed unseeingly out of the bay window on the first floor of No. 14 into the darkening street. Absently, he fingered the three sleet marbles in his jacket pocket as he half-listened to the muted, crystalline notes of Evening Song. The boy has a good voice, he thought approvingly as the child continued to sing:

  “O Land, you have wronged your kin.”

  Where are you, Carl?

  “You are a foolish thing…”

  Probably I am being foolish, Shady told himself, fingering the thin, reddish-brown goatee coating his narrow chin. The boy sings well… It was easier to think of the child on the balcony. It kept one’s mind occupied; kept one from thinking of the possibilities…but after all, they were possibilities only, for there was still time. There were at least eight minutes before the end of Evening Song.

  “I have washed my face in the black waters of the River, O Land...”

  Shady knew the child who had been chosen to sing on Grandfather’s Alley this week. He smiled at the recollection of meeting the boy the previous Sunday evening, here, at No. 14: the original blind policeman’s headquarters. It was traditional for one of the blinders on duty to greet the week’s Singers. The Singers of Pera were all children aged ten or eleven. Seven Singers for each of Pera’s seven branches. Forty-nine children and their parents congregated on Sunday an hour before the start of Evening Song in the central hall on the ground floor of blinders’ headquarters. In the hall each youngster rose with a quiet solemnity and introduced him or herself with the words:

  “My brothers and sisters,

  Lest we forget.

  Let us never forget

  The timeless story.

  It is important: as it was then, it is now.”

  Shady recalled how the boy had approached him after the ceremony. He was ten years old and it was his first time as a Singer. He and his mother had stayed behind as all the other children and their parents left. Finally, when he was sure he was the last Singer, he had shaken free of his mother’s hand and sprung forward with a charming mixture of shyness and bravery. He had offered Shady his hand, which shook a little as the boy stood, practically vibrating with all the pride and excitement engendered by his new assignment. He had said clearly and loudly, “Sir, I am this week’s Singer for Grandfather’s Alley.”

  “It is important,” Shady had said gravely. “As it was then, it is now.”

  And the boy had breathed in deeply, as though savoring the enormity of the moment. “As it was then, it is now…”

  Still, the boy was alive and well, and singing… And Carl? May have lost track of time. It is possible he got too engrossed in one of his many projects and didn’t notice that Evening Song had already started, Shady thought, attempting to quell that niggling fear… no, the knowledge … that two immortals had already been killed – murdered, possibly – this past year, and Carl Volkswahr (Imm.), constitutionally punctual in all his endeavors, had still not arrived for blind policeman duty.

  “There is blood in the water…”

  No!

  At least six, maybe seven minutes left. The boy’s singing was not exact, of course. The important thing was the light. Shady stared out of the window, craning his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sky. Here in the narrow street, the Sun’s light appeared to retreat earlier, but Night was not yet awake. Evening Song had not ended.

  No, Carl has time…

  “There is blood in the water...”

&nb
sp; Although blind policeman’s patrol did not start until the end of Evening Song, Carl typically arrived before the children started to sing. That was Carl: thorough and punctual. But still…

  There is time…

  “And I took from the water your daughter’s tears,

  And I took from the water your daughter’s fears…”

  He has time…

  “With blood in my eyes, and the night at my back…”

  I don’t know where you are, Carl. I don’t feel anything. I can sense nothing from you… This was highly unusual because he and Carl shared the LiGa bond. They had survived the LiGa Bridge tournament and attained the coveted prize: immortality. They shared life. Even if Carl wants to block my thoughts, there would be something, some presence to be felt, Shady thought anxiously, glancing at his watch. There would not be nothing.

  Shady sighed, leaning his tall, lanky frame against the windowsill, listening to the exuberance in the ancient words telling the story of Pera in a song.

  “I will sing so that you will be warned.

  I will sing so your children will know,

  And your children’s children will know…”

  In his mind’s eye, he could see the slight form of the young boy all bundled up to protect him from the cold wind, for it was the start of the dormant season although Shady still thought of it as winter. The child would be standing on tiptoes on the third floor balcony of his home, Shady guessed. A balcony that was a poetic study in iron, with its soaring butterfly wings on either side, and a playful dolphin-like creature onto which the boy would be clinging with gloved hands, to sing as loudly and as beautifully as he could, in synch with all the other boys and girls throughout Pera – all standing on balconies, at open windows, some even on rooftops – the song of Twilight.

  “That the Sun is not gone; that she sleeps.

  And you will call me

  Twilight.”

  I must patrol with or without you, Carl. It is time...

  Shady climbed into his heavy overcoat and attached the patrolling blinder’s luminous black band to the upper portion of his left sleeve. He looked around the familiar room, stalling, perhaps… One last moment before the beginning of the evening’s patrol. A glance at the shelves that rose to the tall ceiling containing books of all kinds: some brought by fellow blinders to while away a lonely evening, or to read on an afternoon before one’s patrol. Some brought by Carl, perhaps…

  One last chance for Carl to show up…

  “And every day the Land is cowed and afraid at Twilight. It is important.”

  Before the Singer sang the last notes of Evening Song in a voice as bright and pure as starlight.

  “It is important: as it was then, it is now.”

  2

  Had it not been for the worry occasioned by Carl’s unexplained absence, Shady would have been looking forward to a solitary patrol with only the light birds for company, for he was a loner by nature with a penchant for midnight strolls. As it was, duty beckoned, and leaving a scribbled note for Carl, Shady stepped out of No. 14 and onto Grandfather’s Alley, a narrow, winding street on the northern part of the section of Pera known as the Cistern branch. Pera’s seven ‘branches’ obtained their designation from a well-known landmark. The heart of the Cistern branch was the Cistern Basilica. It was the oldest branch of Pera and it was considered sacred, for the Cistern was the only place in all of Pera where Shadow could be seen. It was fitting that the blind policemen originated here.

  The blind policeman’s headquarters, referred to simply as ‘No. 14’, was a three-story building of stone, with a narrow cream-colored façade and dark green detailing. Its straight, simple lines were in stark contrast to the unabashed artistry of its neighbors. Nevertheless, it appeared to have made one concession to fit in, for there was a poem in bold, flowing script glistening with a silvery, bluish glow (Moonlightsmear, naturally) above the entryway:

  May your patrol be free of woe and calamity;

  May you see nothing that should not be.

  As you are us, and we are you,

  May your patrol be free and true.

  It was dark in the street now. Full dark. Night had arrived. Twilight has woken, thought Shady. He walks now… And I walk where he walks. My first stop, though, must be the dark hall on Pirate’s Way, he thought grimly. The dark hall was located conveniently next door to the nearest police station in the Cistern branch, and was a favorite haunt of Pera’s police chief, Kalkan Kurt, affectionately known as the Rooster. On a Friday night, it was well known that the Rooster and his wife regularly enjoyed a game of sleet at the dark hall before heading out to dinner or a show.

  Despite his misgivings, as he stepped out into the cool, clear evening, Shady felt something of the excitement that had never quite left him, even now, after three full years in Pera. One never quite got used to being in this place. The wonder and beauty of it; where even the darkness was a full, layered thing, a black that breathed. Here is Twilight, Shady thought. He is truly with us. He walks here, in these streets.

  The pendulous teardrop of a streetlight was attached by a branch-like, sinuous iron arm to the lintel above the doorway of No. 14. Upon the lintel perched a light bird, which, species-wise was a close relative of the ubiquitous sea gull, albeit about two thirds the size, and further diverged from its sea-faring cousin by its diet of the lightberry. The bird scrutinized Shady momentarily as it fidgeted upon its metallic perch.

  “Hey, Dominic,” Shady called out, as he waved at the bird. “Want to go patrolling?”

  Upon hearing its name, the bird stretched its white, luminescent wings hesitantly, but remained on its perch.

  “Come on, lad, you might do some work for a change,” Shady urged, chuckling.

  The bird cocked its head and regarded Shady with one shiny black eye. Suddenly without warning, it had unfurled its wings in a whirl of moonlight white from the iron arm and swooped gracefully onto Shady’s shoulder.

  “There we are…” Shady said, reaching up to stroke the bird. “Now we can go. Dom, Carl’s missing,” Shady continued conversationally as they walked along the street. “I hope nothing’s happened to him.” Dominic uttered a noncommittal squawk as he dug his webbed feet further into Shady’s padded shoulder. He felt the sharpness of the bird’s talons even through the heavy fabric of his coat, but was in no mood to pay heed to minor discomforts.

  Shady followed Pirate’s Way – a winding street which runs perpendicular to Grandfather’s Alley – for about a kilometer to the dark hall known locally as the Pirate’s Way Dark Hall, which rose lyrically on the southwest corner. It was rumored to be the first dark hall, at least by the residents south of Nightingale Boulevard, the main thoroughfare of Pera. North of Nightingale, it was hotly contested that only the dark hall at kissing distance from the Cistern could possibly be the original one. The Cistern Dark Hall was indeed special, conceded south Nightingale, and they even went so far as to acknowledge that sleet may have been first played at the Cistern, but, one – meaning the northerners – must recognize that the first light tree grew at what was now the mouth of Pirate’s Way, so… it was only logical to conclude that sleet played with the seed of the light tree, and thereby in the dark halls, originated at Pirate’s Way. That is to say, the southerners continued – smugly, according to some of the more diplomatic backers of the northern camp – the Pirate’s Way Dark Hall must be the one and the first, the dawn, if you will, of the Light Game, as sleet was also known. Sleet is inextricably embedded in Pera, and it is therefore no small matter that the South Nightingale sleet team – a.k.a. SoNg – handily beat the North Nightingalers (Norga) on their home turf – the Cistern Dark Hall – in this year’s Games of Pera.

  In any event, it was not upon this controversy that Shady’s mind dwelled as he approached the curving doorway of the dark hall. The entire façade of the building was covered in a slanting curtain of bright points of light. Behind the sheet of light lay lace-like stonework of exquisite beauty. Before en
tering, Shady looked to the left of the building where a tree stood in a small clearing. The first light tree. Its age was unknown, but its girth measured two meters, and it was as high as ten men. Its thick branches were knotted and gnarled like an ancient arthritic giant’s fingers. But its most remarkable feature was its color. Not so much a color as the lack of it. This tree was the color of the consumption of light. Unlike other plants that use sunlight as a synthesizing agent, this tree absorbed light; hence it was dark. It is how I imagine a dark hole would appear, thought Shady, as he had when he had first laid eyes on Pera’s light trees.

  The trees in the light farms outside the city limits were shorter, straighter and altogether more domesticated than their wild ancestor, for they had gone through generations of selective breeding to produce the plumpest berries with thick skins and oily flesh.

  Shady walked around the tree, running his hand along its black bark, peering into the branches. He smiled as he reached for a small, shriveled berry that must have been too little temptation for the light birds. Holding the fruit from its stem, he placed it on the fence surrounding the tree, and picking up a twig from the ground, carefully removed the withered flesh. It would not do to handle the lightberry with bare hands for it was lethal poison to the non Pera-born. Nevertheless, Shady could not resist, for within the dark, oily flesh lay something altogether enchanting. Something that burned with a bluish, silver glow: like a firefly at rest. A tiny, pebble of a thing, perfectly spherical, perfectly beautiful, was the seed of the light tree.