The Source - Michael Cordy [85]
'What was that?' he said.
Sister Chantal laid a hand on his arm. 'Wait, Ross,' she said. 'The caves at the far end of the garden, no one must go into them without me.'
Hackett rubbed his eyes. 'Why not?' he said.
'Because I'm the Keeper,' she said.
'The what?' said Mendoza.
'Just do as she says,' Ross told them.
'What is this place?' said Hackett.
Sister Chantal placed a finger over her lips. 'No more questions. It'll be dark soon.' She knelt by the lake, filled her cupped hands with the phosphorescent water and proffered it to them. 'Drink from the stream and the lake. Eat fruit from the trees. Get some sleep. You may see small creatures in the garden but they're harmless. Just don't go into the caves. Tomorrow everything will become clearer.' She smiled at Ross. 'Much clearer.'
She walked away from them to a raised area with a neat mound of small stones. Ross watched her kneel beside it to pray. He wanted to ask her more questions, but he knew better than to intrude now. Like the others, he knelt and drank from the lake. The water had a distinctive sodium taste that reminded him of a French mineral water he had never liked: Badoit. He ate strange fruit from the trees, which tasted better. Their flavours were familiar but hard to place – like packaged mixed-fruit juices. In one fruit, the size of an apple, he thought he could taste pomegranate, passion fruit and cherry.
As dusk closed the eye of the garden, he realized he was exhausted. He didn't bother with the hammock or the mosquito net, just rolled out his sleeping-bag on the soft grass and lay down. The others did the same, as if they understood that they were safe.
Before he closed his eyes he looked once more into the dark, still lake and saw countless stars reflected in it. Then he noticed that the night sky at the top of the funnel was cloudy. The bright spots in the water were shards of crystal lying at the bottom, their luminosity revealed by the darkness of the night. Their beauty filled his mind with more questions. Then, mercifully, he slept.
Sister Chantal slept better than she could remember. Curled up beside the mound of stones, away from the others, she dreamt that she was free.
Released from her vow.
Recompensed for her sacrifice.
Reunited with the one she had lost.
She woke once during the night, when everyone was asleep, and wandered to the lake. As she drank she indulged her vanity for the first time since she had made her vow and inspected her reflection in the water. What she saw saddened her. Where once the face had been young, beautiful and full of hope, it was now old and spent.
Would he still care how she looked? The thought made her smile, and joy surfaced through the sadness. Her wait had been so long, but the hardest part was over. Soon she could surrender her burden and rejoin him.
She sighed. 'Soon,' she whispered, as she returned to her sleeping-bag. 'Soon.'
51
The next morning Osvaldo Mendoza woke first. He staggered to his feet and went to a corner of the garden, concealed by bushes. Before he had opened his fly, he realized that the constant pain in his head had gone. When he stopped peeing he noticed something even more remarkable. Something that made him stand rock-still for more than a minute, stunned. He fell to his knees and prayed.
Ross woke during a dream he couldn't remember, except that it had involved Lauren and made him happy for the first time in weeks. He didn't want to wake, but Hackett was shaking him.
'Wake up, Ross.'
He blinked. 'Why? What's going on?'
'You've got to see this place. It's amazing.'
Ross rolled over. Why, when he was having the best sleep in ages, had Hackett chosen this moment to get overexcited? 'I know it's amazing. I'm here. I can see it.'
'But, Ross, I can see it, too.'
'Nigel, what the hell are you talking about?'
'Give me your hand.' Hackett grabbed at his broken wrist but instinctively Ross snatched it away. 'Give me