Voices in the Dark by Catherine Banner Page B

branch gave way as he caught my hand, and we both went down together.
    It was not far to fall in the end, but it still knocked the breath out of my lungs. We lay for several long seconds without letting each other go. Then Michael said, ‘Anselm, are you all right?’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, and coughed.
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes. Are you?’
    ‘I think so.’ He sat up. ‘I tell you, if these plants hadn’t been here …’There was a tangle of briars and thornbushes growing up against the wall, and they had broken our landing. I was still gasping for breath, so I lay where I was. The wind was rising all the time, and there was drizzle in it now. ‘Let’s go to the old carriage,’ he said. ‘Before it gets any worse. I’m sorry; I thought that branch would hold out.’
    We were both limping when we stood up, and it made me laugh, though it was not really funny. We struggled to the old carriage, and Michael struck a match to light us up the steps. In the wavering flame, his face was paler and older. He blew out the match, and we could see faintly by the moonlight alone. Damp had eaten away the coach furnishings, but the leather seats were still intact in places. The wheels on one side were broken, making the coachlean drunkenly, its two lamps out of line. The front window was cracked, and a light dusting of mould covered the cushion behind my head. We always kept candles here, under the coach seat. Michael reached for one of the lamps, took off the mildewed glass globe, put a new candle in, and lit it. The flame steadied and brightened. The sky outside turned to a deep indigo against the glass, a thousand miles wide. ‘Do you remember that summer when we came here every day?’ said Michael.
    ‘And the time when we came looking for ghouls.’
    ‘My God, I’ve never been so scared in my life.’ He shook his head. ‘Except maybe now.’
    I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. ‘What are you scared of?’ I said.
    ‘I don’t know.’ He rested his cheek against the window and sighed. ‘Anselm, everything is wrong with the world. Our shop is finished. My family has been here for generations. What do we have now? My father says when the Alcyrians arrive, it will go hard for us, because he was in the resistance. He says it’s better to leave now with our dignity. But dignity doesn’t keep you safe. I wish I had something to believe in. And I keep thinking …’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Anselm, what if the Imperial Order does win? I don’t want to be fighting against the world all my life. But I don’t want to keep my head down.’
    ‘They can’t win,’ I said. ‘The king won’t let them. And Titanica is the strongest country on the continent, and they’ve already sent troops in.’
    ‘But it’s not just a country, the Imperial Order. It’s everywhere.’
    As if in answer, there was a burst of gunfire. It had beentoo much to hope that the rioting was over for good. ‘We
    should get back,’ I said. But neither of us moved.
    ‘Anselm, look at this,’ said Michael.
    He took a crumpled sheet of newspaper out of his pocket and put it into my hand. It was too dark to see it properly. ‘What is it?’ I said.
    ‘People are disappearing,’ he said. ‘Not just in Alcyria, but also here. A man who was with the resistance under Lucien’s government. A woman teacher who spoke out about the Imperial Order in her town. They can get you for anything. If you go to Mass when they have called a curfew, or come from the wrong country, or have powers, or if you fall in love with the wrong person. That’s two years in jail.’
    The candle spluttered with a strange human sound and went out. I struck a match. Michael was sitting far away from me, his coat pulled up to his face, and shadows moved in his eyes. ‘Anselm, sooner or later, people who don’t agree with them will have to fight,’ he said. ‘And I’m scared to think of where it’s going to end.’
    ‘It might not come to that,’ I said. ‘In