Mordew

  First published in 2020

  by Galley Beggar Press

  Dover Street, Norwich, NR2 3LG

  All rights reserved

  © Alex Pheby, 2020

  The right of Alex Pheby to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

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

  A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library

  Text and eBook design by Tetragon, London

  ISBN 9781913111021

  eISBN 9781913111083

  For Elliot, Alice and Polly

  Contents

  Dramatis Personae

  Part One: The Flint

  Part Two: The Char Cloth

  Part Three: Pyrolysis

  Part Four: The Tinderbox

  Glossary

  Fragments Towards a Natural Philosophy of the Weft

  Acknowledgements

  If, during the reading of Mordew, you find yourself confused by all the unfamiliar things, there is a glossary at the back.

  Be careful. Some entries contain information unknown to the protagonist.

  There is a school of thought that says that the reader and the hero of a story should only ever know the same things about the world. Others say that transparency in all things is essential, and no understanding in a book should be hidden or obscure, even if it the protagonist doesn’t share it. Perhaps the ideal reader of Mordew is one who understands that they, like Nathan Treeves (its hero), are not possessed of all knowledge of all things at all times. They progress through life in a state of imperfect certainty and know that their curiosity will not always be satisfied immediately (if ever).

  In any event, the glossary is available if you find yourself lost.

  ‌Dramatis Personae

  Anaximander A talking dog, trained for violence, but with refined sensibilities.

  Bellows The primary factotum of the Master of Mordew. He is proud, but also sad.

  Cuckoo A boy from the slums.

  Dashini The daughter of the Mistress of Malarkoi, clever, mischievous, and lost.

  The Dawlish Brothers Two brutes in the service of Mr Padge.

  The Fetch He was born when a horse evacuated into a blacksmith’s forge: up went a billow of steam, and when the blacksmith looked down there was the Fetch, naked and red, and wrinkled like a rat cub. He was blind and deaf, and the blacksmith slung him out onto the tip, where his brother rats taught him to see and hear. Now he sees and hears things as a rat does – wiry and shrill – which accounts for his bad temper. He ferries boys to and from the Master.

  Gam Halliday A self-made boy. Out of the Mud he gathered what parts came to hand until a child like a bird’s nest was there, made from twigs and leavings stuck together against the wind with spit. Such was the poverty of his surroundings that not all the necessary elements for a fully formed person were available, so he is missing some of them. In the centre of him are a clutch of blue eggs, but who knows who laid them?

  Jerky Joes Two children in one, they are part of Gam Halliday’s criminal gang.

  Ma Dawlish A gin-house proprietress.

  The Man with a Fawn Birthmark A mysterious aristocrat and ‘gentleman caller’ on Mrs Treeves.

  The Master of Mordew When a wheel turns it rolls across those things beneath it: stones are pushed into the Mud, snail shells break, delicate flowers are crushed. Sometimes the rims of the wheels bear the effects of this movement: the metal is notched, pitted or bent. Towards the hub of the wheel, none of this matters in the slightest. The centre of the wheel is perfect and out from it go perfect spokes, straight and true, and if the mechanism rattles, it is hard to feel it, and there is certainly no chance that the wheel will be interrupted in its progress – it is still perfect. The Master is the centre of the wheel, he is the movement of the wheel, his ways are unalterable, unquestionable, and, to those who dwell on the rim, unknowable – we see only his effects, which are terrible and cruel.

  The Mistress of Malarkoi Of the Mistress the people of Mordew do not speak except to name her in their curses. She is the enemy.

  Mr Padge A violent criminal who knows the modes and means of treachery in every aspect.

  Mr Treeves He was born from a stone weathered in the rain and ice of a winter perched on the Sea Wall. A fault in this stone was eased open by the freeze, and in the spring Treeves père wriggled out, salty and cold and weak. His strength was further wasted fending off frostbite and fish bite and death by drowning. He is now moribund and ineffectual, prey to lungworm infestation. He is Nathan Treeves’s father.

  Mrs Treeves Down in the slums she is wife to Mr Treeves, mother to Nathan Treeves, servicer of all comers. A more ignoble thing it would be hard to imagine. Yet who are you to judge? Time will tell.

  Nathan Treeves The son of Mr and Mrs Treeves, the secrets behind this child’s life are analogous to the motivating forces of our story, and to reveal them here would be a mistake. That said, Nathan is the crux of all things that take place in Mordew, whether he or anyone else will admit it, and there will come a time when he exceeds all those who came before him, living or dead, but in what way we cannot yet predict.

  Prissy A slum girl and part of Gam Halliday’s gang. When a song is sung it can be very affecting, but when its notes echo in the slums of Mordew, inevitably some beauty is lost. The sea mist deadens it, the waves crashing obscure it, and in order for it to be heard the voice must strain past its tolerances. The tone is altered by the acoustics of the place, and the ears on which the music falls and the hearts by which it is received are often not sympathetic to the artistry of the performance. Consequently, it is possible to see coarseness in Prissy, who is forced into singing songs unworthy of her.

  Rekka A destructive ur-demon, best left in its place of origin.

  Sirius A dog with mysterious senses. Friend of Anaximander.

  Solomon Peel A famous boy, possibly fictive, whose story is used to frighten crying children out of their tearfulness.

  Willy and Wonty Slum-dwellers speak endlessly of the Master, always wondering as to his future actions and whether he will ever end their torment. These words do not fall uselessly, though the Master pays them no attention, but drift about, buffeted and bolstered by repetition, until they settle into the form of objects – puzzling, unformed clumps of matter. But sometimes, very rarely, they make living boys, and thereby find new vehicles for their utterance. Willy and Wonty are two such boys, and so ingrained are the questions in them that these two find it impossible to think, or to be, or to speak, without giving voice to their formative interrogations.

  Additionally, in the pages of this book you will find many unusual things, including, but not limited to:

  an angry peacock in a cage

  an arm that becomes transparent

  an army of children made from mud

  a cloud of bats made from diamonds

  some beautiful but vain assassins

  various blasphemous gods

  a blue glint moving like a will-o’-the-wisp

  several books of spells

  piles of books used for firewood

  a box that makes whatever is put within it appear somewhere else instead

  a boy so bright that distant observers take him for the sun

  a boy spun on a loom

  the burglary of a palace

  the burglary of a town house

  many carcasses of butchered animals left to rot

  a chi
ld who is all limbs and nothing else

  a child who is made into a ghost

  a child with the face of a dog

  a child, blind in one eye, whose sight is partially returned

  a number of children, beaten

  children that are made into nothing but a spine and a head

  children that come unbidden from nowhere

  children who drink only wine

  a chimney with a devil’s head on the top

  cities with odd names

  some clay figures animated by blood sacrifice

  combustible feathers

  a corpse that becomes two corpses

  a corridor suitable only for a child

  a country bounded by white cliffs to its south

  a creature that is transformed from itself into a rat

  creatures that are born directly from the muck

  creatures that live only for a moment, and then fall to pieces

  a crew of sailors, all with Irish names

  a dance that is supposed to make a disease lessen

  a demon interred alive in the centre of the Earth

  a dog that can commune mystically, but who cannot speak

  a dog that can speak, but who cannot commune mystically

  electricity of a sort that can perform magic feats

  an endlessly extensible ladder

  engines with a mysterious purpose

  an entirely black ship

  some enormous lizards

  boxes of entomological specimens

  the extortion with menaces of a pharmacist

  a fallen patriarch

  a family of elephants, unfamiliarly labelled

  a fanged king made from shadows and gold

  hordes of feathered monsters, made of fire

  a festering wound

  a fireproof glove

  swarms of flies that are born out of muck

  flocking firebirds swooping over the sea

  fluences

  some friendly fish

  a gentlemen’s club in a sewer

  any number of ghosts

  a giant fish around which a ship has been constructed

  a girl with feathers for hair

  a glass sphere big enough to comfortably house a captive

  God’s dead body

  God’s eye, removed from its socket

  a golden pyramid

  a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth

  a harem of female dogs

  hexes

  a house called ‘The Spire’

  a huge empty chamber at the heart of a city

  inanimate objects that are transformed into living versions of themselves

  incantations that act to perform magic

  two inheritances of great significance

  an insect with the face of a monkey

  a species of insect that makes the sun its home

  an instrument that makes a person speak regardless of their unwillingness to do so

  invisible wires that can kill by slicing

  magical jewellery worn inside the chambers of a boy’s heart

  a knife held to a man’s eye

  Latin mottos

  litter-bearers in the Roman style

  an exhibit of little, spiked pigs

  a locket with a boy in it

  a locket with a man’s finger in it

  delicious lollipops that come from nowhere

  machines that manufacture gold

  various magical knives

  a magical axe

  a magical bow

  a magical corsage in the colours of the flag of France

  a man who can move so quickly that people can’t see him do it

  a man who loves horses, but not children

  a man who smells of rancid butter

  a man with a very large nose

  a man who is assumed to be a ‘noncer’

  a marble run

  a married pair of mechanical mice

  a masquerade ball

  men who can smell the difference between a man and a woman at a distance

  men whose jobs are also their names

  men with gills, but no eyes

  men with the heads of cows

  a mirror that reflects magical spells

  a mirror that shows one’s friends and accomplices over a distance

  a mosaic that comes to life

  the murder of a colleague

  the murder of an enemy

  the murder of surpassingly rare animals

  pouches of narcotic tobacco

  unnamed neurasthenic aristocrats

  some ornate doors

  an otherworldly demon, hell-bent on destruction

  poisoned bullets

  very many portraits of the famous dead

  the possession of a person’s body by the soul of another person (twice)

  possible ‘flap-lappers’

  possible ‘rod-rubbers’

  a post-cognitive toy theatre

  some powder that renders a thing invisible

  a princess in disguise

  much profligate destruction and violence against property

  rams’-head amulets with magical properties

  a rats’ nest in the pelvis of a corpse

  revolutionary justice

  a road forged from glass

  the robbery of a haberdasher

  many sacrificed children

  a single sacrificed old man

  volumes of sand turned into glass

  a scroll with a contract written on it

  sea fret

  sea that boils away so that the seabed is revealed

  a secret door

  a shaven-headed girl

  sigils, icons and glyphs having historical and magical significance

  silverfish made from electricity

  a smoke signal

  snakes with the heads of men

  spells performed with collected tears

  spells with names

  a statue of a goat-headed god

  statues that are half of a column and half of a woman with the head of a goat

  a striped cat of impressive size

  a suit of armour that could fit a child

  a sword hidden within a cane

  a talking book that can also write and draw by itself

  the teleportation of an object

  a telescope

  a tented city

  theft from a warehouse

  toys of enormous sophistication

  a tube that projects a killing light

  a tube with an eye on the end

  tubes made of glass

  unbreakable chains

  a union of laundresses

  unusual costumes and uniforms of various periods and professions

  vats in which boys are changed from one thing into another

  vats made of glass

  violence against a haberdasher

  violence against a pharmacist

  violence against the clientele of a brothel

  a wall of impressive size and strength

  a war between magicians

  weapons with names

  a white stag who is also a sort of god

  a witch-woman

  a wolf pack that is also a sort of god

  a woman with spines for hair

  worms that live in the lungs

  worms that live outside of the lungs, and which are of unusual size

  a zoo filled with screaming exhibits

  ‌Part One

  The Flint

  I

  The Southern Slums of the great city of Mordew shook to the concussion of waves and firebirds crashing against the Sea Wall. Daylight, dim and grey through the thick clouds, barely illuminated what passed for streets, but the flickering burst of each bird flashed against the overcast like red lightning. Perhaps today the Master’s barrier would fail, drowning them all. Perhaps today the Mistress would win.

  Out of the shadows a womb-born boy, Nat
han Treeves, trudged through the heavy mist. His father’s old boots were too big, and his thick, woollen knee socks were sodden. Every step rubbed his blisters, so he slid his feet close to the ground, furrowed them like ploughs through the Living Mud.

  He made his way along what slum-dwellers called the Promenade: a pockmarked scar which snaked from the Sea Wall to the Strand. It weaved between hovels lashed together from brine-swollen driftwood decorated with firebird feathers. Behind him he left his parents and all their troubles. Though his errand was as urgent as ever, he went slowly: a dying father, riddled with lungworms, is pressing business, and medicine doesn’t come cheap, but Nathan was just a boy. No boy runs towards fear eagerly.

  In his fists Nathan twisted his pillowcase; his knuckles shone through the dirt.

  He was walking to the Circus, that depression in the earth where the dead-life grew larger. Here, if fortune allowed, flukes could be found, choking in the Mud. The journey would take him an hour though, at least, and there was no guarantee of anything.

  All around, the detritus that insulated one home from another creaked and trembled at the vibrations of the Wall and the movement of vermin. Though Nathan was no baby, his imagination sometimes got the better of him, so he kept to the middle of the Promenade. Here he was out of the reach of the grasping claws and the strange, vague figures that watched from the darkness, though the middle was where the writhing Mud was deepest. It slicked over the toes of his boots, and occasionally dead-life sprats were stranded on them, flicking and curling. These he kicked away, even if it did hurt his blisters.

  No matter how hungry he was, he would never eat dead-life.

  Dead-life was poison.

  From nearby came the tolling of a handbell. It rang slow and high, announcing the arrival of the Fetch’s cart. From the shacks and hovels grown-ups emerged eagerly, doors drawn aside to reveal their families crowded within. Nathan was an only child, but he was a rarity in the slums. It wasn’t unusual for a boy to have ten, even fifteen brothers and sisters: the fecundity of the slum-dwellers was enhanced by the Living Mud, it was said. Moreover, womb-born children were matched in number by those of more mysterious provenance, who might be found in the dawn light, mewling in a corner, unexpected and unwelcome.

  When overextended mothers and fathers heard the Fetch’s bell they came running out, boy-children in their arms, struggling, and paid the cart-man to take them to the Master, where they might find work. So were these burdens, almost by alchemy, turned into regular coin – which the Fetch also delivered, for a cut.