The Realm of Flesh

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   {{#ifeq: Bad Guru | | Authors: ' | 
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}

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One

They were taken off the plane and led, some of them still blinking and complaining, to a shack by the side of the runway. Even in the dead of night the air throbbed with either the memory of yesterday's heat or the promise of tomorrow's. Farrant tried to work out what was going on, looked at his watch, wrestled with the elapsed flying time in his head. He'd been asleep during the landing, had woken to find himself being shaken, virtually dragged to his feet by one of the soldiers. He tried to work out the time difference in his head, failed, but knew deep down that something had gone wrong. They were still somewhere south of the Sahara.

The shack had concrete walls and a corrugated iron roof and it stank. Their luggage had been piled up at one end, while down the other hard wooden benches had been set around the walls. There was a desk somewhere in the middle. Farrant sank onto a bench and glanced at the other passengers. There were five of them, four men and a woman. She and the man who was presumably her husband sat quietly, holding hands and occasionally murmuring to each other. He was in his fifties, she a few years younger, both fairly conservatively dressed. She was attractive and had a good figure for her age. Farrant was by no means an old Africa hand but the obvious conclusion came to him at once - the crucifix she wore, the fish pin in his lapel made it virtually certain. Crazy. The missionaries kept coming despite the wars and the plague and the indiscriminate slaughter that had consumed the continent in the last few years, smiling politely at the facts but not wanting to get too involved with them. Then again, what right did he have to criticise? His own motives for being here were hardly pure.

There was at least one other Brit here, anyway, a heavy-set man with thinning black hair. The fingers of one hand drummed restlessly against his thigh as he glanced around the room, occasionally muttering under his breath. Farrant had heard the man introduce himself to the missionaries as Dallow, but knew nothing else about him. He was difficult to read. Slightly easier was the youngest man here, an American like the couple. He had short hair and glasses, but his clothes were practical and well worn. He was a long way off the regular backpacking trail here, wherever here turned out to be. Seeming to sense Farrant's scrutiny of him, the American rose to his feet, spoke to one of the soldiers lounging inside the doorway.

'Excuse me? I want to get in touch with the nearest US embassy -'

The soldiers - guards, Farrant now realised - stared at him with cold hostility. One of them flapped his hand down, hard. 'Asseyez-vous! Maintenant!'

The young man glanced around with a grin creeping onto his face. 'What'd he say?'

Farrant resisted the urge to roll his eyes: his own French was only schoolboy standard but the meaning had been obvious. The guard was still staring at the American youth.

'He said sit down, now.' The other man from their group had spoken. He was in his late thirties, perhaps a little older, receding hair shaved almost bald and with a thin greying goatee. He spoke quietly, without looking up, his English precise enough to sound a little unnatural. 'I recommend you do as you're told.'

'Uh, right.' The American sat down next to the European, held out a hand. 'Owen Querry.'

The man shook it brusquely. 'My name is Krogh.'

'You don't sound French,' Querry said with a grin.

'You don't have to come from a place to learn the language,' Krogh said dryly. 'As the popularity of English shows.'

'You can't learn 'em all,' Owen Querry said with a shrug. 'English, German, some Russian - thought that'd get me by. Oh, and Church Slavonic.'

'Very useful,' Dallow said, half-stifling a chortle. 'What are you, a missionary?'

'No, just travelling,' Querry said.

'You picked an interesting part of the world,' Farrant said.

'Liberia seemed safe enough,' Querry said. 'Same goes for Tunisia. I never planned on ending up in... where the hell are we, anyway?' The woman missionary pursed her lips in obvious disapproval at this outrageous profanity.

'Too far south-east for comfort,' Krogh said. 'This isn't a matter of engine trouble or anything technical, we were deliberately diverted.'

'What?' Dallow stared at him. 'Why didn't you say anything? Do something?'

'Such as what? Overpower the pilots? I can't fly a plane. In any case, one of them was carrying a gun.'

'I - I didn't notice,' Dallow said. He pulled out a foul-looking hankie and mopped his face.

'He didn't advertise it.'

'So where do you think we are?' Farrant asked Krogh.

Krogh shrugged. 'Near the front line. Benin, Togo, maybe Burkina Faso. Close enough for us to think about what we're going to say when the Soldiers of God roll into town.'

'I'm sure there's just been some mistake,' the male missionary said.

'I hope you're right, Mister -'

'Smith,' said the man. 'In any case, we've heard that the Soldiers' reputation is largely undeserved...'

'Maybe,' Krogh said. 'I've no particular desire to find myself living in a theocracy unless it's on my own terms, however.'

Owen Querry let out a deep breath. 'Look, let's stop panicking ourselves. We're American citizens. American or Brit, anyway. They're not going to do anything to us, are they? Why would they -'

The guards shifted into a semblance of attention as a man in an officer's uniform came into the shack. He sat down behind the desk and spoke in good English. 'I will need to interview all of you, one at a time.'

The Smiths went up first. They spoke good French and the interview was carried out in that language. If Krogh or Dallow were listening in they didn't show it. After a few minutes the Smiths returned and Krogh went and spoke quietly with the officer, also in excellent French. Then it was Querry's turn.

Farrant heard him repeat his request to be put in touch with the US embassy, didn't quite catch the officer's soft reply. Querry replied to the questions about his nationality and profession, but his voice was becoming increasingly shrill and strident. Farrant remembered a line from a book - the main problem with Americans trying to deal with the rest of the world is that they subconsciously expect to be loved wherever they go. Suddenly the dispute reached such intensity that one of the guards came over to stand by Querry's shoulder. Querry rose and slapped something down on the desk, stalked back to the benches.

'All right, fuck you, take it. People know where we are,' he snapped over his shoulder.

'What - ?' Farrant said.

'Took my god damn passport off me,' Querry said, scowling.

'They said it's only -' Mrs Smith began.

'Next.' The officer's voice cut across them.

Farrant got up and went over to the desk. The officer looked at him with no discernible emotion. 'Sit, please.'

Farrant obeyed.

'My name is Akueson. I apologise for this inconvenience. Do you speak French?'

'I'd prefer English,' Farrant said with a weak smile.

'Very well.' Akueson turned a new page in his notebook. 'Name, please.'

'John Farrant.'

'Nationality?'

'British.'

'Occupation?'

'Architect.'

Akueson frowned slightly. 'What would a British architect be doing in Liberia?'

'I was in talks with some people wanting to build a hotel there. I didn't do too well in the last financial crash, I couldn't turn it down without at least talking to them, seeing the site...'

'I understand. Once again I apologise, Mr Farrant, but as you know there is some instability in this region. Travel can be dangerous and I'm afraid we can't permit you to continue your journey at this time -'

'Why not? Where are we?'

Akueson continued heedlessly. 'However, you will be made comfortable as a guest of our government until such time as it's safe for you to leave - '

'Do I even get a choice?'

Akueson shook his head silently. 'For your own safety I must also ask that you allow us to look after your passport while you are here.'

Something suddenly occurred to Farrant. 'How long are we going to be here for?'

'I don't know.' Something in Farrant's demeanour seemed to catch the soldier's interest. 'Is it important?'

Farrant recovered himself, realised he had to stonewall. 'Well, only inasmuch as I have a life back in London...'

'As I said, I apologise for the inconvenience. Your passport, please.'

It was a meaningless document now, Farrant was beginning to realise that. His lack of options was also becoming wholly self-evident. He took it out carefully and passed it to Akueson, who put it with the others he had taken.

Farrant went back to the others and Dallow took his place. He sat next to Krogh and said quietly, 'What do you think is really happening here?'

Krogh touched a finger to his lips. 'Best not to look too smart for now. I suspect we will have plenty of time alone later.'

Dallow came back and they sat in silence for a while. Farrant dully realised that they still had no idea even what country they were in, but the fact was weirdly irrelevant. So much of life - borders, politics, emotion and imagination - just went on inside people's heads with no physical component whatsoever, and one always relied on everyone else playing by the same set of rules... but here it seemed that normality was suspended.

The rules of at least part of reality were physical, though, and the buzzing of Farrant's pocket alarm disturbed the whole hut. He glanced around apologetically, silenced the alarm. Carefully he found the dispenser inside his pocket, clicked the stud and felt the little plastic capsule drop into his palm. As surreptitiously as he could he drew his hand from his pocket, feigned a cough and brought his hand up to his mouth -

And one of the guards was there, dragging him to his feet and swatting Farrant's hand away from his mouth. The capsule flew off into the shadows of the shack. He was hauled away from the bench and shoved up against the wall. The others were making outraged noises but quietened down in a hurry when the other soldier unslung his assault rifle and covered them with it.

'Reposez-le,' Akueson said, and Farrant found himself back in the chair in front of the desk. The officer had drawn his handgun and laid it in front of him. His stare was still cold. After a moment the guard found the capsule and handed it to the officer.

Akueson turned the little red-and-white object over between his fingers. 'What is this?'

'Medicine. I - I need it,' Farrant said.

'You don't look very sick to me, Mr Farrant,' Akueson said mildly. 'Is it serious?'

'Yes. Please - '

'Are you - ah, contagiuex?' Farrant felt the guards stiffen at the word and felt the hairs on his spine prickling.

'No. I'm not contagious at all, but if I don't get my medicine -'

'You will die?'

Farrant avoided the man's level gaze, looked at the desk, the walls. 'Ah -'

'Mr Farrant, we have our own doctors here. I can't allow you to bring drugs into our country this way unless they are absolutely vital -'

'But this is absolutely vital -'

'I think you are lying to me. Empty your pockets, please.' They stared at each other for a long moment then Akueson nodded to the guard, who moved forward.

'All right, all right.' Farrant fumbled in his pocket for as long as he dared, then pulled out the plastic dispenser and handed it to Akueson. The officer clicked the stud a few times and more of the red and white pills pattered onto the table.

'What exactly is your illness?'

'It doesn't matter,' Farrant said numbly, staring at the object in Akueson's hand. 'If it's money you want, I have dollars, but I need those pills -'

Akueson placed the dispenser on the table. 'We have had a drugs problem here in the past. Always people demanding drugs for money. I have no time for addicts, especially ones who think their money can buy anyone. You are in our country now, Mr Farrant.' Sharply he picked up the handgun, barrel first, and smashed the butt down onto the dispenser. It shattered and pills skittered across the table. Farrant made to grab at them but found his arms pinioned by one of the guards. Akueson assembled the pills inside a folded sheet of paper and smashed at them again with the butt of his pistol until only a fragmented slime remained within.

'If you do get sick, Mr Farrant, we will get you a doctor, I promise,' Akueson said.

Farrant was put back on the bench. The others were staring at him, clearly curious. The Smiths obviously couldn't decide whether the pills had been medicinal or narcotic.

'Should've put it in the luggage,' Dallow murmured.

'The luggage will also be searched. Don't expect to keep your valuables,' Krogh said. He glanced at Farrant. 'That was quite foolish of you, Farrant.'

'I didn't have a choice,' Farrant said, his eyes drawn to the bin where the remains of his medication had been tossed. 'It's too late now, anyway.' He sat back and forced himself to wait twenty minutes before surreptitiously checking his pocket for the pills he'd got out of the dispenser while fumbling with it. Eight of them, maybe a week's worth if he took his time between doses. Only a week, and then... he shuddered.

Two

After an hour's wait they were led out to a battered land rover and told to get on board. The horizon was beginning to glow a fierce, rich orange as dawn approached, and the heat was already rising. Farrant loosened his tie and took off his jacket.

Mr Smith looked at Akueson, who was giving orders to the small group of soldiers who would be escorting them in a pair of battered and rusty jeeps. 'Where are we being taken, Captain?'

'A place of safety, Mr Smith, I assure you. You will be staying with another foreigner.'

Farrant could tell Smith wasn't completely happy with that, but he helped his wife aboard the land rover anyway. They all squeezed into the back, with two soldiers in the front. Akueson was in the leading jeep, the second followed them. After a moment the little convoy pulled out through the gates of the airstrip and set off. Scrubby trees lined both sides of the road.

'Excuse me. Excuse me,' Krogh said to the soldiers. They glanced at him but said nothing. 'Excuse me,' Krogh murmured to Mrs Smith. He tapped one of the soldiers on the shoulder and smiled. 'You have a very small cock, and your friend here buggers you up the ass.' He nodded and grinned.

The soldier nodded and indicated for Krogh to sit back in his seat.

'What on Earth -?' Mr Smith looked startled.

'They don't speak English. I didn't think they would. We can talk,' Krogh said in a low voice.

'We're going to escape?' Owen Querry looked at the older man hopefully.

Krogh rolled his eyes. 'Don't be stupid. We are in the power of these people. I don't think we are any immediate danger, though.'

'Well, that's a relief,' said Dallow.

'I still don't understand,' Farrant said, almost reluctantly, the words coming one at a time as he forced them past the numb awareness of his own situation that threatened to monopolise his brain. 'What's happened to us?'

'Politics,' Krogh said. 'These people are desperate for help and they think keeping us as hostages will force our own governments to assist them.'

'That's ridiculous,' Dallow said.

'As I said, they are desperate. We are near the front line of the war down here, and I don't think our hosts are faring any better against the Soldiers of God than the Cameroonians or the Chadians did.'

'Mr Krogh, I wish you wouldn't talk like that,' said Mrs Smith. 'For all we know -'

Krogh shrugged. 'The army of the Central African Alliance is effectively the instrument of the Church of the Soldiers of God. The alliance is a theocracy. If you want to sit here and debate semantics - ' Abruptly he laughed, sharply. 'Well, I suppose we'll have plenty of time for that, come to think of it.'

'So they want military aid to fight the alliance,' Owen Querry said slowly. 'And they -'

'The pilot of our flight was either bribed or replaced in order for our plane to detour south-east into their territory, yes,' Krogh said. 'Now they have us. No doubt our governments will be being informed of our status.'

'I'm not sure I like being used as political leverage like this,' Mr Smith said.

'You don't get a choice,' Dallow said, laughing. 'Oh, God, this would be priceless if...' He shook his head, looked at Krogh. 'You seem very well informed about all of this, Krogh.'

'Yes,' said Krogh. 'I am.' He met Dallow's gaze in silence for a few long seconds until the big man looked away.

'So what happens now?' Farrant asked after a few moment's silence.

'What do you think? Mr Smith, do you think your government will be sending in the aircraft carriers in order to secure your release?'

Smith shook his head. 'And I'm not sure I'm sorry about that. The alliance is a Christian state, after all -'

'Yeah, and the Christian right in the States would kick up a hell of a fuss if we went to war with them even by proxy,' Owen Querry said, sounding weary.

'Nobody back home wants to get into another war, anyway,' Mr Smith concluded.

'The same is true of Europe, of course,' Krogh said, sounding almost like he wasn't involved in any of this. 'Except perhaps for the religious element. All the developed countries have their own problems at the moment, they're all introspective. That's partly why Africa and Asia are in such upheaval. Their leaders have realised that all the old rich and powerful nations aren't as rich or powerful as they once seemed to be.'

'This is all very interesting, Krogh,' Dallow said, 'but what's going to happen to us?'

'I don't know. It's not in our hosts' interests to kill us, and once they realise we've been abandoned by our governments they'll have no reason to keep us hostage.'

'So they'll let us go,' Farrant said, grabbing eagerly at the thought. If it was resolved quickly enough...

'Possibly. But a bullet is always cheaper than airfare, and this is a war zone,' Krogh said placidly. 'It all depends on... well, the politics of the situation.'

'Who was it who said politics is the art of the possible?' Dallow said, looking grim.

'Butler,' Owen Querry put in brightly.

'Actually, it was Bismarck,' Krogh said. He shut his eyes and leaned back in his seat and seemed to go to sleep almost at once.

The cars bumped on for hours through a landscape that varied only when they passed through a village, shabby houses and scrawny animals sliding past on each side. Farrant managed to take one of his pills without the soldiers or anyone else noticing; the man not driving seemed to be asleep. So were Krogh, Dallow, and Mr Smith. He was exhausted himself and let himself slide off into a doze regularly interrupted by the jolting of the land rover.

When he properly awoke he found four hours had passed since they had left the airfield. As far as he could tell they were heading northwest, roughly. Where were they going? If this was one of the countries on the coast the capital city would be in the south, by a port. Then again, he had no reason to think they were heading for the capital. The sheer lack of information beyond Krogh's surmisings was frustrating.

The front jeep abruptly slowed and turned off to the left. The trees had thinned out considerably while he'd been sleeping and the landscape was now really more one of dusty scrub. The convoy was heading more slowly down a narrow lane. Up ahead was, well, the largest building they'd seen for a bit, a big old house, two stories, with other smaller buildings set around it, all of them browned and peeling as if suffering from sun burn. Akueson's jeep stopped in front of the main house and the others pulled up behind him.

Querry opened the door and got out before being told to. Farrant clambered out after him, stiff from the journey and needing the bathroom badly. One of the guards leaned on the horn and the blare of it seemed to hand in the air around them. It was the middle of the day and Farrant felt his shirt slowly adhering to his shoulders, sweat running freely down his sides.

The front door of the house opened and a woman emerged. She looked old, but then living in this climate must do that to people, Farrant thought. Long silvery hair trailed out from under the broad-brimmed hat she wore. She was staring at Akueson with undisguised annoyance.

'Don't you know the time, Captain?'

'I'm sorry, Miss Scobie. My orders were - '

'Yes, I can imagine.' Miss Scobie surveyed the little group of travellers. 'Well, I expect you must be hungry and thirsty.'

'Well... yes we are, ma'am,' Mr Smith said with a thin smile. 'I could use a...'

'Yes, yes. First thing is to get you out of the sun.' Miss Scobie was ignoring the captain completely, Farrant thought, bleakly amused. Akueson was tolerating it impassively, of course. 'How many are you?'

'Six,' Krogh said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 'Four single men, and Mr and Mrs Smith here.'

'Plenty of room here for you all,' Miss Scobie said. 'Three bedrooms in the house and four in the bungalows. Your men will be staying in the village, Captain?'

'My men will be around,' Akueson said, noncommittally. 'We don't require the same level of comfort as you Europeans.'

'I'm American,' Owen Querry muttered to the ground.

'I'm prepared to leave you here with Miss Scobie,' Akueson said. 'Do not attempt to leave, my government can't guarantee your safety if you do. If you're found off Miss Scobie's land you will be escorted back here. Is that understood?'

They mumbled or nodded their assent. Farrant thought they must share his mild surprise at being, seemingly, abandoned here. Maybe no greater security was necessary now. Where were they, after all? Where could they go with scarcely any money or food? Akueson and all but two of his men piled into the vehicles, which turned around and left. The two men left ambled into the shade of one of the trees and sank onto the ground, pulling out a packet of cigarettes.

'Come along,' Miss Scobie said briskly, leading them inside. Owen was eyeing up the two soldiers, but Krogh put his hand on the younger man's shoulder and steered him indoors.

'At least have a drink before you get yourself killed.'

Inside the house was a jug of water and too many glasses; she must not have known how many of them to expect. They all drank deep, perhaps a bit too deep, Farrant thought as his bladder continued to complain. One of Miss Scobie's African servants, a young boy who answered to Centime, showed him to one of the privies. When he returned the others were just beginning to look refreshed.

'So, is this your house, Miss Scobie?' Mrs Smith asked.

'Yes, my family has lived here for over a century. Grandfather came over from France at the end of the Great War and started building this house.'

'Forgive me, but your name is not very French,' Krogh said, smiling.

'My grandparents only had one daughter. She married an Englishman who ended up out here after Hitler's war, they stayed on after independence. As did I. I haven't been to Europe in over forty years. No desire to, now,' Miss Scobie said.

'What do you know about the situation here?' Dallow asked. 'We're assuming our being here is something to do with the war - '

'Yes, I think so too,' Miss Scobie said. 'I know the Army of God or whatever it's called is coming this way. Well, we were here under the French, we were here under several nasty dictators, and we're still here now. The alliance can shoot me if it wants to, but I'm not leaving.'

Farrant couldn't help smiling at the old woman's matter-of-fact resilience. 'How do you get on with the current regime?' he asked.

'We avert our gaze from each other. Until you lot came onto the agenda.'

'Yes, this isn't quite the accommodation I was anticipating,' Krogh said, glancing around the large colonial living room.

'They want to know where you are, but they don't want you mixed up with the common people too much - the alliance has people sniffing around, apparently. A place like this is about the best they can hope for.'

'We're not exactly under guard, though,' Querry said hopefully.

'Young man, don't be foolish. You wouldn't get ten miles. The best you could hope for would to be caught straight away and dragged back here.'

'That's as maybe, but if you could just give me a little food and point me north-west - '

'No. I'm responsible for you and I'm not going to help you get shot,' Miss Scobie said, looking hard at the young American.

'So we should just sit around here until the government realises we're useless? That's your plan?' Owen Querry looked around at the others, searching for support.

Farrant thought of the seven pills he had left, the time limit that must mean. Reluctantly he said, 'I can see Querry's point. Staying here - '

'Is our only option right now,' Krogh said. 'Akueson hasn't evaporated. He and his men are still in the area. In this part of the world we are somewhat - conspicuous. Getting to the border is one thing, maybe we could manage that. Doing it without being seen? I don't think so. If the government didn't spot us then no doubt a group working for the alliance would.'

'Word gets around. I think that other westerners have been, er, 'persuaded' to enjoy the government's hospitality,' Miss Scobie said. 'The alliance may be searching for you, just in case the government's plan looks like working.'

'The alliance doesn't need to use us as hostages, though,' Farrant said, sudden hope springing in his chest. 'Wouldn't they want the goodwill releasing us would earn them?'

'Frankly, I doubt they'd care much either way,' Dallow said with a mirthless smile. 'Besides, do you really want to take the chance?'

Farrant felt his spirits sink again. 'No. Maybe not,' he said.

'So that's settled then,' Miss Scobie said. 'No-one leaves. I have plenty of food and a good water supply here, so nobody's going to starve. There's a few jobs around the place that you gentlemen might want to look at, too - once you've settled in. I'll show you to your rooms now, if you like.'

It seemed obvious that the Smiths should take one of the spare bedrooms in the house, and Dallow claimed the other one without even asking the other men. He seemed quite unselfconscious when it came to his selfishness. Farrant wondered who the man was, why he had been flying out of Liberia in the first place. The expat community there were viewing the inexorable advance of the alliance up into West Africa with an indifference born of several thousand miles' distance. No doubt they would be clamouring for seats on any plane out of there if the alliance looked like taking Mali or the Ivory Coast.

Miss Scobie showed Farrant, Querry and Krogh to the low buildings outside. Each one contained a small but airy bedroom and an equally spacious living room. They were wired for electricity and running water, but neither was currently working.

'Father had an idea about taking in paying guests at one point, had these built,' Miss Scobie said with a wry smile. 'But we were too far off the safari trail and they just ended up being used by our friends when they used to visit.'

'Where did your electric power come from?' Krogh was idly flicking the switch on and off.

'A generator, but we can't get the petrol to run it. I don't really miss it, to be honest. I'd like to get the water running again, though.'

Krogh treated her to his sardonic smile. 'Maybe we could look at that for you while we're here.'

'I'd be very grateful. I'll leave you to rest now, gentlemen. Dinner will be on the verandah around six.'

Miss Scobie withdrew. When she was well out of sight and earshot, Querry whistled incredulously. 'Reality check for table two, please...'

'What do you mean?' Krogh asked.

'It's like some kind of time warp. Here we are in the twenty-twenties and she's still behaving like a character from a Somerset Maugham story. The sun still hasn't set on the British Empire here.'

'I suspect Miss Scobie may consider herself French, if she claims any nationality,' Krogh said. 'I'll say one thing for the British Empire, though - the British may have been imperialists, but at least they did it moderately tastefully - eh, Farrant?'

Farrant allowed himself a smile. 'No empire builders from your country, then, Krogh?'

Krogh returned the smile. 'Only one, a magnificent lunatic who invaded Russia and ended up fighting the Turks in Turkey. We learned our lesson early. My people are perhaps too sensible that way.'

'You seem like your head's screwed on okay, though,' Querry said.

Krogh acknowledged the compliment but seemed dubious about it. 'Not what they would say back home.'

'Anyway... you two guys seem sensible,' Owen Querry said. 'Are we really going to just sit here and do nothing?'

Krogh shook his head. 'Absolutely not. As I just said, I intend to look at the plumbing.'

'Don't make fun of me, man. I'm talking about escaping.'

'Don't be a fool, Querry, we've discussed this already. Where would you go? How would you travel, what would you eat? This is a hard country, there is a war here.'

Querry looked at Farrant. 'You're very quiet. Earlier you seemed up for the idea...'

Farrant shook his head. 'I don't know, Owen...'

'What about your stuff? You said you needed more or you'd get sick,' Querry pressed. 'You think Miss Scobie's got some in her medicine chest? You think -'

'I don't know! Leave it, will you?' Panic suddenly threatened to overthrow Farrant. Instinctively he patted his pocket, felt for the seven capsules still there. 'I need to think about it.'

'I need to get some sleep,' Querry said. He nodded to them, went out. Farrant and Krogh were alone together.

'What exactly is your condition, Farrant?'

'Why do you ask?'

'The six of us - seven, if you include Miss Scobie - are a group, whether we like it or not. What affects you may impact on us. I think we ought to know if you're going to become seriously ill, or - how is it? - strung out, or...' Krogh shrugged. 'Are you simply another addict as the captain thinks?'

'No, I'm not. I - look, it's, it's personal.' He dipped his hand into his pocket, produced the handful of capsules. 'It's not immediately urgent. I managed to save a few.'

Krogh nodded. 'I thought you had. How long will they last you?'

'Maybe a week.'

'And what happens then?'

Farrant didn't trust himself to reply. 'I'll worry about that when the time comes,' he said.

'I can't make you talk if you don't want to,' Krogh said. 'I'll see you at dinner, then.'

Farrant found himself left alone in the bungalow. He looked again at the capsules. One week. Very wearily he went into the bedroom and started to peel off his clothing.

Three

He slept like a log and when he woke the darkness was already beginning to gather outside. In the main room he found his luggage, along with a jug of water and a large bowl. He washed himself as well as he could in the circumstances and pulled on a clean shirt and pair of trousers, then went outside.

The verandah was round the back of the Scobie house, illuminated by hurricane lanterns. Miss Scobie, Dallow, and the Smiths were already there enjoying a drink before the meal. Maybe Querry had a point, Farrant thought - it was like a scene from a costume drama. He made his hellos and took a seat. Gin had never been his favourite drink but Miss Scobie's drinks cabinet was not especially extensive.

'Mr Dallow says you're an architect,' Miss Scobie said.

Farrant glanced at the big man. 'Yes, I am. On paper, anyway. I always say it's a bit like being a novelist, half the work is selling the idea.'

'What do you think of the house?'

'Very impressive, seems to be standing up well, if you see what I mean. I imagine termites must be a concern around here, with so much wood in the building?'

'Well, we have to be a bit careful,' Miss Scobie nodded.

Farrant looked at Dallow. 'I never caught what your line was, Dallow.'

'Call me Jim,' Dallow said with an expansive gesture. He grinned as Farrant continued to wait for an answer. 'I do a bit of everything, Farrant. Go where the money goes.'

Farrant smiled. 'So what were you doing in Liberia, of all places?'

'Think I heard about that hotel deal of yours, the other end of it, maybe. Is it going to happen?'

'I got a bad whiff off it, that's why I'm - why I *was* - heading back to the UK. Even if it does go ahead, some other poor guy'll be doing the designs for it, especially now I'm, well, here.'

'Personally I'm not that fussed either way,' Dallow said. 'Nothing for me back there. Not much even in Tunisia, to tell the truth. I'll quite happily sit it out here for a few months - with Miss Scobie's consent, of course - until things calm down a bit.'

'Unless one side or the other shoots you, of course,' Farrant said.

'I'm a businessman, sort of, anyway,' Dallow said. 'I don't think we're seriously in danger of being topped - not unless we do something stupid. There's no percentage for the government or the alliance in killing us, is there? Doesn't make sense.'

'I hope they consider it as rationally as you do, Mr Dallow,' Miss Scobie said. 'You're all quite welcome to stay for as long as you need to. What about you, Mr Smith? Have you a pressing need to be somewhere else?'

'No, we can do our work here as well as anywhere,' Mr Smith said with a smile. 'Is there a church in the area?'

'Er, yes, but I believe it's currently lacking a preacher,' Miss Scobie said. 'I remember that people used to go there mainly because they didn't want to upset the last man we had. The villagers around here are still fairly unreconstructed in their beliefs.'

'Poor creatures,' said Mrs Smith, but Farrant saw the happy little look that flashed between them at the news.

At that point Krogh and Querry, in a fresh shirt and t-shirt respectively, appeared and Miss Scobie decided there was no reason to wait any longer for dinner. It was chicken with rice - rather more of the latter than the former - well spiced, and well prepared. It made a very welcome change from the fast food Farrant had grown accustomed to and he realised he was ravenous: they all were. They ate solidly for a while and then started to discuss the situation again, in a very abstract and rather detached fashion. Farrant found himself fighting down the urge to burst out laughing. Drinks before dinner! Prepare the guest bungalows, Centime! And meanwhile, not too far away, child soldiers were loading their rifles, the government - not realising how small its problems were in the world today - was desperately trying to hold them to ransom, the Soldiers of God were marching onwards, ever onwards, and in his bloodstream the chemicals he'd taken were slowly frothing away and becoming inert, his cells preparing to contort themselves unless another dose came along. He was being held to ransom doubly over, he realised, his body demanding the drugs in order for it to remain his body in any meaningful way. He found his hands were shaking, all pressure to laugh was gone. He excused himself from the dessert course, went round to the courtyard between house and bungalows to get his breath back.

He was sitting on the steps staring into the darkness when someone quietly sat down next to him. It was Owen Querry.

'You see what I mean. They're all nuts, right?'

'It's not without a surreal element,' Farrant said. He glanced at Querry. 'But I don't see we have any choice. Trust me, if I thought we'd have even one chance in a thousand, I'd be leading the escape committee. With my condition, I wouldn't be sitting around here if there was anything I could do.'

'Yeah. Your condition.' Querry sounded dubious, clearly had him pegged as someone with a chemical dependency. 'Well, I'm sorry, man, but I'm going to give it a try.' He slapped his thighs and stood up.

'Querry, don't be stupid,' Farrant said. 'You can't just - '

'Watch me.' The young man quickly darted into his cabin and emerged with his small backpack. Farrant was still wondering whether to alert Krogh and the others to Querry's intentions. Maybe the kid was right, maybe if he did get away it would bring rescue closer for the rest of them... and he objected to being forced into the kind of co-dependent group Krogh had talked about.

'All right.' Farrant held out his hand. 'Good luck, Owen.'

'You too, John.'

They shook, and the young American loped quickly out of the courtyard and off into the darkness. Farrant sat down again and watched the great bow of the Milky Way as it shimmered overhead. There seemed to be little else to do.

'Looks like I picked a hell of a year to quit smoking,' he muttered, half-smiling to himself as he did so. Even half a smile did not last long.

After a while he heard distant farewells and the sound of people, presumably Miss Scobie, Dallow and the Smiths, going into the house. Krogh came round the corner from the verandah, hands in pockets.

'Beautiful night,' the older man said, looking up at the arch of the galaxy.

'It is,' Farrant said.

'We will have to get used to waiting, I think,' Krogh said, apropos of nothing. 'It's just a question of how we fill our time until...' He shrugged, smiled suddenly. 'Is Querry in his room?'

'I saw him go in,' Farrant said carefully. Secrets and half-truths, the world they were all now in.

'Good. I think he will bear watching, maybe even more than Dallow.'

The fact that Krogh saw him as some kind of ally surprised Farrant nearly as much as Krogh's assumption of whatever authority he seemed to think he possessed. 'He's a grown adult, isn't he?'

'Don't you think that's rather naive, Farrant? We don't need him to antagonise our hosts by doing something stupid.'

'Maybe you overestimate our hosts.'

Krogh did not reply. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' he eventually said and went into his bungalow. Farrant sat stargazing for another ten minutes before turning in himself.

Pounding on the cabin door. Farrant woke, confused, looked at his watch. It was an hour past midnight. He groaned as the battering continued, rolled out from under the mosquito net and stood up. He staggered to the door and threw it open.

He found himself face to face with Akueson. The captain took a step back, and Farrant saw two of his soldiers behind him, something on the decking in front of them, something loose and awkward - Jesus! It was Querry!

'He was warned,' Akueson said. 'The next person who tries to leave without permission will be shot.'

'Christ...!' Farrant crouched over Querry. He was still breathing, but he was out cold and there was blood on his face. 'We're no use to your government if you kill us, Captain.'

'Personally I don't think you are much use to us in any condition, Mr Farrant, but I obey my orders,' Akueson said. 'I doubt a bullet through the kneecap would be fatal.'

There was movement from one of the other cabins and Krogh emerged from the shadows, took in the scene in an instant. 'Dumbom!' he said, staring at Querry.

'I think I can guess what that means,' Farrant said. 'Krogh, give me a hand getting him inside, will you?'

They picked up the American and carried him through into Krogh's cabin, laid him on the small sofa there. Farrant mopped some of the blood off his face while Krogh went outside and spoke urgently with Akueson in French. After a moment he returned and Farrant heard the soldiers trudging off into the night.

'It's not as bad as it looks. Bump on the head and a few scrapes but he just seems to be unconscious,' Farrant said.

'Luckier than he deserves.' Krogh said. He sat back. 'All right, you can leave him here. Get some sleep. I'll talk to him when he wakes up.'

Farrant nodded and went out. Querry had a splitting headache and a bollocking off Krogh to look forward to when he awoke. He'd only known the man for about a day but he wasn't sure he wouldn't choose the sore head, given the choice.

'They let me get to the edge of the estate, then bam,' Querry said, a touch ruefully, when he appeared the next day at lunchtime. He seemed thoroughly crestfallen, beginning to realise that even youthful energy and enterprise were not universal panaceas. Farrant noticed he was avoiding Krogh's gaze, for all that Krogh didn't seem to be treating him any differently.

'The captain said he'd shoot you if you try again. Not to kill, but somewhere painful,' Farrant said.

'I heard. Don't worry. I'm with the program now. A good little guest of the government... what exactly is there to do around here, anyway?'

The answer was, not much. The almost torpid pace of life on Miss Scobie's estate took most of them by surprise. Krogh, as they were starting to realise, never appeared to be surprised by anything, and if he was as restless as they he didn't show it. After only a day or two Farrant found himself sliding into an easy routine - sleeping relatively late, rising, attempting one or other of the odd jobs around the house beyond the expertise of the servants until the heat of midday made any exertion impossible, a siesta, then late in the afternoon either a walk around the estate or a game of cards with one of the others. Finally dinner, and more often than not an early night. It was the same for Dallow, and Querry, and Krogh, but the Smiths were always up early for a pre- breakfast walk. After a day or two they arranged a meeting for themselves with Captain Akueson, and to the astonishment of the others the officer allowed them to go into the nearest villages, under escort of course, so they could continue their good works even here.

It was one way of passing the time, Farrant supposed. He had his own preoccupation, counting down the hours and then the minutes to his next pill, and beyond that the inexorably dropping number of capsules he had left. Tension started knotting in his stomach. Mr Smith said Akueson had heard nothing from the government concerning them. If the Foreign Office in London did their research and learned of his condition, then maybe... no, it was an impossibly long shot. Above all else, he had flown out here with a two-month supply of medication, much more than he needed - they would have no way of knowing it had been destroyed. He was going to run out of his drugs. And then what? He'd never even asked what would happen, and how quickly, should he ever stop his medication. Why would he? He'd been so grateful that the drugs worked in his case it probably hadn't even occurred to him.

The others, even Querry, seemed to be relaxing into their odd new lifestyle of enforced leisure, but he couldn't. It was impossible. Three days worth of capsules left. Two. His mood was constantly dark now, his nerves on edge. He found himself avoiding the others, keeping to himself, obsessively checking his appearance in the mirror as if trying to commit it to memory in its original form...

Late in the afternoon there was a knocking at his door. It was Krogh; he had a box and a small square sheet of wood under his arm.

'Hello. What can I do for you?'

'I wondered if you played chess, Farrant,' Krogh said with a pleasant smile. 'I've grown a little tired of Dallow and his games of poker.'

'I play a bit,' Farrant said carefully. 'Did you ask the others?'

'Dallow only plays game of chance. I did play Querry a few times but he is really only a novice. I thought I would ask Mr Smith once he returned from the village, but seeing as you are here now... am I disturbing you?'

'No. All right then, I can't promise to be any good.' The distraction would, he supposed, be welcome.

They set up the board in the shade of the courtyard and began. Krogh played a solidly traditional Ruy Lopez style which he clearly knew backwards; Farrant was soon uncomfortably aware that he was out of his depth, bogged down in his own territory.

'Sorry I'm taking so long.'

'It's not a problem,' Krogh said. A pause. 'You've been keeping to yourself this last couple of days.'

'It's nothing personal.'

'Your medication issues, I expect.'

Farrant did not reply. He shuffled a bishop a square back towards his own board edge, more as a stopgap than anything else.

'Are you sure you're going to be all right, Farrant? I'm sure Akueson has been ordered to do everything he can to keep you alive -'

'Which would be why he smashed my pills up, I suppose.' He glanced sharply at Krogh. 'Relax, Krogh. I'm not going to die or go crazy or do anything to upset our hosts, although quite why that's so important to you I can't understand.'

Krogh's pawn advance rolled inexorably on. He had a material advantage and was looking to exchange off as much as he could, to free up the board for the kill. 'Let us do a deal. We can be friends as long as we respect each other's privacy. Is it agreed?'

'Do you really want to be friends, Krogh? I can never tell...'

'Want is...' Krogh made a dismissive, ethereal gesture. 'Need is what matters. We all need friends in our current situation, I think perhaps you more than most.'

'Whatever you say.' Farrant toppled his king in disgust. 'You're too good for me.'

'You had your chances, John,' Krogh said. 'Another?'

This time Farrant was white. From the depths of his memory he dredged up an obscure opening called the Spike and deployed it against the older man. Opponents usually either became overconfident against it and fell into any one of a number of traps, or became wholly defensive. It was effective in formal games, he recalled, because its unfamiliarity put one's opponent under severe time pressure. Informally it just meant games tended to drag on forever provided both players were competent. Krogh was at least competent. They were still in a deadlock when the gong was struck for dinner.

Four

They played at least once a day after that, but Farrant could only hold Krogh off when the other man was tired or distracted. Wins for him were very rare. It wasn't his main concern, of course. The last of his medication was gone now, and it was surely only a matter of time until - well, something happened. Checking his reflection, morning, noon, and night, became a ritual for him. He wasn't sure, he was imagining seeing tiny changes where there were perhaps none... but, only a couple of days after his drugs finished, his shoes suddenly began to feel half a size too large for his feet. He knew the metamorphosis had begun.

He played badly that night, unable to concentrate. Krogh's demolitions were even quicker and more comprehensive than usual. Farrant spent half his time leaning over the board, cursing quietly to himself, constantly running his hand through the sweaty mass of his hair, pulling it out of his eyes.

'May I ask you a question, John?'

Farrant glanced up at him. 'You're not usually so reticent.'

'I think this is a personal question.' When Farrant did not reply he pressed on. 'I imagine your medication is all gone now, has been for a few days. Am I correct?'

He had no desire to get into this at all. 'Yes,' he said.

'So whatever you were afraid of must be starting to happen,' Krogh went on.

'What's your point?'

'I don't think the others have noticed yet, but they don't spend a few hours a day sitting a metre away from you,' Krogh said. 'Your hair has grown three or four centimetres since this time yesterday. There's something strange about the bones in your hands and wrists, too, and the hairs are falling out on your arms. Is this the problem you anticipated?'

Damn it! Farrant stared down at his hands, realised Krogh was right. It made sense, given the dwindling of his feet. 'Yes,' he said blankly. 'Yes it is.'

'So you have one of the changing diseases. I understand your reluctance to discuss it,' Krogh said. 'How long -?'

'About six years now. I was lucky, I spotted it early - flu out of season, no one else I knew had had it - and they put me on the drugs before I really changed significantly at all. I just forgot about it, took a pill every twelve hours, got on with my life,' Farrant said. It was almost a struggle to talk about it to someone he still didn't really know. He put his hands to his face. 'This was never supposed to happen. Why - oh, fuck it. Why me,' he whined with ferocious self-mockery. 'Just my bad luck. As usual.'

'You are becoming more feminised?' Krogh was being so damned forensic about it as usual.

'I'm turning into a fucking woman, Krogh. In three weeks or a month none of the doctors in this country will be able to tell I was ever a man.'

'I'm sorry, John. When were you going to tell us?'

'I thought it would become self-evident sooner or later,' Farrant said heavily.

'I think you ought to be discreet about it -'

'What did you think I was going to do?'

'They have APFS in this continent, too, and no drugs to stave off the change, even for the lucky few that they might help.' Krogh paused. 'Here they think it's witchcraft or something supernatural - hell, they may be right, our science can't explain it. Why do you think groups like the Soldiers of God are taking over throughout the developing world?'

'I - I hadn't thought about it -'

'Famine, plague, poverty, and now miracles like this - men inexplicably spontaneously changing sex. Do you know how the people here think? How it seems to them when a preacher declares these are the signs of the last days? They are ready to believe.' Krogh paused, sat back. 'You have a more pressing concern. There is a widespread superstition here that men who become women through APFS are magically pure and healthy, they have been touched by God and can catch no other diseases.'

'If only,' Farrant said.

'The men also believe that if one has sex with one of these 'magic women' one acquires some of this immunity. I'm sure you can appreciate how important that would seem to a young uneducated African man, like one of Akueson's soldiers.'

Farrant felt nauseous. 'Oh God,' he said weakly.

'We'll protect you,' Krogh said. 'If the time comes.'

'I - thank you,' Farrant said. He looked urgently at Krogh. 'Don't tell the others yet. Please.'

'It's your choice,' Krogh said with a touch of reluctance. He looked down at the board. 'I think we should abandon the game,' he said quietly, and Farrant did not object.

Conversation at dinner that night went on as normal. He supposed it was a miracle that anyone apart from the Smiths found anything to talk about day after day, because all their days seemed to be smearing together into one baked and sweaty mass. He gathered that Querry was now theoretically two hundred dollars in debt to Dallow as a result of all their card playing; if Dallow was annoyed that the debt would likely never be honoured he did not show it.

'I've always thought -' began Mr Smith carefully, but they were never to learn exactly what. Somewhere out in the darkness sounded the percussive rattle of automatic weapon fire. A long way off, but not too far not to silence the conversation. It was answered by another burst, sounding slightly different. The call-and-response continued sporadically.

'Could that be Akueson or his men - shooting for fun, or something?' Dallow asked. He was looking at Krogh: they had all come to take it for granted that he seemed to know just about everything.

Krogh shook his head. 'Too far away. I would imagine they're under orders to save ammunition, with the war going the way it is. Was, ten days ago, anyway.'

'You mean that could be the Soldiers shooting?' Querry stared out into the encompassing black. 'The war's here?'

'I don't know. From what I understand, the alliance tends to send elements ahead of its main advance to disrupt the country they're moving into. The front line, such as it, may still be a long way off.'

Dallow nodded. 'The main fighting'll be down south around the capital. Up here we're more likely to have trouble with deserters and chancers trying to exploit the power vacuum. There could be a while between the government falling and the alliance imposing law and order out in the countryside.'

'We should see about securing the house,' Miss Scobie announced. 'Some of the shutters have probably rusted open, they'll need looking at.'

'We'll start first thing,' Krogh said. A rattle of gunfire from out in the night seemed like a strange echo.

They considered all moving into the main house, but it was decided for comfort's sake to leave that until there was a definite need for it. Farrant hoped they'd get enough warning in the event of that happening. The other shacks and outhouses were emptied of food and valuables, though, and they set about doing what they could to make the house a little more defensible. Their only weapons were scissors and kitchen knives, which Farrant supposed made the whole thing slightly farcical, given the assault rifles, hand grenades and machine guns any assailants would doubtless be armed with, but it was something to do. They couldn't just sit here and do nothing with the war finally sidling up to their doorstep.

Farrant found himself looking at some of the rusted shutters in the company of Miss Scobie. The hinges were heavily corroded, but the damage seemed to be mostly superficial. It would take some work with the old tools they'd found to get the shutters to close. He looked at them ruefully.

'You're thinking they won't keep anyone out for long, aren't you?' Miss Scobie said with a smile.

'Frankly, yes.' Farrant pulled his hair back out of his face. It was starting to curl slightly but had kept its black colour; it would be pony-tail length in another day or two.

'It's the message it sends, do you see. Anyone coming to this house and seeing the doors and windows closed and shuttered will know it is occupied by people who will not give it up easily.' An unaccustomed flush had come to Miss Scobie's face.

'Maybe.' He poked at one of the hinges with a blunt chisel. Flakes of rust scraped away, but the shutter still barely moved. He grabbed for a hammer. 'What would you have done had you been alone here?' he asked, but suspecting he already knew the answer. No answer came anyway.

He glanced up and saw Miss Scobie with her eyes shut, fists clenched, obviously struggling to stay on her feet. Her face had drained to a strange yellowy-grey colour and he could hear the quick gasping of her breath. He dropped the tools and went to her; she practically swooned against him. He helped her into the shade, sat her down on a bench. Slowly her colour returned a bit and her breathing eased.

'Miss Scobie? Are you all right?'

She smiled feebly at him, squeezed his hand. 'It's just my age. The excitement of having so many new people in the house. Everything else that's happening. I'll be fine, my dear.'

'You should rest. We can do all the work on the house,' Farrant said.

'You're very kind.' Her smile became stronger. 'You're a very good actor, you know. I wasn't going to say anything, but -'

'What, what do you mean?'

'When your hair was shorter I really thought you were male. I'd heard that men and women had equally opportunities now, but that can't be true if you needed to pretend to be a man... Did you want to come and see Africa, a bit of an adventure?' Her gaze was still slightly unfocussed.

'Miss Scobie... it's not like that...' Farrant struggled to put it into words she would understand, but suddenly realised she was as much a stranger to the modern world as he was to living in the backcountry here.

'It's all right, my dear, I admire your spirit. I won't tell anyone.'

He helped her inside and vented his emotions on the rusted metal until it became too hot to work.

He felt obliged to tell somebody what he had seen, and Krogh was the obvious, perhaps the only candidate. He doubted Miss Scobie would appreciate being fussed over, and Krogh definitely didn't seem the type to do that.

They sat down for their daily chess session a little later than usual, having made at least some progress on making the house more secure. The Smiths hadn't helped, not that they could have done much: they just went off into the village as usual to do whatever they did there under the watchful eye of Akueson's men.

'I don't think Miss Scobie is quite as redoubtable as she likes to make out,' Farrant said after a while.

'Why do you say that?'

'I was working on the windows today and she was watching me. She had some kind of... I don't know, a seizure. Maybe that's too strong a word for it. She nearly fainted, struggled to breathe.'

'Mmm. Sounds like it might be her heart,' Krogh said neutrally. 'There's not much we can do for her except to keep her from working too hard and avoid stressful situations.'

'Will you send a memo to Akueson and the Soldiers of God? Please fight as discreetly as possible. '

Krogh acknowledged the difficulty of the situation. 'Out here one realises how little one is really in charge of events.'

'You don't have to remind me,' Farrant said sourly. He was having to pad his shoes in order for his feet not to rattle around in them and his clothes were beginning to feel loose across the shoulders and long in the legs. He didn't tell Krogh about the mistake Miss Scobie had made - if it really was a mistake, and not a confused kind of premonition.

'You still haven't told the others?'

'Maybe tomorrow,' he said reluctantly.

There was sporadic firing later in the afternoon and at intervals all through the night, along with one or two distant explosions. Farrant was sure he heard a helicopter go overhead at one point, but almost too faint to be heard. After they had finished preparing the house and had their siesta, Krogh went off to look for Akueson, intending to get some kind of solid information about the situation in their area. The Smiths were still in the village, Miss Scobie seemed to be asleep, and Farrant had only Dallow and Querry for company.

They were playing cards on the verandah as usual, keeping score in a small notebook Dallow had produced. Farrant swallowed hard, sat down and watched the game. Maybe now was the time to tell them about his change.

Querry was talking. '...no question about it, man. This is the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me and I can't get to my vlog or even use fucking email to tell people about it. The net, that's what I'm missing most. What about you?'

Dallow let out a foul chuckle. 'Need you ask, son? If I hadn't been taking matters into my own hands I'd have balls the size of melons. Stuck out here with only Mrs Smith and Miss Scobie as examples of the fairer sex, can you credit it? Even if they were willing, how drunk would you need to get?' He cackled again.

Owen Querry grinned. 'You could ask the soldiers, see if there's any action down in the village...'

'Ain't got johnnies with me,' Dallow said. 'Going with one of these local girls, God knows what they're carrying. It's like playing Russian roulette with a shotgun, I tell you. Anyway, there's something to be said for wanking, it's sex with someone you love - eh, Farrant?'

Farrant forced himself to smile at the feeble old joke, did not trust himself to speak.

'You ever fucked an African girl, Owen? You should give it try before you leave,' Dallow said. 'Talk about uninhibited - it's the nearest thing to bestiality that's legal.'

'Had a girl in the old Czech Republic once,' Querry replied. 'That was pretty intense. Her name was Katya.'

'You remember all the names? Christ, you're still so young,' Dallow said, dealing the cards.

Farrant felt more than vaguely sick as the big man mopped at his brow again then concentrated on his cards. He imagined what would run through Dallow's head once he became aware of Farrant's condition and suppressed a shudder. There was no way he was going to tell him any sooner than he absolutely had to. Querry seemed harmless enough but appeared to have fallen into Dallow's gross and seedy orbit. He would keep his silence for as long as he could.

Five

That night Krogh told them the little Akueson had been willing to reveal. Though the exact circumstances were murky, alliance troops had crossed the border and heavy fighting was occurring as the army retreated towards the capital city in some disarray, most likely simply buying time for the president and other ministers to organise their escape. The rest of the country seemed to be sinking into chaos as deserters, bandits and opportunists made the most of the breakdown in authority.

'To be honest, I'm surprised Akueson and his men are still around,' Krogh concluded.

'Kidnapping us didn't achieve a thing,' Farrant said, trying to keep the sick bitterness out of his voice. He could have been back in the UK, back in his own life, still wholly male, and it would have made no difference whatsoever to anything that happened in this nightmare country. The skin around his chest and waist was beginning to feel stretched and itchy, but there were no visible changes there yet. 'Why don't they just let us go?'

'I think they have other things to worry about,' Dallow said. 'What's six people in the middle of a war zone?'

'I guess the best we can hope for is to be forgotten about until things calm down,' Owen said with a nervous grin.

'That's possibly the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say,' Krogh said, smiling. 'You are right; we need to be invisible here.' He looked at the Smiths. 'Could you stop leaving the estate? Maybe tell the villagers you are leaving.'

Mr Smith smiled back. 'I appreciate your concern, Mr Krogh, but the people there need our help. Mrs Smith and I both feel it would be inexcusable to abandon them in a crisis like this -'

'You realise you may be endangering all of us, not just yourselves?' Krogh asked quietly.

'I'm very sorry, Mr Krogh,' Mrs Smith said seriously. 'But my husband and I have our calling and we cannot abandon it.'

Dallow made a vague disgusted noise and looked away from the American couple. 'Well, as long as we've got our priorities straight,' he muttered.

Krogh ignored him. 'As you wish,' he said.

The next afternoon Farrant discussed it with Krogh as they played. Farrant's hair was now past his collar and he wore it tied back. He could see little subtle alterations in his jaw and cheekbones beginning to manifest, his eyes appearing larger and rounder. There would be no more concealment in a few more days, maybe even sooner if the tightness across his chest delivered on its promise.

'What can we do? We can hardly lock them up against their will?' Krogh said.

'Maybe you're right. I just - ' he shook his head. 'It just seems kind of stupid and selfish.'

'They would probably see it in opposite terms. The lens of faith,' Krogh said, shaking his head.

'If the government does fall -'

'More of a when than an if, but go on.'

' - what should we do then?'

Krogh shrugged. 'Wait for order to be restored. The alliance will probably put an intendent in charge of this district, and if you make your situation known to him he may be able to do something... though travel in and out of the alliance's territory is not noted for its ease or convenience, even with all the right documents.'

'You sound like you have other plans,' Farrant said.

'Do I?' Krogh smiled genially, made a move.

Farrant couldn't help smiling back. 'You're going to have to come clean some time, Krogh, even if only to me. I told you my secret -'

'I guessed your secret, John,' Krogh reminded him.

'All right then. But you clearly know this situation backwards, you've not looked surprised by any of it, sometimes it's even as if everything that's happened is - I don't know - according to plan, or something. We don't know anything about you, why you were in Liberia, your job, where you're from - '

'I'm from a little town called Kisa, seeing as you asked. Please be careful who you tell,' Krogh said, deadpan.

'Okay, so where's that? Finland? Denmark?'

'I'm from Sweden,' Krogh said. He smiled. 'Is that better?'

Farrant got the distinct impression he was being made fun of, flapped his hand at Krogh in disgust. 'All right, all right. Forget I said anything.'

'As if I could,' Krogh said, the smile remaining.

They both looked up as engines sounded on the driveway. Two jeeps were pulling in; Akueson in the first, the Smiths in the back of the second, surrounded by soldiers. The Americans got out clumsily as the other hostages gathered outside the house.

'My men and I have been ordered to leave the area,' Akueson said when they'd all assembled. 'I can't take you with me. The situation is not good; the Soldiers of God will be here in a few days. You should all be very careful.'

'At least leave us weapons,' Querry said.

Akueson shook his head. 'Everything is needed for the defence of the capital.' He looked at his driver. 'Allez!'

One of the men in the back stared at him. 'Mais capitain, les ordres...'

Akueson shook his head again, sharply this time. 'Je ne suis pas un murdrier. Allez!'

They had to step back sharply as the jeeps wheeled round and vanished up the drive. When they had gone the silence seemed somehow deeper and emptier than before.

'What was that about orders?' Dallow asked.

Krogh raised an eyebrow, glanced meaningfully at Farrant. 'We owe Akueson a favour.'

'Oh, really?' Farrant folded his arms.

'He said I am not a murderer,' Krogh said.

They stood in silence for a long moment.

'A good man, in the end, I think,' Mr Smith said quietly.

'Yeah, it's just too bad his conscience didn't show up two weeks earlier,' Farrant said.

'If it's any consolation, if he's been ordered south he'll likely be dead in a couple of days,' Krogh said mildly.

'I didn't say I wanted him dead, just -' Farrant shook his head in irritation.

Dallow turned round and started ambling towards the house. After a moment Querry followed him.

'Do you think we have time to get to the village and back before dark?' Mrs Smith asked her husband quietly.

'Not today, I'm afraid...' Mr Smith replied, giving her a wistful smile.

'You should really reconsider going at all,' Krogh said. 'Without your escort you would be very vulnerable.'

The Smiths looked at him, almost seeming surprised, then smiled pleasantly and went into the house together. Krogh looked at Farrant and shrugged, then went off to his bungalow. Farrant stayed where he was, kicking stones idly across the driveway, then went indoors as well.

There was more shooting in the night. The next day they found the Smiths had already got up and left for the village: so early even the servants didn't remember seeing them go. The four men met out amongst the trees, not through any spoken arrangement, but just through a shared sense of something important needing to be discussed.

Farrant was still in a surly mood, the creeping pain in his joints not helping matters much. 'If they want to risk their lives, let them. You warned them often enough.'

Krogh raised his eyebrows. 'And I thought I was meant to be the ruthless one.'

'If it was just about them I'd agree with Farrant,' Dallow said, leaning back against a tree. The poor diet and heat had not appreciably reduced his rolls of fat. 'Let 'em take their chances.'

'I sense a but coming,' Farrant said.

Dallow nodded. 'Every time they go out there, they're advertising to everyone who seems 'em that there's a house here full of defenceless foreigners. That can't be good, right now, can it?'

'What's your plan? Lock them in the cellar?' Owen said. 'Manacles?'

Dallow shrugged. 'I don't know, I'm just saying we have to think of our own needs, not just the social niceties.'

'I can't imagine that presenting you with much of a strain, Dallow,' Krogh said.

The big man stared at him. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Come on, let's keep it together,' Owen Querry said quickly. 'Jim's got a point. It's not just themselves they're endangering.'

'You said yourself we can't exactly physically prevent them,' Farrant said.

'So we'll try again to persuade them verbally,' Krogh said. 'That would be the ideal solution, wouldn't it?'

'Guess so,' Querry said.

'All right. Maybe if we talk to them individually rather than as a couple. I will talk to Mr Smith.' Krogh's gaze flicked quickly from Dallow, to Querry, to Farrant. 'John, will you try Mrs Smith?'

Farrant shrugged. 'If you think it would help.'

For the first time they heard gunfire during the day, in the early afternoon, from a different direction to the one all the other shots had comes from. So they were surrounded. Maybe. It was impossible to know anything for sure, they were so isolated from the outside world. But it gave the situation with the Smiths an extra sense of urgency.

The couple returned a little later than usual, clearly not having anticipated how long the walk back would take. They looked tired and worn and hardly ready for a serious discussion. Farrant screwed his sympathy tightly back - that was an advantage, then, wasn't it?

Krogh took Mr Smith off on the pretext of discussing the food supply situation, leaving Mrs Smith in one of the smaller sitting rooms in the main house. Farrant stood awkwardly in the doorway and smiled weakly.

Mrs Smith returned it, wearily. 'Can I help you, Mr Farrant?'

'I - I don't know, I was just wondering how it was in the village?'

'The same as usual, I guess,' she said.

'Are the people scared?'

'Most of them are too busy working to stay alive to be scared. People like us don't realise what it means to be really hungry or poor or sick,' she said.

'I suppose not,' Farrant said. 'Do you think it'll make a lot of difference to them, if the alliance takes over?'

'I suppose we can hope,' Mrs Smith said. 'The alliance has so many people of God in positions of power, you'd think it'd have to be an improvement, wouldn't you? I know you're not a believer, Mr Farrant -'

He smiled. 'It's okay. Do you think the villagers will still need you, then?'

She looked at him sharply, but kept her smile. 'I'm sorry, Mr Farrant?'

'I mean - with the alliance coming -'

'Mr Smith and I could just stay here all day like Mr Krogh wants us to?'

'It's not just Krogh.'

It was her turn to wave aside his interjection. 'For shame, Mr Farrant. We don't just do this because we think it's a nice idea or it's sensible, we do it because we have to, because it's demanded of us...' She broke off. 'Do you honestly think it would make you any safer if we stayed here all day? Do you think the servants don't talk, when they go into the villages? That Captain Akueson's men didn't talk to the locals? People know we're here. Maybe if Mr Smith and I do something to help them, they might be a little more ready to help us if we need it. Does that make sense in your terms, Mr Farrant?'

He raised his hands, felt a burning flush settle on his cheeks. Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't. It all existed up in that immaterial dimension, the realm of ideas and politics and religion and emotion, which was seeming increasingly irrelevant as time went by. They lived in the realm of flesh and fear and food now, of gunshots in the night and listening carefully for every engine noise that approached. He heard someone clear his throat behind him, turned and saw Mr Smith. The man was smiling, as usual, but it had no warmth in it.

'Coming upstairs, dear?' Mr Smith asked.

'Yes, of course,' Mrs Smith said. She moved past Farrant with a serene smile on her face and the two of them went up to their bedroom. Farrant turned and saw Krogh waiting in the hall. He shook his head. Krogh smiled ruefully and held up his hands in a what-can-you-do? gesture. Then they went their separate ways.

Six

An eerie silence all that night and the next day. Farrant was struggling to find things to do to fill his time, to cope with the enforced inactivity. It seemed the same for Querry, who'd taken to going for long runs around the estate first thing in the morning and before dinner. Dallow didn't seemed troubled at all; Farrant often came across him asleep in the courtyard, whether it was near siesta time or not. He actually seemed to be putting on weight. Krogh was inevitably a sphinx.

But the Smiths did not return for dinner that night. They waited an hour or two and then ate without them in silence for a while.

'Maybe they got sick,' Owen Querry said eventually.

'They'd've sent a message. They'd know we would worry,' Krogh said.

Dallow snorted. 'They've hardly been that considerate so far.'

'Mr Dallow,' Miss Scobie said sharply. 'Mr and Mrs Smith have been impeccable members of our group so far. Please don't insult them behind their backs.'

Dallow looked startled, mumbled an apology: the bad boy scolded by the teacher, Farrant thought with a smile. 'Could we get Centime or one of the other servants to go to the village tonight and check?' he asked.

'I'd rather not send anyone tonight,' Miss Scobie said. 'But first thing, certainly.'

The Smiths had still not reappeared the next morning and Miss Scobie assured them that she had sent one of the boys to the village. They passed a nervous morning, not speaking much, until the boy returned at lunchtime, looking nervous. He went in to see Miss Scobie, who joined them on the verandah after a moment.

'Lucien says the people in the village haven't seen Mr and Mrs Smith for days,' she said.

Owen frowned. 'I don't understand - did he go to the right place?'

'Oh yes, I'm quite sure of that,' Miss Scobie said. 'It could mean - oh, dear - ' She looked away, grew pale.

Dallow scowled. 'Lying bastards...'

'Don't be so harsh,' Krogh said. 'Fear has been part of these people's lives for generations.'

'What do you think's happened to them?' Farrant asked.

'Something bad, if the villagers are all refusing to talk about it. I don't think it's necessarily their doing, but simply admitting to knowing something can be disastrous sometimes... guilt by association, you know,' Krogh said.

'So what do we do?' Querry asked, staring at the tabletop.

Dallow heaved his shoulders up and down. 'We tried to warn them.'

'You would abandon them?' Miss Scobie looked icily at him.

'We have no weapons, no real knowledge of what's happening around here,' Krogh said. Dallow looked surprised to be backed up by the other man. 'We don't know who to talk to, where to look... it would be taking a big risk to press the issue in the village.'

'I guess you're right...' Owen Querry said, avoiding looking at any of them.

Farrant swallowed hard. Self-preservation, self-interest was king in the realm of flesh, it seemed. He felt a sudden desperate longing for the old world, the world of ideas and sentiment - an equally fierce need to send out some sort of signal, showing himself that he could hope to return there one day. 'Krogh... you once spoke to me about the group... about us looking out for one another...'

Krogh nodded. 'Yes I did.'

'We can't just give up on them so easily. Even if it's just so we can say at least we did something ten years from now... for our own sake as well as theirs...'

Dallow made an amused snorting sound but Querry looked up, almost hopefully. Krogh was silent for a long time, then nodded, a slight smile playing across his face. 'John is right. It may not be sensible, but it's human. I will go into the village this afternoon.'

'I'll come with you,' Farrant said.

Krogh shook his head. 'I think no. Mr Querry, will you come with me?'

The American looked confused. 'Yeah, sure,' he said.

Krogh looked at Dallow, smiling. The big man laughed to himself, then shook his head. 'Forget it.'

'As I thought. Stay here with Farrant and look after the house,' Krogh said. He stood up. 'I'll start getting things ready, we'll go about two.'

Krogh and Querry went, followed after a moment by Miss Scobie.

'This is turning into Big Brother,' Dallow said, sounding darkly amused as usual. 'Last one to leave the house gets to keep breathing. You genuinely wanted to go, didn't you?'

'I didn't want to go, I felt I had to,' Farrant said, aware of how much he was echoing Mrs Smith's sentiments from their last conversation.

'Well, anyway, you got lucky. Krogh doesn't want you along,' Dallow said. The man's curiosity was obvious, and Farrant felt his eyes on him uncomfortably. 'Do you know why?'

Farrant knew exactly why and was suddenly very grateful to the older man. 'No.' Lying to Dallow scarcely felt wrong at all.

'Mmmp.' Dallow got up, clearly still suspicious. Farrant was glad to be alone, still felt on edge.

The house and its surroundings felt suddenly deserted with the Smiths, Krogh, and Querry all gone. He spent the afternoon in his cabin, half- sleeping, uneasy. What if whatever had overtaken the Smiths swallowed up Krogh and Querry as well? Would he be stranded here with Dallow? Something about the idea made his skin crawl. He began to regret even suggesting that they should look for the Smiths, forgot his earlier ideals.

Night fell and he ate a small meal by himself. The normal susurrus of insect and bird noise from the trees and scrub surrounding the house felt almost like a physical wall closing in around them, with the stars glinting down dispassionately from overhead. Still no sign of Krogh and Querry returning.

The coughing of an engine in the drive took him totally by surprise and he was out in the courtyard before he knew what he was doing. A decrepit jeep was standing in front of the house with its engine running, and standing around it were four men in shabby nondescript uniforms, carrying guns of various types. He noticed Dallow coming around the back of the house cautiously even as Miss Scobie emerged from the front. She said something sharply to the nearest man in one of the local languages.

Clearly unused to being snapped at by an old woman, the man responded harshly, pointing to the house, the bungalows. He hefted his weapon pointedly. Miss Scobie responded with a stream of outraged fury, which provoked only laughter from the men. Their leader shouted something to the others over his shoulder, made for the front door, but found Miss Scobie in his way, beating at him with her tiny fists. Without even pausing he backhanded her across the face, smashing her to the ground.

'Wait!' Farrant found he was running forward, putting himself in view of all four men. They were all staring at him now. The leader came towards him, ignoring Miss Scobie, who lay on the ground like a broken doll. The man asked a question, but it was just alien sound to Farrant. He shrugged, smiled feebly, found a block of ice swelling in his guts. The man made his demand again, again, and then one of the others muttered something and he nodded.

Farrant took a step back and the man said something sharply. He froze. The man reached out and plucked at the collar of Farrant's shirt, looking him up and down with open curiosity. He said something to the others and this time they laughed.

Farrant panicked, turned to run, but the man's hand was grabbing at his hair, pulling the ponytail loose. He yelped in pain as the man hauled him back, grabbed at the neck and shoulder of his shirt. Fabric tore noisily and he felt the shirt come open at the front. His legs were kicked out from under him and he hit the ground hard. The man stood over him, looking down stonily. Farrant glanced at his exposed chest: it was hairless and his small breasts were evident even in the dim light from the jeep's headlights. The man reached down and grabbed his hair, dragged him upright regardless of Farrant's shrieks.

Farrant felt his hair fall in a tangle around his shoulders. The man looked sternly at Farrant and plucked at his own shirt, said something. Farrant shook his head, helpless, uncomprehending. The man sighed, muttered something and pulled one side of Farrant's shirt off over his shoulder, then plucked at his own shirt. Farrant shook his head again desperately, but the man hefted his rifle again silently. Farrant nodded and quickly slipped off his shirt, considered trying to cover his breasts, put his hands on his thighs nervously. The man in front of him leered and touched his own trousers.

Fighting nausea, Farrant unfastened his belt and let his trousers fall. He kicked them off along with his shoes. He was going to be sick any moment now. The man made a 'carry on' gesture. Numbly Farrant slipped down his underpants and stepped out of them, naked but for his socks. The tiny vestiges of his male genitals were still just about visible. The man in front of him seemed impressed by his pale white figure, as were the two men by the jeep. There was something odd about that but before he could think the man had grabbed his arm and was dragging him towards the house -

The shot sounded clear and crisp at short range. The man thrashed once and something splashed onto Farrant's face and chest, then he fell, releasing his grip as he did so. The two other soldiers boggled for a moment, then started to turn, but as they did so the gun sounded again and one of them was knocked from his feet as well. Farrant stared at the jeep. Krogh was standing behind it holding a handgun, looking calm, almost as if this was routine for him. The last soldier started to bring his gun up and Krogh fired a third and fourth shot. The soldier went down without a sound.

'Krogh... I.... oh my God.' Farrant felt his knees give way and flopped loosely onto the ground, the bare soil coarse against his naked legs and buttocks.

'It's okay,' Krogh said. 'There were only four of them.' He stepped over the body of the last man, whom he'd taken the pistol from. 'Luckily they were all looking at you.'

'Lucky,' Farrant said. Suddenly the urge to vomit was uncontrollable and he retched onto the ground in front of him. 'If you hadn't come back...'

'I'm sorry,' Krogh said. He glanced over his shoulder. 'You can come out now.'

Querry emerged from the scrub, looking pale. He stared at the four corpses helplessly, until he noticed the naked Farrant kneeling on the ground, at which point he started staring at him. 'Jeeezus... Farrant, you're a girl...'

'Shut up, Owen,' Krogh said. 'Dallow, it's safe for you, too.' His tone was as close to mocking as it had ever been.

Dallow came out from behind the house, looking almost slyly amused, if anything. 'They weren't the only ones looking at Farrant. You're a dark horse, aren't you? Dark mare, I should say...'

'Fuck you, Dallow,' Farrant said wearily. Dallow's only response was a grin.

'Oh shit! Miss Scobie!' Owen had finally noticed the old woman's sprawled body.

'Damn,' Krogh said. 'We need to get her inside. Dallow, give me a hand. Owen, move the jeep and the bodies. John, will you be all right for a while?'

Farrant nodded as Dallow started to object. 'Who the fuck put you in charge?'

'If it makes it any easier,' Krogh said shortly, 'this does.' He held up the handgun he still gripped, but pointed it up in the air rather than at the big man.

Dallow came forward in silence and helped take Miss Scobie's legs. Farrant grabbed his clothes and went into his cabin, sat emptily on the bed, made no attempt to dress again. Eventually he lay down and eventually he went to sleep.

Seven

The next day he did get up and he did dress and he went into the main house. He found Krogh sitting in Miss Scobie's room, looking at the old woman. She did look like an old woman now, pallid and brittle somehow.

'How is she?' Farrant asked.

Krogh shook his head slightly. 'Her heart again, I think. Her pulse is not strong and she hasn't really woken up since we put her here. How do you feel?'

Farrant shrugged. 'Could've been a lot worse. Part of me thinks that everybody knowing is the worst thing. At least I won't have to worry about hiding it now.'

'That's why your hair is loose, I suppose,' Krogh said.

'Uh - yeah,' Farrant said, putting a hand to it instinctively. 'Any sign of the Smiths?'

'Nobody would talk. I am afraid of the worst,' Krogh said. 'I don't think we will see them again.'

'Could they have met those men? The ones from last night?'

'Maybe. Who can say?'

'Who were they? Alliance?'

'I doubt it,' Krogh said. 'Not disciplined enough. Maybe deserters, from either side. Possibly just bandits, they had a mix of weapons.'

'You're an expert on guns,' Farrant said; a statement, not a question.

'Of course,' Krogh said with a thin smile. 'I helped Owen move the bodies once Miss Scobie was safely up here. I thought it best to secure the guns before he or particularly Dallow had any ideas along the same lines.'

'You take it for granted that you're the only person entitled to have access to weapons, then.'

'Yes. I know how to use them, for one thing. Do you object?'

'I've no right to, I owe you - God knows how much I owe you,' Farrant said. 'Krogh - I - last night -'

'Don't mention it. What else was I supposed to do?' Krogh asked. 'But... I'm sure you are intelligent, John. Think about your situation here now. Let's try and keep things... rational, shall we say.'

He couldn't figure out what Krogh had meant. Not that he didn't have enough to worry about. He felt more aware of his change than ever now, and perhaps he was further along than he had realised... life in the house had changed forever now that the Smiths were gone and Miss Scobie was so ill - and, he supposed, now his own secret was out. The big group meals on the verandah were a thing of the past, and most of the servants had dropped out of sight, run off back to their families, perhaps.

Looking after Miss Scobie became their main concern. She never seemed to be completely conscious, never looked like leaving her bed. They took it in turns to sit with her, just to keep an eye, even Dallow doing his bit, waiting, just waiting, day after day. One of the servants told Krogh that news was that the capital had fallen and there was a new government now, a new president. What did that mean, Farrant wondered, were they free to go?

He was sitting in the courtyard thinking idly about it and picking small stones out of his feet when Owen Querry came out of the house. 'Hey,' he said.

'Hey,' Farrant echoed. 'How is she?'

'She's not getting stronger,' Owen said. 'Maybe with a proper doctor... shit! It just seems ridiculous that... I don't know.'

'I know how you feel. You mean it could have been avoided so easily if people just behaved sensibly,' Farrant said. He looked down at himself. 'Believe me, I understand.'

'Was going to go for a walk round the estate, just check, you know,' Querry said. 'Do you want to come with me?'

'I - ah - no thanks, Owen,' Farrant said. Something about his manner was making alarm bells ring in the back of Farrant's head. 'My shoes don't fit me any more.'

'Maybe Miss Scobie has something you can borrow, I'll wait.'

'No, don't. Maybe another time,' Farrant said. Querry nodded and went off, looking a little crestfallen.

He needed a new pair of shoes, though. He needed lots of new clothes, if he was honest. His old male gear fitted on him, yes, but it was ridiculously loose and poorly fitting, even when it wasn't too heavy. Miss Scobie was too tiny and birdlike to be anything close to his size, but... Jesus. The Smiths' stuff was still in their old room. They'd idly talked about clearing it, or at least putting it in one of the outhouses, but maybe they were still hoping for a miracle... the Smiths would've approved.

'She would've approved,' Farrant told himself as he went quietly into their room. Mrs Smith's stuff was still in the chest of drawers and wardrobe. He struggled to throw off the sense of guilt that settled onto him. Mrs Smith, I'm sorry, he thought, framing the words in the closest thing to a prayer he'd made in decades, but I really need your help. I hope you understand why I'm doing this. Absurdly that made him feel a little better. He picked up her sandals. They fitted him quite well, maybe a little tight across the instep. Apart from that it was simply a relief to be wearing something that actually fitted him.

He pulled at his shirt idly and then started to undress properly. He looked at himself in the mirror, starting to accept that to a casual observer his body was now apparently female. It was not him... not the old him... but it was still his flesh, he realised. With a little internal gulp he found a pair of panties and pulled them on. They were hardly stylish, as you'd expect from a missionary in her late forties, but they fit. He found a pair of slacks he'd seen her wearing and tried them on too. All right, he thought, I'm wearing women's clothing, but it fits, that's the important thing, it fits and it's practical, and everything else is... he let go of the thought, picked up a plain white blouse made of a coarse linen. Farrant slipped it on and was impressed by the fit, but the material prickled across his nipples and he made to discard it again.

Then... oh, what the hell, he thought, and started putting on one of her bras. Man, woman, it's just an idea anyway, isn't it? He tweaked the straps and cups into place, looked at himself in the mirror and saw himself nodding. Actually, it looked like a slim youngish woman with long dark hair nodding, but... He slid the blouse on again, over the bra, and this time it was fine. He slipped on the sandals and made for the door, buttoning the blouse as he went... saw a shadow looming there.

'How long were you there watching me?' Farrant said, trying to keep his voice low and even.

Dallow grinned. He looked Farrant up and down, slowly. 'Long enough. No harm, is there? All boys together now, aren't we?'

'Don't be stupid,' Farrant said.

'I'm not the one who came out here with the Ladyflu,' Dallow said, still smirking. 'How's it feel, Farrant? What's it like when you get wet? Good as jerking off?'

'Oh, fuck off,' Farrant said, more in disgust than anger, turning away.

'Or don't you know yet? If you need a hand... or anything else...' Dallow let the offer the trail away in the air. As Farrant strode away he found himself blushing furiously.

'You're quiet, John,' Krogh said after dinner as they played chess by lanternlight. Dallow was upstairs supposedly looking after Miss Scobie; Querry had gone for another walk. Once again he had invited Farrant to join him.

'I...' Farrant shrugged. 'I don't know what to say, Krogh, this'll sound...'

'Try me.'

'The others are - they're being weird.'

'Mmm. Why do you think that is?'

'Don't act stupid, Krogh, it's because of -' He indicated his altered body, clothing, hair. Even his voice was sliding up the register. 'Because of this.'

'They're treating you like a woman. How does that make you feel?'

'Weird.' He struggled to be more specific. 'I don't feel... I don't know. Not safe, somehow.'

'You're effectively a single woman all alone in a lawless area with three single men deprived of all other female company.' His eyes flicked up to the house. 'Miss Scobie barely counts. I'm not surprised you feel threatened.'

'So what can we do?'

'We?'

Farrant realised with a shock how much he'd come to rely on Krogh's counsel and insightful thinking. 'I... I'm asking for your advice, Krogh.'

Krogh surveyed the board for a long time before speaking. 'Dallow simply wants to have sex with you. Owen appears to be on the verge of falling in love with you, or at least persuading himself he's in love with you, which is basically just so he can justify his wanting to have sex with you. You'd get no emotional sensitivity from one and probably too much from the other. It's not an ideal choice.'

'I'm not going to have... I'm not choosing either of them, Krogh. I don't have to,' Farrant said, appalled at the chilly logic of the man.

'Well, if you think so, you don't have a problem, do you?' He smiled reasonably and carried on with the game.

Eight

A well-maintained and reasonably clean land rover came up to the house the next day, quite unexpectedly, the red-and-white emblem of the alliance flying from a pennant on the bonnet. Two men in the uniform of the alliance military got out along with a young man in a grey suit. Querry was the first to see them and urgently called them together in the main room. A servant went upstairs to sit with Miss Scobie and the foreigners and their visitors sat down a little awkwardly with the suited man and one of the soldiers; the other was around somewhere, assessing the estate.

'Well, then,' said the man in the suit. His English was excellent, with a faint American accent. 'My name is Jacob Canaan, and I am the new intendent for this district. I hope you are all well?'

They made vague, positive noises, and then Canaan went on. 'What do you understand of your situation here?'

'The old government took us hostage to try and strong-arm the west into helping them fight - well, your side,' Querry said with a shrug. 'That didn't work out, so we've been stuck here in the middle of nowhere with no news, nothing. There were two other Americans here - a couple. They went out a few days ago and haven't come back. We're worried - '

Canaan made a gesture indicating helplessness. 'I have no information. Until recently this area was completely lawless - I would not expect good news.'

'I take it this country has now joined the alliance?' Krogh asked. He seemed slightly tense, Farrant thought, most unusually for him. Moreso than the others, in fact.

'Yes, indeed,' Canaan said, his smile returning somewhat. 'The war is over.'

'Forever?'

'We will always have enemies,' Canaan said mildly.

'Does that mean we can go?' Querry asked.

Canaan looked slightly evasive. 'There's still a degree of turmoil in this country. In addition to this, normal relations have not yet been established with countries outside the alliance itself... you have no documents...'

'So we're still stuck here,' Dallow said. He grunted. 'Brilliant.'

'Your current situation does not seem disagreeable,' Canaan said, gently. 'We have no intention of - interfering with your lives here. If you give me your names and details I will inform your governments, your families...'

It made no difference now, anyway, Farrant thought. He was a woman now, really, had become one here in this house - he had no idea how he would pick up the threads of his old life back in the UK... remembering it was remembering another person in every way that actually meant anything. Suddenly he was aware of Canaan smiling at him, expectantly.

'Your name, please?' Canaan said, obviously not for the first time.

'Farrant. John Farrant. British citizen. My - '

'John Farrant?' The soldier spoke for the first time, sounding bemused.

'Farrant's had the sex change virus,' Dallow said.

'There's no such virus,' Canaan said blandly. 'For us it is simply the Lord's will.'

'In any case, Mr Farrant wishes to retain his male gender,' Krogh said.

Canaan shrugged. 'You are our guests.'

The men from the alliance finished taking their details and rose. Canaan said, 'We'll keep you informed of the situation. As soon as possible we'll try to have you repatriated or moved to a better location.' He nodded, clearly assuming the meeting was over.

'Actually - ' It was Krogh. 'There's a matter I'd like to speak to you about. Privately.'

Both the Africans looked surprised, but nodded. Farrant, Querry and Dallow found themselves out in the hallway.

'What the fuck's he playing at?' Dallow said, looking at Farrant.

'I don't know. Why are you looking at me?'

'Cos you two are thick together all the time, you're the one he talks to.' Dallow loaded the sentence with insinuation.

'Come on, she doesn't know. Leave her alone,' Querry said.

'Oh, my hero,' Dallow said.

'Grow up, both of you,' Farrant said. He went upstairs, dismissed the servant watching Miss Scobie. The old lady was continuing to deteriorate quickly. He held her hand impotently, not really expecting her to wake up again.

After a long while he heard cautious movement in the doorway. 'Any change?'

'Only for the worse. What was that all about, Krogh?'

'My business. I've done my bit to keep everyone else safe, I think I've earned a little privacy,' Krogh said, going over to look out of the window.

'I can't argue with that. But I thought... well, it would be more than just earning merit and rewards and... whatever,' Farrant said. 'You were the one who said you needed friends. That what affects one, affects everyone...'

Krogh nodded. 'I can't see it'll make any difference. All right, I was basically asking the alliance for a job.'

'You what?'

'I am - was - a professional soldier. The alliance has a huge army but it's badly trained, amateurish. They need skilled people to train their men. I am a skilled person.'

'You're a mercenary.'

'If you like, but that really just means I work for money, not any finer feeling. I suppose you design buildings for the love of it?'

Farrant sighed. 'That's different.'

'And I thought you were becoming a pragmatist, John. Anyway, I knew I could get a good position here, it was just getting into alliance territory that was a problem. I'd heard rumours of westerners being - diverted - into the front line area as hostages. I knew it could be my way in.'

'So you knew our plane was going to be rerouted -'

'I suspected, I didn't -'

'Why didn't you tell anyone? The Smiths are probably dead! Look at me!' Farrant found himself crying with anger and shock and - yes, damn it - betrayal. 'If you'd said something -'

'They'd have kidnapped another group anyway,' Krogh said sharply. 'I didn't know any of you. I'm truly sorry about your condition, John, but I didn't know you then. If the Smiths had been reasonable they'd still be alive now.'

'You're so fucking cold -' Miss Scobie moaned in her sleep, clearly upset by Farrant's shouting. Farrant stood up, shut his eyes, forced himself to speak civilly. 'Can you look after her?'

'That's why I came up here.'

'Good. I don't want to be here with you any more.'

Farrant went downstairs, found he was still wiping tears from his eyes as he went out into the courtyard.

'Trouble in paradise?' Dallow was sprawled in the shade, smoking a cigarette he'd obviously cadged from one of Canaan's men. 'That was a loud old tiff the two of you had. You always so noisy, Farrant?'

'Fuck you,' Farrant said wearily, not even meeting his gaze, and went into his cabin.

There was no chess game that afternoon. Farrant had never felt so alone, repelled by Krogh's icy manipulativeness, Dallow's lasciviousness, Querry's loose and adolescent emotion. He napped alone, sat alone, ate alone, went to bed after an evening alone, fell asleep alone.

He was dimly awoken by the sheet he lay under being drawn back, snapped fully alert by the sweaty paw groping at one of his breasts. It took a moment for everything to snap into place, but then in the blue-greys of the deepest night he could make out the bulk of Dallow, naked, as he lowered himself onto Farrant. He was grinning, glistening with sweat. Farrant heard an inarticulate choking noise, realised it was him.

'Fuck *you*,' Dallow was whispering. 'Yes I am, I'm going to fuck your brains out, Farrant...'

'Please, no...'

'Oh, you want it really, I can tell...' With surprising speed Dallow grabbed one of his wrists, pulled his arm back over his head. 'You don't need to act all unfriendly any more...'

'The others - '

'I don't give a shit about the others. You invited me in here, didn't you? My word against yours... you might even like it...'

Dallow's surging erection brushed against Farrant's belly and he shrieked, a full, high, girlish scream. Dallow was startled, flinched, and Farrant tore his hand free, squirmed out from under the man. He tried to run for the door but Dallow backed up too quickly and Farrant retreated to the far corner.

'All right then, we'll do it rough,' Dallow said, starting to advance.

Owen Querry appeared in the doorway behind Dallow, his eyes boggling as he realised what was happening.

'Owen, help!' Farrant said, not even worrying about his own nudity.

'All right Owen, no need for fisticuffs,' Dallow said, not even looking at the youth. 'We can both have a go. Just look at her...'

'You bastard,' Querry said. 'Get out of here!'

'Oh, fuck off,' Dallow said. 'Join in or get out, son.'

Querry moved forward, trying to get his elbow around Dallow's throat in a chokehold, but the big man simply bent forward, pulling him off his feet. Dallow moved quickly and smoothly, slamming himself against the wall and crushing Querry with his own bulk. Owen sagged, winded, and Dallow turned and drove his knee into the American's groin. Querry grunted in pain and his arms spasmed uselessly; Dallow delivered one heavy shot to his head from each fist and Querry slumped to the floor. Dallow turned again, and now he was grinning as he came forward; if anything his prick looked even more urgently engorged.

'This is getting me in the mood,' he said.

'All right, Dallow.'

This time it was Krogh, and Farrant felt his heart swell with an inexplicable, inexpressible relief. Dallow turned round quickly to see the other man in the door. 'Krogh - '

'Would you like to fight me as well?' Krogh spoke very quietly.

Dallow took a half-step back. Farrant sprang across the bed to stand next to Krogh. 'Listen, Krogh - she invited me - it was all her idea, the bitch - '

'Spare me.' Krogh moved further into the room, freeing the doorway. 'Get back to your room.'

The big man grabbed the clothes he'd removed and left them alone there. Now Farrant was suddenly aware of his nakedness; clearly Krogh was as well. Without a word needing to be spoken, Farrant pulled on a pair of knickers and one of his old male vests, which now served quite well as a nightdress, while Krogh gently woke Querry up.

'W-what happened?'

'You beat him. Good job,' Krogh said. 'You should go back to bed now, though.'

'Oh, okay...'

While Krogh helped Owen to his own room, Farrant sat down on the edge of the decking outside the bungalow and ran a hand through his hair. If Dallow had thought to gag him first - if his scream hadn't reached Querry - if Krogh hadn't heard the brawl from where he'd been sitting with Miss Scobie - he would have been raped by now. Dallow was clearly capable of it. He was now physically capable of being raped. He swallowed hard. Krogh came and sat down next to him, silent.

'I'm sorry,' he eventually said.

'Hardly your fault,' Farrant said tiredly. 'What do we do now?'

'Do you want me to kill Dallow?'

'Are you serious? Jesus...'

Krogh shrugged. 'There's no police force here, and even if there was, it's only your word against his. If I have to go away... how will you protect yourself? If you want to be sure he won't try again...'

Farrant rested his forehead on his knees. 'Oh Christ, I don't know.'

'I'd rather kill him than see him destroy you,' Krogh said.

'Really?'

'No question,' Krogh said, smiling.

'I - no, don't kill him.' Farrant sighed. 'Let's see how it goes for now.' He was dimly aware he was letting sentiment get in the way of self- interest, not yet fully at ease in the realm of flesh...

Krogh nodded, stood up. 'Will you be all right now?'

Farrant glanced at the door to his bungalow, the shape as black and rectilinear as a grave. He couldn't suppress a shudder. 'I can't promise to sleep much.'

'Ah. I see.' Krogh looked away. 'You don't have to be alone. You can sleep in my cabin - if you wish.'

'Are you sure?'

Krogh nodded again, helped Farrant up. Krogh's bungalow seemed meticulously well arranged even though it was virtually identical to Farrant's own. He had no sofa or couch, but his bed was easily big enough for two to sleep, barely touching. Farrant kept his things on, slid under the mosquito net a little nervously, closed his eyes. He heard vague noises, realised Krogh was undressing. He felt the other man - *other* man? - slide under the sheet next to him, faintly felt the brush of skin on skin, found he was flushed and nervous, braced himself for whatever came next.

'Goodnight, John. Sleep well,' Krogh said, briskly, and the light went out. A few seconds later Farrant could hear snoring.

Nine

Farrant was woken by the early light, took a moment to recall where he was - and why. Krogh had shifted in the night and his arm lay gently across Farrant's side, his hand resting on Farrant's belly. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Possibly more carefully than he'd ever done anything in his life, Farrant dislodged the hand without waking its owner and slipped out of the bed.

He dressed and, not without a little trepidation, went into the main house. His first visit was to the kitchen, for some juice and a chunk of bread. The breadknife went into the belt of his trousers, just in case. He had every reason to think Dallow was in this house somewhere. He went upstairs as quietly as he could. Dallow's door was almost closed, the room beyond dim. He found his fingers playing with the handle of the knife, recalled Krogh's offer the previous night. No-one's ever offered to kill someone for me before, he thought to himself. Did he want the fat man dead after all he'd done, or tried to do? What was the sensible option? What was the civilised option? Which was applicable in this place and at this time?

He went into Miss Scobie's room and relieved the servant girl who'd been with her all night. The old lady was breathing in quick little gasps, more than asleep. Farrant sat with her silently, thinking, another pointless victim of another pointless conflict, only important to the mighty thinkers on each side, nothing really changing for the people caught in the middle of it, what were ideas, theology, politics? Labels for empty jars, as far as the villagers were concerned. No changes.

He looked at the woman who sat looking sadly at him from the mirror. Well, maybe some things changed. He thought the woman might look quite beautiful if she ever smiled. That seemed pretty unlikely at the moment. He rested his head against the back of the chair, curled up his legs, and after a while he slept again.

He woke again in the heat of the day, found Krogh's hand on his arm as he offered him a glass of water. Miss Scobie was still out, her breathing if anything even more rapid and laboured.

'Do you think it's just her heart?'

'I don't know. Medicine is sort of the opposite of my trade,' Krogh said with a bleak smile. 'I don't think... well, I don't think she has long.'

'This is her house. What'll happen to us?'

Krogh shrugged. 'We have nine-tenths of the law on our side. She has no heirs... I shouldn't think it'll be an issue, for the time we'll be here at least.'

'What happened with your...' Farrant couldn't help smiling. 'Your job application?'

'Canaan's taking it to his superiors. I'm quietly hopeful. The alliance has expanded a long way in the last two years, they'll be looking to consolidate and build up their defences. That's my territory.'

'There won't be any ethnic problems?'

He smiled. 'The generals will be pragmatists. Idealists don't live long enough to get promoted. I may have to go to church twice a week for the look of the thing, but I've done worse in the line of duty...'

'I'll bet...'

Farrant got them both some lunch and they ate in silence. 'Have you seen Dallow today?' Farrant said eventually.

'I haven't been looking. Have you thought some more about...'

'If I start thinking like that, I'll never be able to go home again. Once you...'

'Once you surrender yourself, it's an irreversible transformation. I know,' Krogh said, staring into space.

Miss Scobie's breathing was becoming shallower, harder to hear. Her fingers twitched limply on the sheet and Farrant took her hand, squeezed it hard. The three of them sat there until the breathing faded away entirely and there were only two of them in the room.

Farrant went out into the grounds with Krogh and Querry and watched the two men dig the grave. He couldn't contribute, but didn't want to be alone in the house with Dallow still around somewhere. The ground was hard and dry and the two men were soon sweating profusely, too exercised to talk. It was growing dark by the time the job was done.

'Do we do it now?' Owen Querry asked. He had a bruise on one side of his jaw but showed no other sign of his run-in with Dallow.

Krogh looked up at the darkening sky. 'I don't fancy filling this in again in the dark. We'll do it first thing.'

They went back to the house and scratched a meal together - their house, now. Farrant could sense them realising it simultaneously with him. It was one way to get on the property ladder. After dinner Querry excused himself and left the two of them alone.

'Chess?' Krogh asked.

They sat and played in the courtyard, by lanternlight as usual. It was a close game; Krogh was contemplating his movie when he instantly noticed Farrant freezing. Dallow had come up the drive, his clothes even scruffier than usual. His eyes met Farrant's, and they were empty, Farrant thought, full of nothing good, nothing warm. Krogh looked round at Dallow but did not speak. The big man did not come any closer, just went into the house through the front door.

'He was out all day,' Farrant said, running his hands through his hair. 'Jesus, what am I going to do?'

'My offer still stands,' Krogh said.

'Which one?'

'I was under the impression there was only one.' He sounded mildly surprised.

'I...' Farrant shrugged helplessly. 'I don't want to sleep alone if he's around... if I could sleep in your room again... we don't even have to share the bed...'

Krogh looked away. 'You expect a lot from me,' he said.

'Please, I only want to sleep in the same room as you... I need to be with someone I trust -'

'That's what I mean. John, you're - you appear to be - a very attractive woman. I'm not so different from Dallow in some ways. You, ah...' he smiled. 'You make it hard for me.'

'I - I didn't know.'

'And that didn't help,' Krogh said. The smile had gone. 'You need to be aware of these things. Your life has changed.'

'I - I'm sorry.' It was all he could say.

'It's all right. Now you know,' Krogh said. He moved his bishop forward and they completed the game in silence.

Farrant yawned. 'I can't believe I'm so tired...'

'Nerves,' Krogh said, collecting up the pieces. 'We should be up early for the burial, anyway, before it gets too hot.'

'Okay.' Farrant stood up, headed for his own doorway uneasily.

'Where are you going?' Krogh sounded puzzled.

'I thought -'

'I didn't say no. If it will make you comfortable - ' Krogh indicated his own room in silence.

They undressed in silence, Farrant stripping down to just his long vest. As he'd thought, Krogh slept nude. The older man didn't seem to be stealing any glances, but Farrant couldn't help swallowing hard a couple of times, for no reason he could rationalise. Finally they were laying side by side together, facing in opposite directions. Farrant lay there restlessly and then rolled over and whispered quickly before he could think about what he was saying.

'Krogh, if you really want me you can have me, I realise it's got to be someone in this situation and I'd rather it was you than Querry or Dallow, so just tell me and we can...' He broke down feebly.

And Krogh snored at him peacefully.

Ten

Krogh hadn't heard it, but that didn't mean Farrant hadn't said it. Had he really meant it? He woke in the pale pre-dawn, turned the proposition over and over in his head, could find nothing false about it. He glanced at Krogh, still asleep, but realised they had other, more important things to attend to first.

He went into the house, wary as ever for Dallow's lurking presence, ate sparsely and went up to the Smiths' room. Out of a vague sense of what felt correct, he searched through Mrs Smith's clothes and found a light, bluish dress that looked fairly formal, and put it on. It was his first time in a skirt or dress and the sensation was initially strange, but it soon became apparent it was considerably more comfortable than a shirt and heavy trousers. He wrapped his hair in a silky scarf and decided Miss Scobie would not have found him unpresentable.

And then the three of them wrapped Miss Scobie's body in her bedclothes and laid her in the grave they had dug. While they were doing it, they were suddenly aware they were not alone - silently coming through the trees, there was Centime, and Lucien, and the maids and the cook, all the old lady's servants had somehow heard. Suddenly it was a ceremony, and Farrant felt a desperate need to do or say something that would make it truly feel like one. As usual, Krogh stepped up and took responsibility. He grabbed a handful of the red soil and scattered it down onto the slight shape in its shroud. 'Miss Scobie was kind and generous to us. She made us welcome in her house and did everything she could to keep us safe.'

Querry took his own pinch of soil, threw it down. 'She was a great old lady,' he said.

It was Farrant's turn. He struggled to find something which wouldn't sound trite. 'She was our friend,' he eventually whispered.

Then the others took their turn, murmuring in French or the local language, until it was done. Querry and Krogh set to filling in the grave properly before they were swallowed by the heat of the day, and Farrant started walking back to the house. He was suddenly dimly aware he was not alone - found the maids and the cook trailing him.

'Is there something wrong?'

'Mr Canaan came to the village, said you and the men would need looking after, same as Miss Scobie, perhaps,' one of the girls said.

'Er - yes, that would be good. Thank you,' Farrant said.

The women beamed at each other and went into the house, and it was only later that Farrant realised it was hardly a humanitarian gesture; it was their living, after all. He himself realised that he had something to do if he was really to feel comfortable in the house. He went up to Miss Scobie's room. She had had surprisingly few personal possessions and not many clothes, but it still took him quite a while to put them all away in the ancient trunk he found in her wardrobe. Maybe it was callous to do this with her not yet buried, but sentiment was a distant thing, part of the other world. He kept the thought in mind, cleared the Smiths' room as well, keeping only those clothes of Mrs Smith's he thought he might possibly wear. It didn't leave him much and he was surprised to find himself idly wondering where he could find more in this area.

He lay down on Miss Scobie's bed as the heat mounted. Dimly he could hear the servants but there was no other movement in the house. With all her things gone, the room looked fresh and blank, but houses never seemed to completely forget, Farrant thought. Or perhaps that was just his imagination. In some way, for him this would always be her house - he supposed that for her it had always at least in some way been her parents' house. Did it really matter? Could you measure memory or sentiment, weigh it, use it to stay alive? He couldn't think how, but the idea that this made it somehow completely immaterial still disturbed him.

Farrant woke with a start, found the day's heat had abated somewhat. He still felt thirsty. He went downstairs and found Krogh and Querry just finishing a meal.

'Any sign of Dallow?' It was becoming a ritual question. Querry shook his head.

'We should probably tell the staff to be careful around him,' Krogh said. A moment's silence. 'You've had Miss Scobie's things and the Smiths' put in one of the outhouses.'

Farrant nodded. 'Yes I did. It wasn't going to achieve anything just leaving them there, was it?'

Krogh did not disagree. Owen said, 'We found the drinks cabinet broken into. He must've done it while we were outside this morning.'

'Did he leave anything?'

'Dallow never struck me as a man in control of his appetites,' Krogh said. 'No, it was empty.'

The thought of the man lumbering around outside somewhere, half-crazed with alcohol, was not a comfortable one. 'What are we going to do about him?'

Krogh shrugged. 'I'll try to talk to him, but I'm not inclined to go looking now. Let him stew for a while.'

'You sure that's safe?'

'He can't have an unlimited supply of liquor,' Krogh said.

'And if something happens to him in the meantime?' Querry asked.

'He beat you unconscious. You know what he tried to do to John. He made no attempt to help when the bandits came here. Do you really care what happens to him?'

'Krogh, he's one of us...'

'Your definition is more generous than mine, then,' Krogh said.

Querry gave a vague shrug. 'I'll see you later,' he said, got up, left them there alone.

Krogh looked at Farrant with one of his thin smiles. 'Do you think I'm being too harsh on Dallow?'

'Do you think I'm being too harsh about Miss Scobie and the Smiths?'

He nodded. 'I think we understand each other, then.'

This was the moment, Farrant realised, or the beginning of it. 'Let's go outside. Go for a walk,' he said, trying to keep the urgency from his voice.

'Any particular reason?'

'Just to look over our new kingdom,' Farrant said, standing up and smoothing down his dress.

'Maybe best not to get too proprietorial,' Krogh said, but he stood as well.

They went out into the trees. Farrant could sense Krogh's curiosity, but he was obviously not going to force the issue. 'I understand now what you meant when you asked me to be rational.'

'I don't know. Maybe I can be too cold sometimes,' Krogh said.

'I want to do a deal with you. A rational deal,' Farrant said. 'I - here and now, life isn't about emotion, or history, or what's polite, just what's - life's just about staying alive, staying safe... Krogh, I want to be your woman, if you'll have me. If you take care of me - I'll do my best to make you happy.'

Krogh walked slowly towards him. Farrant dropped his arms to his sides, forced himself not to step backwards. Then Krogh's hands were at his waist, and he lifted his chin to accept Krogh's kiss. It was hard and serious like Krogh himself. Almost involuntarily he twined his arms around Krogh's neck and shoulders, until the Swede broke the kiss.

'Very well, I'll have you,' Krogh said, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

'Do you have a first name?'

'Erik,' said Krogh. His smile broadened but did not warm. 'Do you?'

'You - you can call me Joanna,' Farrant said.

'All right. Joanna.'

'Now kiss me again.'

The mood around the house was oddly subdued at dinner that night, but then Farrant supposed it was only to be expected. It was not saying too much to speak of darkness piling upon darkness when thinking of all that had happened there recently. He himself really had no reason to feel so assured, so secure, given he had yet to make it through the night to come. There was still no real sign of Dallow - where could the man be? What could he be doing, for that matter? It occurred to him he really should be thinking of other things. Krogh was inscrutable as ever, his feelings and expectations completely masked. But for all that... Farrant felt safer now.

'Chess?' Krogh asked after dinner, once Querry had said his goodnights.

'Is that what you really want to play?'

'Well - I would hate to appear presumptuous or demanding - '

'Erik, you don't have to worry about anything like that,' Farrant said, smiling. 'I know you well enough, I chose you anyway. We did a deal, remember? I expect to keep my end of it.'

Krogh nodded, stood up and took Farrant's hand. He led him into his room - their room, now, Farrant thought. He kicked off his shoes and unbelted his dress, slipped it off. He ran his hands through his hair, saw Krogh was looking at him with unmistakable appreciation.

'You too, Erik,' Farrant said gently.

Krogh nodded and started to unfasten his shirt. Farrant unhooked his bra and slipped it off, slid down his panties and sat on the edge of the bed. He had never felt so naked in his life before, so voluntarily exposed. He rolled onto the bed, lay down as Krogh finished undressing. He was already hard and Farrant smiled despite the ragged nervousness sawing away in his stomach. Krogh came to the bed, touched Farrant on the shoulder. 'You are trembling,' he said.

Farrant stroked his wrist, smiled. 'I'm not scared.' He parted his legs. 'I'm excited.'

Krogh's mouth came harshly down on his and he surrendered to it unreservedly, felt Krogh's hands drift across his body, the weight of the man settle on him, the first electric brush of genitals, the tempo between them building, and then he gasped and spasmed as Krogh was inside him, driving at him, an experience so intense and novel he struggled to assimilate the feeling, he heard himself groaning, moaning, until, until...

...oh...

And later they lay curled together, quiet, Krogh at least showing no sign of falling asleep on this occasion. 'I hope you feel you made a good deal,' Farrant whispered.

He felt a kiss planted precisely on the curve of neck into shoulder. 'Well, you must grant it's a seller's market,' Krogh murmured, but there was amusement in his voice. 'I have no complaints at this point.'

'I'm glad.'

And sleep crept up to and overtook them both as they lay there together.

Eleven

But it took a little longer for Farrant to fully adjust to his changed situation. He was Krogh's woman now... and absurd as that sentence was, his self-image had to adapt to it, given that in appearance, clothing and habits, John Farrant was little more than a ghost, almost wholly erased. While to begin with he was only Joanna when he and Krogh were being intimate together, their new intimacy rapidly seemed to bleed out into every aspect of their lives, until even Querry was routinely calling him Joanna, and he was replying to it, and to the servants he was 'madame'... until Joanna was no longer an affection, but simply who she was.

She felt slightly sorry for Owen Querry, isolated as he now was, palpably not sharing the same closeness of relationship that she and Krogh enjoyed. There had been no sign of Dallow for days. But, abruptly, news eventually came of the big man.

Shortly after breakfast nearly a week after they'd buried Miss Scobie, the alliance car appeared back on the driveway. As before, Canaan and his soldier companion emerged and made their greetings. They assembled again in the main room of the house. If the Africans were surprised to find Joanna there wearing a dress and with her hair loose, they did not show it.

'I should tell you the legal owner of this property has passed away,' Krogh said, before Canaan could say anything. 'We are really... well, squatting here. We have no right to the house.'

'I don't see that being a problem,' Canaan said. 'I suspect Miss Scobie died without leaving a will, and I doubt any legitimate heirs are even aware this property exists. In any case, as the intendent I can grant you the use of it for the time being.'

'Thank you,' Krogh said.

'All right,' Canaan said. 'I have a number of pieces of information for you. Firstly...' He looked slightly uncomfortable. 'Your companion, Dallow.'

'We have no affection for the man. You needn't worry about telling us bad news,' Krogh said.

'Ah.' The man's relief was obvious. 'He was, er, apprehended in a village near here two days ago. He was drunk and - ah - tried to assault one of the young women there. Not much more than a girl, really.'

'Bastard,' Joanna whispered, unable to stop herself. She felt Krogh's hand on hers, giving a gentle squeeze.

'He was held by the villagers until our forces took him into custody. This area is still under martial law, and given the nature of his offence, there's no question of his actions being overlooked -'

'Good,' Joanna said. 'He won't be brought back here?'

'No.'

'We're not materially involved in this at all?'

'No. I just thought you would want to know - '

'Thankyou for telling us. I don't think any of us particularly care what happens to him. He deserves whatever it is,' Krogh said. Even given what she'd heard concerning the draconian severity of law in the alliance's territory, Joanna found she didn't disagree in the slightest, though Owen looked a bit shocked. He would get over it, she thought.

'On a more positive note,' Canaan said. 'The situation in this country has now become sufficiently settled for us to offer you the chance of moving.'

'We can go home?' Querry's uncertainty of a moment ago was gone in the light of this news.

'We are still trying to normalise our relations with many other countries, so this may not be possible yet. But I am authorised to offer you the opportunity to live in one of our regional capitals, Yaoundé, a modern city with all that implies. It still has a small expatriate community who I'm sure would be very welcoming to you all.'

Querry looked hopefully at them. 'That sounds great,' he said.

Krogh was impassive. Joanna nodded. 'Thank you for the opportunity,' she said.

'How soon can we go?' Owen asked, looking ready to run out to his bungalow and start packing.

Canaan seemed amused by his enthusiasm. 'It'll take a few days to make the arrangements,' he said.

'Is there any other news?' Krogh asked.

'Yes, Mr Krogh, there is, but I thought it would be best if we spoke privately?'

Querry took the hint, nodded and went out. Joanna took Krogh's hand and settled back on the sofa next to him. 'I'd like to stay, if I may, Erik.'

Krogh seemed to accept that this was justified. 'You can speak freely in front of Joanna, Mr Canaan.'

'Well, my superiors have checked your credentials, Mr Krogh. You were not exaggerating.'

'It's not my style,' Krogh said mildly. 'And?'

'Our army needs training. Our defences need building. Much of this continent is still dark and godless. The alliance would like to offer you a position as an advisor to our armed forces with the effective rank of Colonel,' Canaan said.

'My compensation for my services?'

'Roughly in line with what we initially discussed,' Canaan said. 'You would be based in this region, at least part of the time. We would give you the legal rights to this property and pay your servants' wages in lieu of part of your fee.'

'That seems quite reasonable. I will need to see paperwork, hear from my banker, and so on,' Krogh said, smiling. 'When do I start?'

'You know how slowly things can move in this part of the world,' Canaan said. 'Relax for a few days, Mr Krogh - Colonel Krogh,' he corrected himself. 'I think my superiors will be keeping you very busy for a long time.'

'You got what you came for,' Joanna said, after the officials had gone. She kissed Krogh lightly on the cheek. 'Congratulations, Erik.'

'Thank you. Good news for all of us, though, surely?'

'Owen seems pleased enough. I don't think he's been comfortable here since Dallow...' She trailed off.

'I think it was partly our fault, my sweet,' Krogh said. 'But it's over now, anyway. You can -' He stopped abruptly.

Joanna smiled at him. 'Were you going to say, you can get on with your lives? My life is - ' she shook her head. 'I don't know.'

'Well, you can make a better life for yourself than here, perhaps,' Krogh said.

She sat back, sighed. Here, she knew who she was, knew who the people around her were. The prospect of travelling to an unknown city, with no idea of really what to expect... she felt the old twinge of nervousness in her stomach. 'Do you want me to go?'

'It's not my decision, is it?'

'Well, what would be your preference?' She looked at him seriously.

'I - ' He paused.

'Just say what you want. Don't worry about, I don't know, what you think I feel or want or need - '

'Are you saying you want to stay?'

'I don't know. I don't think I'd want to stay if you didn't want me here,' Joanna said. The naked emotion of the statement startled her, and it seemed to hang in the air between them.

Krogh stroked her face. 'I think we are just going round and round in circles with this conversation. One of us has to be the first to be honest about - ' He broke off.

'I didn't think you had feelings, only needs.' She felt impatience, anger flicker within her.

'You know that's not true.' Krogh looked irritable himself. 'Look, stay if you want to stay.'

'Ask me to stay,' Joanna whispered. 'So I know it's what you want.'

He stood up, walked to the window, hands in pockets. 'I thought this was to be a rational arrangement.' There was a tight edge of anger in his voice.

'I don't think men and women can be rational together,' Joanna said. She got up. 'Erik - '

But he shook his head sharply. She nodded and left him there.

Twelve

And now the atmosphere in the house was strained. Krogh was detached towards both her and Owen - the American seemed to understand something had happened between them, tried clumsily to make her feel better. Was her discomfort at the turn of events so obvious? Krogh was right, she thought, it had been a rational arrangement, nothing more. Was she so upset that he'd had no real attachment to her? Or was it because she'd allowed herself to grow so dependent on him?

'For what it's worth,' Querry said hesitantly, finding her sitting disconsolately in the courtyard one day, 'I don't think he's being reasonable.'

She looked at him. 'I'm sorry?'

'You shouldn't feel bad, Jo - Krogh's got no right expecting you to stay here with him, when - '

She closed her eyes, shook her head. 'Owen, that's not it. Look - I appreciate what you're trying to say, but... I don't want to talk about it, okay?'

Querry looked puzzled, but nodded and went away.

Joanna was back in the room she'd had as a man, of course - the strained coldness that existed between her and Krogh made their sharing a bed impossible. It looked as if their understanding had come to an end anyway. She wondered what life would be like in the old Cameroonian capital. Another complete change, but the prospect neither excited or scared her. It was the future, immaterial, and living in the now had become a habit. So why was she dwelling on the recent past so much? she wondered.

Canaan returned after only a couple of days to finalise the details of Querry and Joanna's departure. They would collected by land rover the next day, he announced, ferried to an airfield - maybe even the one they'd arrived at, weeks earlier, Joanna thought - and then flown even further south-east down to Yaoundé's own airport.

'Please be ready first thing,' Canaan said, doing a good impression of a holiday rep on this occasion. 'Do you have any questions?'

Querry shook his head, grinning, while Joanna forced a smile onto her face. The American went off to start packing in earnest, even though he had only one small backpack to prepare.

'There will be plenty of opportunity for you to buy appropriate female clothing in the city,' Canaan said encouragingly, clearly thinking this must have been troubling her.

'Thank you,' she murmured.

Krogh rapped a little self-consciously on the doorframe and came into the room. Canaan stood up, almost jumped to attention in fact.

'Colonel Krogh.'

'Mr Canaan.' Krogh hadn't even looked at her, she thought; the realisation was like a dull blade in her chest. 'I have a few small questions about the terms of our deal.'

I hope this one goes better for you than the last one, Joanna thought, as Krogh continued with a few minor queries about money and his exact place in the chain of command. Then he paused. 'I have one other request to make,' he said.

'Of course,' Canaan said.

'I would like Miss Farrant to remain here with me,' Krogh said. He turned and looked at Joanna. 'Always providing she is willing to, of course...'

Joanna found herself physically unable to speak, tiny astonished happy noises emerging randomly from the back of her throat as she boggled at Krogh. He smiled at the sight of her.

'I... yes, of course. Yes!' she eventually managed to get out.

Canaan, however, had a troubled look on his face when they both turned expectantly to him. 'That would be difficult to arrange,' he said.

'Why?' Krogh asked, though something in his tone suggested he at least suspected the answer.

'The law of the alliance is quite clear about unmarried men and women cohabiting together,' Canaan said, regretfully. 'In the case of visitors, such as you have been until this time, we have turned a blind eye... but Colonel, you will be an employee of the government, a significant figure... you must be, well, beyond the reproach of your men. I am sorry.'

Canaan seemed pleased to go, after that, promising to return at first light with the land rovers that would take them away.

Joanna put her arms around Krogh, kissed him. 'Thank you. Even if you did avoid asking me to my face.'

Krogh shrugged, put his arms around her. 'It's not easy for me.'

'I know.'

'And if I'd known the alliance would refuse... oh, we've wasted the last couple of days, my sweet. I'm sorry.'

She smiled, rested her head on his shoulder. 'Don't worry. We have plenty of time left, although I'm afraid my wedding dress may leave something to be desired.'

He stared down at her, his turn to be speechless. 'Are you serious?' he said in the end.

'It's just a piece of paper, just another necessary transaction,' Joanna said, smiling. 'It doesn't mean that we love each other - doesn't mean that we don't. But it does mean we can be together, and I think we've figured out that's what we want, isn't it?'

'You're right, of course. All right,' Krogh said. He looked at her and smiled a smile wider and warmer than was normal for him. 'My wife. I didn't come here looking for one - '

'Well, I certainly didn't come here expecting to find a husband,' Joanna said dryly.

He squeezed her. 'No regrets, though?'

She smiled. 'If you can tell me the weight of a regret, then I'll admit that the question's important,' she said.

They went with Querry as far as the village, then the young American, alone in the land rover but for the driver, disappeared out of sight. He'd promised to stay in touch - promised to contact Joanna's friends and family, too. She wondered what they would make of the news that John Farrant, the struggling London architect, was now Mrs Joanna Krogh, wife of a military advisor to the CAA army and mistress of her own estate in the African bush. Because she was. Thankfully the Church of the Soldiers of God did not go for overly long or complicated ceremonies, and they managed to get it pared down still further, to the bare essentials.

Canaan's driver took them back to the house - back home. Krogh had already had Dallow's possessions disposed of, and they moved into the main bedroom that night, commemorating the occasion in an appropriate style - several times, in fact. And as she lay in her husband's arms, Joanna Krogh wondered which was the real world, the world of power after all - the realm of flesh, the rational, physical, immediate world she'd thought she'd adapted to living, or the other world, the one she thought she'd left behind, where people were in the sway of immaterial, unquantifiable things. She couldn't tell, for all that she was still here, the two of them finding themselves connected by something invisible, untouchable, immeasurable - but also, it seemed, unbreakable. Maybe there was only really one world after all, and the fault lay inside people.

And in a day or two Erik went away to begin his work for the army. He assured her his absences, though frequent, would usually be short. Joanna hoped so - she wasn't sure exactly how much fonder her heart could possibly grow of him. But she knew one thing was certain, as she set to shaping her house and servants to suit her wishes - and that was that however long he was away and wherever he went, when he returned he would always find her there waiting for him.