Page 128 of Katabasis
Alice racked her mind for consolation, and couldn’t find it. In the whole of chthonic literature there was nothing on this fundamental problem, there were only varied and detailed accounts of never-ending despair. No one was much interested in how souls got out of Hell. She could only settle on Dante’s answer, the only possibility of salvation in the entireInferno. Only one being could harrow Hell. “Suppose you’re rescued by an act of divine grace.”
“Don’t be a cunt, Alice.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I wish I could give you an answer.”
“That’s all right,” said Gradus. “No one ever has.”
Alice watched his grayness undulating around the fire and wondered what it was like to exist so long that your practical identity was no longer hinged to a time or a place, but a question.
“So what are you going to do now?” Gradus asked.
“Oh.” She didn’t hesitate. She knew what she had been searching for. “I’m going to kill the Kripkes.”
They both looked to the cuckoo skull. All this time it had been blowing a low, constant coo; a signal carrying across dead air, alerting its creators to their spoils. Alice had not tried to destroy it. She had deliberately left it alone.
“It’ll take them a while,” said Gradus. “It always takes them a while. They don’t like coming this far down. But they will come.”
“How long do you think I have?”
“When did the trap spring?”
“Only a few hours ago.”
“They prefer the upper courts. Safer there. And they move over land; they never sail. So I’d say at least the night.”
“Good,” said Alice. “I have time to prepare.”
“Revenge?” asked Gradus.
No, she thought.More than that.
For the first time since she’d descended to this place she felt some clarity of purpose. She knew what she was meant to do. She could not change the past, could not take back her murder, could not keep wallowing in her guilt, could not bring Peter back. But she could make her death mean something—she might dosomethingto end this terrible cycle, and even if this ended with her bloodless on the silt, that might be enough.
“I’m going to scour Hell,” she declared.
“My, my,” said Gradus. “Aren’t you confident.”
“The Kripkes have always done the hunting.” She felt a rush to her head as she said this. “They’ve never been hunted. They don’t know what they’re in for with me.”
It was the strangest thing. Here she was marching to her almost certain death, and it was the first time in a long time that she felt her life mattered. This urgency, this rush—like all of her, body and soul, was pointed like an arrow, taut with purpose. Something better than anger, despair, or vengeance. She could feel her heart beating, the blood coursing through her veins, from her heart to her fingertips, clenched tight around her blades. When she spilled it, it would matter.
How much time had she wasted wandering around in a fog? Looking back now it made her want to scream. No, she did not want to fade into those churning depths. Refused to petrify into comatose forest. She wanted to crash brilliantly against something, and when she went she wanted to leave a mark.
“One question, Gradus.”
“Yes?”
“Which way is the river?”
Gradus hmmed.
“Things get a lot more interesting if you show me to the river,” said Alice. “I’ve lost the way.”
“You’re not far.” Gradus drew an angle in the sand. “Straight from here. You will see hills; keep them on your right. Continue until you hear the waves. And you’ll need some protection. Something sturdier than that rucksack.”
Alice blinked down at the cat’s mangled corpse.
“Seems appropriate,” said Gradus.
