I walked the edge of the cliff and stood looking over the sea, a sea unmarred by toxic spillage, though it was not a peaceful shore. Too much had happened in this new land and my heart was turning to stone because of it. Insurrection in the Alpha Institute… petty squabbles among the Praetors and the Legate… a Choi and Constantine who professed to have been ever only angels… it made no sense. Constantine talked of curtains and dreams, killing kitten after kitten in his failed attempts to open a portal to who knows where.
It was all too much, too soon after the flight from the City. I had done much of late that shadowed my heart with regret. I could no longer depend on Nareth, for she was not herself. Whatever remained of Omega’s Chylde lay deep in the belly of a ghost, growing into some unknowable thing. Our attempts to restore her had failed. The moments of her passion had been followed by insufferable anguish for me, and Desdecardo had made it clear: there was no easy freedom from thralldom. I was not unaware of the distrust with which most of the Institute viewed me because of this. Thus, I did the only thing I could… I sought refuge in the Tree of the Garden until all my desire was replaced by life and fire. I felt my wings unfurl. I was thrall no more, but the cost was great.
Now an even greater weariness lay upon my shoulders, a weariness from which I could find no rest. I’d heard the reports from the City, read the letters… Grrbool was dead. A picture drawn in crayon from Brit seemed to say only that Grr and Omega had left the City for a while. Ethan, however, would have sheltered Brit as best he could. The news in the letters though... I couldn't believe the truth of it. Grr and Omega’s bodies had been found in the Great Library. Their remains had been burned and carried away from the City.
Denenthorn hadn’t even wept.
Yet I still hear Grr’s cry to the moon.
He’s not dead.
He can’t be.
Showing posts with label Nareth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nareth. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
In a Field of Stone
I stood in the doorway of the Haven, allowing my eyes adjust to the dim light and looking for the familiar face of my Beloved. He stood behind the glassed booth, moving in time to the pulsing beat of the music he played, his hands at the decks. He looked so different to me. His long red hair cascaded down his shoulders and his very human looking face was turned to a battered iPod. His eyes, though, were the eyes of a feral creature.
Grr looked up! “Spirit Gal!” he smiled, beckoning me closer. I stepped into the booth beside him and as I came nearer, his eyes narrowed with concern as he studied me. “Are you doin’ ok, Spirit Gal?”
I nodded, though I was acutely aware of his gaze on my puffed and bruised lips.
Grr frowned, stepped and stepped back from the deck to inspect my face. “That wasn’t there when ya spoke with Her Ladyship… you been chasin’ cars and catchin’ them?” he asked gently.
My fingers went to my mouth. “No, Beloved... Mr. Constantine... wished to show me something.” I felt embarrassed by my weakness.
Grr narrowed his eyes and lifted his lips in a distinctly canine baring of teeth, regardless of his human looking form. I moved closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and moving under the shadow of his arm.
Grr pulled me toward him. “If he wants ta tech ya somethin’ again, let me know, ok?
“Yes... yes... Beloved,” I replied, leaning my head into the side of his chest.
“I don’t abide tha beatin’ on tha weak,” Grr frowned.
I looked up at him. “He didn't hit me.... He was…” I trailed off.
Grr cupped my chin and tilted my head toward him. “Trainin' accident? Doorknob jumped up at ya?”
I fumbled for words. “He was trying to show me something…. “
“And yer face got busted?” Grr asked. “Or did you take tha wound from someone else, pranic?”
I shook my head for I’d healed no one. “He held my arm behind my back... and when he became displeased... he pushed me away... I fell with the force of it.”
Grr’s hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. “And he was restrainin' you fer his own safety?”
“No.... “ I looked away. “It was because I didn’t see… the difference between art and garbage.”
“Uh huh,” Grr grimaced. “Art lesson from an angel. A violent angel. And people call me a beast. I'll never understand Fleshie culture….”
“Please don't lecture me, Beloved,” I pleaded, “Please just... hold me.”
Grr lifted his hand under my chin again and drew me back toward him. “Can I tend yer face, Spirit Gal?”
I nodded mutely.
Grr let go of me and began rummaging in his pouch, letting it glow for some time, and withdrawing his hand. In his hand was a small jar, and a cloth. He dabbed the cloth in the ointment and applied it carefully to my broken and swollen lip. “This will be numbin’,” he murmured soothingly. “I ain’t even begun a lecture, Spirit Gal, I'm just assessin' tha situation.”
I held quite still as he finished dabbing the ointment, replaced the lid and then handed it to me, closing my fingers over the small jar. “Calendula cream, it'll fix it up in a day, faster at yer healin’ rates, I expect. Nareth won’t even notice by tomorrow, I expect.”
I took the little jar and dropped it into my pocket. I was thankful, and yet a lump had risen in my throat at Grr’s mention of Nareth. He turned to look at smile at sadly. Lifted my hand to his shoulder, taking a strand of his hair and twisting it around my fingertip, uncertain at the sadness on his face. He looked deep into my eyes.
“I want ya to be happy, Beloved… and safe.” Grr draped an arm around me, holding me close to him, protectively. I leaned into him again, relishing his human touch, and the feeling of being held tenderly.
He cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly. “Yer gunna leave, aintcha? strike out on yer own, or with Nareth?”
I felt the tears welling in my eyes. “I can't just let her go... But I can't leave you either, Beloved. I’d perish,” I said quietly.
Grr nodded slowly. “No lectures… I meant what I said, still do.”
“You'll think it strange,” I tried to explain, “But... somehow I feel I have to look after her... though there are two Gardens of entirely different sorts between us.”
“No, not strange at all, Spirit Gal,” Grr replied tenderly. “I’ll probably understand better than most.”
I gazed into his eyes. “You do?” I asked quietly.
“I think I might. I live in two worlds. Spirit Gal, in two skins, in two worlds. I live alone from my own kind. I’m not human, Spirit Gal, I never was. I see all this, with different eyes. My instincts, my values, they ain’t tha same as yers, as hers, even Her ladyship’s….”
I nodded slowly. “I’m not human, either.”
“No, I guess not,” he smiled, “But, well, I think ya got a better handle on it, so, that difference, it frees ya…”
“I will always be yours, Beloved.” I squeezed his smooth hand. “So soft.”
He, in turn, just held me. “Be safe, Spirit Gal… be safe.”
Grr looked up! “Spirit Gal!” he smiled, beckoning me closer. I stepped into the booth beside him and as I came nearer, his eyes narrowed with concern as he studied me. “Are you doin’ ok, Spirit Gal?”
I nodded, though I was acutely aware of his gaze on my puffed and bruised lips.
Grr frowned, stepped and stepped back from the deck to inspect my face. “That wasn’t there when ya spoke with Her Ladyship… you been chasin’ cars and catchin’ them?” he asked gently.
My fingers went to my mouth. “No, Beloved... Mr. Constantine... wished to show me something.” I felt embarrassed by my weakness.
Grr narrowed his eyes and lifted his lips in a distinctly canine baring of teeth, regardless of his human looking form. I moved closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and moving under the shadow of his arm.
Grr pulled me toward him. “If he wants ta tech ya somethin’ again, let me know, ok?
“Yes... yes... Beloved,” I replied, leaning my head into the side of his chest.
“I don’t abide tha beatin’ on tha weak,” Grr frowned.
I looked up at him. “He didn't hit me.... He was…” I trailed off.
Grr cupped my chin and tilted my head toward him. “Trainin' accident? Doorknob jumped up at ya?”
I fumbled for words. “He was trying to show me something…. “
“And yer face got busted?” Grr asked. “Or did you take tha wound from someone else, pranic?”
I shook my head for I’d healed no one. “He held my arm behind my back... and when he became displeased... he pushed me away... I fell with the force of it.”
Grr’s hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. “And he was restrainin' you fer his own safety?”
“No.... “ I looked away. “It was because I didn’t see… the difference between art and garbage.”
“Uh huh,” Grr grimaced. “Art lesson from an angel. A violent angel. And people call me a beast. I'll never understand Fleshie culture….”
“Please don't lecture me, Beloved,” I pleaded, “Please just... hold me.”
Grr lifted his hand under my chin again and drew me back toward him. “Can I tend yer face, Spirit Gal?”
I nodded mutely.
Grr let go of me and began rummaging in his pouch, letting it glow for some time, and withdrawing his hand. In his hand was a small jar, and a cloth. He dabbed the cloth in the ointment and applied it carefully to my broken and swollen lip. “This will be numbin’,” he murmured soothingly. “I ain’t even begun a lecture, Spirit Gal, I'm just assessin' tha situation.”
I held quite still as he finished dabbing the ointment, replaced the lid and then handed it to me, closing my fingers over the small jar. “Calendula cream, it'll fix it up in a day, faster at yer healin’ rates, I expect. Nareth won’t even notice by tomorrow, I expect.”
I took the little jar and dropped it into my pocket. I was thankful, and yet a lump had risen in my throat at Grr’s mention of Nareth. He turned to look at smile at sadly. Lifted my hand to his shoulder, taking a strand of his hair and twisting it around my fingertip, uncertain at the sadness on his face. He looked deep into my eyes.
“I want ya to be happy, Beloved… and safe.” Grr draped an arm around me, holding me close to him, protectively. I leaned into him again, relishing his human touch, and the feeling of being held tenderly.
He cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly. “Yer gunna leave, aintcha? strike out on yer own, or with Nareth?”
I felt the tears welling in my eyes. “I can't just let her go... But I can't leave you either, Beloved. I’d perish,” I said quietly.
Grr nodded slowly. “No lectures… I meant what I said, still do.”
“You'll think it strange,” I tried to explain, “But... somehow I feel I have to look after her... though there are two Gardens of entirely different sorts between us.”
“No, not strange at all, Spirit Gal,” Grr replied tenderly. “I’ll probably understand better than most.”
I gazed into his eyes. “You do?” I asked quietly.
“I think I might. I live in two worlds. Spirit Gal, in two skins, in two worlds. I live alone from my own kind. I’m not human, Spirit Gal, I never was. I see all this, with different eyes. My instincts, my values, they ain’t tha same as yers, as hers, even Her ladyship’s….”
I nodded slowly. “I’m not human, either.”
“No, I guess not,” he smiled, “But, well, I think ya got a better handle on it, so, that difference, it frees ya…”
“I will always be yours, Beloved.” I squeezed his smooth hand. “So soft.”
He, in turn, just held me. “Be safe, Spirit Gal… be safe.”
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Decisions
The low murmur of conversation continued below me as the members of my House gathered around the Lady Omega. Denenthorn had gone to stand on the balcony above us, keeping watch over the street, as was his habit, while the angel, Constantine, appeared to be examining a text pulled from the stacks only a few feet from where I stood. The Lady’s words echoed in my mind, and my heart was torn. I couldn’t leave… I couldn’t stay. I was so lost in thought that I didn’t notice when Choi climbed the stairs to stand quietly beside me. Her ears twitched as she leaned forward and whispered, “Are you all right?”
“No,” I replied quietly. “Nothing is right....”
The feline swallowed slowly, then reached into her pocket and pulled something out, hiding it from everyone's view but mine.
The blood tear pendant.
A soft sigh escaped my lips and I lifted my hand to touch it. It was a message. She was safe then. Nareth… safe among the Righteous. I found it nearly impossible to believe that she had sought sanctuary within the confines of the Church, but she had. Choi held the proof in her hands.
Abruptly, Constantine, moved closer to us, speaking in a tight voice. “Choi, your help in the matter has been noted. You need to speak with the Master Librarian, and Joah and I have matters to discuss.” He didn’t quite push us apart, but his nearness ended any hope I had of more news of Nareth from Choi. And I was wary of Choi speaking with Denenthorn. He was displeased and angry at Nareth’s insubordination. Displeased and coming for her. I glanced up the stairwell, hoping he hadn’t heard the conversation below. As far as I was concerned, Denenthorn was the last person that I wanted Choi to see.
Choi simply ignored Mr. Constantine for a moment, smiling at me gently, reassuringly, and closing her hand around the pendant, then putting it back in her pocket. She turned toward the angel. “My apologies, Constantine,” she said without a trace of sincerity in her voice, “But I believe that chore is for my 'betters'.”
I dropped my hand to my side and faced the angel. “I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr. Constantine.” The memory of the his attempts to bend me to his will was raw and bitter. He spoke in riddles and his help always came with a high price.
Constantine seemed to grow larger before us. “Nice way to back out, Choi,” he said sarcastically. “And you, Joah,” he said in a voice brimming with anger, “You don't care about your friend.”
I shook my head. “I care... I care deeply.”
“There are things that neither you nor the Church knows that are critical to your friend's survival,” Constantine said evenly.
Choi hissed at him, her tail flicking wildly. “What could you possibly do to help? All you've done so far is accuse her of lying.”
I nodded, watching the angel carefully.
We were interrupted by the Lamia, Kryss, who had slithered up the stairs, watching the scene before her quietly. She looked from Choi to Constantine. “Both of you should know this is not the time for this. She is hurting enough already....”
Constantine turned to regard Kryss. “Pain means the muscles are actually working… she's been resting too long.”
The Lamia frowned, and she moved toward Constantine with a hint of threat in her posture. “As much as I appreciate your lessons, here is one for you: compassion.”
A flash of light pulsed from the angel as he gave me an angry look, turned, and strode out of the Library without a word.
“No,” I replied quietly. “Nothing is right....”
The feline swallowed slowly, then reached into her pocket and pulled something out, hiding it from everyone's view but mine.
The blood tear pendant.
A soft sigh escaped my lips and I lifted my hand to touch it. It was a message. She was safe then. Nareth… safe among the Righteous. I found it nearly impossible to believe that she had sought sanctuary within the confines of the Church, but she had. Choi held the proof in her hands.
Abruptly, Constantine, moved closer to us, speaking in a tight voice. “Choi, your help in the matter has been noted. You need to speak with the Master Librarian, and Joah and I have matters to discuss.” He didn’t quite push us apart, but his nearness ended any hope I had of more news of Nareth from Choi. And I was wary of Choi speaking with Denenthorn. He was displeased and angry at Nareth’s insubordination. Displeased and coming for her. I glanced up the stairwell, hoping he hadn’t heard the conversation below. As far as I was concerned, Denenthorn was the last person that I wanted Choi to see.
Choi simply ignored Mr. Constantine for a moment, smiling at me gently, reassuringly, and closing her hand around the pendant, then putting it back in her pocket. She turned toward the angel. “My apologies, Constantine,” she said without a trace of sincerity in her voice, “But I believe that chore is for my 'betters'.”
I dropped my hand to my side and faced the angel. “I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr. Constantine.” The memory of the his attempts to bend me to his will was raw and bitter. He spoke in riddles and his help always came with a high price.
Constantine seemed to grow larger before us. “Nice way to back out, Choi,” he said sarcastically. “And you, Joah,” he said in a voice brimming with anger, “You don't care about your friend.”
I shook my head. “I care... I care deeply.”
“There are things that neither you nor the Church knows that are critical to your friend's survival,” Constantine said evenly.
Choi hissed at him, her tail flicking wildly. “What could you possibly do to help? All you've done so far is accuse her of lying.”
I nodded, watching the angel carefully.
We were interrupted by the Lamia, Kryss, who had slithered up the stairs, watching the scene before her quietly. She looked from Choi to Constantine. “Both of you should know this is not the time for this. She is hurting enough already....”
Constantine turned to regard Kryss. “Pain means the muscles are actually working… she's been resting too long.”
The Lamia frowned, and she moved toward Constantine with a hint of threat in her posture. “As much as I appreciate your lessons, here is one for you: compassion.”
A flash of light pulsed from the angel as he gave me an angry look, turned, and strode out of the Library without a word.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Fealty
It was evening in the Library and I stood quietly on the landing, watching those gathered by the fire. The Lady sat in her accustomed place by the hearth while Denenthorn stood tall and dark by her side. Grrbrool knelt at her feet, firelight shimmering in through his long, red hair. The sight of him in his flesh form never failed to surprise and arrest me. Attie and Redd chatted playfully, whispering into each other’s ears and laughing, while others read or bent towards their work. Dryl seemed dazzled by the gathering, wisping from one small group to another after her fashion. Such companionable gatherings had been common once, but the recent troubles in the City had set everyone on edge.
Grr looked up at me, smiling a human yet distinctly canine grin, and then he called my name, “Spirit Gal”, his true name for me. I smiled back at him, whispering, “Beloved,” but my eyes were drawn from him to Omega, and when my eyes met hers, I lowered my head, afraid to look.
The tension in the Institute had been almost unbearable of late. At the coming of the entity proclaiming to be Cthulhu, many had fled. Nareth had disappeared into a chrysalis in the floor of the laboratory, cocooned beneath some pulsing wet membrane. We’d not known whether she was even alive, and when finally she emerged, she sprang not from the chrysalis but from the sea, proclaiming the true Father Dagon and Mother Hydra. And with that proclamation, a rift had torn fabric of the Institute: Mother Hydra, not Sire Omega.
Grr caught the exchange between the Lady and me, gave me a long glance, and then turned toward Omega. Omega simply stood and began walking in my direction. “Joah?”
“Yes, Lady?”
“I would speak with you.” Omega continued up the stairs to the landing, stopping just in front of me. She extended her hands towards me and began to stroke my arm. “I have been worried for you, M'dear...” I could see Grr rise and follow the Lady with some caution, remaining a few steps behind. “Very worried indeed. We fret for you.”
I nodded, listening, but otherwise stood very still. "Why Lady?"
The taffeta of Omega’s skirts rustled as she turned slightly to look out the window for a moment, considering her words “There are those… who crave freedom. That to whom the idea is restriction is abhorrent.”
“I don’t understand, Lady,” I replied.
“Oh, I think you do,” Omega said, arching one brow slightly, “Because you understand, that there are those… to whom freedom itself is abhorrent.” As Omega spoke, Denenthorn walked wordlessly to stand by her side. He looked down at me, his blue eye leading the purple, gazing impassively in silence.
I frowned and lowered my head again. “Lady... we all serve Your will."
Omega slid her hand down my harm until it gripped my wrist. She leaned in, her lips close to my ear. “There are those… who can only feel free within boundaries gifted to them by another....”
I struggled against the impulse to pull away, my heart beginning to pound as Omega’s hand tightened slightly until I winced in pain.
“If one of that kind, is left neglectfully to roam,” Omega continued, “She will seek bonds, needfully... seek them where she may.”
I began to tremble.
Omega leaned in and whispered, her lips brushing my ear. “I know who is at fault here. I know what has occurred, and why.”
I twisted my head away looking to Grr for help, but though I knew he felt my discomfort, he did nothing. He stood Watching. Dryl hovered, fidgeting nervously. Denenthorn’s face was unreadable. I tried to pull my wrist away from Omega. "I don't know what you mean, Lady," I replied.
Omega grip on my wrist remained firm, but not crushing, and was no longer painful. She lifted her other hand to trace the side of my face with her fingertips. “I ask your forgiveness,” she whispered.
At this, I began to cry. "Your forgiveness? How have You wronged me, Lady?"
“I have neglected you,” Omega replied, “And it has lead you into peril. I would not see you neglected, Joah. I would see you cherished. Not held as thrall, but beloved.”
My tears began to flow freely for Omega had reached the heart of the matter. In the end, what was I to Nareth but her thrall? I had never thought to place myself willingly in such a situation, but Nareth’s lost vulnerability, her attempts to do what was right…I had fallen into compassion for her, all traces of my angry suspicion evaporating the night Pontifex had nearly severed her head from her body. And she had called me lover….
I brushed back tears as Omega took her hand from my wrist, and put her palms together, flat, lifting them up as though holding something. As she lifted, she opened her hands slightly. The shimmering image of an adornment floated between her palms. An adornment worn only by Denenthorn and Grrbrool.
“There is much I could offer you, Joah,” Omega said gently, “Out of our love. Our care for you. GrrBrool, Denenthorn and I… we wish no harm to come to you.” Soft and kind laughter came from Denenthorn’s lips at her words. Grr closed his eyes and looked slightly away, rubbing his face, so none could see.
"I don't deserve this, Lady," I said thickly.
Omega’s hands became fists and dropped to her sides. “You do not deserve peril, Joah. You do not deserve thralldom.”
"But I love her," I said softly.
Omega continued to gaze intently at me, speaking in the merest of whispers... “None loved her more than I.”
“She... disowned You, Lady,” I said sadly, “For another Mother.”
Omega nodded. “Her decision has given me grief I will carry till I am ash… But I would not add to these losses. I would not lose that which it would break me to abandon. You, my sweet Joah, I love more.”
I wept in frustration. "I cannot... Lady... I am... bound," I finally stammered, words choked by the anguish welling within me.
“What is bound can become unbound, if you wish it, Joah.” Omega gave the hint of a smile. “My blood is the stronger.”
My fingers moved distractedly to my waist, fingering by habit the silver chain and flask that were no longer there.
Omega watched the trace of my hand. “And her blood,” she said pointedly, “Is a dilution, merely a dilution....” She looked into my eyes. “Please. Consider my words. I will be waiting for your answer.”
The Lady smiled, and then affectionately reached to brush away a strand of Denenthorn’s hair, before turning and walking away.
Grr looked up at me, smiling a human yet distinctly canine grin, and then he called my name, “Spirit Gal”, his true name for me. I smiled back at him, whispering, “Beloved,” but my eyes were drawn from him to Omega, and when my eyes met hers, I lowered my head, afraid to look.
The tension in the Institute had been almost unbearable of late. At the coming of the entity proclaiming to be Cthulhu, many had fled. Nareth had disappeared into a chrysalis in the floor of the laboratory, cocooned beneath some pulsing wet membrane. We’d not known whether she was even alive, and when finally she emerged, she sprang not from the chrysalis but from the sea, proclaiming the true Father Dagon and Mother Hydra. And with that proclamation, a rift had torn fabric of the Institute: Mother Hydra, not Sire Omega.
Grr caught the exchange between the Lady and me, gave me a long glance, and then turned toward Omega. Omega simply stood and began walking in my direction. “Joah?”
“Yes, Lady?”
“I would speak with you.” Omega continued up the stairs to the landing, stopping just in front of me. She extended her hands towards me and began to stroke my arm. “I have been worried for you, M'dear...” I could see Grr rise and follow the Lady with some caution, remaining a few steps behind. “Very worried indeed. We fret for you.”
I nodded, listening, but otherwise stood very still. "Why Lady?"
The taffeta of Omega’s skirts rustled as she turned slightly to look out the window for a moment, considering her words “There are those… who crave freedom. That to whom the idea is restriction is abhorrent.”
“I don’t understand, Lady,” I replied.
“Oh, I think you do,” Omega said, arching one brow slightly, “Because you understand, that there are those… to whom freedom itself is abhorrent.” As Omega spoke, Denenthorn walked wordlessly to stand by her side. He looked down at me, his blue eye leading the purple, gazing impassively in silence.
I frowned and lowered my head again. “Lady... we all serve Your will."
Omega slid her hand down my harm until it gripped my wrist. She leaned in, her lips close to my ear. “There are those… who can only feel free within boundaries gifted to them by another....”
I struggled against the impulse to pull away, my heart beginning to pound as Omega’s hand tightened slightly until I winced in pain.
“If one of that kind, is left neglectfully to roam,” Omega continued, “She will seek bonds, needfully... seek them where she may.”
I began to tremble.
Omega leaned in and whispered, her lips brushing my ear. “I know who is at fault here. I know what has occurred, and why.”
I twisted my head away looking to Grr for help, but though I knew he felt my discomfort, he did nothing. He stood Watching. Dryl hovered, fidgeting nervously. Denenthorn’s face was unreadable. I tried to pull my wrist away from Omega. "I don't know what you mean, Lady," I replied.
Omega grip on my wrist remained firm, but not crushing, and was no longer painful. She lifted her other hand to trace the side of my face with her fingertips. “I ask your forgiveness,” she whispered.
At this, I began to cry. "Your forgiveness? How have You wronged me, Lady?"
“I have neglected you,” Omega replied, “And it has lead you into peril. I would not see you neglected, Joah. I would see you cherished. Not held as thrall, but beloved.”
My tears began to flow freely for Omega had reached the heart of the matter. In the end, what was I to Nareth but her thrall? I had never thought to place myself willingly in such a situation, but Nareth’s lost vulnerability, her attempts to do what was right…I had fallen into compassion for her, all traces of my angry suspicion evaporating the night Pontifex had nearly severed her head from her body. And she had called me lover….
I brushed back tears as Omega took her hand from my wrist, and put her palms together, flat, lifting them up as though holding something. As she lifted, she opened her hands slightly. The shimmering image of an adornment floated between her palms. An adornment worn only by Denenthorn and Grrbrool.
“There is much I could offer you, Joah,” Omega said gently, “Out of our love. Our care for you. GrrBrool, Denenthorn and I… we wish no harm to come to you.” Soft and kind laughter came from Denenthorn’s lips at her words. Grr closed his eyes and looked slightly away, rubbing his face, so none could see.
"I don't deserve this, Lady," I said thickly.
Omega’s hands became fists and dropped to her sides. “You do not deserve peril, Joah. You do not deserve thralldom.”
"But I love her," I said softly.
Omega continued to gaze intently at me, speaking in the merest of whispers... “None loved her more than I.”
“She... disowned You, Lady,” I said sadly, “For another Mother.”
Omega nodded. “Her decision has given me grief I will carry till I am ash… But I would not add to these losses. I would not lose that which it would break me to abandon. You, my sweet Joah, I love more.”
I wept in frustration. "I cannot... Lady... I am... bound," I finally stammered, words choked by the anguish welling within me.
“What is bound can become unbound, if you wish it, Joah.” Omega gave the hint of a smile. “My blood is the stronger.”
My fingers moved distractedly to my waist, fingering by habit the silver chain and flask that were no longer there.
Omega watched the trace of my hand. “And her blood,” she said pointedly, “Is a dilution, merely a dilution....” She looked into my eyes. “Please. Consider my words. I will be waiting for your answer.”
The Lady smiled, and then affectionately reached to brush away a strand of Denenthorn’s hair, before turning and walking away.
Abjuration
Dear Joah,
My situation with the Omega Institute has become untenable. Indeed, I now have the clarity to see that it was my great mistake returning to the OI, that day you found me at the hospital. Effective, immediately, I am tendering my resignation with the OI. I can no longer believe in, nor serve, nor defend, an organization that is so riddled with corruption and deceit.
I am whole, and I see this now.
I am whole, and I hereby renounce all ties to my Sire. No longer will I be known as the blood Chylde of Omega. I now serve another mistress, an infinitely greater being, and one who is not fickle and who took the time to properly mentor me. And, though not affectionate, Mother Hydra is just. I am reborn, from the benthic chrysalis that lay so long in the library basement. Never again will Omega punish me for her failings as my blood mother.
I am now whole. Sariel's seed has bloomed, during my time in the halls of Y'ha-rthyneil. The Watchmaker has no hold on me. I will never again serve as a portal.
As you are now bound to me, and as I depend upon you for sustenance, you know that I need you with me. However, I am granting you the ability to make that decision for yourself. I have been forced down too many paths to now force you.
I have taken with me certain files, and deleted the electronic copies of those files, specifically all those pertaining to OI Case No. 80501 and to the matter of the false priests recently masquerading as servents of "Dagon." This is my concern, and nothing for the OI to worry itself with. Morever, I have managed to wrest from the Old Woman that shard of identity she recently stole from me while I assisted in the healing of the incubus. The Countess Báthory Erzsébet is once again within me. A shame about the damage to the library, but it's nothing a good carpenter can't fix. However, I have left the Old Woman hungry.
Praetor, I will now entrust this letter to your capable hands. You will know how to reach me, should you wish.
N
My situation with the Omega Institute has become untenable. Indeed, I now have the clarity to see that it was my great mistake returning to the OI, that day you found me at the hospital. Effective, immediately, I am tendering my resignation with the OI. I can no longer believe in, nor serve, nor defend, an organization that is so riddled with corruption and deceit.
I am whole, and I see this now.
I am whole, and I hereby renounce all ties to my Sire. No longer will I be known as the blood Chylde of Omega. I now serve another mistress, an infinitely greater being, and one who is not fickle and who took the time to properly mentor me. And, though not affectionate, Mother Hydra is just. I am reborn, from the benthic chrysalis that lay so long in the library basement. Never again will Omega punish me for her failings as my blood mother.
I am now whole. Sariel's seed has bloomed, during my time in the halls of Y'ha-rthyneil. The Watchmaker has no hold on me. I will never again serve as a portal.
As you are now bound to me, and as I depend upon you for sustenance, you know that I need you with me. However, I am granting you the ability to make that decision for yourself. I have been forced down too many paths to now force you.
I have taken with me certain files, and deleted the electronic copies of those files, specifically all those pertaining to OI Case No. 80501 and to the matter of the false priests recently masquerading as servents of "Dagon." This is my concern, and nothing for the OI to worry itself with. Morever, I have managed to wrest from the Old Woman that shard of identity she recently stole from me while I assisted in the healing of the incubus. The Countess Báthory Erzsébet is once again within me. A shame about the damage to the library, but it's nothing a good carpenter can't fix. However, I have left the Old Woman hungry.
Praetor, I will now entrust this letter to your capable hands. You will know how to reach me, should you wish.
N
Ondine
“Joah? Do you hear me?”
On the rocky point, Joah turns her head. "Nareth?" she asks in wonder, her voice floating away in the crash of the waves.
“Yes....
“I am awake.
“I am returned.
“I am... new.”
“Where are you?” Joah whispers.
“Near… I can see you all. I must rise slowly. I have been down so long.”
Joah closes her eyes, her thoughts drifting toward the deep. “We thought you... dead.”
“No... just dreaming.”
*****
I sat on the promontory near the Toxian shoreline at dusk. Clouds dotted the horizon as I watched the sun set through the haze that seems to hang forever over the City. I wrapped my arms around myself because the air was brisk and cold, although most of the snow in the City had melted. Here and there, an icy spot of shadows still held a crystalline drift. A short span away, two young girls stood near the surf, one brown skinned with chocolate eyes and hair, the other lighter skinned with eyes the color of sunflowers and black hair falling to her shoulders.
The brown girl seemed poorly dressed for a walk along the beach. She wore an old-fashioned black dress with a stiff white collar, all strangely formal and out of place. The girl with the sunflower eyes was rather less remarkable, dressed in a sweater, jeans, and sneakers. As I watched the pair, I thought it odd that any parent would bring a child into the City, much less allow two girls to wander freely through its hungry streets and toward the sea.
The black-haired girl stooped to pick up some half-buried sea glass and the girls examined it for a moment, standing just at the water’s edge where the brackish water licks unnoticed over their shoes. I watch the sea, and my thoughts wander to the events of the prior evening.
We had been out further along the promontory, when the air suddenly had filled with a high-pitched trilling sort of song. The sound had been beautiful, but almost painful to hear. I had heard her calling, drawing me along. Tonks, Constantine, Pen and Kryss had followed. Tonks watched the sea, her wings unfurling and feathers rustling in the night wind, her eyes scanning the surface and the depth of water. I stood beside her, feeling my hair whip about her head and peering into the deep. “The Siren...." I had asked, “Do you hear her?” Tonks had simply nodded, while Pen paced around her in circles, watching his angel more than the water, nervous about what was to come. Constantine and Kryss had stood in silent sentry.
A sudden movement drew my attention back to the pair nearby me as the yellow-eyed girl plucked the sea glass from the sand and threw it out into the water. She seemed agitated. She was talking talking loudly to the black-haired girl, who seemed nonplussed. “Who are Father Kraken and Mother Hydra supposed to be?”
“Mother Hydra and Father Kraken are the Pillars of the Sea,” the brown girl replied, “The Keepers of the Abyss, Mother and Father, destruction and conception and everything that lies anywhere in between. In the days of void and shadow, before the gods had grown weary of nothingness and pulled the land up from the sea….”
“I get the picture,” the black-haired girl said with annoyance. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
I watched the pair, carefully studying the brown girl who seemed to know so much of the deeps and the Ones who live there. She in turn studied the black-haired girl, finally shaking her head the way a teacher might shake his or her head if a student was being particularly dense.
“The Keepers have many names among the tribes of men,” the brown girl finally said. “Names are only tools….”
The Keepers.
I stared openly at the girls.
The evening before, Nareth had risen from the sea. I had thought her lost, yet she rose from the water, her hair streaming seaweed against scaled skin. Gill flaps had fluttered as she stood on the same shore. They had fluttered and then lain flat before melting into her.
She’d been reborn of Mother Hydra, consort of Dagon, whom the Old Ones name Cthulhu… or so she’d said after she’d regained the ability to speak, ejecting a gout of seawater and mucus from her mouth.
I tried to shake the cobwebs from my mind as I watched the girls, watched the surf, and drifted on the sea of my thoughts. The girl with the yellow eyes turned swiftly on the brown girl, her black hair lifted by the breeze.
“I wish you’d shut up and leave me alone,” she said as she began to cry. “Go away and never come back.” She pivoted, her sneakers making small wells in the sand, and before the brown girl could say or do anything, she strode away the beach, heading back toward the City.
The brown girl merely turned, looked knowingly at me, and smiled before walking on.
Quotes and paraphrases are from Daughter of Hounds, Chapter 5, by Caitlin R. Kiernan, c. 2007, used with permission of the author.
On the rocky point, Joah turns her head. "Nareth?" she asks in wonder, her voice floating away in the crash of the waves.
“Yes....
“I am awake.
“I am returned.
“I am... new.”
“Where are you?” Joah whispers.
“Near… I can see you all. I must rise slowly. I have been down so long.”
Joah closes her eyes, her thoughts drifting toward the deep. “We thought you... dead.”
“No... just dreaming.”
*****
I sat on the promontory near the Toxian shoreline at dusk. Clouds dotted the horizon as I watched the sun set through the haze that seems to hang forever over the City. I wrapped my arms around myself because the air was brisk and cold, although most of the snow in the City had melted. Here and there, an icy spot of shadows still held a crystalline drift. A short span away, two young girls stood near the surf, one brown skinned with chocolate eyes and hair, the other lighter skinned with eyes the color of sunflowers and black hair falling to her shoulders.
The brown girl seemed poorly dressed for a walk along the beach. She wore an old-fashioned black dress with a stiff white collar, all strangely formal and out of place. The girl with the sunflower eyes was rather less remarkable, dressed in a sweater, jeans, and sneakers. As I watched the pair, I thought it odd that any parent would bring a child into the City, much less allow two girls to wander freely through its hungry streets and toward the sea.
The black-haired girl stooped to pick up some half-buried sea glass and the girls examined it for a moment, standing just at the water’s edge where the brackish water licks unnoticed over their shoes. I watch the sea, and my thoughts wander to the events of the prior evening.
We had been out further along the promontory, when the air suddenly had filled with a high-pitched trilling sort of song. The sound had been beautiful, but almost painful to hear. I had heard her calling, drawing me along. Tonks, Constantine, Pen and Kryss had followed. Tonks watched the sea, her wings unfurling and feathers rustling in the night wind, her eyes scanning the surface and the depth of water. I stood beside her, feeling my hair whip about her head and peering into the deep. “The Siren...." I had asked, “Do you hear her?” Tonks had simply nodded, while Pen paced around her in circles, watching his angel more than the water, nervous about what was to come. Constantine and Kryss had stood in silent sentry.
A sudden movement drew my attention back to the pair nearby me as the yellow-eyed girl plucked the sea glass from the sand and threw it out into the water. She seemed agitated. She was talking talking loudly to the black-haired girl, who seemed nonplussed. “Who are Father Kraken and Mother Hydra supposed to be?”
“Mother Hydra and Father Kraken are the Pillars of the Sea,” the brown girl replied, “The Keepers of the Abyss, Mother and Father, destruction and conception and everything that lies anywhere in between. In the days of void and shadow, before the gods had grown weary of nothingness and pulled the land up from the sea….”
“I get the picture,” the black-haired girl said with annoyance. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
I watched the pair, carefully studying the brown girl who seemed to know so much of the deeps and the Ones who live there. She in turn studied the black-haired girl, finally shaking her head the way a teacher might shake his or her head if a student was being particularly dense.
“The Keepers have many names among the tribes of men,” the brown girl finally said. “Names are only tools….”
The Keepers.
I stared openly at the girls.
The evening before, Nareth had risen from the sea. I had thought her lost, yet she rose from the water, her hair streaming seaweed against scaled skin. Gill flaps had fluttered as she stood on the same shore. They had fluttered and then lain flat before melting into her.
She’d been reborn of Mother Hydra, consort of Dagon, whom the Old Ones name Cthulhu… or so she’d said after she’d regained the ability to speak, ejecting a gout of seawater and mucus from her mouth.
I tried to shake the cobwebs from my mind as I watched the girls, watched the surf, and drifted on the sea of my thoughts. The girl with the yellow eyes turned swiftly on the brown girl, her black hair lifted by the breeze.
“I wish you’d shut up and leave me alone,” she said as she began to cry. “Go away and never come back.” She pivoted, her sneakers making small wells in the sand, and before the brown girl could say or do anything, she strode away the beach, heading back toward the City.
The brown girl merely turned, looked knowingly at me, and smiled before walking on.
Quotes and paraphrases are from Daughter of Hounds, Chapter 5, by Caitlin R. Kiernan, c. 2007, used with permission of the author.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Sirenum Pocula
The waning Snow Moon casts a mere shimmer on the surface of the Toxian Sea. Joah stands quietly, water lapping her toes, as the remains of a winter storm casts waves upon the shore. The cold wind bites at her pale skin; the sleeveless muslin chemise she wears provides no protection against its salt sting.
Are you listening, Joah?
She shrugs the chemise from her shoulders, unmindful as it falls into the pull of the tide and is drawn, floating, from the shore. Stepping slowly and certainly, she walks into the icy waters, the cold of it all nearly taking her breath away. Briny fingers wrap calves, thighs and hips; still she walks, the waves pushing and pulling at her, drawing her in breast deep, until she stands swaying like a reed.
Joah closes her eyes, tastes the salt spray on her lips and sees legs that aren't her own, curled and sleeping in the cast-off husks of titanic mollusks extinct a hundred million years before the coming of man. She has closed her eyes on darkness, but when she opens them again it is to the selfsame darkness. In sleep there is the memory of light, and the promise of the phosphorescent glow of Y'ha-rthyneil, which still lies out before her.
Do you hear me?
She lifts her arms, gazing on them as they drift, marveling at the delicate bones in her wrists and graceful webbed fingers of another's hands. She grows hungry, but knows the sea will sustain her. Even as great, unseen leviathans have battened themselves for aeons, so she feeds on the eyeless things that creep across the silt and the blind fish. The blood is cold, not like the blood to which she has grown accustomed, but it is nourishing, nonetheless.
"I am become a pilgrim," she often thinks. "This is my Hajj." There are few conscious thoughts left to her mind here in the deep places, but this one, recurring, comforts her.
"You will be prepared," the sea whispers all about her. "You will be made whole, at last."
Joah….
She is in what oceanographers call the Sigsbee Deep now, that black abyssal Grand Canyon of the Gulf of Mexico. She follows the trough ever deeper, thousands of meters down, and down, and down. At the southern end of the Sigsbee lies a city of the Deep Ones, and it is there that Mother Hydra and the children of Cthulhu wait for her. The featureless plains of silt give way to hydrothermal vents and towering forests of giant tube worms, glistening brine pools and sprawling mounds of methane ice. These are, she knows, the borderlands, and so she has left the wilderness behind her.
Past a vale of cold seeps, and threading her way between the high sulfide chimneys of black smokers, she becomes aware, for the first time, of another mind brushing against her own. The one bound to her before her departure from the city and the world Above. And she stops drifting.
Joah?
Are you listening, Joah? Do you see?
When there is no answer, she moves on.
Beyond the black smokers, she glimpses something, not light, but a paler sort of blackness. And she knows it is her signpost, and some weight is lifted from off her mind that she was not even aware lay there.
The Undying Court is near.
Dream Sequence, C. Kiernan
Are you listening, Joah?
She shrugs the chemise from her shoulders, unmindful as it falls into the pull of the tide and is drawn, floating, from the shore. Stepping slowly and certainly, she walks into the icy waters, the cold of it all nearly taking her breath away. Briny fingers wrap calves, thighs and hips; still she walks, the waves pushing and pulling at her, drawing her in breast deep, until she stands swaying like a reed.
Joah closes her eyes, tastes the salt spray on her lips and sees legs that aren't her own, curled and sleeping in the cast-off husks of titanic mollusks extinct a hundred million years before the coming of man. She has closed her eyes on darkness, but when she opens them again it is to the selfsame darkness. In sleep there is the memory of light, and the promise of the phosphorescent glow of Y'ha-rthyneil, which still lies out before her.
Do you hear me?
She lifts her arms, gazing on them as they drift, marveling at the delicate bones in her wrists and graceful webbed fingers of another's hands. She grows hungry, but knows the sea will sustain her. Even as great, unseen leviathans have battened themselves for aeons, so she feeds on the eyeless things that creep across the silt and the blind fish. The blood is cold, not like the blood to which she has grown accustomed, but it is nourishing, nonetheless.
"I am become a pilgrim," she often thinks. "This is my Hajj." There are few conscious thoughts left to her mind here in the deep places, but this one, recurring, comforts her.
"You will be prepared," the sea whispers all about her. "You will be made whole, at last."
Joah….
She is in what oceanographers call the Sigsbee Deep now, that black abyssal Grand Canyon of the Gulf of Mexico. She follows the trough ever deeper, thousands of meters down, and down, and down. At the southern end of the Sigsbee lies a city of the Deep Ones, and it is there that Mother Hydra and the children of Cthulhu wait for her. The featureless plains of silt give way to hydrothermal vents and towering forests of giant tube worms, glistening brine pools and sprawling mounds of methane ice. These are, she knows, the borderlands, and so she has left the wilderness behind her.
Past a vale of cold seeps, and threading her way between the high sulfide chimneys of black smokers, she becomes aware, for the first time, of another mind brushing against her own. The one bound to her before her departure from the city and the world Above. And she stops drifting.
Joah?
Are you listening, Joah? Do you see?
When there is no answer, she moves on.
Beyond the black smokers, she glimpses something, not light, but a paler sort of blackness. And she knows it is her signpost, and some weight is lifted from off her mind that she was not even aware lay there.
The Undying Court is near.
Dream Sequence, C. Kiernan
Monday, February 16, 2009
On Seas Hideously Serene
Joah sits in utter stillness, head bent over a leather-bound journal. A nondescript volume, it lies on the table before her, its dark cover worn with age. Each brittle page is filled with neat, old-fashioned script, written in ink that has faded to brown over the years. The pages are covered with curious drawings, wine-fueled thoughts, and line after line of poetry. Here and there, there is a signature: Henri Le Rennet. Joah pulls the oil lamp nearer as her eyes are drawn to one particular page.
Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
She leans back in her wooden chair, placing one hand on the journal, the other over her closed eyes. Joah cannot forget the pull of the dream, the drifting down into darkness, utter inviolable darkness, though she could still see. She remembers the descent, and then there are the endless abyssal plains of gray silt and primal ooze and the pale brittlestars that creep across the mud. The featureless deserts of the Gulf, broken only occasionally by the wreckage of a sunken ship, a week old, or a thousand years old, or by the carcass of a whale, wreathed by the squirming bodies of the hagfish that will pick the bones clean. These are her only landmarks in a world devoid of landmarks.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
Joah’s hand grips the edges of the journal, her fingers nearly crumpling the page before her in her fist. Yet she cannot pull away. It is the end of the descent. And there is the cold, which is almost beyond bearing. But only almost. And there is the weight of all that water pressing down on her from above, from the sunlit surface. Joah knows well enough the burden should crush her. But it sits easily upon her barnacle-scabbed shoulders, and she carries it as easily as do the native anglerfish and all the other nameless and blind deep-sea things.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
She has made a choice. And she wears proudly the scars of the decision, and her mind is still filled with the song of Those Who Have Called. There is more delight in the song than the touch of any lover. More joy than in any kill she has ever made. More satiation than the blood of any being she has ever devoured. More release than she has received from even the most terrible pain.
She drifts, the sharp claws at the ends of her webbed toes digging furrows in the silt as the current bears her ahead, and the Song continues, so that she knows there is a destination.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
Dream Sequence, C. Kiernan
Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
She leans back in her wooden chair, placing one hand on the journal, the other over her closed eyes. Joah cannot forget the pull of the dream, the drifting down into darkness, utter inviolable darkness, though she could still see. She remembers the descent, and then there are the endless abyssal plains of gray silt and primal ooze and the pale brittlestars that creep across the mud. The featureless deserts of the Gulf, broken only occasionally by the wreckage of a sunken ship, a week old, or a thousand years old, or by the carcass of a whale, wreathed by the squirming bodies of the hagfish that will pick the bones clean. These are her only landmarks in a world devoid of landmarks.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
Joah’s hand grips the edges of the journal, her fingers nearly crumpling the page before her in her fist. Yet she cannot pull away. It is the end of the descent. And there is the cold, which is almost beyond bearing. But only almost. And there is the weight of all that water pressing down on her from above, from the sunlit surface. Joah knows well enough the burden should crush her. But it sits easily upon her barnacle-scabbed shoulders, and she carries it as easily as do the native anglerfish and all the other nameless and blind deep-sea things.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
She has made a choice. And she wears proudly the scars of the decision, and her mind is still filled with the song of Those Who Have Called. There is more delight in the song than the touch of any lover. More joy than in any kill she has ever made. More satiation than the blood of any being she has ever devoured. More release than she has received from even the most terrible pain.
She drifts, the sharp claws at the ends of her webbed toes digging furrows in the silt as the current bears her ahead, and the Song continues, so that she knows there is a destination.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
Dream Sequence, C. Kiernan
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
"From space, the world is blue."
I rose early and dressed. The moon was still up when I closed and locked the door to my little room, heading down the stairs to the hearth in the Library. Grrbrool crouched by the fire, its flames creating a halo behind him.
“Hello, Spirit Gal,” he grinned. “Rested and renewed? I kept tha…well, tha OTHER wolves from tha door.”
“Other wolves?” I laughed. I brushed my hair back over my shoulder, and went to his side, bending to kiss the top of his head.
Grr grinned again. “Keepin’ tha wolves from tha door, er, whilst ya slept. Watchin'.” I settled in beside him on the floor while he spoke. “I Watch, whilst ya sleep, I guard tha dark places whilst ya work… I am tha Watcher, tha Ferryman… tha Guide, but fer you, I just like ta Watch.” He leaned in and sniffed me all over, scenting me, and licking my hands.
“Beloved,” I smiled. I leaned back, enjoying the feel of his canine tongue against my skin, raising my hand to stroke the side of his face. “I had the strangest dream last night.” I bent my head to rub my cheek against his ruff, taking in the intense new scents that I slowly now was growing accustomed to.
“Dream?” Grr asked. “Was it a good dream? Or just strange?”
“It was... so vivid,” I replied. I pulled back slightly from him, my hand going to the silver flask held on its chain about my waist.
“Dream Walkin'? Was it like bein' -in- Dream? Or just a vivid dream?” Grr lowered his eyes to the flask and then touched it with one claw. “New power, new understandin’, can do things… not bad, but scary, if ya ain’t ready, or aware.”
I shook my head. “I was drifting... just ... drifting in a void of utter, perfect, boundless blue. It wasn't like being in Dream... but then again, it was... I mean... it was peaceful.”
“Floatin’ in tha sea? Or tha sky? Blue like that?”
I closed my eyes, remembering. “Shafts of light shone down on me from somewhere overhead.... more like the sea, I think. I could barely remember the surface... but I felt buoyed and surrounded... yet pulled deeper.” I smiled at him. “I wasn't afraid.”
Grr looked at me with a wary expression. “I like tha bay, but deep scares me if I can’t see bottom.”
“This was different, Grr,” I replied. “Deep, but... no fear. I felt myself descending willingly, settling with infinite slowness.” I laid one hand on his thigh and began stroking it absently. “You'd think I would have been afraid... but the pull... even when the light began to fade... I could feel the pressure of all the water around me, pressing me down... threatening to crush me from every imaginable point of contact, but…. “ I shook my head again. It puzzled me. “Somehow, Beloved, somehow I knew that wouldn't happen. That it wouldn’t be allowed to happen.”
“Ah.” Grr nodded as his eyes began to widen with understanding. “It is a vision from Nareth, maybe. She sleeps in tha deep.”
I glanced at the outer wall of the secret room behind the lab. “I'm not sure where she lies, anymore... nor with whom.” I felt a sudden, surprising stab of longing for Nareth. When I turned to look at Grr again, I could see in his face that he’d read me plainly.
I cleared my throat. “The thing is, Beloved... I knew I was safe.” I tried to meet his golden gaze.
“Do ya wanna go look over her restin’ spot?” Grr asked gently, laying one paw atop my hand. “I don’t mind. I keep ya both safe, when I can, when ya sleep.”
“Yes, please,” I whispered. With great warmth, Grr offered his paw to me. I took it in return and rose slowly, following him to the shelves that concealed the lab. I watched as he manipulated the books on the shelf randomly, opening the secret doorway. Hand in paw, we walked down the two stone steps into the darkness.
The stench was overpowering. As we drew nearer Nareth's resting place, the smell of rotting fish, a bone yard of crab skeletons, and the spray of turbid seawater assaulted us. Grr wrinkled his nose. “Fishy….”
We knelt on the floor beside the pit that was Nareth’s resting place. A dark, glistening membrane could be seen pulsing just beneath the surface of the hole.
“Beloved?”
“Mmm?” Grr murmured, swirling the water gently with a claw.
“I felt something... in my dream.” I grew quiet, lost in the memory of that place for a moment. When I looked up, I saw Grr studying me intently.
“You and Nareth,” Grr began hesitantly, “Yer bonded, aintcha? Tha smell… and taste….”
I had known this moment would come and I feared it. “Bonded,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “Yes.” My eyes spoke the question to him that I could not.
Grr nodded slowly and smiled faintly, a little softly sad. “By blood and Family, Sister-Lover. Kin, Pack, Blood.”
I lay one hand upon his chest. “But Beloved, I am bonded to you... always. Always.”
Grr took my hand and held it close. “I ain’t jealous or nothin’, just wanna make sure yer safe, and free ta be you, how ever ya need, or wanna, be.”
I reached up to hold his face lightly. “Once together,” I said quietly, then closed my eyes, drew near to him, and touched my forehead against his.
Grr bumped his forehead against mine and smiled in the gloom and reek. “Always together.”
I burrowed into him, laying my head on his chest and gazing at the hole, watching the membrane pulse in the darkness.
“Whatever path ya walk,” he said, claw tips tracing through my hair. “I meant that, I still do.”
*****
From below (a direction that seemed to the girl even more infinite than above), cold tendrils of blackness rose to embrace her. Her long, white hair drifted about her as eel-like shadows caressed her pale body. She knew she was welcomed there, called down, and all the fear and pain and rejection that haunted her above began to dissolve like salt in the sea.
Her lips were no longer red, but blue as the light began to fade, as the light shifted, as all red vanished from the world and from her mind. She began whispering wordless prayers to Mother Hydra and Father Kraken, to Dagon and Great Cthulhu and nameless beings from Paleozoic depths, to the Urdines, and to the Nereids...
In reply, a greeting chant rose from below...
"There gathered round her every goddess, every Nereid that was in the deep salt sea. Glauce was there and Thaleia and Cymodoce; Nesaea, Speio, Thoe and ox-eyed Halie; Cymothoe, Actaee and Limnoreia; Melite, Iaera, Amphithoe and Agaue; Doto, Proto, Pherusa and Dynamene; Dexamene, Amphinome and Callianeira; Doris, Panope and far-sung Galatea; Nemertes, Apseudes and Callianassa. Clymene came too, with Ianeira, Ianassa, Maera, Oreithuia, Amatheia of the lovely locks, and other Nereids of the salt sea depths."
The girl sank, answering.
Dream Sequence, C. Kiernan
“Hello, Spirit Gal,” he grinned. “Rested and renewed? I kept tha…well, tha OTHER wolves from tha door.”
“Other wolves?” I laughed. I brushed my hair back over my shoulder, and went to his side, bending to kiss the top of his head.
Grr grinned again. “Keepin’ tha wolves from tha door, er, whilst ya slept. Watchin'.” I settled in beside him on the floor while he spoke. “I Watch, whilst ya sleep, I guard tha dark places whilst ya work… I am tha Watcher, tha Ferryman… tha Guide, but fer you, I just like ta Watch.” He leaned in and sniffed me all over, scenting me, and licking my hands.
“Beloved,” I smiled. I leaned back, enjoying the feel of his canine tongue against my skin, raising my hand to stroke the side of his face. “I had the strangest dream last night.” I bent my head to rub my cheek against his ruff, taking in the intense new scents that I slowly now was growing accustomed to.
“Dream?” Grr asked. “Was it a good dream? Or just strange?”
“It was... so vivid,” I replied. I pulled back slightly from him, my hand going to the silver flask held on its chain about my waist.
“Dream Walkin'? Was it like bein' -in- Dream? Or just a vivid dream?” Grr lowered his eyes to the flask and then touched it with one claw. “New power, new understandin’, can do things… not bad, but scary, if ya ain’t ready, or aware.”
I shook my head. “I was drifting... just ... drifting in a void of utter, perfect, boundless blue. It wasn't like being in Dream... but then again, it was... I mean... it was peaceful.”
“Floatin’ in tha sea? Or tha sky? Blue like that?”
I closed my eyes, remembering. “Shafts of light shone down on me from somewhere overhead.... more like the sea, I think. I could barely remember the surface... but I felt buoyed and surrounded... yet pulled deeper.” I smiled at him. “I wasn't afraid.”
Grr looked at me with a wary expression. “I like tha bay, but deep scares me if I can’t see bottom.”
“This was different, Grr,” I replied. “Deep, but... no fear. I felt myself descending willingly, settling with infinite slowness.” I laid one hand on his thigh and began stroking it absently. “You'd think I would have been afraid... but the pull... even when the light began to fade... I could feel the pressure of all the water around me, pressing me down... threatening to crush me from every imaginable point of contact, but…. “ I shook my head again. It puzzled me. “Somehow, Beloved, somehow I knew that wouldn't happen. That it wouldn’t be allowed to happen.”
“Ah.” Grr nodded as his eyes began to widen with understanding. “It is a vision from Nareth, maybe. She sleeps in tha deep.”
I glanced at the outer wall of the secret room behind the lab. “I'm not sure where she lies, anymore... nor with whom.” I felt a sudden, surprising stab of longing for Nareth. When I turned to look at Grr again, I could see in his face that he’d read me plainly.
I cleared my throat. “The thing is, Beloved... I knew I was safe.” I tried to meet his golden gaze.
“Do ya wanna go look over her restin’ spot?” Grr asked gently, laying one paw atop my hand. “I don’t mind. I keep ya both safe, when I can, when ya sleep.”
“Yes, please,” I whispered. With great warmth, Grr offered his paw to me. I took it in return and rose slowly, following him to the shelves that concealed the lab. I watched as he manipulated the books on the shelf randomly, opening the secret doorway. Hand in paw, we walked down the two stone steps into the darkness.
The stench was overpowering. As we drew nearer Nareth's resting place, the smell of rotting fish, a bone yard of crab skeletons, and the spray of turbid seawater assaulted us. Grr wrinkled his nose. “Fishy….”
We knelt on the floor beside the pit that was Nareth’s resting place. A dark, glistening membrane could be seen pulsing just beneath the surface of the hole.
“Beloved?”
“Mmm?” Grr murmured, swirling the water gently with a claw.
“I felt something... in my dream.” I grew quiet, lost in the memory of that place for a moment. When I looked up, I saw Grr studying me intently.
“You and Nareth,” Grr began hesitantly, “Yer bonded, aintcha? Tha smell… and taste….”
I had known this moment would come and I feared it. “Bonded,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “Yes.” My eyes spoke the question to him that I could not.
Grr nodded slowly and smiled faintly, a little softly sad. “By blood and Family, Sister-Lover. Kin, Pack, Blood.”
I lay one hand upon his chest. “But Beloved, I am bonded to you... always. Always.”
Grr took my hand and held it close. “I ain’t jealous or nothin’, just wanna make sure yer safe, and free ta be you, how ever ya need, or wanna, be.”
I reached up to hold his face lightly. “Once together,” I said quietly, then closed my eyes, drew near to him, and touched my forehead against his.
Grr bumped his forehead against mine and smiled in the gloom and reek. “Always together.”
I burrowed into him, laying my head on his chest and gazing at the hole, watching the membrane pulse in the darkness.
“Whatever path ya walk,” he said, claw tips tracing through my hair. “I meant that, I still do.”
*****
From below (a direction that seemed to the girl even more infinite than above), cold tendrils of blackness rose to embrace her. Her long, white hair drifted about her as eel-like shadows caressed her pale body. She knew she was welcomed there, called down, and all the fear and pain and rejection that haunted her above began to dissolve like salt in the sea.
Her lips were no longer red, but blue as the light began to fade, as the light shifted, as all red vanished from the world and from her mind. She began whispering wordless prayers to Mother Hydra and Father Kraken, to Dagon and Great Cthulhu and nameless beings from Paleozoic depths, to the Urdines, and to the Nereids...
In reply, a greeting chant rose from below...
"There gathered round her every goddess, every Nereid that was in the deep salt sea. Glauce was there and Thaleia and Cymodoce; Nesaea, Speio, Thoe and ox-eyed Halie; Cymothoe, Actaee and Limnoreia; Melite, Iaera, Amphithoe and Agaue; Doto, Proto, Pherusa and Dynamene; Dexamene, Amphinome and Callianeira; Doris, Panope and far-sung Galatea; Nemertes, Apseudes and Callianassa. Clymene came too, with Ianeira, Ianassa, Maera, Oreithuia, Amatheia of the lovely locks, and other Nereids of the salt sea depths."
The girl sank, answering.
Dream Sequence, C. Kiernan
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
But Death Mars All, Which We Cannot Mend
“Larissa...she's gone…I cannot now find her.” Nareth sat gazing at the fire, a study in grief and loss, her back against a chair of Indian reed, her porcelain fingers resting on its wheels beside her. The drawing room of the Library was full; it’s hearth provided some comfort against the raging winter storm.
I rose from Grr’s arms, where he and I had settled, warm fur against flesh, upon one of the large brocade pillows that ringed the fireplace. Rhaven and Kryss read quietly, both pouring over open books in their laps. “She was never really in there, you know,” I said as I drew close and began rubbing Nareth's shoulder. "What's troubling you?"
“I don't know what I know, anymore, Joah. But...Dryl,” Nareth sighed. I could feel her shivering under my touch. Still cold, I thought. “Dryl gave me this blanket, but... I think no one else can see it.” Nareth pulled at something that wasn't there, wrapping it around her.
“The ghost girl?” asked Kryss, looking up from her book. She gazed at Nareth with unblinking, unclosing eyes.
Nareth nodded. “When I saw her...day before yesterday...there were parts of her...simply missing. Parts of Dryl...missing.” Grr listened, stirring slightly by the fire, and giving growls and yips in low tones to a strange lycan pup that had wandered in from the snow.
I began to work my thumbs in small deep circles between Nareth’s shoulder blades, intending to examine her wounds but hoping to touch the invisible covering. “Do you think the blanket is part of her?”
Grr quirked to attention. “Wha’? Wait? Missin’? Spook's got parts missin’?”
“I think it must be, Grr,” Nareth nodded. “She said...she had placed parts of herself into…me...the missing parts.” Nareth shivered again. “And...she made me sleep.” She shook her head, trying to clear it.
Grr looked slowly up at Nareth, his golden eyes unfocusing and looking Within. Grr, the Watcher. “When, yes, when she did,” he replied, “She…she bore your wounds, stigmata. She didn’t feel it, but I saw it in her, I saw you…in her….”
“We need to research her,” Rhaven spoke up. Her tone was harsh, her voice full of irritation. “Y’all don’t understand. She wants us to and what I just heard from y’all, we might be running out of time.”
“Rhaven...no one ever runs out…of time…time always keeps up.” Nareth gave a humorless laugh.
My fingertips moved up Nareth’s spine into the base of her head and then down to the small of her back, still seeking, as she leaned forward allowing access, her lips parting slightly. “Dryl may have placed herself within you, Nareth, to heal your injuries,” I said, remembering the night of Pontifex’s vicious attack. We had worked furiously over Nareth’s prone form as she lay dying in the street. I’d asked Dryl to touch her, to reach in, to try to repair the knife wound that had very nearly severed Nareth’s head from her body.
Kryss turned her head toward Rhaven. “What do you mean... out of time?”
Rhaven didn’t respond, but instead pointed to Grr as if he had proven her point. “You can speak in levels and planes that you know well.” She turned to Nareth, pushing aside philosophies for the time, her sense of urgency overwhelming her. “But I will be heard this time. She wants us to study her, to know her connection to us, to the Library, Herself.”
“Yup, Raven's Song, we have been studyin’ her, but do ya have a better way? Cause if ya do, it'd be welcome, too,” Grr replied diplomatically.
“She is in need...yes,” Nareth murmured. “She is so beautiful. And now…she is…in me.” Nareth look back at me and whispered, “Very small pieces. Quanta.”
I gazed at Nareth for a moment, pausing in my ministrations, before turning to face the dark witch in reply. “Dryl is a convocation of Spirits, Rhaven,” I said, “And while she is connected to the Old Woman in the Walls... she isn't Her.” I opened my hand to use the heel of my palm against Nareth’s hips when suddenly I felt it: a cold, moving blanket of something pulsing as though alive.
“Go deeper, Joah,” Rhaven insisted, her brows furrowing. “Pretty is pretty, but.... There’s more that she wants us to know. We need to look deeper.” Sighing heavily, Rhaven flopped back into her chair, her expression darkening as thick lashes shuttered her eyes.
Grr shook his head, golden fur glinting in the firelight. “Tha Library Spirit, came from elsewhere, tha Other. Dryl, she's made from tha bits and pieces of folks and critters that never made it over tha Wide River from tha Disaster.”
“Rhaven, we will not force anything from Dryl.” Nareth voice dropped an octave or two, becoming more commanding. “Not ever. She is precious.” She shuddered slightly and went back to watching the fire.
“Glad ta hear that sentiment, Nareth-Realmwalker,” Grr said as he refocused his eyes on Nareth-in-the-World. He nodded as if confirming something to himself. “I really bloody am.”
I continued to explore while listening, my fingers drifting to Nareth's sides and swimming through the cold wrapper, until I leaned over her, resting my chin on her shoulder and folded my arms lightly around her waist. She leaned back slightly, savoring my touch.
Rhaven suddenly opened her eyes, snapping her head up to look at Nareth full on and unflinching. “She asked Us to research,” the dark-skinned witch intoned, her voice growing harmonic. “It was her behest and you were there. You heard not what We have said. Listen beyond your own ears.” Rhaven’s eyes began to glow as the voice of Omen overtook her. “You think you speak what We know not?” Rhaven’s black curls shook in negative. “It was Her request and, as such, it should be honored... or We shall take it upon Ourselves.”
Nareth straightened in her chair and blinked, confused at what seemed like a sudden deluge of voices. “You think you could stand against me?” she warned. I unwrapped my arms and stood back.
“You would raise to me?” Rhaven replied in a multitude of layered voices.
Grr flattened his ears. “Godlings…everywhere, godlings,” he muttered.
“You'd be unwise to try that Rhaven,” I frowned, meeting Rhaven’s eyes before returning my focus to Nareth. “Besides...You may not have understood the question that Dryl truly asked.” I moved my hands up Nareth’s arms in deep strokes, then over her shoulders, ‘til my fingertips touched her collarbone. She shifted slightly in her chair, accommodating my examination.
“We do want to study tha Spook,” Grr placated. “But…she ain’t here.”
Rhaven turned her glowing gaze to Grr, her expression softening as her chin lifted proudly. She appeared unmoved in the least by any threat spoken or implied.
“Have all tha looks ya like, Omen,” Grr chided, “But we can’t study what we don’t have in front of us.”
Nareth seemed to drift into a world of her own. “I was in Dryl, and Dryl is in me,” she chanted, laughing again and closing her eyes.
I lowered my lids slightly and dreamed a shimmer of flame, which began to spread from my fingertips, pulsing from gold to pink, then purple and violet. I moved slightly to Nareth’s side, never lifting my touch. As I lay fingertips to breastbone, a comfortable warmth flowed from my hands. My eyes widened as a felt the draw of something familiar, yet something I could not yet discern. “I wonder....” I whispered.
“Ask it of her.” Rhaven responded in soft melody. She expects it. She wishes it. She has much to tell us but wishes us to look.”
I ignored Rhaven; my thoughts were no longer on Dryl. All my focus was on Nareth as she closed her eyes tightly, her shivering easing as warm hands touched cold skin. As she relaxed my palms began to tingle. Then the room seemed to shift, going in and out of phase, as my fingers began to move of their own accord, first hovering lightly upon Nareth’s chest, softy grazing her breast, and seeking her bodice just above her heart.
My whole body gave an involuntary jerk.
I rose from Grr’s arms, where he and I had settled, warm fur against flesh, upon one of the large brocade pillows that ringed the fireplace. Rhaven and Kryss read quietly, both pouring over open books in their laps. “She was never really in there, you know,” I said as I drew close and began rubbing Nareth's shoulder. "What's troubling you?"
“I don't know what I know, anymore, Joah. But...Dryl,” Nareth sighed. I could feel her shivering under my touch. Still cold, I thought. “Dryl gave me this blanket, but... I think no one else can see it.” Nareth pulled at something that wasn't there, wrapping it around her.
“The ghost girl?” asked Kryss, looking up from her book. She gazed at Nareth with unblinking, unclosing eyes.
Nareth nodded. “When I saw her...day before yesterday...there were parts of her...simply missing. Parts of Dryl...missing.” Grr listened, stirring slightly by the fire, and giving growls and yips in low tones to a strange lycan pup that had wandered in from the snow.
I began to work my thumbs in small deep circles between Nareth’s shoulder blades, intending to examine her wounds but hoping to touch the invisible covering. “Do you think the blanket is part of her?”
Grr quirked to attention. “Wha’? Wait? Missin’? Spook's got parts missin’?”
“I think it must be, Grr,” Nareth nodded. “She said...she had placed parts of herself into…me...the missing parts.” Nareth shivered again. “And...she made me sleep.” She shook her head, trying to clear it.
Grr looked slowly up at Nareth, his golden eyes unfocusing and looking Within. Grr, the Watcher. “When, yes, when she did,” he replied, “She…she bore your wounds, stigmata. She didn’t feel it, but I saw it in her, I saw you…in her….”
“We need to research her,” Rhaven spoke up. Her tone was harsh, her voice full of irritation. “Y’all don’t understand. She wants us to and what I just heard from y’all, we might be running out of time.”
“Rhaven...no one ever runs out…of time…time always keeps up.” Nareth gave a humorless laugh.
My fingertips moved up Nareth’s spine into the base of her head and then down to the small of her back, still seeking, as she leaned forward allowing access, her lips parting slightly. “Dryl may have placed herself within you, Nareth, to heal your injuries,” I said, remembering the night of Pontifex’s vicious attack. We had worked furiously over Nareth’s prone form as she lay dying in the street. I’d asked Dryl to touch her, to reach in, to try to repair the knife wound that had very nearly severed Nareth’s head from her body.
Kryss turned her head toward Rhaven. “What do you mean... out of time?”
Rhaven didn’t respond, but instead pointed to Grr as if he had proven her point. “You can speak in levels and planes that you know well.” She turned to Nareth, pushing aside philosophies for the time, her sense of urgency overwhelming her. “But I will be heard this time. She wants us to study her, to know her connection to us, to the Library, Herself.”
“Yup, Raven's Song, we have been studyin’ her, but do ya have a better way? Cause if ya do, it'd be welcome, too,” Grr replied diplomatically.
“She is in need...yes,” Nareth murmured. “She is so beautiful. And now…she is…in me.” Nareth look back at me and whispered, “Very small pieces. Quanta.”
I gazed at Nareth for a moment, pausing in my ministrations, before turning to face the dark witch in reply. “Dryl is a convocation of Spirits, Rhaven,” I said, “And while she is connected to the Old Woman in the Walls... she isn't Her.” I opened my hand to use the heel of my palm against Nareth’s hips when suddenly I felt it: a cold, moving blanket of something pulsing as though alive.
“Go deeper, Joah,” Rhaven insisted, her brows furrowing. “Pretty is pretty, but.... There’s more that she wants us to know. We need to look deeper.” Sighing heavily, Rhaven flopped back into her chair, her expression darkening as thick lashes shuttered her eyes.
Grr shook his head, golden fur glinting in the firelight. “Tha Library Spirit, came from elsewhere, tha Other. Dryl, she's made from tha bits and pieces of folks and critters that never made it over tha Wide River from tha Disaster.”
“Rhaven, we will not force anything from Dryl.” Nareth voice dropped an octave or two, becoming more commanding. “Not ever. She is precious.” She shuddered slightly and went back to watching the fire.
“Glad ta hear that sentiment, Nareth-Realmwalker,” Grr said as he refocused his eyes on Nareth-in-the-World. He nodded as if confirming something to himself. “I really bloody am.”
I continued to explore while listening, my fingers drifting to Nareth's sides and swimming through the cold wrapper, until I leaned over her, resting my chin on her shoulder and folded my arms lightly around her waist. She leaned back slightly, savoring my touch.
Rhaven suddenly opened her eyes, snapping her head up to look at Nareth full on and unflinching. “She asked Us to research,” the dark-skinned witch intoned, her voice growing harmonic. “It was her behest and you were there. You heard not what We have said. Listen beyond your own ears.” Rhaven’s eyes began to glow as the voice of Omen overtook her. “You think you speak what We know not?” Rhaven’s black curls shook in negative. “It was Her request and, as such, it should be honored... or We shall take it upon Ourselves.”
Nareth straightened in her chair and blinked, confused at what seemed like a sudden deluge of voices. “You think you could stand against me?” she warned. I unwrapped my arms and stood back.
“You would raise to me?” Rhaven replied in a multitude of layered voices.
Grr flattened his ears. “Godlings…everywhere, godlings,” he muttered.
“You'd be unwise to try that Rhaven,” I frowned, meeting Rhaven’s eyes before returning my focus to Nareth. “Besides...You may not have understood the question that Dryl truly asked.” I moved my hands up Nareth’s arms in deep strokes, then over her shoulders, ‘til my fingertips touched her collarbone. She shifted slightly in her chair, accommodating my examination.
“We do want to study tha Spook,” Grr placated. “But…she ain’t here.”
Rhaven turned her glowing gaze to Grr, her expression softening as her chin lifted proudly. She appeared unmoved in the least by any threat spoken or implied.
“Have all tha looks ya like, Omen,” Grr chided, “But we can’t study what we don’t have in front of us.”
Nareth seemed to drift into a world of her own. “I was in Dryl, and Dryl is in me,” she chanted, laughing again and closing her eyes.
I lowered my lids slightly and dreamed a shimmer of flame, which began to spread from my fingertips, pulsing from gold to pink, then purple and violet. I moved slightly to Nareth’s side, never lifting my touch. As I lay fingertips to breastbone, a comfortable warmth flowed from my hands. My eyes widened as a felt the draw of something familiar, yet something I could not yet discern. “I wonder....” I whispered.
“Ask it of her.” Rhaven responded in soft melody. She expects it. She wishes it. She has much to tell us but wishes us to look.”
I ignored Rhaven; my thoughts were no longer on Dryl. All my focus was on Nareth as she closed her eyes tightly, her shivering easing as warm hands touched cold skin. As she relaxed my palms began to tingle. Then the room seemed to shift, going in and out of phase, as my fingers began to move of their own accord, first hovering lightly upon Nareth’s chest, softy grazing her breast, and seeking her bodice just above her heart.
My whole body gave an involuntary jerk.
She Tears Herself
It’s my fault. Somehow, things have turned upside down. Rhaven and Nareth tried to heal Severus after he savaged himself. My fault, again. He wouldn’t have done so if I hadn’t encouraged Redd to touch him, to determine by his degree of revulsion and longing whether she had a soul. But touch she did and as a result he tore himself. I assented to his healing. Nareth, this Nareth-Not Nareth Chylde, asked permission. I told her yes, use the passion of Larissa. Take it from the flames. Lar had been able to heal Severus once before, working in tandem with Rhaven. I couldn’t leave him lying eviscerated on the Library floor.
The healing worked, or worked as well as it ever does given Severus’ perpetual wounds. But what remained of Larissa was lost forever. Completely destroyed. That passion had been all that remained of her mortal form, lingering where the wards once stood, in the flames of the hearth. When it was taken, the Old Woman in the Walls shook. She nearly tore the building apart, threatening all of us in her charge, until she took me through the flame, reached out and snatched the passion of one less gentle and loving from the mind of Nareth: the Countess Báthory. Erzsébet. Now I wonder what I have done. Where once the heart of the flame was Eros, it is now bloodlust. My fault.
It is a sad and bitter irony that now Severus is feeding, while I am not. He found a lycan, a willing one, and somehow the healing impelled him forward to a place where no amount of pleading on my part had been able to take him. I could have compelled him, but I would never have done so, so great is his self-loathing as an Incubus. But who will impel me? I’m bone weary and ravenous. I haven’t fed since the time of Pestilence and some avid spirit still stirs insatiate within me. I nearly killed Grr. I pulled from him to the point of blindness and hemorrhage. What if I do it again? The dark yet whispers to me and I hear the pan flute. Jack’s blade yet sings and its twin calls louder. I touch the stone of Eden in my pocket and wonder was I ever in the Garden?
The healing worked, or worked as well as it ever does given Severus’ perpetual wounds. But what remained of Larissa was lost forever. Completely destroyed. That passion had been all that remained of her mortal form, lingering where the wards once stood, in the flames of the hearth. When it was taken, the Old Woman in the Walls shook. She nearly tore the building apart, threatening all of us in her charge, until she took me through the flame, reached out and snatched the passion of one less gentle and loving from the mind of Nareth: the Countess Báthory. Erzsébet. Now I wonder what I have done. Where once the heart of the flame was Eros, it is now bloodlust. My fault.
It is a sad and bitter irony that now Severus is feeding, while I am not. He found a lycan, a willing one, and somehow the healing impelled him forward to a place where no amount of pleading on my part had been able to take him. I could have compelled him, but I would never have done so, so great is his self-loathing as an Incubus. But who will impel me? I’m bone weary and ravenous. I haven’t fed since the time of Pestilence and some avid spirit still stirs insatiate within me. I nearly killed Grr. I pulled from him to the point of blindness and hemorrhage. What if I do it again? The dark yet whispers to me and I hear the pan flute. Jack’s blade yet sings and its twin calls louder. I touch the stone of Eden in my pocket and wonder was I ever in the Garden?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
And this feende...was all redy, and lay by hir, while she was slepynge
How know you that your lover
Of death’s tideless waters stoops to drink?
Severus glared at Nareth as his clawed fingertips trailed along the cheek of the lycan woman he held tightly in one arm. “You hypocrite... it is fine for all of you to rut and smear yourselves all over this building as you please... but now you deny me this?” He growled low, curling his towering frame over the lycan woman, shifting against her sensuously, and savoring the pleasure that radiated from her due to his touch. He felt more than heard the snap, and then his powerful arms loosened, startled and scenting her.
"If we rut and tear ourselves, as you say, we do it by mutual consent. I cannot hold the Old Woman back, Severus, and she can kill us all.” Nareth placed her hand on Severus' chest again. “I will not see this happen....”
Me by night doth mouldy darkness cover,
It makes me quake to think:
She stood, improbably, leaning on a cane. “Joah, you need to release that bastard. If that's even possible. He is a threat to us all.”
“And what would happen if I did, Nareth? He would be without restraint.”
“It’s your call, Joah. Unless it becomes Omega’s.”
All night long I feel his presence hover
Thro’ the darkness black as ink.
“I spent two hours talking him down… so that he
wouldn't take a lycan woman here in the library.”
“Nareth, yer standin’, that’s good.”
“Yes... Grr. I am standing. Just barely....”
Without a voice he tells me
The wordless secrets of death’s deep:
“Grr... you, Lycan... tell me the nature of your kind's soul….” Severus uttered fixing Grr with his burning black eyes.
“Tha nature of our souls, Maker? Complex. Wild and free, eternally cyclin’ and tied to tha cycle of tha world…. ”
If I sleep, his trumpet voice compels me
To stalk forth in my sleep:
“I wish to know if the souls of your kin are born damned as some have said... if there is no redemption for them after tasting the blood of mortals... is this correct?” Severus asked, his eyes wild and desperate.
“Not as far as my own leanin’s go, no, that ain’t correct. Redemption is fer all who seek it, soul or no. I don’t believe, nor does my totem, that anythin is unchangeable. Nothin’ is born damned, that’s somethin’ that happens to ya, or ya do yerself and everythin’ – everythin’ – can Change its own destiny. Even you.”
If I wake he rides me like a nightmare;
I feel my hair stand up, my body creep:
“That is not... the answer I had hoped,” Severus ground out between clenched fangs, his every word a struggle, strangely accented and slipping towards the First language. “I will not damn another....”
Without light I see a blasting sight there,
See a secret I must keep.
A Coast-Nightmare, C. Rossetti
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Þe quene þat by þe stod, of loue teres heo weop a flod
Nareth had been standing in the open entryway to the Hospital when Severus and I had found her alone and looking out into the street with a disoriented frown. “I’ve only been gone an hour,” she said over and over again. “It wasn’t snowing….” She began questioning me as though she’d seen me scarce moments before. My shock at seeing her alive, as it were, made little impression in the swirl of confusion that surrounded her.
She’d wanted to return to the Library. Severus and I had walked with her, matching each long stride as her boots crunched through the ice in the frozen streets. She didn’t seem to know Severus. She didn’t seem to know about the changes in the City. And as we walked, she shivered. Nareth was… cold. “Impossible,” I thought to myself, “The undead don’t feel the sting of winter…. “
As we made our way the Library Nareth hesitated, surprised by the large Christmas wreath hanging on the Library’s door. After a moment, she entered and headed directly to the drawing room hearth. She fell straightaway into the armchair to the right of the fire. The myriad conversations surrounding us fell silent, as one by one eyes turned to Nareth, not believing what they were seeing. She was trembling. I’d never seen her tremble; she seemed almost vulnerable. But this couldn’t be, I kept telling myself.
“I was going to the Pit. I didn't go to the Pit.”
“You summoned Labyrinth, Nareth. You went.
“No….”
But she had gone, had been destroyed there, carved into pieces by Pontifex and fed to the Shadows by Lorne in her bid to summon Labyrinth. She didn’t believe it or wouldn’t. And frankly, I didn’t know what to make of this Nareth who was confounded, shaking and near tears. She wasn’t the brutal Nareth I’d known, nor was she the Golem or the small, Vietnamese thief tossed by the sea upon the City’s shore during a late-night torrential downpour.
Nareth murmured, “Something has gone very wrong, I think.”
“Yes, very wrong,” Pontifex replied. “What if the others come back too? We both went to the pit, only I came back.... “
An icy voice. “What is the meaning of this?”
And the Lady had been shocked. Angered. Then…if not accepting… somehow resolved. Lorne had prompted, “Look into her soul, Omega. If she still has it within her, that is one thing, and the nature of a soul to show what it is quite another.” The Lady couldn’t look. But Grrbrool could.
“Realmwalker,” he said, “Not tha Huntress.”
She went to the Pit; she didn’t go. She died there; she lived.
Nareth; not Nareth.
I just don’t know.
Nareth Returns
She’d wanted to return to the Library. Severus and I had walked with her, matching each long stride as her boots crunched through the ice in the frozen streets. She didn’t seem to know Severus. She didn’t seem to know about the changes in the City. And as we walked, she shivered. Nareth was… cold. “Impossible,” I thought to myself, “The undead don’t feel the sting of winter…. “
As we made our way the Library Nareth hesitated, surprised by the large Christmas wreath hanging on the Library’s door. After a moment, she entered and headed directly to the drawing room hearth. She fell straightaway into the armchair to the right of the fire. The myriad conversations surrounding us fell silent, as one by one eyes turned to Nareth, not believing what they were seeing. She was trembling. I’d never seen her tremble; she seemed almost vulnerable. But this couldn’t be, I kept telling myself.
“I was going to the Pit. I didn't go to the Pit.”
“You summoned Labyrinth, Nareth. You went.
“No….”
But she had gone, had been destroyed there, carved into pieces by Pontifex and fed to the Shadows by Lorne in her bid to summon Labyrinth. She didn’t believe it or wouldn’t. And frankly, I didn’t know what to make of this Nareth who was confounded, shaking and near tears. She wasn’t the brutal Nareth I’d known, nor was she the Golem or the small, Vietnamese thief tossed by the sea upon the City’s shore during a late-night torrential downpour.
Nareth murmured, “Something has gone very wrong, I think.”
“Yes, very wrong,” Pontifex replied. “What if the others come back too? We both went to the pit, only I came back.... “
An icy voice. “What is the meaning of this?”
And the Lady had been shocked. Angered. Then…if not accepting… somehow resolved. Lorne had prompted, “Look into her soul, Omega. If she still has it within her, that is one thing, and the nature of a soul to show what it is quite another.” The Lady couldn’t look. But Grrbrool could.
“Realmwalker,” he said, “Not tha Huntress.”
She went to the Pit; she didn’t go. She died there; she lived.
Nareth; not Nareth.
I just don’t know.
Nareth Returns
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Fini
They said the monk was dead. They didn’t know who or what he was really; they only said that a man with long, blondish hair wearing strange robes had been found on the beach beyond the seawall. He’d been face down in the sand. When the lycan who’d scented him had rolled him over, the expression frozen on the man’s face had been one of shock mingled with horror.
I sipped my tea, listening as the talk in the Haven continued. Who was he? Had anyone ever seen him around before? He didn’t look like a Righteous or a Shadow. His curious death had become a topic for early morning conversation over a bottle of beer or a full shot glass, the easy idle speculation of bored and hung over patrons.
But I had known the man. I’d known his purpose, if not his origins. Setting down my cup, I templed my fingers to my forehead in concentration, closing my eyes to think. I wondered if he had been successful in his quest. The monk had said he was on a pilgrimage. It was not, I discovered, a pilgrimage to a city or a country: it was, instead, a pilgrimage to Nareth—or rather, the young woman who called herself that. She was his holy place. He’d wanted to take her back with him to the island temple of his faith. He’d wanted to make her a god.
And then she was gone. Without a word or a message, she’d disappeared from the Library where she had taken refuge, slipping away unobserved. The identification card and the communication device I had taken from her were gone as well, spirited away from the locked chest in which I’d placed them. Not only was this future Nareth gone, but the golem Nareth had vanished, too.
“Tag,” Bella had said to me once. “It’s a game to her…making the other Nareths come unstuck in time.” Perhaps that is what had happened. Maybe it was tag. She’d succeeded and they had all gone….
After all, the monk was dead.
****
Off the coast of Cyprus there is an island. The night is balmy as warm breezes blow in from the sea, but in the seemingly endless subterranean passage the girl feels only a cool dampness against her skin. She hears the clicking and chittering of blind cave dwellers, and like them, she has no eyes to see: lidless sockets sit deep in her small, brown face. She turns her head slightly, listening to the sound of a pan flute in the distance….
The Marketplace
Deadweight
Satyr
I sipped my tea, listening as the talk in the Haven continued. Who was he? Had anyone ever seen him around before? He didn’t look like a Righteous or a Shadow. His curious death had become a topic for early morning conversation over a bottle of beer or a full shot glass, the easy idle speculation of bored and hung over patrons.
But I had known the man. I’d known his purpose, if not his origins. Setting down my cup, I templed my fingers to my forehead in concentration, closing my eyes to think. I wondered if he had been successful in his quest. The monk had said he was on a pilgrimage. It was not, I discovered, a pilgrimage to a city or a country: it was, instead, a pilgrimage to Nareth—or rather, the young woman who called herself that. She was his holy place. He’d wanted to take her back with him to the island temple of his faith. He’d wanted to make her a god.
And then she was gone. Without a word or a message, she’d disappeared from the Library where she had taken refuge, slipping away unobserved. The identification card and the communication device I had taken from her were gone as well, spirited away from the locked chest in which I’d placed them. Not only was this future Nareth gone, but the golem Nareth had vanished, too.
“Tag,” Bella had said to me once. “It’s a game to her…making the other Nareths come unstuck in time.” Perhaps that is what had happened. Maybe it was tag. She’d succeeded and they had all gone….
After all, the monk was dead.
****
Off the coast of Cyprus there is an island. The night is balmy as warm breezes blow in from the sea, but in the seemingly endless subterranean passage the girl feels only a cool dampness against her skin. She hears the clicking and chittering of blind cave dwellers, and like them, she has no eyes to see: lidless sockets sit deep in her small, brown face. She turns her head slightly, listening to the sound of a pan flute in the distance….
The Marketplace
Deadweight
Satyr
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Sariel and Raven
“After Nareth, it's real important we don’t lose another like that. Tha Huntress walked tha path on purpose. I can deal with that, as bitter tha thought is that I couldn’t bring her back,” Grr said seriously.
“I don't want to lose Abi, either,” I replied, “But she thinks she is a parasite…because of what I said to her.”
Grr seemed lost in thought. “In tha end, I saw it was her own path.” He wasn’t talking about Abi any more. He was reliving his failure to help Nareth. “If she had wanted ta Cross, I woulda taken her to tha Wide River, but, she peferred tha Nothin…and then, tha Boit, and then, more Nothin….I'd have carried her across, its an old duty, but, I woulda, ya both have ta believe me, if she had wanted ta Cross…”
Lorne Harlequin silently gazed at us, and then shook His head at Grr. “You’ll remember meeting the Raven once when We spoke. I understand.” I didn’t understand what they meant. Raven, the eater of the eyes of the dead, a Trickster who delights in tricking others into doing something for him they may not actually want to do, something that may cost them dearly. I couldn’t grasp what Raven had to do with GrrBrool.
“Exactly,” Grr said quietly. “But I got ta help tha passin, from It ta tha Bot, at least, ta make that end, so, that’s something….”
Lorne looked somehow profoundly tired, a slight hint of reverberance as He spoke in a voice that may as well have been made of sand and stone. “It's a cruel love to have, taking everyone you ever care for to...away.”
“Well, point is, Lorne, if tha Little One is stuck, and she don’t know she's stuck, because she's beatin her self up….”
Lorne continued to speaking, barely acknowledging Grr’s words, as if He were speaking through us, His words distant. "And you...who have not dispensation to go...She knows.” He paused for a moment, blinking out of His distance. “I can take you to her. Ties that bind, and all that,” He said with a defeated smile.
“You would take us to her?” I stammered.
“Though I would insist it wait for a window of receptivity,” Lorne nodded. “I can't imagine you would object.”
“I don't want to lose Abi, either,” I replied, “But she thinks she is a parasite…because of what I said to her.”
Grr seemed lost in thought. “In tha end, I saw it was her own path.” He wasn’t talking about Abi any more. He was reliving his failure to help Nareth. “If she had wanted ta Cross, I woulda taken her to tha Wide River, but, she peferred tha Nothin…and then, tha Boit, and then, more Nothin….I'd have carried her across, its an old duty, but, I woulda, ya both have ta believe me, if she had wanted ta Cross…”
Lorne Harlequin silently gazed at us, and then shook His head at Grr. “You’ll remember meeting the Raven once when We spoke. I understand.” I didn’t understand what they meant. Raven, the eater of the eyes of the dead, a Trickster who delights in tricking others into doing something for him they may not actually want to do, something that may cost them dearly. I couldn’t grasp what Raven had to do with GrrBrool.
“Exactly,” Grr said quietly. “But I got ta help tha passin, from It ta tha Bot, at least, ta make that end, so, that’s something….”
Lorne looked somehow profoundly tired, a slight hint of reverberance as He spoke in a voice that may as well have been made of sand and stone. “It's a cruel love to have, taking everyone you ever care for to...away.”
“Well, point is, Lorne, if tha Little One is stuck, and she don’t know she's stuck, because she's beatin her self up….”
Lorne continued to speaking, barely acknowledging Grr’s words, as if He were speaking through us, His words distant. "And you...who have not dispensation to go...She knows.” He paused for a moment, blinking out of His distance. “I can take you to her. Ties that bind, and all that,” He said with a defeated smile.
“You would take us to her?” I stammered.
“Though I would insist it wait for a window of receptivity,” Lorne nodded. “I can't imagine you would object.”
Saturday, September 20, 2008
My Darling Bella
June 25
My Darling Bella,
There is little time now, and I am expected. I would have you know that, in my way, I have cared much for you, though I know I am too poor instrument for the expression of compassion. You know that well enough, as you know that, in all the ages of my life, you are one of the few who has provided me with genuine companionship and in whom I have been able to confide. As the walls of my existence crumble and all my days and faces blur together, I will abide in you one last secret.
I have spoken to you of my games of "tag" plenty enough times, though I know the matter remains largely a mystery to you. I will speak this as plainly as I am able. I have forseen the hour of my undoing, and against that day have I placed a means that I might one day be returned to myself. A means by which the scattered pieces of my being may be reassembled, even when I seem completely beyond recall. When the first of these opportunities presents itself, I believe you will know her, if only by the name we share. She will no doubt speak of her meeting with me, which, of course, was but a meeting with herself.
Many things are hidden to me. But I know that any of those I have touched, any of those displaced in my passing, may serve as the vessel of my rebirth. Only that part of me held by Lorne cannot be easily enough regained. And I may have no true need of that sliver.
Guard the sigil, and the child of Larissa, the phial of blood I have given you, and everything else I have entrusted to you. My Sire may or may not desire my true resurrection. If she does, she and the OI will be a great aid. If not, you must find some other path and not hesitate to follow it.
All is not lost, even knowing the storm that approaches me. I may yet be far more than those who designed me intended, and, also far less. I desire to be no mere gate for the trespass of gods, no machine, and I have seen worlds where I am a mortal woman. From one of these templates might I be rebuilt and my mind restored. She will come to you. I will come to you.
There is no time left to me. The Pit is waiting, and work. I do not regret, for I am not able, but even now I feel your absence.
In Time,
Nareth
My Darling Bella,
There is little time now, and I am expected. I would have you know that, in my way, I have cared much for you, though I know I am too poor instrument for the expression of compassion. You know that well enough, as you know that, in all the ages of my life, you are one of the few who has provided me with genuine companionship and in whom I have been able to confide. As the walls of my existence crumble and all my days and faces blur together, I will abide in you one last secret.
I have spoken to you of my games of "tag" plenty enough times, though I know the matter remains largely a mystery to you. I will speak this as plainly as I am able. I have forseen the hour of my undoing, and against that day have I placed a means that I might one day be returned to myself. A means by which the scattered pieces of my being may be reassembled, even when I seem completely beyond recall. When the first of these opportunities presents itself, I believe you will know her, if only by the name we share. She will no doubt speak of her meeting with me, which, of course, was but a meeting with herself.
Many things are hidden to me. But I know that any of those I have touched, any of those displaced in my passing, may serve as the vessel of my rebirth. Only that part of me held by Lorne cannot be easily enough regained. And I may have no true need of that sliver.
Guard the sigil, and the child of Larissa, the phial of blood I have given you, and everything else I have entrusted to you. My Sire may or may not desire my true resurrection. If she does, she and the OI will be a great aid. If not, you must find some other path and not hesitate to follow it.
All is not lost, even knowing the storm that approaches me. I may yet be far more than those who designed me intended, and, also far less. I desire to be no mere gate for the trespass of gods, no machine, and I have seen worlds where I am a mortal woman. From one of these templates might I be rebuilt and my mind restored. She will come to you. I will come to you.
There is no time left to me. The Pit is waiting, and work. I do not regret, for I am not able, but even now I feel your absence.
In Time,
Nareth
Dearest Sire, My Lady Omega
Bellatrix walks quickly up the stairs from the Library foyer to Omega’s office, each step soundless and urgent. The massive door stands closed before her but she does not hesitate to breach its lock. Placing one hand above it, she takes a breath…and with a pop and click, the workings turn and the door opens. Straight past Omega’s desk she goes, to the mahogany secretary standing flush against the rear wall. She opens the lower desk, studying the arrangement of drawers, doors and slots within it. Her fingers glide over the locked prospect door, she taps…another click and the little door opens revealing two of valanced pigeonholes above a drawer. She slides the drawer open and lifts out a letter that is worn with reading and folded in half.
Dearest Sire, My Lady Omega,
Even now, I will not express sentiments that I do not feel. Not when writing to you of such grave matters. I was born into the Institute, and served it as a Ward, and in all my long years and travels, nowhere else has ever come this close to being home for me. There is much I still do not understand about my Nature, even after all my work with Pontifex. But I do know that I cannot serve you unless I am whole. Just as a weapon must not have free will, neither can it function when deprived of its essential mechanism. Lorne holds that now, and I must have it back. Without my vision, I am raveling, the paths of all my pasts and presents bleeding one into the other. I am in each instant now Nareth, Erzebet, Jack, Labyrinth, La Bête de Gevaudan, and a hundred other identities assumed or stolen in my former travels. Only by the greatest force of will can I focus to write this. For the second time, I go down to the Pit. I believe I shall not return, that I go to my final death, or something far worse. But I am helpless to do otherwise. I will be whole, or there is no reason for me to be. Perhaps there were other routes open to me in this pursuit, but it is my failing that has brought me here, so it must be my quest. If I fall, please be kind to Bellatrix, as she has served me well, and take care of young Abigel. I know you will remember me, so long as you exist, and, for that reason alone, I wish now I could feel simple regret, that my creators had so endowed me. I have left my armband on the table upstairs. I must close this now. I am expected.
Nareth
Dearest Sire, My Lady Omega,
Even now, I will not express sentiments that I do not feel. Not when writing to you of such grave matters. I was born into the Institute, and served it as a Ward, and in all my long years and travels, nowhere else has ever come this close to being home for me. There is much I still do not understand about my Nature, even after all my work with Pontifex. But I do know that I cannot serve you unless I am whole. Just as a weapon must not have free will, neither can it function when deprived of its essential mechanism. Lorne holds that now, and I must have it back. Without my vision, I am raveling, the paths of all my pasts and presents bleeding one into the other. I am in each instant now Nareth, Erzebet, Jack, Labyrinth, La Bête de Gevaudan, and a hundred other identities assumed or stolen in my former travels. Only by the greatest force of will can I focus to write this. For the second time, I go down to the Pit. I believe I shall not return, that I go to my final death, or something far worse. But I am helpless to do otherwise. I will be whole, or there is no reason for me to be. Perhaps there were other routes open to me in this pursuit, but it is my failing that has brought me here, so it must be my quest. If I fall, please be kind to Bellatrix, as she has served me well, and take care of young Abigel. I know you will remember me, so long as you exist, and, for that reason alone, I wish now I could feel simple regret, that my creators had so endowed me. I have left my armband on the table upstairs. I must close this now. I am expected.
Nareth
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tag
Bella coughed quietly into her hand. I looked up from my writing, surprised to see the dark-haired woman. Rainwater dripped from her clothing and pooled on the floor. She’d been gone for a while. I had thought, perhaps, she was dead or had left the City for good. “Good evening, Praetor. Things have changed while I was away.”
“Bella,” I smiled in greeting. “Yes, much has changed.” I gestured broadly around the room, my hand sweeping the circle of the Library’s recent renovations.
I watched as she took a deep breath. “She is…gone. We are alone.” Bella lowered her eyes. “I felt her...pass.”
“It is almost as though she never was,” I sighed, closing my tablet and laying down my pen. “There is no mention of her. No discussion. Pontifex has disappeared. Cerdwin is gone. Artemisia. As though they’d never existed.”
“All the dancers, I should think,” Bella murmured. “I almost didn't come back here myself. I suspected I was thought dead.”
I nodded. “I had thought you so, Bella. I didn't think your body could endure.”
Bella turned, walking to the windows, and gazing out into the night rain. “I awoke…on a boat. I suppose she left me there. I was very ill.
Maybe she thought I was dead. Maybe not.” She paused, breathing deeply and wrapping her arms around her chest. “You feel the absence of her, too?”
“You know I swore i would send her back, Bella. But…I never thought she would really go.”
“Was it you who did?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “As did Pontifex. And Omega. Others.”
Bella sighed quietly. “I did not know. I only felt her leave.” Bella turned to me, eyes full of sadness mixed with anger. “Who was that wreck of a vampire that was just here?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know, Bella. She sought refuge from the Lady Omega, and appears impossibly to be pregnant. She was going on and on about refusing to feed, filled with self-loathing of her own nature before she became frightened and fled.”
“The little coward.” A bitter smile crossed Bella’s face. “Nareth wouldn't give it to me. I asked...I asked repeatedly. Now...I'm not even a doll anymore.”
I looked at the floor, unable to meet her eyes, remembering the taste of Nareth’s blood in my own mouth. “Do you feel the desire still?”
Bella gave a harsh laugh and looked at her hands. “Perhaps we shouldn't discuss my desires.” I watched settle into one of the armchairs near the window and reach into her pocket, drawing out a straight razor. “I know that it has changed me, but I wanted that change. I wanted much more.”
I focused on the razor, my face impassive. Bella caught my eye. “Oh, it's not her razor. I have no idea what became of that.” Bella folded the razor open, staring at the blade.
“I…Labyrinth gave it to me,” I began. “It was hungry…it called to me...Nareth’s sigil. I…gave it to Pontifex the night we sent her back, to open the way.”
Bella nodded. “So, he took it when he left?”
“Yes,” I replied. “He took it. And he cut all the bindings from his hands and his arms. When he freed himself of Omega, he left.” I frowned, remembering. “But he gave the blade to Denenthorn who tries to master it, thus it bends him. I have told him he is a fool if he thinks he can.”
“I see,” Bella laughed, folding the razor closed. “So, it's still here. She put a great deal of herself into that blade.”
“And what have you put into yours, Bella?”
“Do you ask me that as my Praetor? Or as...someone who has tasted Nareth?”
I sighed. “I ask as someone who has walked through the void.”
Bellatrix nodded slowly. “I try to follow her example. Part of me can't accept that we lost them both. A god and...Nareth....”
“The stars were not…right, Bella. Perhaps not for Aunt Beast, nor Nareth. And yet…” I trailed off, unable to find the words to express the greatness of the loss and the problem of the brown girl from the beach. I could feel Bella watching me closely.
“And yet?”
It was my turn to stare blankly through the rain drizzled glass. “I went walking by the sea the other night,” I began. “I stopped at a small fire to warm my hands. There were two people there. One, a blondish man in some sort of religious garb. He said he had a boat not far from the shore. The other was a small, dark girl, drenched and shivering. She said she had walked from the sea.”
Bella shifted in her chair. “Walked...from…the sea?”
I nodded. “She was disoriented…she kept asking when she would awaken from the dream.”
“What was her name, Praetor?” Bella began biting at her lower lip.
“Her name is Nareth,” I replied.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a green button and a small plastic card. “This button…she said is a state identity card.” I held it up between thumb and forefinger, rubbing it a little. It began to flash and Bella sat up straighter. “It didn't work at first. But I was able to start it functioning again…the sea water, you see.”
“Praetor,” Bella turned to me. “What year? Past, or future? Future, I'm guessing.”
“Future,” I replied. “Perhaps…future. At least that's what the identification card said.”
“Tag,” Bella murmured. “That's what Nareth called it. Playing tag.” Bella frowned slightly, looking at the objects in my hand. “Yes. She told me, when we were at sea with Abigail. For a while, she amused herself…by tracking herself down. Before she was Omega's Chylde...she did it...I can't recall…ten or twenty times, she said.”
Bella stopped talking and began staring at me as I pinched the button into temporary lifelessness. “She…met herself in time?” I asked with wonder, but there was no disbelief in my voice. I dropped the button and the card back in my pocket.
“Repeatedly,” Bella replied. “She thought it was a sort of game.
Tag.”
“A doppelganger game of chase,” I mused. “But to what end?”
Bella slumped in her chair. “She said it caused the...other hers…to become unstuck…unstuck in time. She just…liked the game.”
I nodded. “It was always the game for her, wasn't it?”
“Praetor,” Bella interrupted, “Are you telling me that one of them has come here?”
“Yes, Bella. I think…I think yes.”
Bella cursed silently under her breath. “Where is she?”
“She . . . I don't know,” I sighed. “I left her resting upstairs. She was tired. Grr fixed food for her, but she didn’t eat. I took her upstairs to the cot by the window where Aunt Beast often rested…but…she’s gone now.” I stared out the window, my jaw clenched.
“She left?” Bella asked, incredulous. “She was…allowed...to leave? Jesus...” Bella placed a hand on the pocket with the razor. “The machine...Nareth said...the machine functioned...to the favor of her,” Bella trailed off.
“The machine?” I wondered aloud.
“Well…she said it wasn't a real machine, only a metaphor.” Bella jammed her hand into her pocket. “The machine was here to cover her tracks. Whoever created her, created the machine. People tended…to look the other way.”
I held my face in my hands and began rubbing my temples. “Because people prefer not to see.”
“Something like that,” Bella nodded. “I never understood it very clearly. She just rambled...I listened. Sometimes I thought she was insane. Like…Azathoth.”
“What is she, Bella?” I asked. “What is at the core of her?”
“Nareth?” Bella laughed. “I was only her lover...her blood doll. I can tell you what she wanted me to believe. But...I know it's a lie. That she was...a sort of….” Bella stopped and looked at me evenly. “Let's say an archetype. She would have said that she was the archetypal murderer. But I know it's vastly more complicated than that. She had no intention of ever letting me see the whole.” Bella sighed. “I was only...well…her doll.
“But...think about this, Praetor...she once said...when I asked her about playing tag....She once said, ‘Back up copies,’ and I had no idea what she meant, not then. Do you see? I thought it was a joke.”
I smoothed my skirt, worrying a thread as though it would help me understand. “Apparently, Bella, it was not in the slightest a joke.”
“Praetor, what if...this woman you saw is here...to start it...again?"
“I don't know, Bella. She is human…or appears to be.”
“Does that matter?” Bella’s voice was rising. “I mean...she is Nareth. As much as Nareth was. Just...from another world line.” Bella shook her head.
“Worldline?” I asked.
“I should not even say these things,” Bella shrugged, then went on to explain. “Each part of the multiverse, she said, has its own worldline…and timeline, how things may progress. Each timeline is in constant flux, and holds infinite possibility.” Bella sighed. “I've never been much for physics...she talked about this stuff a lot.”
I nodded. “I suspected this to be a possibility.”
“But…what she said....” Bella trailed off, suddenly looking very tired. “Praetor...you are investigating this woman? The…new Nareth?”
“I sent out a request to the Institute,” I sighed. “But I have yet to stir the interest I had hoped.”
Bella took a deep breath. “I had not planned to stay here. I've even written out a letter of resignation, but...I could be of assistance. I know things....”
“Bella, you seem to be the only one who has a fuller understanding of the implications. All of them.”
“And if...if we could get her back, Praetor....” Bella began nodding to herself, her expression a little over eager. “I mean…if we could get Nareth back…we would, wouldn't we?”
“We would. I would. But there is one thing you should know, Bella. The night we sent Aunt Beast back…she left…another aspect of Nareth here.”
Bella looked at me, confused. “Excuse me?”
“I created a golem, Bella. One borne of iron. And it lives. It has…her memories…or at least some of them.”
Bella began nodding very slowly and laughing. “Fuck. Tag...another copy. Unless...Lorne released her soul?”
“Lorne…did not help, Bella.” He had promised to and yet when I called to Him, silence was my only reply.
Bella’s eyes widened. “Then...this golem...it can't truly be Nareth. It was…a trick…Labyrinth....” Bella smiled and covered her mouth.
“But, Bella,” I stammered, “It has . . . it thinks it is . . . Nareth. It went immediately to where she stored her clothing and dressed in Nareth's own clothes.”
“It would...yes,” Bella nodded. “Praetor...I need to rest, and see what I can remember...try to start putting this all together.”
“Yes…yes, alright, Bella,” I replied and watched as she headed up the stairs.
The Marketplace
Deadweight
Satyr
“Bella,” I smiled in greeting. “Yes, much has changed.” I gestured broadly around the room, my hand sweeping the circle of the Library’s recent renovations.
I watched as she took a deep breath. “She is…gone. We are alone.” Bella lowered her eyes. “I felt her...pass.”
“It is almost as though she never was,” I sighed, closing my tablet and laying down my pen. “There is no mention of her. No discussion. Pontifex has disappeared. Cerdwin is gone. Artemisia. As though they’d never existed.”
“All the dancers, I should think,” Bella murmured. “I almost didn't come back here myself. I suspected I was thought dead.”
I nodded. “I had thought you so, Bella. I didn't think your body could endure.”
Bella turned, walking to the windows, and gazing out into the night rain. “I awoke…on a boat. I suppose she left me there. I was very ill.
Maybe she thought I was dead. Maybe not.” She paused, breathing deeply and wrapping her arms around her chest. “You feel the absence of her, too?”
“You know I swore i would send her back, Bella. But…I never thought she would really go.”
“Was it you who did?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “As did Pontifex. And Omega. Others.”
Bella sighed quietly. “I did not know. I only felt her leave.” Bella turned to me, eyes full of sadness mixed with anger. “Who was that wreck of a vampire that was just here?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know, Bella. She sought refuge from the Lady Omega, and appears impossibly to be pregnant. She was going on and on about refusing to feed, filled with self-loathing of her own nature before she became frightened and fled.”
“The little coward.” A bitter smile crossed Bella’s face. “Nareth wouldn't give it to me. I asked...I asked repeatedly. Now...I'm not even a doll anymore.”
I looked at the floor, unable to meet her eyes, remembering the taste of Nareth’s blood in my own mouth. “Do you feel the desire still?”
Bella gave a harsh laugh and looked at her hands. “Perhaps we shouldn't discuss my desires.” I watched settle into one of the armchairs near the window and reach into her pocket, drawing out a straight razor. “I know that it has changed me, but I wanted that change. I wanted much more.”
I focused on the razor, my face impassive. Bella caught my eye. “Oh, it's not her razor. I have no idea what became of that.” Bella folded the razor open, staring at the blade.
“I…Labyrinth gave it to me,” I began. “It was hungry…it called to me...Nareth’s sigil. I…gave it to Pontifex the night we sent her back, to open the way.”
Bella nodded. “So, he took it when he left?”
“Yes,” I replied. “He took it. And he cut all the bindings from his hands and his arms. When he freed himself of Omega, he left.” I frowned, remembering. “But he gave the blade to Denenthorn who tries to master it, thus it bends him. I have told him he is a fool if he thinks he can.”
“I see,” Bella laughed, folding the razor closed. “So, it's still here. She put a great deal of herself into that blade.”
“And what have you put into yours, Bella?”
“Do you ask me that as my Praetor? Or as...someone who has tasted Nareth?”
I sighed. “I ask as someone who has walked through the void.”
Bellatrix nodded slowly. “I try to follow her example. Part of me can't accept that we lost them both. A god and...Nareth....”
“The stars were not…right, Bella. Perhaps not for Aunt Beast, nor Nareth. And yet…” I trailed off, unable to find the words to express the greatness of the loss and the problem of the brown girl from the beach. I could feel Bella watching me closely.
“And yet?”
It was my turn to stare blankly through the rain drizzled glass. “I went walking by the sea the other night,” I began. “I stopped at a small fire to warm my hands. There were two people there. One, a blondish man in some sort of religious garb. He said he had a boat not far from the shore. The other was a small, dark girl, drenched and shivering. She said she had walked from the sea.”
Bella shifted in her chair. “Walked...from…the sea?”
I nodded. “She was disoriented…she kept asking when she would awaken from the dream.”
“What was her name, Praetor?” Bella began biting at her lower lip.
“Her name is Nareth,” I replied.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a green button and a small plastic card. “This button…she said is a state identity card.” I held it up between thumb and forefinger, rubbing it a little. It began to flash and Bella sat up straighter. “It didn't work at first. But I was able to start it functioning again…the sea water, you see.”
“Praetor,” Bella turned to me. “What year? Past, or future? Future, I'm guessing.”
“Future,” I replied. “Perhaps…future. At least that's what the identification card said.”
“Tag,” Bella murmured. “That's what Nareth called it. Playing tag.” Bella frowned slightly, looking at the objects in my hand. “Yes. She told me, when we were at sea with Abigail. For a while, she amused herself…by tracking herself down. Before she was Omega's Chylde...she did it...I can't recall…ten or twenty times, she said.”
Bella stopped talking and began staring at me as I pinched the button into temporary lifelessness. “She…met herself in time?” I asked with wonder, but there was no disbelief in my voice. I dropped the button and the card back in my pocket.
“Repeatedly,” Bella replied. “She thought it was a sort of game.
Tag.”
“A doppelganger game of chase,” I mused. “But to what end?”
Bella slumped in her chair. “She said it caused the...other hers…to become unstuck…unstuck in time. She just…liked the game.”
I nodded. “It was always the game for her, wasn't it?”
“Praetor,” Bella interrupted, “Are you telling me that one of them has come here?”
“Yes, Bella. I think…I think yes.”
Bella cursed silently under her breath. “Where is she?”
“She . . . I don't know,” I sighed. “I left her resting upstairs. She was tired. Grr fixed food for her, but she didn’t eat. I took her upstairs to the cot by the window where Aunt Beast often rested…but…she’s gone now.” I stared out the window, my jaw clenched.
“She left?” Bella asked, incredulous. “She was…allowed...to leave? Jesus...” Bella placed a hand on the pocket with the razor. “The machine...Nareth said...the machine functioned...to the favor of her,” Bella trailed off.
“The machine?” I wondered aloud.
“Well…she said it wasn't a real machine, only a metaphor.” Bella jammed her hand into her pocket. “The machine was here to cover her tracks. Whoever created her, created the machine. People tended…to look the other way.”
I held my face in my hands and began rubbing my temples. “Because people prefer not to see.”
“Something like that,” Bella nodded. “I never understood it very clearly. She just rambled...I listened. Sometimes I thought she was insane. Like…Azathoth.”
“What is she, Bella?” I asked. “What is at the core of her?”
“Nareth?” Bella laughed. “I was only her lover...her blood doll. I can tell you what she wanted me to believe. But...I know it's a lie. That she was...a sort of….” Bella stopped and looked at me evenly. “Let's say an archetype. She would have said that she was the archetypal murderer. But I know it's vastly more complicated than that. She had no intention of ever letting me see the whole.” Bella sighed. “I was only...well…her doll.
“But...think about this, Praetor...she once said...when I asked her about playing tag....She once said, ‘Back up copies,’ and I had no idea what she meant, not then. Do you see? I thought it was a joke.”
I smoothed my skirt, worrying a thread as though it would help me understand. “Apparently, Bella, it was not in the slightest a joke.”
“Praetor, what if...this woman you saw is here...to start it...again?"
“I don't know, Bella. She is human…or appears to be.”
“Does that matter?” Bella’s voice was rising. “I mean...she is Nareth. As much as Nareth was. Just...from another world line.” Bella shook her head.
“Worldline?” I asked.
“I should not even say these things,” Bella shrugged, then went on to explain. “Each part of the multiverse, she said, has its own worldline…and timeline, how things may progress. Each timeline is in constant flux, and holds infinite possibility.” Bella sighed. “I've never been much for physics...she talked about this stuff a lot.”
I nodded. “I suspected this to be a possibility.”
“But…what she said....” Bella trailed off, suddenly looking very tired. “Praetor...you are investigating this woman? The…new Nareth?”
“I sent out a request to the Institute,” I sighed. “But I have yet to stir the interest I had hoped.”
Bella took a deep breath. “I had not planned to stay here. I've even written out a letter of resignation, but...I could be of assistance. I know things....”
“Bella, you seem to be the only one who has a fuller understanding of the implications. All of them.”
“And if...if we could get her back, Praetor....” Bella began nodding to herself, her expression a little over eager. “I mean…if we could get Nareth back…we would, wouldn't we?”
“We would. I would. But there is one thing you should know, Bella. The night we sent Aunt Beast back…she left…another aspect of Nareth here.”
Bella looked at me, confused. “Excuse me?”
“I created a golem, Bella. One borne of iron. And it lives. It has…her memories…or at least some of them.”
Bella began nodding very slowly and laughing. “Fuck. Tag...another copy. Unless...Lorne released her soul?”
“Lorne…did not help, Bella.” He had promised to and yet when I called to Him, silence was my only reply.
Bella’s eyes widened. “Then...this golem...it can't truly be Nareth. It was…a trick…Labyrinth....” Bella smiled and covered her mouth.
“But, Bella,” I stammered, “It has . . . it thinks it is . . . Nareth. It went immediately to where she stored her clothing and dressed in Nareth's own clothes.”
“It would...yes,” Bella nodded. “Praetor...I need to rest, and see what I can remember...try to start putting this all together.”
“Yes…yes, alright, Bella,” I replied and watched as she headed up the stairs.
The Marketplace
Deadweight
Satyr
While the brown girl lay sleeping
I lifted my skirt slightly with a palm to my thigh and headed back down the stairs, to the drawing room of the Library. “I think she's resting now, Grr. What was all that ruckus about?”
Denenthorn stood talking with Grr, wings stiff yet slightly unfurled. “Have I ever told you how hard it is for me to remember songs?” he jokingly asked me. I frowned, confused and turned back to Grr.
“The tosser hothead bolt-faces wanted ta whine that their playhouse went bang after Her Ladyship pulled their asses outta tha fire and gave them tha kiss of life...typical.” The Continuum. The Lady had managed to save them all from dying as the result of a hack, but collateral damage had left their headquarters in ruins.
Denenthorn shrugged. “Don't fret. I'll talk to Fareabell and smooth it all over.”
“That’s good,” Grr replied, then gestured upstairs where the sleeping Nareth lay. “Tha was a real shock, I wondered, maybe, if tha Nareth-Bot got Pinochio'd.”
“Joah,” Denenthorn frowned, “Does that thing upstairs resemble my granddaughter any?”
I sighed. “She’s not a thing, Denenthorn. She’s a woman.”
“You are sure?” Denenthorn met my eyes with a deep question in his.
“Am I sure that she is a woman? Yes. Am I sure that she’s human? Not entirely. But she appears to be…and I'm very tired.”
Denenthorn nodded. “May I meet her when she awakens?”
“I am sure that you can, Denenthorn,” I replied. “Just be careful of the blade.”
“The blade will not come near her,” Denenthorn muttered. “I shall place it off my body.”
Grr sighed, “Both of you…just in case.”
Denenthorn stood talking with Grr, wings stiff yet slightly unfurled. “Have I ever told you how hard it is for me to remember songs?” he jokingly asked me. I frowned, confused and turned back to Grr.
“The tosser hothead bolt-faces wanted ta whine that their playhouse went bang after Her Ladyship pulled their asses outta tha fire and gave them tha kiss of life...typical.” The Continuum. The Lady had managed to save them all from dying as the result of a hack, but collateral damage had left their headquarters in ruins.
Denenthorn shrugged. “Don't fret. I'll talk to Fareabell and smooth it all over.”
“That’s good,” Grr replied, then gestured upstairs where the sleeping Nareth lay. “Tha was a real shock, I wondered, maybe, if tha Nareth-Bot got Pinochio'd.”
“Joah,” Denenthorn frowned, “Does that thing upstairs resemble my granddaughter any?”
I sighed. “She’s not a thing, Denenthorn. She’s a woman.”
“You are sure?” Denenthorn met my eyes with a deep question in his.
“Am I sure that she is a woman? Yes. Am I sure that she’s human? Not entirely. But she appears to be…and I'm very tired.”
Denenthorn nodded. “May I meet her when she awakens?”
“I am sure that you can, Denenthorn,” I replied. “Just be careful of the blade.”
“The blade will not come near her,” Denenthorn muttered. “I shall place it off my body.”
Grr sighed, “Both of you…just in case.”
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Je veux rentrer
I sat on one of the gold cushions by the fire, next to Nareth, and took a length of string from my pocket, holding it straight between my hands. “Nareth…the Nareth we knew...was many women. She traveled in many times.’
Nareth turned her head, watching me. “Traveled...in time?”
"I went with her once,” I nodded. “Imagine time running a long this string.” I held up my left hand, then the right. "The past…the future." I could see Omega watching, Brit listening, her eyes unnaturally bright.
“It's a string, just a string,” Nareth said. “And…I do not believe this.”
“Imagine an ant crawling along the string, moving from the past to the future.” I brought my hands together and the string fell beneath them in a loop. “But there can be a wrinkle.”
“A wrinkle?” asked Nareth.
“If the ant were on my left hand, it could walk straight to the right hand. Over the wrinkle. Through time to the future. Or step back into the past.” I took the string and tied it, forming a circle.
Nareth laughed nervously. “And you are saying I am an ant?”
“I am saying you are a traveler,” I replied. “An unconventional one. Now suppose, there were many threads of time." I looped the circle over my hands and wove it around my fingers, making a web. “Each thread, running its own course. Some parallel. Some not. But when I bring my fingers together…there is the wrinkle.”
Nareth furrowed her brow, not quite understanding.
“A traveler might move from one world’s time to another over such a wrinkle. It is called a tesseract.”
Nareth whispered, "Tesseract….The woman...in the market today... She...”
“She may have tessered you when she touched you,” I replied.
Nareth continued, “She said something. I had...forgotten. It makes no sense...Joah. What she said...I mean. Maybe…poetry. I do not know.”
“Will you tell us?” I asked.
Nareth nodded. “She said...to me…before she touched me...there's always a siren...and she said...there is another shore you know, upon..the other...side. And then….” Nareth glanced at the fire. “And then I was on the beach...well...almost.”
Grr had come bounding back into the Library, with food he had prepared, offering two bowls to Nareth, one slightly larger than the other. There were spoons in each, a laksa of some sort, noodles and green things bobbing its redness. The scent of ginger filled the room.
Nareth looked at Grr then gazed back into the fire. “I do not think…I am hungry…after all. Joah, if you are right...how do I…go home? Back...across the string?”
I sat in silence for a moment, tracing the arc of the flames in the hearth with my fingertip. “First, you have to decide where home is. Then you must learn to tesser.”
“I know…where home is...or…I know when,” Nareth frowned.
I nodded. “The Nareth I knew…simply opened a vortex. And went.”
Nareth lowered her head and stared at the floor.
Nareth turned her head, watching me. “Traveled...in time?”
"I went with her once,” I nodded. “Imagine time running a long this string.” I held up my left hand, then the right. "The past…the future." I could see Omega watching, Brit listening, her eyes unnaturally bright.
“It's a string, just a string,” Nareth said. “And…I do not believe this.”
“Imagine an ant crawling along the string, moving from the past to the future.” I brought my hands together and the string fell beneath them in a loop. “But there can be a wrinkle.”
“A wrinkle?” asked Nareth.
“If the ant were on my left hand, it could walk straight to the right hand. Over the wrinkle. Through time to the future. Or step back into the past.” I took the string and tied it, forming a circle.
Nareth laughed nervously. “And you are saying I am an ant?”
“I am saying you are a traveler,” I replied. “An unconventional one. Now suppose, there were many threads of time." I looped the circle over my hands and wove it around my fingers, making a web. “Each thread, running its own course. Some parallel. Some not. But when I bring my fingers together…there is the wrinkle.”
Nareth furrowed her brow, not quite understanding.
“A traveler might move from one world’s time to another over such a wrinkle. It is called a tesseract.”
Nareth whispered, "Tesseract….The woman...in the market today... She...”
“She may have tessered you when she touched you,” I replied.
Nareth continued, “She said something. I had...forgotten. It makes no sense...Joah. What she said...I mean. Maybe…poetry. I do not know.”
“Will you tell us?” I asked.
Nareth nodded. “She said...to me…before she touched me...there's always a siren...and she said...there is another shore you know, upon..the other...side. And then….” Nareth glanced at the fire. “And then I was on the beach...well...almost.”
Grr had come bounding back into the Library, with food he had prepared, offering two bowls to Nareth, one slightly larger than the other. There were spoons in each, a laksa of some sort, noodles and green things bobbing its redness. The scent of ginger filled the room.
Nareth looked at Grr then gazed back into the fire. “I do not think…I am hungry…after all. Joah, if you are right...how do I…go home? Back...across the string?”
I sat in silence for a moment, tracing the arc of the flames in the hearth with my fingertip. “First, you have to decide where home is. Then you must learn to tesser.”
“I know…where home is...or…I know when,” Nareth frowned.
I nodded. “The Nareth I knew…simply opened a vortex. And went.”
Nareth lowered her head and stared at the floor.
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