The ones that you love lead you nowhere

[al_shairan]

Open up your heart to me; I would be your slave.

*

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.

Thursday, mid-afternoon, the Carnival

"How many of our Brothers have you destroyed, how many have you twisted away from Love

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[tereixa_zann]

It's been a strange time, it has been such a strange time, it really really has. No-one but family on the lot when it hit, thank god, 'cause marks are a bit rough at the best of times and I do not wanna think what it coulda turned into if it'd hit on a packed night, it would have been Judgment Day on the midway

[al_shairan]

A young woman calls out to me as I walk into the carnival. It is a drab sort of place, although I see signs that at night, and in a better season, it might have a sort of transitory loveliness, the flicker of electric lights and the swirl of the rides. In daylight it reminds me of bones in the desert.

"Oh, honey, are you okay?"

It's a strangely generous sort of question for a stranger. Unless she thinks she knows me, but I do not think that is it, and I stop in front of her.

"No," I say. "Not at all." There is a brief sort of relief in saying it.

[tereixa_zann]

"No," he says, "Not at all," and there's that slip, quarter-turn loosening of a bolt caked with grease and a subtle sigh going through the parts of the machine...

"Come and sit down?" I say, moving to the edge of the Carousel and dropping to the boards, looking up at him. He's beautiful, I think, maybe Genny's age and with some of the same delicate build. Brighter than her, though, like a lightbulb filament against the air of the day. "It's okay, she's mine," I add, patting the Carousel and smiling, "no-one's gonna kick us off." Not that I think he's really worried about that, looks like he's got bigger things on his mind, but it's something to put him a bit at ease. "I'm Zann, Tereixa Zann, just Zann's fine if you like."

Hesitate for a second, and then go on a bit softer. "I guess... is it your memory, hon? Or you have a fight with a friend?"

[al_shairan]

"I'm Zann, Tereixa Zann, just Zann's fine if you like."

"Hello, just-Zann," I say, sitting down next to her. "I am..." I pause, because I do not remember what they call me in this tongue, and if I say my name as I remember it may be like the church again. "I do not know what you should call me," I say, and that is true. I do not want to lie, even if I think it would be prudent for me to leave some things out.

"I guess... is it your memory, hon? Or you have a fight with a friend?"

That is it, so precisely and so prosaically, that I almost laugh.

"That," I say. "Both. I have forgotten half of who I've been, and I found someone I have not seen in a long time and he said he still loves me, but not enough to forgive me. But I cannot remember what it is I did." I think of the things the god showed me. I do not remember. I do not. "And I miss my kin," I say, and I hear my human voice wobble briefly. These bodies seem so solid, and yet they are water that holds itself in a shape by some strange and unlikely combination of circumstances.

[tereixa_zann]

Ah, well, he sits down at least, and I hope that's a start. "Hello, just-Zann. I am..." and he kind of stops, and then says "I do not know what you should call me." Which is a bit of an odd way to put it, but I nod.

"Okay, honey," I say, and then catch myself and laugh a bit. "Sorry, that wasn't meant to be a make-do name... Just tell me if I've called you something I shouldn't, okay? And maybe it'll come to you." And the fight with a friend thing seems to have hit the nail on the head, and he looks like he's almost gonna smile but he doesn't.

"That. Both. I have forgotten half of who I've been, and I found someone I have not seen in a long time and he said he still loves me, but not enough to forgive me. But I cannot remember what it is I did," and his voice gets tight for a moment and for just a second I feel a bit hazy and I press my hands down against the boards of the Carousel and I feel better

[al_shairan]

"Sorry, that wasn't meant to be a make-do name... Just tell me if I've called you something I shouldn't, okay? And maybe it'll come to you."

I smile at her.

"You can give me a make-do name if you like," I say. "I do not mind." And humans do seem to like to be able to name things.

"That's a bit harsh of him," she says, and I feel my nostrils flare defensively, and then she adds "Look, he's--he sounds pretty pissed off, but he said he still loves you. God knows no-one can upset you like the people you care about, you know? Maybe he'll come around."

"Perhaps," I say. "He has always been stubborn." I smile a little. "He is not the love of my life," I add. "But I miss him."

"I think so, I mean,we're figuring it out. It's a bit odd, some of what went missing, but we're okay.Me, I don't remember most of fall or winter, but I think that's it. I'm--" She touches me lightly on the shoulder, and I get a sense of gears and cogs turning, strange bright high music of creation, small but lovely, and I could almost weep. I put my hand over

[tereixa_zann]

"You can give me a make-do name if you like," and his smile's kind of sweet, and I'm smiling back. "I do not mind."

"Maybe if I think of one," I say, and I will if I do, but for the moment I just want to look at him, all bright in the windy day. "Names kinda come around, I think, when you get to know someone," I add.

He gets ready to bristle when I say what I do about his friend being harsh, and I think that maybe that's a good thing, that he knows there's still something there. I hope so. "He has always been stubborn," he says, and manages a very faint smile. "He is not the love of my life. But I miss him," and I nod, and I do know what that's like

[al_shairan]

"Names kinda come around, I think, when you get to know someone," she says, and I nod. I think she is right.

"It is hard, is it not? Knowing someone." I wonder how well I would need to be known to be given a name.

"I don't have one, a love of my life, I mean. But I know how much missing someone hurts."

I imagine not having this love, and my throat tightens again. How swiftly this body reacts to feeling.

"I hope you find one, or it finds you," I say quietly.

"I still had nights I wanted to just go home, though. Just to be around them."

"Oh, yes," I say. I do not think she can feel as I feel. But I think she can understand a part of it, and that is worth something today.

She talks about her work, and her words are a patter of light.

"How could you tell? I mean you're right, you are, but most people don't see it that fast."

"I am not like most people," I say, which is true enough. (I suddenly wonder how much trouble that word enough can cause.) "I can hear it in you, like a fragment of a greater song." I smile at her, because

[tereixa_zann]

"I hope you find one, or it finds you," he says and he sounds like he means it and I guess it's sweet of him to be wishing me that, but he sounds so sad.

"I'll give it time," I say, and then add "Listen, I'm sure it'll work out, someday. There's so much out there, you know, I think I'd have to work at it to not find something," and I sweep my free hand in an arc through the air. "And there's good things anyway, good people, beautiful work and works, even if they maybe aren't the love of my life right now. Waiting's hardly a pain, you know?"

And I talk about my family, and he feels a little distant, still, like someone dancing in sync with you but all the way over on the other side of an empty room, but at least there's something.

"I am not like most people," he says, and I nod. "I can hear it in you, like a fragment of a greater song," and he smiles at me and for a moment I think I can see a dim echo of what it must be like to hear that, the music of the spheres, clear as ringing crystal instead of only a faint echo. "I sing

[al_shairan]

"And there's good things anyway, good people, beautiful work and works, even if they maybe aren't the love of my life right now. Waiting's hardly a pain, you know?"

I rest my chin on my hand, my elbow on my knee.

"You have a ... bright way of looking at the world," I say. It is not a brilliant light, not the kind that blinds, but it is lovely, I think, lovely. "Something about you reminds me of home. Not," I add, "that I think we are related." I give her a little smile.

"You must hear such lovely things," she says, touching my face, and there is that strange pulse of disgust-desire that I felt when I touched the woman in the abbey, but the strange relief of the contact is greater than both. I find myself leaning into her hand. "Could you have been here before? In the summer, when it rained? I remember someone showing me Excolo, and the town behind it, the idea of it in summer and winter and the years laying themselves out like ripples, echoes, repeating circles in the light of people's lives...""I do not know," I say, and I do

[tereixa_zann]

"You have a ... bright way of looking at the world," he says, lacing himself together and propping himself up on himself, and I smile. "Something about you reminds me of home. Not that I think we are related." And I smile back at him, and then when I touch his face he leans into my hand a little and I can feel his hair tickling the edges of my fingers, light as gold. I think of Genny again and I smile, not for anything special but because she sees things and he hears things and beautiful, beautiful both and all.

He doesn't know if it was him who unfolded the meaning (Excolo) like a flower in my mind, and I hope he remembers, hope I remember that a little better, because I think it was lovely. "There is a poem, I think I know it... The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them," and now I'm sure I know him except I don't know why, because it's not exactly like a memory. It's more like hearing the perfect combination of patter in a talk, like tightening a bolt and feeling when it's balanced exactly as it needs to be, a

[npc_excolo]

Memory in man is a most curious beast, we have found; slippery as a snake and as circumlocutory as a cat (one remembers how they circle, no? Even when they become lamps or pocket watches, tick tock). We were here-and-there when Tezcatlipoca's magic slipped out of his grasp and into the town, and we returned to find the whole place quite transported, haha. Oh, what a precious joke, we shall have to commend him.

We take a turn about the carnival. It is so interesting to see how other powers affect memory, for we, of course, are masters of what is remembered. All are quite safe, and so our duty is discharged. Whether we need to intervene or not remains to be -

Seen. Oh, we see that. Curious, curious, curious.

"Zann," we say, sidling up to her, and she will remember we are Management in a moment, and lose it the next. "Have we met your friend?"

[al_shairan]

"I miss some of the feeling in the tips. A little came back, but it's always like I'm wearing gloves on the end of them."

I look at her fingers thoughtfully.

"I think," I say. "I think I could make them like they were." I rub my thumb over the flattened places, and yes, I can feel how her skin is knit, how the blood pumps beneath the surface. I know how it could be done.

She talks about how her fingertips were lost, and what was won, and she adds:
"...she is in her place and moves with perfect balance."

"You are," I say, quite gravely. "I can see that perfectly well." I can, because I have known it myself. I have been in my place with perfect balance. "You are a body electric," I say, and I lean forward and kiss her, just to see if I can feel her joy better if I touch her. I can.

I sit back, and then there is - something quite other, like a shadow moving across the sun. It-they greet Zann as if they are acquainted, and I look into the sparkle-dark-space curiously.

[tereixa_zann]

"I think," he says as if he were discovering it as he says it, the words shaping the understanding, "I think I could make them like they were."

I believe him; I know that even Constantine couldn't, not with them lost and with the time until I got to them, but I believe him. "I would like that," I admit, "but the way they are, it fits together with what happened, you see? It's part of me and part of her and all the time between now and then... What would that sound like?" because I would love to know, would love to hear him say it even if I don't understand.

Perfect balance and "You are," he says. "I can see that perfectly well," and I believe it, the whole of what the word perfect means, and that he can see anything that way, that it can be seen, is a wonder. To take no less delight in what another can do than in what you yourself can do and I think might heart is singing. "You are a body electric," and he kisses me and it's like being in sunlight with all the air singing, the wind moving over the world like a shout of joy and

[npc_excolo]

Zann is always so charming.

"The heterodyne, how clever," we say, and laugh. "Does he oscillate on your frequency? That brave vibration each way free; O how that glittering taketh me! And he does take, he does."

He is looking back at us as if he has never seen us before, and we would think it was one of his games, but there is the same smudge to him as upon everyone. Well, well, Tezcatlipoca, you have reached far indeed. Very far.

"I love him," says Zann.

"Of course you do," we say. "He is so very beautiful, is he not?" So beautiful, and at the moment of unfortunately little use. How many more voices are required to sing gloria? How much better it is to sing a counterpoint, yes. We prefer the other song.

We wander away from them, toward our trailer. There is work to be done.

[al_shairan]

Zann calls it-them Management, which seems to suit. They glitter at us curiously and then they are gone.

"You are used to unusual things, I see," I say to Zann. There is power there, and mystery, and things dangerous and strange, but I can follow them another day. When she said I love him I felt this heart press against my ribs. It is a simpler feeling than that provoked in me by Azrael; there is no gall to it, and so even if it is not ecstatic, it is kinder. I take her hands.

"I love you too," I say simply, and I kiss her callused knuckles, that ordinary worn skin. "I would like to stay with you for a little while, if I may." I wonder if I have ever asked a human for a favour before. "And I can sing to you of your then and now, hot wire and oil and daybreak." I think I would like to give her a gift.