we need a record of our failures, as we must document our love
Someday, the cathedral may be a wonder of marble span; from outside, or the idea of outside, he saw the rose window and the majestic scale of the thing, though the main tower is wrapped still in scaffolding.
Inside there's something like a maze of plywood that leads him, by strange ways, to the nave. The marble under foot is cold, set with seals at intervals he can't predict without the whole perspective of the room.
The woman in white has a blade across her knees; she doesn't lift it when he emerges. She only lifts her eyes to meet him. He nods to her.
Both of them are aware of the blade. That's all that's necessary.
The other woman is in blue. She looks well. Better than she did the last time he saw her. It suits her better.
I have a message from your father, Lady.
When she doesn't reply, he goes on. He is sorry. For what has been, and what is yet to come.
At last Oriza raises rose-madder eyes to meet his. He is not forgiven.
And neither are you.
No, Lady. Of course not. A wry smile, and he turns to go, but he doesn't go too fast. He gives the lady in white another nod. Dorcas.
Hold.
He holds, his back to her, and so he risks a crafty smile.
I have need of you, messenger.
They always do. They all do.
He returns to the dam. Wary, but he does. It's the fastest way to travel, and the snare is unraveled now. Through the Portal of the Bat, along the Path of the Beam, and he emerges at the other end by the Portal of the Hare, emerging on this end beneath the sea. He rises above the Gulf of Mexico, and he sees a darkness. It's spreading.
She stands on the shore in her red velvet cloak, the wind snatching at the edges.
Lady.
She gives him a smile he doesn't trust. They know each other of old.
Maerlyn. My dear, what brings you to this fastness?
My ka, Lady, and nothing else.
Of course. Of course. What news from your master?
Lady, Gan the Maker would have you know--
Yes?
--that he is not lazy, and he is not sleeping. He is aware.
No doubt his pawn is already on the move. And have you nothing to say on your own account, Maerlyn? No little tale to tell? You were always so fond of stories, in the old days.
He measures out his words carefully. I will say to thee only, Lady, what Tarquin said to the highwayman
She laughs, raucous and harsh. "Of course, you realize this means war."?
Tell me, Maerlyn, how does that story end? I can't remember...
The hare dies, in that one.
Mm.
He waits.
I have need of thee, darling.
I have none of thee, Lady. But I am what my ka has made me, and I will carry your messages.
Go to the bull, then, messenger, and ask him...
ask him where he will flee to this time.
Deep in the woods of Oregon is a town called Rock and Roll Heaven. On the edge of town they're building a stage; doing soundcheck. It looks big enough for the whole podunk place to turn up, if they want.
The one he's looking for is there, working in the auto shop. He crawls out from under a body-kitted midnight-colored Ford Expedition and holds out a greasy hand.
"Raf! You old sonuvabitch, I see you got yourself loose."
Raf doesn't shake; the mechanic wipes his hand clean and offers it again, and he still doesn't. The mechanic laughs, loud and easy, and moves towards the shelves. He finds a jug behind the oil filters and reaches for a waxed paper cup.
I won't drink with the Red. I'm delivering messages. It isn't what I'd call a social call.
The mechanic stills his hand. "Murph. Kurt. Get out."
The two other men--the driver of the Expedition, as looming and dark as his car, and a blond man in coveralls with the greasy hair and wispy beard of a hippie Jesus--exchange glances and get out. The driver gives Raf a gem-shiny and razor-toothed grin on his way out. The messenger is unmoved.
"So what is it? Something from the old man?" The mechanic slops a little in the Dixie cup for himself.
Gan the Maker has a message for you, yes. Stiff.
"Gan. The Maker. Locked you in a hole for a thousand years, you boot-licking shit." The contents of the Dixie cup die for their country, and are replaced.
We go back a long way, boy.The messenger's tone is sharp. I was there when he built the Rock of Ages, as you may recall. I've always been there. I serve. It's my ka.
"I'm older than you," the mechanic growls, and the messenger scoffs.
No, you just been around longer. I'm old, me. You're young and stupid. You'll always be young and stupid. And that's your ka.
"Smart enough to get out," the mechanic reminds him. "Old enough to outlive Los', that fuckin' Froot Loop."
Messages.
"Yeah."
First: The Lady Oriza lives. He watches closely for any reaction, but the mechanic only refills the Dixie cup again.
She sent this for you. He takes a letter from the breast of his uniform and holds it out; after a moment, the other god takes it, and rips it in half, and pitches the pieces away.
"Tell her no one here cares if she lives or she dies. Next?"
Poker-faced: The Lady Perse bids you consider where you'll run next.
The mechanic slaps him, hard, with the back of his hand. After a moment the old god picks himself up from the cold floor of the auto bay. "You can give that to her, if you're so inclined." He slouches back towards the jug.
From Gan the Maker, Raf continues, his lips trembling only a little. He reminds you that your ka is fixed--you will be destroyed by a woman--
His fist clenches, but he doesn't turn around. "Nice to know he's thinking of me."
--and yet, you have choices. You always have choices.
"Is that it?"
Yes.
"Then get the fuck out."
After a while, Kurt pokes his head back in, and watches the Boss Man warily. His shoulders are hunched, and his shadow is strange. Without turning around:
"Go get the Ki--the Mayor, Kurt. We need to discuss the future. And tell him the concert is canceled tonight." He pauses. "But first go catch that old man before he gets out of town. I've got a message for him."
Last stop, for now; Austin, Texas. It's hotter than hell, and the sun barely up. Humid, a lot more than usual. It's been raining. He catches George Hill coming out the HEB at 7 am and headed for an ancient powder-blue pickup in the parking lot.
"You George Hill?"
George has peeled off a red uniform t-shirt; he throws it in the cab. The shirt he wears underneath is soaked with sweat, a thrift store special that declares him a competitor in the Red Cross Marathon For Life."What's it to you?"
"A couple years back you killed a man in Indiana. Name of Belushi."
He turns away; starts to climb into the cab. "I don't have the faintest fucking clue--"
The old man is beside him. Yes, you do.
He was waiting for you in the parking lot. George is very still. You killed him with a shotgun you borrowed off the owner of the club, and the two of you hid the body together. It was the start of a beautiful but--
And then George goes for the gun under the seat, but the old man is outside again, behind him at the window. --all too brief friendship. Tell me if I'm wrong.
George sticks the gun in his face, his hand steady. "Man, you better--"
He's coming back. Belushi. That won't be his name, and he won't look the same. He'll be different, but not really different. Road viruses don't really die, George, they just... hang in there. He's coming back.
"None of you." George licks his lips. "None of you fuckers are on my side."
I'm not on your side, George, Raf assures him. I'm just a messenger. And I'm pretty sure the one who sent the message ain't on your side, either. But it's worth hearing, anyway.
"So... what?" George swallows, and put the gun away. "That's it? Belushi is coming back for me?"
He doesn't even remember you, the messenger says. But yes, he's coming for you. For reasons that make perfect sense, from his perspective. Just... one of those things.
He won't be alone.
George darkens. "Ka."
A fleeting, mirthless smile. That's right. I can see you know all about it.
"So what am I supposed to do about it?"
The old man shrugs. I don't usually give advice to people who stick guns in my face. But if I can channel the one who sent the warning... I believe he'd tell you to run.
One minute an old man in a strange uniform; the next, a blue jay, poised on a Dodge Dart.
[Icon credits: mrbeaky , agonistes , famineghost with tweak by agonistes , gao , Hollow Art, and gao again. Larger images: Startsandfits.com. Wikimedia Commons, Subaru.com, Google Maps, Birdwatching.com.]