C:\Users\John\Downloads\S\Sheri S. Tepper - Marianne 01 - Marianne, The Magus,

and the Manticore.pdb

PDB Name:

Sheri S. Tepper - Marianne, the

Creator ID:

REAd

PDB Type:

TEXt

Version:

0

Unique ID Seed:

0

Creation Date:

02/01/2008

Modification Date:

02/01/2008

Last Backup Date:

01/01/1970

Modification Number:

0

DURIN
G TH
E NIGHT
, Mariann e wa s awakene d b y a stead y drum
-
ming of rain, a muffled tattoo as from a thousand drumsticks on the flat porch
roof, a splash and gurgle from the rainspout at the corner of the house
outside Mrs. Winesap's window, bubbling its music in vain to ears which did
not hear. "I hear,"
whispered Marianne, speaking to the night, the rain, the comer of the living
room she could see from her bed. When she lay just so, the blanket drawn
across her lips, the pillow crunched into an exact shape, she could see the
amber glow of a lamp in the living room left on to light one corner of the
reupholstered couch, the sheen of the carefully carpentered shelves above it,
the responsive glow of the refinished table below, all in a kindly shine and
haze of belonging there. "Mine," said Marianne to the room. The lamplight fell
on the first corner of the apartment to be fully finished, and she left the
light on so that she could see it if she woke, a reminder of what was
possible, a promise that all the rooms would be reclaimed from dust and
dilapi-
dation. Soon the kitchen would be finished. Two more weeks at the extra work
she was doing for the library and she'd have enough money for the bright
Mexican tiles she had set her heart upon.

"Mine, " sh e sai d again
, shuttin g he r eye s firml y agains t th e seductive glow. She had
spent all Cloud-haired mama's jewelry o n th e house
. Th e lowe r floor
, mor e recentl y occupie d an d i n a bette r stat e o f repair
, wa s rente d ou t t o Mrs
. Winesa p an d
Mr
. Larken—whos e relationshi p Mariann e ofte n speculate d upon,
varyingly, as open windows admitted sounds of argument o r expostulatio n o
r a s th e wall s transmitte d th e unmistakabl e rhyth m o f
bedsprings—an d th e shimm y par t wa s occupie d b y
Marianne herself. "Not so slummy anymore," she hummed to herself in the
darkness. "Not so damn slummy."
I f sh e ha d bee n asked
, sh e coul d no t hav e sai d wh y i t ha d been so important to have
rooms of her own, rooms with softly glowing floorboards, rooms with carefully
stripped woodwork painte d a littl e darke r tha n th e walls
, al l i n a mauvey
, sunse t glow

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, coo l an d spaciou s a s a vie w o f distan t mountains
, wher e ther e ha d bee n onl y cracked
, staine d plaste r wit h bit s o f horse
-
hai r protrudin g fro m i t t o mak e he r thin k fo r wear y month
s that she was trying to make a home in the corpse of some great, defunc t
animal
. A
t th e tim e sh e ha d no t know n abou t ol d plaster, old stairs,
old walls, nothing about splintered wood-
work and senile plumbing—either balky or incontinent. Some-
thin g i n th e ol d hous e ha d nagge d a t her
. "Bu y me
, lady
. You'r e poor
. I' m poor
. Bu y me
, an d le t u s liv e together.
"
Perhaps it had been the grace of the curved, beveled glass light s abov e th
e fron t doo r an d th e upstair s windows
. Perhap s it had been the high ceilings, cracked though they were, and th e
gentl e slop e o f th e banister s leadin g t o th e secon d floor
.
Perhaps the dim, cavelike mystery of the third floor beneath the flat roof.
Perhaps even the arch of branches in the tangled shrubbery which spoke of old,
flowering things needing to be rescue d fro m formlessnes s an d thistle
. "Sleepin g Beauty, " sh e had said more than once. "A hundred years
asleep." Though i t hadn'
t bee n a hundre d years
. Te n o r fifteen
, perhaps
, sinc e someon e ha d pu t a ne w roo f o n it . Forty
, perhaps
, sinc e anyon e had painted or repaired otherwise. Both times someone,
anyone ha d ru n ou t o f money
, o r time
, o r interest
, an d ha d give n u p to let it stand half vacant, occupied on the lower
floor by a succession of recluses who had let the vines cover the windows and
the shrubs grow into a thicket.
Perhap s i t hadn'
t bee n anythin g uniqu e i n thi s particula r

house except that it stood only a block from the campus. From her windows she
could look across the lawns of the university to the avenue, across acres of
orderly green setting off rose-
ash walls of Georgian brick, a place of quiet and haven among th e har d
streets
. "Dam n Harvey, " sh e humme d t o herself
, mov
-
ing toward sleep. This was part of the daily litany: at least a decade of
"mine's" and five or six "damn Harvey's."
It shouldn't have been necessary to sell all
Mama's jewelry.
Harvey could have advanced her some of her own inheritance —
eve n loane d i t t o he r a t interest
. Th e pas t tw o year s o f nigglin g economies, the endless hours

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using the heat gun to strip paint unti l he r ear s ran g wit h th e how
l o f i t an d he r hand s turne d numb.... "Carpal tunnel syndrome,"
the doctor had said. "Quit whatever your're doing with your hands and the
swelling will stop
. Wit h wha t you r pap a lef t you
, sweetie
, what'
s thi s passio n for doing your own carpentry? " Dr. Brown was an old
friend—
well, an old acquaintance—who believed his white hair gave him license to call
her sweetie. Maybe he called all the people he had once delivered as babies
sweetie, no matter how old they got, but the familiar, almost contemptuou s
way he said it didn't tempt her to explain.
"Look," she could have said. "Papa Zahmani was pure, old-
country macho to the tips of his toes. He didn't leave his little gir l
anything.
H
e lef t i t al l i n half-brothe r Harvey'
s hand s unti l little Marianne either gets married—in which case presumably
her sensible husband will take care of it for her—or gets to be thirt y year
s old
. I gues s h e figure d i f Mariann e wasn'
t safel y marrie d b y thirty
, sh e neve r woul d b e an d i t woul d b e saf e t o let such a
hardened spinster handle her own affairs. Until men, however, Harvey controls
the lot—half-brothe r Harvey who treat s ever y dim e o f Marianne'
s mone y a s thoug h i t wer e a drop of his own blood."
Anyhow
, wh y explain
? I t wouldn'
t chang e anything
. Th e truth was simply that she hadn't the money to pay anyone to paint the
walls or strip the woodwork or reupholster the fur-
niture scrounged from secondhand shops. "Junk shops," she reminde d herself
. "No t s o dam n junk y anymore....
"
"You can live on what I allow you," Harvey had said, off-
handedly
. "I
f yo u ge t a chea p roo m somewhere
. There'
s n o earthly reason for you to go on to school. You are by no stretch

o f th e imaginatio n a seriou s student
, an d i f you'r e determine d to live the academic life—well, you'll have
to work your way through
. I f you'r e determine d t o ge t a graduat e degree—whic h wil l b
e useles s t o you—you'l l spen d mos t o f you r tim e o n campus
anyhow. You don't need a nice place to live. A little student squalor goes
with the academic ambience."
No t tha t Harve y expose d himsel f t o squalo r o f an y kind
.
Hi s six-roo m Bosto n apartmen t too k u p hal f th e uppe r floo r
o f a mello w ol d brownston e o n Beaco n Hill
, an d a n endles s skei n of nubile, saponaceous Melissas and Randis and
Cheryls re-
place d on e anothe r a t eage r interval s a s unpai d housekeepers
, cooks
, an d laundresse s fo r Harve y S . Zahmani

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, professo r o f
Oriental languages and sometime ethnologist, who had had the use of all his
own inheritance and all of Marianne's since he wa s twenty-six
. Pap a hadn'
t believe d tha t wome n shoul d tak e up space in universitie s unless
they "had to work," a fate ev-
idently worse than death and far, far worse than an unhapp y marriage. "I do
have to work," Marianne had said to Harvey more than once. "Do you really
expect me to live on $500 a month
? Com e on
, Harvey
, that'
s povert y leve l minu s an d yo u know it."
"It's what Papa would have done." Bland, smiling, knowing sh e kne w h e
didn'
t giv e a dam n wha t Pap a woul d hav e done
, that he hadn't cared for Papa or Papa's opinions at all, giving he r tha t
twing e dee p dow n i n he r stomac h tha t sai d "n o fur y lik e a
ma n scorned, " an d a kin d o f fear
, too
, tha t th e ma n scorne d woul d tr y somethin g wors e t o ge t
even
.
"Hell
, Harvey, " sh e whispere d t o herself
. " I wa s onl y thir
-
tee n an d yo u wer e twenty-six
. I don'
t car e i f yo u wer e drunk
.
You'r e m y half-brother
, fo r God'
s sake
. Wha t di d yo u expec t me to do, just lie there and let you use me for
one of your
Randi s o r Cheryl s becaus e I wa s convenient?
" I t ha d bee n a frightening scene, interrupted by the housekeeper.
Neither of the m ha d referre d t o i t since
, bu t Mariann e remembered
, an d she thought Harvey did, too. Why else this nagging enmity, this
procession of little annoyances?
"Yo u giv e u p thi s graduat e degre e busines s an d d o somethin g
mor e i n keepin g wit h you r position
, an d I'l l se e abou t increasin g your allowance...." He had sneered
that polite, academic sneer, which could only remotely be interpreted as a
threat. Marianne

hadn'
t bee n abl e t o figur e ou t wha t woul d hav e bee n mor e i n
keeping with her position. What position did a poverty-stricke n heires s
have
? Grea t expectations
? Sh e ha d o n occasio n though t o f rafflin g hersel f of f o n
th e basi s o f he r Grea t Expectations
.
Perhap s temporar y matrimony
? No
. Sh e wa s to o stubborn

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. Sue
?
It was possible, of course, but Marianne felt that going to the la w t o gai
n contro l o f he r mone y woul d involv e he r i n mor e o f a
struggl e wit h Harve y tha n sh e ha d th e strengt h for
. Nope
.
I f Pap a ha d bee n a chauvinisti c Neanderthal
, Mariann e woul d pla y i t out—al l th e way
. Bu t sh e woul d no t d o i t i n squalor
, no t eve whe n student-styl e squalor d mam
. Th ha e jewelr y ha d bee n give n t o he r n Cloud-haire a d died
. S o fa r a s anyon e kne w i t wa s stil l i n th e safe-deposi t
box
. Mariann e ha d neve r wor n it . No w i t ha d gon e fo r fift y
percen t o f it s valu e t o pa y fo r thre e storie s o f dilapidate
d Italianat e bric k acros s th e stree t fro m th e university
, an d Mariann e spen t ever y availabl e hou r wit h tools or
paintbrushes in her hands. The worst of it was done.
Even the scrappy little area out front had been sodded and fringe d wit h
daffodil s fo r spring
, wit h pulmonari a an d bergeni a to bloom later, and astilbe waiting in
the wings for midsummer.
Harvey, if he ever came to Virginia to visit her, which he never had, would
find only what he could have expected— a decentl y refurbished apartment in an
elderly house. Not even Mrs. Wine-
sa p o r Mr
. Larki n kne w sh e owne d th e place
. "Mine, " sh e sai d fo r th e tent h tim e tha t day
, sinkin g a t las t int o sleep
.
There had been a time, long before, when there had been gardens lit by
daffodils fringing acres of lawn. There had been a time when there had been
many rooms, large, airy rooms with light falling into them throug h gauzy
curtain s in misty color s o f dus k an d distance
. Sometimes
, o n th e verg e o f wak
-
ing, Marianne thought of that long-ago place. There had been a plump cook
Marianne had called Tooky, even when she was old enough to have learned to say
"Mrs. Johnson." There had been an old Japanese man and his two sons who worked
in the gardens. Marianne had trotted after them in the autumn, her pocket s
bulgin g wit h tuli p bulbs
, a bul b i n eac h hand
, fascinate d by the round, solid promise of them, the polished wood feeling
of their skins, the lovely mystery of the little graves the gardener dug—wha t
wa s hi s name
? Mr
. Tanaka
. An d hi s sons
. No t
Bob, not Dick. Robert and Richard. Robert digging the round

holes, Mariann e pitchin g in the handful s of powder y bone-
meal, Rober t mixin g it all into a soft bed, then taking the bulbs fro m he
r on e b y on e t o se t the m i n a n array
. Then
, fillin g i n the hole, the hole so full of promise, knowing the promise
would be kept. And then, in the spring, the clumps of green stalks, the buds

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opening into great goblets of bloom. Marianne standing with Cloud-haired mama
to peer into those blooms, int o th e bottom s o f thos e gloriou s vase
s wher e bee s mad e bel
-
ligeren t littl e noise s o f ownershi p agains t th e yello w base s
o f the petals, a round sun glowing at the bottom of the flower to ech o th e
grea t su n burnin g abov e them
.
Mariann e didn'
t eve n remembe r it , an d ye t whe n sh e ha d bough t th e garde
n supplie s las t fall
, sh e ha d stoo d i n th e garde n shop with her hand deep in the
carton of tulip bulbs, not seeing them, unaware of her own silent presence
there. When she had pai d fo r th e plant s ther e ha d bee n tear s
runnin g dow n he r cheeks, and the sales clerk had stared at her in
perplexity, for he r voic e ha d bee n a s cal m an d cheerfu l a s i
t usuall y wa s whil e the tears ran down her cheeks and dropped off her
chin. Later, sh e looke d int o th e mirro r an d sa w th e runnel s
fro m eye s t o chin and could not think what might have caused them.
Cloud-haired mama had died when Marianne was thirteen.
That was when Harvey had... well. No point in thinking about it. After that
had been boarding schools, mostly. Papa Zahmani ha d sol d th e bi g hous
e wit h th e gardens
. Holiday s ha d bee n here, in this city, in the town house. Then, only a
year later, Papa Zahmani had died. The headmistress had told her in the offic
e a t schoo l an d ha d helpe d he r dres s an d pac k an d b e
read y for the car. Two funerals in less than a year, and no reason anyon e
coul d giv e fo r eithe r one
. N
o reaso n fo r Mam a t o hav e died. No reason for Papa to have died. Dr.
Brown acted baffled an d strained
, wit h hi s mout h clampe d shut
. Afte r tha t wa s mor e school
, an d mor e school
, an d summe r camps
, an d college
, an d mor e college
. Ther e ha d no t bee n an y hom e t o retur n to
, an d th e onl y caree r whic h occurre d t o he r wa s th e sam e
on e Harve y ha d entered—ethnology
. Whic h migh t b e anothe r reaso n fo r hi s snipin g a t her
. Harve y didn'
t lik e competition
. A
s thoug h
Mariann e woul d b e competition—thoug h someda y perhaps
, whe n sh e wa s decade s older
, i f sh e becam e recognize d i n th e field
, and..
. Well
. Sh e trie d no t t o thin k abou t it . I t wa s bette r

not to think about Cloud-haired mama, or Papa Zahmani, or
Harvey
. I t wa s easie r t o liv e i f on e wer e no t angry
, an d i t wa s easier not to be angry if she did not think about those
things.
Sh e wok e i n th e mornin g t o a worl d washe d clean
. Outsid e th e windo w th e whit e oa k ha d droppe d it s burde n

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o f winter
-
dried leaves into the wind, littering them across the spring lawns whic h
stretche d awa y betwee n swatche s o f crocu s purpl e an d ruby
walls, a syrup of emeralds, deep as an ocean under the mornin g sun
, glitterin g fro m ever y blade
. Slat e roof s glistened
, walls shone, teary windows blinked the sun into her face as sh e leane d
fro m th e windo w t o recit e th e rol l cal l o f th e place
.
Moss y walks
, present
. Daffodils
, granit e steps
, whit e columns
, ivy slickly wet and tight as thatch, a distant blaze of early rhododendrons
. Al l brigh t an d shiny-faced
, please d an d ye t dig
-
nified
, a s suc h a plac e shoul d be
, he r ow n slende r window s fronting on it so that she might soak it in,
breathe it, count it ove r lik e beads
. Ye w hedge
, present
. Tuli p tree
, present
. Th e multi-pane d window s o f th e librar y acros s th e way
; th e eas y fall of lawn down the slope to the side walk and street at the
comer.
The street. Marianne hastily glanced away, too late. A red bu s farte d awa
y fro m th e cur b i n pig-stubbor n defianc e o f imminent collision.
The shriek of crumpled metal came coin-
cident with the library chimes, and a flurry of Me Donalds wrappers lifted
from the gutter to skulk into the shrubbery.
"Damn," she murmured, starting her daily scorecard in the endles s battl e
betwee n orde r an d confusion
. "Confusion
, one
;
order
, nothing.
" B y he r ow n comple x rules
, sh e coul d no t coun t samenes orde s fo r orde campus r points
. Ther e buildings e wa s nothin , th g reall y ne w i n th e n r o
f th e
, th e gardens—n o law freshl y mowe d o r tre e newl y planted
. Sh e mad e a fac e a s sh e turne d bac k t o th e room
, hand s bus y unbraidin g th e thick
, blac k plai t whic h hun g halfwa y dow n he r back
. Th e room
, a t least
, would not contribut e to confusion . Except for the Box.
It sat half under the coffee table where she had left it, unable to bear the
thought of it lurking in the darkness of some closet or completely under the
table where she could not keep an eye on it. Better to have it out where she
could see it, know where i t was
. "Dam n Harvey, " sh e said
, startin g th e day'
s tally

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. I f she took the Box to (he basement storage room, he might decide

to come visit her. She believed, almost superstitiously , that the act of
taking the Box out of her apartment and putting it some-
wher e else
, n o matte r ho w saf e a plac e tha t migh t be
, woul d someho w stimulat e a cosmic
, reciproca l force
. I f hi s presence
, mor e tha n merel y symbolize d b y th e Box
, wer e removed
, som e galactic accountant might require him to be present in reality.
"Silly," she admonished herself, kicking the Box as she passe d it
. "Silly!
" Still
, sh e lef t i t wher e i t was
, decide d t o ignor e it , turne d o n th e televisio n se t t o
drow n ou t an y though t o f it . Despit e th e bu s crash
, th e mornin g wa s ful l o f favorabl e portents. No time to waste
thinking of Professor Harvey S.
Zahmani.
"... Zahmani," the television echoed in its cheerful-pedan-
ti c new s voice
. "M
. A
. Zahmani
, Prim e Ministe r o f Alphen
-
licht
, gues t lecture r a t severa l America n universitie s thi s spring
, prior to his scheduled appearance before the United Nations thi s week...
"
This brought her to crouch before the tube, seeing a face altogethe r
familiar
. I t wa s Harvey
. No
, i t wasn'
t Harvey
. I t looked like Harvey, but not around the mouth or eyes. The expressio n
wa s totall y different
. Excep t fo r that
, the y coul d b e
Siamese twins. Except that Harvey was up in Boston and this ma n wa s her e
a t th e universit y t o lecture..
. o n what
? O n Al
-
phenlicht, of course. She had read something about the current controvers y
ove r Alphenlich t and—wha t wa s tha t othe r tin y country? Lubovosk .
There was a
Newsweek thingy on it, and she burrowed under the table for the latest issue
as the television began a breathless account of basketball scores and piggy-
backed commercials in endless, morning babble.
"... Among the world's oldest principalities, the two tiny nations of
Alphenlich t and Lubovos k were joined until the nineteent h centur y unde r
a single
, priestl y hous e whic h trace d its origins back to the semi-mythical
Magi. A minor territorial skirmis h i n th e mid-nineteent h centur y lef
t th e norther n thir d o f th e minuscul e countr y unde r Russia n

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control
. Rename d 'Lu
-
bovosk,' the separated third now asserts legal rights to the priestly throne
of Alphenlicht , a claim stoutly opposed by Prime
Minister of Alphenlicht, Makr Avehl Zahmani.... "
There was a map showing two sausage-link-shape d terri-
tories carved out of the high mountains between Turkey and

Ira q an d a n inse t pictur e o f a dark
, hawk-eye d woma n identifie d a s th e hereditar y rule r o f
Lubovosk
. Mariann e examine d th e woma n with a good deal of interest . The face
was very familiar .
I t wa s no t precisel y he r own
, bu t ther e wa s somethin g abou t the expressio n which Mariann e had
seen in her mirror. The woman might be a cousin, perhaps. "Good lord,"
Marianne admonishe d th e picture d face
. "I
f yo u an d Russi a wan t it , wh y doesn'
t Russi a jus t invad e i t th e wa y the y di d Afghanistan?
"
Receivin g no reply, she rose to get about the business of break-
fast
. "Zahmani, " sh e mused
. Sh e ha d neve r me t anyon e wit h that name except Harvey and
herself. In strange cities, she had always looked in the phone book to see
whethe r there might be another Zahmani. Then, too, Alphenlicht was the
storybook land which had always been featured in Cloud-haired mama's bedtime
tales. Alphenlicht. Surprising, really. She had known i t wa s a rea l
place
, bu t sh e ha d neve r though t o f i t a s rea l unti l this
moment . Alphenlicht . Zahmani . "This," she sang to herself as she scrambled
eggs, "would be interesting to know more about."
When she left the apartment, her hair was knotted on her neck, she was dresse
d in a soft sweate r and tweed y skirt, and th e plac he e wa s orderl y
behin x nudgin d her
. Sh e checke d t o se e tha t sh e ha d r key
, th e Bo g he r foo t whil e sh e ignore d it , refused to see it.
Instead, she shut her eyes, turned to face the room, then popped her eyes
open. She did this every morning t o convinc e hersel f tha t sh e ha d
no t dreame d th e place
, ever y mornin g doubtin g for a momen t that it would be there. Was th e
pain t stil l th e dreamed-o n color
? Wer e th e drape s stil l sof t aroun d th e windows
, curtain s movin g jus t a littl e i n th e breeze
?
No rain today , so she left the windo w open an inch to let the sprin g i n
an d fin d i t ther e whe n sh e returned
. " I lov e you
, room," she whispered to it before leaving it. "I will bring you a po t o f
crocuse s tonight.
" Purpl e ones
. I n a blu e glaze d pot
.
She could see them in her head, as thoug h they were alread y o n th e windo
w seat
, surrounde d b y th e cushions
.

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Page 9

Bac k i n th e unremembere d time
, ther e ha d bee n a windo w seat with cushions where Marianne had
nested like a fledgling bird. Cloud-haire d mama had teased Harvey , sometimes
, and urged him to sit on the window seat with them and listen to her stories
. Mariann e had been hiding in the cushion s of the

window seat the day she had heard Mama speakin g to Harvey in the exasperated
voice she sometimes used. "Harvey, please, m y dear
, fin d yoursel f a nic e gir l you r ow n ag e an d sto p thi s
nonsense. I am deeply in love with your father, and I could not possibly be
interested in a boy your age even if I were twent differenc y again.
" O
f course ages
, ther e ha d onl y bee n seve n years
'
e i n thei r
, Mariann e reminde d herself
. Thoug h
Papa had been forty-three , Mama had been only twenty-seve n and Harve y had
been twenty . Harve y had been differen t then;
h e ha d bee n handsom e a s a prince
, an d kind
, an d the y ha d sometimes gone riding together. She shut down the thought
before it started. "Begone," she muttered to the memory. "Be burned, buried,
gone." It was her own do-it-yourself enchant-
ment, a kind of self-hypnosis , substitut e for God knew how man y thousan d
dollar s wort h o f psychotherapy
. I t worked
. Th e memor y ducke d it s hea d an d wa s gone
, an d a s sh e lef t th e room
, sh e wa s humming
.
At the confluence of three sidewalks, the library notice board was always good
for one or two order points. The bulletin board was always rigorously correct;
there were only current items upon it; matters of more than passing interest
were dec-
orousl y sleeve d i n plastic
, eve n behin d th e shelterin g glass
, t o avoi d th e appearanc e o f havin g bee n handle d o r read
. Mariann e sometime s envisione d a cre w o f compulsive
, tenure d gnome s arrivin g eac h nigh t t o updat e th e librar y
bulleti n board
. Thoug h sh e ha d worke d a t th e librar y fo r fiv e year s now
, sh e ha d neve r see n anyon e prepar e anythin g fo r th e boar d
o r pos t i t there
.
She preferred her own concept to the possible truth and did not ask about it.
"Order, one; confusion, one. Score, even," she said to her-
self
. Th e bulleti n boar d wa s i n som e respect s a n analogu e o f
her own life as she sough t to have it; neatly arranged , efficientl y
organized
, ruthlessl y protected
. Ther e wer e n o sentimenta l pos
-
ter s lef t ove r fro m sweete r seasons
, n o cartoon s savorin g ephemera l causes
, n o self-servin g announcement s b y unnec
-

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Page 10

essar y committees
. Ther e wer e onl y statement s o f fact s i n th e fewest possible,
well chosen words. She scrutinized it closely, findin g no fault in it excep t
that it was dull— a fact whic h she ignored
. I t was
, i n fact
, s o dul l tha t sh e almos t misse d th e announcement .

"Departmen t of Anthropology : Spring Lectur e Series , Jour-
neys in Ethnography . M. A. Zahmani , Magian Survivals in
Modern Alphenlicht.
April 16,12:30 p.m.-2:00 p.m. Granville
Lectur e Hall.
"
Sh e fel t a n immediat e compulsio n t o cal l Harve y an d tel l hi
m tha t a namesak e o f their s wa s t o giv e a lectur e i n thre
e hours' time on a subject dear to Harvey's heart. Not only a namesake , but a
Prim e Minister . The impuls e gave way at once to sober second thought.
Harvey would be in class at the mo-
ment. Or, if not in class, he would be in his office persuadin g som e nubil
e candidat e fo r a postgraduat e degre e tha t he r thesi s would be
immeasurably enhanced by experiencing a field trip fo r th e summe r i n
compan y wit h "Cal l M
e Har
" Zahmani
.
Whil e h e migh t b e intereste d i n learnin g o f th e visitin g
lecturer
, he would certainly be annoyed at being interrupted. Whatever
Harvey might be doing, he was always annoyed—as well she knew—at being
interrupted. On the other hand, if she did not tell him and he read about it,
as he would, in some journal or other or even, heaven help her, in the daily
paper, then she could expect one of those superior, unpleasant phone calls.
"On e woul d think
, Marianne
, tha t wit h n o mor e o n you r min d tha n you r ow n no t ver y
distinguishe d academi c work
, yo u migh t remembe r tha t i t i s m y field....
"
No. Far better to call his apartment and leave a lighthearted-
soundin g messag e on his machine . Then he would have been tol d an d woul
d no t hav e palpabl e ground s fo r offense
. Whic h di d no t mea n h e woul d no t contriv e som e suc h
grounds
, bu t she wouldn't have made it easy for him. She lifted her head in
unconscious dismissal. Thinking her way around her half brothe r often require
d that kind of dismissal . Meantime , shoul d she or shoul d she not go to the
lectur e herself ? Alphenlich t wasn't her subjec t as it was Harvey's—h e had
travele d there the same summer Mama had died. He had talked about it since
then
, mockingly
, an d abou t th e Cav e o f Light
. Well
. Fli p menta l coin. Rock back and forth on heels and toes. Bite lip. Why
not, after all? She'd had a large breakfast ; she'd simpl y skip lunch .
An d wit h tha t i t wa s bac k t o th e wars
, th e librar y stacks
, the endles s suppl y of books to be found , shelved , located , relocated
, repaired

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, an d otherwis e deal t with
. Th e work.di d

not pay well, but it was steady and quiet; it did not require an extensiv e
wardrob e o r th e expens e o f socializing
. Ther e wer e no men to be avoided, to be wary of, or suspiciou s of. No
offic e parties
. Th e hea d libraria n di d hav e th e habi t o f indulgin g i n
endless
, autobiographica l monologues
, sometime s o f aston
-
ishing intimacy, in Marianne's hearing, but with practice they coul d b e
ignored
. Ther e wer e n o collection s fo r wedding s o r babies. In the
library, Mariann e was anonymous , virtuall y un-
seen. It was a cheap, calm place to work, and Marianne valued it for what it
was.
At a quarte r past noon she left her work, smoothin g her sleeve s ove r
wrist s stil l dam p fro m a quic k was h up
. Granvill e was a small lecture hall, which meant they did not expect a
crowd. She moved through the clots of people on the steps, dodging clouds of
cigarette smoke, to find a place near the front of the hushed hall. The
speaker came in with several other people
, probabl y peopl e fro m th e Anthropolog y Department
.
Hi s fac e wa s turne d away
, th e outlin e o f hi s hea d givin g Mari
-
ann e a queer
, skittis h feeling
, a s th e departmen t spokesma n mounte d th e podiu m t o mumbl e a
fe w word s o f introduction
, sott o voce
, lik e a trouble d bee
. The n th e speake r turne d t o moun t th e platfor m an d sh e
though t i n revulsiv e panic
, "M
y
God
, i t is
Harvey
! The y go t th e initial s wrong!
" Onl y t o se e that no, it was someone else after all. Her heart began to
slow.
The choked, suffocated feeling began to fade. The first words assure d he r
tha t i t wa s someon e else
. Harvey'
s voic e wa s brittle
, sharp, full of small cutting edges and sly humors. This man's voice covered
the audience like brocade, rich and glittering.
"My name is Makr Avehl Zahmani. In my small country, whic h yo u Westerner s
cal l Alphenlicht becaus e o f a n innocen t mistake made by an
eighteenth-centur y German geographer , I
a m wha t yo u woul d cal l a Prim e Minister
. I n a countr y s o smal l as Alphenlicht, this is no great office,
though it is an honorable one which has been hereditary to my family for
almost sev-
enteen centuries... "

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Hereditar y Prim e Minister
, though t Marianne
, an d s o lik e m y hal f brothe r the y coul d hav e bee n clones
. Loo k a t him
.
Th e sam e hair
. Th e sam e eyes
. I f Alphenlich t i s indee d th e ol d countr y from which we came ,
then you are of the line from whic h w e sprang
. Harve y wouldn'
t believ e this
. I don'
t thin k

I'll try to tell him. She looked down at the notes her hand had taken
automatically, reading "Hereditary for seventeen centu-
ries ..." Ah, surely that was an exaggeration , she thought , looking up to
see his eyes upon her, as startled as hers had been to see him first. Then his
lips bent upward in intereste d surprise and went on speaking even as his look
fastened her to he r sea t an d tol d he r no t t o mov e unti l ther
e wa s tim e t o settl e this thing , this thing he had recognized .
"There is possibly only one force in human society which coul d hav e boun d
on e famil y t o s o length y a cours e o f publi c service. I speak,
of course, of religion, and it is of the religion o f Alphenlicht
, th e religio n o f ou r people
, tha t I hav e bee n aske d t o spea k t o yo u today...
"
Marianne'
s scor e betwee n orde r an d chao s wa s almos t eve n for the week,
and Marianne considered this among other things a s sh e wen t o n takin g
note s withou t thinkin g abou t it . I f thi s ma n wh o looke d s o
muc h lik e Harve y were lik e Harvey
, the n an y furthe r attentio n pai d t o hi m woul d pus h th e
confusio n score s fo r th e week—fo r th e month—beyon d an y hop e o
f recouping
.
However.
Sh e looke d dow n t o se e he r handwritin g and to underline the word.
However!
The amusement she was hearin g wa s no t Harvey'
s kin d o f mockery
. Thi s ma n ha d a gentle r mind
, perhaps
? H e woul d no t deligh t i n tyin g knot s i n on e jus yet t fo
. He'
r th e fu n o f it ? Fli p coin
, sh k befor e tol d herself I hav
, bu t no t jus t s go t som e tim e t o tal e e t o decid e whethe r
to run.
"Ou r peopl e serv e th e go d o f tim e an d space
. Ou r nam e fo r this deity is Zurvan, One-Who-Includes-Everything . My
own famil y name, Zahman, means
'space. '
In the early centuries, B.C., during the height of the Persian Empire, our
people were centered in the lands north of Ecbatana, among the Medes. We were
known as the Magi..."
So this is a Magus? Black hair, a little long, flowing over hi s impeccabl e
shir t collar
. Narro w face

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, imperiou s nose
, hig h arching
, ver y mobil e brows
. Sensua l mouth
, sh e thought
, fol
-
lowed at once by the enchantment words, buried, burned, gone.
She would not think about sensual mouths. She wrote 'Magi,'
underlined it twice, then looked up to find his eyes eagerly upon her again.
His chin was paler than the rest of his face, a s thoug h h e ha d recentl
y shave d a beard
. Sh e narrowe d he r

eyes to imagin e him with a beard , and a pictur e flashed —
glittering robes, tall hat, beard in oiled ringlets. She shook her head to rid
it of this We-Three-King s stuff. Beard, she wrote, questio n mark
. Wh y di d h e g o o n lookin g a t he r lik e that
?
Because, said the internal monitor, the one Marianne called old
sexless-logical , just as you recognize a family likeness in him, he
recognizes one in you. Obviously.
Obviously, she wrote, listening.
"Our religion is monotheistic , though not sexist, for Zurvan is both male and
female. In our own language , we have pro-
nouns which convey this omni-sexualit y (I say 'omni' to allow for the possibl
e discover y of some extra terrestria l race which needs more than two)"—polit
e laughter from audience—"bu t in your languag e you must make allowance s
when I say 'from his womb'... "
Wombmates
, sh e wrot e busily
, the n scratche d i t out
. Allow
-
in g fo r th e differenc e i n sex
, i t wa s possibl e h e recognize d he r i n th e sam e wa y sh e
ha d recognize d him
. Sam e eyes
, nose
, hair, eyebrows . Same mouth .
"W
e recognize d man y attribute s o f thi s divin e unity
, bu t there was a tendenc y for this recognitio n to be corrupte d into mer
e idolatr y o r a pervasiv e dualism
. Thi s wa s convenien t fo r kings who needed to incorporate all the
little godlets of the conquere d int o th e stat e religion
. Ther e bega n t o b e priest s an d prophets, some even calling
themselves Magi, who turned away from the pure, historic religion."
He'
s abou t forty
, sh e thought
. Mayb e a fe w year s olde r tha n that
. Th e sam e ag e a s Harvey
. Wh o shoul d hav e remaine d a n onl y child
. Wh o woul d hav e remaine d a n onl y chil d excep t that Papa
Zahman i fell for my Cloud-haire d mama and the two o f the m wen t of f
int o eternity
, unfortunatel y leavin g m e behind
.

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From Harvey' s point of view. Not that he had ever actuall y said anything of
the kind.
"In the third century A.D. there were widesprea d charges o f heres y brough
t b y on e Karder
, a pries t servin g th e curren t
Sassani d king
. Karde r espouse d a mor e libera l faith
, on e whic h coul kin Th d incorporat e an y numbe r o f politica i
difficul first l realities
. H
e an d th e g foun d th e Zurvania n Mag t to.. th
. ah
, manipulate
.
e charge s o f heres y wer e mad e
, o n e ground s tha t th e king'
s religio n wa s th e correc t one
, an d th e persecution s cam e

after. My people fled north, into the mountains... "
He was turning to the map on the easel, putting on glasses to peer at it a
little nearsightedly , taking them off to twiddle them
, lik e Professo r Fran k i n ethno-geography
. Lik e ol d Wil
-
liams. Lord, he could be any teacher, any professor. Why did she feel this
fascination ?
"Th e are a i s no w calle d Kurdistan
, nea r wha t wa s Armenia
.
The borders of many modern nations twist themselves together i n thi s
region—Turkey
, Iran
, Iraq
, Syria
, th e U.S.S.R.—o f which I will have more to say later. In the midst of
this tangled, inaccessible region, my people established a theocracy a mil-
lenium and three quarters ago. There were no roads into the countr y then
. Ther e i s on e enterin g ou r countr y now
, fro m th e vicinit y o f Van
, i n Turkey
. Ther e i s another
, no t s o good
, fro m th e are a aroun d Lak e Urmi a i n Iran
. W
e hav e n o airport
, thoug h w e hav e improve d th e roa d durin g th e las t decades
, t o accom
-
modate those who seek the Cave of Light..."
I f h e talk s abou t th e Cav e o f Ligh t a s endlessl y a s
Harve y talk s abou t th e Cav e o f Light
, I wil l simpl y ge t u p i n a dignifie d manner and leave, she
thought. As though I have to get to class
. A
s thoug h I wer e lat e fo r a n appointmen t wit h th e dean
.
He went on talking about the Cave of Light, and she didn't move
. He r han d wen t o n takin g notes

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Page 15

, quietly
, automatically
, while she sat there and let the words flow through. Harvey called the Cave
of Light a kind of historic Ouija board. Makr
Aveh l Zahman i obviousl y though t i t wa s mor e tha n that—
a good deal more than that. I can't be taking this seriously, she thought
.
Magi, fo r God'
s sake
. Magians
, magicians
, magic
.
Lord.
"Several generations ago the czars of Russia extended their border s i n
severa l areas
. On e suc h extensio n cu t ou r smal l countr y int o tw o parts
. Th e norther n thir d o f i t wa s gobble d up into Russia and
renamed Lubovosk. The Magi who live in
Lubovos k ar e stil l ou r people
, ou r separate d people
. The y no w have their own charges of heresy to contend with. In seventeen
hundre d year s no t tha t muc h ha s changed
. Now
, I hav e use d m y allotte d time
. I f an y o f yo u hav e questions
, pleas e fee l fre e to come forwar d and ask them of me."
Sh e di d no t mov e durin g th e light
, appreciativ e applause
.
He had been a good speaker. The hall emptied. A half-dozen

argumentativ e students went forward to pick at details of his talk. She sat.
Even when the arguer s went away and the speake r cam e towar d her
, sh e sa t a s h e scanne d he r fac e quarte r inc h b y quarte r
inch
, shiverin g betwee n smil e an d frown
.
"My dear young woman," he said, "I believe we must be related."
Sh e coul d no t afterwar d remembe r quit e ho w i t happene d tha t
sh e accompanie d hi m t o th e onl y goo d restauran t nearb y and
found hersel f drinkin g a third or fourth glass of wine as sh e finishe d
he r dessert h e sparkle
. Sh e seeme d t o hav e bee n listenin g t o hi m fo r hour s a s d
an d glittered
, tellin g he r marvelou s things about marvelous places and people.
Somethin g he said mad e he r commen t o n he r gam e o f muddl e
versu s orde r an d her lifetim e cumulativ e score.
"Confusio n is winning, " she admitted . "Not so far ahead that one gives up
all hope, but far enough to make me very anxious
. I t use s u p a lo t o f energy.
"
"Ah," he said, wipin g his lips with his napkin before reach-
in g ou t t o touc h he r hand
. "D
o you r rule s allo w transfe r o f points?"
"I don't understand . What do you mean, transfer?"
"Well, my own lifetime cumulativ e score is somewhat better than yours. I have
several thousand points ahead for order. Of course, I have an advantage

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Page 16

because of the Cave of Light—
no . Don'
t sa y tha t yo u don'
t believ e i n it , o r tha t it' s al l terribl y interesting
, but...
. Al l tha t isn'
t reall y relevant
. I simpl y wan t t o kno w i f you r rule s allo w transfe r o f
points
, because
, i f the y do, I will transfe r a thousan d points to you. This will take
off the immediat e pressure , and perhaps you can strengthe n your position
sufficientl y to mount a counterattack. "
If there had been any hint of amusemen t in his voice, even of a teasing sort,
she would have laughe d politely and—what ?
Accepted
? Rejected
? Sai d somethin g abou t on e havin g t o pla y one's own hand? The
surface Marianne , well educated in the superficia l socia l graces
, coul d hav e handle d that
. However
, thi s di d no t soun d lik e a socia l offer
. Th e ton e wa s tha t o f a n arm s contro l negotiato r placin g
befor e th e assembl y th e positio n of his government . It reminde d her
that she was speakin g with a Prime Minister , all too seriously , and yet how
wonderfu l to be ahead for a while . A gift of such magnitude , however , migh
t

carr y a n obligation
.
Begone, buried, sh e whispere d t o herself
.
"It'
s to o much, " sh e whispere d t o him
, completel y serious
.
" I migh t no t b e abl e t o repay.
"
"Kinswoman, " h e said
, layin g hi s han d upo n hers
, th e tingl e o f tha t contac t movin g int o he r lik e a smal l
lightnin g stroke
, shockin g an d intimate
. "Kinswoman
, ther e i s n o obligation
.
Believ e me
. I f yo u kno w nothin g els e o f me
, i f w e d o no t mee t again
, kno w thi s o f me
. Ther e i s n o obligation.
"
"But—
a thousand
. S o much?
"
"I t i s importan t t o m e tha t m y kinswoma n wi n he r battles
, that she be decisivel y ahead . That she be winnin g and know hersel f t o
b e winning.

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Page 17

"
"But it wouldn't be me who was winning."
"Nonsense. If a gunner at the top of a hill uses all his ammunition and an
ally rushes ammunition to him at a critical time, it is still the gunner who
wins if he keeps his head and uses all his skill. He has merely been
reinforced. We are kins-
men, therefore allies. You will forgive me if I do not say
'kinspersons.
' I learne d m y Englis h i n a mor e elegan t setting
, in a more elegant time. However, you need not decide at this moment
. Merel y remembe r tha t i t i s important t o m e tha t yo u win.
There is no obligation beyond that. You would favor me b y accepting.
" An d h e lef t th e subject
, t o tal k instea d o f Al
-
phenlicht
, o f hi s boyhoo d there
, bein g ligh t an d gracious
.
When they parted, it was like waking from a dream. Frag-
ment s o f thei r conversatio n fle d acros s he r min d onl y t o
dis
-
sipate
. Th e lectur e hall
, th e restauran t assume d drea m scal e an d color
. Whe n sh e turne d t o se e th e restauran t stil l behin d her,
solid and ordinary as any other building on the street, it wa s wit h a
sens e o f detache d unreality
. Sh e attende d a class
, took notes, entered into the discussion, and did not remember i t fiv e
minute s later
. Sh e wen t t o he r apartment
, stoppin g o n th e wa y t o sho p fo r foo d an d milk
, an d stoo d insid e i t holdin g the paper sack withou t knowin g where
she was. It was a square , white envelope on the carpet that brought her to
herself at last, he r nam e writte n o n i t i n a quick
, powerfu l hand
. Th e messag e read, "I have transferred one thousand order points to you.
If you do not wish to receive them, you may return them to me.
Ma y I hav e th e pleasur e o f you r compan y a t dinne r o n
Thursda y night? I will call you tomorrow. Makr Avehl."

Whe n sh e touche d th e envelope
, sh e receive d th e sam e tinglin g shock she had felt from his hand ,
but as she read the words, most of the cloudy confusio n vanished .
"He did give me a thousand points," she told herself, know-
ing with certainty that it was true. "I've got them, I can tell I
have, " knowin g tha t sh e no t onl y ha d the m bu t ha d accepte
d them. If she had not had them, she would have been too con-
fused to accept them. Now that she had them, she knew she woul d kee p them
. "It'
s lik e a n anti-depressant, " sh e sai d t o herself, caroling , doing
a little jig on the carpet so that the groceries ripped their way through the
bottom of the brown bag and rolled about on the rug, oranges and lemons and
brown-
and-serv e rolls
. "Befor e yo u tak e it , you'r e to o depresse d t o wan t it .
Afte r yo u tak e it , yo u kno w i t wa s wha t yo u needed.

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Page 18

"
Ther e was
, o f course
, on e smal l confusion
. He r doo r ha d bee n tightl y locked
. N
o on e ha d a ke y excep t herself
. How
, then
, ha d th e squar e whit e envelop e com e t o res t i n th e middl
e o f th e carpet
, wher e sh e coul d no t fai l t o se e i t bu t wher e n o on e
coul d possibl y hav e pu t it ?
Magus
, sh e hummed
. Magi
, Magian
, Magician
.

THER
E WA
S A knoc k a t th e door
. Someon e turne d th e kno b an d
Mariann e heard Mrs. Winesap' s voice.
"Girl? I heard you coming in. Someone brought you a pretty."
Mrs. Winesap was addicted to slightly regional speech, the region in questio n
varyin g from day to day so that Mariann e wa s neve r sur e whethe r th e
woma n wa s fro m th e South
, West
, o r Ne w Englan d states
. O
n occasion
, Mrs
. Winesap'
s speec h approached an Elizabethan richness, and Marianne thought the true
sourc e of her changin g accen t migh t be overdose s of BBC
period imports.
"Mrs. Winesap. Come on in. What is it?"
"Crocuses, " th e woma n replied
. "I
n a prett y pot
. A
ma n brought them. I was out front, and he came along looking lost, so I asked
him who he was looking for. After he told me they wer e fo r you
, w e go t t o talking
. I though t a t firs t h e migh t b e your brother, there being a
family resemblance and my eyes not being that good. Then I knew that was
silly, your brother being the kind of person he is and all."
Marianne had never discussed Harvey with Mrs. Winesap that she could recall,
and her attention was so fixed on the gift

tha t sh e completel y misse d th e implication s o f thi s statement
.
Mrs. Winesap often seemed to know a great deal about Harvey or , perhap s
mor e accurately
, kne w a grea t dea l abou t peopl e an d thing s tha t affecte d
Marianne

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Page 19

.
"The man who brough t these is... he's a kind of cousin, I
guess
, Mrs
. Winesap
. I me t hi m today
. I t wa s nic e o f hi m t o b e s o thoughtful.
" Th e crocuse s wer e precisel y a s sh e ha d visualized them, purple
ones, in a glazed pot of deepest, persian blue.
"Sam e nam e a s yours
, s o I guesse d h e wa s som e kin d o f kin, " commente d Mrs
. Winesap
. "Anyhow
, h e lef t th e flower s with me after he made me promis e six times I'd
see you got them as soon as you got home. Seemed like a very determine d sort
of person. You got something cold to drink, Marianne? I
been movin g that dirt out back, and it's hotter' n Hades for
April."
Mariann e hid a smile as she went to the refrigerator . It was true that Mrs.
Winesap was a bit dirt-smeared, and also true tha t sh e wa s largel y
responsibl e fo r th e emergin g orde r i n th e garden
, bu t i t wa s no t eve n war m fo r April
, muc h les s hot
.
Mrs
. Winesa p simpl y wante d t o talk
.
"Larkin bought an edger at the flea market . Paid a dollar an d a hal f fo
r it . Wan t t o g o halfies?
" Thi s wa s rhetorical
.
Mr
. Larki n woul d presen t Mariann e wit h a writte n bil l fo r
seventy-fiv e cents
, whic h Mariann e woul d pa y withou t demur
.
Sometime s Mariann e believe d tha t th e tw o downstair s tenant s
suspecte d Mariann e owned the place and were playing a game with her. Other
times she was sure they had no idea. Whatever thei r suspicion s o r lac k
thereof
, the y ha d decide d tha t garde n maintenanc e wa s t o b e thei r
particula r responsibility
, an d tha t the upstairs tenant should pay what they delighte d in calling
"halfies.
" Sinc e th e expenditure s neve r exceede d tw o o r thre e dollar s
a t a time
, Mariann e manage d t o cope
.
"A
n edger?
" sh e asked
.
"You know. A flat blade on a handle, to cut the grass straight where it comes
along the flower garden . It was all rusty is how come he got it so cheap. You
know Larkin. Give him something rusty and he's happy as a clam all day
cleaning it up. Does your brother know this cousin of yours?"
As usual with Mrs. Winesap's more personal inquiries, the

question caught Marianne completely by surprise and she an-

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swered it before she thought. "No. I just met him today myself."
"Ah," said Mrs. Winesap with deep satisfaction. "So you'll have to call your
brothe r and tell him about it. Abou t meetin g a new relativ e and all."
The emotio n Mariann e felt was the usual one, half laughter , hal slightl f
indignation
. He r respons s a matte e wa r o f fact s als o th e usua l one t
goin
: dignified
, y cool
. "Yes
, a
, I wa s jus g t o cal l
Harvey, Mrs. Winesap. Take that soda along with you. I do need to catch him
before he leaves for the evening.... " Polite, firmly shutting door behind her
visitor, Mariann e fought down the urge to peer throug h the keyhol e at the
landin g in fear she migh t se e Mrs
. Winesap'
s ey e peerin g bac k a t her
. Instea d sh e went to the phone, moved both by her assertion and the need
to leave some kind of message.
Harvey alway s considere d it an intrusio n for Mariann e to tell him
anything. Nonetheless, he would deeply resent not being told. A quick message
on his machine would be the least risky way of informin g him, and if she
avoide d answerin g the phone for a while after that, he migh t see Makr Aveh
l Zahmani' s name on the news and realiz e that Mariann e was, in fact, only
tellin g hi m th e truth
. I t wa s par t o f Harvey'
s usua l treatmen t of her to accuse her of making up stories, as though she
were still seven years old, and once committed to the assertion that she was
fabricating it would be hard for him to back off. She encourage d herself to
take a deep breath and do it, managin g to make the message sound calm and
good-humored. She un-
plugged the phone with a sense of relief. She didn't want to hea r i t rin g
i f h e calle d he r back
.
"I am ahead on points, " she told herself. "Well ahead, and
I have no intentio n of ever getting behind again." She tried the pot of
crocuses in various places, finally putting them on the window seat as she had
originally intended, then threw together a fe w scrapp y bite s o f
supper
. Whe n sh e ha d finished
, sh e started to take the dishes into the kitchen, stumbling unex-
pectedly over somethin g which was not supposed to be there.
The Box.
I t wa s a t th e edg e o f th e kitche n counter
, wher e sh e coul d not avoid stepping over it, where she must have
already stepped ove r i t whil e preparin g he r mea l withou t seein g
it , withou t

remembering
. Sh e stare d a t i t i n confusion
. Tha t morning
—
yes, that morning it had been in the living room under the coffee table. Who
could have moved it? Mrs. Winesap? Perhaps ou t o f som e desir e t o
help
, som e instinc t t o tid y up
? Wit h a grimac e o f actua l pai n sh e lifte d i t bac k t o th
e plac e sh e las t remembered it being, half under the table, possessed in

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Page 21

that moment by a completely superstitious awe and fear.
The Box was a symbolic embodyment of Harvey-ness. If she gave him cause for
disturbance up in Boston, then the Box would take it out on her down here in
Virginia. She knew this wa s ridiculou s bu t wa s a s firml y convince
d o f i t a s sh e wa s o f he r ow n name
. He r moo d o f valian t contentmen t destroyed
, she went about her evening chores in a mood of dogged irri-
tation
. Sound s bothere d her
. Traffic
. Mrs
. Winesa p rattlin g th e trash cans. Doors closing. A phone ringing. Mrs.
Winesap laboring up the stairs and a repetition of that firm, brook-no-
nonsense knock, the knob turning, her voice.
"Girl, your brother called our phone. Says he's been trying to reach you and
can't get an answer." Broad face poked around th e edg e o f th e door
, eye s frankl y curiou s a s th e fac e wa s frankl y friendly .
"Oh—shit, " said Marianne , breakin g her own rules con-
cerning language and behavior.
Mrs. Winesap pulled a parody of shock over her face. She had heard Marianne's
lecture on scatology directed more than onc e a t Mr
. Larkin
. "Go t th e phon e unplugged
, haven'
t you?
"
Marianne nodded in dismal annoyance. "How did he know to call you? He's never
been here. He's never even met you."
"Yes, he did. Came by one day about two weeks ago. Told m e h e wa s you r
brother
. Introduce d himself
. Course
, I intro
-
duce d mysel f back
. W
e talke d some.
"
"You... talked some."
"I told him it was a nice day," she reported with dignity, "an d I tol d hi
m yo u weren'
t i n you r apartmen t bu t I' d b e gla d to take a message. He pumped
me all about you, and I let him know I was blind in both eyes and couldn't
hear out of either ear. Did tell him my name, though, and I'm in the book."
"You never told me."
"No reason to. Why upset you? I didn't like him, so I figure d

yo u probabl y didn'
t either
. H e wa s al l ove r sparkl e lik e a merry
-
go-round horse, expecting anyone with a—with breasts to fall down and play
dead."
"Oh." This was precisely Marianne's view of Harvey, but she had not thought it
generally shared. This explained why
Mrs. Winesap had at first thought Makr Avehl was her brother.
"So, he knew your name and looked you up in the book."
"Mos t likely
. Anyhow

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Page 22

, jus t no w I tol d hi m th e reaso n yo u didn't answer was you
weren't in and I'd be glad to leave a message for you to call him. Consider
message delivered. OK?
Seemed best."
"Thanks, Mrs. Winesap."
"One of these days, girl, you'll get tired of calling me 'Mrs.
Winesap, ' an d th e nam e 'Letitia
' wil l jus t sli p out
. I won'
t mind
, wheneve r tha t is.
" Sh e shu t th e doo r firml y behin d her
, leavin g Mariann e i n som e limb o betwee n laughte r an d tears
.
The door opened again to allow Mrs. Winesap to deliver hersel f o f a n
utterance
.
"Marianne, whatever it is you don't like about that man, brother or not, you
got a right. Don't you sit up here feeling guilty because you don't like him."
This time tears won.
Oh
, yes
, sh e di d fee l guilt y abou t it . Th e onl y famil y sh e had
left, the only kin, and she frequently wanted him gone.
"Begone, burned, buried," she chanted quietly. If there was any actual guilt,
it was Harvey's, not Marianne's, but knowing this didn't seem to make the
horrid nagging weight of it any easier disparat
. Sh e ofte n trie d t o reduc e th e whol e conflic t t o on e o f
e personalities
. "H
e i s domineering, " sh e tol d herself
, "and authoritarian. He relishes power, and he uses it, but he is not some
all-devouring monster." Saying this did not con-
vince her this time any more than it had before.
"So, I'll return his call," she told herself, plugging in the phon e an d
tappin g hi s numbe r wit h hesitan t fingers
.
"Harvey
? Returnin g you r call?
" Sh e listene d wit h sup
-
pressed, seething warmth as he complained that she had not bee n i n earlier
, tha t sh e shoul d no t leav e message s o n hi s machin e unles s
sh e woul d b e availabl e t o tak e a call
, that—
.
"Harvey, I am sorry. I didn't intend that you should have

to take the trouble to call me. I just wanted you to know about th e Zahman i
Prim e Ministe r fro m Alphenlicht
. I though t you'
d be interested."
Oil y sweet
, th e voic e sh e hated
. "Bitsy
? Ar e yo u playin g one of those infantile 'let's pretend' games again?"
Sh e hear d he r ow n voic e replying
, "Harvey
, hol d o n a mo

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Page 23

-
ment, will you? Someone's at the door." She took a deep breath, strode to the
door, opened it, closed it, mumbled to herself, struc k th e wal l wit h
he r hand
. He r usua l respons e t o hi m unde r lik e circumstance s woul d
hav e bee n somethin g ful l o f self
-
doubt
, somethin g cringing
.
Harvey, I
don't thin k so.
He really did look as though he was related.
He really did say...
She returned to the phone. "Harve. Someone has come and
I hav e t o g o now
. I f yo u catc h th e new s tonigh t o r tomorrow
, you'll probably see the Prime Minister on it. He's here to speak a t th e
U.N
. Sorr y I hav e t o run.
" An d hun g u p o n Harve y S .
Zahman i withou t waitin g fo r permission
.
He would not want to appear foolish, not even to her. Give him time to find
out that what she had told him was the simple truth, and he'd be less likely
to take some irrevocably punitive decisio n abou t mone y matters—alway s
hi s las t argumen t whe n others failed. She unplugged the phone again,
resolving not to connec t hersel f t o th e worl d agai n unti l
morning
. "On e mor e poin t fo r order, " sh e sighed
. "Scor e fo r order
, fo r th e day
, on e thousan d and one."
In the morning , she forgot to connec t the phone . When she got home, it was
ringing. There was no time to think who?
How
? Sh e kne w i t wa s Mak r Aveh l an d answere d i t withou t a
qualm. "Thank you for the flowers," she said, her voice slipping sideway s
int o childlik e pleasure
.
"Yo u sai d yo u intende d t o sho p fo r some, " h e replied
, "bu t
I knew you wouldn't have time yesterday if you were in class.
I took most of your afternoon, so it was only proper to repay."
His voice was enthusiastic, warm. It changed suddenly. "I was i n Ne w Yor k
today
, a t th e U.N
. I me t you r brother
. He'
s ver y like you in appearance."
"Harvey's in Boston," she said. "Not at the U.N. You can't have—"
"Sorry," he laughed. "I didn't lead up to it. A woman named
Madam e Delubovosk a an d I ar e o n opposit e side s o f a ver y

small internationa l issue. Madame and I are related. Madame , it turns out,
is your half-brother' s aunt, his mother's much younger sister. Today, in New
York, your half-brother was visitin g hi s aun t an d I me t him
. I s tha t somewha t mor e clear
?

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Page 24

I sai d h e muc h resemble d you.
"
"It's you he resembles, actually. When I first saw you, I
though t yo u wer e Harvey.
"
"That's true. You even said so." There was a long silence, a calculatin g
silence
. "Marianne
, ma y I com e se e you?
"
"You'r e i n Ne w York.
"
"No
. I wa s i n Ne w York
. I' m abou t tw o block s fro m you
, i n a phon e booth.
"
"Well, of course. Yes. Can you find the house—oh , you've alread y bee n her
e once.
"
"I'll find you." Dry-voiced , humorous , amused at her con-
fusion
. Sh e pu t he r hand s agains t he r flamin g face
. I t too k practice to behave with calm and poise around men like Makr
Avehl—aroun d men at all. Marianne had not practiced, had n o intentio n o f
practicing
, fo r sh e ha d decide d no t t o nee d suc h skill. She told herself
that just now her concern s were house-
wifely. She hadn't dusted, hadn't vacuume d since the weekend .
Well
, i t didn'
t loo k cluttered
, excep t fo r th e Box
. Bette r leav e it, even if he noticed it.
Ther e wa s nothin g i n th e hous e t o offe r hi m excep t som e
sherr y an d chees e an d crackers
. Well
, h e couldn'
t complain
, droppin g i n unexpectedl y thi s way
. Quic k loo k i n th e mirror
, quic k was h u p o f hand s an d face
. N
o tim e fo r makeup
. N
o nee d wit h tha t hecti c flus h o n lip s an d cheeks
. "Lord, " sh e thought , "one would think I had never had anyon e drop in
before." A moment's thought would have told her the truth of this. There had
been no one to drop in. Except for Mrs. Wine-
sap. And the plumber. And the phone man. And people of that ilk
. Th e stair s creake d outsid e he r door
.
He stood there in a soft shirt and jeans, not at all like a
Prime Minister, perhaps more like her childhood dream of a fair y tal e
prince
.
"You didn't bring your horse and lance," she said, caught up in the fantasy .
"Th e jous t isn'
t unti l later, " h e replied
, "unles s yo u hav e a drago n you wan t skewere d in the next half hour?

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" She was so

involve d in the story she was telling hersel f that it did not seem i n th e
leas t remarkabl e tha t h e ha d rea d he r mind
. Laughing
, she wave d him in.
The y dran k sherr y an d at e cheese
. Mak r Aveh l sprawle d o n th e windo w sea t an d wave d hi s
finge r i n he r fac e a s h e lecture d on the day's events. "I made my
speech. Madame made her speech. Neithe r of us convince d the other. I will
now bore you greatly by telling you what the dispute is about?" There was an
interrogativ e silence, not long, for she was happy to let him carry the burde
n of their conversation . "Madam e and I are cousins, of the same lineage, you
understand . When our land was cut into two part s in the last century—a s the
resul t of som e mino r Czaris t expansio n o r other
, utterl y unimportan t an d long forgotten except to those of us directly
involved—Tahiti' s great-grandfathe r wa s i n th e norther n piec e o f
th e countr y an d my great-grandfathe r was in the southern part. They were
broth-
ers. You heard my little speech the other day, so you know tha t Alphenlich t
i s a theocracy.
" H
e bi t a cracke r noisily
, ex
-
amining her face. "Don't wrinkle your nose so. There are nice theocracies, and
ours is one. We are not reactionary or au-
thoritarian
; w e d o no t insis t upo n conformit y o r observatio n o f
taboos." He raised one triangular brow at her, giving her a brillian t smile ,
and she felt hersel f turnin g to hot liquid from he r nave l t o he r
knee s a s he r fac e flamed
.
Sh e rose
, mad e unnecessar y trip s wit h glasses
, ra n col d wate r ove r he r wrist s i n th e kitchen
.
H e wen t on
. "A
t an y rate
, i n th e souther n hal f o f Alphen
-
licht, things went on very much as they had for a very long time. We did begin
sending some of our young people out of th e countr y t o b e educated
, an d w e di d begi n t o impor t som e engineer s t o d o mode m
thing s lik e buildin g road s an d bridges
.
We also imported a few motor vehicles, though certain of the
Kavi, that is, member s of the priesthood , questione d that much innovation."
"I thought you said you were not reactionary? " She managed t o soun d
matter-of-fac t rathe r tha n sultry
, wit h som e effort
.
"Oh, it wasn't a question of religion. It was a question of aesthetics
. Som e member s o f th e Counci l simpl y fel t tha t car s an d
truck s smelle d ver y bad
. Ther e wer e lon g argument s con
-
cerning utility versus aesthetics . I've read them. Very dull.

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Page 26

"T o continu e wit h m y tale
: Th e narro w pas s whic h connecte d
Alphenlich t an d Lubovos k wa s controlle d b y Russia n borde r
guards. Over the past hundred years interaction between the two parts of the
countr y has been very much restricted . Acces s to the Cave of Light has been
almost impossible for people from the north. Since they had been accustomed to
using the cave, they evolved their own substitutes. People do find ways t o
ge t answer s t o importan t questions
. Their s involve d a heav y admixture of shamanistic influences."
"I thought shamans were from—oh, the far north."
"Some are. Some are found in Turkey. The black shamans who came to Lubovosk
did happen to be from the far north.
Well
, a t thi s poin t w e ma y mak e a lon g stor y short
. Fou r generation s afte r th e separation
, a grou p o f peopl e i n Lubovosk
, supported by the U.S.S.R. for obvious reasons, has decided that Lubovosk,
not Alphenlicht, is the true heir to the religious leadershi p o f bot h
countries
. The y bas e thi s o n th e fac t tha t
Madame's great-grandfather was my great-grandfather's older brother
. The y convenientl y ignor e th e fac t tha t afte r severa l
generation s o f re-educatio n an d shamanisti c influences
, there'
s n o on e i n Lubovos k wh o eve n pretend s t o believ e i n
religion
, a prerequisite
, on e woul d think
, i f a theocrac y i s t o work
. Th e
U.S. State Department supports us, of course. Russia supports
Lubovosk's ridiculous claim. No one else cares. So we have gone through this
charade. When it was all over, some of the delegates woke up and went on with
their business. Everyone was very bored. The only two people present who took
it seriously were Madame and I. Do you know Tahiti? She is named
, b y th e way
, fo r th e fir e goddes s o f ou r ancestors
. No t inappropriately. "
"Madame Delubovoska ? No. I never knew she existed until a few days ago."
"As I told you, she is a kind of back side kin of yours. You can imagine how
surprised I was when she introduced Professor
Zahman i t o me
. I kne w a t onc e wh o h e was
, o f course
, fo r you had told me about him."
"Not too much, I hope," she said in astonishment . "I cer-
tainly never thought you'd meet him...."
"Ah. Well, it turned out fortuitously. I had just invited Ma-
dame to the country place we have taken here when she intro-

duce d m e t o you r brother
. S o I invite d hi m a s well
, intendin g that you, also, should be my guest."
"Oh
. With..
. Harvey
? I don't...

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" Sh e di d no t kno w wha t t o say
. Th e though t stunne d an d horrifie d her
, an d he r voic e betrayed the emotions. There was a strained silence.
" I se e I hav e mad e a mistake, " h e sai d wit h obviou s dis
-
comfort and an expression almost of dismay. "There is some-
thin g awkward
? Yo u d o no t lik e him?
"
"I—I'm probably very childish. It's just—he's quite a bit olde r tha n I .
H
e wa s lef t rathe r i n charg e o f m y affair s whe n
Papa Zahmani died. He is not..."
"Not sympathetic."
"No
. No
, yo u ma y truthfull y sa y tha t h e i s no t sympathetic
.
Not where his little sister is concerned."
"But it's more than that? Even when I said I had met him, there was a certain
quality in your silence. It is something which makes you reluctant to meet him
at all?"
"I t i s awkward, " sh e admitted
. "Sometime s I interpre t thing s h e doe s an d say s as—threatening
. H
e ma y no t inten d the m i n that way. And yet..."
He was looking at her in a curiously intent way, not inti-
mately, more as though he found her a fascinating item of study.
The perusa l did not make her feel insulte d or invaded , as men's thoughtfu l
glance s sometime s did
, bu t sh e fel t th e questin g pressure of his gaze as an urgent
interest, impossible to ignore.
It was suddenly important that he know how she felt... and why. Particularly
why.
Sh e reache d dow n an d tugge d th e Bo x fro m beneat h th e table,
pushing it toward him so that it rested against his well polished shoes. "Look
in that. Everythin g in there is something
Harvey has given me over the last several years. Presents.
Together with suggestions as to where to display them. I
couldn't..
. couldn'
t brin g mysel f t o pu t the m out
, no t here
, so I've kept them in this box."
He put down his glass. She had not sealed the Box, but had merely closed the
cardboard carton by folding the top together.
He opened it and drew out the two framed prints which lay on top, setting them
side by side against the table and regarding them with the same intent gaze he
had focused on her.
T o th e righ t wa s a cheapl y frame d prin t o f a n Esche r lith
-

ograph, an endless ribbon of black fishes and white birds swim-
min othe three g i n space e white
, a t on e en d th e blac k figure s emerging
, a t th e r th , fro
, comin g forwar d fro m tw o dimension s int o e m shado w shape s
int o breathin g reality
, on e whit bird flying free of the patter n only to be cruell y killed by

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Page 28

the devilis h fangs of the metalli c black fish.
"I t bothere d m e whe n h e gav e i t t o me
. So
, on e da y a t th e library, I looked it up," she said, trying to be
unemotional .
Everythin g in her screame d anger at the black fish, but she was so long
experience d in swallowin g her anger that she be-
lieve d i t di d no t show
. "Th e artis t wrot e tha t th e bir d wa s al l innocence , doomed
to destruction . Not exactly cheerful , but b y itsel f i t shouldn'
t hav e mad e m e fee l a s unpleasan t a s I did
.
Then I got the other one..."
He turned his attention to the other print, this one of a painting
. "Pau l Delvaux, " murmure d Mak r Avehl
. "Title d
Chrysis.
Well.
"
A nake d gir l stoo d o n a lonel y platfor m a t th e edg e o f a
n abandoned town, a blonde, her scanty pubic hair scarcely shad-
owin a s thoug g he r crotch jus
, eye s downcast
, lac y rob e drape righ floodligh d behin d he r h t falle T o th n
fro e lef m he r shoulders e pictur
, t han d holdin g a lighte d candle
.
t o f th e a t thre w har d shadows against a dark building . On a
distant siding, a freight ca r crouched
, re d light s o n i t gleamin g lik e hungry
, fera l eye s in the dark.
"She'
s lik e th e whit e bir d i n th e othe r picture, " Mariann e said.
"All alone. Totally vulnerable. She has no protection at all. Nothing. Someone
horrible is coming. You can tell she knows it. She is trying to pretend that
she is dreaming , but she isn't."
"Ah," he said. "Is there more?"
She reached into the bottom of the Box to pull out the little carving s o f
ivory
, basalt
, soap s tone
. Eskim o an d Bant u an d old othe
, ol d oriental
. Strange A
, hulke d shapes
, littl e demons
. An devil
-
r blac k fish
.
whit e skull-face d ghost
. A
n ebon y
.
A smal l ornamente d ba g mad e o f staine d an d tattere d ski n
wit h some dry, whispery material inside. "I don't know what's in it," she
said, apologetically . "I didn't want to open it. Harvey said it was a witch
bag. Somethin g from Siberia ? I think his car d sai d i t belonge d t o
a shaman.
"

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Page 29

"Yes, " sai d Mak r Aveh l soberly
. " I shoul d thin k i t probabl y did. And should never have left
Siberia. It is black shamans fro m ther e wh o hav e com e t o Lubovosk.
"
"All these things are interesting, in a way. Even the little bag
, colore d an d patterne d th e wa y i t is
. I fee l a littl e guilt y t o b e s o ungratefu l fo r them
. It'
s just—Harve y ha d neve r give n me gifts before . Not even cards on my
birthday . And then, suddenly
, t o giv e m e suc h strang e things
, whic h mak e m e fee l so odd...."
"What did he suggest you do with them?" Makr Avehl's voic e ha d a curiou s
flatness
, almos t a represse d distaste
, a s thoug h h e smelle d somethin g rotte n bu t wa s to o polit e
t o sa y anythin g abou t it .
"When he gave me the picture of the fish and the birds, he told me to hang it
on the wall in my bedroom—h e hadn't been here, but I told him I had a one
bedroom apartment. Then, later, when he gave me the other one, he said to hang
it in the living room. The other things were to be put on my desk or
bookshelves
. O
f course
, sinc e h e hadn'
t bee n here
, h e didn'
t really know what it's like...."
"It'
s a ver y pleasan t apartment, " h e commented
, lookin g about him as he packed the things back into the Box. "You've don e
mos t o f i t yourself
, haven'
t you?
"
"Ho w di d yo u know
? Doe s i t loo k tha t amateurish?
"
"Not in that sense. Amateur in the sense of one who loves something
, yes
. I wa s a studen t i n thi s countr y fo r a while
, and I know what the usual kind of apartment s availabl e to student s ar e
like
. The y ar e no t lik e this.
"
Sh e flushed
. " I gues s I d o lov e it . I hadn'
t ha d an y plac e of my own since Clou—since Mother died. It was important
to me."
"You started to call her something else."
"Just—
a kin d o f fair y tal e name.
" Ordinarily
, Mariann e di d not confide in people, certainly not on short acquaintance,
but th e focused
, inten t qualit y i n hi s interes t wipe d awa y he r ret
-
icence

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. " I alway s calle d he r Cloud-haire d mama
, an d sh e calle d me Mist Princess. It was only a kind of story telling,
role playing
, I guess
. W
e wer e alon e a lo t o f th e time
. Pap a wa s away
. Harve y wa s a t school
, mostly
. Latel y I hav e remembere d that she was only four or five years older
than I am now, and

yet I still feel like such a child most of the time. So—she wasn'
t to o ol d fo r fair y tales
, eve n then.
"
"Ah. But despite your enjoymen t of fairy tales, you do not like the pictures
and these little carvings."
"I don't. They make me feel—oh , slimy. Does that make sens e t o you
? I fel t it , bu t didn' t make t understan d it. a kind
"
"Oh
, yes.
" Fla t voice
. "I
s sense
. O
f
. Woul d you mind terribly if I took these away with me? I'll return them, or
somethin g like them. Somethin g you'll be more com-
fortabl e with
. Sinc e you r brothe r doe s no t visi t you
, h e i s unlikely to care. The sense of his gifts will be maintained. "
He closed the Box firmly on its contents . "Now , what are we going to do
about the weekend?"
She smiled, made a little, helpless gesture. "I don't want t o see m stubbor
n o r childish
, really
, bu t I thin k i t migh t b e better if I didn't accept your
invitation. "
"Tha t make s m e sad
. It's d I ar obviou s t o m e tha t I'v e mad e a miscalculation
. Tahit i an e ol d adversaries
, an d he r I in
-
vited out of bravado. My own sister, Ellat, will be peeved with me. She often
tells me my desire for bravur a effec t will get m e i n trouble
, an d sh low e i s ofte n right
. Wheneve r I a m ful l o f pride
, I a m brough t
. Wha t i s you r proverb—Prid e goet h before a fall? Well, so I am
fallen upon grievou s times. Becaus e
I ha d invite d her
, I invite d him
, becaus e I wante d you
. I wil l now have a guest I did not much want in the place of one I
had very much wanted, for I know you would enjoy it. Can I
beg you? Importune you?"
Curiosity and apprehension were strangely mingled, and yet he r habitua l

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cautio n coul d no t b e s o easil y overcome
. Th e thought of spending a weekend in Harvey' s company , among strangers .
Strangers . She reminde d herself firmly that the man sittin yes g s o
intimatel y opposit e he r wa s a stranger
. Charming
, . S
o coul d Harve y be
. Seemingl y intereste d i n he r a s a reality
, no t merel y a s a n adjunc t t o himself—bu t then
, ho w could one tell? "I—I'd like to think about it. Perhaps I could give
you an answer later in the week?"
H e ha d th e courtes y t o loo smil k disappointe e tha d bu t no t
accusin g an d t o conve y b y a tilte d t h e kne w th e difference
.
"Of course you may. And you must not feel any pressure of courtesy to agree if
it will make you more uncomfortabl e than

the pleasur e the visit might afford you. Everythin g is a balance , isn'
t tha t so?
" H
e stoo d up
, shifte d hi s shoulder s a s thoug h readying them for some weighty
burden, toed the box at his feet.
"Now, there are things I must do. We do have a dinner date tomorrow
, an d I wil l retur n you r belonging s then
. Someon e told me of a place nearby where there is a native delicacy served
. Somethin g calle d a sof t crab?
"
"Soft-shelle d crabs, " sh e laughed
. "Yo u mus t mea n Wil
-
lard's. It's famous all up and down the coast."
"I shall find them very strange and quite edible," he an-
nounced
. "Unti l tomorrow.
" A
t th e doo r h e touche d he r chee k with his lips, no more than an
avuncular caress, a kind of parent to child kiss. Her skin flinche d away from
him, her face flamed
, an d sh e gav e thank s fo r th e darknes s o f th e hal l an d
for the fact that he picke d up the Box and left, not turnin g to look back at
her as she shut the door betwee n them.
Sh e di d no t se e hi m se t th e Bo x dow n o n th e stai r an d
wip e his hands fastidiously on his handkerchief. Sweat beaded his upper lip,
and he shook his head, mouth working, as though to spit away some foul taste.
For a moment, when he had opene d th e Box
, h e ha d fel t a s thoug h astra y i n nightmare
. On e did not expect to smell such corruption in the pleasant apartment of
an innocent—oh , yes, make no mistake about that—in-
nocent young woman. Yet he had smelled it, tasted it. Makr
Aveh l Zahman i ha d som e experienc e wit h wickedness
. A
s a leade r o f hi s people
, i t wa s par t o f hi s dut y t o diagnos e evi l an d protec t
agains t it . Wha t h e fel t risin g fro m th e Bo x ha d a
skulking obscenity of purpose, a stench of decay. His face sheene d wit h
swea t a t th e self-contro l i t too k t o lif t th e Bo x an d
carr y it . H
e dre w a pe n fro m hi s pocket

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, use d i t t o jo t a quic k shorthan d o f symbol s an d letter s
o n eac h o f th e si x face s o f th e Box
. The n h e picke d i t u p onc e more
, a bi t mor e easily
, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the door at the top of the
stairs.
Behin d tha t door
, Mariann e wa s consciou s o f nothin g bu t shame and fear, shame at
the feel of hard nipples pressing against her blouse, shame at the brooding,
liquid heat in her groin, fear at the greedy demands of a desire which had am-
bushe d he r ou t o f nowher e an d wa s swallowin g he r int o som
e

endles s gu t o f hungr y sensation
.
She clung to the door, cringing under a lash of memory.
There had been Cloud-haire d mama dead in the next room, cold and white and
foreve r gone. How did she die, Mariann e had demanded, over and over. She was
young! She wasn't sick
! Ho w coul d sh e hav e died
? Ther e ha d bee n n o answers
, not from Papa Zahmani, not from Harvey who had only looked at her strangely,
expressionlessly , as though he did not know her. There had been whispering,
shouts from behind closed doors, Dr. Brown saying, "I would have said she died
of suf-
focation, Haurvatat. I can't explain it. I don't know why. Some-
times hearts just fail."
And Marianne crying, crying endlessly, finally seeking Harvey out and throwing
herself into his arms in the late, dark night.... And then had come the
frightening thing him usabl
. An d afte r th e housekeepe t her r ha d com e i n an d interrupte
s sof d
, h e ha s you d hisse d a
, "Bitc a was....
h princess
. You'r e a t an d e a r ma d mam
"
She leaned against the door, digging her nails into her palms.
"I'm not like that!" she screamed at herself silently. "I'm not like that at
all." Demon voices in her mind hissed, "Soft, usable, bitch!" An obscene heat
enveloped her, and she was bac k i n th e ol d house
, returne d t o Harvey'
s holdin g her
, touch
-
ing her, starting to undress her with fingers busy under her clothes, and
herself responding to him in a kind of dazed frenzy which had no thought in
it, no perception except of a hoped-
for forgetfulness , a much desired unconsciousness . And then he had been
interrupted, and the shame had come, the shame of his using Mama's name,
defiling her death, defiling her child—
and Mama's child involved in the defilement, cooperating in it.
"No
, no
, no, " sh e screame d no w a s sh e ha d then
. " I a m no t lik e that. Mama wasn't like that. I won't, won't, won't!"
Somewhere inside herself she found the calmer voices. "This ma n i s no t
Harvey
. Thi s ma n i s someon e else

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Page 33

. H e ha s Harvey'
s face, but he has not Harvey's sins. He is attractive, you are attracted
, bu t thi s ho t sham e i s onl y memory
, Marianne
. I t i s not now, not real, only memory. And you, Marianne, you are well
enough alone. So. Stay alone, Marianne, and do not re-
member that time. And perhaps, someday, you will find it is forgotten."
She took her chastened self into the shower and then out

for a long, exhaustin g walk to weary even her tireless brain, a brai n whic
h kep t tryin g b y a n exercis e o f pur e persistenc e t o mak e
he r wound s hea l b y cuttin g the m deeper
. For
, o f course
, amon g al l th e othe r monster s wa s th e monste r o f guilt
, guil t whic h sai d tha t sh e hersel f ha d bee n responsible
, no t th e grow n ma n bu t herself
, th e child
, th e woma n wh o shoul d hav e know n better, for are not women
supposed to know better? And if the twelve-year-ol d Mariann e di d no t
kno w better
, the n bes t fo r th e twenty-five-year-ol d Mariann e t o wor k i n
th e quie t librar y an d atten d th e endles s classe s an d hav e n
o mal e friend s a t all
, for she, too, might not know better if put to the test. She would not go for
the weekend, would not allow this feeling to take hol d o f her
, woul d no t allo w he r cal m t o b e destroyed
.
"O f course, " he r interna l sel f reminde d her
, "yo u ar e no t always so calm, Marianne. Sometimes in the deep night,
you waken
. Sometime s whe n th e sheet s ar e sensuousl y sof t agains t you r
newl y bathe d skin
. Sometime s i n th e mids t o f a T V show
, when the young man and the young woman look at each other in that way—tha t
way—the n you are not so calm."
"Begone," she said wearily. "Burned, buried, begone." Usu-
all y th e litan y o r th e lon g wal k le t he r sleep
, bu t tonigh t sh e lay wakeful, dozing from time to time only to start
awake again, until she gave up at last and took two of the little red pills
Dr.
Brow n ha d give n her
. He r slee p wa s dark
, dreamless
, empty
, an d whe n mornin g cam e sh e wa s abl e t o convinc e hersel f
tha t the night's turmoil had been unreal and that she had not been mired in
it at all.
Sh e coul d no t fee l anticipatio n fo r th e evening
. Eac h tim e sh e though t o f it , i t loome d a t th e en d o f
he r da y lik e a roa d marker, pointing to some unknown destination,
evoking an apprehension not so much for the destination itself as for the
unfamilia r an d possibl y tediou s journe y i t woul d tak e t o
reac h it. She was familiar with the feeling, one which had served in the past
to limit her society to the few, the necessary, and she felt ashamed of it
without in any way being able to defeat it.
Onl y whe n sh e cam e int o he r apartmen t a t th e en d o f th e
da y t o se e th e po t o f crocuse s o n th e windo w sea t an d
fee l th e absenc e o f th e Bo x di d sh e begi n t o fee l a

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sligh t warming
, a willingnes s t o b e gracefu l withi n th e confine s o f he r
appre
-

tension—perhaps even a willingness to move outside it toward pleasure if she
could find a way.
"So
, Marianne, " sh e instructe d herself
, "yo u wil l no t giv e him a dinner partner to shame him. He has done
nothing at all to deserve that." It was a sense of pride which took her
through the routines of bam and makeup, hairdress and clothing, and finally to
the examinatio n of self in the mirror. The dress had belonge d t o he r
mother
, a simple
, timeles s gathe r o f flowin g silk, jade green in one light, twilight
blue in another, utterly plain fro
. Th e onl y dress y clothe s sh e ha things d wer e thing s salvage
d m amon g Cloud-haire d mama'
s
, trunk s Pap a ha d pu t in storage in her name, "Because you may want
them someday, or may simply want to have them to remember her by." Some ha d
bee n to o fashionabl e the n t o b e usefu l now
, bu t ther e wer e a fe w thing s lik e this—blouse s an d shirts
, ageles s skirts
, a topcoat which might have been illustrated in the morning paper, a
wonderfu l swee p o f lac y woo l stol e whic h woul d serv e a s a
wrap. The only clothes Marianne had purchased in the last four years had been
underwear and two pairs of shoes. Everything else was left over from
undergraduat e days or made over from
Mama's trunks. If it came to a choice between clothing and th e tile Sh e
looke s fo r th e kitchen...
. Sh e smiled
. Ther marvelou e wa s n o choice
.
d good bu
, sh e decided Clean
. No t attractive s o r gloriou s o r glamorous
, t good
.
, neat
, , an d b y n o means shabby. So.
Turning then from the mirror, she saw the line of light run down the silk from
the curve of her breast, the flush of red mountin g t o he r cheeks
. He r hand s tremble d a s sh e tugge d th e softly rounded neckline a
little higher on her shoulders. She hadn' sai d defiantly t chose n thi .
"Di s dres s t o be..
. hadn't..
. had
. "Didn't, " sh e t o d not.
" Sh e reache d fo r th e close t doo r pick something thicker, less
clinging, less...
Too late. She heard him coming up the stairs, the firm knock on the door. Put
the best face on it possible.
He made it no easier for her. He stood back, obviously admirin wate make g
her
, hi s eye s lightin s it ? A
g up
. "Yo u loo colo k wonderful r suit t inside.

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, a r nymph—wha s yo t i naiad
. Th candle e s you
. I t u glo w a s thoug h yo u ha d s li
" H
e smiled, not knowing that the emotion he had roused in her was

a quie t anger
, a t him
, a t herself
. "I'v e brough t you r bo x back.
"
Her mood of acceptance was waning, but he gave her no time to fret, placing
the box on the table and opening it as he talked. "One Escher print," he said,
busy unpacking. "One prin t o f a Delvau x painting
. On e Eskim o carving
, on e Bant u carving, one bit of oriental charmery. One medicine pouch."
He set them out for her as she stared.
Th e Esche r prin t wa s o f a fis h risin g t o th e to p o f
stil l wate r where leaves rested on the ripples and bare trees laid their
shattere d reflections
. Th e Delvau x paintin g wa s o f tw o youn g wome n walkin g i n a
well-li t street
, clothe d i n high-necke d white dresses, lamps all about, a nearby house
streaming with light from windows and doors. The Eskimo carving was of a bird
, a confluenc e o f curvin g line s whic h sai d nest
, rest
, peace
.
Th e ebon y carvin g wa s o f a happ y frog
, an d th e orienta l bi t wa s o f tw o mic e chewin g thei r wa y
throug h a nut
. H
e lai d a medicine pouch beside the pot of crocuses, a bit of fluff y ermine
skin
, eagl e feather s tie d t o i t wit h turquois e bead s an d bit s
o f coral
. "America n Indian, " h e said
. "Ho w doe s thi s collectio n of things suit you?"
Sh e considere d them
. Eac h o f the m separatel y wa s pleasant
, unremarkable
. Together—togethe r the y seeme d t o reac h to
-
war d he r wit h welcomin g arms
. "Safe, " sh e offere d a t last
.
"Everything seems very natural and contented."
" I lik e th e youn g wome n i n th e Delvau x painting.
" H e mad e a vast, smoothing gesture, as though wiping away the darkness.
"Busy at lighting up their world. Light is a very powerful symbol in our
religion, of course." He stood back from the pictur e an d admire d it .
"Ah
! I mean t t o han g the m fo r you
, bu t i t wil l hav e t o b e whe n w e return
. Ou r reservatio n i s fo r eigh t o'clock
, an d i f w e mak e a carefu l hurry
, w e wil l ge t ther e on time. The maitre d' to whom I spoke was most
forthright.
We must be on time or our table will be given away to those les s foresighte

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Page 36

d bu t mor e prompt
. Nothin g woul d swa y him
, not even appeals to justice and the America n Way. So. Your wrap
? Lovely
. You r purse
? Tha t i s al l yo u ar e carrying
? Well
, th e youn g ar e th e onl y one s wh o ma y trave l s o
unencumbered
.
We go."
She had no opportunity to tell him he need not hang the

pictures, no opportunity to change her dress, no time to re-
member she had wanted to change it. She was swept down the stairs—pas t Mrs.
Winesap in the entryway , pretendin g to be muc h involve d wit h he r
mailbox—an d int o th e ca r befor e sh e coul d thin k o f anything
, alread y laughin g somewha t helplessl y at his nonsense.
"Most cars available for rent," he announced, shutting her door, "are too
large to be amusin g or too small to be safe. I
wil l not
, however
, joi n nine-tenth s o f you r countryme n i n th e daily game they
play with their lives. To meet my sense of prudence
, yo u ar e require d t o rid e i n som e ostentatiou s luxury
, thoug h I kno w yo u woul d prefe r simplicity
, bein g th e kin d o f person you obviously are."
Sh e san k bac k int o th e seat
, surrounde d b y velve t surface s an d leathe r smell
. " I didn'
t kno w on e coul d ren t car s lik e this.
"
"On e cannot, " h e sai d wit h som e satisfaction
. "However
, one can appear to be a potential buyer, with unimpeachable references
, o f course
, thu s gainin g th e temporar y ownershi p o f suc h a vehicle
. On e ma y eve n be a potentia l buyer
, thoug h
I a m uncertai n whethe r th e road s o f Alphenlich t ar e wid e
enoug h fo r suc h extravagance.
"
"You do have roads?" she asked in wide-eyed innocence.
"Yo u mock
. Quit e rightly
. Yo u wil l remember
, however
, tha t I tol d yo u w e ar e beginnin g t o buil d suc h things
. W
e hav e even recently completed a hydroelectri c plant, and there is an
Alphenlich t radi o statio n b y whic h mean s th e peopl e ma y b e
informe d of matters of mutual interest . Avalanch e warnings .
Things of that kind." He negotiate d a tricky turn at the avenue wit betwee h
casua l mastery o hurtlin
, dartin g u p th e entranc e ram p t o fi t the m n tw g truc k
behemoth s withou t seemin g t o no
-
tice he had done so. Marianne, who had braked in reflex, leaned bac k an d
relaxed

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Page 37

. H e wa s no t goin g t o kil l the m both
. S o muc h wa s obvious
. " I rathe r lik e it, " h e purred
, pattin g th e dashboar d with proprietar y interest . "Do you think it
appropriat e for a
Prim e Minister?
"
Sh e considere d thi s judiciously
. "Well
, i t i s a littl e osten
-
tatious. But a Prime Minister should be, at least a little."
"It will acquire importanc e when Aghrehon d drives it. Agh-
rehond does my driving; he is also my friend, first factotum

o f th e republic
, an d th e guardia n Nesto r o f m y youth
. H
e wil l be enormously pleased with this machine. It will contribute to hi s
alread y overpowerin g dignity.
"
"You'r e goin g t o bu y it , then?
"
He cocked his head, considering. "If it continues to behave well. Have you
noticed the tendency of some things to behave wel l a t first
, a s thoug h knowin g the y ar e o n trial
, onl y t o tur n recalcitrant and balky when they believe they have been
ac-
cepted?"
Mariann e flushe d i n th e darkness
. H e ha d no t bee n speakin g o f her
, bu t sh e applie d hi s word s t o he r ow n case
. Sh e ha d behaved well when they had first met, an interestin g experi-
ence, a previously unknown relative, no troubling overtones, an d sh e ha d
fel t fre e t o b e herself
. No w sh e kne w sh e wa s turning balky, for good reason, but he would
not know that.
Well
, on e coul d b e balk y withou t lettin g i t appea r o n th e sur
-
face. She commanded herself to be charming. He would find he r charming
. He r citade l migh t kee p it s portculli s down
, bu t sh e woul d no t b e obviou s abou t it . S o sh e seduce d
hersel f wit h promises and turned her attention back to him with a newly
kindle d radiance
.
" I ha d a typewrite r lik e tha t once, " sh e said
. "Th e onl y tim e it ever worked was in the repair shop where I bought
it, and in the repair shop when I took it back—every time I took it back."
H e laughed
. " I ha d a Jagua r XKE—yo u kno w th e one
? I t has twelve cylinders and a complexit y of electrical system beside
which the space probes are models of simplicity. When-
ever it went more than fifty kilometer s from the garage where its mechanic
waited, it had an electrical tantrum and stopped running
. I t wa s s o ver y pretty
, eve n standin g still—whic h i s what it mostly did—that I left it for a
very long time in the garage, simply to look at it now and then. However,
since it ha d no t bee n purchase d a s sculpture

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Page 38

, i t seeme d unwis e t o con
-
tinue giving it house room. I then put a curse upon the engineers who had
designed it, and British Leyland went bankrupt soon thereafter."
"Yo u clai m responsibilit y fo r that?
" sh e asked
, uncertai n whethe r h e wa s seriou s o r not
.
"Absolutely. " His voice was utterly serious. Then he turned

an d sh e sa w hi s eyes
. "Marianne
, yo u ar e a goo d audienc e fo r m y silliness
. Yo u ar e youn g enoug h almos t t o believ e me.
"
"No," she protested. "I didn't, really."
"No," he echoed, "you almost did." Then his voice changed.
" I coul d hav e don e it , Marianne
. A
Magu s coul d d o suc h a thing. But it would be self-indulgent, and a
Magus does not build his powers—or even retain them—by being self-indul-
gent. Those who do so go by other names."
She was surprised at this abrupt change of tone, evidence that something was
on his mind other than the evening. How-
ever, he gave her no time to brood over it, but reached across to the glove
compartmen t to tug out a map which he droppe d into her lap, stroking her
knee with his hand. "Here, see if you ca n fin d wher e w e are
, an d the n tel l m e th e exi t number
. I
looke d i t u p thi s afternoon
, bu t I hav e forgotte n it.
" Hi s voic e was a caress, as his touch had been, and she drew her stole
around her, over her knees and thighs, all too aware of the plac e hi s han
d ha d touched
. Fac e flaming
, sh e ben t ove r th e map, not noticing he had leaned to one side to see
her face in the rear view mirror. He smiled, a smile of pleasure, but with
somethin g hungr y an d predator y i n it .
She searched the map for some time, calming herself with it. When she could
trace their route, she found the exit number fo r him
. "I'v e onl y bee n ther e onc e before, " sh e said
. "A
n ol d friend of my father's invited me to dinner there with his wife and
daughter."
"Wer e the y goo d people
? Di d yo u enjo y it?
"
"I did. Yes. They had known my parents, and that was nice.
M y parent s wer e wonderfu l people
, an d I lik e t o remembe r them..."
"Happily, " h e suggested
. "Yo u lik e t o remembe r the m hap
-
pily."
"That's it. I usually have to remember them in some context o f mone y o r
propert y becaus e o f Harvey
, yo u know
. An d tha t isn't the same. It's certainly not happy."
"Your affairs were left in his hands, you said."

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" I wa s onl y a schoolgirl
. M
y mother'
s estate—rathe r a bi g one, from her father—wa s in papa's hands during
his lifetime , bu t the n i t cam e t o me
. Excep i n Boston t Harve y wa d a n attorne s executor
. Oh
, there' e neve s som e ma n i n a ban k
, an y I'v r

seen
, bu t Harve y i s reall y th e on e wh o say s ye s o r no
. Th e others simply do what he tells them."
"Ah," said Makr Avehl, in a strange voice. "They simply
... give consent."
"Yes. And whenever Harvey says anything, he always says it is what Papa would
have wanted . Which means it is what
Harvey wants. " She fell silent, flushing . "I feel very disloyal , talking
about him this way."
Makr Avehl, thinkin g of the contents of the box he had take n fro m he r
apartment
, contente d himsel f wit h silence
. A
t that moment the hungry, predatory part of him withdrew , and a more
thoughtfu l self examine d Marianne' s face with a quick , sideway s look
. "Bloo d i s no t alway s thicke r tha n water
, Mari
-
anne
. Onl y whe n th e tie s o f bloo d ar e equall y stron g o n bot h
sides is there any true kinship. Kinship can never be a one-
way thing."
"That's what Mrs. Winesap says. She says if I don't like him
, I simpl y don'
t lik e him
, an d I shouldn'
t fee l guilt y abou t that."
"I couldn't agree more. Mrs. Winesap is an eminently sen-
sibl e woman
. Also
, sh e ha s you r welfar e a t heart
, an d tha t makes her kin to you in a real way. " He swun g the car onto th
e exi t ramp
, the n beneat h th e highwa y an d ont o a shore
-
boun d roa d betwee n buddin g tree s frette d agains t th e dusk
.
Lights faded around them, dwindlin g from hectic commercia l to amber
residential , soft among the knotted branches. It was quie t i n th e car
, al l traffi c lef t behin d them
. Reflecte d i n th e waters of a little bay was the discreet sign in pink
neon, "Wil-
lard's.
" H
e parke d th e ca r an d looke d quickl y a t hi s watch
.
"On time. There will be no excuse to have given our table to anyone else."
H e too k he r fro m th e ca r an d int o th e plac e b y he r
elbow

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, gentl y held
. Thei r tabl e wa s waiting
, an d Mariann e gaine d th e impression it would have been waiting had
they not arrived until midnight . Makr Aveh l wave d the maitr e d' away and
seated her himself, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he arrange d th e
stol e o n th e bac k o f he r chair
. Sh e resolutel y focused herself on the reflections in the water, on the
candlelit interior
, o n anythin g else
.
When he had seated himself across from her, he said, "Shall

we dispens e with the usually obligator y cocktail ? Do you kno w th e origi
n o f th e word
? I t dates
, I a m told
, fro m th e earl y years of the nineteenth century in New Orleans where
cognac was mixed with bitters using an old-style egg cup—calle d a coquetier—t
o measur e th e ingredients
. Fro m cah-cuh-tya y t o cock-ta y t o cock-tai l woul d hav e
require d onl y th e slovenl y enunciatio n o f a hal f generation
. Doe s tha t interes t you
? No t greatly. " He grinne d at her and pretende d an interes t in the menu.
The meal had already been arranged for.
Whe n h e ha d him d ordere d fo r bot h o f them
, h e leane d bac fo k an d s stare d aroun
, a littl e arrogantly
. "Thi s orderin g r one'
guest is no longe r an America n custom , I know . But it is a custom I enjoy.
So I command outrageou s viands from kitchens across the breadth of the world
if only to see how my com-
panions will approach them. If what I have ordered does not appeal to you, now
is the time to chastise me."
"It sounds delicious," she said. "I don't mind at all. It's precisely what
Papa always did."
"And Harvey?"
"I've never eaten in public with Harvey," she said stiffly.
"I imagine he would be more... more showy about it."
" I ca n hea r hi m now, " sai d Mak r Avehl
, puttin g o n a pom
-
pous expression. " "The lady will have breaded cockscomb with the sauce of
infant eel.' Then an aside to his companion: 'You'll love it, Juliet. I
remember having it in Paris, during the Inter-
national Conference of the Institute of Anthropology.' Like that?"
"Like that," she agreed. "And then he'd watch her like a hawk to be sure she
pretended to enjoy it."
"Whic h sh e woul d do?
" H
e nodde d a t th e hoverin g win e steward .
"Whic h the y see m t o do, " sh e agreed
. "I'v e neve r bee n abl e to figur e out why. "
Acros s th e tabl e fro m her
, h e glittere d wit h gentl e laughter
.
The explosion of light seemed so real that Marianne actually blinked to avoid
being blinded, then opened her eyes wide, astonished at her own childishness.
It was only the blaze of somethin g flambe
' behin d him

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, bein g mad e a grea t sho w o f in a chafing dish. An obsequious
waiter slipped behind her chair to place two additional wine glasses beside
her plate,

whil Avehl'
e th e win e stewar d poure d a n inc h o f rub y ligh t int o Mak
r s glass
. H e sippe d it , nodded
, an d Marianne'
s ow n glas s dropped red jewels of light onto the table cloth.
She sipped, smiled, sipped again. It had been a long time sinc e sh e ha d
ha d goo d wine
. Sh e ha d drun k i t a s a child
, a t
Papa's side, learning to taste. Then she had gone away to school, and there
had been no wine then or since. Her slender budge again befor shallots t woul
d no t stretc h t o suc h indulgence
, an o f pat y o f herb d sh e sippe d d d
, los t i n a haz e o f happ y memory smellin
. A succulentl plat e e appeare e her
, almos e bega t magically
, g t noticin s an n
. Sh n t o ea t hungrily
, no g hi s expressio a s h e watche d her
. I t wa s th e expressio n o f a lio n abou t t o pounce.
Bu t behin d tha t expressio n a dialogu e ha d begun
, a familia r dialogu e t o Mak r Avehl
, on e betwee n th e ma n an d th e Magus
, wit I t bega h a wor n wit d o r tw e ma o fro m tha t entit y h
e calle d "th e intruder. H
"
h th n saying
, " I wan t thi s woman!
"
e sai d it impatiently. The man did not equivocate. He did not apol-
ogize.
"Yo u wil l conduc t yoursel f appropriately, " replie d th e Ma
-
gus. 'This is a kinswoman. Even if she were not, there are indulgences
inappropriate to a Magus!"
And another voice, sibilant, hissing, "This is a complication w e d o no t
nee d a t thi s time
. Thi s i s foolishness
, kinswoma n or not. Be done."
"She is fair," sang the man to himself, not listening to the voices. The wine
was diluting their message , blurring their advice
. "Fair
. Lith e an d lovely
, dar k o f hai r an d pal e o f skin
, curved as a warrior' s bow is curved , straigh t as his arrow is straight
. A
warrior'
s trophy
! A
warrior'
s prize!
"
"A brigand's booty. A robber's spoils," threatened the Ma-
gus .

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"A poacher's trap," hissed the voice of dissent.
"A lover's prize," the man amended, bending over his plate i n a sudde n
acces s o f warmth
. H
e ha d no t mean t t o sa y that
.
He had not used the word to himsel f for almos t twenty years, not since he
was ninetee n and though t himsel f dying becaus e someone else had died, died
untimely, unforgiveably. He shut down the voices, apprehensive of the end of
their colloquy.
The food gave him something else to think about, but it led

hi m int o th e tra p onc e more
. H
e looke d u p t o se e Marianne'
s lip s curve d t o accep t th e edg e o f th e glass
, curve d a s thoug h in a kiss, and his hands trembled.
"Come now, Makr Avehl," he said to himself. "You are not a schoolboy any
longer. You are not a lascivious youth, carried willy-nill y o n naiv e
curiosity'
s back
, lik e Europ a o n th e bull
, tormente d b y lus t int o abandonmen t o f al l sense
. Come
, come
.
Let us talk of something else."
"Di d yo u reall y lik e th e picture s I brough t you?
" h e asked
, seeing a well-traine d hand slip the empty plate away from befor anne'
e hi glas m t o replac e i t wit h another
, noticin g als o tha untouched t Mari
-
s s wa s bein g refilled
. Hi s ow n wa s almos t
.
She did not answer at once, being occupied with napkin and glass
. "Tha t wa s duck, " sh e sai d happily
. "Lovel y duck
. Al l bits and pieces with swadges of truffle. I didn't know Willard's
. was capable of that...."
H e di d no t tel l he r tha t th e pat e ha d bee n provide d
earlier
, tha t Willard'
s wa s no t capabl e o f that
, tha t n o restauran t withi n five hundre d miles was capabl e of that
excep t the one whic h ha d provide d th e pat e t o hi s order
. "Th e pictures?
" h e prompted
.
"The pictures. Well, the one of the fish is marvelous . One ha s a sens e o
f th e fis h rising
, an d becaus e th e ai r abov e an d the water below are all one, it is
almost as though it could go o n risin g upward
, forever
. Lik e a balloon.
"
Mak r Avehl
, wh o ha d no t though t o f this

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Page 43

, wa s muc h take n with the feeling. "Exaltation? "
"Yes
. Th e feelin g tha t on e coul d g o o n u p an d u p forever
, bu t on e woul d no t nee d to
. Th e surfac e i s ver y nice
, too
. Well
, I liked that one. The other one was more difficult . The young women are in
the street, alone, but they are not threatened at all. There are lights
around, in the house—which must be the hous e the y liv e in—wher e peopl
e ar e waitin g fo r them
. Noth
-
in g horribl e i s coming
. It'
s a specia l evening
, an d th e girl s ar e setting lights along the streets. They do that in
Mexico, don't they? Set lights along the streets? Candles, in bags of sand? A
kind of ritual in which the safe, lighted way is shown, I think.
An d that'
s th e wa y i t feels
, a safe
, lighte d way.
"
"Luminous," he suggested.
She considered this over a spoonful of lobster bisque, turn-
ing the idea with the other flavor s on her tongue . "Not so much

luminou s a s illuminated
. Thing s whic h coul d b e threatenin g o r frightening are lighted up,
made harmless, perhaps even shown to be attractive. That's what one wants,
after all, to have the monster s shown to be nothin g but paper cutouts , or
shadows , o r humpe d bushe s whic h th e ligh t wil l sho w t o b e
ful l o f flowers."
He nodded. "It's unfortunate the other group of things had such an unpleasan t
feel to it. Certai n grouping s can have that qualit y o f forebodin g o r
threat
. I remembe r a particula r plac e i n th e fores t o f Alphenlicht
, trees
, stones
, som e larg e leafe d plants with waxy blooms. Taken individually , the
trees are onl y trees
. Th e stone s ar e interestin g shapes
, take n eac h b y each, and the plants are found in many boggy parts of
the mountains. Taken as a whole, however, this particular clearing amon g th
e stone s wit h th e tree s broodin g abov e ha s a qualit y of
menace."
He shook his head, keeping to himself the question as to what kind of knowledg
e or study woul d have stimulate d a person—an y person—t o hav e chose n
th e particula r grou p o f thing s h e ha d foun d i n th e box
. Th e knowledg e wa s on e matte r but
, i n addition
, wha t motivatio n woul d on e hav e had
? Thes e questions were not merely interesting but compelling. He was mos t
curiou s abou t th e sl y vilenes s i n whic h h e ha d give n he r
the things one at a time, singly , so that her spirit would be led t o accep
t the m individuall y rathe r tha n tak e warnin g a t th e cumulativ
e effect .
Nonetheless , she had taken warning . Which told him some-

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thin g mor e abou t he r t o mak e hi s lustfu l sel f pause
. Ther e wa s heritag e here
, th e heritag e o f th e Magi
. "Wit h whom, " advise d the Magu s within , "it is wise not to trifle."
H e pursue d thi s question u tel
. "Yo u didn'
t lik e th e thing s Harve y gav e you
. Di d yo l m e why? g u p th
"
Sh e shrugged
, spoonin e las t o f he r bisque
, sorr y there was not more of it, so relaxed by the wine that she did not
mind answering . "They made me feel slimy. Dirty. Not clean dirt, but sewer
dirt. I've never been in a sewer, but I can imagine." She put her spoon down
with regret. "The naked girl was the worst. That one made me angry. She was
so...
sacrificial."
"Anger, " h e mused
, noddin g onc e mor e t o th e hoverin g

waiter
. " I hav e ofte n wondere d wh y ange r i s considere d b y some
Western religions to be a sin. It is such a marvelou s protectio n against
evil." He examine d her face, thinkin g of an ol d prover b o f hi s
people
, ofte n use d t o defin e perspicacit y o f a certai n type
:
He can recognize the devil by his breathing.
H
e thought it interesting that Marianne could recognize the devil by its
breathing, and he wondered who the devil was. Well, h e shoul d no t b e
to o quic k t o identify
.
"Th e reaso n yo u foun d the m unpleasan t probabl y doesn'
t matter. We've taken care of it. It's likely that your brother would not even
know the differenc e betwee n the thing s he gave you and the substitutions I
have made. He would undoubtedly be distressed to learn he had caused you a
moment's appre-
hension
. Ther e i s certainl y n o reaso n t o mentio n i t t o him.
"
Mariann e ha d ha d n o intentio n o f mentionin g it . "Yo u thin k
I felt as I did about the things merel y becaus e Harve y gave the m t o me
? Tha t seem s a littl e simplistic.
" s w
"It'
s probabl y a s goo d a n explanatio n a humor e ar , watchin e goin
g t o s get.
" H e laughe d wit h a goo d pretens e o f g a the second set of wine
glasses were refilled. They would con-
tinue with the Trockenbeerenausles e until dessert . He had chose n i t fo r
her
, thinkin g sh e woul d prefe r it , an d wa s no w regretfu l tha t
h e ha d no t realize d sh e woul d appreciat e some
-
thing better. Still, it was a very fine wine, if not a preeminent one, and her
glass was being refilled for the third time. Her face was flushe d and happy ,
and she playe d idly with her fork, waiting for the salad. He went on, putting
an end to the subject, "I suggest any further presents from your half brother

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be put i n storag e somewhere
. Ofte n w e wis h t o b e exorcise d o f demon s w e ourselve s hav
e allowe d hous e room
. Tha t i s a n Alphenlich t saying
, on e m y siste r i s ver y fon d of.
"
" I suppos e sh e mean s demon s o f memory, " sai d Mariann e in an
untroubled voice. "Of guilt, of vengeance. Things we dwel l o n instea d o
f forgetting.
" I n tha t moment
, sh e fel t sh e woul d no t b e bothere d b y suc h thing s again
.
H e curse d a t himself
, no t lettin g i t show
. Th e bo x ha d bee n no minor assault. She should be warned. Who was he
to give he r thes e platitude s instea d o f th e hars h warnin g whic
h wa s probabl y required
? I f h e wer e t o b e tru e t o hi s ow n conscience
, he would explore the root of that corruption, find the cause,

hel p he r arrang e a defens e agains t i t rathe r tha n dea l he r
a fe w proverbs to placate her sense of danger. However, there was no way to
do that withou t frightenin g her, and tonigh t was not th e time
, no t th e place
, no t wit h he r glowin g fac e acros s fro m him
, candlelit
, sof t an d accepting
. Whe n h e kne w he r a littl e better—whe n he found out who was
responsible . He did not believ e i t wa s he r brother
. Th e shallow
, puffed-u p eg o whic h ha d looke d a t hi m out o f Harve y S .
Zahmani'
s eye s woul d no t have been capable of the singleminded study necessary
to select those individua l gifts to make up such a synergisti c power of
evil. Well. It would wait. He would not destroy her pleasure tonight.
Neithe r woul d h e destro y hi s ow n planne d pleasur e fo r th e
weekend. He returned to his purpose.
"D
o yo u ride
, Marianne?
"
"I t wa s m y passio n once
, i f twelve-year-ol d girl s ma y b e allowed to have passions. I had a
wonderfu l horse, Rustam. I
loved him above all things. When he was sold, after Papa died, I crie d fo r
days
. I neve r coul d tel l i t i f wa s fo r Papa
, o r fo r
Rustam. I think it was for Rustam, though. I had already cried for Papa."
"That was at your home?"
"Yes." She picked at the edges of her salad, a spiraling rosett e o f
unfamilia r vegetables
, intricatel y arranged
. " I wa s just learning to jump. Rustam already knew how, of course, and he
took great care to keep me on his back. I was always afrai d I wa s i n hi
s way
, hinderin g him.
"
"Is it something you want to do again someday?"

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"Something I dream about. I would love to ride again, if I
haven't forgotten how."
"There is some particula r affinity , I am told, betwee n ad-
olescen t girl s an d horses
. Som e girls
, I shoul d say.
"
"Some, yes. I was very conscious of being... well, what can one say? Not
weaker, exactly, but less able to force myself upo n th e unimpressionabl e
world
. Les s able
, tha t is , tha n Papa
, or Harvey. Mama didn't seem to care. There were things the me n di d whic
h I simpl y couldn'
t understand
. An d yet
, whe n
I rode Rustam , the barrier s were gone . I felt I could go any-
where, through anything, over anything. That I would be car-
ried
, a s o n wings.
"

The look she turned on him was full of such adoring memor y tha t h e
clenche d bot h fist s i n hi s lap
, fightin g dow n th e urg e t o mak e som e poeti c outburst
: "Oh
, I woul d b e you r steed
, lady. I would carry you to such places you have not dreame d of...."
Instead, he hid his face behind his napkin, managed to say somethin g in a
half-choke d voice about Pegasus, leaving the poetry unsaid though the words
sang in him like the after-
sound of a plucked string, reverberating , summonin g sympa-
thetic vibrations from his loins.
" I asked, e whic
" h e sai e hav d i n a voic e deliberatel y dry
, "becaus th e th e y ha hous h w e lease d whil e w e ar e i n e
countr s attached to it an excellent stable. The people who own it are
vacationing in the Far East, and they left us in complete pos-
sessio n o f thei r ow n ridin g horses—tha t is , onc e the y learne
d that we are not barbarians." He choked back a laugh, remem-
berin g th e obliqu e correspondenc e whic h ha d finall y establishe d
this fact to the satisfactio n of the Van Horsts . "I do not wan t you to miss
the opportunity to ride with us this weekend, Marianne . I do not want to miss
the opportunit y to ride with you. I have invited other people, good friends,
people you would enjoy. You would not need to be in the compan y of your
brother at all. I will beg you, importun e you, please. Be my guest."
She could not refuse him. Whether it was the wine, or the though t o f th e
horses
, o r th e candlelight
, o r hi s ow n face
, s o ful l o f a n expressio n whic h sh e refuse d t o rea d bu t
coul d no t deny, she murmured, "If you're quite sure it won't be awkward fo
r yo u i f Harve y behave s oddl y towar d me
. Perhap s h e won't
.
I kno w I' m a littl e sill y abou t him
, sometimes.
"

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"D o yo u thin k h e wil l b e unpleasan t compan y fo r m y othe r
guests?"
"He can be charming, " she said offhandedly . "I think he is only really
unpleasant to me."
"Do you know why? "
She flushed, a quick flowing of red from brow to chin which suffused her face
with tension. He saw it, snarled at himself fo r walkin g wit h suc h heav
y fee t wher e h e di d no t kno w th e way
, di d no t giv e he r tim e t o reply
.
"Ah
, her e com e th e crabs
. No w w e shal l se e i f thi s i s indee d a delicacy or merely one
of those regional eccentricitie s which

litter the pathway s of a true gourmet. "
"Gourmand," she said, relieved that the subject had been changed
. " I thin k a gourme t woul d no t ea t soft-shelle d crab
.
They are supposed to be an addictive indulgence, like popcorn."
"I wasn't warned," he said in mock horror.
"B e warned
. I wil l figh t yo u fo r them.
"
Mak r Aveh l coul d no t hav e sai d whethe r h e like d th e dis h
or not. He ate it. More of it than he would have eaten if alone.
H e dran k littl e wine
, afrai d o f i t fo r th e firs t tim e i n hi s life
, o f wha t h e migh t sa y unwarily
, havin g alread y sai d th e wron g thin g severa l time s over
, afrai d o f wha t h e migh t d o tha t woul d frighte n his quarry .
"Quarry?
" boome d th e Magus
, dee p inside
. " I war n yo u again
, Mak r Avehl
. Kinswoman.
" H
e hear d i t a s a n ech o o f he r ow n voice
, "B
e warned.
"
Mariann e had not expecte d the wine, was not guarde d agains t it , di d no
t notic e a s i t flowe d aroun d th e control s sh e ha d se t upon
herself, washed away the little dikes and walls of the resolution s sh e ha
d made
, le t he r forge t i t wa s t o hav e bee n an evening of politeness
only, without future, without over-
tones
. Sh e fel t hersel f beginnin g t o glitter
, di d nothin g a t al l to stop it, simply let it go on as though she
were twelve once more
, a t th e dinne r tabl e wit h Cloud-haire d mam a an d Pap a an d
thei r guests
, ful l o f happ y question s an d reasonabl y polit e behavior, ready
to be charmed and charming. 'Tell me about
Alphenlicht," she demanded. "All about it. Not the politics, but how it smells
and tastes. What it is like to live there."
"Shall I be scholarly and give you the history? Or do you wan t a

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Page 48

travelogue?
" God s bu t sh e i s beautiful
. I n thi s light
, he r ski n i s lik e pearl
.
"Don'
t tel l m e ho w i t go t tha t way
. Jus t tel l m e ho w i t is.
"
She licked her lips un-self-consciously , and he felt them on his own. He
turned to look out the window and summon his wits.
"Well
, then
. Alphenlich t i s a smal l country
. Yo u kno w that
.
It is a mountainous one. There is no capital, as such. Instead, ther e ar e
man y smal l town s an d village s gathere d aroun d th e fortresse s
buil t b y ou r ancestors
, man y o f the m o n th e site s o f older fortresses built by the
Urartians centuries before. Hilltop fortresses
, mostly
, wit h hig h ston e wall s toppe d b y ragge d battlements . They marc
h along the flank s and edge s of the

mountain s as thoug h they had been built by natur e rather than by man, gray
and lichened, looking as old as forever.
"Outsid e th e walls
, th e town s straggl e dow n th e hillsides
, narrow streets winding among clumps of walled buildings , half stable, part
barn, part dwelling. We came from Median stock, remember. The Medes could
never do without horses, and their house s were alway s surrounde d by
stableyards. "
"Hies," commented Marianne. "There would be lots of flies."
"No, " h e objected
. "W
e ar e no t primitive
. Th e litte r fro m ou r stable s enriche s ou r farmland
. Then
, too
, ther e i s a constan t smoky wind in Alphenlicht . We say it is possible
to stand on the souther n borde r of our countr y and know what is being
cooked for supper on the northern edge. You asked what the country smells
like, and that is it. Woodsmoke , as I have smelled here in autumn when the
leaves are being burned; a smell as nostalgic among men as any I know of. A
primitive smell, evoking the campfires of our most ancient ancestors." He
thought about this, knowing it for a new-old truth.
"Our houses are of stone, for the most part. We are self-
consciousl y protectiv e about our traditions , so we have a fond-
ness still for glazed tile and many wooden pillars supporting ornate, carved
capitals, often in the shapes of horses or bulls o r mythica l beasts
. Ther e i s plaste r ove r th e stone
, makin g th e rooms white. The walls are thick, both for winter warmth and
for summer cool, so windows are set deep and covered with wood screens which
break the light, throwing a lace of shadow into our rooms. Floors are of stone
for summer cool, but in winter we cover them with rugs, mostly from Turkey or
Iran.
Our people have never been great rug makers.
"Ceilings are often vaulted, with wind scoops at the ends, t o brin g i n

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Page 49

th e summe r winds
. I n winte r w e cove r the m wit h stout shutters which seldom fit as
well as they should. We say of an oddly assorted couple that they fit like
scoop shutters, meaning that they do not..." He fell silent, musing, seeing
his homeland through her eyes and his own words, as though newly .
"Wha t d o yo u eat?
" sh e asked
, takin g th e las t bit e o f he r fina l crab
. " I a m no t hungr y an y longer
, bu t I lov e t o hea r abou t food.
"
"Lamb and mutton. Chicken . Wild game. I have a particula r

fondnes s for wild fowl . Then , let me see, there are all the usua l
vegetables and grains. There are sheltered orchards along the foo t o f th e
snow s wher e w e gro w apricot s an d peaches
. W
e have berries and apples. There are lemon and orange trees in the conservator
y at the Residence , but most citrus fruits are imported . We are able to
import what we need, buying with th e gem s fro m ou r mines.
"
"But no soft-shelled crab," she mourned. "No fish."
"Indeed, fish. Trout from our streams and pools. For heav-
en's sake, Marianne . How can you talk about food?"
"What did you order for dessert?" she asked, finishing her wine.
H e nodde d t o th e waite r onc e more
. "Crepes
, int o whic h will be put slivers of miraculousl y creamy cheese from the
Alphenlich t mountains , served with a sauce of fresh raspberrie s flamed in
Himbeergeis t and doused with raspberry syrup."
"Tha t sound s lovely.
" Sh e sighe d i n anticipation
.
"I t i s lovely.
" H e mad e a wr y mouth
, mime d exasperation
.
"Also unavailabl e here. We're having an orange souffle which i s availabl e
here
, whic h ha s bee n recommende d b y severa l people with ordinary,
people-type appetites. Try a little of this sweet wine. It has a smell of
mangoes, or so they say. I like the aroma, but I confess that the similarity
escapes me."
The y finishe d th e mea l wit h inconsequentia l talk
, togethe r wit h mor e wine
, wit h brandy
. The y ha d bee n a t th e tabl e fo r almost four hours when they
left, comin g out into a chilly, clear evening with a gibbous moon rising
above the bay to send long, broken ladders of light across the water.
"I am at the middle of the whole world," Marianne hummed.
"See how all the lights come to me."
They stood at the center of the radiating lights, town lights o n th e poin
t stretchin g t o th e nort h an d east
, islan d light s fro m small
, clustere d prominence s t o th e eas t an d south
, th e ligh t of the moon.
"I f yo u ca n pul l yoursel f ou t o f th e cente r o f things, "
h e sai d tenderly
, "I'l l tak e yo u home.

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"
The drive back was almos t silent. Mariann e was deeply content, more than a
little drunk without knowing it, warmed by the wine, unsuspecting of danger.
As for him, he was no less moved than he had been hours earlier, but that
early im-

petuou s anticipatio n ha d turne d t o somethin g deepe r an d mor e
bittersweet , somethin g like the pain of a mortal wound gained i n honorabl
e battl e b y a fanatica l warrior
. Heave n wa s guar
-
antee d to such a sufferer , but a kind of deat h was the only gateway .
"Death of what?" he fretted, "of what? I have never been one to attach great
esoteri c significanc e to such matters! "
He refused to answer his own question. Such metaphors were merely the results
of wine-loquacity , a kind of symboli c babble.
He concentrated on driving.
Whe , sayin n the y arrived
, h e too k he r t o th e doo r an I leav g ove d entere d afte .
No r !
her Don'
g "I'l l han g thos e picture s befor it, e e you r he t object
, Marianne
. I wan t t o d o
" ridin r wea k protests to come close to her, making a long business of the
stick-o n hangers , standin g back to see whethe r the picture s were
straight, putting them where those others had been meant to go, one in her
living room, the other by her bed. And she there
, watching
, bemused
, almos t unconscious
, eye s fixe d o n the picture of the maidens setting out their lights,
stroking her own face with the fluff y eagl e feathe r tassl e of the medicin
e bag he had brough t her, as a child migh t stroke its face with th e come r
o f a love d blanket sh
, he r whol e expressio n dream y an d remot e a s thoug h e merel y
looke d i n o n mi s presen t plac e from som e distan t and infinitel y
superio r existence . The n she turned to him, and her eyes were aware, and
desirous, and soft....
H e groaned
, th e ma n par t breakin g throug s arms h hi s self-impose d
barriers
, groane d an d too k he r int o hi
, puttin g hi s mout h o n hers
, feelin g he r half-surprise
, the n th e gloriou s liqui d warmt h of her presse d agains t him in
all that silke n flow as she returne d th e kiss gas
. H a s h e presse e droppe d hi s lip e sil s t o th e hollo y
wit w o f he mout r throat
, hear follo d w he r p d th k awa h hi s h t o the swelling curve of
her breast....
And heard her cry as from some great distance, "Oh... not that way... chaos
will win... all my battles lost.... Oh, to-
morro w I wil l wan t t o die.
"
The words fell like ice, immediatel y chilling , making a crystallin e shel l
int o whic h h e recoiled
, immobilized
, th e Ma

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-
gu s withi n hi m seein g he r face
, th e mout h draw n u p int o a rictus which could equally have been
passion or pain, so evenly an d indiscriminatel y mixe d tha t h e coul d
no t foretel l th e con
-

sequenc e o f th e feelin g i t represented
.
So then it was Magus, cold, drawing upon all his powers of voice and command ,
who took the feathers from her hand and drew them across her eyes, forcing the
lids closed, chanting in his hypnotic voice, "Sleep, sleep. Dream. It is only
a dream.
A little
, lustfu l dream
. I t wil l b e forgotte n i n th e morning
.
Order rules. Your battle s will all be won. Makr Aveh l is your friend , your
champion , your warrio r to fight your battle s besid e you. Sleep...." All
the time afraid that the voice would fail him, that his man self had so
undermine d his Magu s self as to make his powers impotent.
Bu t the y wer e not
. Sh e slumpe d towar d him
, an d h e caugh t her as she fell, placing her upon her bed. When he left
her a few moments later it was with a feeling of baffled frustration and
disoriented anger, not at her, not even much at himself, but at whatever it
was, whoever it was who set this barrier betwee n them
. H
e mouthe d word s h e seldo m used
, castigate d himself
. "Fool
. Yo u kne w ther e wa s somethin g troublin g her
, something you have no knowledge of, but you tramp about wit h you r grea t
bullock'
s feet
, treadin g ou t he r ver y heart'
s blood...." For there had been that quality in her voice which had in it
nothing of coquetry but only anguish. "Idiot. Get out o f her e befor e yo
u d o an y mor e damage.
"
Bu t h e coul d no t leav e unti l h e ha d writte n he r a note
, foldin g it carefully. When he shut the door behind him, he turned to pus h
i t unde r th e door
, a s thoug h h e ha d returne d afte r leavin g her. She would not
remember anything of his—of his impor-
tunate assault. He had never felt so like a rapist for so little reason, and
his sense of humor began to reassert itself as he went down the stairs. She
might accuse herself in the morning, but it would only be of drinking a bit
too much. She could accuse herself, or him, of nothing else.
"And I will find out, will find out what it is make s her act like this."
A voice hissed deep within. "Of course, it may be she simply doe s no t fin
d yo u attractive.
"
"B e still
. I t isn'
t that
. I t isn'
t tha t a t all
. Wha t i t i s i s a threat. Desire—sex—a threat. Not merely the usual

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Page 52

kind of threat which any intimacy makes to one's individuality, to one's
integrity, no. More than that. Something real is threatening her,

an d I a m walkin g aroun d th e edge s o f it. "
He sat for a long time with his head resting on the wheel, continuing the mood
of part castigation, part determination. At last, when he was more calm, he
drove away. Behind him in the lower windo w of the house , Mrs. Winesa p
twitche d the curtain back into place, an expression of sadness on her face.
She had been sure that this man would not have stayed so short a time.

IF IT HAD not been a working day, she would have slept until noon
. Sinc e i t wa s a workin g day
, sh e struggle d awak e a t th e sound of the alarm, conscientiousl y
set before she left her room the evening before. There was somethin g hazy,
misty in her mind, the lost feeling one sometimes gets when a recent dream
departs
, leavin g a vacancy
. Sh e shoo k he r head
, tryin g t o re
-
member
. Ther e ha d bee n a goo d dea l o f amusemen t an d laugh
-
ter the night before , a good many soft-shelle d crabs, pate", wine
.. . o h yes
, wine
. He r hea d ache d a little
, no t badly
, a s thoug h sh e migh t hav e slep t wit h he r nec k twisted
. Sh e rubbe d a t it , noticin g fo r th e firs t tim e tha t sh e
wa s nake d amon g th e sheets
.
Goo d lord
, ther e mus t hav e bee n a lo t o f wine
. He r clothin g was laid across the chair. At least she had had the wits to
undress. She couldn't remember anything about it. Wrapping herself in a robe,
ignorin g the protest of bare feet on the cold bathroo m floor, she brushe d
her teeth, drenche d her face in a hot towel, pulled a brush through her hair.
Thus fortified, she had the courag e to look at herself in trepidation . The
feared bleary eyes and reddene d nose were not in evidence . Well then,
perhaps she had only been what Cloud-haired mama was wont t o cal l "bein g
a littl e tiddly.
"

She was still half asleep when she went to the front windo w t o begi n he r
dail y monitorin g o f condition s o f orde r an d dis
-
ruption
. Th e whit e squar e o n th e carpe t brough t he r full y awake
.
Marianne, my dear: 1 forgot to tell you that my driver, Aghrehond, will pick
you up on Saturday morning, about 9:00.
My sister, Ellat, conveys her delight that you will be with us.
She will be your chaperone and constant companion. No one will be given any
excuse to criticize.
All will be very proper.
If you do not have riding clothes, Ellat can provide them.

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I
look forward to the weekend with much pleasure. Thank you for a lovely
evening.
She read this twice, confused . So she had agreed to spend th e weeken d i n
Wanderl y afte r all
. Ho w coul d hi s siste r hav e known, if he had left this note just
last night? Last night? She shoo k he r hea d again
, s o confuse d tha t sh e di d no t se e th e las t word on his
note. He had thought long before adding it, not truly sure that he meant it.
He would have been much discom-
fitte d t o kno w sh e di d no t eve n se e it . Sh e crumple d th
e note
.
Lord. Riding clothes. Of course, she did have Mama's. And ridin g clothe s
didn'
t chang e fro m generatio n t o generation
. Sh e woul d hav e t o d o som e washing—an d the n ther e woul d b
e dinner. They would undoubtedly dress for dinner—if not for-
mally, at least up. Could she wear the silk again? She stood, los t i n
thought
, onl y reluctantl y realizin g tha t th e phon e wa s ringing.
"Marianne?
" Harve y a t hi s mos t charming
. Everythin g withi n her leapt up and assumed a posture of defense. "I
wanted to than k yo u fo r tellin g m e abou t Zahmani
. I kne w m y aunt
, tha t is, Madame Delubovoska, was in the States, but I had no idea tha t
anyon e woul d b e her e fro m Alphenlicht
. I wen t dow n t o
New York to see her yesterday, and I met him. Evidently he's take n a countr
y plac e no t fa r fro m yo u whil e he'
s her e i n th e
U.S. I've been invited for the weekend." The voice was gloat-
ing a little, oleaginous.
"Yes," she stumbled slightly. "I know."
Silence. Then, "Oh? How did you know?"
"I've been invited as well. Did you accept the invitation? "
Dangerou s ground
. Sh e coul d fee l hi s attentio n hardenin g a s h e fixe d i t o
n her
. Unti l thi s conversatio n sh e ha d neve r hear d him mention his
aunt from Lubovosk. The silence stretched,

almos t twangin g wit h strain
. "I'
m going
, o f course, " sh e said
, more to break the silence than for any other reason.
"Marianne, you're obviously not awake. I dislike it when you soun d muddled .
I think you shoul d take a few minute s to discuss this."
Sh e wa s honestl y dumbfounded
. "Wha t i s ther e t o discuss
?
I've already accepted the invitation . It was very nice of him to ask me. "
"We have to discuss," he said in a voice of ice, "whether it's appropriat e
for you to go at all."
Ordinarily
, I woul d com e unhinge d a t thi s point
, .sh e thought

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, bu t thi s i s no t ordinarily
. I a m 100
1 point s ahead
. I ha d a lovel y evening. The girls in the picture on my wall are
setting lights in the street . I have a real medicin e bag full of good
influence s protectin g m y home
. "I'
m sorr y yo u hav e an y concer n abou t it, " sh e sai d i n a
voic e tha t sounde d unflustered
. "I'v e accepted
.
Pleas e don'
t b e disturbe d o n m y account
, Harvey
. Hi s siste r i s staying with him, and he assures me that it will be
quite proper."
Silence.
Silence.
Oh, Lord, she thought . I've really done it. He will be so angry he'll cut off
my allowance altogether and tell me to give u p schoo l entirely
. Whoops
, ther e goe s th e graduat e degree
.
Ice voice. "I'm sure it will be quite proper. I'll look forward t o seein g
yo u there
, Marianne
. Tr y t o dres s appropriately
. I
hate it when you embarrass me." Gentle return of the phone t o th e cradle
, buz z o n th e line
, Mariann e sittin g u p i n bed
, staring at the wall.
"Harvey
, i f yo u d o anythin g mea n abou t m y money
, I'l l g o directly to the head of your departmen t at the universit y and
tel l hi m yo u trie d t o rap e m e whe n I wa s thirteen.
" Sh e sai d this to the wall, almost meaning it. She did not know where the
idea had come from. She had not thought of any such reprisa l before
. "Blackmai l Harvey?
" sh e wondere d a t herself
.
" I suppos e I coul d tr y it . Woul d h e tel l th e worl d i t
wa s al l m y fault? "
Well
, le t hi m tel l th e worl d i t wa s al l th e faul t o f a
thirteen
-
year-ol d girl
. Te n year s ag o peopl e migh t hav e believe d that
.
Te n year s ag o peopl e actuall y wrot e tha t father s an d olde r
brother s weren'
t t o blam e fo r sexuall y abusin g six-year-old s

becaus e th e littl e girl s wer e "seductive.
" Publi c opinio n o n th e subject of rape and child abuse and incest had
changed a lot in the last ten years. She considered. One could make quite a
case. His succession of Cheryls and Randis were very, very young. An
occasional one might be under eighteen. The ques-

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tion could be asked. It would stir up quite a storm. On the other hand, Harvey
would probably devote all his resources to proving that she, Marianne , was a
maladjusted , possibly neu-
rotic spinster with an overactive imagination .
"Oh, Lord," she said. "I don't want to do that."
"Yo u don'
t wan t t o dro p ou t o f school
, either, " he r inne r self replied . "One more semester , and the
doctorat e is yours, Mist Princess. One more semester, and you can go hunting
for a teaching job somewhere. Out in public. With people."
A s always
, whe n sh e reache d tha t poin t i n he r rumination
, sh e stoppe d thinkin g abou t i t entirely
. I t wa s on e thin g t o ge t th e degree
; i t wa s somethin g els e t o figur e ou t wha t sh e wa s going
to do with it. That was what Harvey always meant when he said she was not a
serious student. She didn't really want to teach, or write, or do research .
What she really wante d to d o wa s wor k wit h horses
, o r mayb e wit h animal s i n general
.
When she had been twelve, she had been sure that she would b e a
veterinarian
. I t ha d bee n al l sh e coul d tal k about
, al l sh e planned for.
"What am I going to do with a degree in ethnology?" There was no answer. "One
day at a time," she said. "Just take it on e da y a t a time.
" Thi s day
, fo r example
. A
Friday
. Whic h passed, as such days do, interminabl y but inevitably .
When Makr Avehl's driver, a pleasantly round man, arrived o n Saturda y
morning
, sh e gav e hi m he r suitcas e an d followe d him to the big car
somewhat apprehensively. She had repudiated the blackmail idea, reflecting
that she was almost certainly not stron g enoug h t o se e i t through
, an d sh e wa s feelin g th e lac k o f an y effectiv e strateg y t
o protec t hersel f agains t Harve y durin g the weekend. On the other
hand, driven by his nastiness on the phone
, sh e ha d take n mos t o f th e mone y carefull y save d fo r the
new kitchen tile and blown it on the two new outfits in her suitcase, both
extremel y becoming . After all, Makr Avehl had sai d ther e woul d b e a
lo t o f othe r peopl e around
, an d Harve y might not be able to do to her in public what he invariabl y
did

in private. She did not have long to dwell on these various concern s befor e
sh e wa s distracte d fro m he r worrie s b y th e man named Aghrehond.
"Yo u ma y si t i n th r yo e bac k i n lonel y privacy
, miss, " h e sai d t o he r gravely
. "O
u ma y si t i n fron t wit h me
. I shal l as k you very many impertinent questions to improve my English,
whic h a s yo u ca n tel l i s alread y ver y good
, an d yo u shal l reprov e me."
She was amused, as he had intended. "Why should I reprove you?"
" I hav e a curiosit y unbecomin g a perso n o f lowe r rank
. Her e i n Americ a the y preten d ther e i s n o rank
, s o I ca n indulg e myself with—wha t is the word I want?—impunity .

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Page 56

Faultless-
ness. Correct? It will give me bad habits, however, when I
retur n t o th e lan d o f th e Kavi
. Wher e yo u cal l Alphenlicht.
"
He looked at her hopefully , and Mariann e gesture d at the front seat,
indicating she would share it with him.
Whe n the y ha d reache d th e highwa y an d wer e heade d sout h at
a conservative speed, he said, "You may call me Green.
This is what part of my name means, and it is much easier to sa y tha n
Ah-Gray-Hond
. Gree n sound s almos t English
. Jus t a s
Mak r Aveh l sound s ver y Scottis h whe n i t i s sai d quickly
. Mac
-
ravail. That is a good name for a chieftain, isn't it? Green is a goo d nam
e fo r a butler
. I a m als o a butle r an d secretar y an d man who does a little of
everything. What you would call..."
"A handyman," she suggested.
H e shoo k hi s head
. "No
. Tha t i s on e wh o doe s repairin g o f tilings. I mean something
else. I am not good at repairing things. If this car should stop itself, we
would be quite forsake n unti l someon e cam e t o hel p us
. A
tin y nail
, even
, I wil l hi t my thumb instead."
"Me, too," she confessed . "I'm always stoppin g up my garbag e disposer
. I can'
t mak e stapler s wor k fo r an y lengt h o f time. They always jam."
"Ah
. Tha t surprise s me
. I thin k perhap s yo u hav e bee n victim of an adverse enchantment, a
small annoyance spell perhaps
, nothin g ver y dangerous
. Fo r me
, mechanica l thing s wor k well
, always
, i t i s onl y I a m clums y wit h m y hands
. You
, now
, wil l no t hav e suc h troubl e i n future
. I a m sur e ou r Varun a will take care of this."

"Your—who?"
"Ah
. Mak r Avehl
. The—Prim e Minister
, the y say
. Mis-ter
-
Zah-man-ee . In the land of Kavi we say 'Sir' or 'the Zahmani. '
'Varuna
' i s like—oh
, a powerfu l priest
. Ver y mighty

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Page 57

, an d a great man. Good to listen to. But I beat him playing cribbage.
He is what you would call a very lousy cribbage player."
"I don't play cribbage," Marianne admitted.
"I will teach you," he said with enormous satisfaction, turn-
ing off the highway as he did so. They were traveling between tree-line d
fields
, white-fenced
, velve t gree n an d decorate d wit h horses. "When you come to
Alphenlicht , there are long winter time s wit h nothin g t o do
. The n w e wil l pla y cribbage.
"
"Am I to come to Alphenlicht?"
"Most assuredly. You are one of the Kavi. One has only to loo k i n you r
fac e t o se e that
. D
o no t al l th e Kav i com e t o thei r ow n land
? Mos t certainly
. Mak r Aveh l wil l se e t o it.
"
Sh e wa s stil l amused
. "Wha t i f I don'
t wan t t o go?
"
"Yo u wil l wan t t o go
. Th e Kav i alway s wan t t o go.
"
"Is that woman—Madam e Delubovoska—i s she one of the
Kavi?
" sh e asked
, unprepare d fo r hi s respons e t o thi s mor e o r les s innocen t
question
.
H e screeche d th e ca r t o a halt
, wipe d hi s fac e repeatedl y with a handkerchief . "Listen, " he said
at last, "the Varuna has asked her to come to him for the weekend. This is a
very dangerous thing. He knows this, now, maybe too late. That woman
, sh e is..
. ther e i s a word
. Someon e wh o doe s no t car e abou t anyone
? Wh o take s othe r peopl e and..
. use s the m up
?
Ther e i s a word?
"
"A psychopath ? A sociopath? " offered Marianne , doubting that this was what
he meant . It evidentl y was exactl y what he meant, for he nodded repeatedly
, still moppin g his face and neck.
"That is it. Listen to me. Makr Avehl is wise, oh, very wise an d great
. Trul y a Varun a fo r hi s people
. S
o wise
. Bu t no t smart sometimes, I think. Sometimes I think I am smarter. He
says so, too. When I win at cribbage, he says so. So, it may b e thi s woma
n i s a Kavi
. On e tim e certainl y he r peopl e wer e so. Now, is she? Or has she
done forbidden things so not to be called Kavi anymore? Makr Avehl, he must
know, he says.
So, he asks her to come spend the weekend, so he can talk to

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her
, liste n t o her
, fin d out
. Now
, listen
. I d o no t thin k i t i s smart to have you come at the same time. Not
a smart move.
So, you be careful. Do not ask any questions where she can hea r you
. B
e a simple
, prett y littl e kinswoma n excep t whe n you are alone with Makr Avehl.
Or me, of course."
H e ha d frightene d he r rathe r badly
, an d sh e huddle d i n he r corner of the front seat while he pulled
the car back onto the roa d an d continue d thei r journey
. The y ha d entere d a forest
, and the light splashed through the windshield at them, broken by leaf lace
into glimmerin g spatters . "Wha t do you mean , forbidde n things?
" sh e aske d a t last
.
H e shoo k hi s head
. "D
o yo u kno w Zurvan?
"
Sh e tol d hi m wha t sh e ha d hear d a t th e lecture
. "That'
s al l
I know. Zurvan is your god."
"More than that. Both male and female is Zurvan. Both dar k an d light
. Bot h pai n an d joy
. On e wh o include s all
. I n balance . Now, if somebody tried to upset the balance , to make more
dark than light, that would be forbidden. That person woul d no t b e Kavi
. Whe n yo u ar e alon e wit h Mak r Avehl
, yo u ask about the shamans. You know that word?"
She nodded , amazed at this tack and scarcely believin g that sh e wa s
listenin g t o thi s od d talk
.
"Russia has lots of black shamans," he said. "In places where the government
does not go. There are places like that, even in Russia. Forests, deep chasms
in wooded places. So, no w Lubovos k ha s shamans
, too
. The y sa y the y don'
t nee d an y religio n there
, yo u know
. No t i n Russia
, no.
" H e laughe d as though this were very funny. "But still, they brought
those black shaman s to Lubovosk . To learn, do you suppose ? Or to teach. Or,
maybe , just to make a great confusion . Anyhow , yo u b e a quie t
inconspicuou s perso n an d don'
t mak e tha t woma n pa y muc h attentio n t o you.
" The y drov e o n fo r a tim e i n silence
.
"Can the Kavi—can Makr Avehl do tricks? I mean," she said hastily, seeing his
expression of disapproval, "can he do—
supernatural things?"
"Wha t sor t o f things
? Kav i ca n d o man y ver y wonderfu l things, certainly."
"Coul d he—oh

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, coul d h e delive r a lette r int o a locke d room
?
Could he make a phone hook itself up so that he could call someone?"

Aghrehon d laughed. "Oh, these are only little things. Of course. Any Kavi
could do simple things like these. What is it , afte r all
, bu t movin g somethin g ver y small?
" H
e wen t o n chucklin g t o himself
, an d sh e coul d no t tel l i f h e wer e teasin g her or not. He
drove for a few miles in silence, then pointed awa y t o th e right
. "Ther e i s th e hous e w e hav e rente d fo r thi s season. Not so
beautifu l as the Residenc e in Alphenlicht , but very nice."
I t glowe d gentl y i n th e mornin g sun
, white-columne d ove r it s ros e brick
, gentle d wit h ivy
, stretchin g alon g th e curv e o f th e hil l i n wide
, welcomin g wings
. Mak r Aveh l ha d no t ye t returne d from his busines s in New York ,
she was told, but she felt no lack of welcome as Aghrehond introduced her to
Ellat
Zahmani, Makr Avehl's sister, a stout middle-aged woman with a charmin g
smil e wh o offere d he r a secon d breakfast
, a sun
-
drenched library, a brief expedition on horseback, or a walk aroun d th e
gardens
. Laughing
, Mariann e accepte d th e secon d breakfast and a walk in the gardens. It
was there that Makr
Aveh l foun d them
.
He kissed Ellat on the cheek, then Marianne, in precisely the same way, so
quickly that she could not take alarm. "Agh-
rehon d ha s gon e t o th e trai n t o mee t you r brother, " h e
said
.
'Tahit i wil l arriv e late r thi s afternoon
. I thin k w e wil l no t cal l her Tahiti, however. We will be very
dignified, very political, very correct. We will all say Madame Delubovoska."
" I wil l kee p ver y quiet, " Mariann e said
. "You r cribbag e partner suggested it."
"Yo u see!
" Ellat'
s voic e wa s serious
. Sh e shoo k he r head
.
"Mak r Avehl
, I' m no t alon e i n thinkin g thi s i s a mistake
. Ba d enough to invite her, but to have the child here—forgiv e me,
Marianne, I know you're not a child, but anyone younger than
I am gets called a child when I am feeling motherly—t o have the child here
may stir her up. She's not likely to enjoy the ide a o f reinforcements
. A
n America n Kavi
? She'l l hat e th e idea."
"Wha t i s a Kavi?
" demande d Marianne
. "Gree n use d tha t word. Am I one? How did I get to be one?"

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"Ah, well," Makr Avehl drew them together. "Your father, dea r Marianne
, wa s a Kavi
. Almos t certainly
. I' m no t abso
-
lutely sure, can't be until I check the library at home, but I

thin k he was a cousi n whos e famil y left Alphenlich t som e fift y year s
ago
. The y cam e t o Americ a wit h a fe w relatives
. Ther e may have been some intermarriage . Now, I
am sure who your mothe r was
. Sh e wa s th e daughte r o f a n officia l i n th e Al
-
phenlicht embassy in Washington. All of these people were—
or could have been—Kavi , which is simpl y our name for the hereditary family
which governs Alphenlicht. Some consider i t a kin d o f dynasty
, other s a kin d o f priesthood
, bu t i t mean s n o mor e tha n yo u wis h i t t o i n you r
case
. I t wa s wha t I ha d i n mind when I called you a kinswoman . Do you
mind?"
"Is Harvey one?"
Mak r Aveh l shoo k hi s head
. "W
e generall y thin k o f lineag e as coming through the mother. When we use
the word Kavi, we don't only mean bloodlines, we mean other things, too—
matter s o f belie f an d behavior
. No
; I muc h doub t you r hal f brother could be Kavi."
Ellat obviously thought this might have upset Marianne, and sh e starte d t
o explain
. "I
n Lubovosk
, afte r th e separation
, ther e was a good deal of racial mixing with another line."
"Shamans?" nodded Marianne.
"There," exclaimed Ellat. "Aghrehond talks too much, Makr
Avehl. He can't learn to keep his mouth shut."
"I think I'm the culprit, Ellat. Marianne and I had occasion to discuss
shamans in another context. Yes. Black shamans, devi l worshipers
. W
e don'
t us e th e wor d 'Kavi
' fo r an y o f tha t line. I suppos e Aghrehon d told you to be prudentl y
quiet about all this with Tahiti here?"
"Yes, he told me. The problem is, I don't know how you're goin g t o avoi d
th e subject
. Devi l worship
, shamanis m an d similar things happen to be Harvey' s favorite professiona
l topic, an d he'l l b e afte r i t lik e a ca t afte r a mouse.
"
"Is that so? I hadn't considere d that. I knew, of course, that he has written
on the subject of Alphenlicht—I'v e read some of it. But I hadn't thought that
his interest extended to Lubo-
voska n cultura l attributes..
. .Well
, o f cours e i t would
. Hi s kinfol k are there ! I wonde r how old he was when he first met them

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? Whe n h e firs t learne d o f them
? Ho w ol d wa s h e whe n his mother died?"
"I t seem s t o m e h e wa s te n o r eleven
. Ol d enoug h t o resen t
Papa Zahmani marrying again so soon, only a year later. I

know Harvey went to Lubovos k or somewher e over there when h e wa s
twenty-on e o r -two.
" H
e ha d bee n bac k onl y briefl y whe n Mam a ha d died
. Sh e woul d no t forge t that
. "Th e tri p was a graduatio n presen t from Papa. Then, I know he went
again, that same year, just before Papa died."
"Wel l then
, h e wil e issue l b e wel l u p o n th e subject
, an d w e ma y expec t hi m t o rais s whic h w e woul d prefe r
no t t o discus s in the compan y we will have. I'll take him in hand at
lunch .
Ellat, you'll have to manage him tonight. Divert him."
"I f yo u hav e an y ver y prett y guests, " suggeste d Marianne
, "that might do it."
Ella t shoo k he r head
, frowning
. "Th e Winston-Forbese s ar e coming to dinner tonight. Their daughter is
very attractive, but ver y young.
"
"He'l l lik e that, " sai d Marianne
, withou t thinkin g an d with
-
out seeing the odd, distracte d look which Makr Avehl fixed on her. "The
younger, the better."
I t seeme d fo r a tim e tha t sh e migh t hav e bee n concerne d
abou Aghrehon t nothing
. Harve y arrive d i n th d friends e bi g car . H
, chattin greete g wit h d a s thoug h the y wer e ol e d Mak r
Avehl with courtesy, Ellat with gallantry, Marianne with a proper peck on the
cheek and a smile which only she could have recognized as ominous.
Marianne took a deep breath and put herself out to be pleas-
ant. "How was the trip down, Harvey? Is there a station near?"
"Abou t hal f a n hou r away
. I t wa s a ver y pleasan t trip
. Ver y kind of you to have asked me and my little sister down, sir.
As a sometime student, Marianne does not often get this kind of treat."
Charming smile. Guileless voice.
Sometime student.
Mariann e fume d impotently .
"You'r e mos t welcome
, Professo r Zahmani, " Ella t bein g equally charming . "Your sister
honors our home, and you we welcom e becaus e o f you r interes t i n ou
r par t o f th e world
. D
o come in. You have just time to erase the stains of travel before lunch."
"I'll show him in, Ellat. Professor, I wanted to talk with yo u abou t tha t
pape r yo u di d i n th e
Journal of
Archaeology—
las t Jun e wa s it?—comparin g th e Cav e o f Ligh t wit h th e
barso m prophecies of the Medes...." And Makr Avehl led Harvey away into the
upper reaches of the house, still talking.

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Ella t squeeze d he r arm
. "Don'
t worry
. W
e hav e tw o othe r couple s a s luncheo n guests.
"
"Tahiti?"
"Not until muc h later this afternoon . She is drivin g down .
No w w e wil l enjo y ou r lunch
. Mak r Aveh l ha s tol d m e hi s impulsive invitatio n to your
brother—no , it is a half brother, only, isn't it?—well , that this invitatio
n brings us a guest who turn s ou t t o b e unwelcome
. I a m gla d yo u overcam e you r dislik e of him enough to come. We
will stay well apart from him, and
Makr Avehl will keep him occupied."
An d h e di d kee p hi m occupie d al l durin g lunch
, Harve y s o fa r forgettin g himsel f a t time s a s t o le t hi s
voic e ris e i n tem
-
peramenta l disagreement
. Mak r Aveh l receive d thes e expos
-
tulation s gravely
, nodding
, commenting
, smiling
. Harve y wa s certainly not getting the better of the argument, but the
sound of his sharp-edge d voice made Mariann e shift uncomfortabl y in her
chair.
Ella t nudge d he r knee
. "Don'
t worr y abou t it . S o fa r the y haven't gotten past the fifth
century A.D. They're still talking abou t Kin g Khosrow'
s persecutio n o f th e heretics.
"
"How can you tell?"
"It'
s wha t Mak r Aveh l alway s talk s abou t whe n h e doesn'
t want to talk about something else," she smiled. "Even Prime
Ministers and High Priests are men, and men are somewha t predictable
, yo u know
. Besides
, h e lectures
. H
e ha s thi s dread
-
ful habit of pontificatin g at great length about things others don'
t car e about
. Hadn'
t yo u noticed?
"
"He does a little," Marianne admitted, "but I don't really mind. The things he
has to say are interesting."
"Even if you were not interested , he would still wave his finger at you and
tell you all about it. I tell him, 'Makr Avehl, try to listen sometimes. When
you cease talking and there is only silence, it is because you have ended all
conversation. '
H e onl y laugh s a t me

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. Sometimes
, I think
, h e trie s t o d o better
, but he forgets. I tell myself it is because he is shy."
"Shy
? Th e Prim e Minister
? Shy?
"
Ella t gav e he r a conspiratoria l look
. "Yes
. Shy
. H
e talk s a t suc h grea t lengt h abou t impersona l thing s t o avoi
d worryin g abou t people
. Oh
, I hav e see n hi m spen d grea t hour s thinkin g u p tortuou s
reason s wh y peopl e behav e a s the y do
, al l becaus e

he will not admit they are simply ignorant, or silly, or tired.
He is a great one for explanations, Makr Avehl, but only when he must. Most
times he would rather not think about people.
The y confus e him.
"
This was a new thought for Marianne, and she glanced at
Makr Avehl, catching the brilliant three-cornere d smile he threw her way and
feeling her face flushing as it seemed to do each time she looke d at him.
Shy. Well . It was an explanation , though not one she was sure she believed.
Perhaps Ellat was onl y teasin g her
.
Sh e turne d t o th e gues t o n he r othe r sid e an d smile d mon
-
osyllabic responses to a long, one-sided conversatio n about politics
, turnin g bac k t o Ella t i n relie f a littl e whil e later
. "Tha t poor woman on Makr Avehl's other side isn't getting into the
conversation much." She was watching the woman covertly, a quie t woma n wit
h a quiet
, impressionabl e face
.
"That poor woman is the LaPlante Professor of Archaeology at the University of
Ankara. I wouldn't worry about her. She will probably write some paper in one
of the journals taking issu e wit h you r hal f brothe r o n som e
abstrus e academi c sub
-
ject."
"Good Lord! Does Harvey know who she is?"
"I doubt it. Makr Avehl introduced her as Madame Andami.
That's her husband across the table from you. He's very deaf and makes no
attempt at conversation, but he enjoys food very much. I like them a good
deal. She is interesting and he is restful. However, Madame Andami is not the
name she uses professionally. "
"So Harvey has been set up to make a fool of himself. Do
I get the impression you all do not like my brother much?"
Ellat looked shocked . "What would make you say such a thing
? I thin k Mak r Aveh l know s tha t yo u d o no t lik e hi m ver
y much. He knows this so well that he spent most of an hour on the phone with
me yesterday, talking of you, and of your half brother. Very serious talk. So
I cannot tell you not to take him seriously
, a s I migh t tel l som e othe r youn g thing

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. A
gentl e warning, you know the kind of thing? No, to you I say some-
thing else again. He may seem to be invulnerable and very strong. Sometimes he
is very strong indeed, but he is not invulnerable." She gave Marianne a
meaningful look which

confuse d her enormously , then giggled , unexpectedly , an al-
mos t shockin g soun d comin g fro m tha t dignifie d person
. "So
, eve n i f w e ar e sympatheti c t o you r sid e o f whateve r
proble m brews, we have done nothing Professor Zahmani could com-
plain of. If he is not civil enough to converse across the table an d fin d
ou t wha t hi s luncheo n partne r does—well
, wha t occur s thereafte r must be his fault , no?"
Marianne
, bein g human
, foun d th e though t o f Harvey'
s dis
-
comfiture very pleasant indeed.
Afte r lunch , Mak r Aveh l suggeste d that they all go riding .
Harvey had not brought riding clothes. He demurred , explain-
in g tha t h e woul d b e happ y spendin g a fe w quie t hour s i n
th e library
. Th e other s lef t hi m ther e wit h Ella t whil e the y wen t
into the afternoo n sun and the freshnes s of spring. Madam e
Andam i cas t asid e he r quiet
, listenin g pos e an d rod e lik e a centaur
, laughin g whe n Mariann e complimente d he r o n he r seat. "I have
ridden donkeys, mules, camels, even elephants.
Yo u hav e no t a ba d sea t yourself
, youn g woman.
"
" I haven'
t reall y ridde n i n years
. Befor e m y mothe r die d we lived in the country, and I had my own
horse. I still miss him. "
"Ah, horses are a very great love to many girls of that age.
I hav e bee n tol d i t i s somethin g ver y Freudian.
"
" I don'
t thin k so, " laughe d Marianne
. " I thin k i t i s a t tha t age that boys begin to grow so much
bigger and stronger, and w e girl s fee l lef t out
. O
n th e bac k o f a horse
, on e ignore s th e fact that one is female. "
"You dislike being female?"
"No t really
. I t jus t makes..
. complications.
"
I n midafternoo n the y wer e me t a t th e en d o f a curvin g lan
e by Aghrehond , splendid in a plaid waistcoat , who offered them champagn e
an d frui t fro m th e tailgat e o f a statio n wago n befor e they
returned by a more direct route, Makr Avehl riding at
Marianne's side.
"I did not wish to appear to monopoliz e your attention s earlier," he said.
"But now, we have only a little way back to the house, and I can have you all

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to myself while the others go on ahead in such impatience . You got on very
well with
Madame Andami."
" I lik e her
. Sh e wa s tellin g m e abou t he r wor k i n Iran
,

befor e everythin g ther e wen t u p i n smoke
. Th e place s hav e such wonderful names. Persepolis. Ecbatana. Susa. I
read about them in school, of course, though it's not an area of the world
I have done any reading on recently."
"The y hav e abou t the m somethin g o f th e fictional
, isn'
t tha t so? They were real, nonetheless. To us it does not seem that lon g
ago
, possibl y becaus e ou r childre n hea r storie s tol d aroun d the
fire of things whic h happene d fiftee n centurie s back. Such stories carry
an immediacy one does not get from books...."
"Whic h i s wh y som e countrie s carr y suc h ol d grudges, "
offere d Marianne
. "Wha t childre n lear n a t thei r grandmas
' knees
, they act upon as thoug h it happene d yesterday. "
He nodded gravely, even sadly. "Perhaps that is true. Those who have an oral
tradition full of old wrongs and old revenge d o see m t o figh t th e
sam e battle s forever
. I f th e Iris h wer e no t forever singing of their ancient wrongs—or
writing poetry abou t it..
. well
, w e se e th e resul t i n ever y morning'
s news
-
papers,"
"I s tha t th e kin d o f thin g betwee n Alphenlich t an d Lubo
-
vosk? Or would you rather not talk about it?"
"Stories told at my grandma's knee? Oh, yes, Marianne.
For my grandma remembered it happening. The country was always like the two
halves of an hourglass , connecte d with a narro w waist
, a hig h mountai n pas s whic h wa s difficul t i n th e best of
times. To separate us, Russia had only to take that pass.
Then the northern bit became a 'protectorate.' The general's name was
Lubovosk—thus the name of the country. Later, of course
, i t becam e a 'people'
s republic.
' Unde r eithe r nam e i t was high, and remote, and difficult to reach.
Grandmothe r told m e tha t a t firs t w e pai d n o attention
. W
e continue d t o g o bac k an d fort h fro m nort h an d south
, bu t w e ha d t o g o ove r th e mountain instead of across the pass.
Then there began to be changes in Lubovosk. The visitors who came from there
came to stay. Visitors from Alphenlicht who went there didn't return.
Ther e wer e whispers
, rumor s o f evil.
"
"Aghrehond said I could ask you about shamans, but not when others were
about."
The expressio n on his face was one of embarrassment , al-
most shame. "Yes. I am ashamed to say it. Black shamans, from the land of the

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Tungus. Dealers in necromancy. People

who would trifle with the great arts. Dealers in sorcery. Ah.
You don't believe in any of this, do you?"
"It'
s not..
. it' s no t anythin g I'v e eve r though t abou t excep t as.. .
as... "
"A
s a par t o f th e superstition s o f primitiv e peoples
? Perhap s as survivals in the modern world? Little unquestioned things we
learn as children ? Fairy tales? No, you needn't apologize .
Le t m e explai n i t t o yo u i n a wa y yo u wil l understand
.
"Let us say a woman is driving a car. There is an accident, and her child is
pinned beneath that car. She is a little woman, but she lifts that car and
frees her child . You know of such things happening, yes? Well, let us suppose
that before she lifte d th e car
, sh e dance d widdershin s aroun d th e spar e tir e an d called upon
the spirits of the internal combustion engine, then raised up the car to
rescue her child. Do you follow what I
say?"
"Yo u mea n th e firs t thin g i s unusual
, bu t natural
. Th e secon d thin g w e woul d cal l magic?
"
He beamed at her. "Precisely. The same thing happened in bot h cases
, bu t onl y i n on e woul d w e cal l i t magic
. Ther e i s much of which man is capable, much he is unaware of, all ver y
natural
. Th e worshiper s o f Zurvan
, th e Magi
, ar e scholar s of this knowledge . The shamans , too, are scholars , but
they us e th e knowledg e i n a differen t way
. The y teac h tha t th e powe r comes through the ritual, through
dancing around the spare tire
. The y teach
, whe n the y teac h a t all—whic h i s no t often
, fo r the y prefe r t o b e mysterious—tha t th e powe r come s
throug h demons, godlings, devils. They teach that in order to obtain the
power, it is necessary to propitiate these devils. Followers o f Zurva n
teac h tha t th e powe r i s simpl y there
. W
e ma y us e rituals to help us focus our thoughts, but we know they are
simpl y devices
, no t necessar y functions
. A
m I makin g an y sense to you at all?"
"Yo u mea n tha t thei r demon s an d devil s don'
t reall y ex
-
ist. ..."
H e shoo k hi s head
, reache d ove r t o touc h he r hand s wher e they lay loosely
gripping the reins, his face dappled with sun-
ligh t a s h e leane d towar d her
. "Woul d no t exist
, Marianne
, except for them. The act of worship, of invocation, can bring

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things into being which did not exist of their own volition—
temporary demons, momentary gods."
His intensity made her uncomfortable . "Isn't it all more or less harmless? "
she said, trying to minimiz e the whole matter.
"Mere superstition? Regrettable, but not... not..."
"No t dangerous
? Whe n th e ritua l demand s blood
, o r maim
-
ing
, o r death
, o r bindin g forever?
" Hi s voic e ha d becom e aus
-
tere
, hi s expressio n forbiddin g an d remote
. "Th e differenc e between a true religion—and there are many which share
as-
pect s o f truth—an d a dangerou s cul t i s onl y this
: I n th e on e th e individua l i s free d t o gro w an d liv e an
d learn
; i n th e othe r th e individua l i s subordinate d t o th e wil l
o f a hierarchy
, enslave d to the purposes of that hierarchy, forbidden to learn except what
the cult would teach. You have only to look at the rules which govern the
servants of a religion to know whether its god is
God indeed, or devil!" He passed his hand across his face, then laughed
unsteadily. "Listen how I preach. Aghrehond should not have told you to
question me about this. My anxiety is too clos e t o m y skin
. Come
, w e wil l rid e u p t o th e other s an d thin k no more of it."
But when they rode into the gravel courtyar d near the sta-
bles
, Mariann e though t o f i t again
, fo r a lon g blac k ca r stoo d there
, th e blac k an d re d diplomati c fla g o f Lubovos k flutterin g
ove r it s hood
.
"I had not expected her for several hours yet," said Makr
Avehl
. Then
, a s h e sa t there
, lookin g a t th e flag
, h e wa s struc k wit h a comprehensio n s o violen t tha t h e
swaye d i n th e saddle
.
Tabiti
. Madam e Delubovoska
. Harvey'
s aunt
, hi s kinswoman
.
Why had he not made this simple connection before? If Harvey had not had the
wit to pick out the things he had given to
Marianne
, i f someon e els e ha d don e so
, someon e sly
, vile

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, deeply schooled in all the black arts—why, it would have been
Tabiti.
"Lor d o f Light, " h e thought
, terrified
. "O
f cours e i t woul d have been Tabiti, and I have brought Marianne here,
like bring-
in g a lam b int o a cav e o f wolverines.
" The y ha d bee n s o casua l with one another when he'd met them in New
York, he hadn't realize d tha t the y wer e no t merel y related
, no t merel y acquain
-
tances
, bu t actuall y akin, sympathetic
. H
e turne d t o Mariann e

with some urgency , knuckle s white where they gripped the reins. "Wait," he
warned himself. "Do not jump too quickly.
Yo u ar e no t sur e tha t thi s i s true.
" Bu t h e wa s sure
, s o sur e tha t hi s fac e wa s te n year s older
, draw n wit h concentration
, when he turned to take Marianne' s hand.
"Kinswoman
, I wil l as k yo u i n advanc e t o forgiv e m e i f I
pay you little attention for the next several hours. Now that I
hav e learne d a bi t mor e abou t you r hal f brothe r an d hi s
rela
-
tionship to Lubovosk, I think it was a foolish mistake to invite him into my
house, a foolish mistake to invite Tabiti here. The dimension s of my
foolhardines s were unclear. I could not be more sorry. Will you forgiv e me?"
Sh e manage d t o creat e a smile
, eage r t o giv e hi m whateve r hel p sh e could
. "I'l l pa y n o attentio n a t all.
"
"Stay with Ellat," he counseled. "Stick to her like a leech."
"Ellat may get rather bored with that."
"Ella t wil l prefe r it, " h e grated
.
The y wen t int o th e house
, t o al l appearance s a cheerful
, chattering group, through the open doors of the library where
Ella t awaite d them
, he r fac e slightl y draw n wit h strain
. A
s
Mariann e entere d th e room
, sh e sa w nothin g bu t th e tw o figure s across it, Harvey and the
Madame, faces alike as twins, eager wit h som e strang e avidit y sh e
coul d no t identify
, eye s hungr y and glittering. They were staring only at Marianne, and she
fel t thei r eye s lik e a blow
.
Harve y cam e t o tak e he r b y th e hand
, hi s ow n pal m we t and sticky as though he had been working in the
sun. "Well, littl e sister
. Bac k fro m th e ride

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? Com e mee t a relativ e o f ours.
"
She nodded, murmuring "of course" as he drew her from Makr
Avehl's side across the room into a cold, threatenin g space where it was all
she could do to smile between tight lips in acknowledgmen t o f th e
introduction
. Madame'
s eye s wer e lik e those of a bird of prey; they seemed to Whirl like
wheels of fire
, an d he r voic e ha d serrate d edge s t o it , a kin d o f
velve t fil e raspin g i n he r head
.
"I'm so pleased to get to meet you at last, my dear. My nephe w ha s
mentione d yo u s o often
, tol d m e s o muc h abou t you
. Ho w i s th e schoo l going
? Di d I understan d yo u ha d ha d some academic difficulties?"
Marianne tried to deny this, tried to say that she had had

no difficulty , except in carryin g a heavy load of course work in addition to
working full time, but the words stuck in her throat.
She heard Harvey's voice as though through a pool of thick water, thick, cold
water, gelid, about to crystallize into ice makin g a thunde r i n he r
ears
. "Oh
, I don'
t thin k Mariann e let s that worry her. She isn't that serious about her
work."
Agai n Mariann e trie d t o protest
, realizin g i n pani c tha t sh e coul d no t breathe
. Sh e wa s suffocating
. The n Ella t wa s besid e her, saying something about Marianne's having
promised to loo k a t th e orchid s i n th e conservatory
, an d sh e wa s draw n away from them and was in another room, leaning
against a wall
, gaspin g fo r breath
.
"What... how..." she gasped. "What happened?"
"It is an amusement for her," said Ellat angrily. "It's some-
thin g she does
. Fo r fun
, I think
. Sh e trie d i t o n me
, bu t Mak r
Aveh l ha d warne d me
. I wil l sho w yo u ho w t o preven t it s happening again. Also,
I've had your things moved out of the gues t win g an d int o m y room
. It'
s a larg e roo m wit h tw o beds
, an d w e wil l shar e it . I thin k i t wil l b e safe r i f yo
u ar e no t alone
.
We'l l g o ther e now.
" An d th e tw o o f the m sneake d awa y up
-
stairs like naughty children, though Ellat continued her angry mutterin g th
e while
. Onc e behin d th e close d door
, Ella t washe d

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Marianne's face with a cool washcloth, as though she had, indeed
, bee n a child
.
"It'
s frightening
, isn'
t it ? I coul d se e you r fac e turnin g red
, as though you couldn' t get your breath. "
"Wha t di d yo u mean
, it' s somethin g sh e does
? I don'
t under
-
stan d what'
s goin g on.
"
"Hav e yo u eve r hear d o f telepathy?
"
"I'v e hear d o f it . I don'
t believ e i n it.
"
"Well
, the n don'
t believ e i n i t i f yo u don'
t wan t to
, Mari
-
anne
, bu t liste n t o m e anyhow
. Tha t woma n dow n there
, that
—
Lubovoskan, " sh e spa t th e wor d a s thoug h i t ha d bee n a
curse
.
"Tha t woma n mad e a ver y stron g telepathi c suggestio n t o yo u
that you could not breathe, that you were suffocating . As I
said, she tried it on me earlier, but Makr Avehl had warned me
. Now
, i f yo u aren'
t comfortabl e wit h th e ide a o f telepathy
, that'
s fine
. Cal l i t sublimina l suggestio n o r something
. O
r pre
-
ten d sh e ha s a transmitte r i n he r pocke t tha t block s you r
brai n

waves . Whatever . She can do it, and you.fel t it."
" I don'
t believ e this, " Mariann e protested
. "Thing s lik e thi s aren't possible."
"Well," said Ellat, "you felt it. Was it false? A result of riding too long,
perhaps? Coming into a warm room out of the air? Dizzyness? Perhaps something
to do with the menstrual cycle—that's always a good explanation for such
things. Hys-
teria?" She waited angrily for Marianne's denial, which did not come. "No. It

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was none of these things. It was an unworthy exercise of certain abilities
which should never be used in such a way. It is a kind of seduction, one of
several kinds they use.
Well, we knew she could do such things. We did not know she would do them;
particularly , we did not think of her doing them here or to you. So you must
either run or confound her. Which is it to be?"
" I wil l confoun d her, " pledge d Marianne
, revulse d b y th e memory of Harvey's hungry, prurient eyes. It had been
Ellat's us e o f th e wor d "seduction
" whic h ha d decide d her
. O
f cours e it was a kind of seduction. A kind very like the one Harvey ha d
bee n tryin g o n he r fo r years
, a seductio n o f power
, o f oppression, of dominance. "I will confound her if I can, but she makes
me feel like Harve y does. I can feel her peeling me, taking my skin off to
look inside, layer by layer. I feel flayed when she looks at me. She scares
me."
"That one scares Makr Avehl himself, girl. But I think we can manage to get
through the evening." She began to clear th e to p o f he r dressin g
table
, beckonin g Mariann e t o a plac e befor e th e mirro r wher e sh e
coul d se e he r ow n frightene d fac e above Ellat's busy hands.
"This," said Ellat, making a specific shape with her left hand, "we call the
'tower of iron.' Make this shape with your hand. No.
Look, at it more closely. That's right. Now this we cal l th e 'wal l whic
h canno t b e moved.
' I wil l tel l yo u abou t these....
" S o th e lesso n began
.
Hours later Marianne sat before the mirror once more, dresse d i n on e o f
th e ne w outfits
, a glitterin g silve r sheath
, hair piled high in a simple, dramatic style which one of Ellat's maids had
done for her. She breathed deeply, setting her own cente r o f bein g hig h
an d balanced
. "Yo u wil l no t ge t m e again
, Harvey, " sh e said
. "No t yo u o r you r aunt.
" Th e woma n i n th e

mirror could be afraid of nothing.
I am a tower of iron, she sang quietly to herself in the litany Ellat had
taught her, moving he r han d i n th e prope r sign
. /
am a fortress of strength, a wall which cannot be moved.
Ella t wa s runnin g a brus h acros s he r shinin g head
, pattin g the full knot whic h she wore low upon her neck . "Remembe r t o
thin k reflection.
Visualiz e lightnin g strikin g a mirro r an d being reflecte d back.
Remember. "
Mariann e shu t he r eyes
, fastenin g he r sparklin g necklac e wit h it s shinin g pendants
. Sh e glittere d al l over
, a gemm y wand, '
bendin g an d swaying
, th e necklac e flashing
. " I remember
, El

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-
lat . I' m tryin g t o remembe r everythin g you'v e said.
"
"I'l l b e righ t besid e you
. There'
s th e dinne r gong
. Shal l w e go down?"
Marianne took a deep breath, nodded, began to breathe slowly
, calmly
, focusin g he r though t upo n strengt h an d will
.
They went into the library as though for a stroll in the gardens, setting
themselves like adamant against the will of Madame, agains t th e ho t
curiosit y i n Harvey'
s avi d eyes
. Wa s i t onl y he r imagination
, though t Marianne
, o r di d h e see m disappointed
?
What did that questioning look to Madame mean? Perhaps they had not expected
her to be able to come down to dinner at all.
Sh e gritte d menta l teet h an d smiled
, visualizin g lightnin g wit h every fiber in her brain.
I am a tower of iron.
Madame came toward her at once, Harvey trailing behind, making Marianne think
irreverently of a mother goose with on e gosling
, Madame'
s expressio n bein g ver y muc h a looking
-
down-the-beak one. She laid a hand on Marianne's shoulder an d Mariann e
steppe d back
, ou t o f he r reach
. Madame'
s eye s glittered at this and she said, "Harvey and I were just discussing
what you might enjoy seeing when you come to Lubovosk with your brother."
I am afire which cannot be put out, sh e thought
. "Really?
"
sh e sai d aloud
. " I hav e no t contemplate d suc h a trip
, an d it'
s unlikely I could travel so far any time soon."
"Oh
, Bitsy
, anythin g i s possible, " sai d Harvey
, smiling
, sipping at his cocktail, lips wet and avid in the soft light of the room,
sucking lips, vampire lips.
"Not for me, I'm afraid," she said, smiling in return. /
am a tower of iron.
"Besides," she turned a spiteful reposte, "if I

traveled to that part of the world, it would be to my mother's people—t o
Alphenlicht.
" Ha d sh e pu t tha t sligh t emphasi s o n my, my mother's people?
Yes. The air boiled around her and she felt Madame' s fury like a blow .
"Ther e i s reall y ver y littl e ther e t o interes t you
, m y child, "
the woman said. "Very little of interest to anyone. It is a country o f

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peasant s an d priests.
"
"Do I hear my name being taken in vain?" asked Makr
Avehl
, offerin g Mariann e a glas s an d takin g he r elbo w i n hi s han
d t o tur n he r awa y towar d othe r guests
. "Wha t i s thi s abou t peasants and priests? Are you talking shop
again, Tahiti?" Mari-
ann e fel t hi s finger s trembl e o n he r arm
, kne w tha t h e wa s almos t a s sun k i n rag e a s Madam e
herself
, fel t hersel f adrif t in these vicious currents which spun around her. /
am a fortress of strength, she told herself, moving away to be introduced to
othe r guests
, Ella t clos e besid e her
.
At dinner, she was at the far end of a long table from Harvey an d Madame
, an d sh e wa s abl e t o ignor e the m fo r moment s a t a time
. Afte r dinner
, the y cam e clos e t o he r again
, th e thrus t of their intentio n as clear as though they had struck at her
with a blade. Makr Avehl spoke to her only casually, as to any other guest.
Ellat stayed close.
/
am a fortress of diamond, Mariann e told herself, concen -
trating upon reflecting their intentions back upon themselves .
She moved her hand into the configurations Ellat had shown her
, the n though t abou t them
, internalize d them
.
A mountain of stone.
Making a hard fist with her right hand. /
cannot be moved or changed. I am the fire which cannot be put out.
Flicke r o f firs t an d secon d finge r o f th e righ t hand
, a tril l o f movement, secretive.
"Hey
, Bitsy, " Harve y called
. "Ho w ar e yo u gettin g bac k t o tow n tomorrow?
"
/
am diamond, Mariann e tol d herself
. " I hadn'
t though t abou t it , Harvey.
" Quietl y assertin g th e while
, /
am iron.
Lef t forefinge r raised
, presse d agains t cheek
.
"The n yo u mus t le t m e driv e yo u back.
" Madame
, gail y importunate
. "You r brothe r ha s alread y consente d t o accom
-
pany me, and your home is on our way."
"Marianne.
" Mak r Avehl
, laughing
. " I a m crushed
! Ha d

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you forgotten so soon that you promised I could drive you back? I have those
papers to pick up which your librarian so kindly offere d to lend to me."
/
am iron. I an adamant.
Smiling, turning to him with a little moue of forgetfulness . "I did promise.
Of course. I'm sorry
, Madame
. Anothe r time
, perhaps.
" /
am the fire which cannot be put out.
"Oh, I am disappointed . Yes, we will certainly make another occasion. I have
not had opportunity to get to know you nearly as well as I should like."
Gentle, caressing, infinitely threat-
ening.
W e ar e lik e Siames e fightin g fish
, though t Marianne
. W
e circle, our fins engorged with blood, ready to die if need be, caugh t u p
i n ou r dance
. Sh e flinche d nervousl y a s Ella t touche d he r o n th e arm.
"Would you like to go up? You said you wanted to ride earl y i n th e
morning.
"
Taking this lead, Marianne nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Ellat. Yes. I am a
little tired. The ride this afternoon was a longer one than I've had in years.
Good night, Madame, Harvey.
Madame Andami, I enjoyed your company today. Mr. Wil-
liams, Betty. I enjoyed our discussion at dinner. Mrs. Williams.
Mr
. Winston-Forbes
, Harriet
, Stephany
. Goo d night
, You r Ex
-
cellency
. I t ha s bee n a ver y pleasan t day.
" T o wal k away
, bac k straight
, fac e calm
, u p th e stairs
.
I am a tower of adamant, I
cannot be moved.
Down the hall with Ellat, into the room, to collapse across the bed, bent
tight around a stomach which heave d an d squirme d withi n her
.
"You did very well," said Ellat, giving her a glass of some-
thin g swee t an d powerfu l whic h melte d warmt h throug h he r and
stopped the heaving.
"Nothing happened," Marianne whispered. "If you'd taken a movie of it, you
wouldn't have seen anything.
Nothing hap-
pened at all. But I
kept feeling them."
"Nothing seemed to happen; very much was happening.
Your half brother has made an alliance. He has done it very suddenly it seems.

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Did he know her before?"
"I never heard him mentio n her name until a day or so ago.
I didn't know he had relatives in Lubovosk."

"He writes mockingly of the Cave of Light. That is a typical
Lubovoska n attitude.
"
" I onl y kno w wha t I tol d yo u earlier
. I thin k h e wen t ther e twice
. Onc e shortl y befor e Mam a died
. Once
, later
, befor e
Papa Zahmani died. When each of them died, Harvey had...
had... "
"Had only recently returned?"
"Had only recently returned," she agreed in a dead voice, rememberin g Dr
. Brown'
s words
, hear d throug h a close d doo r whe n sh e ha d bee n onl y twelve
: " I woul d hav e sai d sh e die d of suffocation , Haurvatat. "
Suffocation . Not being able to breathe
. A
thin g Madam e di d t o peopl e fo r fun
. Ha d Madam e been able to teach that skill to Harvey? Harvey, who had been
rejected by Cloud-haire d mama and told to go find a nice girl his own age? Or
had Madame herself come to confront Cloud-
haire d mam a whe n n o on connectio e els e wa s ther e t o see
, t o remember
?
"Ther e ma y b e n o n a t all, " sai d Ella t firmly
, undoin g th e tin y button s a t th e bac k o f Marianne'
s gown
. "G
o in there and have a nice, hot shower and put on your robe.
Mak r Aveh l wil l com e u p her e befor e h e goe s t o bed
. Afte r a good night's sleep, nothing will look so ominous."
"I'm afraid I won't sleep," she confessed, the vision of Mama an d Madam e i
n intimat e confrontatio n stil l oppressin g her
.
"Anothe r glas s o f wha t I gav e yo u before
, an d yo u wil l sleep."
Makr Avehl's light tap at the door came late, when the party downstair s ha d
broke n u p an d th e soun d o f voice s callin g good
-
nigh t t o on e anothe r ha d falle n int o silence
, whe n light s ha d begu n t o g o ou t i n upstair s window s tha
t Mariann e coul d se e in the opposite wing. He entered quietly, embraced
Ellat, then sat on the edge of Marianne's bed. "Isn't this ridiculous?" he
asked
. " I invit e a lovel y youn g woma n fo r a weekend'
s visit
, all quite properly chaperoned by my sister. I invite her broth-
er , too
, becaus e I a m curious
, an d a n ol d antagonis t o f mine
, becaus e I a m proud
, an d suddenl y al l turn s t o slim e an d wicked
-

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ness. You find it difficult to believe, don't you? Well, so do
I , an d I hav e les s excus e tha n yo u do
. Marianne
, m y dear
, wil l you rise at dawn, please, and go down to the stables where
Aghrehon d wil l mee t yo u an d tak e yo u awa y fro m here
. Leav e your bags. I will bring them when I meet you later in the day

t o driv e yo u home
, a s promised
. Ther e ar e to o man y current s here, too many eddies of greed and
passion. Tell me, Marianne, would... would your half brother benefit in any
material way i f har m cam e t o you?
"
He r throa t wen t dry
, hars h a s sandpaper
. Sh e ha d ha d thos e thoughts
, ha d banishe d them
, ha d pu t the m down
, "buried
, begone
" i n he r ow n litany
, bu t the y lunge d upwar d no w lik e corpse s lon g drowne d an d
broke n fre e o f som e weigh t t o ris e hideously through slimed water
to the surface. She cried out a t th e horro r o f it , al l a t onc e
weepin g i n a stead y flow
. Ella t took her into her arms and held her, saying "Shh, shh. He shouldn't
have asked it so abruptly like that. But you don't protest, Marianne. You
don't protest?"
"No," she cried. "I can't protest, Ellat. I've thought it too many times. I
thought I was wicked to think such a thing, only a wicked
, angr y child
. But
, oh
, i f I died
, h e woul d ge t al l tha t
Mama left me—it's all tied up in Papa Zahmani's estate, and m y shar e o f
Papa'
s estate
, too
. It'
s a lot
. Mor e tha n I eve r wanted or expected. More than anyone could need."
"Ah, " sai d Mak r Avehl
. "S
o he ha s a reason
. Now
, wha t i s her reason?"
Ellat shushed him and gave Mariann e somethin g which sent her into sleep, all
at once, like falling into velvet darkness.
She was still fuzzy at the edges of her mind when they put her int o
Aghrehond'
s car e a t daw n i n th e stableyard
, amon g th e horses clattering out of the place for exercise and the grooms
chattering as they headed for the wooded roads.
"Come, pretty lady," said Aghrehond . "We must be away from here."
"Won't they think I'm terribly rude," she asked, "leaving the party
unannounced this way?"
H e mad e a conspiratoria l fac e wit h muc h scrunchin g o f eyebrow

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s an d mouth
. "Ella t wil l sa y yo u hav e gon e fo r a n earl y ride. This is
strictly true. She will not say 'horseback,' though they may think so. Others
may also desire to ride. So, that is fine, and Makr Avehl will go with them.
It is a large place, is i s not
? Ther e ar e man y mile s o f pleasan t road s aroun d it . Wh o i
s t o wonde r i f yo u ar e no t see n b y anyon e unti l noon
? B
y then
, yo u wil l b e elsewhere
. Tsk
. Sto p frowning
. Yo u mak e your face all frilled, like a cabbage leaf."

She stopped frilling her face and let the day happen . They stopped for
breakfast in a small, seaside town. They shopped for antiques along the
winding streets. They drove through a national monument. They returned to the
small town a little after noon to find Makr Avehl waiting for them with
Marianne' s bags in his car.
"Ther e i s a buffe t luncheo n goin g o n bac k a t th e house, "
he said to Aghrehond . "Some are eating now, others will have luncheo n when
they return from riding. Some friends of Ellat's wil l com e i n t o swel
l th e numbers
. W
e wil l no t b e misse d fo r some time, which is fortunate. " His face
was set, grim, and h e mad e a cover t sig n t o Aghrehon d whic h
Mariann e sa w fro m th e corne r o f on e eye
. "Whe n someon e asks—an d no t unti l then—yo u may say to Ellat in the
hearing of the rest that I
hav e drive n Mariann e bac k earl y i n orde r t o g o o n t o
Wash
-
ington for an early meeting at the State Department. "
"What happened?" she demanded. "Something happened.
What was it?"
He barked a short expletive , choppe d off, as a curse half spoken. "A pack of
feral dogs," he said, "came out of nowhere, accordin g t o th e grooms
. Madam e Andam i wa s bitte n o n th e leg
. Super b rider
, o f course
, an d sh e staye d up
. We'v e sen t her to a physician up in Charlottesville. One of the horses
is cut up a bit. The vet is there now. Someone riding alone—
someone not as fine a rider as Madame Andami, someone out of practice, for
example—might have been seriously injured."
They stood for a moment considering this. "The head groom work s fo r th e
peopl e wh o ow n th e place
, o f course
, a s d o al l the servants except for Ellat's maids and my secretary. He
says he has never known it to happen before. It's horse country. A
pack of feral dogs that would attack horses ? It wouldn' t be tolerated for a
day! They would have been hunted down."
Mariann e did not ask the question s which tumble d into her mind. Did someone
think the dogs were set upon the riders?
Wa s i t a n accident
? Mak r Avehl'
s fac e ha d th e loo k o f on e wh o di d no t wis h t o talk
, t o guess
, t o theorize

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, th e loo k o f a ma n rigidl y bu t barel y unde r control
. H
e wave d Aghrehon d bac k t o the big car as he ushered her into the
smaller one. Over her shoulder , she saw the large car turn back toward
Wanderl y and the house. She remained quiet, let time and miles pass, watched

M s fac e unti l i t bega n t o rela x slightly
, the n asked
, "Yo u thin k they were after me?"
"I' m sorry
, Marianne
. I d o thin k so
. Yes.
"
"Yo u thin k that'
s possible
? T o sti r u p dog s tha t way
? Mak e the m attac k horses?
"
H e mad e a n odd
, aborte d strokin g motio n towar d hi s chin
.
" I coul d d o it . I t wouldn'
t eve n b e difficult
. I kno w tha t sh e can do it, because I can, and whatever I may think
about Tahiti, she'
s strong
. Lord
, she'
s strong
. An d I a m weakene d b y bein g angry at myself. No—don't shush me. I
am angry at myself.
Befor e I invite d yo u here
, I neve r though t t o as k abou t you r tru e relationshi p wit h
you r brother
. I kne w yo u didn'
t lik e him
, I knew things were not good between you, but I never tried to get at the
bottom of it. I should have considered it more fully.
Instead I lulled you. I lulled myself.
"Marianne , he means you ill. Not merely in the slightl y jealous way one
sibling may cordially detest another—which, Lord help me, was what I had
considered. No, he means you rea l destructio n a s surel y a s thi s
roa d lead s t o you r home
. H
e mean s yo u il l an d h e ha s mad e som e kin d o f allianc e
wit h
Madame to that end—if, indeed, she is not a primary mover in this matter. And
I, who foolishl y exposed you to this, must find a way to protec t you."
Mariann e laughe d bitterly
, an d whe n h e turne d a n astonishe d fac e o n her
, sh e laughe d again
. "Mak r Avehl
, yo u don'
t kno w how relieved I was last night to hear you say that. For years, I've
thought that Harvey hated me, or resented me. For years
I've fought against his patronizing me, destroying me. When-
ever I got my head up, he'd do his best to knock it down. The only things I
could be sure of succeeding at were things he didn't find out about. Always

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with that hating face, that superior smile. But nothing I could prove. Nothing
anyone else could see.. So I felt guilty, wicked. I felt I didn't have the
right to hat e him
. Afte r all
, Pap a lef t hi m i n charge
, lef t hi m t o tak e car e o f me
. No w yo u sa y he'
s tryin g t o har m me—really
. Fo r money
. Fo r Pap a Zahmani'
s money
. I suppos e it' s true
. Harve y like s money
. H
e neve r ha s enough
, thoug h wha t h e inherite d should have been enough for anyone. But I
get more, of course, when I'm thirty, because a lot of it was my mother's.
My mother's
, no t Harvey'
s mother's
. Bu t Pap a wa s ol d country
,

through and through. Couldn't see leaving it to me until I was a matron
. Girl s ha d n o rea l statu s wit h Papa
. H
e love d me
, but that was different. "
"Tha t ma y b e true
, bu t I thin k i t mor e likel y h e sa w yo u a s a littl e gir
l an d h e sa w Harve y a s a grow n man
. Perhap s h e onl y wante d t o protec t you
. Ho w ol d wa s Harvey?
"
"Oh
, twenty-fiv e o r -six
. Tha t ma y hav e bee n it . I wa s onl y thirteen
. I wis h I coul d fee l tha t wa s it.
"
"Your papa had no reason to mistrust his son?"
"No. Harvey was never... he was never strange until Mama died
. Whe n I wa s a littl e girl
, I though t h e wa s Princ e Charm
-
ing. Really . He was so handsome , so gallant . He brough t little presents.
He... he courted us, Mama and me. Then, when
Mam a died
, h e changed
, al l a t once
. H
e becam e somethin g
... something horrible."
" I thin k i t possibl e tha t h e di d no t understan d th e realit
y o f the property division between your parents. I don't think he realized
quite what part of the family fortune s were yours, Marianne. Perhaps he began
to be a bit strange when he visited
Lubovosk . I'm sure that he was given weapons there he should not have had,
and now I must defend you against them. You must be very brave, and very
strong. There are certain things blac k shaman s ca n do—an d certai n

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thing s peopl e traine d b y them can do. You've seen a sample already....
"Ther e ar e wors e things
: transpor t int o th e fals e worlds
, int o th e drea m borders
, bindin g foreve r i n place s whic h exis t withi n the mind and have
virtually no exits to the outside world....
"Bu t t o d o an y o f thes e things
, th e shama n believe s tha t hi s ritual demands consent.
Listen to me, Marianne."
"I' m listening
. Yo u sai d th e ritua l demand s consent.
"
"Remembe r it . Th e shaman s believ e th e ritua l i s necessar y to
the effect, and they believe that consent is necessar y to the ritual. The
shaman says to his victim, 'Will you have some tea?
' An d th e victi m says
, 'Yes
, than k you.
'
That i s consent
.
In my own library, your brother said to you, 'Come, let me introduce you
to...' and you nodded yes. That was consent.
So she then struck at you."
"Did the people who went riding consent ? If so, to what?"
"Mor e likely
, Madam e wen t dow n t o th e stable s befor e goin g to bed last
night, taking a few lumps of sugar with her. 'Here,

old boy, have a lump of sugar,' and the horse nods his head, taking the sugar.
He has consente d then, and they can use him.
So also with dogs, with birds, with anything they can get to take food from
their hands. The true victim was to be the horse, whatever horse you might be
riding or anyone else might be riding. They are not over scrupulous. "
"What are you trying to tell me?"
" I a m saying
, fo r a time
, d o no t consen t t o anythin g you r brother proposes. If he says on
the phone 'isn't it a nice day,'
say 'no, it is not.' If he says 'wouldn't you like to go to Mexico fo r you r
vacation, ' sa y 'no
, I' d rathe r g o somewher e else.
' B e disagreeable . Better yet, do not talk to him at all."
"Forever? That may be difficult."
"Only for a few days, until I can get a few of the Kavi together to make a
protectio n for you. Until we can teach you t o protec t yourself
. I don'
t eve n wan t t o tak e yo u home
, t o leave you there alone , excep t that anythin g else woul d make them
more determined, more dangerous. As it is, they may not know we suspect them."
"Th e thin g Ella t taugh t m e won'
t work?
"
"You'r e no t schoole d enoug h i n it s use
. Yo u haven'
t th e discipline . I hate to leave you, even for tonight."
"The y can'
t b e i n tha t muc h o f a hurry, " sh e sai d nervously
, disturbed by his intensity. "I don't inherit for another four years, for

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heaven's sake. Harvey isn't going to do anything precipi-
tous."
" I suppos e you'r e right
. Onc e on e begin s t o fee l thi s menace
, thi s gatherin g force
, i t i s lik e hearin g a thunderstor m i n one'
s head. Space and time are lost in it. One is at the center of fury. " He
reache d to take her han d in his, utterl y unprepare d for the reaction his
words would bring. "Marianne, I could stay with you tonight. "
Her hand whipped away from him, withou t volition . Her mout h ben t int o
a n ova l o f rejection
, horror
. "I'
m no t lik e that, "
sh e said
, th e word s comin g fro m dee p within
, word s sh e di d not usually say aloud but were now aloud, between them,
harsh an d ugly
. "No t lik e that.
" Sh e shuddere d once
, again
, muttere d words under her breath, like a litany, got control of herself,
tried to make light of it, did not succeed. His face was white, blank .

"I'v e offende d you, " h e sai d a t last
. " I mean t nothin g dis
-
honorable . Please . It was only to offer protection . You'r e prob-
ably right. There is not that much hurry. They aren't mind readers, after all.
They cannot know how thoroughly I am alerted to the danger they pose.
We will comfort ourselves wit h that thought. If your brother calls, you will
be light, and cheer-
ful, and contrary. Please remember to be contrary, Marianne."
Sh e agree d t o d o so
, no t hearin g him
, to o caugh t u p i n th e internal maelstrom he had unleashed, wanting
only to be out o f th e ca r an d behin d a door
, he r ow n door
, shu t agains t th e world.
"Not like that,"
the hissing demon voices inside kep t saying
. "Harve y wa s wrong
. I' m no t lik e that.
"
He left her at the door, seeing on her face that he should not offer to come
in. She went in to disconnect phone, to sit for an hour in her window while
the sun went down and the stars began to peek over the roofs and chimneys. The
buds of th e oa k outsid e he r windo w ha d begu n t o unfur l int o
tiny
, curle d hand s o f innocen t pink
, an d he r min d squirme d i n guil t an d confusio n a t th e fac
t tha t now
, eve n now
, sh e luste d afte r him
, wanted him, and all the years of not wanting did not seem to have immunized
her at all.
At last she set to work buildin g menta l tower s of adaman t and wall s of
iron. She put hersel f to sleep with the litan y Ella t had taught her. She
awakened to her clock radio, news of combat and death, so ordinary and distant

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as to be undisturbing.
She was almost ready for class when the doorbell rang, and she saw the
delivery man's hat through the peephole, knew that it must be some little gift
from Makr Avehl, felt again that combined guilt, lust and self-loathing. She
opened the door to receive the package, accept the the proffered pencil.
"Yo u hav e t o sig n fo r it . Wher e th e X
i s o n th e line.
"
"Yes," said Marianne, "I will." Only to see the glitter of eyes as the
uniformed person's head came up, dark, hawk-
faced, mouth curved in a cry of victory. She had only time to think that she
had given consent and to say, "Madame Delu-
bovoska, " befor e al l wen t dar k aroun d her
.

IT WA S DAR K by the time Mak r Aveh l arrive d in Washingto n after mile s of
drivin g throug h countr y he did not see, traffi c h e di d no t consider
, i n a stat e o f min d bes t described
, h e tol d himself, as unnerved and astonished. While his mouth had been
bus y sayin g word s whic h meant
, i n whateve r languag e h e wa s thinking, "Gods in heaven, what ails
the wench!" his center of being was saying in another tone, perhaps another
language entirely
, "Oh
, m y dear
, m y ver y dear.
" Thi s colloqu y wa s ove r in the moment which it occupied, leaving his
political self shaken before the sweet longing of that inner voice: "Oh, my
very dear." And that was when he knew, absolutel y and without any remaining
doubt. Not earlier, when he had seen her at dinner
, a sparklin g bato n o f willo w flesh
, bendin g bu t no t breakin g befor e he r brother'
s assault
; no t o n horseback
, fac e eager as a child's, with tendrils of hair wet on her forehead from
the sun ; not as he had seen her in the car, firs t laughin g then crying to
know that all her world was arrayed against her bu t tha t sh e wa s no t
insane
.
So . S o wha t wa s h e t o d o now
? Sh e ha d rejecte d hi m an d h e ha d lef t her
, lef t he r ther e alone
, an d h e coul d no t g o bac k

to force himself upon her, for in such forcing might end all that he now in
one instant hoped and longed for, withou t warn-
ing or premonition. Well, no matter the reason, if any. If she ha d rejecte d
him
, sh e ha d no t rejecte d Ellat
, an d wha t Ella t could not find out was not wort h the finding . So he
drov e like a maniac to reach his hotel and a phone so that Ellat might be
enlisted in his sudden cause. He was convinced of danger, smelle d it, felt it
breathin g hotl y on his neck , a scen t of bloo d and damnation . She mus t
accep t help from Ellat .
Oncoming headlights speared toward his eyes, and he came to himself as a horn
shrieked beside him, dopplering by and away into darknes s with a howl of
fury. This sobered him. He would call Ellat as soon as he arrived in
Washington . Until then

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, h e woul d tr y t o behav e mor e sensibl y an d thin k o f othe
r things.
I n whic h h e wa s onl y partiall y successful
. Ella t wa s eage r enoug h t o hel p Marianne
. "O
f cours e I'l l sta y wit h her
. W
e got along quite nicely. If you really feel...." But her desire t o hel p
di d no t alla y Mak r Avehl'
s concern
.
" I reall y feel, " h e sai d grimly
, "tha t there'
s somethin g mor e tha n merel y wicke d goin g o n here.
"
" I can'
t figur e wha t they'r e playin g at, " fusse d Ellat
. "Ma
-
dam e usin g he r cocktai l part y magi c trick s here
, i n thi s house
, agains t on e o f you r people.
"
"I think Madame sees Marianne as one of her people, or on e o f Harvey'
s people
, whic h amount s t o th e sam e thing
. Ca n you be here by lunch time tomorrow? "
Lunch time, she said, yes. Yes, the guests had all departed.
Yes
, th e hors e whic h ha d bee n bitte n seeme d t o b e healin g an
d a dog they had captured was being tested for rabies. Yes, he coul d tur n
i n th e littl e ca r t o th e renta l agency
, the y woul d us e the big one. Yes, the servants were packing so that
they might leave. "I'm tired of all this, Makr Avehl. I want to go home."
"Jus t a s soo n a s w e d o somethin g abou t Marianne
, Ellat
. I
promise."
Somethin g i n hi s voic e sai d mor e tha n h e ha d intended
, fo r there was a waiting silence at the other end of the line, a silence
whic h invite d hi m t o sa y mor e tha n h e wa s read y t o say
. Whe n he did not fill it, she said, "Take her with us. That's the sensible
thing to do."

"It'
s calle d kidnaping
, Ellat
. Th e American s don'
t fin d i t socially acceptable. They have laws against it."
Ella t onl y snorted
. "Tomorrow
. A
t lunc h time.
"
On whic h note he foun d himsel f sittin g on the side of his bed
, holdin g th e phon e i n on e han d a s i t buzze d a long
, agitate d complaint
. Shoul d h e cal l Marianne
? Wha t coul d h e say

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? No
.
Better leave it. Drop in with Ellat tomorrow , about five in the afternoon,
when Marianne got home from work. Gritting his teeth, he turned from the phone
to his briefcas e to spend two dul l hour s goin g ove r th e materia l
h e woul d us e i n hi s meetin g the followin g morning .
And when that meetin g was over, he felt it had all been an exercis e i n
futility
, a kin d o f diplomati c dans e macabr e i n whic h he and Madame had
shaken skeletons at one another like chil-
dre n a t a Hallowee n party
. An d ye t th e woma n ha d seeme d strangel y satisfied
, a s thoug h sh e ha d wo n whateve r gam e sh e was playing.
"Th e undersecretar y o f stat e assure s m e tha t w e ma y depen d
upon the status quo," he said to Ellat over the lunch table.
"Which means precisely what?" asked Ellat, not interrupting he r concentratio
n o n a plethor a o f oysters
.
"Whic h mean s exactl y nothing, " h e admitted
. "Th e U.S
.
has spoken for us in the U.N. and that's it. They don't take the matter
seriously, and I'm beginning to think they're right.
This has all been a charade. Madame is up to something else, and this has all
been misdirection , probably for my benefit."
"Mariann e sai d that.
"
"She said what?"
"Mariann e sai d tha t i f th e Lubovoskan s reall y intende d t o tak
e u s over
, they'
d invade.
"
"Well, of course they have tried that," he said.
"Sh e woul d hav e n o wa y o f knowin g that
, Mak r Avehl
. I
repeat what I said earlier. If you want to keep the child safe and away from
that horrible brother of hers, take her with us."
H e di d no t reply
. Th e foo d di d no t temp t him
, an d h e wa s waiting impatientl y for Ellat's affair with the oysters to
run its course
. H
e dare d no t agre e wit h her
, fo r sh e woul d tak e i t a s a promise
, bu t emotionall y h e ha d begu n t o believ e onl y th e cours e
sh e ha d suggeste d woul d satisf y him—t o tak e Mariann e with him
when he left.

"Ea t you r oysters
, Ellat, " h e said
. "I
t ma y b e you r las t opportunit y t o d o so
. Aghrehon d wil l b e her e wit h th e ca r i n twenty minutes."
They approache d Marianne' s tall house just at sunset. The door into the
front hall stood open and on the tiny turfed area between the steps and the
iron fence, Mrs. Winesa p leaned on a lawn edger, intent upon the clean line
separating daffodils fro m grass

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. Sh e looke d u p i n fran k curiosity
, starin g a t Mak r
Avehl and Ellat from her broad, open face, mouth a little open, rathe r
gnomelik e wit h he r cutof f jean s an d bagg y shirt
. " I don'
t think Marianne' s here," she told them. "The door's open, though , so she
must have run out just for a minute."
Makr Avehl acknowledge d this information with a pleasant nod
, stoo d bac k t o le t Ella t preced e hi m int o th e hallwa y an
d halfway up the stairs. Then he saw Marianne's jacket, obviously trodden upon
where it lay half on the upper step, then the clipboard of papers with her
signature scrawled and running of f on e edge
. Th e doo r t o he r apartmen t wa s open
. O
n th e window seat the purple crocuses wilted in the close heat, and a fl y
buzze d i n frustratio n agains t th e close d window
.
He stepped back into the hall to pick up the clipboard , knowin g as he did so
what had happened . It could all be read i n th e signs
; th e trac k o f th e beas t coul d b e seen
. Th e worl d began to turn red inside his eyes, and he realized he was
holding his breath. Released air burst from his lungs, and he sat down
abruptly. "She's gone. Oh, damn me for a fool, Ellat. Damn me for an arrogant,
irresponsible fool. We're too late. She's gone."
Ella t wa s alread y goin g dow n th e stairs
, ou t int o th e tin y fron t yard
. "Yo u mus t b e Mrs
. Winesap
? I though t so
. Mariann e has told me all about you. She's so grateful for your help with
the lawn. I wonder, did you happen to notice anyone coming or going this
morning ? I had sent a package , and I won-
dered ..."
Sympathetic , warm expressio n saying what a nice woma n she was to have sent
a package . "I saw him leaving. Went out o f her e lik e a ca t wit h hi
s tai l o n fire
. Mus t hav e lef t hi s deliver y truck around the comer, because he
went off down the block in the time it took me to say 'Good morning.' I hate
it when people are so bad-tempere d they don't even respond to a simple

time of day. I said, 'Good morning,' loud and cheerful, and I
didn't even get a grunt from him."
"That would have been about what time?"
"Oh, let me see. Wha t did I come outsid e for? I'd had breakfast
, an d Larki n wa s doin g th e dishes
, an d I' d writte n a letter to my sister—tha t was it—and I'd come out
to put it in th e mailbo x fo r th e postman
. S o i t wasn'
t tim e fo r 'Donahue
'
yet, or I'd have been watching him. About 8:30, I'd say, give a little take a
little." She laughed heartily. "I always say don't b e to o sure
, an d nobod y ca n cal l yo u a liar.
"
He was holding onto the banister when Ellat came back up the stairs. "I
heard," he said. "Then Marianne wasn't taken."
He turned back into the room. On the window seat the Delvaux print of the
young women setting lights in the street was broken in two, splintered ends of
frame protrudin g like broken bones.

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He went through to the bedroom. Nothing. Orderly. She had made the bed. The
bathroom was a little messy, towel dropped rather than folded. "She was here
when the doorbell rang," he said to Ellat, turning to make a helpless gesture
to Aghrehon d wh o ha d jus t com e u p th e stairs
. "Doorbel l rang
, sh e wen t t o the door. The person there said something about signing
for a package, and Marianne said 'of course' or 'sure' or something of the
kind—withou t thinking. She didn't even have time to b e afraid.
" Oh
, God
, h e thought
, wh y di d sh e pul l awa y fro m me with that revulsion ? I should
have been here. I should have been the one to answer that door, confront that
monster.
"If it is that Lubovosk woman, she flips her finger at you,"
sai d Aghrehond
. "Sh e sneer s lik e a bo y i n th e street
, nyaa
, nyaa, nyaa. She makes an insult, a provocation . Why?"
"Perhaps," said Ellat, "because she has had the wits to see that Makr Avehl
cares for the girl. Bait. Bait in a trap."
With horror, Makr Avehl thought of the white bird and the black, demon fish;
thought of the naked girl carrying her little light into the darkness while
trying to pretend that she was dreaming. He came to himself staring at his own
face in the mirror, haggard and terrified.
"Wh y i s th e pictur e broken?
"
"I gave it to her," he replied woodenly. 'To replace a very unpleasant one her
brother had given her. If Harvey saw it—
if Madame saw it, they would know in an instant that someone

wa s intervenin g i n Marianne'
s affairs.
"
"Bu t sh e wasn'
t taken, " sai d Ellat
. "Whoeve r i t wa s didn'
t take her. "
"Sent," Makr Avehl growled. "Not taken, sent." So, wher-
ever she was now, among the false worlds, somewhere in the endless borderlands
where no maps existed and the shortest distanc e betwee n an y tw o point
s wa s neve r a straigh t line
, sh e was at least together, body and soul. He had seen bodies sun-
dered from their souls. He had experienced souls sundered in that way, too.
Better not, far better not. If he had had to choose between two horrors, it
would have been this, at least. That she was in one place. One. Somewhere .
" I mus t g o int o Madame'
s limb o afte r her
, int o whateve r borderland place she has been sent."
"Makr Avehl! Think of the danger!" Ellat laid a hand upon his arm. "Think!"
" I a m thinking, " h e muttered
. "You
, too
. Thin k o f her
.
Somewher e alone
. Lost
. Frightened
. Perhap s withou t memory

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.
Certainl y withou t friends
. I n a drea m world
, a los t world
, a world in which dark is light and evil is good, perhaps. You think
, Ellat
. Wha t els e ca n w e do?
"
"Fro m here?
"
"Yes. From here. Water those flowers , will you? She wouldn' t have left them
like that. Open the window. She would have done that." Oh, God Zurvan, he
prayed, let me undo the harm
I have done. I was the one not to tell her what pit of evil I
sense d i n tha t bo x o f hers
. I wa s th e on e wh o begge d he r t o come to Wanderly , not valuin
g her own instinct s which bade he r sta y fa r fro m he r so-calle d
kin
. I wa s th e on e wh o considere d th e threa t no t urgent
, no t imminent
. God
.
Where would one like Madame send one like Marianne?
What kind of world would she construct , of her own soul, of he r ow n being
? Wher e woul d on e lik e Mariann e b e sent
? Int o what place? Into which of the myriad borderlands ? How con-
strained, how held? He lay down upon Marianne's bed, quietly, quietly, letting
what he knew of Tahiti possess him until it became more real than himself.
Where? Where? Where?
Ellat came to the door of the room, apparently unsurprised to see him lying
there. "Can you tell me what you are going to do?"

H e reache d ou t a han d t o her
, claspin g he r own
, beggin g her trust and indulgence. She released him, sighing.
Ho w coul d h e describ e t o he r th e almos t instinctiv e tastin g
of ambience, the intuitive sorting through of words and ideas and pictures?
Marianne had been sent, and that sending had ha d t o be
, b y it s ver y nature
, withi n th e structur e o f Marianne'
s relationshi p to Madame, within the ambience of their milieu.
He had only to feel his way into that vicinage, into what was already there;
he had only to seek that faintly diplomatic tinge, the flavor of embassies and
foreign places, the sourness of artifice
, th e stin k o f deception
, th e thin
, beer y scen t o f solitud e and cold rooms, the presence of children—no!
The presence of the childlike. The shadow of malevolence hovering. Within that
, somethin g bein g built
, constructed
, changed
, fo r Mari
-
anne's own persona would demand that. Courage. There would be courage.
Stubbornness. A kind of relentless perseverance in survival .
Withal
, ther e woul d power
, Madame'
s power

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, Madame'
s control
, hidden
, perhaps
, o r disguised
, bu t ther e nonetheless
.
Madame's colors, ebony and blood. Marianne's colors, mauve an d plu m an d
mist y blu e foun d rarel y i f a t all
. Woul d ther e b e anythin g ther e o f Harvey
? Unlikely
. Thoug h h e migh t thin k o f himsel f a s a n importan t par t o
f thi s challenge
, i n realit y h e wa s no more to Madame than was Marianne herself, a
part of the bait.
He lay there, breathing his way into the precincts of illusion, finding the
border of dream as he would have found the spoor of a deer in the forest of
Alphenlicht , slowly, with infinite caution
, summonin g it , movin g breat h b y breat h s o a s no t t o
shatte r th e silenc e o r betra y hi s presence
, disguisin g hi s ow n form
, changin g t o blen d int o th e plac e h e woul d fin d himself
, tha t otherwhere
, tha t hinterlan d wher e h e woul d fin d her
, fin d her, find her....
Ellat, watching, saw him sink into trance, fade before her eye s int o a n
effigy
, lifeles s a s stone
, betraye d onl y b y th e shallow
, infrequen t breath s whic h miste d th e mirro r sh e hel d befor e
hi s lips
. A
grun t fro m th e doorwa y mad e he r turn
.
Aghrehond stood there, eyes wide, mouth open, panting as thoug h h e ha d
ru n fo r miles
. " I wil l g o wit h him, " h e said
.
"Hondi. He did not ask—"

"Ellat, he does not ask. I will go with him. He may need someone. He may need
someone to stay in there when he comes back, for he cannot stay. That is what
she wants, that Lubo-
voskan
. Sh e want s hi m los t i n th e fals e worlds
, bu t h e i s to o wis e fo r that
. I wil l go
. Shus h now.
" An d h e wen t bac k int o th e livin g roo m t o li e dow n
there
, hand s folde d o n hi s chest
, sinking at once into a sleep both as profoun d and as disturbin g as that
which held Makr Avehl.
Dee p int o th e nigh t th e ligh t glowe d i n th e uppe r windo w
a s Ellat'
s figur e passe d an d passe d agai n an d th e searc h wen t on.

MARIANNE

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, LIK
E TH
E other s i n th e pensione
, mad e dail y visit s to the embassy. It was only a short walk, through
the carnival ground and the phantom zoo, along the city wall to the Gates of
Darius—not cleaned yet, though the scaffolding had been rigged against the
ruddy stones for several seasons, and teams o f dwarve s wer e brough t i
n fro m tim e t o tim e t o swar m u p th e ladders and peck away at
the archway—the n onto the Avenue of Lanterns . She though t that they must
keep changin g the avenue . When she had first visited the embassy , she remem
-
bere d th e avenu e a s quit e broa d an d straight
, th e lantern s hones t constructions of amber glass and bronze. Now the
way curved t o mak e roo m fo r th e ne w tile d poo l the y wer e
building
, an d the lights had been replaced with scattered braziers which left muc h
o f th e roadwa y i n darkness
, th e footin g treacherou s amon g chip s o f marble
, chisels
, mallets
, an d discarde d col a can s th e mason s ha d left
. O
f course
, reachin g th e embass y i n th e mom
-
ing light was only a matter of watching one's step, but the retur n alway s
seeme d t o occu r afte r darknes s ha d fallen
, whic h made the return trip difficul t though not, Mariann e reminde d
hersel f constantly
, impossible
. Mariann e wen t t o th e embass y

a t leas t ever y othe r day
, religiously
, i n th e constan t hop e tha t some message would have arrived
concerning her, or some quota would have been changed to allow her an exit
visa.
Everyon e a t th e pensione
, o f course
, existe d i n th e sam e hope
.
The woma n who could have come from Lubovos k had pointe d out, with laughter,
what a vain hope that was. "Those of us from Lubovos k alread y have our
visas, " she had said, fixin g
Marianne with her cold, imperious eye in which that taint of mad laughter
always hung like a pale moon over a cemetery.
"Those of us who know the rales know the way. Those of us i n favo r wit h
th e ambassador
. You
, o n th e othe r hand
, ar e unlikely to receive permission to leave. You are obviously a native, a
borderlander." The way she said it was a venomous revelation to Marianne, a
metempiric bombshell which seemed t o mak e th e matte r certai n forever
. O
f cours e the y woul d no t help her at the embassy. Of course the quota
would not include her
. O f cours e the y woul d b e move d t o neithe r pit y no r mercy
.
Not for a borderlander, a creature of quiet-gray, still-dun ghost-

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ness.
She had thought to apologiz e to the woman who could have come from Lubovosk,
but the words caught in her throat, so she had put her glass of Madeira on the
harpsichord (worrying later that it might have left a ring) and let herself
out of the crowded apartment. Behind her the surf of conversation ebbed and
flowed, falling into silence as she climbed the echoing stairs to her own
room. It had been a mistake to go to the reception. Probably they had meant to
invite someone else, an d th e invitatio n ha d bee n pu t unde r he r
doo r b y mistake
.
He r roo m wa s cold
, th e dirt y casement s opene d wid e t o a view of the nearer roofs
and the farthe r towers . Sun lay upon the streets, rare as laughter, enough
to start a ridiculous up-
welling of hope, like a seeping spring under ashes. She snatched up her coat
to drag it over her arms as she ran down the clatterin g stair s o f th e
pensione
, pas t th e landin g wher e the y had found the old man dead, his
pockets stuffed with appeals to the ambassador, past the room where the woman
who could hav e com e fro m Lubovos k an d he r guest s stil l talked
, int o th e frigid entrance hall with its lofty ceiling and frosty mirrors,
and out into the bright, dusty streets where the children from everywher e
gathere d t o play
. Sh e wondered
, a s sh e ha d before
,

wh y the y gathere d i n thi s stree t rathe r tha n som e other
. The y brok e befor e he r lik e drop s o f mercury
, onl y t o flo w togethe r behind her and go on with their games, a
fevered intensity of play. She could feel their impatience , their hot ardor,
sizzling in the dust.
She wondered which of them, if any of them, had been born her e i n th e
borderland
? Surel y none
. N
o on e remembere d bein g bor n here
. Ther e wer e n o native s t o thi s place
, despit e wha t th e woma n wh o coul d hav e com e fro m Lubovos k
ha d said
.
The y ha d come
, al l o f them
, a s Mariann e ha d come
, interlopers
, strangers, unacclimatized to this place or this time. Marianne kne w ther e
mus t hav e bee n somewher e else
. "Cibola, " sh e chanted to herself. "Rhees. New York. Camelot.
Broceliande.
Persepolis. Alphenlicht." All of these were places beyond the border
. " I coul d hav e com e fro m there, " sh e whispere d rebel
-
liously. "I could. I know I could."
Hands thrust deep into her pockets , she started down toward the river
wharves, toward a place full of light and the complaint o f gulls
. I f th e su n wer e a n omen
, i f hop e wer e no t dead
, i f there were still reason to go on—well, then Macravail might b e there
. Perhap s the y woul d g o t o th e phanto m zoo

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, fee d drea m shred s t o th e tam e ghosts
. Perhap s h e woul d giv e he r another present from the flea market,
perhaps a book with stories about other places. Perhaps he would not. One
never knew with Macravail .
Sh e foun d hi m sitting
, a s h e ofte n did
, upo n a bollard
, perched like some ungainly bird, thin to the point of ropi-
ness, every corner of him busy with bones. She gentle-voiced him, knowing his
horror of shrillness, and he turned in one flowin g motio n t o star e a t
he r fro m huge
, lightles s eye s whic h seeme d t o se e onl y shadow s wher e sh e
sa w ligh t an d ligh t where she saw shadows. "Marianne," his voice
caressed her.
"Will you share my sun?"
The question she answered was not the one he had just asked
. Squattin g besid e hi m o n th e wharf
, sh e said
, " I don'
t think I'll go to the embassy anymore." He had suggested to he r agai n an
d agai n tha t i t wa s a wast e o f time
, gently
, per
-
sistently
. " I kee p thinkin g o f th e ol d man.
"
"What old man was that?"
"Th e ol d ma n wh o die d i n th e plac e I live
. He'
d bee n goin g

to the embass y forever . He never got out. The woman from
Lubovosk says I'll never get out."
"But she urges you to go to the embassy."
"Yes.
" Mariann e wa s unabl e t o conside r th e fundamenta l dilemm a thi
s implied
. I t wa s true
. Th e woma n wh o coul d hav e com e fro m Lubovos k urge d everyon
e t o g o t o th e embassy
.
Always . The though t led her into a gray, fuzzy area which itche d a t th e
edge s an d hur t i n th e middle
. Sh e coul d no t thin k of it, even though she knew Macravai l would be
disappointed .
She changed the subject. "Did you take your dog to the witch wife?"
"It did no good at all." Macravail' s voice was grave and sorrowful
, th e edge s o f hi s mout h unde r th e whit e moustach e turned
down. "I thought at first it had helped. For a time he seemed better, and we
even walked to Leather Street and bought a new leash, but last night while we
slept all his hair fell out.
H e i s bal d now
, lik e a wineskin.
" H
e pointe d t o th e shadow s where a bloated shape murfled to itself,
shiny and hard as a soccer ball.
Mariann e sighed
. The y ha d spen t hal f thei r substanc e fo r severa l

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seasons—surel y i t ha d bee n severa l seasons—o n Ma
-
cravail'
s dog
, ye t th e poo r beas t seeme d n o better
. Sh e coul d no t bea r t o se e Macravai l griev e ove r him
. "Wh y don'
t w e plant on him?" she suggested desperately. "Mixed grasses. We'll tie the
seeds on with gauze and water him night and morning."
S o tha t i s wha t the y di d tha t da y whil e th e su n dribble
d int o the streets in shiny puddles and procession s wound about on th e
cit y wall s an d herald s rod e towar d th e gate s makin g brass y
sound s o f challenge
. Whe n the y ha d plante d Macravail'
s dog
—
mor e complicate d tha n sh e ha d though t i t woul d be
, fo r th e gauz e tende d t o slip—the y wen t t o th e phanto m
zoo
, bu t i t was too late to feed the ghosts and they ended up eating the
dream shreds themselves .
When he left her at the door, he reminde d her of the morn-
ing'
s resolution.
"Yo u promise d no t t o consen t t o g o t o th e embass y anymore.
" Sh e aske d hi m wh y h e cared
, knowin g h e could not, or would not, tell her. He did not, merely sniffed
remotely and chewed on the corners of his moustache while th e do g snuffle
d wearil y a t th e en d o f th e gilde d leash
. " I hop e your dog will grow grass, Macravail, " she wished him at last.

H e ha d forbidde n he r t o sa y goodby e t o him
, whic h mad e leavetakin g somewha t tenuous
. Sh e wa s neve r quit e sur e whe n he would go or if he would go at
all. When she laid her hand upo n th e doorlatch
, however
, h e wen t away
, leavin g he r t o clim b th e fou r lon g flight s t o th e col d
roo m an d th e saggin g bed
. Evidentl y th e receptio n wa s lon g over
, fo r n o sound s cam e fro m th e woman'
s apartment
. Sometime s Mariann e di d no t se e her for days, many long days, and
she felt somehow that the woma n ha d somewher e els e t o g o fro m
tim e t o time
, unlik e the rest of them.
The next morning, however, it was the woman from Lu-
bovosk who woke her, tapping on the door, calling, "Marianne, get up, get
dressed. They're doing something new at the em-
bass y today.
" Mariann e almos t refuse d t o answer
, almos t kep t her word to Macravail, but then decided that any hope was
bette r tha n none
. Sh e agree d t o g o wit h the m afte r breakfast
, rememberin g fro m som e mist y pas t a voic e tellin g he r sh e
wa s contrary—or was it to be contrary?—assertin g her indepen-
dence by refusing to hurry from the dining room even though the others were
shifting impatientl y in the hall. The red-faced woma n wa s there
, an d th e tw o son s o f th e duchess

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. Th e littl e old woman who swept the hallways was with them as well, he r
eye s frightene d an d sof t beneat h th e swat h o f veilin g o n he
r hat
. Mariann e ha d neve r see n he r i n anythin g bu t apro n and
dusty skirt, a tattered shawl around her shoulders, but today she wore mittens
and carried a parasol above the silly hat.
"It's a pretty parasol," offered Marianne, sorry now to have kept the old
thing waiting , "Everyone ought to have something," the old woman said.
"Don' t you thin k so?"
Th e fiv e o f the m move d of f unde r th e sardoni c gaz e o f th
e woma n wh o coul d hav e com e fro m Lubovosk
. Mariann e ex
-
pecte d t o hea r he r laug h behin d the m a t an y moment
, almos t as though she remembered the laughter. When she looked back from
the edge of the carnival ground, however, the woman was gone. In the zoo the
phantoms moved restlessly in their cages, but only Marianne glanced at the
spectral arms thrust through the bars, begging for food. The twin sons of the
duchess strode along side by side, their arms around one another's waists to
hide the fact they were joined at the lower body. When they

arrive d a t th e embassy
, a fuss y cler k sen t the m al l t o variou s rooms and told them to
wait. Mariann e sat in the empty office , listenin g to the hopelessl y
frustrate d buzzin g of a fly agains t the gray glass , dirty from a hundre d
rains and a hundre d dust storms , admittin g light only throug h the
accidenta l fact that the filt h wa s no t perfectl y evenl y distributed
. Outsid e la y th e fame d gardens of the ambassador , but Mariann e
could not see them.
A ver y lon g tim e wen t b y befor e on e o f th e consula r staf
f entere d th e room
, a bundl e o f form s unde r on e arm
, t o si t a t the desk and begin the questions . The woma n from Lubovos k
ha d bee n right
. Th e procedur e wa s different
, an d ye t Mariann e had a feelin g of horrid familiarity , as thoug h in
some other plac e o r tim e sh e ha d experience d i t al l before
.
"Hav e yo u eve r heale d warts?
"
Marianne could not remembe r having done so. "I don't think so," she replied,
trying to keep her voice interested but une-
motional . One never knew. Perhaps the tone of voice one used would make a
difference .
"Have you ever visited the Cave of Light or any similar tourist attraction? "
"No. I'm sure I haven't. Should I have?"
The person stared at her coldly. "It isn't a question of should.
It' s a questio n o f th e quot a bein g changed—definitions
. Reg
-
ulations
. Yo u know
. Th e ne w syste m wil l mak e al l tha t possible
.
Now. Do the following mean anything to you at all? Stop me if they do.
Shamans? The onocratic dyad? The Cave of Light?"
Ther e wa s a n invitationa l pause
, bu t i t mean t nothin g t o Mari
-

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anne
. "Banshees
? Sybils
? Crabbigreen
? Ah
, tha t strike s a chord
, does it?"
Mariann e though t i t ha d somethin g t o J o wit h lawns
, bu t she wasn't sure. Still, the person nodded encouragingly and continued
with the list. "Ethnography ? Harvey? Lubovosk? "
"Yes," Marianne said into the silence. "There's a woman in my pensione from
there."
"Tell me what you know about it," he said, silky-voiced, all at once very
interested.
"She'
s fro m there
. You'
d hav e t o as k her
. I don'
t kno w anythin g abou t i t a t all.
"
"Umm. Let's see. That's schedule 42-A. Ah, here it is.
Now
, thi s wil l b e a littl e different
. Yo u jus t tel l m e wha t come s

to mind when I say each word. Drat. This pen is out of ink.
Wait a bit. I'll be right back.... " The person left the room, th e doo r
shuttin g behin d wit h a swis h ful l o f finalit y an d fin
-
ish, the sound a branch makes falling from the top of a tree, falling, falling
, then done, not to fall anymor e becaus e it has reached the place beneath
which there is no more down at all.
"Swish," said Marianne to herself sadly. She did not expect the person to
return. The little light which had come through the dirty glass was already
fading. Time in the embassy was different from time on the outside. It was
almost night, and outside in the hall the little old woman had set her parasol
against the wall and was busy sweepin g the floors.
" I thought
, sinc e I wa s her e already...
" th e woma n began
.
"We might as well go on back," said Marianne. "Perhaps we'l l com e agai n
tomorrow.
"
Macravai l wa s waitin g fo r he r i n th e street
, rop y arm s folde d acros s hi s narro w chest
, mout h puckere d i n reproach
. " I though t you weren't coming here anymore." She stared at her feet,
unabl e t o answe r him
. "Th e seed s sprouted, " h e said
, pointin g at the end of the leash where a fuzzy, green ball clicked along
on short legs, beady eyes peering at her from beneath grassy ears. The dog
barked, a husky, friendly , convalescen t sound.
"I' m glad
, Macravail
. I t make s hi m loo k s o muc h mor e comfortable
. I' m sur e h e feel s better.
"

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"I thought we'd take him to the fountain," said Macravail.
"He needs watering. Then we could buy some fruit jellies and watch the
fireworks, "
Marianne could not help the slow tears which began to well from her eyes, the
harsh lump which choked her. Under the curious eyes of the little old woman,
she wept noisily. Macra-
vail made no effort to comfort her, merely chewed the ends of his moustache
and spoke soothing words to the dog.
"What's it all for?" she cried. "What good is it all? We'll eat fruit jellies
and watch firework s and tomorro w it will all be the same. The embassy will
change procedures again, but they still won't give me a visa. I'll grow old
here, and die, and then they'll put me in the phantom zoo with the other
ghosts, and I'll be hungry all the time. Oh, Macravail, I just wan t out...
" ol
Th e littl e d woma n turne d pal e a t thi s an d tottere d away
,

tap-tappin g wit h he r parasol
. Mariann e fumble d throug h he r coat pocket to find some tissues, a
little sticky and shredded, but whole enough to dry her eyes and stop her
dripping nose.
When she came to hersel f again , the old woma n was gone, and Macravail was
crouched against the curbing as the grassy dog peed against the lamppost.
"If you'll stop going to the embassy," he whispered , "I can get you out.
Withou t a visa. If you really want to get out."
"Yo u can
? Wh y haven'
t yo u sai d anythin g before
? Yo u kno w
I want out. More than anything."
"People say that," he went on whispering, "when they don't reall y mea n it
. Th e littl e ol d woma n wh o wa s jus t here
, she'
d sa y it , bu t she'
d b e terrifie d o f it . Her e i s familiar
, alway s changing, but familiar. Here is almost forever. Here is custom and
endless circles turning. Here is nothing truly strange. There is nothing here
but what is here, Marianne , and the only way ou t i s out, n o guarantees
, n o safety
. Som e ar e bette r of f here
, Marianne."
"How can you say that? Nothing ever happens here! Nothing ever changes!"
"Ne w fountain s alon g th e avenue
. Ne w carving s o n th e gate."
"But as soon as they're finished, they'll change it again.
They do that. Everythin g is always changed , but nothing is eve r different
. I wan t i t t o b e different.
I wan t yo u t o ge t m e out. "
"If you really want to," he said with an intensity she had no t hear d fro m
hi m before
, " I can'
t advis e it , o r urg e it . I t ha s t o b e you r decision.
"
"I want to," she said firmly , thrustin g the soggy tissue s back into her
pocket. "I want to. What do I have to do?"
"Jus t tel l m e where yo u wan t t o go
. That'
s all
. Yo u tel l me

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, and I'll take you there."
"I want to cross the border."
"Where do you want to cross? Into where? There's a crossing i n a pastur e
jus t outsid e th e walls
. There'
s a crossin g unde r th e wharf we sat on yesterday. There's a crossing
where the dwarves com e in
, an d on e wher e th e herald s g o out
. Wher e d o yo u wan t to cross?"
"Does it matter?"

"Yo u hav e t o choos e an d consent
, Marianne
. Yo u ca n move
, change
, ge t fro m thi s plac e t o anothe r place
, s o lon g a s yo u choos e an d consent
. Eac h plac e ha s rule s o f it s own
. That'
s th e rul e here
. I ca n onl y hel p yo u i f yo u choos e an d consent.
"
Sh e chewe d he r lip
, fel t th e har d lum p risin g i n he r throa t once more. "Won't
you decide for me, Macravail?"
He shook his head slowly, a pendulum slowly ticking, a mechanica l motion as
though he had been wound up. She could almost hear the slow toc-toc-toc as his
head went from side to side
. "No
. I can'
t d o that
. An d i f yo u tal k t o anyon e abou t it , I can't help you at all.
You tell me where you want to cross, an d I'l l tak e yo u there
, bu t yo u mus t tel l me.
"
She fumble d with the soggy tissue again, and when she looked up it was to see
Macravai l and the dog disappearin g around the corner far down the avenue,
near the new pool.
Loud into the dusk came the sound of hammers , dhang, dhang, dhang, echoing
from the high walls along the street. The sound gre w loude r a s sh e
move d towar d home
, an d whe n sh e wen t beneath the arch of the gate a chip of stone fell
into her collar, scratchin g he r neck
. Th e dwarve s wer e a t wor k i n th e flarin g ligh t o f a
hundre d torche s a s th e firework s burs t abov e the m in showers of
multicolore d sparks. She could still hear the sounds of the hammer s when she
lay in her bed, trying to breathe quietly , trying not to think, trying to
sleep.
Then, in the morning, she tried not to sleep, tried to cast off an
overwhelming lassitude which paralyzed her will. Below her window the childre
n played in the dusty street in a fever o f intensity
. Thei r gam e seeme d t o revolv e aroun d a smal l grou p of
slightly older children, children perhaps eleven or twelve—
perhap s eve n a littl e olde r tha n that
, fo r th e loos e shir t whic h one of them wore clung occasionall y to
the swell of budding breasts. That one, a cloud of dark hair and wild, black
eyes, wa s a t th e cente r o f ever y evolutio n o f th e game
, a desperat e concentratio n upon her face. After a time of watchin g them
, Mariann e pu t o n he r ol d coa t an d wen t dow n th e stairs

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, throug h th e col d hal l an d ont o th e shallo w step s whic h
fronte d th e pensione
. Ther e sh e sat
, nibblin g a cuticle
, watching
. Eac h turn in the game brought the central group somewha t nearer.
Finally
, whe n th e su n wa s almos t overhead
, th e cloud-haire d girl was so close that Marianne could have touched her.
Instead,

moved by some urge she could not have identified , she said, "I f someon e
tol d yo u the y coul d ge t yo u ou t withou t a visa
, what would you think of that?"
Th e gir l turne d o n he r wit h a fier y look
. "S
o what
? An y o f us can do that."
"Yo u kno w wher e th e crossin g place s are?
"
"Hah." It was a whispered sneer. "Since I was^here. Since
I coul d walk
. I kno w the m all
, even th e one s tha t haven'
t bee n used in a hundred years. All the kids do."
"The n wh y don'
t you—emigrate?
"
The girl stared at her insolently . For a time Mariann e though t she would
not answer, but at last her expression softened and sh e pu t ou t a han d
t o touc h Marianne'
s face
. "You'r e al l mist y in the head, aren't you? Younger than I am, for all
you seem older. They change, you know. A place might be a good gate for a
while, then it would become a bad gate. You get through a bad gate, you might
not be able to play your way out, you know? You have to work it out, play it
out. That's what we're doing. Playing the gates. Patterning them. When the
right pat-
tern comes, then I'm next. I can tell you because I'm next, and I won't be
here much longer." Seeing the incomprehensio n i n Marianne'
s face
, sh e continued
. "Ther e aren'
t an y goo d gate s for grown-ups. Only for kids. That's why I have to get
out right away, before... you know. Don't tell!" For a moment the voice was
that of someone Marianne knew, then the voice of an anguished child, then the
dark-haired girl was swung back into the frenzy of the game. Mariann e
returned to her room, thinking she should wash her face before lunch. Bent ove
r th e basi n sh e hear d a shou t g o u p fro m th e children
, bu t whe n sh e hastene d t o th e window ther e wa s nothin g t o
see
.
The cloud-haired girl was gone, but she could have gone home for lunch.
Marianne held that thought resolutely through the noon meal, through her
afternoon nap, through the pre-
dinner cocktail hour which the woman from Lubovosk insisted all the residents
attend, and which she herself attended, today ful l o f som e obscur e fur
y whic h Mariann e mad e n o effor t t o identify
. Afte r dinne r th e childre n wer e stil l har d a t play

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, bu t the cloud-haired girl was not among them. Marianne went to her room to
put a pack of tissues in her pocket with her comb and, after some thought, the
little book of stories Macravail

had given her. She had not read many of the stories nor under-
stoo d thos e sh e ha d read
. "Something, " sh e whispere d t o her
-
self
. "Everyon e shoul d hav e something.
"
She went into the evening and to the river. Macravail was there. Beside him
the grassy dog was digging wildly into a crevass e betwee n tw o stones
, whurfflin g a s h e di d so
. Mariann e sat down beside Macravail and watched the dog until it gave up
the search and lay down with a bursting sigh beside them.
"Tel l m e wher e al l th e crossing s are, " sh e said
. "Tel l m e wher e they all are, Macravail. " Then, as he did so, she
wrote each one down on a page of the book, each on a different page.
Whe n sh e ha d finished
, th e star s ha d com e out
. Takin g a dee p breath, she opened the book at random. The nearest lights
were i n th e carniva l ground
, di m an d distant
. Sh e mad e i t ou t wit h difficulty. "The alley behind the bird
market. Let's go there now , Macravail."
The y wen t th e lon g wa y 'round
, skirtin g th e frui t marke t an d th e stree t o f th e meta l
workers
. The y passe d th e bac k wal l o f th e embassy
, hearin g ove r th e wal l th e clatte r o f dishe s an d th e
unmistakabl e sound of laughter—th e woman from Lubovosk' s laughter
. Th e alle y behin d th e bir d marke t wa s a narro w one
, lit by a single gaslight. When they stood at the end of it, Marianne could
see the door clearly, though she thought it had not been there when they
entered the alley.
"Throug h there, " sai d Macravail
. Sh e turne d t o se e hi s fac e drawn up in an expression part pain,
part hope, part despair.
"Throug h there.
"
" I hav e t o go, " sh e pleaded
. "Yo u d o understand
, Macra
-
vail? I can't stay. I can't go on forever like the little old woman, lik e th
e son s o f th e duchess
. I hav e t o hav e a difference
, Ma
-
cravail
. Com e wit h me.
"
"No," he said unaccountably . "You're safer alone. They may not even know
you're gone for a while. But give me some-
thing—somethin g t o remembe r by....
"
The only thing she had was the book. The words came out piteously
, unforgiveably

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, befor e sh e thought
. "Everyon e ough t t o hav e something....
"
"Ahhh... . She had not heard Macravai l wail in that way before
, s o lost
, s o lonely
. "Giv e me
, an d I'l l giv e you.
" Sh e fel t th e dog's leash thrust into he r hands, felt th e grassy beast

pressing tight against her legs as the book was withdrawn from he r hand
. The n ther e wa s onl y th e crossin g t o elsewhere
, an d th e differenc e cam e withou t warning
.
Makr Avehl lay on Marianne' s bed, unmoving , eyes closed .
O n th e tabl e besid e hi m a brazie r burned
. Fro m tim e t o time
, Ellat droppe d a pinch of fragran t resin into it to make a pungen t smoke.
Between such times she moved about, making no un-
necessar y nois e bu t no t tryin g t o b e silent
. Aghrehon d ha d bee n stretche d out on the living room floor until a few
moment s before. One momen t he had been there, as quiet as Makr Avehl, the
next momen t he was gone. Ellat had found her eyes brim-
ming with tears. Aghrehon d was like a brother, like a bumptious , lovin g
son
. A
s Mariann e ha d bee n sent, s o ha d Aghrehon d been sent.
Except, of course, that he had volunteered to go.
Sh e move d bac k an d fort h betwee n th e tw o rooms
, bein g sure, tidying up. Makr Avehl would not be disturbed by her
activities ; she had begun to wonder if he could be aroused by anythin g a t
all
. Outsid e th e draw n curtain s th e evenin g bloome d violet with
dusk, mild and springlike .
"Ellat?
" Sh e hear d th e indraw n breath
.
"Here, Makr Avehl. Hold still. I've kept tea hot for you."
She slipped her arm beneath his head and brought the steaming cu p t o hi s
lip s a s h e sippe d an d sippe d again
, breathin g deepl y a s fro m som e grea t exertion
.
"I foun d her."
"I knew you would, if anyone could. Was it as you thought , in some borderland
world of Madame's?"
"Yes. A black world, of Black Madame. Oh, Ellat, but I
will have vengeanc e on that one. Mariann e is nothin g to her, nothin g a t
all
, bu t sh e too k he r u p lik e a bo y pickin g a n apple
, only to throw it away after one bite. Bait. Using her to bait me. She hopes
to throw me off balance. To make me commit foolishness , risk my people, risk
the Cave. She plays a deep an d dangerou s game
, tha t one.
"
"Sh e trie d ou r defense s onc e before
. I d o no t thin k sh e i s eager to try them soon again. She mocks at
the Cave, but she could not break its protection."
"No
. Sh e prefer s t o bai t m e wit h m y innocen t kinswoman

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.
Well
, sh e wa s ignoran t o f much
, wa s Madame
. Certainl y sh e

di d no t thin k I kne w Mariann e wel l enoug h t o follo w wher e
she had sent Marianne, to follow and let her out of Madame's place into one of
her own. Madame may learn soon that Mari-
ann e i s gon e fro m he r limbo
, bu t sh e wil l no t kno w where
.
W e star t even
, then
, neithe r o f u s knowin g wher e sh e is.
" H
e laughe d harshl y befor e sippin g agai n a t th e tea
, swun g hi s fee t over the side of the bed and rose. "I must try to make
a call to Alphenlicht."
"Everythin g wil l b e packe d b y now
. W
e ca n g o tonight.
"
"I wish we could go. I need the Cave of Light, Ellat. I need th e Cav e an d
ou r people
. Bu t i f I a m eve r t o fin d Marianne
, i t ha s t o b e fro m here.
"
"Aghrehond?"
" I sen t hi m afte r her
. Poo r thing
. Everythin g i s twiste d wher e she is, names and people and places and
times. All moves as i n disguise
, strangel y warped
. I n thi s worl d o f Madame'
s th e pitiable emigre's have no memory of what they were, or only fragments
. Al l ha s bee n wipe d away
. Nothin g coul d wip e he r character
, o f course
, an d th e courag e shine s throug h lik e a littl e star
. Still
, sh e suffer s unde r it.
"
"You say Aghrehon d is with her. Where?"
He laughed, a short bark of vicious laughter, at her, at himself
, a t th e world
. "Lor d o f Light
, Ellat
, that'
s wh y I nee d the Cave. I don't know where she has gone. The only way out
fro m th e border worlds i s into one's ow n world.
Sh e went into her own place, one of her own places—I don't know how man y
ther e ma y be
. I f sh e wa s a woma n o f som e imagination
, there might be thousands . Or perhaps only one. Whicheve r it ma y be
, I mus t fin d her
. /
must find her."
"Wha t wil l yo u do?

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" Sh e wa s hushe d befor e hi s vehemence
, a little awed by it, thinking she had not seen him like this before
, no t ove r a woman
.
H e sighed
. " I wil l ea t something
, i f yo u ca n fin d somethin g her e o r brin g somethin g fro m
tha t plac e o n th e boulevard
. I'l l tak e a shower
. Tha t plac e mad e m e fee l slimy
. I'l l call—who
?
Who would be best? Nalavi? Cyram? Since I can't go to the
Cave
, the y mus t d o i t fo r me
. I'l l cal l som e o f ou r peopl e a t th e embass y an d se t
the m o n Harvey'
s trail
, an d o n Tahiti's
. I
want to know where they are in this world, if they are here at all. And then
I'll try to think what to do next."

Outside Marianne' s window the pink leaves of the oak un-
curled like tiny baby hands, gesturin g helplessl y at the world beyond. The
curtains remained closed. Downstairs , Mrs. Wine-
sap turned in her half sleep, sat up suddenly to say to Mr.
Larkin, "Did you hear that? What was that?" To be answered onl y b y a
snore
, a riffl e o f wind
. Unsatisfied
, sh e la y bac k down to sleep. There was the sound of a car driving away,
then returning . Feet moved restlessly over their heads. Then silence
, onl y silence
. Th e hous e wa s still
, still
, a s thoug h wait
-
ing.

MARIANNE' S DES K WA S on an uppe r leve l of the librar y as wer e those of
the assistant librarians, but not, as theirs were, upon th e balcon y itself
. Ther e a contentiou s writhin g o f bras s mad e a lacoonish barrier
between the desks and the gloomy gulf of air extending more than four stories
from the intricate mosaics of the lobby floor to the green skylight far above.
Marianne' s space was sequestere d in a troug h of subaqueou s shado w at the
deep end of an aisle of shelves , the only natural light leaking grudgingl y
upon her from between splintere d louvers of the curve d windo w se t som e
distanc e abov e he r head
. Thi s eye
-
shape d orific e looke d neithe r i n no r out
, bu t Mariann e ofte n glanced up at it in the fancy it had just blinked
to let in some tantalizin g glimme r fro m outside
. T
o thi s wholl y inadequat e illuminatio n sh e ha d adde d a lam p
discovere d i n on e o f th e vacan t basemen t rooms
, a compositio n o f leade n lavende r an d grayed green in the form of

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Page 102

an imaginativ e flower. Such light a s i t allowe d t o escap e outwar d
wa s livi d an d inauspicious
, bu t that which fell on the desk top puddled a welcomin g amber reminiscen
t of hearth fires or brick kilns, comfortin g and in-
dustrious . By this liquid glow she found her way to and from

he r des k a t nigh t whe n al l th e balcon y wa s dark
, th e aisle s o f book s blacke r tunnel s yet
, an d th e onl y movemen t excep t fo r he r ow n th e evanescen t
ghost s reflecte d throug h th e wid e glas s doors from the windshields
of passing cars.
Afte r makin g a n effor t t o leav e th e librar y ever y nigh t fo
r some little time, she had resolved not to try to leave for a while.
The attempt s had becom e increasingl y frustrating , and she felt i t migh t
b e easie r t o giv e u p th e effort
, a t leas t temporarily
.
She resolved to accept the necessity of washing out her un-
derwear and collar in the staff washroom. She made a brief praye r o f thank
s tha t he r appetit e ha d neve r bee n larg e an d wa s now easily
placated by a few of the stale biscuits kept in the staff tea room. These
biscuits never seemed to grow more or less stale, and their quantity remained
constant in the slant-
toppe d jar
. Whe n th e ja r wa s turne d i n a certai n fashion
, th e ti n li d caugh t ligh t fallin g fro m stree t lamp s throug
h th e hig h window to reflect it upon the dusty couch where she slept.
Durin g th e firs t severa l evenings
, Mariann e ha d turne d o n the lights in the basement room, flooding it
with a harsh, uncompromisin g emptines s mor e threatenin g tha n th e
dark
. Th e light brought persons to gather mothlike at the window where they
crouched on the ground to peer down at her and whisper of books; the stealing
of books, the destruction of books. When she turned off the lights, they went
away, or so she thought , for the whispers ended and no shadows moved at the
barred window
. Thereafter
, sh e use d th e light s onl y i n th e washroom
, which had no windows , or upon her desk, so deeply hidden among the
corridors of volumes that no ray could have betrayed her to watchers.
On each of the first severa l afternoons , rather late, Mariann e had been
sent on an errand of one kind or another: to take books to a room in the
sub-basement ; to find books in the fourth floo r annex
; t o tak e paper s t o th e specia l collectio n roo m o n the
mezzanine—al l of them places difficul t to find or return from. She had been
at first surprise d and later angere d to find al l th e staf f gon e whe
n sh e returned
, th e door s locke d tight
, th e outsid e visibl e onl y throug h th e vast
, chil l slab s o f glas s in the main entry. Each evening at this time it
rained, glossing the pavements and translating the sounds of cars into
sinister hisses which combined with the tangle of brass railings to make

her think of feculent pits aswarm with serpents. It was better t o g o bac k
t o he r desk
, t o tha t singl e war m light
, t o wor k ther e unti l wearines s mad e i t impossibl e t o wor k
an y longer

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, tha n t o sta y i n th e chill y chas m o f th e lobb y besid e
thos e transparen t bu t impassabl e doors
.
Whe n bot h darknes s an d wearines s overcam e her
, sh e fel t he r wa y dow n th e wid e marbl e flight
, carefull y centere d i n orde r no t t o touc h th e railings
, aroun d th e come r t o th e smal l door—discouragingl y labele d
"Authorize d Personne l Only"
—
then dow n the pit-blac k funne l of the basemen t stair s to the washroo m
an d light
. Fro m ther e i t wa s onl y a ste p o r tw o t o the tea room
where panties and collar could be laid wet upon th e table
, wrinkle s smoothed
; wher n b y a mouthfu e a handfu l o f biscuit s coul wher d serv e
fo r supper
, washe d dow l o f col d tea
;
e th e tin-toppe d ja r coul d b e turne d t o bea m it s pal e blo
t ont o the place she would sleep; and to dream of dusty wings beating agains
t glass
. Sh e alway s folde d he r trouser s ove r th e bac k o f a chair,
thankfu l for the plain, dark uniform which did not show dirt or wrinkles .
At first light she wakened, terrified that she might have overslep t an d b
e abou t t o b e caugh t i n semi-nakedness
, rem
-
nants of dream catching at her to drag her back into sleep.
After washing and dressing herself she became calmer, able to hid e i n th e
washroo m an d emerg e whe n other s arrived
, a s thoug h sh e hersel f ha d jus t com e t o work
. Som e membe r o f th e staf f alway s brough t rolls
, sometime s fruit
, thoug h whethe r thi s wa s don e spontaneousl y o r b y arrangemen
t Mariann e neve r knew
. Th e provende r mad e u p th e large r par t o f he r day'
s food
, and she had learned to sneak an extra roll or second orange to hide in her
desk. At 8:50 the assistant librarians reported to the head librarian, a
single line of them neatly clad in the same white-collare d uniform which cost
Mariann e so much anxiety.
Man y shadow y figures
, Mariann e amon g them
, watche d thi s assembl y fro m abov e whil e th e rol l wa s calle
d t o th e accom
-
panimen t o f dignifie d bante r suitabl e t o th e profession
, an d finally to the clang and thwoc k of bolts withdraw n from the top and
bottom of the main doors.
Usually one or more patrons waited outside, strolling about on the brick paved
portico or leaning against the glass to peer within through cupped hands at
the lobby clock. Then the staff

member s troope d upstair s t o thei r desks
, th e door s bega n swing
-
ing as patrons entered, and the day began.
Thoug h non e o f th e staf f eve r spok e t o he r directly
, Mariann e was not conscious of any ostracism. There was such indirection in

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the affairs of the library that she believed no one really spoke t o anyon e
else
, ever
. Informatio n seeme d alway s t o b e con
-
veyed in passive statements . "The door to the muniment s room need s t o
hav e a hing e repaired
" rathe r tha n "Mr
. Gerald
, pleas e repai r th e hinge.
" Thi s inheren t passivit y ha d muc h t o d o wit h th e fact
, though t Marianne
, tha t th e doo r t o th e muniment s room was not repaired for days
although its need for repair had bee n plaintivel y state d hal f a doze
n times
. Thus
, Mariann e might be given some task by a half-aborte d gestur e from an
assistan t libraria n directin g he r attentio n t o a smal l pil e o
f book s while a statement was directed somewher e over her left shoul-
der
, "Thos e shoul d b e i n th e sub-basemen t storag e area, " o r
"There'
s spac e i n th e shelve s o f th e Alchem y stack s fo r those.
"
Mr. Gerald, an insouciant figure who arrived occasionally to hav e long
, confidentia l talk s wit h th e hea d libraria n o r th e doorman
, seeme d obliviou s t o thes e gentl e requests
. Mariann e wondere d why she, almost alone among the staff, alway s acted
upon these indirect requirements when virtually all the others seemed able to
ignore them completely.
She also asked herself what the staff did all day. Though there was a constant
movement to and fro, a flutter of paper and a wheeling of carts about, no one
ever seemed to bring book s i n o r tak e the m out
. Sh e though t a t firs t i t migh t b e th e kin d o f librar y
whic h wa s devote d t o researc h o n th e premises
, ful l o f importan t work s an d rar e volumes
. Thi s though t woul d have been comforting , but she could not reconcile
the idea with the actual subject matter of many of the books on the shelves.
Som e wer e o f a n obscenit y sh e foun d shocking
; other s lacke d sense; some had pictures so vile that she had to cover the
pages while workin g away with her mendin g tape and glue. There were always
loose backs to be fastened on securely, notes to b e erase d fro m margins
, page s t o b e mended
, label s t o b e lettere d an d affixed
. Eac h mornin g a car t o f suc h wor k awaite d he r arriva l a t
he r desk
, an d eac h afternoo n th e car t disappeared
, taken away by one of the porters , she supposed , though she had never
actually seen it happen. Upon this constant main-

tenance work were imposed the errands, obliquely stated. "Some periodicals in
the Sorcery section need to go to storage." "They need a binder clamp up in
Thaumaturgy. " The same diffidence whic h undoubtedl y prevente d th e
assistan t libraria n fro m di
-
rectly ordering Marianne to do these things also prevented
Mariann e fro m questionin g them
. Onc e sh e wok e lat e a t nigh t wit h th e words
, "Wher e i n hel l a m I t o fin d a binde r clamp!

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"
upon her tongue, only to flush and curl more tightly into herself upo n th e
couch
. T o hav e spoke n thos e word s alou d woul d hav e been to break
some fragile pretense upon which the library and
Marianne'
s whol e existenc e depended
.
She spent much time carrying books away to the sub-base-
ments, adding them to the endless , tottery stacks which filled corrido r
afte r corrido r o f rooms
. Whe n book s wer e sen t t o storage, they had faded almost to
monochrome, page and print alike in yellowed tan, the print a mere shadow of
fading lines.
She never found the bottommos t of the sub-basements . Her imaginatio n tol d
he r tha t th e room s o f fade d book s ranke d downwar d forever,
into infinity. Some of the rooms nearer ground level held a clutter of
miscellan y which might have bee n lef t ove r fro m a tim e whe n som
e othe r occupan t ha d use d the building.
I n on e roo m a lin e o f dres s form s stoo d alon g a wall
, vo
-
luptuous bosoms thrust in various directions like the snouts of questin g
animals
, turtle s perhaps
, huntin g foo d i n th e di m un
-
derwater light. Another room held cases of stuffed birds, parrots and lyre
birds and toucans, and still another was almost filled wit h broke n
furniture
. I n thi s roo m sh e foun d a dust y blu e blanke t whic h looke d
almos t unused
. Sh e bea t i t fre e o f dus t befor e carryin g i t t o he r
couch
, sighin g wit h contentment
. Whil e the room was warm enough, there had been something indecent an d
dangerou s abou t sleepin g hal f nake d wit h n o cover
. Th e blanket became her walls and doors at once. She ate her biscuits while
stroking it and curled up beneath it early in the evening to savor the
scratchy security of it next to her face. That night she slept without waking,
and when she did waken, much later than usual, it was with the dream clear in
her memory. She ha d bee n collectin g butterflies
, huge
, brillian t insect s whic h fluttere d away befor e her net only to be
capture d and thrus t int o he r collectio n ja r wher e the y bea t
thei r wing s agains t th e

confinin g glass
, sheddin g th e delicat e powde r fro m thei r wings
, breaking the membranes, becoming motionless. Then she had been in the jar
with them, feeling the feathery blows of those wings as they beat and beat
agains t the glass, seeing the rainbo w dust which fell from them onto her own
bare arms and shoulders an d breast s s o tha t sh e becam e a s
brilliantl y colore d a s they
.
Sh e la y fo r a lon g tim e thinkin g o f thi s dream
, slo w tear s gathering beneath her eyelids.
Eventually, she rose, folded the blanket lengthwise, and hid it beneath the
cushions. Several times during the day she went t o th e te a roo m t o

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se e i f i t wa s stil l there
. Sh e slep t wit h i t close aroun d her every night thereafter .
Some time after this one of the assistan t librarian s spoke to the air across
Marianne's shoulder saying that Mr. Grassi would b e researchin g certai n
literatur e i n th e smal l readin g roo m late r i n th e day
. Late r th e sam e person
, stil l speakin g t o th e vacan t an d unresponsiv e air
, sai d tha t Mr.Grass i woul d nee d th e book s reserved for him in
the thaumaturgy section. Marianne under-
stoo d thi s t o mea n tha t sh e shoul d fin d th e book s i n
Thau
-
maturg y an d delive r the m t o Reading
. A
s wa s th e cas e wit h mos t location s i n th e building
, bot h Thaumaturg y an d Readin g were uncertain. She was sometimes
amazed that she always seemed to be able to get to any place indicated by
these oblique instructions. This time she referred to the large chart hanging
behind the head librarian's desk and was able to puzzle out a rout e t o an
d from
. Sh e wa s approachin g th e smal l readin g roo m whe n sh e hear d
th e doorma n sa y behin d her
, "Goo d afternoon
, Mr. Grassi," and was able to follow the strange hunched figure thu s
addresse d a s i t move d betwee n tw o stack s an d throug h the half
hidden door. She caught the door as it closed and entered.
He was seated at the round table set in an arc of window, peerin g throug h
th e on e transparen t pan e a t th e narro w vie w o f th e garde n
outside
. Tattere d lilie s bloome d ther e unde r th e lash of a cold wind, and
the man's head nodded in time with their nodding as though the wind blew him
as well. When she put the books at his elbow, he turned to look directly into
her eyes
. "Th e book s I ordered?
" h e asked
.
Tear s spille d dow n he r cheek s befor e sh e wa s awar e o f them
,

pouring across her face in forked runnels , wettin g the sides of her nose,
the corners of her mouth, dripping untidily from her chin. She fumbled for a
tissue, blotting her face, apologizing while Mr. Grass! engaged in a strange
little dance of compas-
sio n whic h h e wov e abou t he r ou t o f pat s an d poke s an d
jiggin g steps.
"I' m sorry, " sh e sai d angrily
. " I don'
t kno w wha t go t int o me."
H e ha d pulle d ou t a chai r fo r her
, bumpin g i t int o he r leg s fro m behin d wit h suc h vigo r tha
t sh e fel l int o it . "M
y dear
, my dear," he said, emphasizing each word with another pat of his pawlike
little hands. "Please don't cry, my dear."
Marianne wiped away another freshet, confused by the trou-
bled face before her. His mouth was open, the tip of his tongue showin g a t
on e sid e o f i t i n a n expressio n o f suc h comica l an d doggy
concern that she almost laughed. "You looked directly at me," she sobbed.
"They don't do that here. They don't see me.

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" An d havin g sai d thi s sh e wa s awar e fo r th e firs t tim e
o f it s truth
. Indeed
. The y di d no t se e her
; the y di d no t se e on e another
. The y lived
, i f thi s wa s living
, an d worke d an d were withou t tru e knowledg e o f on e another
, actin g a t ever y momen t in the faith, perhaps only the hope, that
others were there, but without the evidence of it. Perhaps it was only that
things did, eventually
, happe n i n respons e t o thei r expresse d hope s o r need s which
made them believe that others were present, that others heard
, saw
, felt
, did
. "The y don'
t se e me!
" sh e asserte d again
, "But you did. It made me cry!"
Unawar e o f he r revelation
, h e attempte d comfor t whic h sh e did not need. Their mutual
incomprehension straggled into silence. He sat looking at her, tongue still
caught between his teeth as though it were too long to be completely
withdrawn.
Marianne blotted herself dry and said, "The people here at the library do not
look at one. I realize now that they can't. But it's nerve-wracking never to
be noticed, seen. So, when you did, I was so grateful to know that I'm
actually here."
H e shoo k hi s head
, no t i n confusio n o r negation
, bu t a s thoug h i n commiseration
. "Bu t o f cours e yo u ar e here
, m y dear
. That'
s th e whol e thing
, isn'
t it . Yo u ar e here
, an d w e don'
t wan t yo u her e a t all.
" The y bot h subside d afte r this
. Sh e

di d no t fee l sh e ha d explained
, an d sh e ha d no t understoo d what he had just said, but they were
convinced of one another's good will.
"May I get you anything else?" she asked, suddenl y con-
scious of her position as staff.
"Not at all. We have the two I asked for:
Doing and Undoing, an d her e i s Macravail'
s
To
Hold
Forever.
Macravai l i s the authority on malign enchantment , of course." He tipped
his hea d t o on e sid e s o tha t hi s eye s wer e almos t abov e
on e anothe r as he regarded her from this strange angle. "Can I do anything
for you?" This offer, the last word whispered in an intensely confidentia l
tone

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, caugh t he r s o b y surpris e tha t sh e shoo k he r head, saying,
no, no, not at all, before she realized she could have said, yes, of course,
you can help me escape. But the momen t ha d passed
, h e ha d turne d t o th e book s an d wa s no w reading while one
finger tap-tapped at the page. The picture on the page was familiar , and
Mariann e stared at it for a long time over his shoulder before creeping out
and away to her ow n plac e t o wor k ther e whil e th e ligh t fro m
th e windo w swun g slowly from right to left as the mornin g gave way to
late afternoon
. Th e inevitabl e erran d materialize d t o tak e he r t o th e
fourt h mezzanin e jus t befor e th e door s wer e locked
, bu t after
-
ward she did not go either to her desk or to the tea room.
Instead, moved by some obscure impulse she could not have explained
, sh e wen t bac k t o th e readin g roo m wher e Mr
. Grass i had spent the day. The room was empty, the books lying on the
table. She took up the one titled
To Hold Forever, thinking to take it to her own desk for a while. Through the
single transparent pane of the window she saw persons gathering in th e
garden
, pushin g throug h th e shrubber y t o crow d a t th e sid e of the
building to lie down there with their heads and shoulders hidden. She knew
then that the staff tea room lay immediatel y belo w thi s roo m an d tha
t th e person s gathere d outsid e wer e those who peered so greedily in
upon her if she was unwary enough to leave the lights on. From above they
looked ominous, bulk y an d amorphous
, a s thoug h constructe d o f shadows
. Sh e did not attract their attention as she took the book away.
A t he r ow n des k sh e turne d th e page s on e b y on e bu t wa
s unabl e t o fin d th e familia r picture
. Face s stare d a t he r fro m th e

pages, demon faces, ordinary faces, bulky forms like those in th e garden
, lon g page s o f incomprehensibl e words
. Sh e lef t th e boo k i n th e readin g roo m befor e sh e wen t
downstairs
.
Evidently the page she sought was one only Mr. Grassi could find
. Sh e di d no t fin d thi s ide a a t al l surprising
.
She was waiting for him when he arrived the next day as sh e ha d someho w
know n h e would
. Sh e blocke d th e aisl e leading to the reading room, giving him no
room to walk around her
, read y fo r th e questio n sh e ha d know n h e woul d ask
. "I
s there anything I can do for you?"
to which she replied, "Will yo u ope n th e boo k fo r me
, please?
" I t wa s no t quit e wha t sh e had planned to say, but it was close
enough.
H e le d he r int o th e room
, opene d th e boo k upo n th e table
, holdin g i t wit h on e han d a s h e guide d he r ow n t o th e
heav y pages
. "I
t won'
t sta y ope n unles s yo u hol d it, " h e said

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. H
e waited patiently for her to refuse or ask other questions, but she had done
what she planned to do and could think of nothing else. He left her then, and
she sat in his place at the table to examine the picture of herself, seated on
the couch in the tea room
, th e ligh t fallin g diml y throug h th e high
, barre d window
.
The text on the facing page began, "Her desk was on an upper level of the
library, as were those of the assistant librarians, bu t not
, a s their s were
, upo n th e balcon y itself...
" I t wen t on
, endin g a t th e botto m o f th e page
, "Bu t sh e ha d don e wha t sh e planned to do and could think of
nothing else."
Sh e coul d no t believ e wha t sh e ha d read
, dare d no t clos e the book or turn the page. She read it again and yet
again, not needing to have read it at all.
She was brought to her sense of time by a scratching at the windo w whic h
prove d t o b e on e o f th e shadow y peerers
, ev
-
idently balanced upon the shoulders of one of his fellows to pres s hal f hi
s fac e agains t th e transparen t glas s an d star e i n a t her,
mouth making fish motions, words she could not lip read an d wante d no t t
o hear
. Holdin g th e boo k carefull y ope n wit h on e hand
, Mariann e turne d ou t th e light
. A
mutterin g outsid e th e windo w becam e a crashin g soun d an d a
loude r shoutin g the n wit h tone s o f anger
. Th e peerer-i n ha d fallen
. Sh e sa t fo r a long time without being able to make up her mind whether
to take the book to her own desk or to carry it down to her

couch or leave it where it was. In the end she did none of these, merely sat
where she was, staring blankly at the wall until she fell asleep sitting
upright to wake in the dim gray of mornin g no w knowin g wher e sh e was
. Whe n Mr
. Grass i cam e in, much later, to take the book from her, she was so
cramped sh e coul d hardl y stand
.
This time she was completely ready for his question, an almost hysterica l
readiness hi which her answer nearly preceded hi s question
. "Ca n I d o anythin g fo r you?"
wa s uttere d almos t simultaneousl y with "Help me! For God's sake, help
me!"

"M
Y DEAR, " H
E SAID
, " I will
, o f course
, i f I may.
"
Muc h late r Mariann e wa s t o wonde r a t hi s choic e o f words
, his saying "If I may," rather than "If I can." At the moment, she heard only

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the "I will, of course," and let herself fall upon these words as a starving
animal upon food, ravenous and unheedin g o f an y othe r thing
. Sh e hun g upo n hi s ar m whil e h e patted at her, still panting,
tongue protruding at the corner of hi s mouth
, eye s ful l o f seemingl y uncomprehendin g concern
.
I t wa s thi s expressio n whic h tol d he r h e di d no t kno w
wha t sh e neede d o r wanted
, an d tha t sh e mus t g o furthe r tha n sh e had gone in
imagination or all her efforts would be lost. She must define the
inexplicable, demand assistance for a condition whic h sh e coul d no t
define
. " I a m no t mad, " sh e sai d tenta
-
tively
. "Truly
, I a m no t mad.
"
No
, hi s expressio n seeme d t o say
, o f cours e not
. Yo u ar e distressed
, onl y distressed
. I t wa s no t enough
.
" I canno t ge t ou t o f th e library, " sh e said
. " I can'
t ge t out
.
Please
, d o no t thin k I' m craz y whe n I tel l yo u this
. It'
s true
.
I cannot escape. Help me." There, it was said, and nothing she could add to it
or take from it would make it clearer.

He move d away from her, his dancin g little feet carryin g hi m i n short
, jiggin g step s t o th e windo w and
, fro m it , t o th e bookshelves and, from them, to the mantlepiece—th e
reading room had a large and ornate mantle stretching elegant gilt and inlays
above a mingy gas fire—an d from it, warblin g a little aggrieved sound, like
a frustrated cricket caught in a dilemma of its own making. At last he came to
rest in the bowed window, bent forward a little to peer through the one clear
pane, hands behind him as he rocked upon his heels and toes, up and down
again, like some children's toy sent into ceaseless motion by a restles s
hand
.
"The answers to everything are in the books," he said to her. "It is in
knowing which books, of course, and where to look. Most of the people in this
city cannot get into the library, you understand that?" He cast her a sharp,
questioning look, began to warble again.
"I read the book you opened for me," she said stubbornly , wondering if he
were testing her or would question her upon th e content s o f tha t book
. " I di d rea d it.
"
"Of course. And I'm sure the answer is there.
Would you like for me to open it again?" He turned to meet her silence, her
baffled quiet which hid bursting volcanos of weary rebellion and panic.

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"I t wasn't, " sh e whispered
. 'Trul y i t wasn't
. I t wa s onl y my story. Mine. And I already know it."
'Tsk
. Well
, w e ofte n sa y w e know thing s whe n w e ar e onl y familia r wit
h them
, yo u know
. M
y dear
, I hav e spen t al l th e time today that is safe. Let me give you my
card. When you have read again , I'm sure you'l l find it useful . You will
find me there any morning . It may be dangerou s to be on the streets after
noon. Let me open the book for you again and settle you comfortably , so. Now
I must run."
An d sh e wa s seate d onc e agai n a s sh e ha d bee n fo r a da
y and a night, the light of the brass table lamp upon the picture o f he r
ow n fac e starin g u p fro m th e basemen t room
. Sh e coul d see every detail of that room; the couch, the floor, the high
barre d windo w wit h th e face s i n it , th e te a urn
, th e ja r o f stal e biscuits. Even on the page their staleness was
manifest, part o f th e desig n intende d b y th e artist
, par t o f th e story
. Th e

staleness was intentional , as was the dust, the stuffed birds in the
basement, the writhing railings beside the stairway. Under he r finger s wa
s th e car d h e ha d give n her
.
Cani
Grassi, Con-
sultant, Eight Manticore Street.
The card was very heavy, more like metal than paper, with a design embossed
upon its back.
She ran her fingers over it, feeling a glow, a warm tingling whic h gre w a
s sh e presse d th e car d t o he r fac e the n thrus t i t dow n
he r neck
, saf e beneat h a strap
. Graduall y th e warmt h died
, thoug h sh e coul d fee l th e pressur e o f th e car d agains t
he r skin, the sharp demarcation of comers beside her breast bone.
She sat until dark, staring at the window , caugh t in a timeles s eddy of
despair which allowed no movement or thought. Then the faces pressed against
the pane in the window drew her attention and sent her into a spasm of weary
revulsion. She turned out the light and made her way to the washroom , the boo
k stil l ope n i n he r hands
. Sh e sa t i n on e o f th e cubicles
, he r trouser s aroun d he r knees
, t o rea d th e stor y agai n an d again
.
Ther e wa s nothin g ne w i n it . Whe n he r eye s wer e s o heav
y she could not keep them focused, she struggled through a final sentence:
"She was sometimes amazed that she always seemed t o b e abl e t o ge t t
o an y plac e indicate d b y thes e obliqu e in
-
structions." Then there was only wakefulness enough left to get to her couch
and stretch out upon it, the book open beneath the cushions and herself
wrapped into the timeless security of her blanket.
Whe n sh e woke

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, i t wa s t o remembe r th e las t thin g sh e ha d read. Her first
act was to recover the book and read the sentenc e onc e again
.
She was sometimes amazed that she always seemed to be able to get to any
place indicated by these oblique in-
structions.
The solution was clear in her mind, including all the tortuous steps she would
need to go through to accomplish it. Someone in the library must be induced to
tell her that something—some book, some paper, some item of equipment was
needed outside. Outside!
But first she had to eat, to drink, to wash herself and comb her hair, to be
ordinary, customary. Even if they could not truly se e her
, ther e mus t b e nothin g i n th e atmospher e a t al l different
.
" I mus t b e a n ordinar y ghost, " sh e sai d wit h som e cheer
. " A
usua l ghost
, givin g n o evidenc e o f untowar d hauntin g beyon d the acceptable
routine." When all did, indeed, go as usual

during the day, she was made confident enough to approach th e char t whic h
hun g behin d th e hea d librarian'
s desk
.
The portico was on the chart. The areaway where deliveries were made was
shown. The small, walled courtyard outside the board room was labeled. The
garden outside the reading roo m wher e sh e ha d me t Can i Grass i di
d no t appea r o n th e chart. She had looked out at that garden, at the
swath of lawn, the ragged edging of shrubbery. There was no wall, no fence, an
d i t wa s no t upo n th e chart
. Mariann e too k comfor t fro m this. What was not on the chart would not
be a pan of the library
, n o matte r ho w clos e i t lay
.
And a place which did not lie on the chart would not be mentione d b y an y
o f th e assistan t librarians
. No t today
, sh e thought, nor tomorrow. But later—yes. Later, someone would mention it.
That night she sat in the reading room until dark, her mes-
sage carefully prepared on a sheet of paper, the light on to attract the
peerers. When she heard the first sound of them, she moved to the window to
hold her message against the clear pane where they could not fail to see it.
"If you will put a sign ou t ther e sayin g NE
W STORAG
E AREA
, I wil l brin g yo u some books." There was a confused mumbling from
outside.
She thought she heard the words of her message repeated in a rumbling voice,
then again in a higher tone with fringes of hysteria. A confused chattering
preceded a tap at the window.
She moved her own paper away to see a message pressed against the pane from
outside. "One book first. Book name
Eternal Blood.
Put out coal chute."
She did not know the book or where it could be found nor, fo r tha t matter
, wher e th e coa l chute was
. Still
, i f the y wer e in the building, presumabl y they could be found. She
wrote o n th e bac k o f he r paper

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, presse d i t t o th e pane
: "I'l l try.
"
Outside was only silence. When she looked through the win-
dow, there were only the shadows thrown by the street lamps and passing cars,
nothing else. Throughout all the days, weeks—
perhaps longer—that she had worked in the library, she had discovered no
system of indexing, no catalogue listing titles or authors. She knew that
finding the book would have to occur in the way everything in the library
happened, by indirection an d repetition
. Thoug h sh e ha d littl e confidenc e i n th e attempt
,

having seen nothing communicate d in writing heretofore, she lef t notes on
various desks saying that
Eternal Blood needed to be taken to the reading room. She replaced these notes
at intervals, for they vanished even from desks at which no one wa s observe
d working
.
Sh e ha d ha d n o grea t hope s fo r thi s i n an y case
. He r bes t effort th e hearin s wen t int o repetition
. Wheneve r sh e foun , sh d hersel f withi n g o f som e othe r
librar y employee e woul d sa y i n a plaintiv e voic e tha t th e
boo k
Eternal
Blood wa s neede d i n th e readin g room
. Sh e se t hersel f th e goa l o f sayin g thi s on e hundre d time
s durin g th e firs t thre e days
, an d whe n sh e wen t t o he r res t eac h nigh t i t wa s wit h
a n hones t wearines s comin g fro m muc h runnin g abou t durin g the day
to put herself withi n hearing of shadowy figures which seemed to dissolve
from one plac e t o anothe r i n a mos t unsteadyin g fashion
. Th e day s fol
-
lowe d on e another
. Ha d sh e no t observe d th e grea t lengt h o f tim e i t too k
fo r message s t o b e receive d an d acte d upon
, sh e woul d hav e despaired
, bu t sh e ha d estimate d i t woul d tak e a t least seven or eight
days for anything at all to happen. Thus it wa s wit h som e degre e o f
surpris e tha t sh e foun d th e boo k i n th e readin g roo m o n
th e fift h da y afte r Mr
. Grassi'
s las t visit
.
It lay atop the books Mr. Grassi had requested, massive, covered in black
leather with lettering in red. Marianne opened it only once before shutting it
with a shudder which recurred al l afternoon
. I t wa s a boo k devote d t o th e subjec t o f torment
.
Marianne did not ask herself what the peerers might want with it, knowing that
conscience might rise out of her confusion to attack her if she thought about
it. It was enough that the book was the one named, the one which might buy her
a way out.
Finding the coal chute had been an easy thing in comparison, a matter of
prowling the dim corridors of the sub-basement in searc h o f a furnac e
an d findin g a monstrou s iro n octopu s a t las t which bellowed an d
roared a t he r a s sh e passed, emitting agonize d groans and fitful
breaths of fiery heat. She had crept by it fearfully , crouchin g under its

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widesprea d tentacles which reache d ou t throug h th e wall s an d
upwar d int o th e fles h o f th e place .
A s sh e ducke d beneat h on e o f thes e great
, hollo w arms
, sh e hear d fro m withi n i t a distant
, mockin g chuckl e carrie d dow n throug h heave n kne w wha t floor
s an d annexe s an d loft y mez
-

zanines from some high, remote place where someone laughed.
I t wa s a derisory laugh.
Ha d i t been repeated, Marianne fel t she would not have had the courag e to
go on, but the sound di d no t com e again
. I n a littl e roo m behin d th e furnac e sh e found the coal chute,
too high for her to reach until she fetched a broke n chai r fro m th e
roo m o f furnitur e an d mounte d i t unsteadily to open the corroded
hatch, thrust the book through, and then, half losing her balance, let the
hatch fall with a dull, hideou s clan g lik e th e li d o f a coffi n
o r vault
.
The buildin g fell silent, as though listening . The furnac e di d no t roa
r o r breathe
. Whe n Mariann e crep t u p th e stair s an d into the lobby, it was
into this same ominous silence.
At every des k head s wer e cocked
, eye s starin g a s thoug h eac h on e waite d fo r motion
, an y motion
, t o identif y wh o ha d bee n responsibl e fo r th e sound
. Sh e di d no t move
, merel y crouche d besid e th e door
, a s silen t an d unmovin g a s they
, unti l someon e coughe d and the spell was broken. She had not been
perceived, she told herself
, thankfu l fo r th e firs t tim e tha t the y simpl y di d no t se
e her .
She went to her couch that night with a sense of fruition.
Th e nex t ste p waite d o n thos e outside
, an d sh e listene d i n th e dark quiet to know whether they had found
the book or not.
It had not been dark long when she heard them cheering, a species of rejoicing
with overtones of hysteria and despair. Then a flickering light came through
the window and she knew they ha d lighte d a fire
. Fro m he r plac e sh e coul d se e shadow s a s leapin g figure s
capere d an d gamboled
. Wer e the y burnin g th e book
? Sh e wa s mor e please d tha n otherwis e t o thin k the y migh t
hav e dispose d o f it , an d wit h i t whateve r damag e i t migh t
hav e done. A daytime view of the garden affirmed her assumption, fo r th e
scar s o f fir e wer e ther e a s wel l a s scrap s o f blac k whic
h she could identify as bits of the binding, some with lines of red lettering
still visible. She paid little attention to these, for th e signboar d dre w
he r eyes
, a nicel y varnishe d boar d supporte d by two uprights, lettered in
black and gold as though by a professiona l sig n painter
: NE
W STORAG
E AREA
. Ver y well
.

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She planned the next step.
But all her plans were delayed by a bustle in the library, a boiling, a
throbbing of purpose as it was announced by the head librarian that a meeting
of the Library Board of Trustees

was to take place within hours, short hours, perhaps on the morrow. The
morning lineup of assistant librarians was thrown into confusio n by this
proclamation , and the usual plaintiv e statemen t gained an immediac y of
effect which Mariann e had no t see n before
. Th e larg e doubl e door s t o th e Boar d Roo m were opened for the
first time she could remember . Books and papers which had cluttered the
approach to this room were carried away. Even Mr. Gerald arrived unannounce d
and was see n t o carr y a pil e o f volume s awa y t o som e othe r
place
. Th e roo m wa s cleane d an d th e window s opene d t o ai r i t
out
; a fir e wa s lai d upo n th e hearth
, on e surmounte d b y a n overmantl e of such complexity to make the one
in the reading room seem simpl e i n comparison
. Th e activit y too k mos t o f th e day
, durin g which time everyone's attention was fixed and could not have been
diverted .
The meetin g was held in the late afternoon , after all the staff had gone
except the head librarian . The usual shadow y figure s whic h Mariann e
equate d wit h porter s o r janitor s wer e nowhere to be seen. She
herself had considered hiding in the washroo m o r th e te a room
, i n som e empt y roo m o f a sub
-
basement, perhaps in a hidey hole hollowed out among the broke n furniture
, bu t th e though t o f bein g hidde n whil e thi s strange, new
activity went on was outweighed by her need to se e an d kno w wha t woul
d occur
. Th e juxtapositio n o f thi s meeting and the destruction of the book
which she, Marianne, had put out the coal chute was significant to her. A book
had bee n burned
; a meetin g ha d bee n called—bot h notabl e event s and perhaps not
unconnected. At last she decided to cache herself in a far front corner of the
third mezzanine, a pocket o f shado w abov e th e ligh t o f th e shade
d chandelie r whic h hun g one level below this to wet the lobby floor with
its weak, watery light. From this vantage point she could see the members as
they arrived, see them obsequiously, even cravenly greeted by the head
librarian. The chairman arrived last of all, and Mari-
ann e hear d th e hea d libraria n say
, "Goo d evening
, Madam e
Delubovoska..."
The drawling voice which answered filled the lobby, as-
cende d t o th e gree n skyligh t fa r above
, move d inexorabl y out
-
war d fro m th e plac e o f utteranc e t o th e balcon y edges
, thrus t through the banisters to flow into the aisles of books, soaking

each volume in turn so that the very bindings became redolent with that sound,
not echoing but vibrating nonetheless in a reverberatin g hu m large r tha
n th e buildin g itself
, a seekin g pressure which left no corner unexplored . The words did not
matter, could not be heard. The voice mattered, for it took possessio n o f

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Page 116

al l i t touched
, penetrate d an d amalgamate d int o itsel f al l tha t i t reached
.
Mariann e saw the voice , saw the shudde r of it go forth throug h th e
structure
, a tremorou s wav e a s i n a shee t shake n by the wind, the
returning vibration trembling through the coiled railings . She felt the
shudde r in the sam e instan t she felt Mr.
Grassi's card begin to burn upon her shoulder with a pervasive heat which
covered her and radiated from her. Her hand lay upo n th e railing
; sh e fel t th e las h a s th e braze n circlet s uncoile d to
reveal flat, triangular serpents' heads, mouths gaping with fang s extended
, strikin g fro m amon g th e knot s o f bronz e acan
-
thu s t o she d veno m lik e rai n upo n th e stack s below
. On e serpen t struc k a hand s widt h fro m he r hand
, an d o n th e lobb y floo r beneat h sh e coul d se e th e serpent
s glidin g i n thei r tangle d thousands .
The warmth which came from the card at her shoulder sur-
rounde d her
, clos e a s th e blanke t sh e ha d found
, s o tha t sh e looked out upon madness from the security of her own
impen-
etrable shell, as marvelous as it was unexpected. In all that lofty, ramifie d
building there was only this one flaw in the fabric of the place, this one
error in calculation of resonances, thi s on e ga p i n th e fata l
architectur e o f th e buildin g t o allo w a smal l spher e o f war
m protectio n wher e th e voic e di d no t reach
.
Sh e sa w th e serpent s strik e an d strik e agai n whil e th e
woma n walke d with the head libraria n throug h the doors of the Boar d
Room
, sa w the m coi l agai n int o thos e baroqu e tangle s fro m whic h
the y ha d emerged
, an d kne w tha t sh e ha d bee n reprieved
, saved, by some intent she had known nothing of. Had that voice fallen on
unprotected ears she would have been bitten, poisoned
, dead
.
Whe n th e member s o f th e boar d ha d shu t th e grea t door s
behind them , Mariann e staye d wher e she was, not darin g to move so much as
an inch to the right or left, as sure of her safety in that one place as she
had ever been sure of anythin g and as sure of her jeopardy if she moved as
she was sure she

had heard nemesis in the voice of Madame Delubovoska.
The meeting was not long, barely long enough to offer an excuse for the
assembly to have met at all. When they had gone, truly gone, she came down
from her perch at last, slowly, sniffing the air as for fire or some odorous
beast. All was as usual to the eyes, to the nose, to the ears, but she knew
that somethin g had sought to smoke her out, and she knew that every previous
threat had been multiplied a hundredfold ; every previous shadow folded upon
itself to a deeper opacity; every myster y stirre d int o menac e an d
jelled
. Onl y th e remainin g tingle of Mr. Grassi's card against her skin, only
the sound of whisperers at the windows demanding books, books she had promised
, brough t he r t o ful l determinatio n again
.
Fro m tha t tim e on

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, wheneve r book s wer e mentioned
, Mari
-
anne would say, "You said the New Storage Area, didn't you, Librarian?"
Wheneve r she was within hearing range of any
'figure
, sh e woul d say
, "Thos e book s shoul d b e take n t o th e
New Storage Area." So it went, day by day by day. She had becom e s o
accustome d t o failur e tha t succes s almos t elude d her. Almost she
missed the assistant librarian's gesture toward the pile of books on her desk.
Almost she missed the figure's quie t voic e sayin g i n th e usua l
indirec t manner
, "Thes e book s belong in the New Storage Area."
Marianne gathered them up. There were six or seven, not a heavy load. She had
kept the two books Mr. Grassi had asked fo r o n he r des k fo r days
, fo r i t wa s he r intentio n t o tak e thes e as well. If they were
usefu l inside the library , they would be doubl y usefu l outside
, o r s o sh e reasoned
. Sh e adde d the m t o the pile and started for the door, sure someone
would stop her.
The doorman ignored her. She leaned against the glassy slab, feeling it move
reluctantl y before her slight weight , steppe d through onto the portico. She
trembled as she went down the step s an d aroun d th e come r t o th e
garden
, t o th e sign
. Th e shrubber y wa s ful l o f shadow s an d eyes
. Thos e wh o ha d danced
, cheered, whispere d through high window s were there, just out of sight,
watchin g her throug h the foliage with greedy intensity .
She dropped all the books but her two and fled back to the sidewalk, hearing
them scramblin g behind her. One of them cam e afte r her
, no t threatening
, merel y following
; sh e coul d hear the scrape of shoes.

Against her skin was the card Mr. Grassi had given her.
Behin d he r i n th e librar y wa s onl y a n enormou s quiet
. Behin d he r o n th e sidewal k th e muffle d step s cam e on
, hesitan t bu t determined
, givin g notic e the y woul d g o whereve r sh e chos e to go.

SHE
HA D
BEE N
s o intent upon leaving th e library that sh e ha d spent little time
planning what to do once she had escaped.
She would, of course, find her way to Number Eight Manticor e
Street. She assumed that she would be able to ask directions, that condition s
outsid e the library would be someho w differen t fro m condition s insid e
it . However
, ther e wa s n o on e t o ask
.
The footsteps behind her, persistent though they were, did not indicate a
visible person to whom a question could be directed.
Sh e foun d hersel f walkin g throug h a neighborhoo d o f narrow
-
fronte d house s whic h stare d nearsightedl y a t he r ove r hig h

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stoops and scraps of entryway relieved only by tattered yews an d spectra l
cypresses
. A
n iron-fence d squar e centere d thi s area, a stretch of weedy grass
around a dilapidated bandstand where shreds of paint flickered like pennants
in the light wind.
Sh e wen t o n walking
. Th e house s gav e wa y t o massive
, win
-
dowless warehouses, every wall plastered with colored posters, layer on layer,
variousl y tattered , all showin g human figures , the irregular tearing and
layering offering odd, sometime s ob-
scen Occasionall e juxtaposition s o f hands
, breasts
, groins
, an d mouths
.
y a figur e wa s untorn
, almos t whole
, an d al l o f

these seemed to be fleeing from her as though she saw them fro m th e back
, thoug h face s wer e sometime s turne d ove r shoul
-
ders in expressions of terror. Soon the warehouses gave way to smalle r
buildings , dirt-fronte d and surrounde d by bits of rusty machinery , and
then came open countr y stretchin g in a featureless plain to a distant wall
which ran endlessly upon the horizon.
In all this way there had been no person , no living thing, no sound except
for the hesitan t steps far behind her. Sighing , sh e turne d t o he r
lef t fo r a fe w block s befor e returnin g o n a cours e paralle l
t o he r origina l one
. Sh e bega n t o se e shop s o n the side streets, some of them
overhangin g the street in the archaic manner of fairy tale illustrations. The
buildings here were plastere d with the same type of paper poster s she had
see n o n th e warehouses
. A
littl e farthe r o n th e shop s invade d the street she walked upon; a
news kiosk, papers arrayed on the counter, caught her eye. The headline
displayed on the pape r sai d LIBRAR
Y BOAR
D DISCUSSE
S THEFT
, VAN
-
DALISM
. Th e stor y beneat h tol d o f a mino r clerica l employe e wh o
ha d take n an d wantonl y destroye d som e books
. Desecra
-
tion
, sai d th e paper
. Citizen s wer e alerte d t o apprehend
, ob
-
serve
, notify
.

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Her panic could have been observable a block away, she knew. How had there
been time to print anything about her escape
? I t ha d onl y jus t happened
. The y mus t hav e know n he r plan s befor e sh e hersel f wa s
awar e o f thei r fruition
. Or—i t was someone else, not herself that they sought. And how could they
seek her? They had never seen her. The story named the person
: Mildre d Cobb
.
Nonsense, thought Marianne. I am not Mildred Cobb. I am
Marianne..
. Marianne..
. someone
. Fea r spok e within
, sel f speakin g t o self
. "Ho w d o yo u know
? Coul d yo u prov e this
?
Woul d the y believ e you
? Yo u ar e carryin g stole n books
. Yo u ar e wearin g th e librar y uniform.
"
Ther e wa s n o on e aroun d her
, n o on e t o se e her
, an d ye t sh e fel t eye s runnin g upo n he r ski n lik e insec t
feet
. A
bookstor e stood behind the kiosk, its interior a well of dusky emptiness.
Whe n sh e entere d i t th e bel l gav e a strangle d jingl e rapidl
y drowne d i n th e oing
, oing
, oin g o f th e sprin g o n whic h i t hung
, a tinny whine. She crept to the rear of the store, pulled ancient

books from shelves undisturbed for years, sneezing in the miasmic cloud which
rose as she thrust the books and her collar into hiding. There. She could find
them again, but no one else would. She started to leave, freezing hi place as
heavy footsteps crosse d th e floo r abov e he r an d a dee p voic e
called
.
"Somebody? You want something?"
She gasped, managed to choke out, "A map of the city?
You have a city map?"
"Behind the counter. You want it, leave the money." The footsteps crossed over
her once more; the creak of springs capitalized the silence which followed, a
statement of condi-
tion .
There was no Manticore Street on the map. When she re-
turned to the street, she went on as she had been, noting the signpost at the
corner so that she could find the place again, chanting it to herself as she
went, "Billings and Twelfth. Bill-
ings and Twelfth." She had gone a dozen blocks more before she saw the first
person. Then there were several, a woman wit h a dog
, tw o me n talking
, the n ten s o f them
.
There was a grocery store, cartons of fruit and vegetables on the sidewalk,
jicama and artichokes, thrilps and fresh fennel.
Her e a pharmacy

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, a n alchemist's
, a coffe e sho p wit h a sig n i n the window, "Dishwasher wanted."
Here a church from which solemn music oozed like rendered fat. Here an
augurer's post, a dealer in leather goods, a feticheur. She moved among these
places as though dreaming, surrounded by life and smells and sound, acutely
aware of weariness and hunger. When this busy center ended hi vacant streets
once more, she turned to walk throug h i t again
, stoppin g a t th e coffe e shop
. Sh e ha d n o money
.
She needed food.
"Dishwasher?" she asked the stout woman with her sleeves rolled to her
shoulders. "The job as dishwasher?"
"Last dishwasher I had the Inquisitors took two days ago.
The one before that drank. You drink?"
Marianne shook her head, confused. "Not—not what you mean, no. I'd drink
something now, though. I haven't had anything all day."
"Ah. On Manticore Street, are you? Well, I've been there more than once. You
got a place to stay? No. Well, bunk on the cot in the storeroom until you find
a place. Get yourself

some food in the kitchen, then you can start in on those pans."
Th e bow l o f sou p wa s hal f gon e befor e th e woman'
s word s made sense to Marianne. "Manticore Street, are you?" Well, then, it
was a known place. She thought of it as she ate, as sh e scrubbe d pots
, smellin g th e fatt y soa p smel l o f th e sink
, the good meat smell of the kitchen. When darkness came, the woman, Helen,
shut the door and got ready to leave. Marianne asked, "Why do you say, 'on
Manticore Street'? Is it a real street?"
"When you haven't got any money, that's being on Man-
ticor e Street, " Hele n said
. "Becaus e that's wher e th e poorhous e and the debtor's prison are, on
Twelfth Street, where the Man-
ticore is. You're a stranger here, aren't you? No, don't tell me anything
. I don'
t wan t t o know
. Jus t remember
, don'
t as k ques
-
tions of strangers, and don't stay on the streets any time on shut-down day.
Do that, and you might last. God knows there's enoug h tim e t o las t in.
" Sh e lef t th e plac e wit h a bitte r littl e laugh which sounded
spare and edgy from so large a woman.
"On Twelfth Street, where the Manticore is," said Marianne to herself. She
would find it soon, perhaps tomorrow. Her hands were sore from the hot water,
her feet and back ached from bending over the sink. Still, she felt closer to
freedom than she ha d eve r fel t i n th e library
. Ther e wa s eve n a blanke t o n th e co t t o hu g he r wit h
th e sam e scratch y protectio n th e blu e on e had provided.
I t wa s severa l day s befor e sh e coul d loo k fo r Manticor e
Street. She did not want to go out in the library uniform, and it took a
little time to earn the coins necessary to buy a bright scarf from the pushcar
t man, an old, warm cape from the used clothes woman , a pair of stocking s to
replace the ragged ones she had worn in the library. She watched the women in
the plac e a s the y walke d past
. The y wer e dresse d a s thoug h i n motley
, bit s an d piece s o f thi s an d that
, som e carelessly

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, other s with a touch of defiant flair. Still, it was apparen t that any old
thing would do well enough.
She returne d from her foray for stocking s to find Helen reading the paper.
Everyone in the city read the paper—copies of it littered the gutters and blew
along the building fronts.
"Tomorrow's shut-down day," said Helen, folding the paper into a club with
which she beat the countertop in a steady thud,

thud, thud. "Shut-down day. I won't be in."
"Shut-dow n day?
"
"Don't be on the street after noon, girl. I mean it. There's plenty to eat
back there in the kitchen, plenty of cleaning to do to keep you busy. Stay in.
That's all. No—don't ask me.
I tol d you
. Don'
t as k questions.
"
"Yo u sai d no t t o as k strangers.
"
"We're all strangers, girl. Just do what I tell you."
That evening there was a tap on the window, and she looked ou t hal f
fearfull y t o se e a black
, hunche d for m agains t th e glas s an d kne w i t fo r tha t
persisten t followe r wh o ha d com e afte r her from the library. The
watche r tapped on the window , refused t o giv e u p whe n sh e attempte
d t o ignor e him
, bu t wen t o n wit h the slow tap, tap, tap, not threatening, merely
continuous until sh e coul d bea r th e soun d n o longer
. Almos t fearfull y sh e wen t t o th e windo w t o se e a messag e
thrus t agains t th e glass
. "No t al l wh o ar e her e ar e Manticor e meat
! Wil l yo u joi n us?
" Sh e di d no t kno w wha t thi s mean t an d di d no t wan t t o
encourag e the watcher, but neither did it seem wise to anger him. She wrote
upon a napkin the word "perhaps " and held it to the pane. This seemed to
satisfy him, for he scribbled, "I'll come back another time," showed it to her
briefly, then disappeared into the wind-scattere d shadows of the street.
Though Mariann e sat in the dark, watching the window for some time, he did
not return. ____
Mariann e tol d hersel f sh e woul d retriev e he r book s an d loo k
for Number Eight Manticore Street very early in the morning, only for an hour
or two, returning to the shop well before noon.
Sh e lef t jus t a t firs t light
, wearin g he r cape
, scar f tie d ove r he r head
. Th e market s wer e closed
. Ther e wer e onl y a fe w peopl e o n th e streets
. Thos e wh o move d abou t di d s o furtively
, scur
-
ryin g shor t distance s fro m thi s plac e t o tha t lik e mic e i
n a strange place. The odd looks directed at her made Marianne walk close to
the buildings , staring behind her at odd moments , hurryin g he r steps
. Sh e wen t sout h o n Billings
, countin g th e blocks: First, Second, Third.... By the time she had come
to
Seventh the walks were completely empty. Tattered posters glared at her from
the walls, full of reaching arms and fright-

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ene d eyes
. A
han d showe d briefl y a t a window
, flickin g a curtai n int o place
.

When she crossed Twelfth, she was almost running. The blind s wer e draw n
i n th e bookstore
, bu t th e doo r wa s no t locked. She eased it open, tiptoed to the
back of the store to fumbl e ou t th e book s sh e ha d hidde n there
, the n hurrie d bac k to the street, the door swinging closed behind her
with its insisten t oing
, oing
, oing
. Sh e turne d bac k t o Twelfth
, turne d righ t a t th e comer
, searchin g fo r th e numbers
. Eleven
. Thirteen
.
Odd numbers. The light around her was beginning to dim, to pulse
, t o wave r befor e he r eyes
. Sh e ra n acros s th e street
.
Number Six. Number Ten. No Number Eight. Panicky, she huddled in a doorway ,
seeing the street crawl before her as though seen through moving air or flawed
glass. It couldn't be noon yet. Helen had said stay off the streets after
noon.
No
, sh e crie d t o herself
. Hele n ha d sai d sta y in!
He r feelin g of panic was growing. Number Six. Number Ten. East. East!
She scurrie d from the doorway , turned right, patterin g down th e sidewal k
wit h th e heav y book s clutche d t o he r chest
, gasp
-
ing as though she had run miles, across Billings Street where the numbers
began again, only to stop, transfixed .
The corner shop was Number Four, a taxidermy shop, so labele d i n golde n
scrip t whic h slante d acros s th e windo w i n which the Manticore
poised, rampant, claws extended and teeth bared in glass-eyed fury, huge and
horrible. The beard of the
Manticor e seeme d t o rustl e wit h evi l life
; th e eye s seeme d t o se e her
. Th e eye s wer e dar k an d familiar
, glarin g a t her
, starin g int o her
, transfixin g he r unti l sh e tremble d agains t th e glass
, hypnotize d a s a bir d i s sai d t o b e b y a snake
, poise d betwee n surrender and fear.
Fear won, barely. She broke away from the window, ran past a vacant store to a
narrow door numbered eight at the foot o f equall y narro w stairs
. Behin d her
, a s sh e fle d u p thi s flight
, cam e a cras h o f breakin g glass
, a hideou s screa m o f rage
, a palpable wave of fury which thrust her before it up the last few steps
and through the opened door where Mr. Grassi caught her
, pushe d he r asid e an d leane d hi s whol e weigh t agains t th e

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door
. I t gav e slowly
, slowl y t o clos e agains t th e sound s below
.
"My dear," he said, panting, "you cut it close, very close.
Another moment would have been too late."
She staggered after him as he went to the window where h e pulle d th e
curtain s togethe r t o pee k throug h the m a t th e

street below. It was hard to see the street. It boiled with shad-
ows, ran with flickering. Thicknesses of air transgressed upon sight. Things
shifted, were there, were not there. Clouds of tiny beings came and went, a
slightly darker surge in the general flow
. Stridin g throug h i t all
, pac e o n pac e o f it s lio n feet
, tai l arched high above its giant man-head, came the Manticore, scorpio n
tai l lashin g a s th e beas t followe d it s ow n mani c how l along
the dream-wrapped street.
"There will be others," whispered Cani Grassi. 'Troops of mandrakes
, legion s o f Greas y Girls
. Th e Manticor e wil l lea d them, and woe to those abroad upon the
streets."
"Sh e sai d noon!
" complaine d Marianne
. "Noon
! I t wa s hour s yet to noon."
"One of the conditions of this city is that time changes, speeds
, slows
, doe s wha t they wan t i t t o do
. I n thi s case
, the y speede d it . A
tra p fo r th e unwary.
"
"They? They who? Why do they care? Why do they care abou t me
? Wh o a m I tha t the y shoul d care?
"
"Oh, Lords of Light," he fretted. "I hoped you knew. Truly?
Oh
, tha t make s i t s o muc h mor e difficult
. I
know yo u ar e someone very important , but I have forgotte n just who. Just
now it seems you are something less than that." He took her chapped hands
tenderly in his own. "Cleaning lady, is it?"
"Dishwasher, " sh e replie d absently
. "Wha t a m I doin g here?
"
"Ah
. Why
, yo u ar e sufferin g a malig n enchantment
. Tha t much I am sure of. I thought you might have guessed."
She collapsed into one of the chairs beside the window, staring out blindly at
the raging street below. "I hadn't guessed anything. Except that it was odd I
couldn't remember anything before the library."
"Many people here are like that," he said. "They have for-
gotten, or been forced to forget. Even I, even I have forgotten some things I
am sure are very important. Some people can remember nothing. Particularly
those in the library."
"So many? And all enchanted?"
"An accumulation , I believe. Some have been here for a very long time. Not

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only those enchanted by her!"
"Why
? Wh o i s she?
"
Cani Grassi shook his head, tilted it, thrust his tongue out at the comer of
his mouth. "I kept only a little informatio n

whe n I cam e afte r you
, onl y th e tinies t bit
, t o b e sneake d through
, s o a s no t t o attrac t attention
, yo u understand
. To o much would have alerted them, her. But a little bit, well, Macravai l
though t i t woul d b e saf e enough
. Whe n h e sen t me
, that is. To rescue you, whoever you are."
Sh e scarcel y hear d this
, fo r he r eye s ha d bee n caugh t b y a fleeing figure in the
street below. "Helen," she cried. "It's
Helen. I must go let her in...." And she ran toward the door, onl y t o b e
caugh t i n Grassi'
s arm s an d hel d fast
, struggling
.
"Not anyone real," he shook her. "Not real. Don't be so quick, Marianne . Look
out the window . Look!"
The woman fled toward them; behind her the Manticor e pursue d with a roarin g
howl of madness , tail flickin g steamin g drop s o f veno m ont o th e
pavemen t wher e sh e ran
, he r hai r streamin g behin d he r an d he r fac e distorte d i n
fear
. A
s sh e ra n past
, sh e dwindled
, becam e two-dimensiona l a s thoug h mad e o f paper
, a flutterin g tissu e whic h the n appeare d whol e onc e mor e a s
i t ra n awa y fro m the m dow n th e endles s street
.
The n th e paper y figur e turne d it s head
, stare d ove r it s ow n shoulder, neck folding oddly, pleating upon
itself. The figure swerved close to the wall across the street, opened its
mouth t o screa m onc e mor e an d collide d wit h th e wal l t o
han g there
, a pasted-up poster figure, mouth forever open, arms forever outstretched
, dres s foreve r twiste d an d hike d u p b y th e ac t o f
running. Mariann e heard her own voice crying and found her-
sel f hel d tigh t agains t Grassi'
s shoulde r a s h e patte d he r back
, murmuring
, "M
y dear
, m y dear
. Shh
. Shhh
. The y aren'
t real
.
Not in the way you suppose they are. Shh, now. Shh."
"It was Helen. Truly Helen."

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" I know
. I know, " h e said
. "Bu t yo u mus t no t giv e wa y lik e this. You must watch and learn
and understand. Otherwise, ho w ar e w e t o rescu e yo u fro m
anything
? Ho w ar e w e t o sen d wor d t o Macravail
? Com e now.
"
"How are we to rescue me? Gods, Mr. Grassi, how would
I know? And you don't seem to know any more than I! What is this hopeless
place we have come to? Why are we here?"
"My dear pretty lady, do think, do. This is no minor en-
chantment, no trifling play of an apprentice witch. This is an ensorcelment
majeur, a chief work! Oh, these false worlds cluste r abou t limb o thic k
a s grape s upo n a vine
, grea t pendulou s

masses of them upon the dry stick of the place we came from.
Oh, I grow eloquent! Each world a grape, each grape with a juic e an d flavo
r o f it s own
, individual
, unique
. Eac h worl d with its own laws, its own systems . Each a prison with its
own gate
. Eac h a doo r wit h it s ow n lock
. So
, so
, wha t d o w e d o until we know where the gate is? Where the lock is?
Ha? We sneak, we sly, we peer, we pry—think child, do! We appear as nothing,
negligible, not worth the notice of the powers of thi s place
. So
, wh o come s t o hel p you
? Ha
? Th e tinies t spy
, the weakest servant, the least noticeable familiar. Me. Cani
Grassi." He turned himself about for her inspection, making a pouting face and
wiggling his hips. "I brought no baggage, carried no sacks full of spells of
protection , no witch bags, not an amulet even! No, no, in this place we are
stronger the weaker they thin k we are. "
Mouth open, she stared at him, disbelieving these tumbled words, this babbling
nonsense. "Who sent you?" she asked, thinking it was a question she should
have asked hours ago.
"Macravail," he replied unhesitatingly. "The arch mage, Macravail."
"And who," she asked, "or what, is he?"
"A kinsman of yours, I think, pretty one. You do not re-
member him, but then, you do not remembe r much. One of the laws of this
place."
"Then how do you remember him?"
"Because I am not suffering a malign enchantment and you are. So. Let us think
together. You do not know who you are, and neither do I. If Macravail did not
send that information with me, we must believe it is for your protection, or
mine, or perhaps both. However, I do remember Macravail, and his words to me.
'Greendog, ' he said, 'send me word where I may fin d you.'"
"Greendog? What kind of a name is that?"
"My name," he said doubtfully , "or perhaps what he called me at the time. Who
knows?" More cheerfully, "Perhaps he made a joke. Whatever. We must figure out
a way to send him word."
He fell silent for a long time, so long it becam e uncom -
fortable and Marianne fidgeted, saying, "What else?"

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H e shoo k hi s head
. " I wa s thinkin g ther e i s ver y littl e else.
"

"Didn'
t thi s Macravai l giv e yo u instructions?
"
"To find you, Marianne. 'Find Marianne,' he said. The rest h e lef t t o m
y nativ e cunnin g an d natura l self-effacement.
"
She sighed. It was evident there was no quick, sweet-hot solution. There was
only tedium and talk, fear and what courage one could bring to it. So. If that
was the way it was, then that was the way it must be.
"Well, if you have nothing to tell me, I do have something to tell you," she
said and she told him about the peerers-in, th e stole n books
, th e burne d book
, th e visi t t o th e librar y o f th e woma n i n black
. " I don'
t kno w wha t i t al l means, " sh e confessed
, "wha t i t mean t whe n I pu t th e boo k ou t th e coa l chute.
Do you have any idea?"
H e nodded
, nodded
, chewin g hi s purse d lip s i n concentra
-
tion
. "Oh
, yes
, prett y lady
. Fo r everyon e i n thi s cit y ther e i s a book
. Ther e i s a boo k i n tha t plac e fo r you
, an d fo r me
, an d fo r Helen
, you r boss
, an d fo r everyone
. W
e ar e boun d t o ou r books
. An d whe n yo u pu t th e boo k outsid e an d i t wa s burned
, the n someon e escape d fro m thi s city
. Tha t i s wh y the y cheered
.
Bu t ther e wa s onl y one book
, onl y one
. Tha t i s wh y the y despaired. But listen, there is more.
"Here in the city, the Manticore. There in the library, books.
And as the Manticore chases our images onto the walls of the city
, I thin k th e book s gro w di m an d fade d an d w e gro w di m
an d thi n an d shadow y a s well
, unti l the y canno t b e rea d an y longer
. Wha t doe s on e d o wit h the m then?
"
"Wit h th e old
, fade d books
? The y ar e take n t o th e sub
-
basements and stacked there. Room after room of them. Huge, mountainou s pile
s o f them.
"
He nodded somberly . "And no chance then of escape. Only to fall into slow

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rot, to disappea r into dust over an eternity of storage." Sadly shaking his
head, sighing. "We will not con-
sider that. No. Before that time is near, we will have found a wa y t o sen
d fo r Macravail
, o r h e wil l hav e foun d a wa y t o us
.
Tha t i s wh y w e hav e ou r books
, o f course
, your s an d mine.
"
"W
e hav e them?
"
"Surely. You brought them. They are here. Was not your ow n stor y i n th e
book?
"
"Bu t ther e wer e thousand s o f others
, too
, mor e storie s tha n
I could count...."

"Well. Yes. Most of our books have others' stories in them, though we are
often unaware of that. It is no matter, pretty lady. You have your book and
you must read in it again , to fin d what we must do next."
"My story again?"
"I s i t no t you r stor y w e see k t o unravel
? You r story
, o f course."
S o sh e sa b y th t dow n awa y fro m th e windo w i n orde r no
t t o b e e distracte d e recurren t retur n o f th e Manticore
, b y th continuing flight of the paper figures, the miragelike wavering of
the street, to read her own story, beginnin g with "... She found herself
walking through a neighborhoo d where narrow-
fronted houses stared nearsightedl y at her over high stoops and scraps of
entryway relieved only by tattered yews..." and endin g wit h "I
s i t no t you r stor y w e see k t o unravel
? You r story, of course." It was all as familiar to her as ten minutes ago
. Eve n th e pictur e wa s o f he r i n he r brigh t scarf
, cap e aroun d he r shoulders
, clutchin g th e book s t o he r ches t a s sh e fle d pas t th e
corne r taxiderm y sho p wher e th e Manticor e rage d i n th e
window. "I shall read it again," she said in a tired voice, "and again, and
again."
She did not relish reading the story a dozen times, as she ha d ha d t o d
o before
, bu t sh e bega n withou t a murmu r whil e
Grass! brought her bread and cheese and tea. It did not take a s lon g thi s
tim e a s sh e ha d expected
.
"Here," she said to him. "I think this may be it: "That evenin g ther e wa s
a ta p o n th e window
, an d sh e looke d ou t half fearfull y to see a black, hunche d form
agains t the glass and knew it for that persistent follower who had come after
he r fro m th e library
. Th e watche r tappe d o n th e window...
.
Almost fearfull y she went to the windo w to see a messag e thrust against the
glass.
Not all who are here are Manticore meat! Will you join us?

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She wrote upon a napkin the word perhaps an d hel d i t t o th e pane
. Thi s seeme d t o satisf y him
, for he scribbled, I'll come back another time....'"
"Wha t d o yo u think?
" h e asked
. " A kin d o f underground
, perhaps?"
"Something like that."
"Against what? Who?"
Sh e shrugged
. "Agains t whoeve r run s things
, manage s th e

library, keeps the books. If someon e escaped—that' s the word you used—then
it means people are being kept here, impris-
oned here. And someone is opposed to it, some resistance movement."
"How effective , I wonder? "
"Wh o knows
? I t i s a t leas t something
. I'l l pu t a not e i n th e windo w of the restauran t whe n I get
back . Hele n won' t mind as long as it isn't conspicuous. "
"And I," he said, doing a little dance step on the carpet, twirlin g an d
bowin g t o himself
, " I mus t continu e th e minuet
, the slow danc e of findin g out. Bow , advance , bow, retreat .
Slow and easy, so they don't catch me."
"Whoeve r they are." She laughed , a weary laugh echoed from the street where
the Manticor e raged past as evenin g fell.
"Fin d ou t wh o tha t woma n i s wh o cam e t o th e library
, Mr
.
Grassi
. I f w e fin d ou t wh o sh e is , i t ma y tel l m e wh o I
am.
"
He shook his head at her, tongue protruding between his teeth
. " I won'
t spen d tim e doin g that
, prett y lady
. No
. I wil l d o wha t Macravai l tol d m e t o do—sen d hi m a
message
. H
e wil l com e lik e th e wind
, lik e a storm
, i f onl y w e ca n figur e ou t ho " I hop w t o tel yo l hi u
wil m wher e w e are....
"
e l b e abl e t o d o tha t soon, " sh e comforte d him
, privatel y thinkin g tha t i t sounde d n o les s ma d tha n any
-
thin g els e i n th e place
. "Bu t jus t i n cas e n o on e ca n sav e u s from outside, we must
try to figure out how to save ourselves."
When he reached to pat her shoulder, she patted his in return.
"It's all right. I'll be careful."
They watched together until the Manticore returned to its window and people
appeared on the streets once more, few an d furtive
, bu t movin g abou t nonetheless

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. The n sh e lef t hi m t o retur n t o he r work
, wonderin g a s th e win d ble w shar p bit s o f cinde r int o he
r eye s whethe r i t wa s trul y enchantmen t o r dream or a horrible
reality from which there would never be any escape.
Mak r Aveh l ha d bee n o n th e phon e fo r hal f a n hour
, speakin g firs t t o someon e callin g vi a satellite
, a n enigmati c conversatio n which involved much note-takin g and short,
monosyllabi c questions. The later calls were to the people he had sent to
Boston, and when he had finished them all he merely sat where

h e was
, starin g a t th e carpe t betwee n hi s feet
. Afte r twent y minutes of this, Ellat cleared her throat to attract his
attention.
They had spent two days in this sitting about . He had not left
Marianne'
s apartmen t eve n fo r a moment
.
"What word?" she asked.
"Harvey Zahmani is not in Boston. No one knows where he is. He did not announc
e his departure , whic h he usuall y doe s i f h e i s goin g o n som e
expedition
. Besides
, he'
s suppose d to be teaching, and he hasn't shown up since last week."
"So you think—"
"I thin k he wen t afte r her, afte r Marianne . Or, probably , sh e dre w
hi m int o th e worl d t o whic h sh e ha s gone
. Actually
, that'
s muc h mor e likely
. H
e woul d b e n o mor e abl e tha n I t o fin d her
, s o sh e mus t hav e draw n hi m in.
"
"Why
? Fearfu l o f hi m a s sh e was?
"
"Because when we are in our own dream worlds, we people them with others who
are importan t to us, whether we love or hate them. Her world would have
Harvey in it, because he tied himself to her in some way so that she could not
or would not simply dismis s him."
"But you are not tied to her? Not with her?"
"Oh, Ellat. I know it. I wasn' t importan t enoug h to her, though I much
longed to be."
"She liked you."
"Sh e like d mos t people
. Sh e like d Mrs
. Winesap
, down
-
stairs, and Mr. Larkin, and the people in the library. But they weren't
important to her. No. Likely they are not in her world either. But I have to
find a way to get there, wherever she is."
"If you go into her world , Makr Avehl , won' t it have to be in the form
which she assigns you? As she sees you or thinks of you? Are you prepared for
that?"
The face he turned to her was blank with surprise. He had obviousl y no t
though t o f it , o r ha d though t o f i t an d refuse d to consider

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it further. He started to shake his head impatiently, but she stopped him with
a gesture. "No. Makr Avehl. Think.
I twitted you down at Wanderly , twitted you with lecturing at the girl rather
than talking with her. If you had talked with her, you would not have risked
her life as it has been risked. I told her that such pontificatin g was your
way, and she said she didn't mind, that she found you interesting . So she is
good-

natured. We both know that. But you know nothing about her.
Suppose—oh , take an impossible example—suppos e she sees yo u a s som e
monster
? I f yo u follo w he r int o he r world
, i t wil l be as that monster. I know that's not possible, but...." Her
voice trailed away at seeing the expression on his face.
Makr Avehl was rememberin g Marianne's hand recoiling from his own, her face
knitted up in that expressio n of unwillin g revulsion. Ellat, seeing him
stricken, took his limp hands in her own. "Tell me. Did I hit upon an
unwelcome truth? Makr
Avehl, tell me! You need my help."
"You hit upon something, Sister. Something. I—I offered t o sta y wit h he
r Sunda y night
. I wa s afrai d o f he r bein g alone
.
I mean t nothin g a t al l improper
, nothin g lubricious
. I thought
, afte r all
, tha t sh e i s a n America n girl
, i n he r twenties
, no t som e adolescent daughter of Third World aristocrats who has had
virginity develope d into an art form. I offered to stay with her, meaning
nothing dishonorable , and she recoiled from me as though I had been a
serpent. She said something—wha t was it? Something about not being like that,
and then she muttered under her breath 'begone, burned, buried'—an invocation
or curse. I was so surprised I could say nothing. I apologized. I
left her. Zurvan knows how she sees me. If you had not re-
minde d m e o f tha t instance
, I woul d hav e though t sh e regarde d me well enough."
"It might not have been you at all," said Ellat comfortingly .
"It might have been a conditioned thing, her usual response to any thought of
intimacy. In which case, since we have met her brother, perhaps we can guess?
I can guess. You are perhaps too nice-minded. "
"Her half brother ? Do you mean that she— "
"I mean that he probably tried something with her when she was quite young,
and by 'quite young' I mean emotionally, not necessarily in years. She is
still 'quite young' in many ways.
It would explain much. It would explain her attitude toward your offer to stay
with her. You do look like him."
"Wha t d o yo u mean
, 'trie d something'
? D
o yo u mea n t o tell me that he tried to force her? Or did force her?"
"Possibly. It would explain many things about her. And, since he is the kind
of man he is, he probably followed the failure or success of his attempt with
an equally forceful attempt

t o mak e he r fee l responsibl e fo r it . Sh e i s carryin g som e
burde n regarding him, Makr Avehl, and I wish that Zurvan had prompted you to

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pay attentio n to her instead of to the impressio n you were making. "
"You're brutal, Ellat."
"Only occasionally, " she said with a fond embrace of his shoulders
. "Onl y whe n I a m distresse d beyon d measure
. Now
, what did the Kavi say?"
" I aske d the m t o rea d th e Cav e fo r me
, a s yo u know
. I aske d for three readings. Cyram did one, Nalavi did one, and the third
was by that youn g cousi n of Cyram's , the one with the scar y eyes...
"
"Therat. She doesn't have scary eyes. She's a bit intense."
"Sh e ha s eye s lik e a haw k protectin g it s nest
, read y t o tea r out your gizzard. Oh, God, Ellat, what difference what
kind o f eye s sh e has
? The y too k th e readings
. I aske d fo r guidanc e t o Marianne
. That'
s all
. Aghrehon d wil l b e helpin g al l h e can
, concentrating , fishing about and stirring up the waters. Well...."
"So. The message?"
"Books and what Cyram describes as
'a paper person.'
Nalavi saw a building, and a city.
The young one—"
"Therat."
"Thera t sa w a manticore.
Nothin g else
; jus t a manticore.
"
"I didn't know there was a manticore in the Cave."
"Neithe r di d anyon e else
. It'
s there
. Carve d i n th e sevent h or eighth century, Cyram thinks, near the
floor, half hidden behind a stalagmite . The light fell on it clean and clear,
Therat said, but he didn't believe her until he took a lantern in there and
looked for it. It wasn't even in the lectionary."
"Without the lectionary..."
"Anybody'
s guess
. N
o histor y o f lessons
. N
o previou s ci
-
tations. No precedents. Cyram says that the girl—"
"Therat," she said patiently.
"Therat
. Cyra m say s tha t sh e feel s i t mean s jus t wha t i t is .
A manticore
. Oh
, on e mor e thing
. Cyra m als o sa w a n onion.
"
H e laughe d withou t amusement
. "O
f course
, I hav e a lectionar y with me and I'll start by looking up the

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references that are in it."
"Makr," she said, eyes half shut as she stared at the street light glow
through the hazy curtains. "Makr. It makes me think

o f something
. Pape r people
, an d onions
. A
thin g sh e said
.
Wha t wa s it ? Shhh
, now
, le t m e think.
" An d sh e leane d he r head in her hands rocking to and fro while the
wind moved the branche s on the curtain , changin g their shadow pattern with
each flicker . "Somethin g she said about peelin g away.. . being peele d
away..
. abou t Harve y doin g tha t t o her—peelin g he r away..."
"Like a snake shedding its skin?" he whispered. "Papery skin, peeling away?
Like that?"
"Think, " sh e sai d i n a vagu e voice
. "O
f onions
, on e laye r inside another, inside another, all the way to the heart of it
and nothingness. She said Harvey made her feel that way. Flayed.
Skinned
. Perhap s a n onio n i s no t a ba d symbo l fo r that.
"
"Books?" he asked. "Books. A building. A city."
"Book s an d a building
. Sh e worke d i n a library
, Mak r Avehl
, you told me that yourself.
Think!
You don't know her well enough, that's all. You should have listened to her.
You should hav e stoppe d talkin g an d listene d t o her.
"
He knelt on the floor before her and bowed his head into her lap. "Beat me,
Ellat. Beat me as you did when I was five an d trie d t o drow n th e
whit e cat
. Bea t me
, bu t the n forgiv e m e and help me. I'm a beast, but forgive me."
She shook her head. "A library, Makr Avehl. People being peele d lik e
onions
. A
manticore
. A
manticor e i s a monster
.
That's all. Look in the lectionary, if you like, but it will not tel l yo u
mor e tha n that
. T o lear n mor e tha n that
, yo u mus t loo k at this place and listen to it as you did not listen to
her."
H e bega n t o wal k aroun d th e room
, layin g hi s hand s o n the walls, on the windowsills, on the satiny
surfaces of the refinishe d furniture
, o n th e shelves
, th e countertops

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, th e care
-
full y lai d tile
. H
e bega n t o breath e i n th e scen t o f th e place
, t o inhal e it , th e mixtur e o f lemo n oi l an d potpourr i an
d th e fragile smell of Mariann e herself , faintl y spicy, faintl y musky .
H e bega n t o se e th e colors
, eac h o n eac h an d together
, unti l h e kne w he r though t an d intentio n a s sh e ha d pu t
eac h thin g in its place, each brushstroke on each surface. He felt the
texture o f th e fabri c o n th e chairs
, th e dr y whisker y pus h o f i t int o hi s palm, like a cat's
face. He turned on the lamp, noticed the way the light lay on the wood, on the
paint, on the fabric. "She lay o n th e be d i n there, " h e whispered
. "Sh e sa w i t jus t lik e this
,

this corner." He went into the bedroom, lay down on the bed, turne d unti l
h e sa w i t a s h e kne w sh e ha d see n it , th e blanke t warm
and soft beneat h his cheek. Under the lampligh t the happy fro g h e ha d
brough t he r glowe d quietly
.
What kind of world would one like this carry in her soul?
What would its geography be, its climate and culture? He lay quietly
, lettin g wha t h e kne w o f he r posses s hi m unti l i t becam
e mor e rea l tha n himself
. Where
? Where
? Where
?
Ellat came to the door of the room. "Makr Avehl. Remem-
ber
, i n he r worl d yo u ma y no t hav e a for m o r presenc e whic
h wil l pleas e you
. Remember
, i t ma y no t b e o f he r ow n doing
.
I t ma y b e merel y somethin g ol d an d woundin g whic h wil l no
t let her see you as you are. "
"I know, Ellat," he said. "If anyone can be prepared, I am prepared. Wait here
for me."
"Oh, my dear," she said. "Of course I will wait for you."

"WHO AM I when I don't know who I am?" She was leanin g acros s a table
, tryin g t o pos t he r inconspicuou s notic e i n th e corner of the
coffee shop window, speaking partly to herself.
Hele n wa s behin d th e counter
, wipin g i t wit h a mois t clot h an d humming around the toothpick
between her teeth. She inter-
rupted the hum to make a short, interrogativ e snort and put her hand s o n
he r hips
. Mariann e go t th e notic e proppe d t o he r satisfaction
. I t said
, " I wis h t o mee t wit h thos e wh o sai d the y woul d return."
"
Helen thought this over. "Who are you? You're whoever yo u were
, excep t yo u don'

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t remembe r it.
"
"The n I can'
t b e wh o I was
. Memorie s ar e par t o f wh o a perso n is
, an d I don'
t hav e any
. Righ t now
, I remembe r th e library and getting out of it. That's almost all I am.
There's no one here to tell me whether I was good, or bad, or really evil.
I don'
t kno w whethe r I helpe d peopl e o r hur t them.
"
"You'r e prett y youn g to have done very muc h of either. "
"I' m ol d enoug h t o hav e started
. I don'
t kno w whethe r peopl e love d m e o r hate d me
. Or—no t really
. Excep t tha t

someon e hate d m e enoug h t o ge t ri d o f me.
"
Privately, Marianne felt that the answer to this question was not as important
as some superficial and conventional attitudes made it seem. In this sunless
place, with its walled horizon an d enclose d universe
, ther e wa s stil l regar d amon g th e inhab
-
itants for a kind of wary politeness, a conventional courtesy.
There was an accepted discrimination between good and evil, based largely upon
the Manticore as a defining limit of the one and opposition to him as the
expression of the other. In this place
, Mariann e wa s goo d becaus e sh e oppose d evil
. Wha t sh e might have been elsewhere, what sins she might have com-
mitted, could only be pale and irrelevant in this world, and it was only a
traditional concern which made her voice the ques-
tion—and of what tradition she would have been hard pressed to say.
"Someon e els e care s enoug h abou t yo u t o tr y an d com e afte
r you
. Yo u tol d m e abou t th e fellow
, th e on e wit h th e books.
"
"And that tells me that I wasn't completely... you know, neutral.
I didn't think I was neutral, anyhow. I don't look like a neutral person, do
I, Helen?"
Helen shook her head, almost smiling. Since Marianne had told her about Cani
Grassi and her narrow escape from the
Manticore, Helen seemed a little more trusting, more personal, les s shu t u
p withi n herself
. "Yo u don'
t loo k neutral
, girl
. Yo u loo k exactl y lik e som e o f th e peopl e i n th e plac e
I com e from
.
You could be a cousin to them."
"Wher e wa s that?
"
" I live d i n Alphenlicht
. Eve r hear d o f it?

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"
Mariann e fel t a tingle
, a tin y shoc k runnin g fro m ea r t o ea r across the top of her
head, a kind of sparkling behind the eyes, which came for an instant and was
gone.
"It's a tiny, old country," Helen went on. "Squeezed in at th e come r o f
som e bigger
, mor e importan t countries
, mountain s all around. A little backward, I guess you'd say. We had a
schoolteacher used to say that. 'A little backward in a nice way,' she'd say.
Lots of horses on the farms and little wagons in the streets. Only a few cars,
and those only to take the high-
ups away when they neede d to fly somewher e or buy somethin g w e didn'
t have
. A
slo w littl e country
, slo w an d peaceful
. Neve r wa s an y wa r i n Alphenlich t a s lon g a s anyon e coul
d remember
.

Som e sai d w e wer e to o little
. Other s sai d i t wa s becaus e o f th e
Cave of Light."
"Th e Cav e o f Light?
" A
tingle
, wanning
, warning
.
"In the Holy Mountain , righ t in the middl e of the country .
See
, ther e wa s thi s mountain
, lik e a bi g sponge
, al l ful l o f hole s an d tunnels
, littl e one s an d bi g ones
, an d al l th e hole s line d wit h thi s shin y glass-rock
, wha t d o yo u cal l it ? Eisen
—
what?"
"Isinglass
? Yo u mea n mica?
"
"Tha t stuff
. Yes
. Well
, al l thes e hole s g o dow n int o th e mountai n int o a cav e
there
. A
bi g cave
. Roun d lik e a melon
.
Flat floor. Pillars of stone and all these little holes reflecting ligh t dow
n int o it
. Well
, bac k whe n th e Kav i firs t cam e .t o
Alphenlicht
, the y bega n t o mak e carving s an d drawing s i n th e cave.
After a few hundred years, the whole cave was covered wit h carvings

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, al l ove r th e inside.
"
"What kind of carvings? People? Gods? What?"
"Everything. Trees, animals, flowers, people, books, words—everythin g yo u
ca n imagin e an d a fe w yo u can't
. So
, peopl e ha d notice d tha t th e ligh t come s dow n throug h th e
moun
-
tain
, dow n al l thos e funn y shin y tube s an d holes
, an d fall s o n some of the carvings. Not much to that, hmm? Well,
somebody ha d notice d tha t th e ligh t neve r seeme d t o fal l th
e sam e wa y twice
. Sa y yo u g o i n ther e toda y a t sunrise
, an d th e ligh t fall s on e plac e o n th e carvin g o f a tre e
an d anothe r plac e o n a n ol d ma n eatin g a rabbit
. The n somebod y els e come s i n midmorning
, and the light falls on a picture of a boat and the word sthran-
dunas.
And at noon something else, and midafternoon some-
thing else, and tomorrow morning something else again."
"But it would have to be the same sometimes . Say, every
14th of June at six a.m."
"It isn't," said Helen triumphantly. "They kept records, and it isn't. Never
the same way twice. They finally figured out it was because of the way the
trees grow on the mountain, or the dee r graze
, o r th e hunter s move
, o r whatever
. N
o tw o peopl e eve r se e th e ligh t th e same
. N
o on e perso n eve r see s i t th e same twice. Just like fingerprints ,
all different.... "
"Well
, the n i t didn'
t tak e lon g fo r peopl e t o decid e i t wa s like a kind of oracle.
You have a problem, you go into the
Cave and see where the light falls, and that makes a message

fo r you
. I f yo u can'
t figur e i t out
, the n ther e ar e Kav i ther e who figure it out for you. They even
have a book telling what all the signs and carvings mean."
"Lik realizin e a n oracle, g sh
" muse d Marianne
, "th e oracl e o f Delphi, "
no t e ha d n o ide a wha t "Delphi
" meant
.
"Some call it that," said Helen. "Some call it the oracle cave. There are
those who say that's why we never had a war, because the Cave showed us how to
keep our borders closed.
There must have been something to that, coo, come to think of it." She fell
silent, thinking.
"Why was that, Helen?"
"Oh, it was something my husband, David, said once about people from the
neighboring country trying to get in. He was a border guard, my David, when he

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was younger."
"Tell me about him, about you. How did you get here?"
The large woman stared out the window, ticking the tooth-
pick between her teeth, a little tapping, like woodbeetle or some kind of
infinitesimal code transmission. For a time Mari-
anne thought she would not answer, but at last she said, "Well, why not?
"W
e live d nea r th e Prim e Minister'
s house
, no t hi s tow n house, you know, for when the Council met, but his
country house, the Residence. David kept the grounds at the place, him and two
or three young fellows and a couple of women in the kitche n garden
. Didn'
t lik e th e inside s o f places
, Davi d didn't
.
Liked the sun in his face and getting his hands dirty. Well, we got along well
enough. Never had any children, which was sad for us, but otherwise it was a
good life. Come one spring, David was doing some cutting along the drive, and
around noon I took him his lunch. I remember walking down the road.
There were birds singing, and the grass was smelling the way it does, fresh.
The house was shining up on its hill, walls all silver rose in the sun. Well,
I saw this big, black car come down the hill from the Residence , raising up
dust, and I knew i t wa s her."
Silence stretched, Helen's eyes fixed on something distant in time and place,
voice fallen into a murmur. Marianne waited fo r a time
, the n nudge d int o th e quiet
. "Wh o wa s she
, Helen?
"
"Ah. Who? Oh, her. Well, she was some nobility or other.
From Lubovosk. It was a country over the mountain used to

b e par t o f u s bu t separate d of f a lon g tim e ago
. That'
s th e onl y time we ever talked war in Alphenlicht , when Lubovosk was
mentioned
. Ou r teache r calle d i t a plac e o f som e unkindness
, I remember . This woman was there, come to try and marry herself off to our
Prime Minister. We called her the Black
Countes s becaus e sh e alway s wor e black
, an d sh e ha d thi s nephew came with her. We called him Prince Teeth
because h e wa s alway s behin d he r wit h hi s teet h showin g lik
e a do g about to bite, pretty much of an age with her, too....
"Well, this car comes down the hill and into the woods. I
hear d i t coming
, th e roa r o f i t alon g th e roa d lik e som e anima l growling
among the trees. Then it stopped. I came round a corne wher r an he'
d sa w Davi it . H
d ha wa d a littl e tre g an e dow n acros s th s ha e roa t bri d
e d cu t e s bowin d tuggin g hi m and saying he'd have it out of the way
in a moment, real polite.
H e wa "Yes, s alway s polite
, David....
"
" whispere d Marianne
. "Wha t happened?
"
"Well, she came out from that car, Prince Teeth right behind her, eyes

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glittering like a wolf in torchlight , and she pointed a finge r a t David
, on e han d pointin g an d th e othe r han d u p i n th e ai r
twistin g an d twistin g lik e somebod y openin g a grea t spigot of
something, and she cries, 'Who delays me, I delay.
Wh o hold s me
, I hol d forever
. Fool
, begone!
' Suddenly
, Da
-
vid's gone, there's nothing there, and I scream, and she turns o n m e wit h
tha t han d stil l ou t an d th e othe r twistin g an d twist
-
ing
, an d sh e smiles—oh
, i t wa s a crue l smile—an d says
, 'An d you to some other place, slut?' Well, I was quiet. I fell down wit h
m y fac e i n th e dir t an d I wa s quiet
. I hear d th e ca r g o o n its way, out to the main road and away
north. It was her saying
'some other place' made me quiet. Wherever David went, that's wher e I woul
d g o t o fin d him
, no t som e othe r place.
"
"Find him? Where? How?"
"Com e nightfall
, I wen t u p t o th e hous e an d aske d t o se e the Prime
Minister, Archmage Makr Avehl. All the people in the house were relatives of
mine. They let me in to see him."
"Macravail
! I kno w tha t name
. Car d Grass i tol d m e tha t name!"
"Ah. Well, then, maybe you're another she's sent here. Like my David. Not a
follower, like me."

"I don't understand what you mean, follower?"
"I told the Archmag e what had happened . Hard-face d he was, sitting there by
the fire, and I knew that woma n from
Lubovosk had made him terribly angry. I told him what had happened, what David
did and said, what she did, and the motion s sh e mad e an d th e thing s
sh e said
, an d h e tol d m e h e couldn't get David out without risking the land
and all its people, but he could send me in after him, into the false worlds.
And if I found David, I could be strong with him until the time
Makr Avehl could get us all out. So I followed David in here."
"How long? How long has it been?"
"How can you measure how long? Long enough for me to take over this place,
long enough to find David, long enough fo r th e tw o o f u s t o kno w
ther e aren'
t an y tree s here
, aren'
t an y mountains
, t o kno w there'
s onl y thi s cit y an d th e Manticore
.
Th e damne d Manticore.
"
"So you did find him?"

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"Oh, yes. I found him. For all the good that was." She fell silen t fo r a
lon g time
, chewin g he r lips
, wipin g th e counte r i n an endless circle. "He didn't know me, you
see. Didn't re-
membe r me
. Wasn'
t interested
. That'
s on e thin g abou t thi s place
, yo u know
. There'
s n o lov e here
. N
o desire
. Everythin g muted and put down of that kind. I've thought about it many a
night, lying in my room, knowing he was just down the hall i n anothe r room
, no t caring
. No t tha t I car e either
, much
, bu t
1 can remember caring. He can't even remember that."
Marianne was instantly uncomfortabl e with this line of thought. She did not
want to think of caring, not in the way
Helen meant it, though she knew well enough what Helen meant. Caring was like
trees and mountains, something she kne w of
, ha d know n of
, whic h di d no t exis t i n thi s worl d eve n thoug h sh e
believe d tha t somewher e suc h thing s existed
. Sh e change d th e subject
. "Wha t doe s Davi d do?
"
"H
e plots
, girl
. H
e plot s an d sneak s about
. Eve r sinc e I tol d hi m abou t her, h e follow s her wheneve r sh e
come s here
. Oh
, sh e come s here
, i n tha t sam e long
, blac k car
. I'v e see n he r goin g int o th e library.
"
"Madame Delubovoska? Her?"
Helen put a finger to her lips, shook her head in a tiny

tremor
, sid e t o side
, th e gestur e sayin g b e stil l abou t it , sill y girl, don't say
names. "When he isn't following her, he's plot-
ting to kill the Manticore."
"Helen , will you come with me when I go to see my frien d nex t time
? Th e on e wh o live s o n Manticor e Street?
"
Hele n shuddered
. "I'
d a s soo n not

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. Bette r sta y a s fa r fro m the Manticore as possible."
" I wa s there
. I t didn'
t hur t me.
"
"You stay here long enough, you'll see yourself out there bein g chase d b y
th e Manticore
. Picture s o f you
. Flicker y thing s that look just like you. Like your skin peeled off you,
layer o n layer
, you r ski n an d you r soul
. I'v e see n them
, bi g pape r cut-outs of me, running and screaming and running, and ending
u p stuc k u p o n th e wall s o f th e city
, everywhere
. Afte r a while
, every place you look, there you are, stuck to the walls, bits an d shred s
o f yo u peele d awa y t o hol d u p th e wall s a s thoug h th e
wall s wer e mad e o f people
. I ca n fee l i t a t night
, fee l th e ski n comin g of f m e i n th e dark
, tin y bi t b y tin y bit
, aroun d m e lik e a shroud
, the n floatin g of f t o han g i n th e shadow s runnin s unti g
an l d th e Manticor e walks
. An d w e se e ourselve screaming , and that reminds us to be afraid
again."
Mariann e di d no t reply
, bu t sh e carrie d th e though t wit h he r through the day. "Is that
all any of us are?" she wondered.
"Par t o f th e fabri c o f whateve r plac e w e ar e in
, whateve r tim e we are in, a brick, a stone, a carved piece at the top of
some pedestal
? I s i t w e o r th e plac e whic h ha s urgenc y an d impor
-
tance
? An d i f i t i s th e plac e whic h ha s importance
, wh y d o w e resis t i t so
? Runnin g an d screamin g an d hatin g th e bit s o f u s whic Ar h
ar e dwindle e blow n abou thereby?
t an d los t upo n th e wall s o f th e world
?
e w d
" Hele n di d no t loo k dwindled
, bu t sh e ha d a n ai r o f havin g retreate d t o som e las t
redoub t withi n herself from which she peered out upon the world , weary but
indomitable .
At noon, which was simply midwa y throug h the lighted perio d i n thi s
sunles s place
, Mariann e fel t someon e watchin g her, turne d from her pan washin g to
find a dark , bulk y man staring from a corner table through the kitchen hatch
at her and kne he r lif w a t onc e tha t thi s wa s on e o f th e
peerer s wh o ha d mad e e s o miserabl e whe n sh e ha d bee n i n
th e library
. Sh e

went back to her work with the uneasy feeling that his eyes remaine d fixe d
upo n her
.

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Hele n whispered
, "Marianne
, tha t ma n watchin g yo u i s m y
David
. I t mus t b e becaus e o f tha t not e i n th e window.
" The n she went back to ladling stew and butterin g bread, watchin g th e
ma n wit h suc h ill-conceale d longin g tha t Mariann e fel t guil t
fo r havin g brough t hi m there
. H
e wa s a bi g man
, wit h a stron g face and gray-streake d moustache , and his face was full
of angry purpose.
Whe n h e ha d finishe d hi s meal
, h e cam e b y th e hatc h an d droppe d a folde d piec e o f pape
r throug h it . Mariann e pu t th e pape r t o on e sid e an d kep t
o n wit h th e washing
. Sh e ha d wante d this contact, had planned for it, and yet was now
uncertain that sh e coul d dea l wit h thi s man'
s need s an d purposes
, possibl y very differen t from her own. It was only after the customer s
had gone and the two of them had the place to themselves that sh e drie d he
r hand s an d unfolde d th e paper
, readin g i t befor e she handed it to Helen, who had not tried to
disguise her interest.
If you want to join us, come-to the church tonight, when the bells ring.
Marianne regarded this thoughtfully . The dolorous ringing of the bells did
not normally begin until late, after most cus-
tomers had left the restaurant , sometime s not until after Helen herself had
gone, after the evening rain had fallen, at the time the Greasy Girls were
parading and others avoided the walks.
"You don't mind?" she said. "I really want to find out...."
Helen shrugged . "I'll come with you. We'll both find out."
The y close d th e restauran t an d wen t dow n th e bus y stree t
while there was still light in the sky, guiding themselve s by the signal
tower. There was in the center of the town a tower, tall onl y i n
relationshi p t o th e squatt y building s whic h surrounde d it , fo r
i t ha d n o gracefu l heigh t t o commen d i t a s a buildin g o f
interes t o r aestheti c value
. I t wa s simpl y slightl y talle r tha n other buildings, and if one
scanned the circumference of the city, one might become aware that it was the
highest point within that place, not by much, but by the smallest increment
whic h woul d allo w i t t o surmoun t al l othe r roofs
. Th e conica l roof of this tower was tiled in red so that it appeared as
an

inflamed carbuncle upon the horizon of the city. The place was called by
everyone throughout the city the signal tower. Who signale d from it, or when
, or for what purpos e was never mentioned . The church crouched near it, half
in its shadow.
They hid themselves behind the thick pillars of the church porc h t o awai t
th e comin g o f darkness
. Whil e i t wa s stil l dusk
, the Greasy Girls began to come out of their houses, heads shave d clean
, bodie s almos t naked
, al l ski n surface s annointe d with some ointmen t which made them
shine in the shadow s like slime-wet frogs. A few started walking down the
street, were joined by others, then still others, no sound accompanying them
but the shuffl e of their feet. Whe n some fifty of (hem ha d assembled
, the y marche d u p th e churc h step s an d int o th e building.

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Helen and Marianne slipped around the corner of the porc h t o avoi d them
, an d entere d th e churc h fro m a n unli t sid e door. They were
oppressed by an unfamiliar smell which aroused a kin d o f quasi-memor y
whic h bot h o f the m fel t the y shoul d b e abl e t o identify
. Th e musi c oozin g fro m th e plac e wa s deadl y solemn
, almos t lugubrious
, an d th e congregatio n bathe d i n thi s watery sound with expression
s of drowned lassitude. Other than the Greasy Girls there were only a dozen or
so people scattered individuall y amon g th e massiv e ston e benches
. Davi d gesture d to them from behind a pillar, and they came to sit in
front of him while the sad music went on and on and the hierarch sat drowsing
in his high chair on the podium. David leaned forward as though to say
something just as the music trailed away into inconsequent stillness and the
hierarch began to speak.
"Tomorrow we will walk with the Manticore once more.
Rejoice to walk with the Manticore, for it is the Manticore who saves us from
the horrible librarians. In that dread library our books are kept, and we know
that others may read our lives, take us into their power.... If it were not
for the Manticore, we would have no future except to live upon those shelves
forever. But the Manticore peels us away, layer by layer, places us upon the
walls of the city where we may become part of the city itself, strong as its
walls, eternal as its stones. As we ar e peele d awa y b y th e Manticore
, ou r book s di m an d fade
, and we pass out of the power of the librarians and into the light
. Oh
, rejoic e t o wal k wit h th e Manticore—rejoic e an d sing."

Th e singin g bega n again
, awfu l music
, dee p a s a n ocea n an d a s black
, lightles s a s th e terribl e depth s o f th e sea
. A curtai n a t th e bac k o f th e podiu m swaye d briefl y i n
som e erran t gus t of air, and Mariann e caught a glimpse of the singers
behind it, women
, nake d an d oiled
, shave d an d shining
, singin g i n hard
, hornlik e voice s wit h onl y thei r flabb y dug s testifyin g t o
fe
-
maleness.
David whispered , "Follow me when we go out," which after a time they did,
waiting until the procession of Greasy Girls ha d departe d an d the n
trailin g hi m a s h e le d the m dow n dar k side streets and into an
area of high, blank-face d warehouse s with railway sidings where little red
lights gleame d like hungry eye s an d a floodlam p blare d threa t
agains t a wal l aliv e wit h hunte d figures , swarmin g with fearfu l
faces and pleadin g hands .
He took them into an alleyway , through a hidden door at the base of some
black, featureless building. They heard voices befor e the y cam e int o
th e room
, a roo m whic h reminde d Mari
-
ann e o f th e sub-basemen t room s o f th e library
, hal f ful l o f discarde d junk
, th e othe r half-fille d b y th e doze n peopl e sittin g around an
old table. Mariann e had only a momen t to hear the voice s befor e sh e wa
s grabbe d b y hars h hand s an d thrus t vi
-

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olentl y agains t a wall
.
"I took them to church," David said to the assembly. "There's just the two of
them. Nobod y followe d them. This one is Helen .
She says she was married to me once. The other one is the one from the
library. "
"Le t g o o f me, library
" Mariann e snarled
, almos t weeping
. " I a m no t fro m th e
. M
y nam e i s Marianne
, an d I' m no t fro m the library." Two of the conspirators had risen to
take Helen's arms, keepin g her from interfering . Helen wrestle d with them
angrily , but they held her fast.
"I s tha t so?
" aske d a white-haire d ma n wit h a bear d dow n to his belly, wild
eyes under tufts of spiky brows staring at her.
"W
e kno w tha t n o on e come s from there
. An d ye t ther e ar e always people there, and you are the only one who
has ever escaped."
"Don't be silly," she hissed. "People left there every night."
A hard, leaden anger was forming inside her, spinning like a flywheel .
"Really
? Di d yo u hav e th e impressio n tha t other s o f th e

librar y staff left there at night? "
"They went home at night," she said. "Of course they did."
"Ah
. Yo u sa y the y wen t hom e a t night
. Thos e o f u s outsid e neve r sa w anyon e leave
, di d yo u kne w that?
"
"But I was always alone at night. Absolutely alone!"
"And yet no one left. Believe me, that is true. Though, to len d credenc e t
o wha t yo u say
, i t i s als o tru e tha t yo u wer e th e only one we could see at
night, thoug h we could see others from time to time in the day. Interesting .
Did you know that sinc tha e yo u hav e come
, th e Manticor e walk s mor e frequentl y n before?
"
"I—I didn't know. I'm sure it has nothing to do with me...."
A s sh e sai d this
, sh e kne w i t wa s no t true
, an d th e heav y wh o within spun a little faster.
"That is unlikely. Before you came to the library, the Man-
ticore walked one day in ten....
"One day in ten. We considered it a kind of measure of the malignity of the
place, not decently hidden under a cloak of sicknes s o r a rob e o f age
, bu t ourselves
, peelin g awa y laye r b y layer
, visibl e o n ever y side
, confronte d a t ever y turning
, our own eyes peerin g at us from the walls , our own mouth s pleading with
us, our own arms flung out to evoke our pity.
What was malign about the city, we thought, is that the Man-
ticore walked one day in ten, a beastly decimator, herding befor e hi m ou r
ow n mortality

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.
"Well
, ther e ar e those—i n thi s room—wh o wil l no t bea r it, who will
trap the Manticore and kill him rather than be torn off in this fashion, sheet
by sheet, as a calendar is torn. We had begun to make plans....
"Bu t sinc e yo u hav e come
, th e Manticor e walk s mor e often
.
He walks one day in seven, one day in five. Soon, perhaps, ever y day?
"
"Ar e yo u askin g me?
" He r voic e tremble d wit h threat
.
"No. I am telling you. Explaining why we sought you out.
Sinc e yo u came
, th e fur y o f th e plac e i s doubled
, an d w e deman d t o kno w why.
"
"W
e wil l kno w why, " shrille d a tall
, cloud-haire d woma n who struck the table with her fist, raising a cloud
of dust. "We wil l kno w why
. W
e sa w yo u outsid e th e Manticore'
s window
.

We saw you looking at it long, eye to eye. We believe you know the Manticore!
We believe you know who, or what, he is, and how he may be conquered. We
believe you are some ki n o f his!"
Within her the wheel sped once again, making a hum which fille d he r blood
, se t i t singing
. "Ho w woul d I kno w th e Man
-
ticore's name? Why would it be kin of mine?"
They looked uncertainly at one another, confused by her tone. Though they held
her against the wall, she blazed at them from among their constraining arms.
They could only repeat themselves.
"We believe you know the Manticore, know what it is, who it is. How, or why,
or when—those are not important questions.
You looked at the Manticore as though you recognized him, as though you knew
his name."
"I do not know its name. I don't know anything about this place. I have no
memory of what I was before. If you are doing somethin g to get away, I will
help you or go with you, but if yo u g o o n askin g m e question s lik
e this
, I can'
t hel p you.
"
She felt hot, a^-ry tears, swallowed them, let herself snarl.
"Wh y a m I here
? Wh y ar e yo u here?
"
The white-bearded one nodded, almost in satisfaction. "You have seen the
Greasy Girls. They walk where the Manticore walks. Bald, shaven, naked, lean
as leather, oiled to a brighter gloss than finished marble, walking and
chanting before the
Manticore, worshiping the Manticore. The Manticore laughs at them, kills one
occasionally, lets them march and posture as they will. We are their

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antithesis . We will not accept, will not resign ourselves, will not permit,
will not believe. We will resist! We will find a way to get into the library
and bum it.
W e wil l fin d a wa y t o kil l th e Manticore
. W
e wil l fin d a wa y out of here.
"And we will make you help us, one way or another. We don't believe you when
you tell us you do not know the Man-
ticore—though you may not realize that you lie to us. Still, this is enough
for tonight. Tomorrow, the Manticore walks.
Soon after that, we will meet again." They let go of her and turned away, and
Helen took her arm, perhaps in comfort, perhaps for comfort.

David took them out of the place, the silence behind them breakin g int o
confuse d expostulatio n a s the y wen t throug h th e door into the
night. Helen angrily rubbed her arms where she had been held. "Damn it, David,
" she snarled . "That was a rotten thing to do."
He nibbed his wrist across his moustache , face as hard and determine d as it
had been since they had seen him at noon. "If we were once married, woman, we
were, then you would if forgive me, knowing that what I do is necessary. If we
were not
, the n i t i s o f n o concer n o f min e wha t yo u thin k o f
me
.
You may have resigned yourself to this place. I have not. What the Leader said
is true. We will kill the Manticore or die, but w e wil l no t merel y liv
e her e t o se e ou r soul s paste d upo n th e walls of this
place...."
He left them wit h that , wit h no farewell , withou t a wav e of hand or a
gesture, and Helen began to cry silently, tears running dow n he r stron g
fac e withou t a sound
. "We'r e goin g t o Mr
.
Grassi's place," Marianne said. "He has a book I have to use."
Helen
, bus y wipin g he r eyes
, di d no t answer
, bu t neithe r did she object. Though it took them some time to find where
they were and determine in which direction Manticore Street would be found,
Helen said nothing in all that time.
In the second floor apartment, Mr. Grassi was unsurprised at their arrival.
Marianne went directly to the shelf where her book, To Hold Forever, was
found.
"Oh, my dear pretty lady," said Grassi. "Are you looking for more answers to
other questions yet?"
"On e questio n only, " sh e sai d briefly
. "Whic h w e shoul d have asked when I was here last, Mr. Grassi. We
should not have waited , shoul d not have delayed . We shoul d have asked the
book then how to send the message you wondered about.
How do we call for help, Mr. Grassi? We must know, for this las t da y ha s
convince d m e w e mus t hav e hel p o r b e her e for
-
ever."
She let Helen tell him what had occurre d as she sat down with the heavy book
in her lap. Mariann e paid no attention .
She had begun to read at the place in the story which began with Grassi's
question, "What do you think? A kind of under-
ground, perhaps? " and went on through that day and the day

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following to the present time. She read broodingly, with deep attention,
undistracted by the movements about her or the smell o f th e foo d the y
wer e preparing
. Outsid e th e window s darknes s rested upon the city and only the sound
of mysteriou s cars moving through distant streets came through the window .
She read and read, finally placing her hand upon the page and reading aloud.
""The y close e wa d th e restauran t an sky d wen , guidin t dow n
th e bus y stree t whil e ther s stil l ligh t i n th e g themselve s
b y th e signal tower. There was in the center of the town a tower....
It was simply slightly taller than the things around it, and if on e scanne d
th e circumferenc e o f th e city
, on e migh t becom e aware that it was the highest point within that
place.... The conica l roo f o f thi s towe r wa s tile d i n re d s
o tha t i t appeare d as an inflame d carbuncl e upon the horizon of the
city. The place was called by everyone throughout the city the signal tower.
Who signaled from it, or when, or for what purpose was never mentioned.'"
She thumped the book with her hand. "There is a signal tower, Mr. Grass!. A
place to signal from or why else is it called by that name? So, let us signal
from it."
"My dear ladies—now? In the dark? When dawn may come at any time and with it
the Manticore? Oh, surely another time, a better time...."
The wheel within her hummed, a rising pitch of fury. "Mr.
Grassi. You are fluttering, and it is unlike you. Think of your native
cunning. Think of your natural guile. Think how clever we are, Mr. Grassi, and
let us go. Who knows what another day in this place may do to us? I will not
wait to be used by those plotters; I will not wait to be eaten by Madame; I
will no t wai t t o b e pursue d b y th e Manticore
. Sta y o r g o wit h us
, Mr
. Grassi
, bu t w e wil l go
, won'
t w e Helen?
"
The woman nodded over her pot of broth, trying to straighten the kitcheny
clutter with one hand even as she reached for her coat with the other.
"Oh, leave it," said Grassi, impatiently . "Leave it. Who knows. We may never
see it again."
They went out into the silent streets, still wet from the dusk rain, lit by an
occasional lamp into uncertain pools of visibility

whic h the y swa m betwee n i n th e we t light
, workin g thei r wa y back toward the church from which their evening' s
peregri-
nations had begun.
" I hea r fee t behin d us, " sai d Helen
, almos t whispering
.
"Following us."
"Probabl e o f th e others y David, " sai n o attention d Mariann e i
n a definit O f cours e tone e the
. "O wil r l on
. Pa y
, Helen
.
y follow us. Let them. Anyone who helps us helps them, though the y ma y no
t kno w it.
"

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" I hea r car s moving.
"
"They always move at night," said Marianne. "When I was in the library, I used
to listen to them at night, wonderin g where the y cam e from
, wher e the y wer e going
. I hav e neve r see n them in the daytim e at all, but at night they come
out after the rain
, t o mak e tha t wet
, swishin g soun d throughou t th e night
.
Perhaps the rain brings them, like frogs. Perhaps they bring the rain and
cannot move when the streets are dry. Pay no attention."
"There are bells ringing."
"The y ar e ringin g th e bell s i n th e church
. Sometime s the y d o tha t a t night
. Whoeve r doe s i t make s a ver attention y sof t sound
, though
, no t clamorou s a s i n th e day
. Pa y n o
, Helen
.
It will help guide us where we are going."
And, indeed, the soft ringing of the bells did guide them through the wet
streets while behind them in the city the sounds of cars and footsteps
increased as though a skulking assembly gathered elsewhere and increased with
each moment. They cam e a t las t t o th e church
, passe d befor e it s bulbou s pillars
, and stood at the foot of the signal tower. In the church there wa wave s
singing
, sa d a s tears
; th e soun d lappe d the m i n anguishe d s wher e the y stood
.
"I know," said Helen. "I will pay no attention to it."
Marianne smiled. Had she seen it, Helen would have been surprise d a t th e
col d efficienc y o f tha t smile
.
The stairs wound up the outside of the tower for at least hal f it s heigh t
the n entere d throug h a n arche d openin g int o a lightless
interior. From where they stood the heavy tower roof lowered down at them like
brows over the shadowe d eye holes of the high arcade. Mariann e set her foot
upon the step and the singing behind her grew in intensity even as the bells
began

ringin g mor e loudly
. Resolutely
, sh e ignore d thi s an d wen t on
, Hele b y momen n an d Mr
. Grass i behin d her
, th e soun d growin g momen t e t int o a cacophony
, a tumult
, th e swishin g o f th car s an d th e trea d o f man y fee t
underlayin g othe r sound s wit h a constan t susurru s a s the y
climbed
. Fa r awa y sh e though t sh e heard the crash of breaking glass and she
turned to see the expressio n o f surpris e an d fea r o n bot h face s
behin d her
. "W
e woul d probabl y no t b e abl e t o hea r th e Manticore'
s windo w breaking from here," she said. "Pay no attention."

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The y wer e no t lon g i n doubt
, fo r th e nex t soun d the y hear d was the unmistakable roar of the
Manticore, far off yet infinitely ominous. They hurried up the steps, curling
around the squatty tower once, twice, three times widdershins. Before them the
arched opening into darkness gaped like a mouth, and they stopped as if by
common consent before entering it. Below them 011 the street, things gathered,
vision swam, and a file of
Greasy Girls began to assemble at the corner. There were bulky shadows at the
base of the tower, and Marianne saw one or two of them start up the tower
stair. "David is there," she told
Helen
. "Wit h others
. I t seem s w e ar e togethe r i n this
, whethe r or no."
They hesitated at the dark opening. There was no door, no sig n tha t ther e
ha d eve r bee n a door
, an d ye t th e impressio n of a definite barrier within that opening was
clear to each of them
. "Shal l w e ris k wha t wait s within?
" aske d Marianne
. "O
r do you think we only imagine it?"
"Somethin g there, " sai d Helen
.
Grassi nodded, put out a hand to feel of the darkness as thoug h h e measure
d velve t fo r a robe
. "Yes, " h e said
, "some
-
thin g there
, an d ye t I d o no t thin k i t menace s us.
"
"Then we gain nothing by standing," said Marianne, push-
ing her way through the opening and into the tower. There was no light inside,
and they fumbled their way around the stone wall s unti l the y encountere
d th e stair s onc e mor e an d coul d fumbl e thei r wa y u p tha t
twisting
, railles s flight
. Graduall y their eyes became used to the darkness, became accustomed t o
th e velve t shadow
, an d the y sa w draperie s a s o f mis t agains t the dark. Faces of
smoke. Hands which reached foggy fingers toward them. Voices of vapor.
Marianne stopped climbing, sat down with her back against the wall and her
hands held before

he r t o war n awa y whateve r i t wa s whic h shifte d an d swa m
a t th e edge s o f he r sight
.
"Ghosts....
" whispere d Helen
.
"Peeled ones," corrected Grassi in an awed tone. "Those who m th e Manticor
e ha s chase d t o th e edge s o f oblivion.
"
A sigh ran among the shifting shapes. Marianne could see the m mor e clearl
y now
, form s o f virtua l transparenc y throug h which one might see the
ghostly hearts beating slowly, the pulsing blood coursing through pale veins,
translucent orbs of eye s starin g a t the m throug h th e darkness

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. Eve n a s sh e watched
, one of the figures threw up its gray arms and opened its mouth i n a long
, silen t screa m whic h echoe d dow n th e towe r i n a singl e
puls e o f agony
, the n cam e apar t int o shred s befor e he r eyes, fading into the
gloom, into nothingness . Around this disappeare d on e wa s a n agitatio
n o f ghosts
, a turmoi l o f spirit s an d a soundles s wailin g whic h bi t a t
the m lik e th e shrie k o f unoiled hinges on old vaults.
The anger within Marianne deepened, began to sing. "There i s nothin g w e
ca n d o fo r them, " sh e sai d t o th e others
, beginnin g t o clim b onc e more
. "W
e sav e the m i f w e sav e ourselves
.
Otherwise
, ther e i s nothin g fo r the m o r fo r us
. Come
, quickly
.
The Manticore is hunting through the streets."
Thoug h th e towe r ha d no t looke d ver y tal l fro m th e street
, fro m withi n i t seeme d t o exten d endlessl y upward
, an d the y turne d aroun d an d aroun d a s the y climbed
, stil l widdershins
, the world beginning to spin beneath them. At last they reached a fla t
platfor m an d fel t a ladde r upo n th e wall
. A
t th e to p o f the ladder was a trapdoor, and it opened at their combined
strengt h t o le t the m ou t int o th e roo m a t th e to p o f
th e tower
.
Th e roo m wa s strew n wit h rubbish
, wit h broke n pictur e frame s and trash and blown leaves from trees
which had never existed i n thi s place
. I n th e cente r o f th e roo m wa s a fireplac e withou t a
chimney
, simpl y a raise d platfor m mad e u p o f larg e stone s cemente d
together
. Mariann e di d no t wait
. Sh e bega n scav
-
engin g immediatel y amon g th e broke n frames
, strippin g a can
-
vas away from its frame and piling the broken sticks upon the hearth
. Th e pictur e ha d bee n o f a nake d gir l carryin g a ligh t i
n a dark
, frightenin g street
.
" I pray, " sh e begge d them
, "tha t on e o f yo u ha s a match
.
Without it, I fear we're done."

"Always," said Helen, rummaging in her pockets. "One mus t neve r b e
withou t fire....
"
Belo w the m i n th e nearb y stree t th e roa r o f th e Manticor e

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became one with a roar from the crowd. Mariann e heard a trumpet bray,
somewhere, or a car horn, as she fidgeted while
Helen searched. At last the woman found what she had looked for, half a dozen
wooden matches, two of them broken. They crouched beside her, cutting off the
wind, while she tried to light the broken frame with a kindling of dead leaves
and scraps of paper. The first four matches went out, caught by vagrant wind
, burne d ou t withou t ignitin g anythin g bu t themselves
.
Mariann e gulped , wiped her hands, let frustrate d fury take her.
"Burn," she commanded. "You will bum to summon help, because I need help.
Burn." Still, there was only one match left when the leaves caught fire to
send tentative tendrils of flam e u p betwee n th e bit s o f broke n
wood
. The n th e woo d caught with a roar, the paint upon it bubbling and
pouring out smoke
. The y foun d othe r tras h i n th e place
, heape d i t upo n th e smal l fir e unti l i t becam e a beaco n
o f leapin g re d an d a colum n o f black
, roilin g smok e risin g upwar d foreve r fro m th e tower
.
"Now," gasped Marianne, "should we call a name? Invoke a spirit? Call upon
God?"
"Cal l upo n Macravail, " crie d Grassi
. "Fo r i f h e hear s you
, h e wil l brin g Go d wit h him.
"

TH
E DUS
K RAI
N wakene d Chimera
, soggin g th e roug h curl s o f hi s man e an d runnin g acros s
Lion'
s close d eye s int o th e comer s of the nostrils, making Lion sneeze.
There was no sound to hav e awakene d him
, an d h e swivele d ears
, tryin g t o determin e what quality of uneasines s it might have been
which put an end to dream and brought him into this place. He rather thought i
t ha d bee n th e soun d o f someon e callin g hi s name
, bu t h e could detect no echo of that summons now. He turned his heavy
head
, followin g th e absenc e o f sound
, ear s continuin g t o pric k and twitch. This motion wakened Goat who
shared the ears wit h Lion
, centere d a s the y wer e i n th e grea t ar c o f Goat'
s horns
. Throug h slitte d eye s Goa t stare d calml y alon g th e shagg y
hai r o f th e backbon e t o th e en d o f hi s bac k wher e th e
flat
, scaled head of Snake rested—still asleep, forked tongue flick-
ering unconsciously—an d Snake's body curved away into Chi-
mera's tail. Lion began pawing wetness away, and Goat caught a glimpse of the
dark wall which towered just behind them, arcing off into haze in either
direction.
"Where are I," he mused in his throaty baah. "We? Where?"
"Outside something," rumbled Lion, washing the last of the

dus k rai n fro m th e dee p wrinkle s betwee n hi s eyes

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. Hi s hea d swiveled as he heard an ominous rattle from behind him, and he
looked into the eyes of Snake, awake now, tail in sinuous motion with its tip
a vibrating blur. "We should be inside it rather than outside it. I don't like
being outside."
Goat turned to regard the wall, forcing Lion to look in the opposite
direction. Two of the Chimera's faces were back to back
, abl e t o tur n completel y around
, a s a n owl'
s hea d does
, whic h allowe d Lio n t o loo k forwar d whil e Goa t looke d bac k
o r vic e vers a o n occasion
. Lio n conteste d th e movement
, turn
-
ing the neck violently as he coughed with a guttural roar, and
Goa t stare d dow n hi s ow n hair y backbon e onc e mor e a t
Snake'
s head
, no w thoroughl y awake
, tongu e flickin g i n an d ou t a s i t tasted the air.
"Wh y ar e w e here?
" Goa t asked
, refusin g t o b e annoye d b y
Lion'
s forcefu l behavior
. "Why?
"
"Sssummoned, no doubt," hissed Snake. "Ssseeking sssome-
one. It would be better to ssstop all thisss ssseeking, all this waking in
ssstrange locationsss." The rattle at the end of Snake's tail gave a dry,
uneasy buzz, a hummin g paranoia of sound that made Goat blink and Lion extend
his claws to scar the ground.
"Wh o i s i t w e ar e seeking?
" aske d Goat
, almos t a s thoug h he knew the answer already but was testing to see
whether the other parts of himself were as aware as he.
"Marianne, " roare d Lio n lustfully
. "W
e ar e seekin g Mari
-
anne."
"Sssill y girlsss, " Snak e hissed
. "Runnin g awa y an d assskin g to be ressscued. "
"She didn't run away," Goat reminded him. "She was sent, Snake." The Chimera
got to its feet, heavy lion ones in front and hooved goat ones at the back
while a scaled serpent tail lashed at the ground. Snake always felt best when
he was lying agains t th e groun d an d bell y scale s wer e wher e
bell y scale s belonged, while Lion preferred to face forward—an d move in
tha t direction
.
"I , o n th e othe r hand, " sai d Goa t t o himsel f i n a philo
-
sophica l manner
, "fin d a s muc h t o commen t upo n lookin g bac k as I ever might
looking forward. It is, perhaps, better that Lion usuall y doe s th e
forwar d looking
. Lio n i s no t overburdene d

with scruple, with metaphysical consideration, with introspec-

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tion. If it were up to Goat, Chimera might hover forever upon the brink of
action without taking it. I, however, am much needed as a kind of balance ,
for if it were up to Lion or Snake alone
, w e woul d b e embroile d i n continua l calamity.
"
This was more or less true. Lion had few doubts about his actions. As he had
said on more than one occasion, "I may be wrong
, bu t I a m neve r i n doubt.
" Goat
, o n th e othe r hand
, wa s seldo m wron g bu t ofte n i n doub t abou t virtuall y
everything
.
Snake did not care. Wrong or right, venom, spite, and suspicion met either
condition.
"Have you ever speculated," began Goat, "on what a strange mosai c we are? I
am continuall y amaze d by the difference , the distinctions, the—"
"Arragh, " roare d Lion
. " I a m outside
, Goat
. I wan t t o b e inside. This is no time for lectures." He began to move
them alon g th e wall
, pac e o n pac e o f lio n feet
, goa t hoove s trottin g behind, snake tail lashing, rattling, a constant
counterpoint to th e heav y breat h o f th e Chimera
, th e hot
, fier y breat h o f th e
Chimera
. "Ca n I bu m thi s wall?
" Lio n roared
, eage r t o mak e the attempt .
Mild-voiced Goat, remonstrating, urging whenever possible a less violent
course of action. "That shouldn't be necessary.
W e se e tracks
. A
vehicl e ha s com e thi s way
, fro m ou t ther e i n the haze toward this place." Goat saw two earth
colored lines impose d upo n th e spong y gray-gree n o f th e plain
, comin g ou t o f a nothin g haz e int o th e realit y o f whereve
r the y were
, vaguel y parallelin g th e wall
, swervin g t o mee t i t fa r ahead
.
"Trackss s mea n people, " Snak e whispered
. "I
t iss s besss t to ssstay away from people. "
"Shhh," said Goat kindly. "We won't let them hurt you."
Goat was watchful of Snake's feelings. Snake's fangs rested ver y nea r
Goat'
s backbone
, an d Snak e wa s no t alway s logica l in his feelings of persecution.
"The y coul d no t hur t me,"
roare d Lion
. " I a m to o powerfu l fo r them
. Besides
, wh y woul d they
? Wh o woul d wis h t o woun d anything as handsome as I? As elegantly
virile? As marvelously strong? As—"
"Yes, yes," murmured Goat. "Quite right. Lion, we are veering away from the
tracks. Cleave a bit more closely to

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thei r directio n an d w e ma y com e soone r t o som e brea k i n
th e wall
. Ah
. W
e though t so
. Le t u s tur n ou r hea d a bi t more
—
yes. See there. A gate!"
"People," warned Snake again, restlessl y shifting his head fro m sid e t o
sid e upo n it s stubb y neck
. "Besss t t o avoid
. Wh y ssshould anyone go inssside?"
"Marianne," growled Lion. "I want her."
"Marianne," murmured Goat, "needs help."
"Marianne," hissed Snake, "should look out for herssself ass s sssh e iss s
perfectl y capabl e o f doing
. I t iss s dangerouss s to go sssaving people."
The gate whic h they approache d was hardl y worth y of the name
, bein g merel y a shadow y interruptio n o f th e featureles s plane
of the wall, two penciled lines with a cross line above, and only the twin
gullies of vehicle tracks leading to and under i t signifyin g tha t
somethin g her e migh t open
. Lio n scratche d at it with his huge paws without effect.
"Let us try," urged Goat. "Horns are very good for this sort o f thing.
" H
e turne d th e reluctan t nec k unti l Goa t face d for
-
ward
, lowere d th e head
, thrus t th e huge
, curlin g horn s agains t the shadowy doorway and began to push, goat
hooves and lion feet thrusting deep into the soil of the place as Chimera
leaned into the effort. Slowly, complainingly , the door opened. Chi-
mera moved into the wall, through the tunnel under the wall, an d ou t ont o
bar e eart h whic h extende d fro m th e wal l itsel f t o th e
outskirt s o f a dark
, silen t city
. Fa r i n th e cente r o f tha t cit y a squat
, ugl y towe r poure d smok e int o th e gra y sk y an d blaze d
with beacon light. Lion could hear the sound of a crowd and the manic scream
of a Manticore.
"Manticore, "N
" hisse d Snake " bellowe
. "Vicsssious
, poisssonousss. neve
"
o matc h fo r me, d Lion
. " I
r sa w a Man
-
ticore I couldn't tear up and eat for breakfast."
"W
e hav e see n ver y fe w Manticores
, actually, " sai d Goat
.
"One or two. Both of them, as I recall, were immature at the time
. Hardl y a representativ e sample
. Slowly

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, Lion
, slowly.
"
Lion
, no t listening
, bounde d awa y towar d th e outskirt s o f the city and down the
nearest empty street, Snake flying hid-
eously behind. Goat sighed and began to brake the hind feet o f Chimera
, slowin g thei r progress
. Lio n pante d an d growled
, bu t Goa t brough t hi m t o a halt
.

"Slowly
, Lion
. I f yo u wan t Marianne
, i t woul d b e bette r t o find her while both she and we are in one
piece—so to speak.
Let us not confron t Manticor e head on. Let us first see wha t the situatio n
is."
"Sssp y i t out, " whispere d Snake
. "Sssnea k abou t a little.
"
"Dishonorable, " roare d Lion
. "Righ t alway s conquers
. Righ t makes might!"
"Righ t makess s dea d Lionsss
, sssometimesss, " hisse d Snake
.
"Lissste n t o Goat.
"
Snarling, but impotent to move Goat's hind feet any faster than Goat wishe d
them to move , Lion abated his mad charge throug h th e cit y street s an
d eve n allowe d Goa t t o tur n th e nec k about to allow Goat some
say in which way they went. They continue d moving toward the tower, but Goat
chose dark ways which were free of traffic. He could hear the sounds of
vehicles, alway s o n othe r streets
, an d th e roa r o f a mob
, an d thes e wer e eas y t o avoid
. I t wa s les s simpl e t o avoi d th e vague
, swimmin g ligh t whic h pervade d som e places
, th e feelin g tha t million s o f tiny being s hung abou t one makin g
shadow s and shift s in the fabric of the air. Still, Chimera made good
progress toward the tower, and the flaming light from it came more clearly
with each cross street they put behind them.
At last they seemed to be only one street away, and Goat urged Lion toward a
fire escape which zigzagged up the side of a building near them. "Let's have a
look from up there," he urged
. "W
e shoul d b e abl e t o se e th e towe r an d th e stree t belo w
it."
Lion shook his massive head, making the rough curls of mane flick into Goat's
eyes, and opene d his mouth as thoug h t o roar
, bu t wa s stoppe d i n a n instan t b y a curiou s pai n i n hi
s back parts. He turned his head to see Snake's head poised over a flank, one
fang barely inserted into the hairy hide of Chimera.
"Lissste n t o Goat
, Lion
. I f i t i s goin g t o di e sssenssslessly

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, might as well die here. Lisssten to Goat."
Goa t slitte d hi s eyes
, wonderin g onc e agai n a t th e strange
-
ness of life and being. Seldom did he feel Snake was an ally, but in this case
the serpent part was willing to help Goat in the interest of discretion. He
turned head front and tip-tapped hind feet up the stairs behind the pad-pa d
of lion feet. The roof was

flat, and they peered over a low parapet at the convocatio n below.
Greasy Girls were dancing in the street, before and around th e Manticor e
wh o slashe d a t them
, sendin g a n occasiona l slic k bod y flyin g t o cras h int o a
wal l an d slid e t o it s base
, restin g there in limp, bloody clutter. On the outer stairs of the tower
were many bulky forms, most with weapon s of one kind or another
, som e wit h missile s whic h wer e bein g hurle d a t th e
Manticor e to increase his fury. High in the square tower, a little above the
place Chimera stood, firelight blazed from arcaded openings on all sides,
lighting the street but leaving the outer stairs of the tower in virtual
darkness. Chimera could see figures moving in this firelight , one man, two
women, bringing more fuel for the fire. Before Goat could intervene , Lion
roared, one shattering roar which sent pieces of the parapet flying into the
stree t an d shuddere d th e buildin g beneat h them
. Whil e Goa t was still trying to decide what to do about this, Lion had
them halfwa ha d formulate y dow n th e fir s expostulation e escap e
onc e more
, an d b y th i n th e street e tim e Goa t d hi
, Lio n ha d the m
, confronting the Manticore, roaring once more to make the street echo and
thunder with the noise.
"Beast, " challenge d Lion
. "Horri d monster
! Ugl y creature
!
Hideous malefactor! Stand and fight, monster!"
"Monster, " screame d th e Manticore
, throwin g bac k hi s dreadfu l hea d i n a laug h whic h drowne d
th e Lion'
s roar
. "Mon
-
ster. Old Crazy-Quilt! Old Bits-and-Pieces! Old Snake's Tail, Cat's Face! Look
at the monster crying monster. Aha, ha, haroo, ha ha! Pot calls kettle black.
Snake calls lizard low.
Frog calls newt slimy. Chimera calls Manticore monster! Aha, ha, haroo, ha
ha!"
This pejorative barrage would have stopped Goat in his track hardl s whil e
h e though t i t out s alread
. Lio n wa o infuriate s no t slowe d b y it
, y hear d it . Snak e wa y s d b y th e nois e an d th e disturbanc
e tha t hi s fang s wer e full y extende d an d drippin g wit h
poison
. Thu s Goa t wa s bypassed
, lef t t o thin k th e matte r ove r whil e Chimer a wen t t o
battle
. Th e firs t Man
-
ticore knew of it was that he found a huge wound slashed into hi s sid e b y

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fang s whil e claw s rake d a t hi s flank s an d a needl e strike
told him Snake had managed to get in one bite in passing.

Manticor e turned to look into the calm and considerin g eyes of Goat for one
split moment before Chimera turned and he face d Lio n onc e more
. Th e loo k fro m Goa t ha d bee n mor e woundin g tha n th e bite
s o r slashes
, fo r i t ha d bot h recognize d him and shown pity, an emotion with
which Manticor e was generall y unfamilia r bu t kne w t o b e lethal
.
"Cat'
s Face
, a m I?
" snarle d Lion
. "Fee l m y cat'
s teeth
, then, monster." And he went by once more, slashing at the othe r side
. Thi s tim e Manticor e wa s read y fo r him
, an d th e great scorpion tail came down to strike Goat's back in front of
Snake's head.
"I am immune," remarked Goat to Manticore. "Though venom may give me some
painful moments , it should be ob-
vious to any sensible observer that immunity to any lasting effects of poison
would be necessar y for such a creatur e as I.
While I am able, most of the time, to keep Snake's feelings o f persecutio n
ameliorated
, fro m tim e t o tim e eve n m y elo
-
quence and powers of persuasion are insufficient, and Snake expresses his
feelings of powerlessness against the world in a sly and poisonous attack....
"
These words were lost in the general confusion, though Goat wen t o n t o
explai n a t som e lengt h th e evolutionar y attribute s most necessary
to the survival of Chimerae. Meantime, Man-
ticore's venom was making him unusually irritable, and at last he fell silent,
focused upon the sensation s emanatin g from within.
Th e Manticor e ha d falle n back
, hi s scream s betrayin g mor e pai n an d confusio n tha n challenge
. Whil e Chimer a wa s immun e t o venom
, Manticor e wa s not
, an d Snake'
s bit e wa s beginnin g to tell upon the monster , weakenin g it and making
it feeble.
Aroun d i t th e Greas y Girl s dre w away
, murmurin g t o them
-
selves
, an d fro m th e step s o f th e churc h th e hierarc h beckone d
to them. Sorrowful music, which had stopped at the height of the battle,
resumed once more with a funereal sound which seeme d t o affec t th e
Manticor e adversel y fo r i t screame d i n agitation at the noise, an
agonized bellowing.
High above, Marianne and Grassi watched from the tower as Helen continue d
fueling the signal fire. Though all three presumed that their help had already
arrived, it had done so in such outlandish guise as to make them somewhat
doubtful

whether this was, in fact, all they were to expect. Thus by mutua l an d

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unspoke n consen t th e fir e ha d bee n kep t burnin g i n th e hop
e tha t somethin g else
, somethin g mor e acceptabl e and usual in appearance , might manifes t
itself. Now that the battle began to howl its way toward what appeared to be a
final climax
, the y ha d begu n t o doub t tha t an y furthe r interventio n
would be afforded .
"I s tha t Macravail?
" aske d Mariann e finally
, havin g post
-
pone d askin g th e questio n ou t o f deferenc e t o Grassi
.
" I believe
, prett y lady
, tha t i t is , thoug h I canno t sa y wit h certaint y an d mus t
admi t t o considerabl e surprise
. I t i s no t a creature I would have approache d on the street with glad
pro-
testations of acquaintance. Still, there are familiar things about it."
"Ah," said Mariann e encouragingly .
Grassi nodded thoughtfully. "I recognize the pride in the roar
. Fro m tim e t o tim e I see m t o hea r th e goa t par t o f i
t commenting in scholarly fashion on something or other, and that
, too
, I recognize
. Whil e I hesitat e t o sa y so
, eve n th e his s of the serpent part is somewhat familiar to me, though I
am prou d t o sa y i t evoke s n o genera l feelin g o f remembrance.
"
"If I may choose a part," said Marianne, "I will choose the goat part."
"Forgive me for disagreeing, pretty lady," Grassi interrupted her, "but in the
current situation, it seems to me that the lion part is doing very well for
our cause."
She assented to this, still regarding the great teeth of the lion with no less
disfavor than she regarded the great teeth of th e Manticore
. Thos e teet h migh t b e o f differin g shape s an d arrangement,
but both sets served the same purpose; both were hungry
, powerful
, forceful
, an d aggressive
. Sh e di d no t hav e tim e t o commen t o n this
, however
, fo r a lon g blac k ca r ha d driven to the corner of the street where
the battle raged, and sh e recognize d al l to o wel l th e figur e
whic h go t ou t o f it
.
"Madame Delubovoska," she sighed, a cold breath of danger going down her back
which chilled even the heat of the fire.
"Who is this?" asked Helen. "Is it the same? Oh, by Zurvan the Timeless, it is
the same woman who sent my David to this place." And she raised a heavy piece
of broken furniture above he r hea d an d cas t i t wit h al l he r
strengt h towar d th e woma n i n

the street below. The missile fell short, but it sufficed to attract
Madame's attention to those who peered down at her from above. Madame's arm
came up, pointing, and they heard her screa m order s t o th e Manticore
, order s whic h mad e tha t beas t tur n laboriousl y an d tea r hi
s wa y throug h th e fe w remainin g

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Greasy Girls towar d the bottom of the stair where he was met wit h othe r
missile s flun g b y thos e o f David'
s party
. Th e Man
-
ticor e cowered
, bleate d i n a strangel y sheep-lik e way
, bu t wa s driven forward by Madame's screams to attempt the stairway.
Chimera had been momentarily ignored in this rearrange-
men t o f th e battle
, a n oversigh t whic h Lion—to o lat e restraine d b y Goat—rectifie d
b y a n ear-shatterin g roa r an d a plung e to -
war d th e Manticore'
s backside
.
"You'll go blind if that stinger hits your eyes," said Goat.
"You r fac e wil l swel l up
, an d you'l l loo k terrible
. Yo u migh t los e you r marvelou s appearanc e forever
. Careful
, Lion
. Pru
-
dence. A little prudence."
"He's attacking Marianne, " roared Lion. "She's mine. He can'
t hav e her.
"
"He isn't yet near Marianne, " said Goat. "That woman, on the other hand, is
up to something and is very near to us."
Madame was pointing at Chimera with one hand while the other hand twisted high
in the air, as though she turned a great spigot on some unseen keg to release
a force against them.
Goa t sai d again
, s o urgentl y tha t Lio n turne d t o se e th e threat
, "Sh e i s ver y nea r t o us....
"
Lion
, a s usual
, di d no t wai t o n hi s decisio n bu t attacke d th e woman at
once, causing her to abort the twisting motion and fle e towar d he r ca r
i n a curiousl y arachnoi d scramble
, al l arm s and legs in a scurry of furious activity . From the car she
cried an imperious summons to the Manticore. That beast backed dow n th e
stair
, cryin g it s pai n fro m severa l wound s an d the n away down the
street after the retreatin g car.
Chimera heard Mariann e crying a trumpet call from the tower. "The library.
She's going to the library. After her, every-
one!" And in answer to that cry the Greasy Girls poured from th e church
, suddenl y arme d agains t wha t the y ha d worshiped
, th e resistanc e fighter s boile d awa y fro m th e towe r stairs
, an d
Hele n le d th e othe r tw o i n a wil d scrambl e dow n t o th e
plac e

where the Chimera , confuse d by this sudden turn of events, awaite d them
.
"Marianne, " growle d Lion
. " I hav e save d you.

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"
"Marianne, " murmure d Goat
, "it'
s goo d tha t yo u ar e no t injured."
"Marianne," hissed Snake, "ssshould be assshamed to have ssstarted this
messss."
"Macravail? " asked Grassi doubtfully . "Makr Avehl?"
Th e Chimer a sa t down
, Lio n lickin g th e bloo d fro m hi s feet
, making a face of revulsion. Goat managed to turn the head slightly so that
he faced Grassi. "Aghrehond," he said. "The beacon was your work, I assume?"
"Actually
, sir
, i t wa s Marianne's
. Sh e becam e ver y deter
-
mined, all at once. Very wild, almost, taking no advice at all."
"Actually
, i t wa s I, " agree d Marianne
, comin g forwar d t o la y he r han d upo n Goat'
s muzzle
, stroking
. " I ha d reache d th e en d o f m y patience
. Thoug h I didn'
t expect..
. you.
"
"What did you exssspect?" hissed Snake. "A prinssse in ssshining armor? On a
white horssse?"
Mariann e dre w back
, awa y fro m th e weavin g hea d o f Snake
, in so doing confronting Lion's lustfully adoring eyes. Lion shook his head,
fluffing his great mane and posing for her, semi-rampant .
"Pat him," whispered Goat, "or we'll never get away from here."
"Away? " She was suddenl y unsure , doubtful .
"My dear, surely you don't think the Manticore and the woman have gone
forever? They have simply made a strategic retreat. It must be now, or never,
don't you think? I am often accused of making unconscionabl e delays , but my
sense of occasio n i s ver y stron g an d i t tell s m e tha t no w
i s th e tim e o f thei r defeat—o r ours.
"
Marianne, hands sunk deep in Lion's mane, nodded to this.
"Where
, wher e i s Helen?
" sh e asked
, turnin g t o tak e inventor y of the little group.
"She went after them," said Grassi. "Waving a bludgeon of some sort and crying
for blood. If we are to be part of this denouement
, w e ha d bes t follow.
"
"I f yo u wil l ride
, Marianne, " sai d Goat
, "w e ma y ge t o n a

bit faster." And he crouched the back legs a little to let her get o n
Chimera'
s back
, holdin g hersel f wel l forwar d b y grippin g
Goat's horns. They set off at Lion's usual heedless pace, Mr.

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Grassi puffin g along behind and Mariann e holding on in deep dread of Snake's
fangs, so close behind her. They fled down dark streets littered with bits of
the posters which were shed-
ding from the walls as leaves drop in the fall, a constant shower o f
fragment s slippin g fro m th e wall s t o pil e o n th e street s i
n a whisperin g mass
. Her e an d ther e a s the y ra n the y sa w light s comin g o n i
n uppe r windows
. The y cam e t o a regio n o f tall
, narrow-fronted houses staring over their stoops, a littered park aroun d a
dilapidate d ban d stand
, shrubbery
, a corner
, an d the n the portico of the library itself, gray ghost light shining out
at them from behind tall, glass .doors. Around this place the re-
sistanc e ha d gathered
, figure s caperin g aroun d bonfire s an d voice s screamin g defianc
e an d threat
. Mariann e though t sh e coul d se e th e Manticor e insid e th e
building
, crouche d o n th e great stairway, peering out at them, but she could not
be sure.
Sh e dismounted
, standin g clos e t o Chimera
, on e ar m throw n aroun d it s neck
, chee k clos e t o Goat'
s lips
.
"The y ar e invulnerabl e i n there, " sai d Goat
. "I t i s a redoubt
, a fortress, bound about with enchantments and spells. From ther e the y ca
n strik e a t u s whe n the y will
, an d al l w e ca n d o i s bottl e the m up
, perhaps
, fo r a time
. W
e canno t ge t a t the m t o defea t them
. I t i s no t goo d enoug h merel y t o sta y her e forever, for
then we might ask whether we hold them or they us."
"If we were in Mr. Grassi's apartment," said Marianne, "I
woul d tak e m y boo k an d rea d i n it , a s h e ha s taugh t m
e t o do
, finding in my own story the thing I must do next. Since the boo k i s no t
here
, the n I mus t simpl y remembe r wha t i s i n it.
"
"Ca n yo u d o that?
" aske d Goat
, curiously
. "W
e fin d oursel f unable to remember accurately things that have happened in
th e past
. W
e ofte n mis-remembe r the m i n orde r t o mak e the m mor e logica
l o r mor e appropriat e t o thei r tim e o r circumstance
, o r the y becom e mis-remembere d throug h to o frequen t repeti
-
tio n o r no t bein g remembere d enough
. T o remembe r one'
s ow n story accurately is a talent too few creatures are capable of.... "

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"I will do it," said Marianne, "because it is necessary." She sa t dow n o n
th e ground
, leanin g o n on e o f Lion'
s grea t fron t

leg s wit h hi s massiv e hea d shelterin g he r fro m above
, an d pu t he r fac e int o he r hands
. Th e caperin g figure s ha d pu t he r i n mind of the time she had
seen them last, when their black shadows cavorted around the fire outside the
basement room.
They had been burning the book she had put out the coal chute.
The coal chute. There had been a way out—for something .
There could be a way in—for someone. "Mr. Grassi, find
Helen, will you? Tell her to find David and bring him here. I
have though t of a way to get in."
He came quickly, face smudged with torch soot, panting from the running , face
no less hard-se t agains t her than it had been when last she had seen him.
"What now?" he demanded .
"Have you decided to help us?"
"I was alway s willin g to help you," she replied , "as you would have known
if you had stopped accusing me and listened.
Were you among those who asked that a book be put out the coal chute? When I
was in the library?"
"He was, and I," cried the cloud-haire d woman who stood just behind him. "We
burned the book, and at least one of us got away."
"If I could put the book out, why couldn't some of us get in?" asked Marianne
. "We could open the doors from inside."
There was a chorus of approbatio n at this, interrupte d by
Goat and Grassi, both speaking at once. "Dear pretty lady, think, do! Could
you open them from inside before? " and "If it were that simple , Marianne , I
think they would have though t of it and set some guard agains t it."
"No, no," she exclaimed . "Of course I couldn't open them before, because I
was under a malign enchantment . You told me that, Mr. Grassi. You also said
that Macravail was the expert on malign enchantment , and is he not here, now?
You said he was.
" Sh e stoo d up
, awa y fro m Chimer a an d looke d a t hi m with measuring eyes. "Are
you, indeed, expert in malign en-
chantment ? Can you undo whatever it is the Madame has done with that place?"
The question was meaningles s to Lion. It meant much to
Goat, much of a disturbing nature, making him believe that in some other place
or time Chimer a might have been otherwis e than now presented to this mob.
Malign enchantment . Ah. Now there was a questio n meritin g som e length y
study . Unfortu -

nately, there would be no time for lengthy study, or even for brief study, for
the mob gathere d 'round had it in mind to force som e issue
, whethe r o r no
, an d t o mak e somethin g happen
, for good or for ill, they seemed to care not. Still, Goat's curious min d
tol d the m tha t the y wer e i n som e dange r fro m thi s sug
-
gestion, and that if the occasion were to be saved, Goat must do it.
"Marianne, " h e said
, turnin g th e nec k s o tha t h e face d he r an d th e crowd
, "i f w e ha d muc h uninterrupte d time
, w e migh t dea l wit h Madame'
s enchantments

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. W
e hav e n o tim e a t all
.
Whateve r w e d o mus t b e don e i n th e nex t moments
, fo r sh e i s a sly horror who will escape us if we give her time."
"Araagh," roared Marianne, sounding not unlike Lion in that moment , full of
fury, the flywhee l of anger within her spinnin g a s thoug h t o flin g
it s fragment s upo n al l th e world
.
"Either there is too much time or not enough, either we may act or we may not,
we may remember or we may not, and all at her behest. Then if there is no time
to do anything sly and guileful, be done! Let us burn the building down, and
her within it!"
Goa t nodded
. "Muc h thoug h i t pain s m e t o sa y so
, i n thi s case—an d i n thi s cas e only
, no t t o establis h a preceden t fo r future action—I believe you are
right."
This was greeted with a louder roar of approval than before, augmented by
Lion, who obviously considered the suggestion timely. He gave Goat no further
time to talk, but leaped upon th e portic o an d breathe d flam e upo n
th e door s o f th e place
.
Inside
, Manticor e leape d back
, bleatin g it s odd
, plaintiv e cry
, so timid in compariso n to the scream with which it had terrified th e city
. Still
, i t wa s a terro r fo r n o reason
. Chimera'
s flame s splashed against the great glass doors and did no more than darken
them slightly.
"The building is brick," said Marianne. "It won't burn."
"Oh, it will bum, " said David . "We have only to find the weak places. There
are other doors, ones made of wood. There are window frames, also of wood.
There are shingles, case-
ments, porches, all of wood. Come, beast, let us find the way t o kindl e
thi s fire....
" An d th e mo b swep t away
, leavin g Grass i and Marianne to sit alone upon the curb.
"Well
, lady
, i t seem s w e hav e mad e a grea t turmoi l here
.

Yo u ar e suddenl y s o forceful
, yo u hav e take n thi s worl d i n a storm
. Tsk
. I wa s no t eve n needed.
"
"Oh
, yo u were, " sh e hugge d hi m briefly
. "Certainl y yo u were
. It'
s jus t tha t I finall y go t tire d o f floppin g abou t i n thi s
ridiculous world. I mean, why hadn't it occurred to us how silly it was to run
from a stuffed Manticore ? Had you thought o f that
? Th e thin g i s stuffed

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! I t live s i n a taxidermist'
s window!
"
"Still, it rages lively enough," he objected.
"Well
, yes
. Bu t s o do..
. puppets
. S o do..
. machines
. S o d o man y thing s whic h ar e no t reall y alive.
"
"Thing s which can kill one dead enough , pretty lady. Thing s which can do
much evil, whether they are alive or no."
'True
. Still
, bein g afrai d o f the m rathe r tha n o f th e powe r whic h move
s the m i s no t sensible
, i s it , Mr
. Grassi
? O
r s o I
have told mysel f this night. Do you know what those resistanc e people told
me? They told me that I knew the Manticore, knew its name. Was kin to it. That
made me very angry, Mr. Grassi.
So angry I have forgotten to be afraid." And she sat steamily listening to the
crash and roar of the crowd, the upwelling shout s a s the y foun d
somethin g vulnerabl e t o thei r likin g i n th e library
. He r attentio n wa s draw n t o th e buildin g b y a flickerin g
light which came through the front doors, firelight, dancing light from deep
within the building. The Chimera had suc-
ceeded in setting the place on fire.
"All the books," she crowed, "free. All the people let go.
N o mor e Manticore.
"
She spoke too soon. There was a crash of glass, a crash exactl y lik e tha t
wit h whic h th e Manticor e announce d hi s usua l wal k a s th e
door s shattere d i n letha l shard s an d th e grea t beas t stood
forth upon the porch, fur smoking, hair ablaze, driven int o madnes s b y
pai n an d terror
. Screamin g it s challeng e th e beas t ra n towar d her
, mout h gapin g wide
, slavering
, teet h bare d an d claw s extende d a s the y tor e int o th e
ground
. Chimer a wa s behin d th e building
. Ther e wa s n o plac e t o hide
. Sobbing
, Grass i trie d t o ge t i n fron t o f Mariann e onl y t o hav e
he r thrus t him away with the strength of ten women. She rose from the curb
, rose
, an d wen t o n rising
, highe r an d higher
, a giantess
, looming in her height as tall as the tower they had left, growing greate r
wit h eac h moment
, s o blow n u p wit h rag e tha t Grass i could not see her eyes where
they looked down from the dark-

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ness of that looming height, though he heard her voice thun-
dering at them like continents colliding.
"Down, dog.
Down, beast.
Down you fat cat, you mur-
dering monster from a child's dream;
I have had enough of you.
I have had enough of that suffocating murderess, your aunt. You have killed
what was dear to me. It was you killed
Cloud-haired mama, Harvey, you. I will have vengeance on you. Run now,
cur, before I squash you as I would squash a beetle on this street."
Ther e wa s silence
, utte r silence
, an d Grass i hi d hi s hea d between his hands, expecting that the sky
would fall. Nothing.
Nothing . He peeke d betwee n his finger s to see her standin g upo n th e
curb
, starin g a t th e spac e wher e th e Manticor e ha d been. There was
no Manticore. Before them the library burned briskly, sending great clouds of
foul-smelling smoke into the genera l murk
. Ther e wa s cheerin g fro m th e crowd
. Chimer a cam e aroun d th e corne r o f th e building
, pause d whe n h e sa w th e broke n doors
, an d leape d towar d them
, roarin g a challeng e fo r Manticore
. Whe n thi s wa s no t answered
, h e bounde d about
, repeating it. When it was still not answered, he came to Mari-
anne and lay down at her feet, beginning to purr with enormous satisfaction.
She put her arms around his neck and stared away into space thoughtfully ,
while Goat nuzzled at her neck. Above them the sk y bega n t o lighten
. Th e nois e o f th e crow d gre w soft
, the n softe r still
. Th e outline s o f th e cit y wavered
, bega n t o pulse
, the n dim
. Grass i blinked
, blinke d again
, an d foun d himsel f seate d besid e Mak r Aveh l o n a grass y
ban k beneat h a flowerin g tree
. Wate r leapin g downwar d tol d hi m the y wer e i n moun
-
tainous country. There was no sign of Marianne.

THA T PAR T OF Mak r Aveh l Zahman i whic h was of a calm and considering
nature was not surprised to find itself in the forests of Alphenlicht, within
sight of the Holy Mountain which held th e Cav e o f Light
. Tha t par t o f Aghrehon d whic h wa s als o o f a calm and
considering nature was not surprised to find Helen
Navidi and her husband, David, on the slopes of the same mountain, evidently
having lost their way during a mushroom huntin g expedition
. A
t least
, s o Hele n said
, shakin g he r hea d an d givin g ever y appearanc e o f confusion
. Davi d wa s les s sur e and had the look about him of a man recovering
from a serious illness. Since the couple had disappeared some four years be-
fore
, Mak r Aveh l wa s o f th e opinio n th e illnes s wa s recen t an

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d largely illusory, but he said nothing of the kind to the couple.
How they had moved from whateve r place Madam e had sent
David to Marianne's own world was a mystery which he had n o tim e t o solv
e a t th e moment
, thoug h h e resolve d t o d o i t a t a later time.
Tha t par t o f Mak r Aveh l Zahman i whic h wa s impetuou s an d
fiery was in a frenzy to find itself thousand s of miles from the plac e i t
assume d Mariann e Zahman i t o be
. Tha t par t o f Mak r

Aveh l crosse d mile s o f countrysid e i n les s tim e tha n goo d
sens e sai d i t coul d b e don e t o lea d a pantin g Aghrehon d
int o th e
Residence and to a telephone. Phone service into and out of
Alphenlich t was always problematical . After too much time and some
confusion, he was connected with Ellat, where he ha d know n sh e woul d
be
, i n Marianne'
s apartmen t i n a cit y thousands of miles away.
"B
y Zurvan
, Mak r Avehl
, wher e ar e you
? Th e Residence
?
How? When? Why didn't you..."
To all of which he merely repeated what he had been saying since she answered
the phone, "Is Marianne there, Ellat? Have you seen her?" receiving the same
answer of incomprehension and at last, verbal confirmation.
"I haven't seen her. Makr Avehl, I haven't seen her. About an hour ago, a man
came to the door who said he had just bought the house a week or so ago and
was surprised to find anyone in it. The people downstairs, Mrs. Winesap and
her friend, have disappeared. It doesn't even look recently lived i n dow n
there
. A
piec e o f plaste r fel l of f th e wal l i n th e fron t room a
while ago. Something—Mak r Avehl, something—"
He though t furiously , unabl e to think and yet forced to conside r
something
, whateve r thin g i t migh t be
. Finally
, ful l of passionate sorrow, he said, "Ellat. Pick up the things I gave
her—the pictures, the little carvings, that medicine bag on the window seat.
The pot of crocuses, Ellat. If you see anything els e ther e tha t look s
a s thoug h sh e treasure d it , brin g it . The n get out of there.
The car is still there. Drive to a hotel. When yo u ge t there
, cal l me
. Don'
t linger
, Ellat
. I hav e a feelin g about this...."
H e le b e t o hol t he r go
, feelin he g tha t t o hol d he n o f danger r longe r o n th e
phon e migh t d r i n som e positio
. H
e walke d abou t th e Residence
, movin g her e an d ther e lik e a frustrate d animal in a cage,
moving, moving, not knowing where he went or what he did. Eventuall y he was
called to the phone once more to hear Ellat's voice.

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"There was nothing there, Makr Avehl. Nothing of hers at all. When I left, the
walls were turning dingy. The curtains were all tattered. There was nothing in
her closet, nothing in the drawers of her dressing table. Nothing in the
bathroom medicine cabinet. Only the things you gave her, and I brought

them away.
When
I
left, the place was all overgrown, as though no one had lived there for years,
decades. It was frightening. "
"Ah, " h e said
. "The n sh e chos e anothe r world
, somewher e else.... "
" A fals e world
, Mak r Avehl
? On e o f th e fals e worlds?
"
" I don'
t know
. Whe n I hav e rested
, perhap s I wil l as k th e
Cave. Perhaps it is not one of the false worlds at all. Perhaps some other...
well. Aghrehond says that at the end she was ver y strong
, Ellat
, a giantess
. Nothin g coul d stan d agains t her
.
Sh e wa s powerful
, shattering
. Still
, sh e hugge d me..
. I...
"
He could say nothing more, and she asked him nothing more.
Later she called Aghrehond and learned that they had given
Mak r Aveh l somethin g t o mak e hi m sleep
, fo r h e ha d bee n tearing at himself in his rage and frustration until
they feared fo r him
. "Whe n wil l yo u b e home
, Mistress?
" h e asked
. "W
e nee d yo u here.
"
"As soon as a plane can bring me. I'll have to come in to
Van
, i n Turkey
. Lak e Urmi a i s ou t o f th e questio n wit h Ira n behavin g a s
i t is . I'l l com e t o Van
, Hondi
. I wil l sen d wor d whe n I leave
. Sen d a ca r t o mee t me.
"
She came within the few days it took for Makr Avehl to resum e th e outwar d
appearanc e o f th e calm
, loquacious
, hu
-
morou s ma n h e ha d bee n before

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, thoug h ther e wer e shadow s i n hi s eye s an d h e occasionall y
hisse d i n a powerles s fur y whic h onl y Aghrehon d understood
. H
e was
, i f anything
, mor e in
-
clined to lecture on any subject whatsoever, and it was obvious to those who
knew him well that he was a man hovering at the edg e o f breakdown
. Ellat
, seein g him
, wa s no t relieve d o f anxiety.
"H
e mus t g o t o th e Cave
, Hondi
. H
e mus t fin d a n answer
.
He is eating himself up not having an answer."
"S o I hav e urge d him
, Mistress
. H
e wil l no t go
. H
e i s afrai d ther e i s n o answer
, an d h e dare s no t le t himsel f kno w that.
"
"No. If there is no answer, he must know that. He cannot begin to heal until
he knows." And she set about the business o f seekin g th e Cav e o n Mak
r Avehl'
s behalf
.
H e wa s no t helpful—no t resentful
, no t overl y ful l o f excus e or delay, simply not assisting in the
process. He ate the ritual meal without comment and without enjoyment. He was
dressed in the ritual robe at dawn, for Ellat had determine d that a dawn

reading would be most likely to produce results. He suffered himself to be
driven to the foot of the mountain where the easy slope of the trail wound
upward toward the entrance of the
Cave, and to be urged from the car toward the ascent. Once on the path,
however, it was only the pressure of Ellat's arm o n th e on e sid e an d
Aghrehond'
s o n th e othe r whic h force d hi m upward
. Bird s wer e twitterin g thei r pre-daw n exercise s a s they crossed
one of the small streams which striped the moun-
tai n wit h silve r sound
. Fa r awa y cow s wer e lowin g i n a meadow
, an d Aghrehon d smiled
, gla d o f th e soun d i n th e stillnes s o f morning
. The y turne d t o win d thei r wa y back
, the n turne d again and again, coming at last to the carven door which
stood guard at the east portal of the Cave. There Nalavi and Cyram an d th e
gir l waited
, th e gir l Mak r Aveh l though t ha d scar y eyes
.
Therat. They lighted their way into the Cave, down the sandy, narrow cavern
which opened into the great, round hall, there to group themselves around the
altar, utter the proper words, and put out their lamps.

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Darkness surrounded them. Only their breathing could be heard in the quiet.
Outside the sun would be rising, spreading its rays upon the world, letting
them fall upon the mountainto p to be reflected from millions of dancing
leaves, from the liquid eyes of deer, from the barrels of a hunter's gun, from
pools of de w an d a hal f hundre d leapin g streams
, dow n a hundre d thou
-
sand tortuous tunnels and holes into the body of the mountain , some to be
lost forever in that great pile, other rays to be reflected once, and again,
and again, until they fell into the cavern where they could be seen, upon
carvings put there when
Rom e wa s a n empire
, whe n Pict s roame d i n forest s no t ye t ruled by Saxons, when
Charlemagn e ruled.... Ellat heard Makr
Avehl sigh, sigh with a hopeless sound as he turned to see where the light
fell.
"A child," said Therat firmly. "The light falls on a child."
Indeed , abov e their head s the light fell on a tiny carvin g of a child
, a youn g girl
, standin g i n a garden
.
"A mother," said Nalavi. "The light falls on a mother." This carving was
larger, older, partly obliterated by the slow drip of water over the
centuries, but unmistakably a mother nursing a child.
" A knife, " sai d Cyram
. "Th e ligh t fall s upo n a knife.
" An d

tha t symbol
, too
, wa s clearl y etche d i n th e gra y ston e beneat h the golden ray
of light which leaked down on it through all the massive weight of the
mountain above.
The y waited
, waited
, bu t thes e ray s hel d firm an d n o other s broke the dark. At last
Therat murmured the appropriate pray-
ers, the lamp s were lit, and they left the place .
At the portal, they stopped for a time to look upon Al-
phenlicht, bright in the dawn. It was the girl, Therat, who said, "Archmage
, ma y a Kav i offe r yo u assistance?
"
"On e might
, Therat
, excep t tha t I hav e foun d th e sign s eas y to read. She has gone
back into childhood, and I cannot go to her there. She has gone into her own
time. I cannot go. No
Kavi has ever gone."
"Thi s i s true
, Archmage
. An d yet
, i f I wer e you
, I woul d conside r tha t tim e moves
, an d tha t he r childhoo d was
, bu t i s no t now.
" An d Thera t favore d hi m wit h a sharp
, challengin g glance from her eagle's eyes before bowing deeply before him,
as did Nalavi and Cyram, though ordinarily they would have been full of banter
and nonsense. They took themselves away, leaving Ellat and Aghrehond with him

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on that high place.
"Childhood was, but is not now," mused Ellat. "Now what di d sh e mea n b y
that
, Mak r Avehl?
"
"It means, dear Mistress," said Aghrehond, for Makr Avehl gave no evidence of
having heard her, "that if the pretty lady, Marianne, went back to being a
girl-child, she has had to grow up again."
"Exactly," said Makr Avehl, slapping his hands against his shoulder s a s
thoug h t o wak e himsel f fro m som e ba d drea m o r malevolen t
spell
. "Sh e ha s ha d t o gro w u p again.
"

THEY SAT AT a table on the terrace overlookin g acres of lawn o n whic h a
larg e machin e surmounte d b y a smal l ma n wit h a gay umbrella
over his head made undulating stripes and a smell o f cu t hay
. Th e smal l ma n ha d a brown
, roun d belly
, a n ancien t straw hat, and a pipe. Makr Avehl thought he looked supremel
y contented atop the clattering machine and wished that he him-
sel f coul d shar e tha t contentment
. Thoug h hi s oute r sel f gav e the appearance of calm, inside he was a
tempest of hope and desire and longing and half a dozen other emotions he had
not taken trouble to identify. It had taken several days of concen-
trated effort to find this place and another week to obtain an invitation
. Th e woma n acros s th e tabl e fro m hi m kne w nothin g of this.
She sipped from her tall glass, following his gaze out across the lawns.
"You are admiring Mr. Tanaka's stomach," she said. "I have thought of
suggesting to him that he might wear a shut while running the mower—it is his
newest and most glorious toy—
but he enjoys the sun so. When he gets bored with the thing, he'll let one of
his grandchildren run it. None of Robert's or
Richard's children will care whether they wear shirts, either,

though their fathers are very dignified." She laughed pleasantly, sipping from
the tinkling glass once more. He examined her covertly, a slender, beautifu l
woman of almost fifty, hair es-
caping its loose bun to make a cloud around her face. "Haur-
vata t Zahmani
, m y husband
, wil l b e her e momentarily
. H e wil l b e s o gla d t o mee t you
. H
e wa s s o excite d an d please d whe n you called."
Makr Avehl cocked his head curiously. "Haurvatat? Surely that is a very old
name among our people."
"Accordin g t o m y husban d i t is . Haurvata t an d Ameretat
, among the Medes the twin gods of health and immortality. I
don't know what possessed his parents to give him and his siste r suc h name
s excep t tha t i t reminde d the m o f Alphenlicht
.
I simply call him Harve. It's much easier. Of course, he insisted on passing
the names on to his own children. I call his son
Harve, too, and my daughter is Marianne. It isn't that far from
Amereta t bu t i t fall s easie r o n America n ears.
"
"Marianne," said Makr Avehl. "Yes. Oh, yes."

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"You say you met my daughter at the university?"
"No th e famil
. I di d no likeness t mee t her
. I di resemble d se e her
, an d wa s fascinate d b y y
. Sh e s o d ou r famil y tha t I mad e inquiries—whic h le d m e t
o yo u an d you r charmin g husband
.
He was very kind on the phone, very hospitable to invite me down for the
weekend." Actually, the process by which he had located them had been the
reverse of this, from them to Mari-
anne
, bu t h e ha d n o intentio n o f sayin g so
.
"My husband speaks often of Alphenlicht, though he has not seen it since he
was a child."
"You, ma'am—you remember it?"
"Well
, no t really
. M
y fathe r cam e her e t o th e embass y whe n
I was only seven. He returned home several times, but I never went with him.
Then, just at the time I would have gone, I
met Haurvatat." She laughed again. "He was a young girl's dream
, a bi t older
, an d so goo d looking
. I hav e neve r regrette d marryin g young.
"
"He had been married before?" Makr Avehl kept his voice casual. "You mentioned
his son, but your daughter."
Sh e nodded
, a bi t sadl y h e thought
, an d shoo k he r glas s s o that it rang like little bells. "Yes. He
had been married before.
She died when young Harve was bom, young Haurvatat.
Health.

That's what the word 'haurvatat' means, you know. So sad."
She seemed about to go on, but at the momen t they heard a voice inside the
nearest room and a booming laugh. The laugh preceded the man, and Makr Avehl
rose to shake the hand of the tall, splendid form with patriarchal beard and
flowing locks.
Makr Avehl though t of carved frescoe s at Persepolis , magnif -
icent and ancient forms going back through the centuries. Haur-
vata t Zahman i migh t wel l hav e bee n th e sculptor'
s mode l fo r any of them.
"Well, here you are, my boy. And looking exactly as I had picture d you
. W
e d o ru n t o famil y likeness
, don'
t we
, w e
Zahmanis
. Di d yo u notice
, Arti
? O f cours e yo u did
. H
e look s jus t a s youn g Harv e woul d have...
. Well, " heartil y changin g the subject, "we are delighted to have you as

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our guest mis weekend. Are you here for some diplomatic reason? Or should
I ask?"
Makr Avehl shook his head modestly . "You may ask, of course. I am here for no
sensitive reason. I am here to buy agricultural machinery." Such was the
reason he had invented out of whole cloth the week before when he had found
that
Mariann college th e universit e wa s studyin s intereste g livestoc k
managemen t a t a n agricultura l
. " I wa d i n som r attends e demonstratio n project s a t y you r
daughte
. Somethin g t o d o wit h orchard production." What Makr Avehl did not
know about orchard production would have filled a library, but he smiled
calmly, visualizing apples.
"Ah!" Marianne's mother smiled enlightenment . "So that is wher e yo u
met—no t met
? Merel y saw
? Ah
, well
, i t i s trul y a famil y likeness
. Yo u sa w he r a t th e agricultura l school
. Suc h a professio n for a woman! Her father was dead set against it.... "
"Oh, now, now, Arti. Not dead set. Doubtful . Put it that way
. Jus t a littl e doubtful.
"
"Doubtful.
" Th e woma n mad e a sou r mouth
. "Ful l o f fur y and swearing and carrying on. Saw no reason for a woman
to g o t o universit y a t all
. Well
. H
e marrie d m e jus t ou t o f hig h school
. Possibl y h e though t someon e woul d com e alon g an d carry
Mariann e off to the altar in the same way."
"Mariann e disabuse d m e o f tha t notion.
" Th e ma n ploppe d himself down comfortably, stroking his wife's hair as
he went

pas t her
. "Sai d she'
d man y whe n sh e wa s read y an d no t before
.
I didn't believe it, thought it was all just youthful exuberance, thought
she'd be tired of the work in a month. But she carried the day, convinced me.
Very convincing young woman, my daughter
. Sh e di d tak e a brea k i n th e middl e o f he r education
—
travele d throug h you r country
, kinsman
. Sai d sh e ha d alway s wanted to see it, know what it was like." He
smiled hugely, very proud for all his protestations. "What do we call you, my
boy, '"Your Excellency'? Just occurred to me that 'my boy'
probabl y isn'
t de rigeur."
"My name is Makr Avehl.
Macro vail.
It has a meaning 'as old and esoteric as your own, but I ignore that. If you
say it properly, it sounds vaguely Scottish and acceptable." He was hardly
following the conversation. So Marianne had traveled i n Alphenlicht
. I n wha t world

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, wha t tim e ha d tha t been
? He r father
, al l unaware
, boome d on
.
"Ha
. I lik e that
. Scottis h an d acceptable
, i s it ? Well
, an d what's unacceptable about Alphenlicht? Nothing I know of.
Sorr y I lef t th e place
, sometimes
. Though
, bac k then
, th e famil y though t there'
d b e conflic t o f som e kind
. You'v e don e well
, Prime Minister. Kept the villains at bay."
"We'v e ha d help, " smile d Mak r Avehl
, no t surprise d tha t they both interpreted this to mean help from the
U.S. Neither of them had known anything of the Cave of Light, or of the real
power of the Magi. Well, he hadn't expected that they would.
Bot h o f the m looke d up
, acros s th e meadows
, an d h e fol
-
lowed their eyes across the granite balustrade where a horse emerged from the
wood and galloped toward them over the pastures, the rider so well seated that
she seemed almost to be part of the animal. Mrs. Zahmani followed his glance,
nodded.
"Marianne. I knew she'd be coming in soon. First thing when she gets here for
the weekend is a ride, then next is a ride, then after that, a little
ride...." She laughed. "That love of horses. I outgrew it myself, when I was
about sixteen. Not so Marianne. Her love of horses has continued—despite
every-
thing." She shook her head, sad for some reason Makr Avehl was not privy to.
"Well, she'll be surprised when I introduce you and tell her how you found
us."
Mak r Aveh l wa s no t sur e o f that
. H
e wa s no t sur e o f muc h

at the moment, least of all what it was that Marianne would know, or be
surprised at. He himself had not really been sur-
prise d t o fin d he r fathe r an d mothe r stil l alive
, healthy
, stil l living the life of grace and elegance which had been mourned by the
Marianne he had known. He had started his search very nea r thi s place
, fo r Ella t ha d remembere d wha t Mariann e ha d said about her
childhood home though he, Makr Avehl, had not
. Havin g foun d th e parents
, i t ha d no t bee n difficul t t o fin d the daughter. After his
lengthy conversations with Ellat and
Aghrehond, he had not been really surprised by anything.
A whisper of sound drew his attention to the doors behind him, thrust open
from inside and held while a wheelchair was pushed from the house onto a ramp
and then down to the shaded lawn, a white-clad attendant moving beside it.
Makr Avehl frowned. The woman saw his expression.
"Marianne's half brother," she whispered in explanation. "It was a great

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tragedy. In fact, I sometimes cannot understand
Marianne still being so fond of horses."
"Paralyzed?" asked Makr Avehl. The shrouded figure made no movement except
that Makr Avehl saw the eyes shift toward him, as though the person there had
recognized his voice.
Stunned, he looked full into that immobile face. He knew that face, knew it as
well as he knew his own. Harvey Zahmani, who had tried so hard to kill
Marianne. Who had killed the couple standing beside him—in another world, in
another time.
"Completely paralyzed," the woman whispered. "He had jus t returne d fro m
a visi t t o you r par t o f th e world—th e tri p was a graduation
gift from his father. He had visited an aunt i n you r neighborin g country
, Lubovosk
. Hi s mothe r cam e fro m there
. H e ha d bee n hom e les s tha n a da y whe n h e an d Mariann e
went out riding..."
"Mariann e tol d u s i t wa s a pac k o f wil d dogs, " sai d Haur
-
vatat Zahmani. "No one had ever seen them before. No one ever saw them after.
They came out of nowhere. The first we knew was when Marianne came riding in.
Her horse was all lathered, but she was steady as a rock even though she was
only twelve at the time. Told us what had happened, where to find him. Thrown.
His head and back must have hit a stone.
He never walked again. Never spoke again." The man sighed deeply
, relivin g a n ol d tragedy
.

Makr Avehl did not answer. His eyes were utterly fixed upo n th e woma n
ridin g t o th e stair s h e stoo d upon
, fixe d upo n
Marianne, his Marianne. His hungry, predatory soul reached for her in glad
possession, his sagacious, ruminative self eager to learn of her, rejoice in
her....
She looked up at him, smiling slightly, welcoming, as though sh e ha d
expecte d him
, somethin g lightenin g i n he r eye s a s i f a shado w raised
, a lust y gladnes s showin g ther e whic h brough t th e bloo d t o
hi s cheeks
.
Behin d he r o n th e law n h e coul d se e wha t ha d bee n Harve
y
S . Zahman i i n th e wheelchair
, motionless
, powerless
, unabl e to do any harm, to anyone... ever.
Dee p inside
, Snak e whispere d a n unheede d warning
.

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