Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven

by Anthony Bartlett

  Koyo kept whimpering, “My master good! My master good!” But no one cared. The sight, the sound and the smell of the inferno and what was inside it held everyone captive in its power. Even Koyo's fury seemed abated by the blaze and Pascale and Danny stopped holding onto her.

  The fire's heat made everyone fall back to a wider circle and Pascale and Danny found themselves on their own for the first time.

  Pascale said, “I haven't had the chance to thank you, Danny. You and Palmiro saved my life. Also for opening up the cabin. That was a hard, terrible thing to have to do.”

  “I'm glad it's burning to the ground. It's the worst thing I've ever seen.”

  “I know, Magada is very angry. There is a lot of anger in this fire.”

  They were both quiet for a while. Then Danny said, “Let's go and set the fire for Zena, and we'll make it a more peaceful one"

  The sister and brother walked back to the tent. Francisco had seen the fire and he spoke, seeming at first to quote. “The smoke of the land went up like the smoke of a furnace.... May I have some water please? If you just fill a cup I believe I can manage.”

  They gave him water and he was able to grasp the beaker with the stumps of his arms. Greta and Alaqua had now arrived and Pascale asked them to help her and Danny carry Zena. The four together lifted the sheet with the body of the woman, the daughter of university lecturers and the first canyon resident to tell her story. They brought her to the bonfire and with a lot of clambering and shoving they got the body into place on the platform. Danny walked the fifty paces to the smoldering wreck of Magus' cabin and picked up a timber that had fallen from the roof. He went back to the pyre with the glowing brand aloft. Zoltan, Ravel and Katoucha saw what he was doing and came with him.

  He thrust the torch into the base of the pile and stood back. A wisp of smoke rose from the dry sticks and slowly the pile caught fire. As the flames began to lick upward, the rest of the crowd that had been watching the destruction of the cabin turned and moved instinctively toward the other pyre. The mood was a peculiar mixture of horror and happiness. The world had come to an end with the death of Magus and yet everyone was still here and, it seemed, more fully and truly than before. Their rapt gaze and strange emotions shifted quite naturally to another violent death and its purifying fire. Zena was innocent and nothing like the monster that Magus was, in fact she was his victim. But somehow the deaths seemed wrapped up together. All the horror and disgust surrounding Magus had gone up in smoke, but now all that was made doubly pure by the fire and smoke engulfing Zena.

  The community of the canyon gathered around the bonfire and as the flames rose higher, Pascale decided to speak. She raised her voice to a pitch where all could hear her.

  “Zena did not like heights but this morning she climbed the cliff for the first time. Zena was a prisoner in the canyon but this morning she gained her freedom. She never had the life she wanted, she wanted to be a mortal. This morning she found the life she wanted.”

  “I came to the canyon, sent by forces which put a murderer and torturer in charge of people who would not fit in. Zena was my first friend here. The first to talk to me. The first to help build our tent. Today she was the best friend I ever had, when she overcame her great fears in order to protect me. Because of her Magus was distracted and was not able to capture me and Danny. Magus shot her and she fell. Her life was spent for me and truly for all of us.”

  “Magus’ reign has come to an end. His violence rebounded on him. When he fired the gun at Zena he started a chain reaction that brought his own death. But his reign cannot truly be over if we carry his death inside us, if our anger lives on, if the fire that consumed him consumes us.”

  “That does not have to be, for here before us is a much different fire, one we can truly take to our hearts. It is not the fire itself that counts, but Zena's love that it represents. Zena willed herself to love even when it was most dangerous. She embraced a love which taught her to fly when she thought she never could. And it set her free from fear even as she fell. The fire of love gives wings to our hearts and lifts us even when we fall.”

  Pascale pointed upward to where the now raging flames disappeared in a rich plume of smoke. People followed her gesture and continued to gaze into the late afternoon sky where the light was already diffusing and the smoke rose in it like a single gray pillar on which the whole sky rested. No one spoke. They simply remained there, watching the smoke and hearing the echo of Pascale's words, whether they could grasp them or not. After a while some people moved back to the tent and sat down. A few went over to the cantina.

  Danny thought the moment had come to rescue Stardust. He went back to the tent, found a water canteen and set out directly to the steps in the cliff. He made the climb, thinking that the last person to ascend them was Zena and so much had changed, and so dramatically, since. When he got to the top Stardust, who was tethered to a small tree, whinnied with relief. He went up to her, stroked her and gave her water, apologizing for being away so long. He untied her and climbed in the saddle. He still had Magus' keys and was sure one of them would open the gates to the canyon.

  As he swung Stardust around he glanced out at the rugged wilderness to the south where the shadows were already etching the western walls of the mesas. He saw the spiral of smoke from the fire rising straight up, and realized that it was composed of two threads, one fainter than the other and leaning over and winding itself around the stronger one. He thought that the main plume had to be from the more recent fire, from Zena's, and the other must be the remains from Magus'. They had come together to form one solitary finger above the land. He wondered if anyone in Heaven would notice.

  8. PLAGUE BRINGER

  The morning after the Font Eterno Immersion Palmiro woke early. There were a couple of essential things he had to do. The previous night he had left a note for Eboni telling her he wanted to meet before breakfast, and she showed up promptly, anxious to find out everything that had happened. He told her about the journey to the canyon, about Pascale's decision to stay, and then the succession of events in which two people had been killed. Eboni was totally horrified and even more so when she heard the details of Danny's involvement.

  It was no longer a matter of trying to hide Pascale from the authorities, something impossible in the long run. For the first time in Heaven's story one of the Immortals, and a key one at that, had been attacked, and was actually dead. It was unthinkable, impossible. She almost fainted, sinking unsteadily to the ground. Palmiro got down next to her and set out his argument.

  “Listen, I know this is a bad shock, but we just can't sit back and wait for the other shoe to drop. We need to do something to distract people from news coming out of the canyons. Then perhaps they won't get so crazy and we'll have a chance.”

  “You're the crazy one,” Eboni reacted.” What could possibly stop people thinking about a shoot-out at the Ranch in which Magus was killed? It won't be long before inquiries are made, and they'll follow the trail right to here, to Danny and me.”

  “Danny acted in self-defense. Magus had already shot and killed someone he was supposed to be looking after. Pascale was in danger too. Look, there’s nothing we can do to change the facts, but I want to propose an idea. If you and I show ourselves to be devotees of the Font Eterno, opinion could easily swing round to our side.”

  Palmiro did not feel bad about duping Eboni. The whole thing was much bigger than a minor rebellion in the canyons and eventually she would come round to seeing that too.

  “What are you talking about now?”

  “Well, I was thinking. What if I was to volunteer to enter the Sea of Chaos along with Sarobindo and last as long as I could before the nuclear storm. It would look like I was giving respect to the greatest institution in the Heavenly Homeland.”

  Eboni gaped at him in disbelief. “First you persuade Danny to search for the Ranch, going against the whole of Heaven, and now you want to fake being a yogi, the most respected figure in Heaven?”
/>
  “Great isn't it? There couldn't be a better plan. People will find it very hard to think of us as subversives if I'm a trainee yogi!”

  At this point, with the charge of being terrorists hanging over them, Eboni really couldn't think of anything better. She let out a despairing sigh, but willing to grasp at straws.

  “And just how are you planning to do this: I'm sure you have something in mind? It’s not going to work but I suppose it's better than sitting around waiting for a knock at the door.”

  “Exactly. I want to go to the Font Eterno today and tell them I'd like to do an Immersion. If you have some friends you can get to come along and vouch for me then it will be harder for the organizers to refuse. Can you get a few people to come and meet me there early this evening?”

  She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Yeah, I'm sure I can persuade Cyrus to speak for you. Or, how about your precious Adorno?”

  “Please don't be difficult, you know what I mean.”

  “OK, OK, I guess I can round up a few. There's Chen Jin. And you never know, Omar might come along, just for the heck of it.”

  “Good. I'll meet you and whoever you bring at the service entrance early this evening.”

  Eboni was not convinced but she went along with it. She had a growing feeling she was now part of something with a life of its own; no one could stop it. Danny was in it up to his neck, and she had already decided that whatever his fate it would he hers too. She took her horse and rode directly to the Silk-Making Colony where Chen Jin lived. It did not take much to persuade him—a new volunteer for Font Eterno sounded pretty cool—and he agreed also to recruit Artemis and Omar at the Fabric Colony nearby.

  In the meantime Palmiro took the car. He planned to drive all the way to the Agora of the Baths and get back in time to meet Eboni and the others. He remembered from the dramatic night of his Initiation that no one had been carrying anything when the assistants first gathered in the end hall of the Baths. He’d decided the elements necessary for the ritual had to be all stored somewhere in the building. He intended to search the storerooms until he found the drug they administered to inductees. If he took just the right amount, he could perhaps drop his breathing rate and stay conscious long enough to do what he had to do. It would be a big risk, but he remembered he had not gone unconscious straight away. He had remained underwater and felt no strain. What he had to do would need very little time and the extra moments given him by the drug would provide all the window he required.

  He drove along the Appian Way with the morning sun behind him. The gentle lick of the tires on the highway contrasted with the bumping gait of the horse which over so many days had been all he'd known; he'd never really gotten the hang of it. For the first time as long as he could remember, he began to relax. He watched the tall trees drifting by, the occasional car or tram with their blandly smiling occupants, the glimpses of the pleasant colonies between the trees and across the hills. He thought, really, how beautiful it all was, how serene and uncomplicated. Why, after all, should not this be the end goal of human existence? If at least some were happy, why not let that be enough, and forget the rest? Why tip over the universe? He knew his answer at once. The reason was people like him, or Adorno, or even Danny. People who would not let things be. Simply that! People who were prepared to put everything at risk rather than accept something unfair, false, or pointless. Then there were other people who seemed to go even further, people who imagined a completely different way of being. People like Pascale.

  Ah yes, Pascale. He’d realized just yesterday that her opinion meant a lot to him. Maybe the reason was that he loved her! But what kind of love was it that did not wish to be with the beloved at every moment? Even he knew this was what love meant, and it was not what he wanted. At least he didn't think so. All he had desired, it seemed, was to learn from Adorno, and to use the knowledge he had gained to bring an end to immortality. But when he thought about it, he saw every step had been marked out for him by Pascale. It was Pascale who had brought him here to Heaven. It was her arrest and detention that had sent him to talk with Adorno, who had then pointed him toward research in the area of his own momentous discovery. True, he had wanted to become a second Adorno and was well on his way to fulfilling that dream, but had not Adorno somehow infected him with this? Had not his mentor gotten him to take the bait of scientific genius when really all he wanted was to save Pascale? Even now the plan he had made, was it not in order to cause an upheaval so wide-reaching that the inhabitants of the Ranch could be set free?

  He arrived at a junction and almost unconsciously he took the turn off the Sacred Way, leaving the route that led to the Baths. His thoughts of Pascale had brought Jonas to mind and he happened to be close to the road which led to the Colony of Historians.

  He followed the winding single track along the ridge, into the valley dotted with vineyards and up across the shrubland where the villa was situated. He had very little time but he thought he had a duty to Pascale's former lover, to let him know what had happened. He found him almost immediately, in the courtyard as he nosed the car through the gates. He was wearing a broad-brimmed floppy hat and seemed to be pruning the Manzanita trees. It was almost as if he were there waiting for him.

  Palmiro invited him to walk with him, saying he had to be quick. He gave a brief outline of Pascale's rescue, not leaving out the violence. He described her bizarre decision to remain in the canyons and how Danny had chosen to stay there with her. He said Eboni had the directions and if he, Jonas, could ride a horse he'd be able to get there easily. He told him that he was very hopeful about the situation overall and he was going to do some things he thought would make everything work out for the best.

  Jonas staggered and almost keeled over when Palmiro mentioned the fight with Magus and its fatal consequence. Palmiro had to reach out to steady him. When he had finished, Jonas shook his head and spoke in a hopeless voice. “Ever since I saw you last I knew it would only lead to trouble. And I doubt what you are planning, whatever it is, can make things better. You have no idea how determined the Immortals are when they make a decision. But, please tell me, did Pascale mention me at all?”

  “I'm afraid not. As I said there was very little time, and then Magus came.”

  Jonas seemed to be struggling with violent emotion. “Pascale was always a bird flying off to some strange place. Now the canyons have claimed her. Am I even a memory for her?”

  Despite himself Palmiro reached out his hand once more, placing it on the Immortal's shoulder. “Jonas, all I can tell you is you should go see her. You don't know what you are to her until you see her. Anyway, it may be safer there until the storm blows over.”

  “What storm'? What is it you are going to do?

  “Listen I've said too much. I've got to go. Get a horse and go see Pascale.”

  Palmiro walked directly to the car and drove away without looking back. He did not understand why he'd been letting himself get close to the Immortal; he didn't even like him and it was dangerous anyway. The man had to make his own choices, while he, Palmiro, had to complete the task before him. He got back on to the Sacred Way, and in little more than an hour and a half he arrived at the Agora of the Baths.

  As the honeyed stone of the walls and the encircling green of the cypress trees came into view, he was flooded by the most vivid sensations. Here was the setting in which he had first met Heaven. Here was where he had experienced his first reaction of anger and resentment, and where Pascale had argued that he could learn a lot from these people. And it was true. He had penetrated to the heart of their secrets and was returning to the Baths as a conqueror. Meanwhile, Pascale had willingly surrendered to one of the most depressing places he could imagine.

  He found the gate that led to the sandy courtyard at the end of the building, swinging the car in and shutting off the engine. The silence was immense. He felt like just sitting there and thinking, trying get to the bottom of all he was feeling. But there was no time. He had to keep
moving.

  He tried the handle of the apse door leading into the end hall: it was open—nothing was ever locked in Heaven. He made his way at once into the room where he had spent his first hours after arrival. He did not remember seeing cupboards in this room but he had to check; he needed a flashlight or flare of some sort to see his way into the main chamber. There was nothing there. After drawing a blank also in the room where Pascale had stayed, he continued down the hall, but again found nothing. He went back and grabbed the antique couch halfway down the hall, the one on which Jonas had slept, and dragged it up to the big ceremonial doors at the end, hauling them open and kicking the couch into the gap to prop them wide. The heady scent that had impressed him so much when he first pulled open the big doors returned once again, but it seemed less dominant. He felt he was able to detect the presence of drugs in it and he was no longer amazed. In fact, it told him he was close to his goal.

  The serene light of the hallway struck a path across the marble surface inside the door. Palmiro stepped in and waited until his eyes got used to the gloom. Although he wasn't intimidated any more, he still felt the awe of this place, the way it had shaped and made a universe. He could see the racks of veils and towels, and farther down he could see shelves filled with oil lamps and flasks. He made his way in the semi-darkness and picked out a lamp with a straight handle and plenty of oil. He fumbled along the shelves looking for some way to light it. He could find nothing, but then in almost pitch blackness he stumbled upon a low cupboard and, feeling inside, he found a flint lighter. After a couple of tries he got it to produce a flame which he then transferred to the lamp.

  He held his lamp aloft, glimpsing the lustrous pools of water behind him. They were like a dangerous black and golden animal slipping between the walls of onyx. A shiver of power flooded through the building, but he resisted the feeling. He walked further on and could see a row of doors along the far side of the hall beyond the pool. What he was looking for had to be inside one of them. He tried the first and found a room with a tiny window, a small table, a couch and several large cushions scattered on the floor. Throwing open two more doors he found the same thing, and then on his fourth try he found what he was looking for. He saw a long wall-shelf stacked with the flasks of liquid and the beakers used in the Initiation. Almost at once, a moment after he opened the door, there was an echoing shriek and a groan and long narrow shaft of daylight pierced across the pools and fell directly on him.