One turn to me and call above the noise, ‘They clear soon. No have frighten.’
Comprehend this poory, but I say, ‘I be Maria now?’
Child look like he scary from no answer, but he nod.
My heart clear sweet. I say, ‘My brother, can I get that rifle?’
He startle in his eyes. Be a skinny male, look mostly fifteen like myself. And he look troubling round, like someone rescue him from this confusion. Then he try, ‘No need. We rifle for you.’
‘Want your rifle,’ I say. ‘Damn, I asking this.’
Ain’t expect result, but he go meek. Reach his gun. I take its weight, its loving coldness. Try to nod my friendship to him, but he turn away. Then I look to Pasha with some pride, but he watch forward at the altercation. So I hold the rifle different ways in privy joy. Ain’t right as my Kalash, but still is bold in heaviness. Its trigger loop fit to my finger sweet.
Then the skirmish clearing, we walk on. I hold the rifle to my waist, walk glad in weapon bravery. When we catch again into some fool commotion, I crouch down. Reach beneath my fluffet skirt, unhook my heely shoes. Twist these off, and sigh joyeuse. Crouching there, the yells be dull among all standing bodies. I catch a trodden flower in my hand, and remember how I going to live. Ain’t be my last flower, and I laugh toward the dirty street and feel my bony rifle and my flower and my life.
In this gratty moment, I dream how I can escape. But Sengles catch in mind – must wait until they bringing safe. And, strange behind this, come a ravish memory of our war. Truth, we want this city and its thousands. They fight for the cure. Then all my blood exhilarate, is like careening light within.
I look up dizzy and find Pasha narrowing on me. He shout through the noise, ‘They give you gun?’
‘Nay, I ruling here,’ I shout. ‘Take what I like.’
‘Give me.’
I stand up glad on naked feet and hand the rifle easy. Then my loot be by. We moving forward, Pasha got my rifle at his other side. Keep it ready, like he done in all our Massa journey. Redcoat guards squint at the roo disliking, muttern Panish. But I ain’t minding this. Ain’t even scarcely miss my gun. I watch on Pasha, how his naked chest look chickenish in the cold, and feel some vasty love. Love the frosten air and love my bare feet on the gritten road, yo this whole moron city shout my love in millions, ring the sky.
When we come to the Ministerio steps, guards start to filter back, and all relief be thankful. I hitch my dress and scramble up the steps like eight joyeuse. Pasha running after, gun caught easy like he do. Another range of guards be there, they open doors to us, and then we be inside, like falling in a bed of silence. No one even there. My feet come smooth onto the tilen floor.
Then I grab Pasha’s arm. He turn to me, his face uncanny soft. I say, ‘We living, roo. You even guess that this can happen?’
‘Yes.’
I laugh up wild and grab him round his chest. Crush him hard, and he begin to laugh, a beagling sound. He arm me round and heft me in the air, until I kick his leg. Then he loose me, and I stand with hands up to his shoulders, saying, ‘Shoo, I save your life. We fair now, one for one.’
Pasha laugh and touch my cheek, his face go drunk with feeling. Eyes be lit and starry, grin confuse with my same love.
Then behind, a glassen door come open. I look round, still grinning, feeling happy to all children made. But then I see, is Anselm.
Only in this moment, I recall my robben enfant. Pasha stiffen hostile by, his face gone strange feroce. As Anselm come up smiling, I touch conscious to my belly. All my various temperaments gone dizzying, joy and rage and grief.
‘Santa Maria,’ Anselm say, and stoop himself somehow.
I grit my breath and say, ‘Should call me Ice Cream like a person.’
Anselm straighten up, touch fingers to his hearten chest. ‘A first point of etiquette. When people greet Maria, they expect to kiss her ring. That’s the routine.’
‘Ain’t interesting what you expect. Yo, where my Sengles be?’
‘Your people, yes.’ Anselm make mischief smile. ‘Your apostles are in your rooms, although they’ve scattered into hiding. They don’t seem to like each other much.’
‘Yo sho, they hide. You capture them with guns, what else they done? And where my other Sengles?’
‘Everyone you want will come. Please trust that, santa reina. Now I was wondering – it’s very selfish of me, but I was hoping I could speak to you alone. Is that possible?’
‘Ain’t going to kill us now?’
‘Oh, no.’ He shake his head like this be some ridiculous.
I look to Pasha, who be heeding narrow. ‘You bone here, Pasha? Going to parley.’
Pasha make sour face. ‘Want rifle?’
‘No,’ say Anselm quick. ‘That really won’t be necessary. Maria?’
‘Yo, we can talk. Ain’t guess you going to like this talk.’
‘That’s very kind. I think we can find a private space, if you’ll just follow me.’
He lead me to the elevator hall, is talking boringness about my rooms. How this be the top three floors of this whole Ministerio. I sharing these with my apostles, ya and Jesus bringing there. These floors be callen the iglesia, and he go in blablabla about their wonder furnitures. Soon my mind distract to thinking how I going to fear this Anselm. Be dreaming how I bring him to my rooms, and all apostles beat him, when he say, ‘Maria. Are you listening?’
‘Nay, ain’t listening. What you need?’
He hold up a scrap of metal. Narrow on this well, I recognize its use. A key.
‘You use this key to call your elevator,’ Anselm say. ‘The other elevators won’t go to your floors. It’s to ensure your privacy.’
I reach for the key, but he draw back his hand. ‘No, santa reina. This is mine. I’ll have yours sent up later.’
He plug this key into a golden plate upon the wall. Elevator swallow its doors. I go in reluctant, still be chewing on my angers. This elevator bigger than the other, almost roomen size. Got velvet walls and hanging pictures. Anselm step in and poke a button. Doors knit up, the elevator start to drift above.
I take my breath. ‘Yo heed. I got–’
‘No, wait.’ Anselm hold hand up sharp. ‘First, I need to congratulate you. Your proof went well, didn’t it?’
‘Sure, be alive. Can see this.’
‘Yes, it was lucky, wasn’t it? Now hold on.’ Anselm turn and poke another button. Elevator shudder and stop. I look to the doors expecting that they open, but is nothing. Be unfriendly silent in this closen place, feel like a deafness.
‘So.’ Anselm smile back to me. ‘I was interested in your impressions. For instance – were there any moments when you felt nervous?’
‘Nervous. Nerviose, I guess? Been nervous since I met you people.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. But you didn’t feel uncertain about one apostle in particular?’
‘How you meaning?’
‘I’m meaning that Felipe seemed very – nerviose. To me.’
I frown on him closer. ‘You was there?’
‘Front-row seat, senyora. I am the director of the Ministerio, naturally I was there.’
‘Yo sho, Felipe mostly ruin his pants with fear. If he got pants.’
‘Yes, and I think he was surprised at the outcome, don’t you?’
‘What you saying? Damn.’
‘Well, Felipe seemed very confident that God was going to strike you.’ He frown like he consider this question. ‘Perhaps it was religious conviction.’
‘You saying, he thought his cup been poison.’
‘If you want to put it that way.’ Anselm make a blissen smile. ‘I, however, wasn’t surprised at all. Why do you think that is?’
I make a face. ‘You pour this wine?’
‘Oh, no, senyora. They do that themselves, of course.’
‘Foo, you going to tell me or you ain’t. Boring, these confusions.’
Anselm look politeness to this. Seem he expect that
I will ask again, but I go stare beyond. Pull on my pearlen headband. Start to find the pins is holding this, and tug them out.
At last, he sigh and say, ‘Well, like most impossible things, it was a matter of money.’
I shrug, tug out another pin. ‘You paying this Felipe?’
‘Oh, no. We paid a gentleman who provides poisons.’
My hand pause in my hair. ‘Someone who providing poisons?’
‘Yes, senyora. A gentleman who’s very far away right now – and very rich. After all, Felipe paid him also. Now, you may know that some poisons are completely tasteless and odorless. Some are also harmless. This one was the poison we call water.’
Now Anselm gaze on me with bright congratulation smile. I magine how Felipe buying poison – how he think. But be a jar of normal water. He pour this, trembling, in his wine. Go scary to my murder.
Can feel, is vally mischief, but my eyes got only hatred. Yo it notice behind Anselm on the wall, a painten picture hang. Show a girl with armen enfant. Both got gold circles drawn around their heads, and the baby reach up thoughtful to his mother’s face.
‘In a case like this,’ say Anselm, ‘we usually say “Thank you”.’
I say cold, ‘You save myself, is gratty. But you kill my enfant.’
The happy vanish from his face. He knit his hands together, eyes gone tight. ‘Of course. I shouldn’t have forgotten.’
‘Forgotten? You forget your killing easy.’
‘No.’ His voice come thin. ‘I forgot that you don’t understand.’
‘I understand enough. You–’
‘No, I’m sorry. You really don’t.’
Then we glaring one to one. His chubben face be gathern in some mally telligence. Notice to me how his beardskin gone in stubble, this passen night. Shaven head be grown the same, confuse the spidery drawings there like dirt.
‘Please listen,’ he say cold. ‘I’ll make this short, and hopefully we will never have to mention it again. There are many, many things you can do as Maria. Having a baby is not one of them. Let me repeat: you cannot have a baby. I saved your life not once but twice yesterday. Now, an ordinary person would say, “Thank you, Anselm. Thank you for saving my life, not once but twice.” But you are Maria, so whatever you do is right – it’s the will of God, and I do not question it.
‘Now, I know that you are a virgin, and you will stay a virgin, because you are Maria. Therefore you could never be pregnant again. That cannot happen. And because I feel very strongly that it cannot happen, I had the doctors make sure it cannot happen – at considerable risk to myself. Now, an ordinary person might say, “Thank you, Anselm. I can see you’ve done me an incredible favor.” And I hope, someday, when you understand this better, I will hear that thanks from you.
‘The reason you will thank me is that, even after you stand your proof, there is one thing that can make you a false Maria. If you are not a virgin. So please don’t give anyone the idea that you aren’t a virgin. A false Maria must be killed, and we would all like to relax now. I hope you agree.
‘Regrettably, a few people know about this incident. Someday, one of them may talk. If that day comes, I will deny it. It will be my word against theirs, and I will win that contest. Unless – I hope you’re listening now – unless I change my mind about you.’
‘Nay.’ I shake my head, unnerve. ‘They doctors doing what?’
Anselm sigh out heavy. ‘It’s a tiny piece of metal. In a day or two, you won’t even feel it.’
‘Metal?’ I startle cold. Touch to the cloth against my belly. ‘Inside myself?’
‘It won’t do you any harm. It’s very small.’
I grip the lacen cloth. Look scary to the picture, enfant reaching to his mother. Get a troubling feeling, if these golden circles mean they dead. ‘Cannot get no enfants?’
‘That’s what I’m telling you.’
‘But can this fix?’
‘It can. But it won’t.’
I shake my head again. ‘Nay, why you want to ruin me so?’
‘I just told you. Senyora, were you listening?’
‘Yo I know. You saying.’ I try to figure reasons, but all my mind be on this artifact. Little piece of metal, some unperson thing inside. Yo if we leave this place, is done. Never I going to fix, ain’t even Lowells know this stranger science.
Anselm say, soft in my thought, ‘You won’t appreciate this, but we risked a great deal ourselves by doing this. It’s a very serious crime here.’
I take a ragged breath. ‘Preventing enfants, right. Seriose crime you do to me, first day I come.’
‘I promise, this is not how we usually welcome visitors to Marias.’
‘And now you know I got this thing, you kill me any time you like. What you saying.’
‘I’m sorry. I wish I trusted you to make your own decisions. But I don’t.’
‘Damn, what you even want from me?’
‘I want this city to be run responsibly. You can’t do it. You don’t know anything. You cannot make the decisions you need to make. And, as of this moment, you are – in name – the ultimate power here.’ He make a narrow smile. ‘Another problem that’s been solved. Thank you, Anselm.’
‘Foo, it need no threats. You want to give me help, I heed.’
‘That’s funny. I seem to remember you didn’t listen to my last piece of advice.’
‘On Pasha?’ I scoff breath. ‘Is differences. This been a life.’
‘Maria,’ he say soft, ‘there are four hundred thousand people living in the lands you govern. And if you last with us, you’ll see some of those lives lost, through decisions we have to make. Your Russian boyfriend is only a detail from my point of view. I’m sorry.’
Take me thinking time to even comprehend this speech. Then I want to cavil – say I never care to rule this city – but my conscience stray to Quantico, and every hope be rotten.
I look back sorry at that enfant picture, and Anselm frown. He turn and look himself. Huff breath and say, ‘Well, that’s unfortunate.’ Then he reach and poke a button. The elevator shift again.
I feel some sick relief. ‘We finish, ya? Can see my children?’
‘Soon.’ Anselm sigh. ‘But you have a ceremony first. It’s the signing of the clause, to reinstate our glorious apostles. So – if it’s not too rude to ask – I do hope you can write?’
42
THE PARLEY FOR MY WAR
Ceremony be in trono room, a hall enorme. Got ceiling painten rich with blue and clouds and flying enfants. Be flower trees in silver jars, make rows along the tallish walls. Between this, all the floor be empty – dapple tile and nothing. Only is one goliath chair, of carven gold and gems.
This be Maria’s trono, where I sit in tall discomfort. Apostles kneel below, still in their silvern garb of proof. Robes wash on the tiles around, look like they spilt somehow. Ya, Anselm spilt along, in duller brown.
They start by chanting unison, a Panish prayer of endlessness. Through this, I feel a lonely conscience, how my children wait above in my iglesia rooms – Driver and El Mayor; my Keepers Eight in noise familiar. All my hurt insist toward them, as the Panish moan, the painten enfants flirt their wings above.
I distract the time by finding snake Felipe with my eyes. Want to feel my fear again, like touching a wound to check its pain. But he seem small unconfident, knelt in his silvern wash. Then I seek Simón Zelote – the child in soldier clothes who weep terrific at my questioning. Look and look, but cannot find, until I doubt my wits. But when I count their numbers, be eleven. He ain’t there.
Ain’t time to wonder this, when Pedro rise up from their line. He carry a slice of whitish papers. Silver pen be lain across. Come toward me, prayering still, and stoop himself as he come close. When I take the papers, the apostles all stand up and hush.
All this signing be, must write my name. Ain’t my Ice Cream name, is now ‘Maria XXVII, SR de la C. de las Marias’. Name be printen in the signing place, need only copy this. Yo, Anselm said I
must make show of reading. This be drill. So I page through with scarce attention, fidgeting the pen – until I spy the line on war.
It read: ‘The apostles above named have the power to declare war and to decide the military strategy of Ciudad de las Marias, independently from any other person or body.’
Here I put the pen down sharp. Read the line again-again, until its meaning clear. Then I scout through all the pages, look for other talk of war. Can feel the time prolong, feel the apostles’ scalding eyes, while I frown through all longhead words. Ya, be no other mention. Is only this – all war be theirs.
When I look back to them, apostles tired in frustration. Anselm fixing on me mally. Threats watch from his eyes.
‘I write my name,’ I say, ‘then it be done? Your powers keep?’
Anselm say in voice like poison honey, ‘That is the point.’
‘Then nay. Is something I must ask before.’
A groaning sigh go through them all. Even Pedro grit his face, clutch silver dress in both his hands.
‘Please, santa reina,’ Anselm say. ‘I think you have our full attention.’
I start the parley for my war with tactic carefulness. First, I say how roos maraud in Massa now, steal every child. Tell every evidence I know: the radio speech, the photographs, the guns that Pasha–Deema bring. And I explain the cure its promise – how roos live to seventy years, like sleepers of the past.
Can see from Anselm’s eyes that he already heard this news. Pedro look the same, and be some others, though their names forgot. Must figure Soledad told them every fact, this passen night. But snake Felipe stare at me in daze, like all his blood be mysteries. Bright superstitions woken in his eyes.
Yo, when I tell the plan for war with Quantico, they all change tempers. Faces grit misliking. They start frowning each to each. Feel in myself, how Quantico been their yeary enemy. Is like I begging Sengles that they fight for Armies, old in hatred. I hear my voice come beggarish, and I haste to my end. ‘So I require a war from you. Must fight the roos from Nighted States and take their useful cure. Hope you agreeing this, for all our lives.’
The Country of Ice Cream Star Page 33
