by Jeffrey Ford
The hunter broke through the tree line at the edge of the forest and out into the meadow. The moon was shining full, directly over the house. Willa was calling to him from the porch, as she did when he was late. He ran slowly, short of breath, beneath the stars, while from behind him, deep in the forest, came the sound of a dog barking.
In the days that followed, Cley said nothing to Willa about finding the veil. She did not know of his earlier life, and he did not want that to change. He thought often of getting rid of the green scrap, perhaps burning it in the fireplace late at night when the others were asleep. When he was in the forest, alone, he took it from his pocket and studied it. The wind of the Beyond had worn the fabric so thin that no face could now hide behind it. It was badly torn, and the entire edge was frayed. Every time he gathered it up to shove in his pocket, he feared it would crumble like a dead leaf.
Cley, Willa, and Wraith were sitting on the porch, their legs hanging over the side. It was midday, and the view out past the lake was incredible. Flowers of every color filled the meadow, and the clouds moved in the still water. Cley was telling a story about Misrix to the boy.
“That’s right,” said the hunter, “an island in the sky. It was all in Below’s mind.”
“And you flew in the demon’s arms?” asked Wraith.
“Over the Beyond, to the Palishize, a vast spiral of hollowed-out mounds, where I met a ghost who told me about dancing with his ghostly wife by the seashore,” said Cley, smiling.
“Were you afraid of the demon?” asked Wraith.
“Yes, but he saved my life more times than I can count,” said Cley.
“Where do you get this fluff, Cley?” asked Willa, leaning forward.
The hunter laughed. “I make it up to amuse myself.”
“None of it is true?” asked Wraith.
“It’s all true,” said Cley.
“I see a story coming right now,” said Willa.
“No, I’m done for today,” said Cley.
“I mean, out there,” said Willa, as she pointed toward the meadow.
Coming along the northern shore of the lake was a figure that was too far off to see clearly.
“The body scribe?” asked Cley.
“Too tall,” said the boy.
“Besides,” said the hunter, “he has not come for years now. I’d better go and get the pistol.”
“Get in the house, Wraith,” said Willa.
The hunter started out toward the lake. The Traveler kept advancing with long strides. By the time Cley reached the shore, he knew that the visitor was Ea.
Cley stood still as his old friend closed. He lifted his arm and waved. Ea waved back, smiling.
“Have you found Paradise, here?” asked the Traveler.
“I’ve been to Paradise, and now I’m back,” said Cley.
“I heard the wilderness thinking your adventure,” said Ea.
“Arla?” asked the hunter. “What has become of Arla Beaton?”
“She is as she is,” said the Traveler.
“Jarek, Cyn?” said Cley.
“They are very strong,” said Ea.
Walking back to the house, Cley told the Traveler that he had seen Below again. Ea laughed and slapped himself in the side.
“One time, in my conjuring pool, I saw you having tea with a demon,” he said.
“Conjuring pool,” said Cley, and laughed. “You’re full of tricks.”
Creepers sang in the meadow, and a night bird called from out of the forest. Cley lit his pipe with leaves from Ea’s pouch. The Traveler sat in the high-backed chair before the fireplace, and Willa and Cley were sitting on the floor with their backs to the flames. Curaswani’s screaming woman spewed green smoke. They did not know that Wraith was still awake in his bed in the corner.
When the bowl was empty, Ea handed the pipe to Cley, and said, “I came for a reason.”
“I know,” said Cley.
“Arla is not well. She will not live through the next winter,” said the Traveler.
“Is this my chance to reach Wenau?” asked Cley.
“It would seem,” said Ea. “We heard from an old man, a member of the Word, that you were here. The trip to Wenau will take you six months there and back. But I will guide you, and my son Jarek will return you.”
“I found the veil the other day,” said Cley.
“Good,” said the Traveler.
“You aren’t going away again, are you, Cley?” asked Willa.
“I may have to,” he said.
“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said.
“This is important, though. It is the reason I came to the Beyond. I’ve got to finish it,” he said.
“I don’t understand,” said Willa. She rose from the floor and left the room.
“There will not be another chance, Cley,” said Ea.
“Dad?” said Wraith from the corner.
“Yes,” said Cley.
“Don’t go away.”
“Go to sleep,” said Cley.
The hunter then got to his feet and went into the bedroom. The weary Traveler smiled, searching the flames for the face of Arla Beaton. Wraith eyed the huge man in the chair through lowered lids.
“Please turn over and let me speak to you,” said Cley, as he lay on the bed beside Willa.
He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. She turned to face him.
“What is it you are going to find?” she asked, a hint of anger in her voice.
“It is a very old debt,” said Cley. “I don’t want to leave you two here, but this will be my last chance to set things right. I will find out who I am,” he said.
“Where do you know this woman from?” asked Willa.
“The past,” he said.
“Why do you need to see her?” she asked.
“Listen to me,” said Cley. “Just listen, and I will tell you everything …”
The next morning at breakfast, Ea told Cley, “We must leave soon if we are going to make the mountain pass before it becomes choked with snow.”
Cley looked over at Willa. “What do you say?” he asked, secretly hoping she would tell him not to go. Since telling her the entire saga of his life as the Physiognomist, he felt free of it.
Willa sat with tears in her eyes. She said, “You must go.”
The day before they were to leave, Cley took Wraith hunting in the forest.
“I don’t understand,” said the boy.
“Don’t worry, I’m coming back. I promise,” he said. He had a brief memory flash of having told Anotine the same thing as she lay on the path next to Dr. Hellman.
“What if you don’t?” said Wraith.
“There is no question that I will,” said the hunter. “Let’s find a deer, now.”
They crouched together behind a blind of tall ferns, having tracked a large buck through the underbrush for two miles. Now that it was time to take a shot, Cley gave the bow to Wraith.
“Remember,” whispered Cley. “You’ve got to watch with both eyes.”
With the arrow in place, the boy slowly stood, and pulled back on the string. He held the shot for a moment, aiming, and his form looked perfect. Cley thought to himself, “He will be fine.”
Wraith released, but the arrow sailed harmlessly over the buck’s head and embedded itself in the trunk of a pine tree. With two bounding leaps, the animal was gone.
Neither of the hunters spoke for the rest of the afternoon. Only on their way back to the house through the gathering dusk did Wraith turn to Cley.
“By the time you return,” said the boy, “I will be able to make that shot.”
“I know you will,” said the hunter, and put his hand on Wraith’s head.
“If you don’t return after the winter, I will come for you,” said Wraith.
Cley could not speak. He moved on toward the edge of the forest. When they reached the meadow, the boy ran ahead to the house.
It was early morning, and Willa and Wraith were still asleep. The hunter wore h
is hat and held his bow and quiver. His pack was filled with food and the tools of survival. He looked around the room, at the fireplace, Pierce’s old broom leaning against the table, Wraith sleeping in the corner.
“The time has come,” said Ea.
Cley walked over and leaned down to kiss the boy. Willa appeared at the entrance to the other room. She was smiling.
“Please be careful,” she said. She took Ea’s hand in hers. Then she went to Cley and touched his shoulder.
“When you fire the pistol …” said Cley.
“No more about the pistol,” said Willa. “I’m a better shot with it than you are.” She laughed.
The hunter smiled. “Yes, I’m an old man,” he said.
They embraced.
The door opened, and Willa watched Cley and Ea heading off toward the north.
Cley’s years by the lake left him in poor shape for a journey. Ea, too, was now much older, and did not move with the same grace as in his youth. The companions made slow progress, taking much the same route that Vasthasha had on Cley’s journey to save the Beyond. Two months passed them in the opposite direction before they came to the foot of the mountain range they must cross.
It took three arduous days to ascend to the head of the pass, which was the only route through the maze of towering stone giants. As the temperature began to plummet, they made camp one night at the mouth of the mountains’ gullet. After they ate the wild goat Cley had killed that afternoon, they sat by the fire, talking aimlessly about the past.
When Cley brought out his pipe, Ea said, “Along the way today, I found some of these.” He held out his hand and showed Cley six little brown pellets.
“Rabbit turds?” asked Cley, and smiled.
“Put them in the pipe,” said Ea.
“I’ve smoked my fill of shit in this life,” said Cley, waving a hand at Ea’s offering.
“They are the seeds of a weed that grows only in these lonely mountains,” said the Traveler.
“What will I see in the smoke?” asked Cley. “I’m tired of the consciousness of the wilderness.”
“It does not tire of yours,” said Ea.
The smoke of the seeds was bitter, but also very relaxing. Before Cley took his third toke, he was ready to bed down.
“Are you tired?” asked Ea.
“Exhausted,” said Cley, as he leaned back and pulled the blanket over himself.
The hunter’s body lost all its tension. The muscles and joints that had ached for days now, miraculously, had no complaints. He felt warm and tired, on the verge of sleep. Before drifting off into a dream of arriving at the true Wenau, he had two very vivid thoughts. The first was brief. He was back at the house by the lake, in bed with Willa. She lay facing him, her breasts against his chest, her hand on his back, her quiet, steady breathing near his ear. He ran his open palm down the skin of her shoulder, her side, her hip.
The second thought, briefer still, was of Wraith, aiming the old bow. He released the arrow and it flew over the leaf-strewn ground, threading between two tree trunks, and struck the buck directly in its heart. The beast released its life in a torrent of steam, and, as it fell, Cley fell into Wenau and landed beside the reclining form of Arla Beaton.
The next morning the companions woke before sunrise.
As they prepared to leave Cley found, in his pack, the green veil. He took it out and opened it, laying it flat upon his upturned palm.
“See, here,” he said to Ea.
The Traveler smiled. “Your square of Paradise.”
Cley lifted the veil in both hands and held it up to cover his face. Through it, he saw the wilderness clearly, save for a green tint that slightly changed the color of everything.
“Are you ready, Cley?” asked Ea.
“No,” said the hunter. “I’m not going.”
“We’ve come so far,” said Ea.
“I’m sorry,” said Cley. “It has been very fine to see you again. I wish I could see Arla before she dies, but I need to return. I’m needed more urgently elsewhere.”
“There will be no other opportunities,” said the Traveler.
“I know,” said Cley. “I’m going home.”
Ea stood in silence for a long time, watching the hunter lift his pack and sling it over his shoulder. Cley still held the veil in his hand. “It is your decision,” said the Traveler.
Cley walked over to his friend from Wenau and shook his hand. “Thank you,” he said.
“The wilderness loves you, Cley,” said Ea.
“I couldn’t tell,” said the hunter, and they both laughed.
“I should make it back before the snow,” said Cley.
“You will,” said Ea.
The hunter turned and began to walk away.
“Cley,” called Ea. “I have to give you a message from Arla.”
Cley stopped but did not look back.
“She is dead,” said Ea. “She died a few months before I came to see you. We knew you were living by the lake with the woman and the boy. The old tattoo master of the Word told us everything. In her last days, she made me promise to come to you and offer passage to Wenau. She told me, ‘If he makes the long journey here, he should find my grave. Only if he turns back, and goes to the woman and the boy, are you to tell him that I forgive him for everything.’”
Cley began walking again. He knew it would be a long and difficult journey, and he did not need the extra weight. Holding the veil above his head, he opened his fingers, and the wilderness took it from him.
all in the choosing
I tried to explain to them that it was folly to attempt to hang a man with the power of flight, but they continue building the gallows. If I look out the barred window at the back of the cell, I can see it under construction. Yes, I have been found guilty—sentenced to death. This is to be my last night.
I could bend the bars on that window like they were long blades of grass and take to the sky in less than a minute, but I won’t. The instant I pass through the portal to freedom, I will again be a creature. It is all in the choosing.
Spencer had a choice to make, too, and he was about to pronounce his decision, when Frabone stood up and interrupted the proceedings. Everyone in the court turned and looked at the wretch.
The constable was clearly angry at his intrusion.
“Before you slam the desk, sir, I have one more piece of evidence to present,” said the prosecutor. “It will give the truth.”
“The truth,” said Spencer, and smiled. “I doubt it.”
“In the name of Justice,” said Frabone.
“No,” said Feskin.
“He’s had his day, Feskin, I agree, but I want to see this evidence for my own decision. Stay calm, I’m still at the tiller,” said Spencer.
Feskin leaned over to me, and whispered, “This won’t be good.”
“What part has been?” I asked.
Frabone stepped to the side of the room so that both judge and citizens could see him at once. He wore a look of death with ambition as he held up his hand for everyone’s attention.
“Yesterday afternoon,” said the prosecutor, “in this court, as the defendant was being escorted to his cell, he was approached by a girl who slipped a note into his hand. My associates witnessed this and warned me of it. I instructed them to follow the little girl, keep her under surveillance until the trial was over.
“They followed her home and watched her house for an hour before they discovered she was gone. They gently persuaded her mother to reveal the daughter’s destination. She finally told them that Emilia had taken a horse and gone to the ruins.
“My associates hired horses and rode through the forest, over the fields of Harakun to the Well-Built City. It was evening when they approached the remains of the old wall. A hundred feet off the ruins, they apprehended the girl. She was on her horse, and she carried something under her arm. My associates investigated this object and found it to be a box done up with fake jewels. It had sat on the demon’s writ
ing desk, back in the Well-Built City.
“When they opened the box, they found this inside,” said Frabone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the green veil. “Guilty,” he said, and stood there holding it in the air for all to see.
The doors opened then, and two of Frabone’s associates escorted Emilia into the court. She was shown to a spot near the constable’s desk, and she stood there, looking at the floor.
The prosecutor approached her, and said, “You were taking the veil in order to destroy evidence, weren’t you?”
Emilia looked up. She stared at the back of the room. “I went to the ruins to get the box for Misrix. He told me that it was special to him. That is why I went.”
“At least, if you are innocent, you found the evidence we needed when you took the box,” said Frabone.
“The veil as I have told you over and again,” said Emilia, “was not in the box.” She glared at the prosecutor. “I told you, I was coming through the ruins, and I saw it floating downward through the air. It drifted almost to my hand but the wind tried to grab it away at the last second. I was too fast for it. I put the veil in the box before leaving through the wall.”
“Emilia,” said Frabone, coming close to her, and laying his hand on her shoulder, “we know that is a lie.”
This was a defining moment for me. The urge to tear Frabone’s head off was very great all throughout the trial, but when Emilia’s composure crumbled and she began to cry, Feskin had to put his arm across my chest to hold me steady. They never got another word out of her. She cried for a half-hour in front of the town of Wenau, and when she was finally ushered out of the building, she was still weeping uncontrollably.
The allegations, as I have told you, are not true. Frabone wants to convince you that I murdered Cley. I have shown you Cley. Does he not live? He is remembering me, right now, somewhere in the Beyond.
Before I sat down to record these final thoughts for you, I heard a voice outside the back window of my cell. I pulled myself up on the bars and looked down. Emilia was standing there, looking up at me.
