The Fissure King

by Rachel Pollack

  That's my defense? Jack thought, then immediately, desperately, hoped it would work

  The King said, "He abandoned the carnival and his benefactor, Mr. Green."

  "Only to apprentice himself to Anatolie the Younger."

  Joseph said, "And then he abandoned his teacher as well."

  "You know how that happened," Carolien said. "You can't blame him for that."

  "He abandoned Elaynora Horne." Pause. "And Carolien Hounstra."

  Jack thought, What? He waited for Carolien to object, but when she didn't he realized it was true. He'd left Carolien the moment he'd said yes to the Fissure King.

  Finally, Joseph said, "Most of all, he abandoned his daughter."

  Carolien said "Nooit. Never. He has never stopped trying to help her. To bring her out."

  "No?" the King said. "Then why did he wait until now, the desperate hour, to find me?"

  Jack wanted to yell at him "Because I didn't know about you!" but even to himself it sounded weak. I'm losing, he thought. They'll find me, what, unworthy? I won't get to take Joseph's place and he won't rescue Genie. It's all over.

  And then that voice came. Stronger, more terrifying than any of the times Jack had heard it. A sound that could shatter the world. "I am Margarita Mariq Nliana Hand! I have come to speak for the defense."

  The Ravens lowered their heads. "Your majesty."

  Jack turned to her, then cried out. This was worse than that first time, at the Forbidden Beach. Then she kept changing form, now she seemed little more than an outline, but within that sketched body the whole world moved. Images appeared, then vanished, like electrons in a cloud chamber, replaced by a flood of others. People being born, dying, loving, hating . . .

  Don't look away, Jack thought, but he had to. He focused on the Ravens as the Queen said, "John Shade has never abandoned me. I did not foresee this through my powers. I knew it. I knew John Shade, and I knew that whatever happened, whatever he witnessed, he would not give up on me. That is why I chose him to be the instrument of my death."

  "Margaret," Jack said, and braced himself to turn towards her and thank her. But she was already gone.

  When he turned back to look at the Ravens they stood absolutely still, their heads bowed, wings folded. Then all at once they opened their wings. Though they stood together their wings somehow didn't touch each other. Instead, they filled up the sky, like ladders to the nothingness beyond the world. The Foreman's voice came from high above. "John Shade, you have been found innocent, by virtue of the Queen of Eyes. Joseph of the Waters. Your petition is granted. John Shade may replace you. You are free."

  At last, Jack thought. He turned to Joseph. "Now," he said, "your turn." But instead of answering, instead of any action at all, Joseph of the Waters simply crumbled. The rags of meat disintegrated, the bones clattered to the ground, some of them chipped and broken. Then a moment later they turned to dust and were washed away by a surge of water.

  "No!" Jack said. "Come back here. You have to save Genie. We had a deal."

  Carolien's voice cut through his terror. "Jack," she said, "You don't need him."

  "Of course I do. He said he would save her. Now he's gone."

  "Jack. Look at your hands."

  "What?" He held his hands up in front of his face. At first he just saw the lines, the ones palmists talked about. Lifeline, heartline . . . But then he realized they were something else. Cracks, openings. Fissures, not just in his hands but all up and down his body. Through them he could see—lights, flickers, people, animals, flashes of other worlds. For a moment he saw swirls of fire and knew they were the Djinn. But then they were gone, drowned in the flood of openings.

  Staring down at his body, his legs, the endless cracks and ruptures, he managed to call out, "Carolien! Help me. I can't find her. I don't know where to look."

  He managed to see Carolien standing in front of him, but seemingly separated by layers of fractured glass. He could hear her, though. Her lips moved, and the words wound their way through the cracks, the fissures. "Jack," she was saying, "Please. You must listen to me. Use your hands. Ignore everything else. Let your hands find her. Remember what they taught us. What every Traveler learns. The eye can't hit what the hand can't see . . ."

  His voice somehow distant, he answered, "Dream like a butterfly, search like a bee." He raised his palms to his face. The cracks kept opening and closing, glimpses of worlds, but he paid no attention. "Genie," he said. "Where are you? Show me. I'm coming to get you."

  And there it was. A shimmering wall of energy that flickered in and out of existence. On the other side of it, a forest, the branches of each tree twisted, the trunk contorted. And all of them on fire. And pressed against the wall, a girl. She looked exactly the same as the last time he'd seen her, fourteen years old, terrified in a red dress and worn-out black Mary Janes. She was saying something, and though he couldn't exactly hear her he knew what it was. "Daddy! Where are you? Help me."

  At one time he would have thought nothing could penetrate that wall. But he was the Fissure King now, for whom every barrier is a door, every wall a crack. He reached out and felt the flickering energy. As he touched it, it hardened, only to break into countless lines and fragments. And now that he had cracked it, he could reach through it. He saw her gasp at the hands that appeared from nowhere, take a step back. Could she hear him? Could he still speak? "Genie!" he called, his voice strange in his own head. "It's me. I've come for you."

  "Daddy?" she said, then "Daddy! Help me."

  "Take my hands. Whatever happens, don't let go." She did it, and even though it had been years since he'd touched her he would have known those hands anywhere. "Get ready," he said.

  When Eugenia was nine she made up a game in the park. She would get on the swing and go higher and higher, and then call out, "Hey ho, what d'you know? Better get ready, cause here I go!" Then on the next upswing she'd let go and fly through the air until Jack caught her. She always said she would knock him down, but she never did.

  Now Jack called out to his daughter, "Genie! Remember this? Hey ho, what d'you know? Better get ready—"

  Genie's tight voice said, "Cause here I go?" Jack pulled hard now, and suddenly the fissures opened wide, and his daughter came through the barrier, so hard he nearly did fall. But he held her.

  "Daddy!' she cried, her face against his chest. Beyond her, the cracked wall, and the Forest itself, had vanished.

  "It's okay, I've got you," he said. How long? he wondered. How long before it became impossible, even dangerous, for him to hold on to her?

  He never found out, for she stepped back to look at him, then gasped. "Daddy? Your face. Your—what's wrong with you?"

  "Sweetie," he said, "listen to me." He glanced at Carolien, and gave thanks she was there. He said, "I'm going to have to go away for awhile."

  "No!" she cried.

  He went on, "But you're okay now. You're safe. This woman is named Carolien. You can trust her. Trust her absolutely."

  "Please, Daddy, don't leave."

  "I'm so sorry," he told his daughter. "I love you. I will always love you." To Carolien he said, "Take her to Irene. My rooms are paid up at least for a year. She can stay there for now."

  "Of course," Carolien said. "Or with me, as long as she likes."

  Jack was fading now, more and more of him slipping through the cracks. He saw that the modern world was coming back. The fierce waters had softened, the trees were neater, he could see streets and cars and buildings.

  Carolien called out to him, "Jack! Ik hou van jou." I love you.

  He said, "Ik hou ook van jou, lieverdtje." I love you too, darling. Just before he fell out of the world he thought, Fucking hell. I can speak Dutch.

  And then he was gone.

  Epilogue

  Eugenia Shade stood a long time outside the Lucky Star restaurant. She would take
a step towards it, then back. She looked at the blank apartment door next to it, then again at the restaurant window. Finally, she went inside.

  It was just the way Carolien had described it. Long, narrow, a few tables on either side, the counter at the far end. The woman sitting on a stool, reading a newspaper. Three customers, all Chinese men, different ages, on their own.

  She was suddenly conscious of how she looked, the way she hid herself. Jeans, sneakers, a black sweater, a long green coat, her hair pulled back and held with a clip. She could have cut it, of course, but if she did it herself it might come out terrible and people might stare at her, and if she went to a salon she would have to come up with some idea of what she wanted. When Carolien had taken her shopping, Eugenia had been afraid the Dutchwoman would want her to buy pretty things. To celebrate. Or something. But Carolien wasn't like that. Carolien never pushed her. Whenever she thought about that she wanted to cry, so she pushed the thought away. Stay focused, she told herself.

  The thing was, Eugenia knew what she looked like. As far as she could tell she looked exactly the same as when—Fourteen. Fourteen years old.

  She sure as hell didn't feel fourteen. She had no idea how old she felt. Carolien had told her how long she'd been inside, but it didn't mean anything. Twelve years. Twelve days. A hundred years. What difference did it make? Carolien had told her that a black guy had been president. Two terms! And now he was gone, replaced by some orange-haired white dude. She'd missed the whole fucking thing.

  She reached the counter and the woman said, "May I help you?"

  "Umm—are you Mrs. Shen?" The woman nodded, looked at her with curiosity, maybe suspicion. Genie took a breath. Caroline had offered to come with her, but she'd wanted to do it alone. Maybe that was a mistake. She said, "Uhh, I'm Eugenia Shade."

  For a moment Mrs. Shen stared at her, then her whole face changed. "Oh!" she said, "you're his daughter. Welcome!" She looked past Genie, to the door. "Is your father coming too?"

  "No. No, he's—out of town. For awhile."

  "Oh, a shame. Too long since we see him. Tell your father we miss him."

  Genie almost ran outside right then, but she managed to say, "Sure."

  "You want lunch? Whatever you like. No charge."

  "No. Sorry. I mean—Carolien—my father's friend—"

  Mrs. Shen grinned. "The big blonde lady."

  "Yes, that's right. Carolien said I should ask you what she wants."

  "Ah. Of course. Yes." Mrs. Shen took a moment, and when she spoke again, Genie could hear a sadness inside her cheerfulness. She said, "Sea cucumber and tree fungus. And har kow, of course. You sit. Ten minutes, no more."

  Genie sat at the nearest table. Across from her, one of the Chinese men, younger than the others, looked up at her, then went back to his noodles.

  Soon, Mrs. Shen gave her two cartons of food. "You give her this," she said. "She likes it."

  "Thank you. How much—"

  "For you, nothing. "

  "Thank you. Umm, is there a doorbell or something? I looked, but didn't see—"

  "No need. Door is always open. For Jack, now for you."

  For some reason, Genie bowed slightly, then felt herself blush. She said, "Thank you, Mrs. Shen," then rushed out.

  When she tried the door it was indeed open. Careful not to spill the food, she climbed the five flights. At the third landing she became dizzy, but Carolien had warned her about that, so she kept going. At the top she saw a metal door. She was about to knock when a sonorous woman's voice said, "Come in."

  Genie pushed the door open and stepped inside to see the largest woman she'd ever seen. The woman sat propped up against pillows on a thick mattress atop what looked like a reinforced steel bed. Genie wondered that the woman and the mattress didn't just fall through the floor. The woman wore a thigh-length dark red dress, silk maybe, and had thick dreads that came down the sides of her head, alongside her massive breasts, and somehow coiled together—like snakes, Genie thought—across her belly.

  Genie said, "Umm, I'm Eugenia Shade."

  "I know who you are."

  "And you're Anatolie."

  "Yes. I know who I am as well."

  "I brought you some food. From Mrs. Shen."

  "Thank you." She nodded at a wooden chair next to the bed. "Set it there, please." Genie did so, and found herself backing away. Anatolie said, "What can I do for you, Miss Shade?"

  Genie's hands were shaking, but she willed them to stop. She said, "I want to study with you. I want to become a Traveler."

  There was a long silence, and Genie had to fight an urge to run downstairs and not stop until she got to Carolien's house. Finally, Anatolie said, "Why do you wish to become a Traveler, Eugenia Shade?"

  Genie said, "I want to rescue my father."

  Acknowledgments

  My deep gratitude to Gordon van Gelder and C. C. Finlay, who first gave Jack Shade a home in The Magazine of Fantasy And Science Fiction. Thank you as well, to my agent, Martha Millard, and my editor, Mark Teppo, for their amazing patience and forbearing. And to Zoe Matoff, for always being there, especially when things got hard. Finally, to Paula Scardamalia, writing coach extraordinaire, for catching the small things, and keeping me focused on the big ones.

  About the Author

  Rachel Pollack is the author of forty books, including Godmother Night, winner of the World Fantasy Award, Unquenchable Fire, winner of the Arthur C. Clarke Award, and Temporary Agency, short-listed for the Nebula Award. She is also a poet, a translator, a comics writer, and the author of a series of best-selling books about Tarot cards, including 78 Degrees Of Wisdom, in print continuously since 1980. Her work has been translated into fifteen languages and sold around the world. She has lectured and taught on five continents.

  Also by Rachel Pollack

  The Child Eater

  Godmother Night

  Temporary Agency

  Unquenchable Fire

  The Tarot of Perfection

  78 Degrees of Wisdom

  The Fissure King is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in an absolutely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Pollack

  All rights reserved, which means that no portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the copyright holder.

  This is U030 and it has an ISBN of 978-1-63023-012-8.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017947623

  This book was printed in the United States of America, and it is published by Underland Press, an imprint of Resurrection House (Sumner, WA).

  Portions of this book first appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction as stand-alone stories.

  So Handsome Johnny was gone and he was himself again . . .

  Book Design by Mark Teppo

  First trade paperback Underland Press edition: October 2017.

  Underland Press

  www.underlandpress.com