She started walking toward the white moon, her footsteps on the dirt and pebbles the only sound. She was clothed as she had been in her office, though her body was not solid and exuded an iridescent sheen. The air, cold and fresh, held a trace of the sea, and behind her a thin strand of light rounded into a cloud and settled on a rock. "I'll wait here," it said in Zude's mind.
She walked on, her feet moving now to a rhythm not her own, but one she knew well. The familiar song of the children floated on the thin air. She hummed along until the tune faded.
"You came!" Regina — a shadow of Regina? — landed on Zude's back with a tactile thump, her legs straddling Zude's torso, both hands holding Zude's head.
Zude disengaged a small finger from the socket of her eye and peeled the frail burden from her back. "Reggie!" She hugged and stroked, trying to give substance to a form that declined to be substantial. At last she simply held the child on her arm, letting the white hair rest against her shoulder. "Reggie, you are so. . .weightless!"
"You, too, my Zudie!" said the child, giggling and poking at Zude's softshirt. "Carry me?" she added.
"Of course," said her friend, moving toward the moon once more. "Where shall we go?"
"Everywhere!" Regina exclaimed. Zude dutifully strode forward, bouncing her laughing bundle with each step.
"Stop, Zudie." When Zude obediently halted, Regina told her, "We have to play now."
"A game, preshi?"
"Eye-swap," the bundle said, wiggling to be put down. "Come on."
Regina slid from her perch and squatted in the middle of the road, her feet flat and her buttocks swinging just off the ground, her armpits on her overalled knees.
Zude imitated her position. "So what's this eye thing?"
Regina's smiling head bobbed from side to side. "Zudie, I can see me. Can you see you?" Zude frowned. Regina bubbled on. "Put your feet here, Zudie, inside mine."
"Mine are so much bigger, Reggie." She started forward.
"In your head, Zudie, do it in your head!" Zude closed her eyes. "There!" Regina crooned. "Now look!"
Zude opened her eyes to a squatting, slightly gray-haired woman in plastiped boots and a softshirt, earnestly squeezing her eyes shut. Zude gasped and giggled, her head bobbing left and right. "That's me!" Her voice was a child's treble.
"Yes!" said Regina from inside Zude's child-body, "yes, and I can. . ." The voice slipped away.
And continued flowing from the mouth of the figure across from her.
". . .jump into you!" said the warm mellow voice from the shiny-eyed Magister. Before Zude could respond, the voice was back with her, her companion again inside her tiny body. "Oh, Zudie, I've missed you so!"
Zude was plunged gloriously into the heart of Regina's love. She basked there only a moment before a cavalcade of characters paraded by her: Ria, Enrique, Eva, bisabuela, Bosca, cousins, friends, Zude herself, all perceived from the vantage point of a small being. She saw with Regina's eyes both the accented memories and the daily commonplaces of a cheerful young life.
To her astonishment she realized she could halt the progression and examine as deeply as she wished any one of Regina's experiences, vividly remembered or long-buried under armor deliberately or fortuitously forged. Zude investigated a scene or two, feeling the feelings that pervaded them: big joys, stark disappointments, bald angers, lavish generosities. There, in the still and frosty countryside, on a road with neither origin nor destination, and inhabiting the echo-body of her cherished child companion, the Magister explored them all with appropriate awe and attention, all the while aware that Regina was happily allowing her scrutiny.
She even survived with dignity and full appreciation her introduction to Regina's Source Self, that vital spirit from whose center the child's life energy and well-being surged. I-Bear, Regina called her Source Self, and Zude in fact felt it as a great ursine presence.
"She has something to tell you, Zudie."
"Your I-Bear?"
"Yes. It's important, she says. Listen!"
Zude was surrounded by a delicate tuneful humming and a fuzzy breeze that swaddled her and held her close to an enormous heart. She swung there, embraced by a big innocent joy and a vast affectionate curiosity. If this was what an I-Bear felt like, she thought, she wanted one too. Such comfort!
Then it came to her like an ocean seeping into her bones."What you are proudest of," the I-Bear told her, "you must destroy."
Then it ebbed quickly away, back into the light-year stars, leaving her in her echo-body again, cold upon a moon-drenched road with a white-haired child beside her.
Zude reached toward Regina to gather her into her arms again. She held the child close, while the words resounded in her mind, over and over.
"I have to go, Zudie."
Startled, Zude squeezed the little hand. "Will I see you again, preshi?"
"Oh yes, Zudie. In my real body."
"But then you will go away?"
A dazzling smile covered the child's face. "Yes. Soon." She kissed Zude's cheek. The overalls and the shirt became translucent, then transparent.
The Magister watched the precious shape fade entirely. She did not reach out. She did not weep. She only nodded. A deep ease settled around her, one in which she wished to abide forever.
Some time later a spline of light circled her head, took her hand, drew her back to earth.
Zude was cold and shaking, even under the warm tekla of the Magister cloak that was spread over her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was on her side, and beneath her was not hard dirt and pebbles, but the cushions of a sofa. Her arms held her knees close under her chin in fetal position.
The voice from beside her was no longer muted. "I found your cloak in the wall abditory," it said. "I hope that's all right."
Zude managed to nod, then slowly unfolded her legs and rolled onto her back. The office was as usual, no longer under a misted dome.
The lights were still low, and Bosca sat on the recliner holding a cup out to her. "You should have flightbane to soothe you after an episode like this, but it's not on the transmog's menu. This is a double-steeped herbal."
Zude pushed to a sitting position, keeping the cloak around her and closing her eyes to steady the room's spin. She could manage only a small sip of the liquid.
"Did we do what I think we did?" she whispered.
"We did indeed."
Zude nodded. She blew on the tea, then took a large swallow and sat back. The hot drink eased her insides. She rubbed her forearms and thighs, assuring herself of their solidity. "Bosca," she whispered, "Bosca, I held her! She was so light!"
"I know."
Without warning Zude's eyes filled and overflowed. She took the handkerchief Bosca offered and wiped her eyes. The tears did not stop. "I'm not sad," Zude insisted, still unable to keep her cheeks dry, "I'm not sad, Bosca." A short laugh escaped her lips. "In fact," she stammered, "I felt. . . I mean. . . I think. . .I think I know what peace is. For maybe the first time ever in my life."
"You're a Peacekeeper."
"I am now."
They sat in a long silence.
"Bosca."
"Here."
"We have to close down the bailiwicks."
Bosca nodded. "You're sure?"
"Very sure." Zude set her tea on the end table by the taxidermed cat. "It's so obvious." She took Bosca's hand. "Regina's Source Self told me. It said, 'What you are proudest of you must destroy.' I don't think it could be any plainer."
The chime of the intercom sounded at regular intervals on the far side of the room. It grew gradually louder. Zude started to consult her tacto-time. Instead she closed her eyes and tried to sink into the ambience of all that had just occurred.
"I get 1:40," she said.
"Close," Bosca replied. "It's 1:33."
Zude smiled. She rose unsteadily. "I know I can handle this," she said, and made her way to the desk console.
Edge's voice was subdued but clear. "Magister. Sorry to disturb yo
u."
"No problem, Edge. What is it at this hour?"
"Two spooners from Denver just landed and insist on seeing you. In person. They say they have a message for you. They, along with a package that they bring to you, have cleared all security checks." There was a pause. "I informed them that you are officially not here. They informed me that the matter is of the greatest urgency."
Zude looked at Bosca, who started to rise. Zude stopped her with a shake of her head. "Give me one minute. Then you can bring them in, Captain." She spoke to Bosca. "Stay, if you don't mind, will you? This can only take a moment or two."
"Of course." Bosca began arranging the furniture more formally. She folded the Magister's cloak, then respread her long skirt and settled back into the deep sofa.
Zude brought up the lights and depaqued the broad window, letting the night's cityscape in again. She was smoothing her softshirt into a proper uniform when Edge ushered in the visitors and left.
The spooners introduced themselves as Margarita and Viva, explaining they were to deliver to the Magister a small bag that came from the Alleghenies via three other spoons.
Zude took the pouch that Margarita extended.
"There is a note enclosed in the bag," said Viva, the designated spokeswoman.
"So I'm to open it now?"
"Yes. The sender is anxious for your reply and wants us to wait."
"Oh?" Zude let her puzzlement show.
"Magister, I'm not sure why it has to be this way," Viva said, shifting her weight left and then right again. "We understand that there's a comspot code for you indicated on the enclosed note if you wish to make your response yourself. But we are to remain here until you send that answer. Or you can give us your answer, and we'll get it to the sender at once. If you decline altogether to respond immediately, then we are to inform the sender that your answer is, No."
The speaker relaxed momentarily. "The sender just wants to be sure there's no delay to your response."
"I see," said Zude. She glanced at the cotton bag and then at the messengers. "Please sit," she said. "This is Bosca, a heartsinger and dancer. Spooners Margarita, Viva."
Nods of acknowledgement, glances around the office, and the two women collapsed gratefully into their chairs.
With a look of apology to Bosca, Zude retreated to a lamp near her desk. She studied the pouch and then addressed its intricately braided drawstrings. The braiding was of a texture that quickened her heart. It would fall open in an instant, she recalled, if she tugged the right string. . . yes.
Bosca, watching Zude in the periphery of her vision, saw the Magister close her eyes. To the visitors she said, "Would you like tea or hempbrew? Or coffee?"
"No, thank you," Margarita smiled back. "We're fine."
"We had a good meal before we left. And we flew fast," Viva added. "We're looking forward to staying the night with friends as soon as we've finished here."
Zude had undone the drawstrings, Bosca noted. "I admire spooners," she said, deliberately shifting her attention from Zude. Then, as the glances of both women invited her to say more, she added, "I've been carried by a spoon but haven't flown myself. Yet. I mean I haven't . . . that is, I'm not . . ." She felt suddenly very vulnerable. Against her will, her eyes were drawn back to Zude. The Magister was staring at something she had withdrawn from the pouch. Around her pulsed an intense field of multicolored and agitated luminescence.
"There's nothing like flying," Margarita was saying, seeking to ease Bosca's discomfort and clearly unaware of the electromagnetic turmoil presently surrounding her Magister.
Bosca smiled her thanks at Margarita. "I'm sure I'll . . . that I'll do it someday," she finished. In her periphery, she saw Zude taking charge of renegade emotions, pulling in her turbulent energy rupa. It was a controlled and calm Zude who now read whatever words comprised the urgent message.
"We passed over the de-desertification project," Viva was saying excitedly. "It's very impressive from the air." She was about to elaborate on the beauties of water reclamation when she realized that Magister Adverb was rejoining them. Both she and Margarita stood.
Zude looked at each of them and then addressed Viva. "Tell the sender that the answer is, Yes. An unequivocal and immediate, Yes." She held out her hand for the Earthclasp valedictory. Viva and Margarita each in turn covered Zude's hand with both of theirs.
"Will you allow us to treat you to a hot meal and lodgings?" Zude asked.
"No, thank you," Viva replied. "We only need the use of one of your comstations to send our message. May we?"
"Of course," said Zude. She dissolved the entry wall with a motion at the corner of her desk. "Captain Edge will help you."
Margarita turned to Bosca. "Here's to high adventures!" she said. Her thumb subtly gestured to the sky.
"Thank you!" Bosca laughed. She waved her farewell as both women passed into Edge's competent custody.
"High adventures?" Zude said, dropping to the sofa.
"Colloquial reference." Bosca cast it all aside with a vague hand movement. She was sitting forward again on the sofa. Neither woman spoke for a long moment.
Zude fingered the object that had arrived in the pouch. She looked at Bosca. "It's from Jezebel."
Bosca's head fell back in the first half of a long nod. She pressed her tongue between her teeth.
Zude held up a small silver earring delicately shaped into a unicorn that rose majestically on its hind legs. Bosca's head completed its nod. Her eyes went to the unicorn's duplicate, the one dangling from Zude's ear.
"She was to send this to me if ever she needed me," Zude said.
Bosca examined the figure without touching it. "So," she whispered.
Zude handed her the note.
Hello, Zude. Will you meet me Tuesday evening, sundown, on the roof of the Give Away Casino in New Nagasaki? I hope you are well. Jezebel.
1.36earthkeep.4773.bizlavona
Bosca searched Zude's face as she handed back the note. "That's tomorrow. No, today. New Nagasaki is down in the old New Mexico desert."
"Yes. Isn't that the town that's grown up near White Sands?"
Bosca nodded. "A healing town. And a gift society."
Zude fingered the earring. "I wonder. . ."
"You'll know soon enough."
"Indeed I shall," Zude agreed.
8 - NEW NAGASAKI - [2088]
Love is a leap of faith, a leap off a cliff.
Are you ready for such joy?
Voices Of The Stream
Anarut, originally a Naga tribeswoman of the lower Himalayas, was now the manager of the Give Away. She swept around the spacious rooftop garden in her elegant long-flowing gown, showing Jez the sumptuous upper dominion of the casino.
Near a fountain surrounded by hearty desert flora, she leaned over the chest-high protective wall.
"There's a colony of Afortunadas there," she said, pointing. "Visitors can hear animal stories for days at a time, if they're willing to camp out." Then she looked to the far-off snow-capped mountains. "See the timberline that cuts north? And that bald escarpment?" Jez nodded. "Just to the right of it, a slightly lower peak? There, that reflected light! That's it. That's our observatory, monitoring for extra-terrestrials."
A barely audible tinkle of chimes interrupted them. Anarut touched her earlobe, silencing the sound. She sighed. "Well," she said, "the dome over there paques and depaques so you can see the action down on the promenade and in the main gaming hall. You can even magnify any quadrant, with no danger of spying on the dealers or. . ."
"No necessity for that," Jez assured her.
"Sorry I have to leave you." Anarut held out her arms. "It is good to see you, Jezebel."
Jez hugged her hard. "You too, Anarut, you too."
"I'll have your friend sent up the minute she arrives." She made for the drop shaft, waving her arms to encompass the roof as she went, calling, "It's all yours, my dear! Enjoy!"
Jez drew a deep breath and looked at the sun, now flat-
bottomed as it began its disappearance behind a southwestern ridge. Zude would be prompt. Always Zude was prompt.
Carousel music from below drew her to the parapet. She looked down upon a children's playground. Two niñas hung from a bright yellow pipe-bridge, one by her legs, the other in a hand-over-hand progress across the bar. A sudden irony struck Jez: the children were not so much playing as performing. She herself was part of an audience that watched the niñas; her fellow voyeurs were a man and a woman on a bench by the pipe- bridge, three people just beyond them who stood by the empty carousel, and two young adults who had just halted in their cleaning of the shallow pool to observe the small acrobats.
The only children on the playground.
Deliberately, Jez turned away from the scene and began exploring the rooftop. She strolled over pathways and through occasional nooks, where cushioned chairs or lounges sat with tables and transmogs, all inviting human use and occupation. She marveled at the hand-wind-water pollination that must have been required for this variety of vegetation. There were at least twenty kinds of cactus. And all over the garden, yuccas flowered vigorously as if, in spite of decades of disappointment, they still stubbornly expected the visitations of a dainty double-winged moth to propel them into fruition.
The wide dome rose out of the floor, holopaqued to resemble a serene pond, complete with water lilies and reflections of a blue sky. Ripples and tiny expanding circles played across its surface, teasing the viewer into coolness and reminiscences of amphibian and insect life.
Jez touched the patchpad by the low wall that surrounded the dome, and the pond dissolved to reveal the casino below. The teeming madness of gambling transactions was accompanied by a riot of sparkles, shimmers, brightly lit colors. She decided not to activate the audio field, instead focusing her attention on the figure of Dicken at a blackjack table. Jez leaned stiff-armed on the edge of the low wall and watched.
"Pardon, señora." The voice was close behind her. "But have you perchance lost a unicorn?"
Jez made herself turn slowly.
Nothing in all the annals of alchemy or the Craft could have kept down the swift sharp tears that rose at the sight before her: the proud Kanshou bearing, the uniform, the warm brown eyes, the long, slightly aquiline nose, the waves of salt-and-pepper hair. Handsome. Compelling.
The Magister (Earthkeep) Page 15
