by Steve Cash
I tapped Geaxi on the shoulder. “You never told me she was pregnant.”
“As Sailor would surely point out, young Zezen, you never asked.”
I glanced back at Mitch. I had not yet explained where we were going or why. I had simply grabbed him and said, “Follow me.”
Captain Antoine Boutrain stood next to her. His hair was streaked with silver and his face was beginning to show the weathering from years at sea, but other than that, he looked well and healthy. Emme smiled broadly and reached for his hand as we approached. She stared up at me in silence, then we embraced for several moments. As we separated, she said, “I knew we would see each other again. I am thankful it has finally come to pass, Zianno Zezen.”
“I agree, Emme. And there is something you need to see. Mitch,” I said over my shoulder, “show this woman the picture inside your jacket.”
“What?” he asked.
“Just do it. Let her see the picture.”
Mitch gave Emme the photograph of his father and she looked at me, then studied the picture. For a full minute she said nothing, then she spoke. “I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.”
Behind me, Mitch said, “That’s Walt Whitman, man.”
Emme glanced at Mitch. “Why, yes it is.”
“I think you should meet someone,” I told her. “Someone you never knew existed.” I pulled Mitch toward me. “Mitch,” I said, “this woman is from Mali in West Africa. She is the granddaughter of a Dogon shaman and holy man. She speaks perfect American English, which she learned from her father a few years before you were born. He was a black engineer from the United States…from Ithaca, New York.”
Mitch gazed at me in disbelief as the truth came to him. “Emme?” he said, stunned.
Emme looked at Mitch, then to me with a baffled expression.
“Emme Ya Ambala,” I said, “I would like to introduce you to your half brother, Mitchell Ithaca Coates of St. Louis, Missouri.” I looked at Mitch standing with Mercy. “Mitch, my friend, this is definitely your lucky day.”
Emme glanced down at her father smiling in the photograph, then back to Mitch’s face. She smiled and Mitch smiled back. All three had the same smile. “Is he still…?”
“Alive?” Mitch asked.
“Yes.”
Mitch said nothing, then shook his head slowly back and forth. Mercy had her arm wrapped in his and she seemed to hold him a little tighter. Antoine Boutrain placed his hand on Emme’s shoulder. Emme nodded and started to speak, but never got the chance. Without warning, two photographers rushed right through us, one of them almost clipping Mercy with his camera as he ran. Charles Lindbergh had decided to leave early and every photographer in the hallway was scrambling for a shot.
Geaxi said, “I shall be back shortly,” and headed directly into the crowd. For some reason, I felt compelled to follow. “We won’t be long,” I said, and sprinted to catch up.
Geaxi moved as smooth as a pickpocket, slipping by and around and squeezing through the onlookers, reporters, photographers, city officials, and security people. Still, we could get no closer than fifteen feet from where Lindbergh would make his exit. The crowd pushed and pressed together and we had to think of some way to get a better view. Geaxi said it was not necessary that we get any nearer, only that she be able to see him clearly.
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
Geaxi adjusted her beret and we both fought to keep our place. “Do you still carry those gold coins, those double eagles?” she asked.
“Yes, it’s a habit now. I have two in my pocket.”
“Give them to me.”
I handed her the double eagles and she turned and spoke in French to two reporters pushing against us from the back. In ten seconds, a deal had been struck. Geaxi gave one of the men one of the coins, then turned and said, “Follow me, young Zezen, and hop on.” The first reporter bent down enough to let Geaxi straddle his shoulders, then stood up. “Excellent view!” Geaxi said. The second reporter kneeled and I climbed on, the same as I had when I first rode on my papa’s shoulders to watch a baseball game, fifty-two years earlier. The man stood at the exact moment Lindbergh appeared in the hallway, surrounded by dignitaries and security. They helped him through the mass of reporters and photographers. Lindbergh walked quickly. The crowd kept shouting his name from all directions. He looked like a boy to me—a tall, shy boy caught in the middle of something he never imagined. He tried to thank the people as he passed, but there were too many. Shouts, praises, and questions from reporters filled the hallway and drowned everything else out.
I glanced at Geaxi. She was smiling. Lindbergh was thirty feet away now, almost out of sight. Geaxi closed her eyes, then opened her mouth and used “the Voice.” Without making a sound, she whispered, “Alegeratu! Congratulations, Slim. Good luck.”
Lindbergh stopped abruptly and turned, looking back over the crowd. The people around him urged him on and kept him moving, but he glanced back twice before disappearing down the stairs and out of sight.
I looked at Geaxi. “Can you do that whenever you want?”
She grinned. “Yes,” she said. “However, until now I was not aware of it.” She tapped the reporter on the shoulder to let her down. I did the same. Geaxi gave the men the other double eagle and shook their hands, thanking them in medieval French. They seemed confused, but pleased about the money, and left speaking rapidly back and forth. Once they were gone, she said, “Tomorrow, young Zezen, we begin our search for Rune Balle.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say ‘tonight.’ ”
“You are attempting to be humorous, no?”
“Sí, un poco,” I said. Inside the huge hall, the show went on in high spirits. A duet was singing Me and My Shadow. “It has been a long day, Geaxi. That was the best I could do.”
A month to the day passed and no sign of Rune Balle’s presence in Paris could be found, even though Captain B, or Antoine as he preferred to be called, had his extensive underground network combing every district in the city. Geaxi, Nova, and I usually went with him when he would rendezvous with informants. They all wondered if he had suddenly adopted grandchildren, but Antoine ignored their comments. Mitch and Mercy stayed with Emme while we made our rounds. Mitch and Emme had long discussions, sharing their separate memories of their father. By the end of the month, Mitch began talking about opening a club in Paris with Josephine as a partner. He even said he was going to learn to speak French. I reminded him that they didn’t play baseball in Paris and Mitch solved the problem by saying he would come home in the summers. Mercy and Emme became close friends and Mercy helped her with all the household chores. Emme was going to have her baby at any time and Mercy promised to stay with her through the ordeal. Antoine seemed nervous about becoming a father, but his happiness was self-evident. Emme never complained about anything and couldn’t wait to be a mother. Her eyes would dance and sparkle with delight at the thought of it. One night while we were sitting at the kitchen table, I told her I wished PoPo could be there with us. She rubbed her swollen belly and said, “Oh, but he is, Zianno, he is.”
On June 27, Geaxi and I were having lunch at a café in Montparnasse. Antoine and Nova had gone to see a stained-glass artist who lived a few blocks away and had once known Rune Balle.
“Before Nova returns, there is something we must discuss,” Geaxi said.
“What is it?”
“It is time for Nova to experience the Bitxileiho, the Strange Window. There is to be a total solar eclipse not far from Caitlin’s Ruby in two days. The path of the eclipse crosses Wales and northern England. I shall take Nova, but you should stay here to continue our search for Balle. If all goes well, we will be back in Paris by the first of August.”
I hadn’t thought of the Bitxileiho in years. I remembered the helplessness, the inability to move, and the cold terror of the infinite. The
experience is unique to the Meq, but necessary for our “maturity.” It is also the place and state of mind where we cross in the Zeharkatu. However, because of her “visions,” for Nova the experience might prove dangerous or harmful.
“Do you think she’ll be…all right?” I asked.
“I do not know,” Geaxi answered. “It is a chance we must take. We may not have another opportunity for years.” Geaxi paused, then asked, “Do you agree, young Zezen?”
I didn’t like it, but I also knew its importance. “Yes, I agree. Have you contacted Willie?”
“Yes, he will be waiting for us in London. From there, we head straight for Giggleswick in northern England.”
I studied Geaxi’s eyes. She gave nothing away, as always, but I could tell she didn’t look forward to the event. “Good luck,” I said.
“Yes, well, let us hope we shall not need it.”
Antoine and Nova returned fifteen minutes later. They sat down with disappointed looks on their faces. The man they had gone to see was in Chartres and would not be back until August 1.
Geaxi turned to me and said, “Perfect.” Then she looked at Nova and said, “Nova, we need to talk.”
Early in the morning on June 29, a total eclipse of the sun passed through Wales and swept across North Yorkshire. There was only one place along its path where it was visible from the ground—Giggleswick. The weather before the eclipse had been miserable, but a sudden break in the clouds allowed witnesses there to experience twenty-four seconds of totality. Geaxi, Nova, and Willie observed and experienced it from the school grounds in Giggleswick, along with dozens of astronomers and photographers. In Paris, at about the same time, I was still asleep—and dreaming.
It was winter in St. Louis. I was in Sportsman’s Park, standing at home plate. The grandstands were empty and the entire field was covered in snow. Dressed in black, the umpire stood on the mound with his back to me, facing center field. I felt the bat in my hands, but I couldn’t see it. The umpire turned and stared at me. He wore a mask, which he removed slowly with one hand. But one mask only revealed another. A chill ran through me. He seemed to smile beneath the mask and threw the pitch at high velocity. I saw a sphere racing toward me. It was white, but it was not a baseball. It was a snowball, which then became a snowflake, spinning through space like a wheel with six spokes. I swung and everything went white. I woke up breathing hard and fast, as if I had been sprinting for my life.
When Geaxi and Nova returned to Paris two days later, I knew the instant I looked into Nova’s eyes that twenty-four seconds of totality had been enough time to affect her deeply. There was calmness, resolve, and wisdom in her I had never seen before. Nova had changed completely. I saw a new purpose, or direction. She reminded me a great deal of her papa. She and Geaxi were standing just inside the door of Antoine and Emme’s apartment. Antoine was out, and Emme and Mercy were in the kitchen.
“You’ve seen your papa, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, slightly startled. “How did you know, Zianno?”
“I can see him in your eyes.”
“He came directly through the Window, Zianno. He was like a star as bright and blue as Sirius. He spoke in a way that was similar to ‘the Voice,’ but not quite the same. He told me there was no longer any need to fear my visions. He said I could learn from them…we could all learn from them.”
“He’s right,” I said.
“I know that now. Somehow, in some way, my papa has released me, Zianno. It sounds naïve, silly almost, but I finally, firmly realized I am not losing my mind.”
I told her I once felt the same way about my dreams. Then I turned and asked Geaxi if the Bitxileiho had been a pleasant experience for her.
“I assume that is another one of your attempts at humor and irony, no?” She had one eyebrow raised and was glaring at me. “The Bitxileiho is never fun, young Zezen. Nor is it a ‘pleasant experience,’ at least not for me. I could easily pass an eternity without experiencing another.”
Before I could respond, Antoine burst through the door and ran into Geaxi. She tumbled forward in one graceful somersault, then leaped to her feet and spun in a quick pirouette to see who or what had hit her. Antoine apologized immediately, then went on to say he had heard from the stained-glass artist. The man had contacted Antoine and informed him that Rune Balle was currently in Chartres, repairing and restoring the ancient stained-glass windows high above the clerestory in Chartres Cathedral. The man had seen Balle and spoken with him only a week ago. Geaxi suggested we leave on the spot and Nova agreed. I looked at Antoine. Chartres was very near Paris; however, I could tell he was reluctant to leave Emme, even for a day. She might go into labor at any moment.
Geaxi noticed his anxiety and said, “This time, Antoine, you should stay here.”
He smiled gratefully. “Oui, mademoiselle. This is the choice I prefer. Merci.”
Geaxi and Nova took baths and changed clothes while I waited for them in the kitchen. I watched Emme talking with Mercy. Her belly was big and round as a giant, prize-winning melon, which she was massaging gently with her fingertips. I knew she would probably have her baby before we returned. Emme seemed to sense what I was thinking and said, “Zianno, I would like your blessing before I go into the hospital.”
“You have it, Emme, but you won’t need it. Everything will be fine. You’re an expert. I’ve seen you deliver a baby before. Remember?”
She laughed. “I could never forget,” she said.
Half an hour later, we were in the street and on our way to catch a train for Chartres. Emme sent along roast lamb sandwiches and cucumbers, and we ate them on the train as the sun set in the west. A faint mist and drizzle caused the light coming through the glass of the window to fracture and dance in patterns and shades of gold, pink, and tangerine.
“Do you enjoy that effect, Zianno?” Geaxi asked.
“Yes,” I answered, “yes, I do.”
Geaxi took a large bite from her sandwich and stared out the window as she ate. A full minute passed. Quietly and without elaboration, she said, “Then you shall likely enjoy Rune Balle.”
Sudden violence, or the nearness of it, when felt or sensed in advance, gives any warrior, hunter, or shepherd a primary advantage in any conflict—the element of surprise. The Meq have always had this ability, especially when traveling together. As we approached the gothic Chartres Cathedral, I noticed its twin spires rising into the night sky like two black blades. Nova, Geaxi, and I each sensed an imminent danger within.
We raced to the three massive front doors. They were all locked. Geaxi led the way around the corner and along the south wall, stopping suddenly in front of a small doorway almost hidden from view. The door was open. Geaxi seemed to know it would be there.
“How…?”
“Never mind,” she said. “Follow me.”
Without hesitation, I reached for the Stone in my pocket. Simultaneously, Geaxi and Nova reached for their Stones. Geaxi also carried hers in her pocket. Nova wore hers on a leather necklace, which she removed and held in her palm. Even in the darkness the gems sparkled bright and brilliant around the Stone of Silence. My Stone and Geaxi’s were no more than heavy, pitted oval rocks—two black eggs, but regardless of their appearance, we would need all three.
We entered a narrow hall and moved quickly until we came to a small opening, which led to another opening covered by a thick curtain. Geaxi parted the curtain, revealing the vast interior of the great cathedral. There were no lights on, but a few candles were burning on top of scaffolding erected along the far wall and extending out into the church, ending forty feet in the air above the inlaid stones of the Chartres Labyrinth. On the highest platform a struggle was taking place, causing the scaffolding to shake and sound as if it might be coming apart. The two Maori assassins we had interrupted in St. Louis were about to murder or torture a man they were holding between them. They had torn open the man’s shirt and they held him in the air with one hand apiece. Each had pearl-handl
ed daggers in the other hand. The captured man had wild gray hair and a ragged beard. He was screaming at the Maoris in Norwegian. It was Rune Balle. He yelled, “Morder! Morder! Snikmorder! Din mor liv inn helvete!”
Geaxi began climbing the scaffolding without taking her eyes off the Maoris. Nova and I tried to keep pace. Geaxi climbed silently and quickly. In seconds we were over the top. The Maoris stood ten feet away. They had their daggers poised. Rune Balle screamed something, then spit in their faces. The daggers started forward.
“Hear ye, hear ye now, Giza!” Geaxi droned, holding the Stone out and pointing in their direction. Nova and I joined her. “Lo geltitu, lo geltitu, Ahaztu!” we said in unison. The Maoris dropped their daggers instantly and stood with their arms at their sides. Their tattooed faces went blank, their eyes dulled. Almost automatically, we added, “Turn and go now, Giza, go like lambs. Ahaztu!”
It was an ill-fated command for the Maoris. We had unintentionally sent them to their deaths. They turned with puzzled expressions and calmly walked in the opposite direction, off the scaffolding and into thin air, falling forty feet and landing headfirst and dead center on the six-petaled rosette at the heart of the Chartres Labyrinth.
Rune Balle had dropped to his knees. He rubbed his chest where the daggers would have pierced his heart. He crawled to the edge of the platform and stared down at the Maoris and the blood spreading across the stone floor. From the height of the platform, their blood looked black instead of red. He turned to us and said something in Norwegian, then in French.
Geaxi said, “In English, Rune, speak in English, please. Your nephew said you speak English fluently.”
