The Memory of Sky

by Robert Reed

  “Father,” he yelled to the canopy.

  For an instant, the buzz diminished. A thousand voices hesitated, and then they started up again, screaming only what mattered to them.

  Nissim took Diamond to the toilet.

  Waiting as told, Elata sat beside Seldom, touching him and both of them nervous and neither one talking. Elata hated silence. She always had. Odd, awful thoughts kept burrowing into her head, and talking was how she coped whenever bad things were happening. Sitting on her hands was what she did at school when the teachers warned her to be quiet. She sat on her hands now, and Seldom noticed, chewing his bottom lip when she started to shake.

  She wanted to jump up and shout at the strange man in front of them, telling him to leave them alone.

  Seldom saw her staring at the man. “Don’t,” he whispered.

  But she couldn’t just sit and pretend nothing was wrong. The blimp had pulled away from the landing, pushing toward the next stop. Where was the Master? And Diamond? Sitting like a book on a shelf made her crazy, and she was sure that she wouldn’t last another breath. Yet she did, and that surprised her as much as anything.

  Seldom told her not to stare, but then he turned, looking at the other two men and making a sorry little sound.

  “What?” she asked.

  He jerked his head forward again. “They were talking.”

  “Talking how?”

  “I don’t know . . . but then one of them looked at me.”

  She started to turn.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  But she looked anyway. One man had stood, walking up the aisle now. She and Seldom both sat on their hands. The man passed them and bent low, saying a few words to the man in front—quiet words put inside an ear—and the sitting man shook his head, whispering and flapping his hand in the air.

  The standing man nodded and returned to his seat, staring blankly at the children as he passed.

  The blimp kept pushing. Elata watched the canopy. A gold-and-blue pashta bird was hovering above a bakebear, stealing ripe fruits with his long tongue. Rail was the next stop, Hanner after that, and what was Master Nissim doing? Was Diamond all right? The worst fear wasn’t the fact that something had gone wrong, which was plainly true, but not knowing what that something was.

  “Get up,” she told Seldom.

  He didn’t want to move, and he didn’t want to stay. The debate ended when the girl poked him the ribs.

  They stood together, and she pushed him to the aisle and into the hallway. Both toilet doors were closed. She looked up into the cockpit, earning a bored glance from the pilot’s assistant. Then with the flat of her hand, she knocked hard on one door, listening to silence and knocking again.

  “Occupied,” Nissim said.

  Seldom put his face close to the door. “Are you all right, sir?”

  There was no answer and no hint of motion, but then the door clicked and opened. Nissim was leaning against the sink. He looked as if he had been standing that way for a very long time. The window was closed but crooked after a rough repair. There was no corner where a second person could hide.

  Nissim put three fingers over his mouth, wanting silence.

  But Elata couldn’t stop the words. “Where did he—?”

  “No.”

  She opened the other toilet door. No Diamond.

  A grim and peculiar smile filled the old face. The Master winked at them and in a whisper asked, “Where are they?”

  Elata risked one hasty look. “In their seats, watching us.”

  “I bet they are,” he said. Again he put his fingers to his mouth, a strange, scared expression blooming on his face.

  They said nothing after that. They walked back to the open bench, and Elata sat where Diamond had been. She felt the propellers working and the slow swaying of the blimp, and for a few moments she forgot where she was. Suddenly she was a tiny girl, riding beside her dead father, enjoying her very first blimp ride.

  The two men behind them were muttering.

  Nissim shared the same bench, sitting beside the aisle, his shoulders held high.

  One man went to the man sitting in front, and both of them continued into the hallway. Elata couldn’t see them, but she heard one toilet door open, then the other, and never any courteous knock.

  She sat like Nissim sat, straight and square.

  The men didn’t come back.

  “What are they doing?” she asked.

  Seldom tipped his head, trying to see.

  “Probably talking to the pilot,” Nissim said. “But they won’t learn anything useful.”

  The men eventually returned, joining their friend in back. The three of them were muttering and cursing. People turned to watch. Passengers who hadn’t noticed anything before now began to pay close attention.

  The third man, the one who always sat in back, said, “Wait here.”

  Then he walked up to Master Nissim.

  “Move over,” he said.

  The Master looked up, making a long odd sound, as if he felt sick. Then he pushed to the right, and Seldom shoved Elata against the window.

  The man sat, staring straight ahead. He had a face that probably always looked annoyed. His mouth was tense, the eyes like slivers. A voice came out of someplace deep inside his chest, asking nobody in particular, “What happened to the boy?”

  Nissim said nothing.

  The man turned to glare at him. Then he stared at Elata and Seldom, measuring them. To Seldom, he said, “Where did your friend go?”

  As if lashed by electricity, Seldom flinched and moaned.

  “We don’t know the boy,” Nissim said.

  “No?”

  With that, the Master started telling a story that was much lie as truth. This very smart man, this one-time teacher, often talked about duty and integrity and being relentlessly honest. But he was suddenly weaving an elaborate tale about a strange boy showing up at school this morning. He claimed that he was a naturalist and these children were his students, and the three of them were on their way to the canopy to hunt for a rare species of ant. The strange boy had tagged along, which was a mistake. Master Nissim regretted that and hoped that nobody would get in trouble, particularly him. Then he introduced the children, except he used invented names, and he offered a palm to the annoyed man, claiming that his name was Master Shine.

  Elata liked to lie, and she always had the talent. But she couldn’t begin to keep all the details of this story straight.

  Nissim was doing a grand job of wasting time, she realized.

  Finally the annoyed man said, “Just shut up.”

  Nobody spoke.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he nodded and one of his partners came forward, bending low while the annoyed man told him, “Search the cargo and search between the bladders. Make sure he’s not onboard.”

  “Oh, the boy isn’t here,” Nissim said.

  The annoyed man turned back, acting surprised to find him still here. “So where is the nameless one?”

  “I was trying to explain,” Nissim insisted with a tight, offended tone. “I wasn’t comfortable having him with us, but then he said that he needed help with the toilet. So I took him. And when we got behind that door, the child looked at me with those pale sick eyes . . . he looked at me and said that he didn’t very much like the world, and he was leaving.”

  The annoyed man didn’t react.

  “Leaving where?” Seldom asked.

  Nissim sat back in the bench and shook his head. “I was standing beside him. And then a moment later, he was gone.”

  The man made a long wet sound, as if preparing to spit.

  “But you obviously know something about the child,” Nissim said. “And I can guess why you want to find him.”

  The man started to answer but thought better of it.

  “That boy is magical.” Master glanced at Elata, flashing a fine little smile. Then to everybody, with a teacher’s best voice, he announced, “That peculiar little creature just melt
ed into the air and was gone.”

  The nearby passengers had been listening, and they laughed nervously. The annoyed man got to his feet and started to curse, nobody able to tell just who was receiving the brunt of his rage. Then he went to the back bench again, and eventually his partners returned. The cargo hold and every cubby had been searched, and no odd boy was uncovered. Then a few moments later, the blimp arrived at Rail and the gangway deployed, and after a few hard words, two of the men disembarked.

  “Now who’s left?” Nissim asked.

  Elata looked. “The leader is.”

  As if in misery, Seldom bent forward. “Did that really happen?”

  Nobody answered.

  “Did Diamond vanish?”

  “No, of course not,” said Elata.

  “Good.”

  Then Nissim leaned close to them, quietly saying, “But there is magic about our friend. And probably more than any of us can know.”

  Diamond ran until too many people were sharing the walkway, and then he walked, quick feet taking little steps. He was always watching faces. Young men deserved special attention. The men who had scared Master Nissim could be somewhere close. With his mind’s eyes, he studied their faces. If they appeared again, he would run. If cornered, he would fight. He wasn’t sure how to fight, but he had the knife and healthy share of fear, and while he walked, Diamond imagined battles between him and those big dangerous men—noisy wild struggles full of blood and deep wounds.

  The walkway grew wider, and the branches rose up to create a ceiling as he approached the next tree. People left their umbrellas closed. Enormous leaves absorbed the endless fall of wastes. The air inside the forest canopy was damp and surprisingly quiet, voices and bird songs smothered by the foliage. Women with babies were always happy to offer directions. All of them knew Ivory Station. One lady promised that it was close, but the next said that it was quite a walk for a little guy, and should he be alone like this? Diamond trotted on, weaving through the traffic. Doubts kept attacking. But this wasn’t where he needed to be, and what was behind him wasn’t where he wanted to stay.

  A crossroads appeared. Three other walkways intersected with his route—a collision of people and motion demanding a huge circle of varnished wood, golden and shiny. Diamond hesitated. There were too many faces, too many judgments to make. He kept seeing the dangerous men shuffling along, and then he would look again, realizing they were strangers. The world was jammed with people, and how could a person hope to know everybody? Being surrounded by strangers forever seemed terrible, and at that point the boy found a bench at the edge of the circle, sat down and let tears come.

  People noticed. An old woman took it upon herself to come over, inquiring if he was all right.

  He stood again, wiping his eyes.

  “Do you need help?” she asked.

  He nodded, ready to ask once again for directions.

  Then someone called out, “Diamond.”

  It was a man’s voice, but not deep. Not like his father’s or Master Nissim’s voices. Diamond saw a man and woman walking toward him, holding each other’s hands. They seemed utterly happy. Nothing else in the world mattered to them but each other, and certainly there was no reason to care about one small, odd boy.

  “Well, what is your problem?” the old woman asked impatiently.

  Diamond blinked and lied. “I’m fine,” he said.

  Grumbling, she set off in her own important direction.

  The couple was leaning into each other, whispering and laughing. Turning with the circle, they moved out of Diamond’s line of sight, and that was when he noticed the slender man sitting alone. A book was opened in the man’s lap, but he was looking only at the boy. A broad smile filled his face. He seemed joyful. He didn’t stand but he lifted his left arm and waved, and once again the high-pitched voice said, “Diamond.”

  Diamond stepped backwards, hope overruled by worries.

  Then the man’s expression turned serious, and he took the trouble to rise to his feet. “Your father sent me,” the man called out. “Come here, please.”

  Hope won. Diamond started forward.

  Nodding agreeably, the slender man sat again, closing the book and setting it on a tall stack of books and papers. He had a thin small mouth and a slender face that still looked boyish despite thousands of days of life. He was dressed in neat clothes with a dark jacket and some kind of elaborate rope dangling down his narrow chest. His shoes were black and glossy, open in front for the toes. He was working hard to appear relaxed, but one foot was crossed over the other, long toes wiggling.

  Diamond stopped a few steps short of him.

  Caution amused the man. He smiled and straightened his back, nothing about his manner changing. “Your father did a wonderful job describing you. Hello, Diamond. How are you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I know. You’re worried and scared.” This man didn’t worry. That’s what he said with his confident grin and how he calmly sat back down again. Only his toes refused to relax. “This has been such a difficult day, I’m sure. For your parents as well as you, I know.”

  “Where is he?” Diamond asked.

  “Your father’s close. He’s waiting at the Station, in fact, and he’s very sorry for what happened. He heard about your adventures. He returned a little while ago and found messages from the police. Apparently you woke up this morning and found yourself alone. Of course you went looking for your parents. Two ladies got involved, and you had some adventure with neighbor children, and people reported seeing you after that. Nobody knows the whole story—except you, of course. But Merit is a smart man, and he guessed that you were trying find him at his office.”

  “Is Father all right?”

  “Except for being so very sorry, yes. He is fine.”

  Diamond smiled.

  “My name is List.”

  “List?”

  “Oh, this has been one enormous string of mistakes.” The man shook his head sadly. “That’s why your father confided to me. He needed help finding you. That’s why I came out here myself. I’ve always had a talent for understanding children. I suppose that’s why I guessed where you might show up next.”

  “Where’s my mother?”

  List paused for a moment. “She’s home again.”

  Another great hope was answered. Those words were accepted, embraced and believed. Diamond was still scared, but at least he could imagine Mother sitting in his dark deep room, crying to herself while clinging to poor Mister Mister. And Father was waiting up ahead somewhere. His parents felt awful for leaving him, and they should be miserable, and the boy was suddenly angry. And somehow that anger only made him happier.

  The slender man waited patiently.

  Then a woman emerged from the endless stream of people. She rushed over to him, saying, “Archon, my goodness. I didn’t recognize you.”

  The man didn’t want to take his eyes off the boy. But just before the woman stepped between them, he stood and took her offered hand. “Hello there. Yes, you are . . . one of the Oppal sisters, aren’t you? Jam Oppal, right?”

  “You’re a genius for faces and names,” the woman said.

  He nodded agreeably, turning back to Diamond.

  “And what brings you to the wilderness?” the woman asked.

  “Oh, this isn’t the wilderness,” he said. Then he winked at the boy, adding, “I have many close friends out here.”

  “I’m one of them,” she said.

  He tried to laugh and then squeezed her hand again. “It is good to see you, Jam. Tell your sisters that they’re all lovely, but you are the smartest.”

  Giggling, the woman left.

  “Archon,” said Diamond.

  “Yes?”

  “Is that also your name?”

  “It’s a title, and an office.”

  Diamond said nothing.

  The Archon remained standing. “Your father wants to see you right away.”

  “How is my father?�
�

  “He is very well,” the man said.

  “Did he kill a corona?”

  The man blinked and said, “Yes. A giant corona, in fact.”

  “Is he happy about it?”

  “Of course he’s happy.” With his toes, the Archon gripped the flat face of the wood. “Let’s go see him now and make him happier than ever.”

  “All right.”

  The man turned to pick up the books and papers.

  And Diamond ran away.

  Long legs carried him to far side of the circle. Staying on the route he had been on before, Diamond ran next to the railing and then down the middle, weaving around people, racing past the young handholding couple. He saw a sign full of words and important arrows, but he couldn’t read well enough to understand what the signs told him. Then a voice behind him shouted, “Diamond,” and he ran faster than before.

  The voice called to him a second time, then a third.

  Diamond ran on his toes, startling people with his speed and his desperate face. Adults jumped out of his way and shouted after him, and then the following voice, suddenly close, said, “Slow down, Diamond.”

  He tried to run faster but couldn’t.

  “It’s me,” the voice called out. “Seldom.”

  Diamond stopped instantly, and Seldom rode the bicycle into his friend’s leg, lost his balance and crashed. Passersby asked if the boys were all right, but when the only reaction was laughter, the adults insisted on telling the little thugs how irresponsible it was to do everything they had been doing today, and on public walkways too.

  NINE

  Bright blood had seeped through Diamond’s trousers, but now the blood darkened and seeped back into his skin, leaving the fabric clean but slightly damp. Seldom’s knee and the back of one hand were badly scraped. He wiped the hand against the leg of his school uniform, studying the resulting stain.

  Both boys stood, and Diamond gave the bicycle’s front wheel a hard spin, watching the wooden spokes blurring.