Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven

by Anthony Bartlett

  Jonas' eyes twitched. He was shaken by Palmiro's challenge; but it made him focus. “Rescue Pascale, you said. Ah yes, that's right. That's what we'd hoped. But how, how? It's impossible. Even if we could get to her, then where would we hide her? No colony in Heaven would take an anti-social.”

  “Let us worry about all that. Just tell us how we can find her.”

  Jonas backed away from the two of them, throwing his hands down in a pathetic gesture.

  “I don't understand what you're talking about. It's all too terrible, terrible. Pascale is gone and we can't get her back.”

  Again Danny stepped forward, this time placing himself between Palmiro and Jonas. “Listen, Jonas, I love Pascale just as much as you, and I know you love her a great deal. But I'm not sitting out here under a rock dreaming about her. I really intend to find her, come what may. What's more I know she's down in the canyons somewhere. I got that figured out on my own. But I could wander down there for years and never find her. I just need some kind of map or at least a key direction.”

  Jonas squinted at Danny and a light in him seemed to flicker. “Yes I think that's right. Everyone has always said that Magus' place was down there to the south... So you really do intend to find her? It's cruel to raise hopes that go nowhere, don't you think?”

  “Come on Jonas, help us! Do you have any clue at all where she might be?”

  Jonas shook his head, seeming to stall. “You are asking me to go against the whole code of Heaven, everything it was founded on. An Immortal does nothing to lessen the perfection in Heaven. To plan actively to help anti-socials is to place chaos inside bliss. If I help you now I am as good as an anti-social myself.”

  Once more Palmiro intervened. “Of course you are. Did you ever think there was any other way? Now are you going to help us or not?”

  Jonas had really been making a speech, working his way through his deepest convictions. He was turning his thoughts, on the way to a final decision, but Palmiro's cutting across jump-started the engine. He flinched one more time and continued, “However, I find myself compelled to a feeling I do not recognize among Immortals. Therefore, actions that will not be understood by them may well be close behind. So, yes, I suppose I am an anti-social and, yes, I do wish to help you.”

  Danny grinned broadly, “Way to go, Jonas, I knew you'd come through. So what can you give us?”

  Jonas bit his lip, staring at a point in the middle distance. Finally he looked up, “I do not know the whereabouts of the colony you seek but I can offer one clue. The residents there drink the same water as the rest of us, so there must be a water pipe or conduit to carry it. The water-treatment plant lies in the south-east of Heaven, not far from the Plaza of the Fountains. It should be possible to search for a line headed out into the badlands. It may well be buried some of the way, but if it crosses a canyon it will have to come down one wall and up the other side. If you look in the south-east quadrant and if you're attentive you should find it. Having found it there is then a direction to follow. There, I have told you!”

  Danny cried, “Attaboy! Why didn't I think of that?”

  Palmiro nodded approvingly, “A simple idea but effective.” He at once wanted to move on. “Danny, I can take you back now. On the basis of Jonas' plan you can begin searching tomorrow. If you need my help I'll come with you, but I think I would slow you down. The moment you have a lead I will come with you then. It is absolutely imperative we get to Pascale and bring her out.”

  “Dead right, Palmiro. I'll be on Stardust first light tomorrow and I'll let you know directly I get anything. Jonas, we've got to go now. Thank you! You've given us the code to unlock this thing. When we find Pascale we'll have to hide her somewhere, and we'll let you know.”

  Jonas felt the ground shift violently under his feet. “That would be incredible. Yes, please let me know.”

  On the way home Danny told Palmiro that back in the North he would never have dreamed of being on the same team with him. Now he was and he felt it was working very well. Still there was something nagging at the back of his mind and he had to get it out. It seemed to him at the philosophers' banquet Palmiro had tried to push attention away from himself onto Pascale, and that had brought disaster on her. Didn't he feel sorry in any way?

  Palmiro was caught off balance. He actually stammered replying. “I...I didn't know that was going to happen. That was a mistake on my part.”

  “But are you sorry?”

  “I'm not sure what you mean. I regret that it happened that way. There hasn't been a day since but it's been somewhere in my mind, to reverse the events of that day. And it's exactly what I'm trying to do now. If that is being sorry, then yes.”

  “I was thinking of something else, a feeling about yourself, not just about the thing that happened. Do you know what I'm saying?'

  “No, I don't, Danny, but I will tell you this. Nothing like that is going to happen to me again.”

  Danny changed the subject. “You know Sarobindo, that guy your boss attacked at the banquet, which was the real reason everyone got stirred up?”

  “What about him?”

  “Well, he's doing his thing at the Font Eterno pretty soon and Eboni and I are going. I thought I should see what all the fuss is about. You want to come with us?”

  “I don't think so. The whole thing seems like a bad joke. But you never know. Thanks for asking me.”

  PART FOUR

  1. PITCHING TENT

  The morning light in the north canyon fell softly on the tops of the Ranch cookhouse and cantina next to it. In the shadow below nothing was moving except a small dog nosing around the edge of the chicken coop hunting for scraps. As the dark peeled away from the canyon walls it was possible to make out a change in the scenery. At about thirty feet from the steps of the mess hall something like an encampment could be seen, a haphazard collection of poles sunk in the ground with coverings stretched across the tops and some of the sides. In the middle was a table made up of planks and trestles and scattered around were boxes and stumps for seats. The colors of the cloths were faded but the effect was brightened with sprays of flowers tied to some of the poles, rock daisies, poppies, marigolds.

  Opposite the desert tent about another thirty feet away, toward the junction of the canyons, there was a smaller more symmetrical structure, a kind of pavilion with white canvas and a single table and chair. Together these tents created a very different feel in the harsh setting of the canyon. They were almost festive and suggested a sense of movement, as if everyone was about to begin a journey, even if there was really nowhere to go.

  Farther up the canyon the livestock were getting restive, awaiting their daily trip to pasture. The two cowboys appeared, ambling along from the men's cabin and plunking themselves down under the tent. A moment later the woman who drove the cattle arrived and joined the men. A door from the cookhouse opened and someone brought out a tray with a pot of coffee, cups, bread and eggs, placing it on the trestle. The little group of cowhands took their breakfast as the wall of beaten gold above their heads descended toward them.

  ***

  The day after Pascale's arrival the first thing she did was go to the water trough and thoroughly wash and rinse the denim dress and blanket she had been given. Once she had hung them out to dry she went to find Zena and tell her she was ready for the promised tour. Zena in her unemotional way seemed pleased and led her out along the canyons. She was right that there wasn't anything to see, as Pascale had already discovered almost all of it for herself, but there were a couple of things which she did not know about. Zena mentioned the canyons went on for quite a few miles before they got to the gates that kept everyone locked in. And she pointed out the steps cut into the north canyon wall a hundred yards down from the men's cabin. Pascale asked her if she had ever been up there and Zena said she hated heights but others had done it.

  Pascale said she'd come back to climb it some other time but first of all she wanted Zena to introduce her to people, so she could say
hello to them properly. Zena's face closed down and she walked away. Pascale ran after.

  “I know this isn’t the way things are done and I’m sorry. But at least tell me the names of the people I already met. How about that woman on the porch with you last night?”

  Zena did not reply.

  “Come on, what harm is there in telling me? If I say hello to her she might come for a walk, too!”

  After a moment finally Zena said, “Katoucha.”

  “That's great! And the man who was there?”

  Again after a moment, “Ravel.”

  “What about the guy with the crippled feet?

  “Orwell.”

  “And the great big man who helps him?

  “Zoltan.”

  “And the lady who runs the cattle?”

  “Magada.”

  “Fantastic! I'm going to talk to all these people, even if they don't talk to me. And then we're going to do something. Not sure what but we'll do something to make everything better. "

  Pascale spent the next days finding opportunities to introduce herself to the people whose names she had discovered. She followed the routine of canyon life, from coffee, eggs and rolls in the morning, through division of chores for those willing to work, to rest in the heat of the afternoon, and then the evening meal. She learned that as well as the cattle the colony produced food from fruit orchards and corn plots located in a branch canyon with its own water line. These places provided work, but it was mostly for just two people, a man and a woman named Louis and Joanne who seemed to treat the orchard and fields as their personal preserve. It was more or less that way too with the cattle drivers. So if you wanted something to do you were restricted to helping around the kitchens and cantina. However, the people she had met the first day never wanted to work in any of these places, so she was able to find them and talk to them easily.

  She sat next to Zoltan and Orwell, greeting them by their names and just keeping them company. They ignored her completely but every now and again she would make a remark about the color of the canyon walls, a gecko that showed itself, or telling the time of the day from the line of the sun on the cliffs. She would offer to bring them drinks of water or tell them little stories about the Northern Homeland, about her favorite holograms or even little bits about her rescue of Palmiro. She would leave them then and go back to be with Katoucha, Ravel and Zena, doing the exact same thing. Zena would reply to her greeting but the others ignored her just as the two men before. She was undeterred and for days kept up the routine of communicating in any way she could.

  One day she brought a bunch of wild flowers and placed them in a glass on the table on the men's porch. Zoltan stopped rubbing his beard and looked at the flowers. “Poppies,” he said slowly.

  “Yes, you're right, they're so pretty, don't you think?”

  Zoltan said, once again, “Poppies...” and that was all.

  But when Pascale finally got up to leave he said, “Where are you going?

  She sat back down again and told him that she was going to the Women's cabin where she also sat and talked with people. Zoltan said, “You should stay.”

  “The women will be waiting for me and I have to go back. But I am happy for the invitation, Zoltan, and I will come back first thing tomorrow.”

  She said goodbye but he didn't respond and the rest of the day his remark lingered with her. That night as she lay in her bunk wearing her shift with her denim dress as a pillow she thought of a solution. She would make a common meeting place, a kind of marquee with poles and blankets, anything she could find. It would be a new space and she was sure people would be drawn to it. She would be able to keep company there with all those who wanted it and not go back and forth between the cabins. The thought of it gave her a happy feeling and she fell asleep thinking that her life in the canyons was perhaps even becoming something beautiful.

  The next day when she went to Zoltan and Orwell's she announced her plan. She said she wanted them to help her set up the tent but first she would have to scavenge round for materials. Once she had enough assembled she would come back for them. She asked them to be her supporters in the scheme. For the first time Orwell's eyes flickered, and Zoltan nodded, “We'll help.”

  She found staves and poles behind the corral and digging around on the floor of the Women's cabin she gathered a half dozen unclaimed blankets. She asked Zena where there were tools and Zena pointed around behind the cabin. “Back there.”

  She discovered a sagging-roofed shed hidden under the canyon wall with a jumble of tools on the floor. She selected a pick, a bar and a club-hammer and dragged them back to the porch where Zena and the others were now watching her keenly. She explained her plan and told them that Zoltan and Orwell from the Men's cabin were going to help. She invited them to join in too. Zena grinned and got up. “Should be interesting.”

  Katoucha cast her one eye past Pascale's shoulder and didn't speak. Ravel said, “We'll visit when you're done.”

  With Zena's help she brought the blankets to the trough where they washed them, beating them energetically on a flat stone, then hanging them to dry. They went back and dragged the rest of the equipment to her chosen spot, in front of the cantina. Then they went to get the men. As always, Zoltan carried Orwell and between them Pascale and Zena carried a chair. When they got to the site Zoltan sat Orwell in the chair and then got to work digging holes and planting poles. It was about midday when they went to get the blankets and spread them across the top of the poles, establishing the first bit of shade in the middle of the canyon. They placed Orwell on his chair in the middle and stood around clapping and laughing.

  Fifty yards up at the junction of the canyons the front door to the cabin flew open and Magus in his boots, pants and tee came striding down towards them. He was yelling, “What the hell do you think you're doing? Take this thing down immediately.”

  Pascale went out to meet him, placing herself between the Ranch governor and the tent. “Sir, there is no rule that says we cannot put up a tent.”

  “Don't quote rules to me. I am the rule!”

  “In which case you can just as easily give permission for our tent as refuse it!”

  “That's far too smart-mouth, lady, for your own good. Just shut up, and take the tent down. You there!” And he gestured to the others. “Take that contraption down at once!”

  Pascale turned to them too and held a hand out at them, stopping them as they automatically began to obey. She turned back to Magus.

  “Listen, sir, this place is intended for the health and pleasure of all. If you want we will build you a tent too, separate from this one. You can come out and sit here in comfort, observing us, taking your meals too, if you wish. Everyone will know that you are in charge.”

  Magus was attracted despite himself. The idea actually had appeal. He had never really been publicly on display before, like an emperor. And in regard to this upstart newcomer it would be a means to an end: all he had to do was appear, and watch and wait for an opportunity to humiliate her. Yet he could not give in too easily. “I'm not sure what your game is, lady. Perhaps you don't realize how bad I can make it for you down here. But, OK, first build my tent and then, if I like it, I'll think about yours.”

  “That’s wonderful, sir! But if we are to do a good job for your tent we need the best materials. Will you give permission to look for things inside the Ranch store?”

  Magus was caught. For his own status and prestige he had to agree. “OK, OK, just show me exactly what you're taking.”

  He stalked away not sure whether to be pleased or angry.

  So it was that Pascale made her desert tent. She let herself into the store with Zena and Zoltan and they discovered pine poles and even a canvas tarpaulin. They were also able to find shears, thick needles and strong cotton thread. Pascale said it would be better to show Magus when they had made the best use of the materials, and so they set to work directly. At first they didn't know what they were doing, but Zena showed herself
an intuitive seamstress and soon she was cutting and shaping and giving directions to everyone else. Attracted by the activity two or three people came out of the cantina to observe, standing around watching as poles were driven in place and the canvas covering took shape. After a day or so watching two of them joined in, Alaqua and Eliot, both grubby and overweight but excited now by an activity never witnessed before at the Ranch.

  It wasn't long then before the private pavilion was complete and Pascale and Zena walked down to Magus' cabin to knock on his door and inform him. Koyo came to the door and said Magus was busy and would come and inspect the tent when he had time. But again Pascale did not wait. She returned directly to finishing the big communal tent. The activity was now more eager than ever, with more poles going up and the remainder of the canvas being used for the central portion. The continued work on the main tent brought Magus out within the hour, furious that his order had been ignored. Again he was shouting before he got there. And again Pascale was quick to intervene.

  “I clearly told you I would look at my tent first and then decide about yours!”

  “But, sir, we were sure you would approve once you saw it. Look how fine we have made it!”

  There was already a chair inside, an antique dining room piece that someone had found in the store loft. Magus despite himself looked impressed but he was not appeased.

  “You have gone against my orders and I want this thing taken down stat. Get it down, now!”

  “But what if we did, what would you say about your own tent? You would judge it a fine thing and then have to give permission to put the communal tent right back up again!”

  The confrontation between the Ranch boss and the engaging newcomer was rapidly drawing a crowd. People in the kitchen and mess hall who had observed the growing structure of the tents and the initial encounter with Magus were pushing out the door to witness this one. Magus normally never had to impose his will publicly. If he beat anyone it was unobserved, and for the rest he relied on the deep paralysis of soul that possessed all Immortals living in the canyons. That is, until now.