A. Warren Merkey

by Far Freedom

  “Welcome, strangers.” She paraded in front of us, giving each of us a look, until she came to White Bridge. “I haven’t seen your kind in many years. I’m happy you are still alive, assuming you prefer life to death.”

  “Lately it is a question to ponder,” White Bridge admitted, “but now I put it out of mind. These are extraordinary singers, perhaps wishing to earn membership in your guild.”

  “They don’t look like singers, sir,” the woman countered in almost musical cadence.

  “Perhaps you heard them today. They sang at the festival.”

  “They’re the ones?” she asked, dramatically lowering her voice. She glanced back and forth at the neighborhood onlookers and at us. “Come into my home, please!” The woman urged us to hurry inside. She closed the door and drew drapes across the windows. We sat on rugs and cushions on the floor of her home. I could hear people walking on her porch, perhaps trying to see in. The gypsy woman then took her time in her kitchen and brought us cups of hot tea and small cookies. She sat with us. “My name is Carmen. What are yours?”

  I smiled at the name as Alex responded with ours. “Are you the manager of this community?” Alex asked.

  “I am.”

  ” You report to people who can execute you at their whim.”

  “Yes.” She frowned at Alex’s words.

  “You should know that we aren’t simply singers. We’re dangerous to befriend.”

  “And you seek friendship.”

  “We can ill afford more enemies, and if we came to you without this warning you would soon join forces against us.”

  “Why should I not send you away at once?”

  “You should. But you offered us hospitality when I believe you were afraid to do so. Or do I misinterpret your need to minimize our contact with your musicians outside?”

  “The Fesn takes his chances with you.”

  “I can’t speak for him.”

  “He’s seen your covered ones?”

  “Not fully but he understands something of their identity. Why do you hesitate to send us away?”

  The woman waited a long moment before replying. She appeared tense. “Most barbarians are not students of history. They seem to have forgot something very important.”

  “What is that?”

  “The sound of a voice so powerful in its lament that it brought down the wrath of She Who Must Not Be Named upon an entire world. I wonder if some would-be scholar might soon warn them that a Golden One has sung again.” Carmen looked at Zakiya and Jessie, undoubtedly wondering which was the Golden One.

  Zakiya reacted by placing a hand on Alex’s forearm. This was an unexpected and disturbing fact, one I wanted to further investigate, but I now understood why Carmen felt she couldn’t turn us away. She knew she couldn’t turn away a Golden One.

  “Do you know of this, White Bridge?” Alex asked.

  “It happened a long time ago,” the alien replied. “And perhaps it happened another time, even further back in history. I remember The Singing and The

  Punishment of the Twin, but there may be no humans who are as old as I am.”

  “The Twin?” Alex asked.

  “The companion world to the Big Ball,” White Bridge explained. “Connected to it but much larger, containing a vast ocean of air, across which people could sail in beautiful airships. All that remains is the tether and the Black Fleet docks at the end of it.”

  Zakiya pulled on Alex’s forearm. “We should leave, Alex, and find a place by ourselves.”

  Alex and Zakiya started to rise from their cushions. Jessie sleepily leaned against me and I hesitated to disturb her. Carmen reacted with surprise. She shook her head, making the long loop chains of her earrings strike her rouged cheeks. “Sit down, sit down! I won’t turn you away at this hour of the night! I can see you’re tired. I know what you must have suffered at the festival. I could hear it in your voices. I could hear you are decent and sensitive persons. I don’t understand why a Golden One comes so humbly to us. I don’t understand why she sang for our dead. I am curious. I want to know how I can help you.”

  Zakiya continued to rise and Alex followed her upward. I moved Jessie and she came tiredly to her feet. Carmen watched Jessie closely as she pulled at the folds of her cloak, hating the restriction of it. Then she stopped and pointed her hood to a place beyond Carmen. A small child walked sleepily into the room, and when he saw our hooded wives he reacted by fearfully attaching himself to Carmen.

  “Don’t be afraid, Mikos,” Carmen said, hugging the child against her leg. “Mama’s not afraid.”

  “Oh, no,” Zakiya said. “No! We must not stay! Not another minute longer!”

  “Oh, how cute!” Jessie said, dropping to her knees in front of mother and son.

  “You are the one!” Carmen declared and then lowered her voice submissively. “It was your voice. You are the Golden One. You wept for us!”

  Jessie halted. She tried to look back at me or Alex through the opening of her hood. She got back to her feet. She leaned into my arms and I held her. We started toward the door, following Alex and Zakiya.

  Carmen picked up her small son and rushed to the door ahead of us. She blocked our exit. “Please! You need us for something. Tell me what it is. I want to help you.”

  “You’re frightened of us,” Zakiya said. “You should be. We should not have come here.”

  “We are frightened by everything!” Carmen declared. “We are always in danger. I’m prepared to run away and hide. It wouldn’t be the first time. Tell me what you need.”

  Zakiya hesitated a long time to speak. “Two friends of mine died not long ago. I hoped to learn if they left any message for me.”

  “Musicians? Who are they?”

  “I’m afraid to name them. That, too, would place you in danger.”

  “And I’m not already in danger? You are here, with a Golden One. The die is cast. I might be a coward but I have no choice. At least make it worth my while to take the risk. Pull back your hoods. Let me look at you.”

  Zakiya pulled back the hood of her cloak. Carmen’s dark eyes studied Zakiya’s face and recognition made her gasp. “You’re the woman in the painting! The singer! The great singer! I am so honored to meet you! Please, come sit back down. This is wonderful! This is sad! It’s the artist and his friend 504 Far Freedom

  you want to know about. I can help you. I can!”

  “I apologize. I’m terribly rude. I could look at her for hours. I can’t easily stop.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, White Bridge. I understand the compulsion, although I thought you wouldn’t respond so much to a person who looks more human than of your race.”

  “I have no explanation, except that I’ve lived so long with humans and have taken their fear of the Golden Ones as my own. To know they can be as gentle and sensitive as Jessie throws my thoughts into a state of hopeful fascination.”

  Jessie also made a strong impression on Carmen, from the moment she removed her hooded cloak, confirming her race. Carmen was terrified of her, yet in only a few moments Jessie made a friend of her. She also made a friend of Carmen’s son. Mikos now possessed several of Jessie’s beautiful feathers, and it was not the first time she gladly sacrificed some of her plumage to a small child.

  “Are you male or female, or shouldn’t I ask?” I inquired of White Bridge.

  “I suppose I’m too old for it to matter. I’m a potential male. Even Fesn don’t know the gender of a fellow Fesn. If they inquire, it’s because their friendship has reached a depth in which marriage and family can be considered. In relation to human culture it would seem to have its advantages toward stability, yet it, too, has its comedy. I appreciate the art of life built around the volatility of human sexual relationships. May I ask how you relate to Jessie?”

  “I love her. She’s my wife and the mother of my son.”

  Jessie stirred on her pallet. She wasn’t sleeping. She was never one to jump right out of bed in the morning. It didn’t hel
p that our sleep patterns were disrupted.

  “You’re a fortunate human, Samuel Lee. I can’t imagine why you put yourselves at such risk in this place.”

  “We wanted to help Alex and Zakiya.”

  “How can you help them? I don’t mean to be critical. I worry that you are in danger.”

  Jessie sat up and stretched. The small amount of light seeping in from slits in the window drapes made her arms and head glitter. The tiny feathers created a rainbow iridescence, as their microscopic structure fractured the light like thousands of small diffraction gratings.

  “This world isn’t our final destination. We need Alex and Zakiya for what lies ahead. We’re with them because we’re a reminder to them to be careful.”

  “Contacting their son would seem a daunting challenge, Samuel Lee. Are they such capable people?”

  “Wait and see.”

  Jessie came to a sitting position on her pallet on the floor. She raised her knees and hugged them. She was not feeling right. When she smiled at me it was a painful smile. I helped her to her feet. She nodded a greeting to White Bridge.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked, already knowing.

  “I’m OK,” she replied, knowing I knew better.

  “Am I still your partner?”

  She leaned into my chest and I held her against me. I always imagined I

  could feel our hearts merge into identical rhythm. “Always. But now I’m the Jessie who has this horrible memory of butchered people stuck in her mind. I asked myself why such a thing could happen, all night long. And this morning I woke up knowing the answer. Knowing how to hate. I’m sorry. This is a bad way to start the day.”

  White Bridge opened a gap in the drapes and peeked out upon the courtyard. “Many people,” he said.

  “They are so nosy!” I turned around to see Carmen in the doorway to our room.

  We washed and ate breakfast. The people outside waited. Carmen seemed in no hurry. I helped her clear away the breakfast dishes.

  “The people outside?” I queried.

  “They know about you. They want to see you.”

  “You told them?” Zakiya said with near anger, joining us in the kitchen.

  “You can’t keep secrets here! They knew there was something important about the five of you. I needed to perform duties that would further arouse their interest. I needed their help. How can I lead them if they don’t trust me?”

  “Do you think such a gathering is wise?”

  “No, but I can’t do anything about it! We’re not closely monitored by the Black Fleet. Their attention is intermittent and careless, although quite lethal when it decides to act. We don’t give them reason to suspect us of anything. We’re fortunate to have work we love and privileges greater than average. They enjoy music almost as much as they enjoy killing. You came to the right people to help you.”

  “We hear that one can become an officer of the Black Fleet only by fighting in the games.”

  “Yes, Zakiya. Why speak of this?”

  “It means the Fleet derives its membership from the general population of Oz.”

  “Oz? Yes, I’ve heard that name for our home.”

  “It means the moral defect is likely present in some of your people.”

  “What moral defect?”

  “Perhaps that’s too simplistic. There were always barbarians among us, throughout human history, those without conscience or without the sensitivity to care for the well-being of others. I think not all Black Fleet officers are totally without conscience, just as I think many of your own people may have that defect of character.”

  “I don’t like where your words lead, Zakiya. You think our musicians are potential Black Fleet members, perhaps at least willing to spy for them?”

  “Just as you’re responsible for those under your management, I also have my responsibilities. These thoughts I have about probabilities of human character persist. The more people who know of us, the greater the chance that bad things will happen. You’re willing to take the risk. I’m not.”

  “You won’t let us help you?”

  “Only as far as learning something about Rafael and Daidaunkh.”

  “I knew those who knew him. Most are dead. Rafael wouldn’t stay with us or with any of our kindred guilds. The Rhyan guarded him. A few risked their lives to learn from him and bring him food. I once met the Rhyan and wanted to befriend him, but he wasn’t interested in me. Can you tell me something about him?”

  “He and Rafael loved the same woman, Rafael’s wife. The woman in many

  of his paintings. I’m afraid both of them were more interested in dying than in living.”

  “Many feel it’s better to die well than to live badly.”

  “I don’t want you to die because of me, Carmen.”

  “How can I make you understand? It is my honor to do anything for you.”

  “How can I make you understand? Too many people have died because of me. I have no right to ask anything of you.”

  “But you want to save your son!” Carmen argued. “You would do the same for me!”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do for you! Save your son! You must think of Mikos first.”

  “I’ve failed my people,” Carmen struggled to say. “They want so much to help you. I know we’re too corrupt to trust, but that’s what they want, and I’ve failed them. Our lives are secured only by trust, and there’s so little trust. Yes, there are those who will always betray us. I’m sorry we’re so easily able to execute our betrayers. I’m sorry it seems not to purify us. I’m sorry we can’t have what we want. You’re like a miracle to us, something that will never happen again. I don’t know how it is for others of my people, but when the Black Fleet murdered Rafael and the Rhyan, it was a turning point in my life. When they burned the art museum and damaged others that kept copies of Rafael’s work, it further hardened my feelings. I don’t know what actions I’ll take because of this change in me, I only know that almost everything is different for me now. As if all my former life was a lie, a stage role. You don’t know how difficult it was for me to contain myself last night when I discovered who you were. You are a legend among us! Everyone has waited for you to return. All I could do was fall back on my craft and act a lesser feeling than I really felt.”

  “Are you finished?” Zakiya seemed unmoved by Carmen’s words.

  “No! I was awake all night arranging for this day. I was able to convince one person who knew Rafael to come here. I thought to invite him because I knew he had another painting in which you appear. I’ll see if he’s arrived.”

  Carmen went to the rear of the apartment and opened a door. Several people stood there and peered into the kitchen. A young man among them stepped forward and entered the kitchen carrying a long tube of something rolled up. Carmen shut the door in the faces of the others.

  When his eyes found Zakiya the young man smiled. Zakiya went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. In another moment she was hugging him. “Percival. I’m so happy you’re still alive.”

  “So am I! I thought I would never see you again.” And somberly: “Do you know about Rafael?”

  “I know.”

  “He told me to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “He didn’t say, but he spoke very strongly and positively. He seemed happy. Even Daidaunkh was in good spirits. The last time I visited them, he got me drunk.”

  Zakiya introduced us to Percival. He was awestruck by Jessie until she smiled warmly and took his hand in greeting. Zakiya recounted the part Percival played in her previous trip to Oz. Percival described the museum encounter with details we hadn’t heard from Zakiya.

  “I brought this for you,” Percival said. He unrolled the tube. He had to stand on a chair to hold the large oil painting where all could see it comfortably. Zakiya was in the center of the picture, wearing a yellow dress that was familiar to us. She was surrounded by other people and by a strange pyramid. I recognized Samson and perhaps Fred. On
e other I deduced was the Rhyan Daidaunkh.

  “Here is Sammy with Gator,” Zakiya said, touching the image of Samson. “Here is Denna as we last saw her before she died. Fred. Shorty the Gatekeeper. Daidaunkh. And Rafael. This may be the only self-portrait of Rafael.”

  ” Samson isn’t with you this time?” Percival asked.

  “Samson died, Percival,” Zakiya said with that edge of grief that ruined the beauty of her voice.

  Percival paused, upset at this news, and his expression gave Zakiya his condolences. “Forever dead?” he asked tentatively. “I thought medicine in the Union was…”

  “A small part of him remains. I have very little hope he can be restored.” When Zakiya turned away, Percival began rolling up the painting. When he had it rolled he brought it to her. Zakiya took it and handed it to a surprised Carmen. “Keep it safe. Others will want to see it someday. Percival, I take it from you only to make you safer.”

  “I’m safe enough. A small voice whispered in my ear. She advised me to come here. Why did Samson die? How did he die? We know he got back to Earth. We saw the Mother Earth Opera.”

  “Our ship was boarded by three barbarians. They killed many of us but only Samson couldn’t be revived.”

  “Your ship?” Carmen asked. “Your ship was not destroyed?”

  “We survived.”

  “That’s wonderful! But… how could you survive? They are supposed to be invincible. Only She Who Must Not Be Named can destroy them.”

  “We survived.”

  “You had to kill them! As long as they breathed, they would not stop their attack. You killed them! The Cruel Ones can be defeated!”

  “It means no such thing, Carmen. You don’t know how many there are. This place you call home is perhaps the finest treasure the Black Fleet ever stole but it’s a tiny piece of their total domain. The Union of Stars is vast, yet it’s contained by the Black Fleet like the yolk within an egg. They’re at once the protectors and the consumers of the Union. At some point they may decide the Union is an unnecessary structure. They will break the yolk.”