The Child Eater

by Rachel Pollack

  He reached into Eternity and pulled out a card. It showed a woman sitting up in bed weeping with her hands over her face. The night sky was behind her, black with pinpoints of stars, and suspended in the air were nine swords, all horizontal and one above the other, like the steps of a ladder. The bottom sword was dark and heavy, a weapon of stone, and then each one became successively lighter, until the last was not a sword at all but a blaze of brightness stroked across the night.

  Who is she? he wondered, as if somehow he should know her. It was just a drawing, wasn’t it? How could it—? He cried aloud. Of course! It was Florian! All those years he’d studied her works, thought of himself as her greatest disciple, he hadn’t understood anything. Her doctrines, her discoveries, all her achievements, they weren’t driven by glory, or even just a yearning for wisdom. They came from her deep understanding of the world’s pain. What was it she’d put over the Gate of Light leading into the Academy? “Beg the aid of the Masters, for they alone shall help you.”

  Matyas stared and stared until the bed vanished, and the woman, and only the swords remained, huge before him, a ladder to the sky. A True Ladder, for what was truer than sorrow for the world’s suffering? He wrapped up the cards and put them in his waistband, then slowly began to climb, clumsy at first, then with determination, even grace, until he reached the final rung, the beam of light, and stepped off.

  He was soaring over the city, wind in his face, trouser legs flapping like flags in a storm before he even realized he was doing it. Flying! He was doing it. At last, after all these years. Down below, the lights and stones of the city ran together, and in the midst of the wind, he could hear human voices, and the chatter of birds. He laughed and his body vaulted upward, he inclined his head and tilted back toward the ground. When he closed his eyes, the air swirled all around him and he could almost believe that he himself did nothing and the world was simply turning beneath him. So this is it, he thought. It was never a trick, or a spell, or anything a teacher or a power could give you. It was simply a way of being.

  Hovering in the air, he laughed suddenly. Florian had told him he was looking in the wrong place and he’d run across the world searching for the right one. But what she’d meant was any place but inside himself. And the other thing? The one he didn’t hear? The wrong time. It could only happen when he was ready.

  He laughed again and spun joyously in the air.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  JACK/SIMON

  Jack stared, afraid to move or speak. Rebecca was right there, in the room. She wore the purple dress she’d had on when he’d first met her. Her hair shone brightly as it flowed over her shoulders. And it wasn’t just her hair—there were lights all around her, her clothes, her face. No, he realized suddenly, she was light. A thousand tiny lights, like butterflies, had taken the shape of his beloved Rebecca. “It’s just another dream,” he whispered, sad now, for that meant he was about to wake up. He’d read that somewhere, when you’re dreaming and you realize it you wake up.

  “No,” Rebecca said, as if she’d heard his thoughts (but that was what she did, wasn’t it? She and Simon?). “This is not my body but I am here. The Splendor have given me this gift so that I can talk to you.”

  “The Splendor?”

  “The name for the lights you see. Jack, you must listen to me.”

  He sat up now. He wanted so much to lie to her, to tell her everything was all right. Instead, he said, “Bec, I’ve killed him. I killed Simon.”

  “No! Simon is alive but he needs your help. He is trying to escape Reina right now, but he can’t do it without you.”

  Jack jumped up. “What do I do?”

  “He needs the cards and you’re the only one who can take them to him.”

  “You mean the Tarot cards? Oh my God, Bec, I got rid of them.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, no. The Tarot of Eternity can never be destroyed. Didn’t I tell you that?”

  “I tore them up. I burned them.”

  “Please, Jack, you have to listen to me. Whatever you or I did doesn’t matter. Only right now matters. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then go around the back of the house. You will see the cards there, wrapped in blue cloth. As soon as you pick them up, you will see Simon. You won’t be able to hand him the cards, but you can throw them to him. That is all you have to do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Yes I do.”

  “Good. I love you, Jack Wisdom. I love you forever.”

  “I love you, too,” Jack shouted. He was already running for the door.

  Outside, it was evening but the sky was bright and red. Had the Sun just set? He couldn’t remember what time it was. Jack pushed any such thoughts away as he searched the backyard. There it was, a small blue package lying in the grass. To his amazement, the squirrels were there, standing on either side, like guards.

  For a moment, Jack’s old fears stopped him. Something in him tried to say, “This is insane,” or even, “It’s a trick, she’s trying to hurt you.” No, he told himself, the trick was Reina’s. He made Jack doubt himself. Doubt Rebecca. Doubt Simon. It was as if Reina was whispering in his ear, telling him lies. He’d done it all Jack’s life, ever since that day on the baseball field. It was Reina, Frederick Reina, who’d felt all over his head only to say, “You’re not ready,” and sent him home. Jack had thought he was safe but Reina had never left him. He’d been there all Jack’s life, whispering to him, making him doubt.

  Instead of freeing Jack, this knowledge just weighed him down. All the terrible mistakes he’d made—turning against Rebecca, giving Simon to the monster—they’d all come about because of Reina. How could Jack hope to beat him?

  And then something rose up in Jack. This wasn’t about him anymore, it was about Simon. That’s what Reina had meant when he’d said Jack wasn’t ready. He was waiting for Simon.

  “You son of a bitch!” he shouted. “You can’t have him!”

  Jack Wisdom picked up the cards and the sky caught fire.

  He screamed and jumped back. A wall of flame had appeared in front of him but he was okay, he wasn’t hurt.

  He squinted into the blaze. He could see shapes on the other side . . . Simon was there! His precious boy was running right toward him. Only . . . Simon was running with all his might but he couldn’t seem to get any closer. Behind Simon, Dr. Frederick Reina walked slowly forward, gaining on the boy with every step. Reina was smiling, and in his right hand he held a stone knife.

  Through the fire, Jack called, “Simon!”

  “Daddy,” Simon cried, “help me!”

  Jack didn’t know what to do. He tried again to get through the fire but the heat pushed him back. If he tried to throw Simon the cards, would flames burn them up? Trust Rebecca, he told himself. The Tarot of Eternity can never be destroyed. He hurled the package toward his son.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  MATYAS

  He rolled through the air, he sped forward, he darted back, he turned over like a swimmer so he could watch the sky instead of the Earth. Below him the forests and villages, the rivers and mountains, rolled out like a ribbon off a spool. He remembered all the times he’d imagined flying, all the times he’d demanded the secret, and realized it was always to become better than everyone else. To escape his past, escape himself. He’d never thought about the absolute joy.

  Even though he knew it was cold, the way you know the Sun rises in the east, he didn’t feel it. He no longer felt hungry, and the wind appeared to have cleansed his wounds and washed away the blood from the beating the men had given him when he’d tried to steal their lord’s wallet. He laughed and gave thanks that he’d been so bad a pickpocket.

  Where should he go? No, that wasn’t the question, he knew very well where he needed to go, what he had to do. But how? How could he even figure out the direction? It was only when he looked down and saw the twisted forest of the College of Trees, and not long after that the Library of Ants, that he real
ized he didn’t need to control where he went. The flying carried its own knowledge.

  Streams of red dust clung briefly to his face and arms, only to let go and be carried off behind him. He looked down and saw the Great Rock, the Child Eater’s hiding place. When he saw the circle of chanters and the mountainous woman and then the man in the thin green robe, arm raised as if to draw down lightning, he realized that flying could free you from time as well as the Earth.

  If he thought that he might go back before his great crime, he soon gave up the hope when he came to a place of very cold air and discovered himself drifting down to a small valley. As the ground became clearer, he could see withered trees and dull flowers. I did this, he thought, and an immense sadness weighed him down. Maybe they escaped. Maybe he’d ruined the garden but the Guardians had shaken off his foolish, hateful spell as soon as he’d stepped away. Then he saw them and all hope vanished.

  Two squirrels, one red, one gray, stood facing him, side by side, each with a glittering walnut in its front paws, one of silver, the other gold. Matyas spread himself face down in the dirt. “Forgive me,” he said, “though I do not deserve it.”

  From somewhere inside him, he heard the girl’s voice. “It is not for us to forgive.”

  Matyas raised himself to his knees, bowed his head. “I understand. What I have done cannot be undone and therefore never forgiven.”

  The boy said, “No, no, Matyas. You understand nothing. You did what was necessary.”

  He lifted his head to squint at them. He remembered Veil, years ago, telling him that everyone has a purpose and sometimes that purpose belongs to something bigger than themselves. He clung to this idea only for a second before he realized he had to let it go. The crime was still real. He said, “What is given cannot be taken back. I cannot break my own spell.”

  “Of course not,” the girl said.

  “But I can give you something new. A Spell of Alleviance.” He tried to think, but no magic came other than a statement that somehow felt right. “Freedom will come with the one thousandth child.”

  The voice of the boy sighed. “Thank you, Master Matyas.”

  The girl added, “You have given and we have accepted. We release you and bless you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Matyas said. “All I do is cause pain.”

  The red one shook its head, and the gold walnut flashed with light. Within Matyas, the boy’s voice said, “Your understanding is not necessary. Only your actions. But if you wish, you may go to the One Who Knows.” With that, both squirrels ran off behind the trees.

  “What do I do?” Matyas said. He looked all around but they were gone. Maybe, he thought, the Tarot of Eternity would help him. He took the wrapped cards from his waistband. But when he tried to remove the blue cloth, the cards gave off such intense light that he could hardly bear to hold them, and he wrapped them up again.

  The One Who Knows. Veil? Panic seized him at the thought of facing her, but then he realized they meant someone else. Someone older.

  Matyas closed his eyes, moved his arms away from his sides and let himself become lighter than dust. He flew for a long time now, empty of distractions, with nothing more than glimpses of the blurred Earth below him. Only when he saw a low stubble of hills and a stand of dark trees did he let himself descend.

  The trees were so entwined there was no way into them, but he knew what to do. Hadn’t he seen it years earlier? “Come around me,” he said, and the Splendor appeared, a thousand dazzling lights. “Open the way.” As soon as he’d said it, the lights touched the trees and a path opened. He walked inside without hesitation, though he dreaded what he might hear.

  The Kallistocha burned so brightly Matyas could not look at it but only stared at the ground, where pebbles of a hundred colors lay all around the black stick. “My lord,” Matyas said, “help me. Once you called me Master and told me I would fly. I gave my life to that dream and all I have done is destroy what is good and necessary. You spoke of darkness and I thought you meant the color of the sky. Now my soul is black as ink. Help me.”

  The Prince looked directly at him, all mockery gone from the golden eyes. “You did what was necessary, Matyas. And now you are free. Accept it.”

  “No! How can you say that? I cursed the Guardians. I met the Child Eater and I did nothing. I knew his name and I still did nothing.”

  “Matyas. Listen to me. There was nothing you could have done. Knowing his name allows you to create a spear but you are not the one to hurl it. The Child Eater is beyond you. He was beyond the Guardians as well—there was no way for them to touch him, either. But now your foolish spell has put them in a form where one day they will help the thousandth child. That is all that matters. All things do what they must. Be at peace, Matyas. Your anger has served the future.”

  “Thank you,” Matyas said. He bowed his head in preparation for leaving. About to back away, he stopped. “Master of Wisdom,” he said. “Great holy Prince. May I ask a question?”

  “Yes,” the Kallistocha said.

  “Federaynak. He came here, didn’t he? This is what the Victors did to you?”

  Light flashed in the Prince’s face so brightly Matyas had to force himself not to look away. They had been speaking in the Phase of the Fifth Chamber, but now the Prince moved to the Shattered Face, the tongue reserved only for the deepest pain. He said, “When they put me here, this place was the most blessed on all the shining Earth. I could sing and the woods would carry the song to my sisters and brothers across the world. Like a child, I thought the Angels had tempered their punishment with mercy. Do you see, Matyas? You are not the only foolish one.”

  Matyas whispered, “In the world of men, beauty attracts ugliness.”

  “Yes. He came, just after he found the Spell of Extension. He had taken the first child and was looking for a place to . . . consume her.”

  “And he thought of you because Joachim had come here, yes?”

  “Joachim and I revealed the Tarot of Eternity here.”

  “Revealed?”

  “Of course. Did you think Joachim created it? Did you think I invented it? The Tarot of Eternity has always existed. The Creator used it to shape the world. It was Eternity that told Her She could not create a world without the Spell of Extension.”

  Matyas rocked back and forth, holding his arms. He discovered he could understand the Child Eater, for if it was him he would have come here as well. For Federaynak, what better way to show he had gone beyond his teacher, his Master Joachim?

  “Matyas,” the Prince said softly, “you are not him.”

  A great shudder ran through Matyas, so powerful he thought at first it was the Earth. “Thank you,” he said again.

  “Now go. Veil would like to see you.”

  Veil. Matyas left the grove, feeling the trees close behind him. As soon as he stood under the clear sky, he opened his arms and left the ground. For a moment he was aware of a filthy boy who had hidden behind a rock and now was trying to sound important as he did his best to summon the Splendor. He laughed as he moved through the night sky. We will meet three times, though two shall be one.

  Matyas came down in the courtyard, with no idea what time it was, what year it was, only that it was night and no one was there. He ran up the narrow stairs, aware for the first time that every step was a story, whether of pain or joy, for the Tower of Heaven was built with human passions.

  He found her in her wooden chair, back straight, hands on her knees as she stared out of the window. Her hair flew around, tangled up in itself, while a yellow and blue dress hung loosely on her skeletal shoulders. She was nearly transparent now, as thin as air, and he knew that time had caught up with her. A sweet smell filled the room.

  Matyas knelt down and took her hand, so feathery he had to look to make sure he was holding it. “Mistress—” he began, but her free hand waved him to silence as gracefully as a silk stream.

  “Please, child,” she said. “No apologies. You did what I needed you to do
. You always did what was needed.”

  He smiled. “You haven’t called me ‘child’ in a long time.”

  Her laughter was dry and faint. “I didn’t want to insult you.”

  “I brought you a gift.”

  “Ah. How nice. Old ladies like presents, you know.”

  He removed the blue package and held it out to her. “Oh good,” she said. As she began to unravel the cloth, Matyas averted his eyes but no flash came out, and when he looked they were just painted cards spread out in her narrow lap. Softly, she said, “Hello, Joachim. It’s been a long time.” She held up the card that showed a young man on the edge of a cliff with spirals of light behind him. A little louder, she said, “Do you know, Matyas, that light travels? I suppose that’s why it can be dark in one place and light in another. And here’s the curious thing. Light always travels at the same speed. Time can slow down or accelerate, people can get bigger or smaller, but light always remains the same. Isn’t that wonderful? What do you suppose it tells us?” She put the card with the others and set the pack in her lap.

  Matyas began to cry, for he knew very well what she was telling him. For each of us, time must end. To deny this can only banish us from the light. He said, “What will happen now? Here, with the Academy?”

  She shrugged, the gentlest movement. “No doubt Lukhanan will become undisputed Master. It’s all he desires.”

  “Lukhanan is a fool.”

  “Of course. Remember, Matyas—the scholar hears of the Gate and tries every day to undo the lock.”

  Matyas responded, “The student hears of the Gate and tries to squeeze between the bars.”

  “The Fool hears of the Gate and laughs.”

  “Without laughter the Gate would never open.”

  Veil clapped her hands. “Well done,” she said. “I’ve missed you.” She leaned back now and closed her eyes. “Brush my hair?” she said.

  “I will be very happy to brush your hair.” The old brush felt heavy and cold at first, but it warmed up as he ran it through the fine strands, careful to separate the tangles rather than pull at them. At first it was difficult, for no one had brushed her hair in a long time, but after a few minutes he could slide the brush in smooth, easy strokes, moving her hair down her back like a waterfall.