by Frank Lauria
When he reached Malta he cradled her in his arms, rocking her against his chest as he crooned the child’s song.
She pulled away. “The knife,” she said sadly, “you must take it.”
“Why?” he whispered, knowing the answer. Knowing the emptiness.
“So that I may die and fulfill my Karma,” she said. She touched his cheek with her cool hand. “Everything in me resists death. But it must be.”
“I can’t lose you again.” Orient held her close and inhaled the cedar scent of her hair.
“Please, you must,” she insisted, “or I will never be free to love you again, through other cycles.”
Reluctantly he took the long handle in his hands. Malta’s hands tensed and scratched at his wrists, a sudden surge of fear arching her back. She sobbed wildly, coiling away from him.
He wrenched the knife from her body and the sobs became a long, low groan that cut short as she fell through his arms to the table.
A sound below him pulled him away from his grief.
The priest was trying to crawl from beneath an avalanche of refuse. The young girl was tugging at the rubble that pinned him.
A cluster of hooded figures was lurching toward them, clawing at the air as they moved. Other groups were flailing at each other, fighting among themselves, digging objects from the ground to use as weapons.
He saw an old woman reach the child and slash her throat with a jagged piece of metal. Three cloaked figures converged on the priest and began pounding methodically at his helpless body with heavy objects.
Above him, the dark sun careened in the departing sky, the wild thunder of its fall twisting into a roar of blackness. Orient felt the sound and dove through the darkness toward the three points of light that promised dim warmth against the sudden cold…
A drenching rain was beating down on the stadium. Orient sat stunned in the drumming downpour, staring ahead as streams of water wriggled down his matted hair, and along the sides of his face, slipping under the neck of his damp shirt.
On the field the policemen were clearing a path for the men who were wheeling Kane Mulnew back along the aisle. One of the men had thrown his raincoat over her and two others held umbrellas over the chair.
Orient looked back into the stands and saw the wide, silent lines of people bunching at the exits.
The television equipment was rapidly being removed from the field and the seats on the arena floor were almost empty.
Just as Orient understood that Susej had failed he understood that he had gained. The faith of millions had been frustrated.
It would take time before that faith would be offered again.
His eyes went to the platform.
Susej stood alone, watching the receding crowd. He turned his head and looked up at where Orient was sitting. For a long moment he stared up at Orient. Then he started walking very slowly and deliberately down the ramp.
Something inside Orient trembled, then gave way as he watched Susej take a few careful steps, stagger, then fall to his knees.
Orient felt the last clinging ebbs of alien energy recede from his body, releasing his consciousness.
The priest was falling forward, rolling heavily to the edge of the grass, and coming to rest at the feet of one of the soldiers.
The priest’s head fell back, his face staring up at the hard, steady rain as the soldier knelt beside him. The soldier waved frantically to the dugout. A pair of policemen, carrying a stretcher, ran toward the inert body.
Susej was finished.
And Malta was free.
Orient waited until the swarm of men at the arena entrance had swallowed the stretcher and closed it off from sight before getting up and moving to the stairs.
When he reached the street he found the rain had slackened to a drizzle.
APPENDIX
Fu/Return (The Turning Point)
above K’UN the receptive, earth
below CHEN the arousing, thunder
The idea of a turning point arises from the fact that after the dark lines have pushed all of the light lines upward and out of the hexagram, another light line enters the hexagram from below. The time of darkness is past. The winter solstice brings the victory of light. This hexagram is linked with the eleventh month, the month of the solstice (December-January).
THE JUDGMENT
RETURN. Success.
Going out and coming in without error.
Friends come without blame.
To and fro goes the way.
On the seventh day comes return.
It furthers one to have somewhere to go.
After a time of decay comes the turning point. The powerful light that has been banished returns. There is movement, but it is not brought about by force. The upper trigram K’un is characterized by devotion; thus the movement is natural, arising spontaneously. For this reason the transformation of the old becomes easy. The old is discarded and the new is introduced. Both measures accord with the times; therefore no harm results. Societies of people sharing the same views are formed. But since these groups come together in full public knowledge and are in harmony with the time, all selfish separatist tendencies are excluded, and no mistake is made. The idea of RETURN is based on the course of nature. The movement is cyclic, and the course completes itself. Therefore it is not necessary to hasten anything artificially. Everything comes of itself at the appointed time. This is the meaning of heaven and earth.
All movements are accomplished in six stages and the seventh brings return. Thus the winter solstice, with which the decline of the year begins, comes in the seventh month after the summer solstice; so too sunrise comes in the seventh double hour after sunset. Therefore seven is the number of the young light, and it arises when six, the number of the great darkness, is increased by one. In this way the state of rest gives place to movement.
THE IMAGE
Thunder within the earth:
The image of THE TURNING POINT.
Thus the kings of antiquity closed the passes
At the time of solstice.
Merchants and strangers did not go about,
And the ruler
Did not travel through the provinces.
The winter solstice has always been celebrated in China as the resting time of the year—a custom that survives in the time of rest observed at the new year. In winter the life energy, symbolized by thunder, the Arousing, is still underground. Movement is just at its beginning; therefore it must be strengthened by rest, so that it will not be dissipated by being used prematurely. This principle, i.e., of allowing energy that is renewing itself to be reinforced by rest, applies to all similar situations. The return of health after illness, the return of understanding after an estrangement: everything must be treated tenderly and with care at the beginning, so that the return may lead to a flowering.
THE LINES
O Nine at the beginning means:
Return from a short distance.