“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “Yes, you must. There’s nothing to be afraid of over there. It’s just rocks and things. Remember? We went there together so many times! It’s a very short swim from the Dark Rock. It’s already on the edge of the other side.”
Yes, but it will be completely different going there alone, she thought.
“Remember our rock? Nose rock?” He nudged her playfully, making her giggle despite herself. But he grew somber quickly. “If you can’t swim away, go to the caves behind the nose rock.”
“All right,” she said in a small voice.
“Promise me that whatever you do, you will not come back to this side. Never…”
She kicked the side of the bed. “I promise, but … what will happen to me if– if I can’t swim to the fishermen? What will happen if I go to the other side?” she asked quietly, picking at the crocodile he had given her.
He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I promise you– No, I swear on Shadow–” he insisted, taking the small figure of the crocodile in his hand, “that I will find a way to make sure you are safe!” He looked down into her small, frightened face.
“I know you will,” she smiled her wide toothy smile, and looked up at him hopefully, “Maybe one day we’ll see each other again?” she asked timidly.
“Of course!” he said, fighting back the tears he did not want her to see.
Because she was only eleven years old. She was his little sister.
She was Cypress.
6
The Last Dawn, The First Dawn
I cannot see the Sun
Our golden one!
No, Dear One, you will not see her,
Not today.
She is hidden by clouds
Grey and dark.
I hear the thunder of waves
And the roaring wind
But I do not see the Sun
Our golden one.
Dear One, you will not see her,
Not today.
I weep with fear
I cry in pain
But the Sun?
She is not here; she is gone.
You will not see her,
Dear One.
Today, you will not see the Sun,
But the dark clouds may be your friends
And the towering waves your refuge.
The swirling winds can carry you
And the wild sea can conceal.
But the Sun,
Our golden one?
You do not want to see her.
Not today.
She could not help you.
Not today.
She could neither carry nor conceal
But in her golden glory reveal
And forge for you
A certain grave.
No, you will not see her.
Not today.
She stood barefoot at the top of the rock facing the sea. She was so small and slight that it seemed the wind might just pick her up and carry her away… away from the rock and the group of men that stood around her. They were all dressed in white robes: the men and the girl before them. Below, the sea churned angrily, and above, the sky bellowed. It was dawn. It was dark.
They watched as she fell like a pebble into the livid waters. And the wind gnashed from all directions. She was lost instantly, so they turned away from the edge of the rock and walked away slowly. It was done.
The waves are not against you,
Dear One.
The wind does not fight you,
Dear One.
Forget the Sun
Our golden one.
And be grateful
She is gone.
7
THE HUNTER
Orion…
It was as though the night sky spoke: still and endless.
Shadow, Orion thought.
It is time for the Hunter.
The Sun called out to her brother,
Orion.
The Dark shall do
What Light cannot.
It is time for the Hunter to walk.
The Hunter walks where Twilight walks,
Orion.
The Dark shall do
What Light cannot.
Out of the window he could see the constellation of the Hunter. He opened the window. The frigid air bit, but Orion did not flinch. He looked up at his namesake in the black sky.
Yes, Shadow.
8
Father Roland Griffith, S.J. (Imm.) trudged slowly up the hill through the crisp snow. He stopped. His immediate destination lay at the top of the hill: a brick, three-story house framed by two tall, naked oak trees and the clear blue of the early morning sky. It was time to go back… Back? He wondered why he thought of it as going back. Surely, it was just a place. Those words ‘going back,’ suggested a tie, an intimacy. He tried again: it was time to go there again… was that better? Intellectually, it helped to create distance. Emotional distance. Geographically, the place remained just as far… just as close.
Further than the house at the top of the hill. Closer than Rome. Geographically speaking these were relative truths with regard to his current position upon this earth.
The house at the top of the hill had been a destination too. Six months ago this was the place he wanted to go back to. Six months ago, he had been a different man. Six months ago, he had been mortal… briefly, passingly mortal. But I am still mortal, he told himself. I live, do I not? And I can die…
Yes, but I no longer say, I will die. Six months and a certainty apart…
From mortal to immortal, passing through the house at the top of the hill. Father Griffith continued to trudge through the snow-covered undergrowth until he reached the house. Having removed his thick, snow-crusted boots, Father Griffith opened the door softly for it was barely seven in the morning; he did not want to disturb the other inhabitant who, Father Griffith knew, generally rose closer to eight.
“Is that you, Roland?” Father Adam Norwood, provincial superior of the New York province, called out.
“Yes, Father,” Father Griffith replied, entering the inviting warmth of the living room where Father Norwood was seated in a reclining armchair next to the fireplace. He had a kind smile and incisive yet placid, blue eyes.
“Nice brisk walk first thing in the morning?” Father Norwood beamed. “Come, sit next to the fire.”
“Ahhh… yes...” Father Griffith eased himself into a companion armchair facing the gently crackling fire. “You’re up early, Father. And you made the fire, too!”
“Yes, and coffee–” Father Norwood lifted a steaming chipped, dark green mug and took a sip.
“Oh, I think I will join you.” Father Griffith rose and padded to the kitchen. Having taken off his heavy boots, his feet, shod in thick woolen socks, made no noise on the carpet. He returned bearing a red mug and slowly took a seat before the fireplace. He said nothing as he took a careful sip of coffee and gazed into the fire.
“The phoenix…” Father Norwood said softly.
“I’m sorry, Father?” Father Griffith looked puzzled.
Father Norwood smiled. “The phoenix born of fire, Roland. The purest bird, the strongest bird, is the phoenix born of fire.”
Father Griffith returned his gaze to the fire. There was an unreadable expression upon his face. “After a great deal of thought, I believe I would be best suited for the posting in the Sudan,” he said finally.
Father Norwood nodded. “Very well.”
“The need is great there–” Father Griffith paused.
“The need is great… everywhere.”
Father Griffith took a deep breath. “But before I leave for the Sudan, I will be going somewhere far closer for a couple of days. I need to – no, I have decided to travel to New Jersey this weekend.”
“As the Book of Proverbs tells us, ‘…the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you.’” Father Norwood said softly.
�
��No, indeed…” Father Griffith cleared his throat. “I received a letter from Xavier Redd a week ago inviting me, and the … others, to LiGa headquarters. I understand he wants to give us some information.”
“You must do as you think best, Roland.”
“It has been almost six months since the tournament.”
“Yes.”
“Xavier writes that at this point the physiology should have settled into its new state, and he wants to explain what to expect next.”
“It is your body, Roland. Your physiology.”
“Yes.”
“On a completely different point, if you have time–” Father Norwood shook his head and sighed, “you might meet with a Mr. Evan Nightshade from the World Institute for Development and Sociology. He has been calling me for two weeks. He tells me he will be in the city this Friday and is very interested in meeting with you.”
“Do you know what he wants to talk to me about?”
“He mentioned he was involved in developing community-based sanitation efforts focusing on the African continent,” Father Norwood replied, waving vaguely. “I may have gotten it wrong, though, as I listened with only half an ear, I must admit.”
Father Griffith laughed. “I will call him.”
“I hope it won’t interfere with your trip to New Jersey.”
Father Griffith shook his head. “I was planning to leave Friday evening. If I can meet with this Mr. Nightshade Friday morning, there should be no problem. I need to get back to the city,” he sighed. “I certainly have enjoyed my time out here.”
“Me too,” Father Norwood nodded. “Godspeed, Roland.”
9
Shady was sitting at the desk in the office on the third floor of No. 14 completing the paperwork for the week’s patrols, considered the least desirable, albeit necessary aspect of the blinder’s duties. Summarizing the reports at the end of the week enabled one to spot patterns of activity, note particular problems or areas of concern. Nevertheless, calling it paperwork was hardly accurate, or at the very least, unnecessary. But it was an old habit, coming from a lifetime of reading and reviewing dissertations. Even now, in the blinders’ headquarters, Shady had not quite overcome the instinctive need to put things down on paper. But it was not necessary… Shady looked up from the notepad upon which he was writing to the gleaming transparent screen gazing at him… beckoning to him from somewhere north of his elbow upon the aged cypress wood desk. The screen was like a small window…a sparkling window into the hearts of all other blind policemen in Pera. One need simply trace one’s thoughts and observations onto this thin window that glittered as though alive. It is alive, thought Shady, running his finger tenderly along the rim. It teems with Shadow’s people. Millions of microscopic creatures that darted and flashed within the glass-like screen. I don’t even know if it’s glass, he thought. All I know is that it stores all the data we have about our respective domains. Stored and retrievable by any one of us. Although only the blind policemen could input information, the Blinders’ Thoughts could be accessed by anyone in the community. Anyone in Pera. As it should, thought Shady. Because We are You, and You are Us.
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said not looking up.
“Hello, Shades.” The Rooster took a seat in a chair across the desk.
“Oh!” Shady looked up with surprise. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, chief. What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to tell you in person,” the chief of police began, leaning forward. “I got the results of Carl’s autopsy–” He cleared his throat.
“Yes?”
“Lightberry poisoning.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Absolutely certain.”
Shady shook his head slowly. “It’s so hard to believe. Carl was always so careful. How?”
“It is difficult to believe Carl could have been careless, I agree. Especially since Philippa’s death.”
“He kept the antidote handy…”
“He must not have realized he had ingested it until it was too late. Lightberry poison is stealthy.”
“How could it happen?”
“We think, although can’t be completely certain, that the berry was mixed into a tea-blend that he drank that afternoon.”
Shady tapped the point of a pencil on the table. “That’s odd. Do you have the tea?”
The chief nodded. “Of course it may not be that odd, though. The lightberry is still used. Plenty of people can ingest it without any problems.”
“Yes,” Shady nodded, “But only the Pera-born. That’s why everything is clearly and carefully labeled. Even so I know many people – including Carl – who avoid anything that might contain the fruit of the light tree. Carl warned me as a matter of fact–” Shady shook his head. “No, I really don’t get it. Carl didn’t even like tea. He was a coffee-drinker.”
“I know. But he did like his cocktails, didn’t he?”
“Not more than anyone else,” Shady retorted defensively.
“I didn’t mean to imply anything against Carl,” the chief said quickly. “I was trying to get around to telling you that the tea-blend was probably in his evening cocktail. He liked to sit in that chair of his, watching the water and the stars, right? I remember sitting out there with him. Did he mix his own?”
“Drinks? Mostly, yes, I should imagine,” Shady said. “Do you know if he had any visitors?”
The Rooster nodded and explained that as far as the police had been able to ascertain, the only visitor to Carl’s home had been his housekeeper, who was scheduled to have left in the early afternoon. “We have not located her yet, unfortunately.”
Shady stared into the middle distance. “I am thinking of contacting Xavier… Or Orion.”
“Because of Carl’s death?” The Rooster looked surprised.
“And the others… It may all be a coincidence, but three in a year seems too many...”
“Well, you know I can’t interfere, and you must do what you think is right, but I assure you my force will do everything possible if there’s been a crime.”
Shady assured him he had complete trust in the police department. “It’s not just Carl’s death – or the others. I’m worried about … something. I don’t know what it is. I saw a White Islander on Nightingale Boulevard while I was on duty–”
“I’ve been seeing them more and more too,” the Rooster admitted. “One or two at a time. Always in places they never seemed to go. I’m not aware of any criminal activity, mind you,” he added.
“Hmm… You are not? Me neither– well at least not ’til last night…” Shady explained the events of the evening, including the slingshot and the story told by the two boys. The Rooster scratched his temple meditatively.
“I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Will you look into it? Let me know if any complaints have been lodged against the islanders. Also, the kid I saw had the black eyes of a trainee elder.”
“That’s interesting,” the police chief mused. “They usually stay on their islands, am I right? You know more about them than I do.”
Shady shook his head regretfully. “I know less than I should, but to my knowledge the trainee elders are not supposed to be able to leave the islands until they become an elder. Besides, they are practically blind from that lens thing they put in their eyes to make them appear jet black!”
“So the one you saw must have been stumbling around. Not particularly dangerous…”
“No, but–” Shady paused. Not dangerous? He felt uneasy. The White Islanders’ elders kept to a strict code. Strict to the point of physical deprivation. They were renowned for their ability to stay awake for days without food and water. The trainees were, above all, obedient.
“Maybe he got sick of life on the islands, and wanted to see the mainland,” the chief of police suggested hopefully.
“I doubt it,” Shady grimaced. “If he was dissatisfied, surely the first thing he would have done wou
ld have been to remove those things in his eyes. No, it worries me, chief…” he added thoughtfully.
“Well, I’ll take a look,” the Rooster assured him, “but I would have thought that would be your area. Nothing in the blinders’ patrols?”
Shady replied that he had not seen or heard anything himself and that nothing had – so far – been entered into the system. “Which surprises me, actually,” he added. “If there had been such an incident as those boys mentioned, I don’t understand why it wasn’t mentioned during the patrols. It seems significant enough to mention, don’t you think?”
The Rooster shook his head. “Maybe the boys didn’t tell anyone. Usually the blinders on patrol don’t have a chance to talk to kids.”
“You’re probably right,” Shady sighed. “I didn’t ask them if they’d told anyone else–” He looked interrogatively at the police chief.
“Yes, yes, we’ll make sure to get all relevant information,” the Rooster said.
“Good. I don’t know what you think about it, Rooster, but I really have a feeling I should contact Xavier. Or Orion...” Shady ventured hesitantly.
“There’s a big difference between contacting Xavier and Orion,” the Rooster said after a pause. “I don’t have a problem with Orion, per se, you understand,” he added quickly.
“We both know Orion.” Shady raised his left eyebrow meaningfully.
“Right. Exactly. Very useful. He really is. None better… under the right circumstances. And of course, I like the guy. I mean who doesn’t?” The Rooster looked ahead woodenly, keeping his face devoid of expression. “But having Orion here unattended isn’t something that I relish exactly.”
Shady looked self-conscious.
“No offense, Shades! But I’ve got to be blunt here because it’s important: Orion without Xavier or Blanca present is ‘unattended’!”
“I know… But maybe Xavier will come too. Or only Xavier.”
“Don’t bet on it. Xavier’s busy with LiGa. You know that. That’s why he and Blanca left you guys here. You and Carl and Fiona.”
the Dark shall do what Light cannot Page 6