“Getting back to Pera–” Orion said impatiently.
“Yes. Back to Pera… Where was I? Ah yes… The eastern half of the city, which was traditionally residential, is still referred to as the ‘resting heart of Pera’. But the western part of the city, which has always been the entertainment center, is affectionately known as the ‘singing heart of Pera’. The main thoroughfare in the western sector is Nightingale Boulevard, also known locally as Red’s Road.”
“What a lovely name!” Cat cried, clapping. “Red’s Road…” she repeated dreamily. “It’s so very romantic. Why is it called that?”
“It’s a reference to Twilight,” Patron replied. “The blood in his eyes that’s the red of the setting sun, perhaps–”
“That is an evocative image,” Father Griffith said. “Can you explain his role in Pera? I assume this is the same Twilight who appears in Evening Song?”
“Yes,” Patron nodded. “One and the same. There is none other. He is the Dark One: the Sun’s brother.”
“I am not sure I understand Twilight,” Father Griffith mused.
Patron gave a knowing smile. “Perhaps I can help you.” She pulled a slim leather-bound volume from the middle shelf. Its cover, like Evening Song, was embossed with the likeness of a white crocodile.
Patron opened the book and began to read:
Black is Night
Red is blood
When the Sun sleeps in our River
And her golden light is nothing but a glimmer
In a dream.
Then, the Land is wrapped in fear
For her golden embrace grows ever dimmer
As in a dream…
Then…
In the black of Night
He walks.
From the Sun’s last light
All through the Night,
He walks.
And his dark eyes see the fear in our hearts
For fear is truth.
Truth.
Then…
Red as Night
And black as blood
He knows
He knows that the warmth of the Sun is a comforting mask,
And that her golden light is a beautiful illusion.
He knows
That the truth of fear
Is the truth in our hearts,
And he is not afraid.
In the black of Night
In the dead of Night
When blood runs red
He is not afraid.
It is important.
It is important, for he is the one
Who is not afraid;
Who does not fear the Sun’s retreat.
Where he walks
Dare you?
In the black of Night
When the Land cowers with fright
Do you?
(From the Book of Shadow)
Cat sighed. “And that poem too, is part of the Book of Shadow?”
“Yes.”
Where he walks
Dare you?
Father Griffith wondered: dare we? Dare I? Where does Twilight walk?
“How much longer ’til we get to Pera?” Cat asked eagerly.
“We should be there before Evening Song in a few days.”
“Tell us more,” Cat said eagerly. “I want to know more about how Pera works.”
It was Orion who spoke this time. “Pera is ... well, to be fair, it can be a bit inefficient,” he laughed.
Patron snorted with good humor. “Only because everyone has a say in what happens.”
“Exactly. You may find it to be an adjustment, especially you, Cat. You were governor for many years, I understand–”
Cat nodded. “Governor of Louisiana. How would I find it to be an adjustment?”
“For a start, there is no overall leader in Pera. There is a mayor, but his office is largely administrative. They pay salaries of public employees such as the police, but no one would claim that the mayor was in any shape or form the leader of Pera. It’s much more diffuse than the system you’re used to, I imagine.
“I will give you an example from an area with which I am particularly familiar: internal security. This is provided by the police in your society, correct?” Orion paused interrogatively.
“Yes,” Bruce said hesitantly. “Is there no police force in Pera?”
“I will get to that. You would agree that the legal system, of which the police are a part, is entrusted with maintaining justice, as dictated by the laws, and as enforced by the police, correct?”
They nodded, waiting for him to proceed.
“But who polices the police?” Orion looked at each person in the room. “The courts again? And who polices the courts? The police?”
“Not exactly–” Bruce shook his head. “The courts do not make the laws, they interpret existing laws. You should know that. So the courts and the law-making are separate.”
“Yes, to a large extent this is true, but I was referring solely to enforcement. Now, we all hope for a non-corrupt, able police force that has the best interests of society as a whole at heart. But unfortunately hoping for a thing does not ensure that it is so.
“I am sure you are familiar with the phrase, ‘no one is above the law’. This is meant to signify that the law treats all citizens equally. How nice!” Orion said sarcastically. “But when no one is above the law, the logical conclusion is that everyone is below the law! Isn’t that curious? How can a made-up set of rules be more important than people? How can people be held in abject subjugation to these statutes and laws, which are as changeable as the wind?”
“What’s the alternative?” Bruce asked. “How’s it done in Pera?”
“In Pera we prefer to state that no one is below the law, and no one is above justice,” Patron interjected. “And of course, there are always the blind policemen…” she added with a meaningful glance at Orion.
“Blind policemen?” They asked in unison and continued to listen as Patron described the role of the blind policemen.
“They go wherever the police go?” Bruce asked skeptically.
“Of course. They are there to keep the police honest.”
“Wow!” Bruce exclaimed. “And the police agreed to this?”
“Of course!” Patron retorted hotly. “They are Peran police.”
“So, the blind policemen keep an eye on the cops on behalf of the citizens. Ok. I can understand that. But who keeps an eye on the blind policemen, if not the police?” Bruce inquired.
“The police, if they notice some wrongdoing. But mostly, it’s the community,” Orion replied. “The community chooses its blind policemen and can remove any of them at any time – so long as there is a consensus. As I said, it can take a long time to agree on anything, and to implement laws, but–” he paused meaningfully.
“It’s safe,” Patron added. “It’s safe for the citizens,” she continued. “Also, we Perans believe that the success of a society is best measured by the level of integrity of its individuals.”
“But how can you make sure society has integrity if you don’t have laws that make sure people act in the way they should?”
Bruce asked.
“If laws are only necessary because people are not expected to act with integrity, then if we expect people to do the right thing, we won’t need all those laws!” Patron replied.
“That sounds nice but it is not realistic, I’m afraid,” Bruce said, shaking his head.
“Judge for yourself,” Orion replied. “But remember that society can reduce criminality just by reducing the number of laws that people can break.” He grinned.
“But who decides the parameters of what you call integrity? Who determines the right thing to do?” Father Griffith leaned forward.
“We do.” Patron said. “Us: the citizens of Pera. The community decides. That’s what we do here, on the Flying Fish. If there’s a problem at sea, where are the laws? Where is the enforcement mechanism? We, the members of the ship, are the enforcers. We are both Judge and Forgi
ver. The community, when it is based on trust and integrity, is often more forgiving because we prefer to trust. We prefer natural harmony to the insistent expansion of artificial laws.
“Personally, I believe that integrity is natural. Just as we don’t need artificial means to survive – we know how to breathe and eat – we already hold within us the means to create a functioning, healthy society. The laws we need are already within us. We were born with them. With a sense of fairness and justice.”
Bruce inclined his head. “There are those who hold that view,” he said circumspectly. “I am not so certain. Not because I am a lawyer and therefore believe that the Law is sacrosanct, but because I have met a great many people who take a rather, shall I say, elastic view of integrity.”
“But even they knew what it was, right? They just didn’t want to do it.”
“Possibly. Look, I don’t know Pera, and I am willing to enter it with an open mind. I only say I am wary based on personal experience.”
“Fair enough,” Patron grinned. “Mind you, we definitely have one among us who has no idea about limits – legal or otherwise!” She glanced playfully at Orion.
“Don’t I do the right thing?” Orion turned to her, wearing a wounded expression. Patron cackled happily.
“I didn’t say that.” She patted him on the shoulder. “When it suits your purposes. Orion is special,” she chuckled, turning to the remainder of the group. “He gets away with most of the things he does because of his unusual talents!”
Is that a warning? wondered Father Griffith, picking up a hard note behind Patron’s affectionate laugh. Or a threat?
“His sense, I suppose,” Cat said. “What is it exactly? Orion got us up with the birds to tell us about it – as far as I can tell, it’s being able to read someone’s mind. Do you actually promote this in Pera?” Cat was incredulous. “It sounds so invasive, and not just in law enforcement but regular folk?”
“I suppose I can understand how you might feel as you’re not used to it. But we Perans are – well, we’re taught from early childhood about the sense. Being senseless to us–” she announced, looking around the room, “well it’s like being blind, wouldn’t you say, Orion?”
“Absolutely.” Orion nodded in wholehearted agreement. “That’s why we will have several sessions until we arrive in Pera, for in that place, everyone knows about the sense, which incidentally is a great deal more than mind-reading. It’s the ability to communicate with and understand the world around you. The physical world, which includes people of course, but also animals, plants, and even, for some, the earth, the sea, the wind…Shadow…” Orion smiled. “Although in practice, for many people, having the sense typically does not mean communing with the fishes, but rather, being able to read one’s fellow humans. This is a requirement for all blind policemen because they must be able to understand the troubles and fears in their community in order to protect that community – be it from itself, from the police or any other threat.
“They are blind because they see within. They have insight. After all, they patrol at night when visibility is low. Being a blind policeman is a great honor in Pera. People do not take it lightly. As a LiGa Immortal, if you choose to live in Pera for a significant amount of time, you will be considered for the position of blind policeman. All immortals have been entered, and with one exception, they have all been accepted.”
“What about you?” Cat asked. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t live in Pera–”
“I am a blind policeman,” Orion replied. “But because I also have duties to LiGa, I do not patrol regularly. I have more of a special arrangement with Shadow…” he smiled enigmatically and quickly added, “Patron was a blind policeman too, until she assumed this assignment.”
“Yes,” Patron nodded. “I was chosen as a blinder fifteen years ago, and I never missed a patrol.”
“But where did you patrol? You don’t live in Pera, surely?” Cat wondered.
“The White Islands,” Patron replied. “Only pirates were sent there as blinders. And now, none are at all. About a year ago they stopped all blinder patrols to those islands. I think it is a great mistake, and I told them so at the time.” She glanced sideways at Orion. “Did you know that they ceased the patrols on the islands?”
“No,” Orion shook his head. “I did not know that the pirate patrols were suspended. We were not told at LiGa. Remember, this is the first time we’ve had contact with you – with anyone from Pera in almost a year. Since Dragan died.”
“I’m sorry! What about us?” Cat waved. “Patron, Orion, darling, we need clarity. We can’t read your minds just yet. Who’s whatever that name you said? Dragan?”
“Dragan Reperin was a LiGa Immortal,” Orion explained patiently. “He came from LiGa Bridge, like you. He was found washed ashore by a couple out for an early morning stroll on Mira Island, which is the exact opposite of its name, being a holiday destination for Perans, particularly in the summer. Dragan was a capable sailor and it was good sailing weather the day he went out. I was not called out to investigate his death. We left it to the police. You see, we are allowed to investigate LiGa Immortal deaths internally, and that usually means me. But in this case, it seemed to be an accident, and Xavier thought it best not to interfere.” His tone suggested he had not fully supported Xavier’s decision.
“You didn’t agree?” Bruce asked.
“Frankly, I had my doubts that it had been an accident, and I would have liked to have had the opportunity to investigate,” Orion said. “I have no problem with Peran police. They are thorough and capable, but… well, I have my methods…” he added.
“So how is it that you were summoned? What happened that the capable police force could not handle?” Cat asked sharply.
“Two more immortals died,” Orion said evenly. “Philippa Liandra, a few days after Dragan, and just recently, Carl Volkswahr. They thought Philippa’s death was an accident, too– she died of lightberry poisoning–”
“The lightberry is poisonous? Isn’t that supposed to be our precious cargo?” Cat bridled.
“Poisonous – deadly, even – but only to the non-Pera born.”
“Well, that certainly makes me more confident!” Cat began, but was interrupted by Bruce who was more concerned with learning the reason for Carl’s demise.
“Apparently he also died of lightberry poisoning. I don’t know any details.”
“So they finally decided to call you?”
“Shadow called me,” Orion replied.
“Oh, this elusive Shadow…” Cat shook her head gently.
“You mentioned only pirates patrolled on the White Islands, I think. What are the White Islands?” Father Griffith asked.
“The White Islands lie at the edge of the Light Veil, and the islanders are the people who inhabit those rocky islands,” Orion explained.
“Let me read you something from the Book of Shadow,” Patron said, retrieving a slim, black volume from a nearby shelf. It, too, sported the likeness of a white crocodile etched upon its cover. “It may help clarify who they are…”
The River Ebbs; It Flows
River’s ebb
River’s flow
Is a debt.
First there was toil
In black soil.
As black as the Dark One sleeping,
As black as his dark eyes weeping
Tears of blood.
Tears that felled trees,
Tall, weeping trees
That were rooted in soil black.
Roots that drank blood
And shriveled in pain.
Dry agony
Wept the land in long wails.
Shrill and in vain.
Blisters and boils
Transformed verdant plains
Rooted in soil black.
Black soil
Cracked with hunger,
Wracked with thirst.
And the sun dripped blood,
Hot and searing,
Blistered and
boiled
In our hands.
By our hands.
River’s ebb
River’s flow
Is a confession.
Of dead soil.
Soil white with toil.
Our toil.
Our soil beneath the soles of our feet
Blistered and burnt
With our toil.
River’s ebb
River’s flow
Is a journey.
Heavy with death,
Laden with hunger,
And the knowing
Of our land groaning.
Land that was black and green,
With flowers red and blue,
With trees tall and bearing
Fruit.
No more.
A journey to the River:
Judge, but not Forgiver.
River’s ebb
River’s flow
Is a reckoning.
In the tides of time
Can there be forgiveness?
In the tides of the River
Can there be forgetting?
Is there recompense?
We ask.
Forever we wonder
Everywhere we wander.
But we are trapped
Within our heart.
Heart, as black and dry as the soil
We left.
A wailing tide of parched grief is our companion.
And our heart is blacker than his dark eyes weeping
Tears of blood.
And our heart is inconsolable
For it is unforgivable.
River’s ebb
River’s flow
Is justice.
Final, lasting judgment by the River:
Judge, but not Forgiver.
the Dark shall do what Light cannot Page 16