he looks about, in dark of holt. i can see him dimly. in woods are sounds of wights, beasts. we hope this is all. he is afeart.
do they harm? he asks, soft. i look down at dark ground.
many things are said, i say. you do not need to hear them. it is enough to keep from them. this we will do.
there are more sounds then from holt. wights. if it were not wights, i would rather it was ghasts than what i most fear.
/ lorenso
it is an other day of walkin and hakkin, sweatin, creepin through thorn under great pillars of Trees. an other day before we come to place father was headin for.
Trees grow smaller as light comin in through canopy here, Trees become not pillars but thin fingers reachin up to hard, hot Sky. almost there is path, like others have been here, but i do not want to ask what others.
ground changin also. before it was flat, and though ribbed with roots and sunk in leafs and thorns, it was level as we walked. now it rises and fallin in great mounds, there are ridges and furrows and dips and heights. then we come out of holt and light now comin down on to ground as it has not since we left cnoos and began walkin.
before us is clere place and in here is mound and on mound stands great stump of stone. it is weathered and worn but it can be seen that once it was made by people. in its face are openins and in these openins other small roks, standin like folk almost. it reaches up to Sky like Trees until it ends in jagged stump like great rottin tooth.
what is this? i say to father. there is old beauty in it.
we walk to it. close up it is like Greenrok seems with Birds wheelin through it. Duv, sittin on top of it, wheels off with clakkin of wings as we come. it is like some one has kept this place free of Trees. like some one is tendin this thing. i walked around it, on all sides this great tooth was worn in patterns like some offrin to Sky.
what you walk on, says father, was once great city of Hamden. chappels, road ways, torrs, castels, dwellins for thousands they say. holt has it bak now, eats it slow. this stone we call encross. built by folks here eons ago. we do not know why. once it was greater, taller. it is always clere of holt. i do not know why. hungry ghasts would not come this far in to Land. when our Order was numerous, encross is place we would meet, speak, leave messages for others. no messages have been left here for years.
i look up at this thing, staggrin up in to Sky. it is as if some force gathrin round it. father takes bottel then, opens it, hands it to me.
drink, he says, you will need it.
i raise bottel to me mouth then but before i can drink i see her. i am clere about it. i see her.
she stands there, behind this encross, lookin at me.
i look at father. he is sittin now, rests, lookin bak at holt. he has seen nothin.
i look again. behind great rok, great tooth. there she stands. it is her. she is smilin. she laughs now, in that way, under breath, that way she has. she raises right arm now, bekkens me.
she wants me.
it is not possible. it is her. i am not dreamin. i am sober. it is her.
sfia.
/ father
some thing has happened. some thing happnin at encross to him. he is blind like some light has come down on him, like Sun has fallen on Sea. he staggers, does not speak.
what did he see?
/ lorenso
i looked again, she was gone. i went to place, still with open bottel in me hand, gone behind encross, looked in to holt. dark it is in here, dark, but though things movin i did not see her.
what is this?
this night we come to small clere place in holt at dusk. as we come, great flok of Batts singin up from Trees and risin, whirlin round us in cloud. ah and i can not think of Batts, father, any thing. i do not care where we go. what did i see? it could be i was hot only. hot, thirsted.
no. i saw her. it was her. she stood, and then was gone. i saw her. did i see her?
ah, and she was fadin and now has come roarin bak and all i want is her, all i want, and what am i doin here?
we have laid out our mats. how will i rest, now? how will i rest?
/ father
i will sit up all this night. will not sleep.
it is here. i feel it.
it is come.
/ lorenso
i did sleep, but i woke.
i felt her. felt her again, near.
i sit up. Moon is high tonight and some light comin through Trees. i see father sittin against trunk of Tree, i think he is awake but when i rise and go to him, his eyes are closed and he breathes heavy.
i turn and she is there.
standin by great trunk of Oke Tree she is, its branches lost in darklin. it is like it was at moorin place, like it was yester day. her shift long and wite, feet bare, long tress sweepin over her shoulder. it is her. it is her!
o she smiles, she smiles!
lorenso, she says. me lover, it has been so long. i could not be without you.
how? i say. how did you come here?
no, she says. not here. come. i will tell all. come.
she comes to me then, takin me hand.
come, she says. follow.
her hand is warm, tight on mine. me hart callin so loud, so loud now.
together we move in to holt. i will follow her where she goes. i do not care what wood she walks in, i will go.
LADY MOON
/ sfia
not enough of us now even to carry him to his last place. fore elders it needs to carry corse of one who is gone over. we are three only, and mother not young. three of us strugglin in hot Sun of summer morn, strugglin with him on bier, carry him out through great Cloyster to Sky Tree.
wrapped he is in last of wite linnin, last and best for he was best of us. old yrvidian, wrapped in wite linnin now for his enskyment. now we send off last of what we were.
ah, and it is so hot and as we move with him, as we bend under weight of him i can not even on this day take me mind off me young man who is gone and what i have done. ah god, and it is so hot and where is he and will he ever be here again? it is best that he is not. it is best i do not see him. if i do not see him, what will i do?
it is so hot.
/ nzil
i did not need to be asked to begin makin Sky Tree for yrvidian. he was not comin bak from his Dreamin. it did not take me one day to make Tree, down at fenns edge, in sight of Greenrok.
father must be right about Birds, their song and speakin. they know. when they see new Tree goin up there must be stories, calls, for soon i see from over long holt to north their shapes comin in. first two, then more. then as i fix platform to top of Poles they circle, wheelin on high torrs of air, great fanned tails, long wings like hands. Kyte. hungry. patient. waitin.
Sky Tree is done. he was so heavy to move to it, to carry up ladder. almost we did not do it. me girl stands at holt edge lookin on, still. why must she see this? i wanted her happy. it was all i wanted. there is nothin else i want in all this dark world.
/ mother
all things end, children. this we know.
Land ends at Sea. Sea endin at Sky. night ends at day. life ends when Lady wills. all things die to live again. great cycle, great wheel, always turnin. deth is life, but grief it brings us, children, great grief. this grief that must be carried, it is load we must shoulder, for its weight adds to weight of our human bein. there is no escapin it. escape is promise made by Wayland and his servants, escape from grief, from pain. this is what Alexandria offers, they say. but they lie. wheel will turn. deth for life. life to deth.
yrvidian was best of us, and he is gone. gone in seekin for Truth of what Birds told us. and Truth he found, children. Swans are comin. Alexandria falls. rejoice! he would want this. in all his Dreamin work, he only ever thought of us, of Edg, of Order.
old world is ended now, children. all is breakin.
yrvidian: dear friend. dear man, Dreamer of Edg, he who gives all for livin of last. in Ladys name now, in sight of Her Birds, we offer you to those
who come claimin. offrin your body now to those who circle, in return. body to body, flesh to Sky, Man to Bird.
we let you fly now, old friend, as you flew before. we send you bak. we let you go.
fare well.
/ el
i dont know why every thing has to be spooky. i didnt like it. mam said i had to go. after, all these big red Birds come down on to yrvidian on this thing dada made for him like tall table. we walked away, i held dadas hand but i turned and lookin bak and they were all tearin up cloth he was in. they had these great big biks. i felt sorry, and bit sik.
i said to dada, will they do that to me?
he said, never, dont speak of it, so i stopped.
i am goin in to holt later to talk to Robyn. some times it is good sittin only without people. holt is all peace and light, green light, sounds of littel misteries. seelie people, faeries, livin there under Shrooms and in holes in banks. holt does not have words, so it can not tell any lies.
/ mother
some thing has happened. in night i woke, knowin it. hearin sounds outside i stepped from me bed, stepped out in to night. Moon is sallow, thin. sounds are from Sky. i look up and there three Birds circlin haloed Moon. it is dim, i could not see them, but it is not Owl. these are day Birds, circled over this place in hart of night.
some thing is wrong.
what has happened?
/ nzil
we sat down. when he was gone, some days after, we sat down. i was makin yrvidians Tree and she came. i sat in shavins, lost in it, and then she was there. i looked up. we had not spoken for many days, weeks.
i did not know how i felt. she sat down. i should thank her. i never would have gone to her. i wanted her to burn.
nzil, she said, i have done you wrong. i ask you to forgive me.
i did not say any thing, not knowin what to say. just kept drawin bark off post.
nzil, she said, speak. it was not an order. still i could not look up.
it is hard, i said, at last.
then she took me hand. i was not ready for this, stopped carvin then, could not help but lookin at her.
please, she says. i have done wrong. i will not speak words. you know. but it is ended now, i have ended it. we are parents to el, you are good man. i will do what is needed. only we must be here for her. forgive me foolness. will you?
i wanted to make her wait, make her feel pain i have felt, but i am not strong like that. i held her hand then, tightnin on it.
yes, i said. could not say an other thing.
there is only time now will show me what she will be. could be she will come bak to me. but she is second to me now. it is me and el, bonded by love. father and daughter, this is strongest bond and true.
/ sfia
if he was here it would be worse, yes, it would be. it is easier not to see him. if he was not so young it would be easy. if he were old like me, his body turnin towards autumn. bein mother ripples out in to all things. but he is young, strong, he is only just man. energy pulsin through him like holt livin in his blood. strong bak, young limbs, ah.
well, me work is to put him from me mind. he is gone. i can not have him.
but where is he? will he be well? why is me gut eatin me so? it is like some wyrm churnin in there.
work. work and forgettin.
/ father
so i have failed.
me old bones, me old hart failed me, failed boy. i woke at dawn, light comes through Trees pale, and he is not here.
before even i stand i am cursin me self. i knew what was comin, knew stalker would follow. why did i not tell lorenso? i thought to keep him from it, not to afear him. and knowin too some thing darker: knowin what shape it would come in, thinkin that even to speak her name to lorenso would bring him to rise again in his anger and heat. thinkin that to tell him might drive him faster in to its clutch.
thinkin he might want it.
well, it is done now.
fast they are, so fast you would not know. i must find him. and if stalker is still near: let it come. let this red thing come to me. let it see if it can have me as it has young and believin ones. ah, it will come for young first, come first to those it can lie to, over power. it will not come to me or mother, not until last.
i will find him. i must find lorenso.
/ lorenso
she took me in to woods in dark of night. only Moon to tread path down before us. in to holt we walk, she is holdin me hand tight all time, all way, and i am thinkin, how did she find us? and why would she come? and where does she take me? but mostly not thinkin at all, mostly only followin, me hart crashin in me body. we will find place where only Moon can see us and i will hold her and we will
now here is place, clere place, just as me mind had made it, as soon as i thought of it we were stood there. Moon lit leafs and Clay of ground just as me mind lit them, shapes of Trees were as me mind drew them. she stops then and turns and smiles at me, and here is face i have thought of every minute since i ran in to fenn.
now sfia lets go of me hand and steps away. she steps from me and then sudden, in light of Moon, she is not there. sfia is gone, and where she stood is
where she stood, before me in Moons silver, in this place i had seen before ever arrivin, is thing from edge of Yam field. thing we saw together those days ago, standin before me now, all in red.
i step bak, in shok. it stands before me, cloked, hooded. and now this thing it raised its arms and lowers its hood and i see now its head and face and
what is this? what is this?
lorenso, he says. welcome. we should talk.
/ k
Ascension 479-K
L: Albion Q14 – Nitria/Holland – #18 ‘Lorenso’
TD: Alexandria 237483830202/6986
Result: Success
Transcript follows
I always dread having to follow them when they go wandering off like this. It is so much more straightforward when they just stay in one place. That is, after all, their raison d’être: stay at home and hope for the best. Get your feet rooted down in the stinking mud and hope the world passes you by.
When I am forced to track their movements through these foetid swamps, though, it can be a challenge to retain the necessary detachment. It can be a challenge sometimes to remember what century I’m in. That they live in this way all their lives, and by choice: it is almost enough to make you feel sorry for them.
But not quite.
Still, it is my work, and it was, on this occasion, worth the toil. I am now one body closer to my own transcendence. That, when it comes, will be worth everything it has cost.
*
Target: Why do you look like that?
K: I’ve come so far to find you, and this is how you greet me?
T: You don’t have skin.
K: Of course I have skin. It is transparent. You see what lies beneath. This is what you are, all of you. Meat. Bone. Vein.
T: What are you?
K: I am what you are. Take a look at the flesh of your arm. Tell me what you see.
[Target extends his right hand, cautiously.]
T: Just me hand. Fingers, nails, skin.
K: Hands of a certain shape. Skin of a certain tone. You share an overall physical presentation with your kin. But there are other kins. Much of human history is defined by the negative reaction of kin groups to those unfamiliar to them. This means nothing to you, having led the sheltered life you people have built for yourselves. But it is a fact that if you were confronted here with someone whose skin was a radically different tone, say, or whose physiognomy was greatly different from yours, or who dressed very differently or spoke a different tongue, you would react negatively. It would not be your conscious choice, but your animal programming. The reaction of your body. A recourse to tribal safety. For this reason, Wayland’s retainers are presented in, shall we say, neutral tones. You see, quite literally, beneath our skin. We look strange, of course; perhaps even repulsive. But we do not trigger any of your ancestral guar
ds. We look human enough, but a little inhuman too. You are therefore able, we hope, to approach us rationally, with the minimum of animal suspicion.
[Target does not respond.]
K: The body, Lorenso! The old, failing, primitive, clumsy human body. It betrays you at every turn. It sabotages your best intentions. But you know that, don’t you, Lorenso? It’s why you’re here.
/ lorenso
i was not afeart. it was strange, but i was not. but i felt i would be sik, like some thing was not right on some plane i can not feel or see. i follow her through holt and then she was not there and instead there is this … man? is it man? i do not know.
it drops its hood and its face is skinless thing, all meat and blood and mustle. it only looks at me, does not blink. its eyes have no lids, nose is slits in its face, no teeth in its mouth, only some strip of gum. it has no hair. it speaks strange tongue, as if from older times or some strange land beyond Sea.
i want to run, but i do not because i know what it is. i know when i see this that i have been waitin all me life for it, i have always known it would come to me, as it come to others, as it came to me friends and to all other humans on this Erth.
i can not run. i have to know.
/ k
K: Do you know who I am?
T: You work for Wayland.
K: Correct. I am one of his retainers. You may call me K. Sit down. You look uncomfortable. We’ll both sit, on the ground here. See? Now: do you know what I do?
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