Through Caverns Measureless to Man

by D G Rose

  And she was crying softly as she finished her tale. I almost said something. I mean, she was, basically, taken in by a magician’s trick. I guess, given what Christabel told me – how The Wedding Guest passengers always wash up on that same stretch of beach, I was too. I guess The Wedding Guest is some kind of floating playhouse, whose crew are really actors each one dying in the middle of one voyage and reborn again at the start of the next, never reaching their destination. But, my magician’s trick was infinitely more horrible than hers and infinitely better done. I couldn’t even see the trick in it.

  However, even a guy like me, with little social experience and less with women, knows that it would be a bad idea to compare her horror story (as terrible as it was) with mine (so much more terrible). So I let her cry and I held her and I found my sympathy. Because, of course, if you had never lived my horror story, hers would have been pretty horrible. I would have to learn not to compare everyone’s horror story to mine.

  We slept for a while and were awoken by the nurse, who looked unpleased to find Amy in my bed, but didn’t say anything. “I’m to tell you that the reception for Lord Roland will begin in an hour and the Lady Christabel requests your presence.” She gave a little scoot motion with her hands. “So get dressed.”

  CHAPTER 19 - The worst fucking conspiracy in the history of doomed conspiracies.

  Amy changed into a wonderful green silk dress and came back to my room so that we could go to the reception together. Also, I had no idea where the ballroom was. We ran into Christabel on our way, she was tucked into a little window nook and another woman was sitting on her lap. They looked like quite intimate friends.

  “Nick, Amy, this is Geraldine. I may have mentioned her.”

  I shook my head. “Geraldine? Not a single word. I’ve literally never heard you utter that sequence of syllables before.”

  Geraldine pouted. “You go off gallivanting all over the place and leave me all alone and don’t even think about me or mention me to your friends!” And Geraldine swatted Christabel, playfully, on the arm.

  Christabel stood up, almost dumping Geraldine onto the floor. “I definitely did too mention her. Remember? Destruction’s whore?” And she swatted Geraldine on the ass, less playfully, and the two of them took off running and giggling down the hallway in the exact wrong direction. Looks like Amy and I will have to face the dangers of the dinner alone.

  The reception was what you might expect when one rich powerful man is trying to impress another. There was a large hall lit with hundreds of candles and decorated in high style. Great tables laid with wine and food seated a few hundreds of Sir Leoline's closest friends. As for Sir Leoline himself, well he was nothing like I expected. I think I’d expected something like Neb version 2. Maybe taller maybe shorter, maybe even more super competent, maybe just a little less super competent. Maybe I was expecting a man who could eat iron ore and shit out bars of steel. But Sir Leoline was nothing like that. He seemed, in short, a foolish foppish man, always adjusting his hat, always adjusting the crotch of his hose, always chasing the serving girls. Nice enough I guess, but with none of the fire or sense of honor and duty that had animated Neb back at the Tower. It was impossible to imagine this man dueling Christabel almost to a standstill or staring down a king and his army.

  As we entered the hall, Sir Leoline rushed to greet us, his friend, Lord Roland, in tow. He greeted Amy with a kiss on the cheek, they were old friends, of course. Then he turned to me, “Ah! Nicky! I’ve heard so much about you from Christabel! What an honor to finally meet you! And may I present an old and dear friend, Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine!”

  I wasn’t sure how I was expected to greet a Sir and a Lord, back at the Tower I’d given the king a nod of the head, but this was an altogether friendlier meeting, so I offered my hand to each man. Lord Roland took it and gave a loose disinterested shake, but Sir Leoline grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a hug. “Any brother of Miranda’s is family enough for me!” He near shouted in my ear.

  “Did you say brother of Miranda?” Asked Lord Roland, his interest aroused.

  “Yes! Yes! Shouted Sir Leoline. “This Nicky is the Nicky! The one who gifted us our Miranda, the favorite of the Mad Dreamer!”

  That struck me a something odd, something that I wanted to ask about. But, Lord Roland, immediately had me by the arm and pulled me in one direction, just as some aristocratic lady took Sir Leoline by the hand and drew him away. So, instead of getting a chance to pursue the issue of how, exactly, I had ‘gifted’ Miranda and what it meant for her to be the Mad Dreamer’s favorite, I was left to listen to Lord Roland regale his assembled audience (apparently being a Lord means never lacking for an audience) with stories of his hunting prowess. Amy seemed to have drifted away, as if some preternatural sense of foreboding had warned her of the boredom to come.

  “So, there I was.” He regaled. “Face to face with the monster! His red eyes, his mighty tusks, glistening with the blood of my fallen beaters, his rank breathe almost enough to bring me to my knees! ‘Come on ya fucker!’ I shouted!”

  “Lord Roland!” Interjected a miscellaneous member of the audience. “There are women and children present. I’ll thank you to watch your language.”

  Lord Roland looked shocked, as if never before in his life had anybody dared to interrupt one of his hunting stories, no matter how dull it might have been. He looked around, trying to identify these women and children who had the temerity to be offended and spying a young woman holding a small child in her arms, swept the baby from its mother and held it, surprisingly tenderly, in his own arms (apparently when you’re a lord, you can do things like that). “I only use coarse language when I am with children! I never curse when in all adult company!” He proclaimed. “When they are grown, all children will be familiar with the words that so shock you.” He gestured to the man who had objected to his use of the word ‘fucker’. “But how many will have the honor of having learned these words directly from Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine?” And everybody laughed, as if he had said something extremely funny.

  Then Lord Roland grabbed me by the arm. “If you will all excuse us, my dear friends. I have private business with Sir Nicky.” And with a sweep of his hand, the crowd dissolved away, back into the general hubbub of the room.

  “Ah! Sir Nicky.” He began when we were alone.

  “Just Nick.” I interrupted. “I’m not a sir or anything.”

  “Oh! But you possess a nobility of spirit that naturally makes me wish to address you so! Indulge me just for the evening.”

  I nodded. What did it matter to me?

  He took my arm and guided me away from the crowd, into a dimly lit alcove. “Ah. A little darkness for dark deeds, eh?” And he laughed a cartoonish villain’s laugh.

  I pulled my arm away. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” And I started away.

  Lord Roland grabbed my arm again. “I send greetings from our mutual friend.” He hissed. “A Person with whom you and I have made common cause.”

  I stopped, feeling compelled and guilty but also a little excited. It felt good to be a part of something secret and important and dangerous. Plus, I was starting to think that the Mad Dreamer was kind of a son of a bitch and I was becoming more interested in bringing him down. I nodded for him to go on.

  “This Person is afraid that your last conversation may have been a trifle, shall we say, unclear, and sends this message: Christabel is not what she appears.”

  I waited but he said nothing more. “What? What? What the fuck! This fucking Person is worried about being unclear and so sends this monumentally un-fucking-clear message in an attempt to fucking clarify? This has got to be the worst fucking conspiracy in the history of doomed conspiracies! I’ve been here for what feels like months, and let me tell you what I know. I know that the Caverns are big and dark and I know that the Tower is tall. I know that that fucking fucking ship is the worst fucking thing on earth and that�
�s about it! Oh, and the Great God Pan has a big cock! If your ‘plan’ (And yes I actually made the finger quotes) depends on my knowing anything else, you better fucking tell me in plain words or it’s totally fucked!” And I pulled away again and returned to the main hall.

  I was fuming mad and confused. What was I doing? Did I really want to be involved with the Person from Porlock and Lord Roland and their laughable conspiracy to bring down a god? On the one hand, Christabel, who I liked and who had an undeniable spirit and nobility of purpose, was a supporter of the Mad Dreamer. And the Mad Dreamer was the god who created all the wonderful things that I’d seen here. Of course, He was also the god who created all the terrible things that I’d seen here and the god who created The Wedding Guest and who’d tortured me on that horrid voyage. And, as always, there was the wild card of Miranda. Miranda, who was unavoidably delayed. Miranda who waited, still, in Xanadu. Miranda who’d sent that stupid package. Miranda who was, like the Mad Dreamer himself, a source of great pain and great hope. Could I, in the end, betray her? For what? To punish God? To punish Miranda? To punish myself?

  As I stood, alone and lost in my own thoughts, Amy sidled up to me and hooked her thumb around my thumb. “Let’s go.” She whispered in my ear. And so we went.

  The next morning I woke up early to spend a little time with my head resting on Amy’s stomach. I, with my small experience of stomachs, was surprised to note a line of slightly darker skin running from just below her navel downward, neatly bisecting the lower part of her. “Hey.” I said, giving her my most sexy ‘hey’. “What’s this line here?”

  She craned her head down to look. “I’ve always had that. I think it’s because I’m a quarter Czech and that’s the delineation.” I gave the line a little kiss. A quarter Czech!

  While there is something undoubtedly romantic about life in a castle here is the worst part: People are forever just walking into your room. And when I say people, I mean, of course, Christabel.

  “Wakey wakey, sleepyheads!” She shouted, slamming the door open for good measure.

  We weren’t asleep, but it would have been nice if she had knocked.

  Christabel jumped on the bed, unaware of, or unconcerned about our naked bodies only partially obscured by the covers, and she quickly put me in a headlock, and began to rub her knuckles on my head all the while shouting “Nuggie! Nuggie!” Just like I used to do to Miranda when we were kids. I guess Miranda must have hated it back then, because I sure hated it now. I tried to push her off, but she was too strong. So, I did the only thing I could think of, although it cost me to do it. I cried out, “Pleh! Pleh!” Just like Miranda used to do when we were kids. And Christabel stopped, just like that. Just like I used to do when we were kids, too.

  “Pleh? Pleh?” Asked Amy, halfheartedly covering herself.

  I was about to explain what it meant, when Christabel cut me off. “It’s ‘help’ backwards.”

  I nodded. “It is help backwards. And it’s what Miranda would yell when I gave her nuggies when we were kids.” I turned to Christabel. “How would you know that?”

  Christabel gave her most mysterious shrug. “Miranda still thinks about and talks about you all the time. I think, in many ways, she really hasn’t changed all that much since you were kids together.” And she cut off all my questions with, “You’ll see what I mean when we get to Xanadu.”

  Then she clapped her hands together, making a surprisingly loud sound, like maybe Christabel had studied hand clapping as a martial art. “And speaking of Xanadu, we need to get back on the road. So, take today to rest up, take care of any loose ends here in Porlock, and tomorrow at dawn we start for the Caves of Ice. Amy, pack an extra sweater!” She hugged herself and shivered. “The cold hurts my nipples!” She said, in a surprisingly good imitation of the Great God Pan.

  CHAPTER 20 - Ah ha! Winston Churchill!

  Sir Leoline insisted on seeing us off, so our start was delayed well past dawn. I’m pretty sure that Sir Leoline had slept at least until 11:30 or so and he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he arrived a little past noon. Lord Roland and his daughter, Geraldine, had returned to Tryermaine the day before, so I was, at least, spared any more awkward spy stuff. Of course, we weren’t spared the ceremony and the endless speeches. The whole event went on so long that Amy whispered to me, “I’d suggest that we just stay the night, if it didn’t mean we’d have to do this all over again tomorrow.”

  I laughed and hooked my thumb around her thumb and thought, ‘This is nice.’

  But eventually the ceremony ended and I unhooked my thumb from hers and we set off.

  As usual, Amy and Christabel walked a little ways ahead and I followed behind.

  “So.” I heard Amy begin. “Geraldine, huh?”

  “So.” Christabel replied. “Nicky, huh?”

  Amy laughed. “Well, he’s no destruction’s whore. But we’ve already talked the Nicky thing out. Geraldine is new. Do you lurrrrve her?”

  But Christabel, as always, was not to be deviated. “We haven’t talked the Nicky thing out. Not yet. How’s the sex? Is my b… um, buddy good in bed?”

  I sped up and shouldered Christabel aside to insert myself between them. “So. Geraldine, huh?”

  Christabel laughed. “So. Geraldine. She really is destruction’s whore. It’s not just a pet name. But she’s a demon in the sack. Speaking of demons in the sack, Amy was just ‘bout to elaborate on your skills, Nicky.”

  I must admit I was curious. I really did want to know what Amy thought, but I sure as shit didn’t want to discuss it with Christabel. I mean, I know that women talk (not, you understand, from personal experience, but from books and movies and such.), but I certainly didn’t want to be there when they were doing it. So, I did the only thing I could think to do. I grabbed Christabel and I put her in a headlock and I gave her nuggies. Now, let’s be completely clear: Christabel could have broken free and put me on the ground at any moment. I knew it and she knew it. I could feel it in the way she forced her muscles to relax, in the way she fought, not me, but her own reflexes. But she didn’t break free and she didn’t put me on the ground. Instead, she raised a hand and said “Pleh! Pleh!”

  And Amy shouted out, “Help! Backwards!”

  And I released Christabel and we walked a ways in silence.

  “Are we still on the scenic route?” I asked, breaking the blissful quiet.

  “Well, we’ll definitely see some scenery.” Said Christabel.

  “It’s just that I thought I might see some of Porlock. Amy and erm… others, um, others in the castle, have told me that it’s an interesting city.” I stammered out.

  Amy jumped in. “Yes! You’d love it! So beautiful and colorful!”

  But Christabel crushed my hopes. “We are on the scenic route, but it’s different scenery. Trust me, you won’t find it boring.”

  I pressed on. “It’s just that the last scenery was a little too… um, scenic for my tastes. I’d kind of like to look around Porlock and then go straight to Xanadu and Miranda.” I was almost desperate. “Or, you know, skip Porlock and go straight to Miranda. Either way.”

  Christabel stopped, put her hands on my shoulders, and looked me in the eyes. “When you are going through hell, keep going.”

  I know it was a kind of special moment. It was almost like sympathy, certainly the closest I was ever going to get from Christabel and I should have put my hand on her hand or something to show that I appreciated her solidarity. That’s what I should have done. Here’s what I did: I jumped back and pointed my finger at her and shouted, “Ah ha! Winston Churchill! Don’t you have to yell at yourself or something!? Ha ha!”

  But Christabel just shook her head with surprising equanimity. “Misattributed. Real author unknown. So it’s fair game.”

  “But it’s still a quote from someone?” I argued. “I mean someone must have said it, even if it wasn’t Churchill.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Answered Chri
stabel. “Someone has said almost everything. The Mad Dreamer is mostly concerned about known published authors.”

  “He seems like an oddly jealous god.” I said.

  “Oh.” She replied. “Does he?” And she led on and we followed.

  Amy came alongside and hooked her thumb around mine. “I thought you had her, too. I guess the History Channel has let us down yet again.” And there was the real sympathy I was looking for.

  We walked and camped and walked and camped and walked and camped until Christabel led us to a remarkable thing, something I never expected to see in the Caverns Measureless to Man: a wall. Not like a wall of a house or the wall of the Tower, rather a cave wall, just like you might imagine it, rough stone slightly cool and slightly damp. The only thing that distinguished this wall from any other cave wall was its size, stretching up into the sky above and away on either side into distant horizons.

  Christabel turned to us, and in a voice reminiscent of a nature show narration, said, “We are about to leave the Caverns Measureless to Man and enter into the Caves of Ice.”

  Amy said. “It’s all really just caves, right? I mean it’s just more caves. Since we got here it’s all been caves.” She held up her hands, as if afraid that she might have offended Christabel. “They’re nice caves. Definitely the nicest caves I’ve ever spent several months in, but I must admit, I was expecting more Xanadu and less caves. And more Miranda. I was definitely expecting more Miranda, too.”

  “Yeah!” I chimed in. “I was expecting more Miranda, also.”

  Christabel, being Christabel, gave a shrug. “Nothing ever matches expectation. Expectation is always just a construct, built of memory and fantasy, and it can never match reality. Reality is always different, even if only in the richness of the experience. It would probably be better to avoid it. Expectation, that is.”

  “But this isn’t reality.” Countered Amy. “It’s a dream, isn’t it?”

  “It’s all the reality you’re going to get.” Said Christabel and turned away.