Death in a Foreign Land

8/7/2019 Death in a Foreign Land

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Death In A Foreign Land (A Modern Fantasy)

-=-=Life begins when you fail. Or is that flail, or fall? Into the dark earth and the deep ground till the great

light and heat of the planet's core burn your eyes away. There! There is light! When the twinkling darkness you seebehind your eyelids becomes the only sight.

Then you rise, like a hot air balloon, weightless and cloudless, thoughts pure and high in the pristine air.Only to tumble, a scarce moment later, into the magnificent rudeness we call body.

Drifting in that small instance of time in between the two states, conclusions were made. If you would butwait a moment, the universe shrinks to a world tailored for your own pain and pleasure. If you did not, theuniverse remains as it is, a place for others. Yet, for all that, the enlightened philosophers, clinging to the lastvestiges of their thoughts, failed to recognize the temptation.

A little at a time, recorded through down the generations.In a world that is not our own, and all the trappings of humanity in towwhat we are we desire.

-=-=

Sixty four floors above the ground with blood rushing calmly to her head in rhythmic, delicate pulses,Beatrice Ambery answered her cell-phone. She hung upside down on her balcony, her voice only breathlessbecause the scenery was beautiful.

The universe narrowed to a world, and the world narrowed to a city. Below her and above her were starlitmazes. The clouds obscured the sky, and the fog covered the city. Between the folds of the smoky wisps were thescintillating, shivering lights that caught breaths of the world as the shadow of the earth moved over the moon.

If you would but wait a moment..Then you would ask me to wait for a month, a year, the rest of my life, until I die, naturally.You would know its unnecessary.

And I dont care.But Beatrice waited, because its his last wish. The moment would not be for deep thoughts. Her skin

prickled in the cool air and something so akin to elation shrouded her senses that she imagined that she wouldhave fallen into a swoon. There was a long silence at the end of the line before another mans voice spoke, butthere was never a reply.

Beatrice fell, and lived.

-=-=He would have found it if things had not fallen to the floor and became lost in the shuffle. What are you

waiting for, he asked himself. Theyre coming after you. Worse HE is coming after you.-=-=

Took to the hills they did," The man spat the words then stamped the ground. Clouds of dust rose, "Likecowards, worse than sheep."

"Sheep?" Surprised, Carathrus looked up from the man's beard, white flecked with ashes. He sniffed the

air tentatively, though the earth was already gaining a new pale green sheen, everything still smelled like smoke."Right, sheep," The man continued, leaning heavily against a boulder, "The sheep warned us. Scarce when

I started dreaming there was the horrible bleating going on. The ruckus had me awake screaming murder in themiddle of the night." The man coughed, and made a gurgling sound at the back of his throat. Wordlessly,Carathrus unstopped his gourd and passed it. The man rinsed his mouth with it before swallowing, dry leatherycheeks moving hungrily. Faint pink water dribbled from the corner his lips into the messy brown beard. Carathrustried not to stare. "When I came out, everyone was gone. Everyone that mattered mind you. It was a mess,

nothing's organized, the army, the guards, all the officials, even the clerks disappeared.""Who was left?" Carathrus asked, scanning the horizon. The man glanced at him

beneath thick eyebrows."Ah, no one keep track of such things." The man said. But there was something

different in the voice. Carathrus turned back toward the man and took a step backwards. The old eyes wereremarkably clear, the clearest things he had seen since the day he arrived at this backward kingdom. He could not

imagine how he missed them."You do." He said. All the refugees were gone, save this man."Ai, I do, shrewd child, The old man answered, counting the fingers of a large bony

hand, Women, children, laboring men." Carathrus waited. "The artisans and the artists. The man paused.Carathrus patience thinned and tore.

Who else? When there was no reply, Carathrus realized that the man was pursing his lips, a quizzicalexpression on his face, Did all the leaders leave?

"All the soldering men." He said."But I understand, there were sojourners among you. Were they gone also?""Who are you looking for?""A man, about my build, dark haired and dark eyes, almost black. Middle-aged by now, though vigorouslyso. Carathrus paused, A man whos never been able to conceal his vanity.The elder mans eyes widened.


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"For he had been minister to the king for many years, ever since I could remember."Many years..."Carathrus breathed. The man looked at Carathrus with his awful

eyes."You know him?""No, I heard, that's all. He's said to be a man of great powers.""Oh, do you seek one of them?"

"I do, Carathrus answered, Where may I find him?""Who knows where they went," gestured vaguely. Carathrus followed the fingers and found hills, beautiful

emerald hills concealed by mist.""What name did you know him by?""Dust."The man laughed.

Why, and you must be Tumbleweed! Weve been waiting for you.-=-=

In the movements of salivating, chewing, and swallowing, there was all the make of a cannibal. Sevenyear old Anatole Calvary looked down the table at his father, at the mad motions the whiskered cheeks and thefamiliarity of the fine gray eyes, and felt nauseated.

Why must we eat animals? He asked. This was a question only childhood could own. He did notremember if anyone answered him, but then, he did not remember himself asking the question at all.

People were divine at thirteen. They do not respect their fathers and are prone to fits of maudlinmasquerades and nihilistic religiosity. Amidst the proper pretensions, Anatole Calvary forgot his compunctionsagainst meat and consumed steak with gusto inside an empty house while the girl in the next apartment tried hervoice at Fortuna Imparetrix Mundi.

The words foamed, bubbled, and burst around him, leaving a residual clinging onto his subconciouness,like the yellow prints of waves upon the dark brown beach.Crest, trough, crest, trough- and the pull of the moon commands through a mutual gravitational

attraction. So people move, people meet, and congregate in a chronically logical rhythm.The sun was always bright overhead, and the sky always blue. They sat on the green grass eating oranges

and apples.The world is vile, a pointless cycle. Their teeth were white and their skin golden, yet the wind brought a

strange grayish cast to their faces.Our lives meaningless.

Feed, cloth, and put a roof over our heads. Idealism is weak, weak, weak!They lacked all the lyricism of the famous dead, but Anatole was shrewd, terminally bored, and only a

little mad. He saved a dime every time he heard similar. An Eurail youthpass (available for persons below 26 ofage), covers seventeen countries and three months. It costs $1,160.00. He ran away from home two monthsbefore he turned eighteen.

By then, he was sure he was immortal.-=-=

The shape of a well molded body beneath stony diaphanous gowns made Pygmalion worship Galatea. Thepoets never mention the sculpted expression on Galateas plummet measured face because Pygmalion did not, andAphrodite did not see. Else, Aphrodite would never have granted that awful wish. In a temple dedicated to her inancient Greece, there was a statue of her languorously supine with a dark spot between her thighs and a foolishstory to match. Better, the goddess thought with her bright head when the Cyprian asked- in jurisprudence of lust-idiot flesh than blasphemous stone.

Galatea, when she found herself alive and wrapped within an embrace that burned her smooth pale skin,

screamed. But then Pygmalion smothered her scream with a kiss. And she clung to him, all the hope she had in theworld. Love flourished, for it ever been perfect thing when it was desperate thing, when the world offered nothingelse.

-=-=The shadows in the room danced with an evil glee, an evil confidence. They crept in slowly at first and

bled quicksilver through words into minds.

Sentient trees, sentient lions, and sentient computers. Surely you knew everyone was afraid of theshadows. Surely you knew who watch shadows: artists, writers, musicians, dreamers, and engineers.

The shadows were alive. If computers could gain sentience, why not words.

Why not, indeed! Peter Pans shadow leapt and escaped.This would not be a story about growing up. They would be already old. So they whispered when people

died.-=-=Tumbleweed, Carathrus in his own tongue, followed the shepherd down into the deep of the city. In the bottom ofthe crater there always a king.-=-=

What do you think of it?Of the theme, the subject, or the execution?Lets talk about its effects on you.


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Anatole leaned back and squinted his eyes as he peered out the tinted window. Filtered sunlight is verystrange, artificially beautifully to the mind and disgustingly sentimental to the soul. Contemplation of aestheticsalways left him with a vague feeling of unease, the sticky sensation as if he had just been deceived.

I feel, Here he paused, and turned toward the woman with a disarming smile, Non-existent. Shelooked back at him adoringly.

Its wonderful isnt it? The freedom in that?

Anatole was tempted to her that he had felt no other way in his life. Briefly, he thought of the pincis-=-=

Under the moon, blood cooled and hardened.Are you a warrior, sir, to slay so many?I am a messenger, my message killed them. She touched his forearm.Am I a murderer, to stand aside? The messenger shoved the woman away, silver armor and silver sword

flashing in the shuddering light of the building.Why would you end this? We are not vampires, ghouls, or monsters. We do not gather the worlds

resources for our own.Ask yourself why you stood aside, He said, You know why I spared you.

-=-=Jump over the stream.I have met with the sky.And what did he say? Anatole asked. He walked deeper into the tunnel until he reached an airy chamber

of carve stalagmite and rough stalacite. In the center of the room was a green brazier. A fine fire burned there,warm with an evil confidence that it cannot die. Shadows danced on the smooth walls.

In the manifesto of impressions, what is a moment perpetrates into eternity.

This is immortality! Anatole shivered, and grasped the talisman tighter. His fingernails began to fill up withblood. A loose stone tumbled down from above and struck theDo you see now? Shadows asked him, their strange voices echoing, They had named it doors in the

corridor, named it subconscious memory, given it status of another realm, another rewardfor the deeds of yourflesh.

But do you see. Time is, after all, accidents of thought, mere reactions; in the trembling meaning of time,we do not have to end.

Something was always happening, but that hardly made life better, nor times more interesting. The subtletouch of the clock that was the changing light of the sky mere illusions of perception.

Then the wind knocked at the albogues. It knocked until an insistent voice called out, Anatole? Anatole!Mr. Calvary, open the door right now! Its here, IT IS HERE!

The sky was peach colored, and it bled through the edges of the cumulus clouds staining it like cottoncandy. Today was January 26, 2004.

When Anatole walked past the living room, he noticed the block letters of the calendar said Monday, and

above it on the clock face, 4:59pm. When he answered the door and learnt that the talisman has been found, theclouds were inked in red. The gibbous moon just begun its somber journey to the zenith. The clock in the livingroom beeped five times.

The man outside of door, face red and full with exertion had his hands clenched into fists. He wassweating profusely, beads of moisture clung to his lips and even his eyelashes, and his head was a reflectingsurface for the halogen lights on the ceiling.

Sir! Gross treatment! I protest! He whispered fiercely, the accusatory tone lost in his breathlessness,

though it did not stop his words echoing in the corridor.Come in then, Ignoring the curses, loosening the latch, Anatole opened the door and made way to the

kitchen. The man followed. The countertop might have been clean, but it was buried under piles of books anddossiers. Anatole reached under one pile, rummaged for a bit before coming up with a particularly battered folder.He flipped it open and smiled half-heartedly at the bald man who was staring intently at something on the table.

Egan Diestrich, Anatole said, and tried again, Egan! This time, the man came to attention and looked

at Anatoles dark eyes with his own almost colorless ones. Egan was a handsome man of perhaps a vigorous fiftyor a decadent forte, originally of compact build by the set of his shoulders and his stance, but theres a roundnessto his middle that suggested strenuous physical exercise was not his forte.

And falling is so easy, even climbing is unnecessary. As long as movements persist, there's Fallingambling beside them in every tick of the clock. Egan read the slip of paper lying between the pages of an openbook, the words barely legible. He looked up at Anatole and said, Dr. Egan, if you please.

Anatole shrugged, and found himself transfixed. Questions forgotten, the clock on the microwave caughthis eye. Anatole looked at it again. 5:15pm. But his eyes focused on the small letters. Where it said Monday, it isThursday. He furrowed his brows slightly. Thurs.

Look, it begins. Egan said, following Anatoles gaze. Anatole looked at the calendar again, aware of eachstep and each breath he had taken before he opened the door and saw Egan glistening and pink in the coolcorridor.


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Anatole is a mnemonist like them all. What they hold precious is their memories, and within the memories, theirlore. Once, it had given them the reason to exist.

Time? I didnt know it can turn time. He said, turning back to look at Egan, Dr. Egan, he remindedhimself.

It doesnt. Its Thursday.You mean three days passed without us noticing?

No. Egan sat himself down, closing the book in front of him with a loud noise, It is Thursday, before youopened the door, the talisman is in the open, and it affected us. Said he, his head bowed forward while his eyes,

suddenly Anatole how awful their round shapes seemed, searched his face, Do you understand me. Quiet was inthe room. The clock ticks. Uselessly, Anatole thought.

I dont want to.Ah, but you do. I ran all the way over here to tell you. Dont play with an old mans heart. I mightve

died.Unsure whether that was a joke, Anatole raised an eyebrow and said no more. He walked to the

coffeemaker and poured out two small cup of espressos. The bitterness scalded his throat, but Anatole watchedEgan, and Egan watched back as they drank.

There is no joy in that knowledge. Anatole said at length, exhaling slowly, That we do not know whatwe know.

Just the five senses, Egan said, The corporeal burden. Its no worse than having imbibed too muchnarcotics, alcohol, He lifted his cup before taking a swallow, Or coffee.

But there is no choice, Anatole answered, And that concerns us. Where is the talisman found?Its taken. Anatole shoved back on his chair and leapt up. The chair toppled onto the carpet with a soft

thump.

What?Taken, lost, found and lost again.But you said its here. Realization dawned, It is here, but who has it?

Egan considered this slowly.Thats what were trying to find out isnt it?All that tracking. Anatole started, then stopped.Has been worthwhile, Egan said, standing up, Well, Master Anatole, looks like contact is inevitable.Anatole laughed dryly. He had hoped to avoid that.

Youve all the information? I trust? Egan asked, I must leave, Ive to warn others.

The motions were a blur, but after Egan left, and Anatole sank into his chair again, staring at the sametinted windows, the colors looked tired, he cant but wonder if Egan himself was an affect of the talisman.

-=-=

If beyond the hill there was a city, Terry does not want to see it, as he did not wish to cross the body of water thatwould lead him to touch the multitudinous earth black in the horizon. The gondola under the moon moved swiftly,

cutting across the placid surface of the lake in an incandescent streak of silver. It would not be right, Ennisthought, as small waves lapped gently at the toes of his new boots, if I have what someone else desires though Ido not want it. Unconsciously, he clutched a small canvas bag tighter.

The gondolier saw him through the mist and his brows furrowed. The man sitting in the hull spoke, "He is there?"

"He is."

There were no more words until Terry jumped onboard, clearly used to leaping skillfully, and unused to balancing.He toppled forward. Someone caught his arm. Ennis thought the grip almost bruised his arm. It did not worry himas much as he knew for a fact that he knew it knew it almost did. The logic wavered, and vanished at the soundof the other mans voice.

"Captain General Henry Cataline."

"I..."

I am to escort you the Marble Court.

You have no army. Terry blurted out, then was abashed. He did not want to say it, not really. The phrase hadreassured him like a secret strength, and now it has gone to join all the other sounds in the night. He felt himselfsomething in him crumple as he sat opposite the captain general.

I will. Cataline assured him, And youre our Commander.

Here was no mistaking in that tone and those sharp eyes that said But you must delegate them to me.


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-=-=

Long Bay. Auckland. New Zealand.

There were people, perhaps far less than other places, but more than enough. Sandcastles, trenches, dams,

crayfish and colorful buckets along with swimsuits and wetsuits of all colors on the shore and in the only slightly-warm waters melded the landscape together into a rhythm of a Southern Hemisphere summer.

Christmas had just passed, but the mood lingered as all good things wish to. Weekends still meant barbequeparties and picnics. A little in the distance, a group of children were jumping off the wharf in succession, upsettinga tourist angler in a white bucket hat.

The sand was a very fine and white, and of the twelve bays on the North Shore, this is the longest stretch ofbeach. Consequently, Anatole thought that when the familiar ring of voice penetrated his hearing, at least the tonewould be annoyed. Perhaps it would not be annoyed as he would be, but theres still some satisfaction in theequally sharing the pain.

Eh um... The lazy sound was conspicuous in the shrieks and soft es unique to the Australasia. Anatole turnedonto his side, and indulged in the soothing continuous shrieks of people as sausages, rather, lunch, burntthemselves on the grill. At least, the wind is blowing the other way.

The appropriate messages had been sent and received. While knowing that locking himself within his apartment

may be the wisest course to take, Anatole also know that he was immortal, to a point. Youre taking a risk by nottaking a risk someone told him once, and he decided to justify himself with that. Reason was very important.

Collapsed against a beach towel on the sand breaks, his thoughts were gloomy. The talisman would not be in theopen. Paradoxically speaking, as long as it remained out of the glare of the sky, theyre safe from having theirsenses altered. Whoever held it must be one of them, and the dangers were obvious. Yet they, no, we must trackit down for no other reason than towhatsafeguard it against that other thing

It was all planned out ages ago. But he knew there would be those who would want to come and look for him.

Suffice to say, he did not wish to see them. The scene with Dr. Egan burned in his mind until even his dreams wereof letters and numbers that change when his back was turned.

So he hopped on a plane and flew halfway around the world. Nevertheless, theres the expected foot by his head.Long ago, Anatole had realized that the most useful skills are those that cause the most annoyance to people.Stealth is one of them.

The foot was capped in white Nike sneakers, and in the vagary of those trying to sleep, Anatole briefly wonderedwhether he could grab that sharp boomerang and throw it until the voice and the foot were neatly severed. Hesmiled at the violence of that thought. Things would get done.

Uhyou dead there?

Anatoles mouth twisted into a grimace, but he decided not to reply.

Running away from responsibilities is, well, irresponsible. If you didnt want the job, you shouldnt have signedup. Anatole became amused. The voice paused, perhaps detecting the logical fallacy in the sentence.

How did you find me? Anatole asked, opening his eyes and envying the foam on the crests of the high tides. Herefused to look at the owner of the sneakers.

Youve the nerve, running off before we know the extent of its powers. Someone sat down beside him, entirelytoo close on a summers day. Reluctantly, Anatole turned his head and looked at his visitor. Simon Keeling, by the

way. You havent met me yet. I have never seen your aura before. The man reached out a hand and Anatoleshook it, with as much politeness as he could muster.

The man, or rather, youth, who greeted him had one of those closed faces, a thin smiling mouth that lookedentirely too sensitive on a strong-cut jaw with a face that was just slightly disturbing in the incongruous angles ofthe cheekbones jutting out from what shouldve been a friendly, round, face.

Great, now we have a heathen, and did you use tarot cards to track me down? Anatole muttered.

Simon chuckled beside him.


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I wouldnt say that. We tracked your credit card. If you wanted to hide, you were very stupid.

Its more of a gesture. Anatole replied, gesturing vaguely, We know it what it means, between us.

Simons eyes narrowed slightly before he grinned. Us, obviously, despite the syntax, excluded him. AnatoleCalvary, late twenties in appearance, Third Lock, and a curmudgeon by reputation- yes, he read the files, heard

the stories, and now having met him, found the dark-haired young men very undistinguished looking in a polo shirtand khaki shorts. Oh, but the glances from the eyes told more than the fire and the sword.

If only we were children again, Simon said. He liked children, and remembered his own childhood with a fondnessthat was only possible for memories that might have well been imagination, This wouldve been a good place togrow up. He watched a child of nine or ten dragging an dinghy into the waves of his friends. The childs lips were

blue, but Simon felt deep, subtle satisfaction of knowledge that it had to be healthy.

I doubt it. Anatole said quickly, standing up. The holiday was over. They must have gotten his point. SimonKeeling did not know him. He dusted himself off, and a rivulet of sands ran down the creases of his shirt.

-=-=

What Henry Cataline brought to the Marble Court was more than a suspicious boy with an archaic looking bag.What the Minister of the Marble Court knew in his seventy story office building was that Henry Cataline brought ina weapon the minute the elevator door slid open.

The City of New York did not sleep. Henry Cataline did not die.

Immortality is kept fit in this flux of the world, full of flashing lights and blaring horns, silent penthouses and

rustling, softly tapping offices.

He will find our talisman? Finn asked Henry, just between friends.

Would you be offended if I call your descendant bait? Henry answered easily, Its rather like Excalibur and itsmagical sheath wouldnt you say?

Finn, the Minister of the Marble Court, scowled as Henry laughed.

So you would use it against me?

Henry hesistated. He thought of the necklace of the talisman and the talisman itself, one to distort perception, andthe other to rid of it altogether. They felt the effect of the talisman some days ago. Fortunately, it was Sunday and

ice-creams that turned from milk to vanilla was a small matter, though it was worrying that, even with the detectoron, he did not know what exactly was he supposed to taste because it had only one function, to blink whentalismans environment changed.

Well? Finn demanded.

Perhaps, Henry mused, a fingertip skimming over the Cohiba cigars in a box nearby, Though it would be very

confusing, for all of us. He picked one, and cut the end before putting it back into the box unlighted.

Finn snorted and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back and looked down. He felt self-righteouslydramatic and wondered why anyone would want to disturb the peace. Everythingsso nice.

What about the boy, Inman or something?

Ennis. Henry Cataline sat and admired the view outside the window, feeling anachronistic sipping gin and tonicand looking at sharp spires of lightening rods several kilometers up and tearing the sky, Hes sleeping. Hell

remember, then the one with the talisman would have to come and look for him else die of madness.

After all, boy made it in the first place. Finn turned around, and looked at Henry Cataline with an intensity thatcould not mask its origin in fear, You dont think anyone would actually like to be mad would you? Imagine,madness for an eternity.

He must be really, really bored to do that. Henry pointed out. The Court of Marble did not believe in futility,neither did they believe in carpe diem. There was always tomorrow, and when you live in a world within a world,possibilities propagate until all musings of existence fades into the background. Theres a saying that goes Lifeand death in taxes. Living in the Marble Court was like paying two sets of taxes, or three, if you tithe.


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Henry Cataline thought about the boy as Finn came and sat down beside him, and wondered for a bit why the boywould remember about the army, of all things. They were silent now. Between friends, their thoughts extended tothe same person.

Ennis lay sleeping somewhere in a room in the skyscraper, dreaming of knife held by wind stabbing the bottom ofthe gondola repeatedly until water started to spout.

He tasted salt on his lips when he woke up in the middle of the night and tossed and turned as he started to

remember. He reached out and stopped the CD player though the words continued to echo in his mind.

And as the first flicker of memory stirred into a drug-subdued mind, Ennis remembered falling, and the blindingflash. He opened his eyes.

He put a hand to his forehead and cursed. He thought he left them behind forever.

-=-=

The players were set. The board was ready to be played.

And the question: do we want power? One card.

There must be thrones and there must be crowns. There must be dudgeons and courts of judgment. Two cards,three cards. Look, your life will be peaceful, your lost love found.

In Thailand, a doorway veiled in beads drew apart. Sunglasses and shawls from Hermes worked well as cauls. Sothe hooded figure immerged and found a car waiting outside. The questionable and suggestive part of town was

entirely too engrossed in itself to notice that the woman clutched at her heart in a sudden, furious gesture beforeopening the door of the car and falling inside.

Bangkok was temporarily Paris, or perhaps it was vice versa. Either party wouldve not been pleased to hear thatand wished great misery upon the mind that dared to believe that, even worse, to have lived it.

And the mind inside the car was miserable. It pleaded that it was focusing on one thing, and had always been a bittunnel-visioned. It also remembered two things.

One thing about immortality is that historys greatest people are not your neighbors just because you existed in thesame them period. The other thing is that as long as immortality remains an average human trait, no great geniuswas going to suddenly immerge onto the world stage.

She had been vastly disappointed in both, but found a curious sort of relief in fortune telling and hynotism- both ofwhich shes immue to though the experience gives her a mystic thrill of having been reincarnated. It was not true,but the categorization eased the pain of confusion somewhat. Hence, the worse the fortune teller, the happier shewas, until today.

People tell you what you wanted to hear, and you thank them because it reaffirmed you. The great strength, shefound, was in the effort to disbelieve them. History repeats itself because people are egocentric. She found no

reason to encourage it though she could not take her own advice.

While in the throes of personal philosophy in front of a bewildered wielder of cheap crystal ball, amazed at the lightin the others eyes, there was a blinking light, and the landscape changed. It was not easy not to trust yourself,despite all the melodramatic claims of the importance of self-esteem and self-confidence. Everything was upset.

She took her sunglasses off and turned on her palm-pilot.

There was one other things about people like her. The thought expressed disdain upon the simile. Provided that the

population was stable, the bureaucracy of immortals were amazing, the hierarchy unshakable when people foundso much solace in the presence of each other in the long eternity.

Where are we meeting, The woman asked the driver, As in, the meeting that is not about the time when wellmeet.

Las Vegas.

The woman shuddered at the thought of people and smoke filled rooms.

At least there are no clocks, and it might as well been everywhere. She placated herself.


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At least its not Missouri, The driver said glumly, Theyll will come.

Including Anatole Calvary?

Especially him.

The woman inhaled sharply, and braced herself.

She tried painting in Italy, ceramics in Rome, scuba diving in Palau. Her passports showed her history.

Anatole Calvary stayed home and no one knew what he did, but from a mind obscured by mists of time and

distracting things, she remembered that once Anatole wanted power and died chasing it.

Furthermore, he hated them, and was therefore not a subject of the hierarchy though he should, third one down,right after Mr. Channings of the perpetual blue-suit.

Dissatisfied dabblers worried her. They tend to have their own ideas about things.

-=-=

There was no where he belonged. He knew nothing of the particulars of a society. He belonged to nowhere.

Idiots.

So we said.

Did you bring one?

Simon blanched.

You mean he didnt even show you the detector.

I didnt think to ask.

Theres strength in being contrary.

Only in the right occasions.

-=-=

Your old lover?

My sister. But let me assure you, all fraternal affection in me had vanished. In fact, any affection at all.

What did she do?

Oh, engagina dn breaking the engagement in my house, political turmoil and all that. Small things, smallrivalries.

The Society of Luck is after it.

Hellas laughed, It sounds like Joy Luck Club.

Well, theres no joy in this club. The Society of Luck is precisely that, they breed humans with luck.

It sounds ridiculous.

But the method works, indirectly. An ancient form of eugenics. Cruel and efficient.

What good does that do?

Small but many many lucrative ventures. The emphasis on many c

How old are we?


9/10

Thousands of years apiece at least.

Dont say that, it makes time sound like something to be alloted.

Well it is!

The union between the heir to the Marble Court and the girl of Threads.

It will destroy the Marble Court.

Who are they sending?

Alex Adraxis, Sealbearer and SEAL trained, hell hide it inside the painting, do we know about the painting?

We know about the painting.

Hell hide it there, and then the girl will be brought in.

Shes his lover, all she wants is to walk with him.

Chocolates, asparagus, wine, oysters..

Anatole coughed, disrupting the conversation.

Gentleman, were not planning seduction, and if we were, this is remarkably stupid.

Your hormones should not be your friends.-=-=

Court of Lapis Lazuli is small has but one thing, treasury.

Stone Court, separated into the inner and outer, the high, the low, and the middling.

Marble Court, the Consistorial

The Society of Luck.

Were People of Fall.

The fallen?

Thats a bit rich, coming from mortals.

We fell when we died, thats all.

You can talk about death? Theres an unmistakable awe in the boys voice.

As you can. She shuddered, we didnt really die you see. We fell.

She told him her story, the embarrassment in it having faded

I fell over the castle ways chasing a pet squirrel.

So your head cracked open.

Well, there is that, but once you fall, you fall Are you following this?

Are you angels?

We wish.

Forever afterwards, there is the myth about the light at the end of a tunnel.

Now, tell me about Deryn.


10/10

A man is doomed to repeat his childhood. A man of eighty tells a child of eight what he was told seventy-two yearsago and thinks them his own thoughts. An ill-informed man of forty takes chances on the stock market as he tookon binge drinking at twenty years old. And when he was eighteen, he kissed the girl as he kissed his pillows atnight only couple of years previous.

Knuckles, not pillows. Someone called out. The crowd laughed,

The thousand wooden panel walls could not penetrate the Christmas of Simon Keeling's heart.

-=-=

He looked up, and think it must be burning. It was. The conflagration upon the roof flames stark orange

He looked at the huddled couple beside the wall,

Beneath the streetlights

Wondered at the compound itself, made of yellow earth and small rectangular windows, black to outsiders

You must leave. Alex said. They looked up fearfully at him.

Follow, and youll meet the world outside, follow the road, youll be on highway 81. Theres a car there, take it.

But theyre coming, and he must run.

Down into the sewers

People of Luck! Choosing ceremony

-=-=

Documents

Death in a Foreign Land