Your sovereign?
The Great Khan.
Well, that’s it, isn’t it? Remind Rusty that you work for a king. He’s impressed by that sort of thing, right?
He knows I was frequently sent on missions by Kubilai, that we conversed often about what I saw when I returned.
Tell him more. Tell him you were a minister in his government, a Deputy Leader or something.
I do not know what position that might be, but I understand the spirit of your suggestion. You wish me to lie, dear Leonard?
Not lie, exactly. More like a metaphor: invent a position that captures the high esteem in which you were held. The position then becomes a symbol that expresses the truth of your relationship. See what I mean?
Your mind is subtle. I did offer invaluable assistance to the Great Khan in matters of salt …
Think bigger, Leonard said.
Nothing is bigger than salt! Mill said.
Sometimes Leonard forgot whom he was talking to.
Right, Leonard said. Then make yourself the senator of salt, if that does it.
I shall call myself Chief Emissary of Salt!
No, Leonard said. You must be at least a governor. Chief emissary is not enough.
The governor of Yang-chau! Mill said. I was there for a time. You know, they use paper lucre in Yang-chau.
That’s a start, Leonard said. But we need something more. Rusty’s a war nut, right? Tell him about your fierce battles, tell him you killed many warriors with your bare hands. Make him fear you.
But I have killed no one! Even the galley I commanded at Curzola was captured before we laid eyes on the enemy.
Find a way to make the statement symbolically correct.
I understand you, dear Leonard! I understand you. I heard someone speak once of deadly trebuchets …
Excellent! Leonard said.
A compromise
Rustichello and I have come to an understanding, Mill said the next night. He will destroy all tales of Kokachin, and I will allow him leeway on matters related to war and wealth. I have told him that humility prohibits me from speaking at length about my governorship or about my role in breaking the siege of Siang-yang-fu; he may mention these facts but I will not elaborate. Your advice, dear Leonard, has saved my reputation and that of Kokachin. Please, tell me if there is anything I may do for you — absolutely anything! When I am released I will speak to the officials who imprison you! I shall be rich then and all will know me. I will hire you as my advisor — you shall meet the Great Khan!
I’m good where I am, Leonard said.
I daresay you are not! Mill replied. But I have never asked: How is it that you have learned this mystical connection? You know that I have learned it from … well, you know from whom I have learned it. I recall well the days in that arid land. You know I met others there from Italy, though they did not travel there by ship. One, a Spaniard from Saragossa, had settled in Sicily. He was a Jew, with a Jew man’s beard and puzzling paraphernalia. He was freakishly tall and had a pronounced gap between his teeth. He juggled letters in the air. Look, he’d say, look! The letters are dancing!
Dancing? Leonard asked. The letters were dancing?
Letters are insubstantial, I know, but in that unusual place many things were possible.
Dancing? Leonard asked. Did you say they were dancing?
Another man arrived, a Greek obsessed with mathematics. He had settled in Crotone …
Like Pythagoras, Leonard murmured.
I believe that was his name! Mill said. Do you know him? You have traveled perchance in the south?
Not likely, Leonard said. He’s been dead thousands of years.
When the Jew with the letters met the Greek with the numbers, he wept. Can you imagine? You live! he cried. We are one! cried the Greek, and together they danced. They juggled letters and numbers together, making the most glorious patterns, which the people of that place turned into the most peculiar paintings, some of them made with sand. But you — how did you learn such fantastic methods of communication? How is it that you and I speak?
I just pick up the telephone, Leonard said.
You just pick it up. Fantastic, Mill said. No need to mutter formulas or turn this way and that around an invisible circle?
A what? Leonard felt the hairs in his afro stand on end.
You must be very advanced indeed, Mill said.
I gotta go, Leonard said, and hung up the phone. And did something he’d never done before: he took the phone off the hook, disabled call queuing, and walked out of his White Room in the middle of his shift.
The world was strange
The world was strange; the moon shone silverly on the safety swing, on which Felix seemed to have left some crowdies.
Milione knew about the circle? It was one thing to say he’d met Pythagoras in a desert, and saw a Spaniard with dancing letters, but the circle? Leonard sat on the swing facing the moon and held the crowdies out to Medusa, who was suddenly there. He pushed himself forward and back inchwise with his toe, not caring whether he dirtied his whitesuit.
A rare bird cried out in response to the swing’s rhythmic creakings.
How could a crazy man in the Finger Lakes District know about the circle? What was the circle? He seemed to think the circle enabled mystic communication …
Thwack! Leonard felt a sharp thrusting pain in the back of his head and fell forward, insensate, into the besoiling mud.
Whagghes
When he awoke, it was still night. Carol had him under the armpits and was dragging him through the mud toward her house.
Whagghes, he murmured. Carol looked back at him. There were actually three Carols in the starlight, three Carols all in fuzzy outline, wearing black climbing suits and dust caps, clutchbags slung over three of their six shoulders.
What were you doing out here? they hissed at him in unison. You’re supposed to be at work! What am I supposed to think when I look out my window and see a stranger swinging on the safety swing?
He knows about the circle, Leonard mumbled. Who do you think he really is?
If you can talk, you can walk, Carol said, dropping his arms so his head fell back again into the mud.
Am I wasting my life, Carol? Leonard asked, looking up at the stars. Should I find a ship, head out to sea?
Come inside for some chicory, she said. We’ll talk.
The world is full of wonders, Mill had said. All places have their fascination, you only have to pay attention. Bravery is easier, in the long run, than the alternative. The alternative being loneliness and fear.
Leonard rolled and turned gingerly onto his knees, then waited for the yard to stop swirling. When he finally stood, the back of his head pounded like justice sticks smashing against a door.
Inside, Carol had disposed of her clutchbag and was now wearing nightgear, as if Leonard really had disturbed her sleep with his spectral swinging. She was brewing chicory in a large earthenware samovar.
Leonard thought she was going to quiz him on his outrageous behavior, leaving the White Room in the middle of his shift, but no, she wanted to talk about Felix.
He’s the best boy in the world, isn’t he? she asked.
Of course, Leonard said, sitting down in a high-backed chair.
We’d do anything for him, wouldn’t we?
We would, Leonard said. Are there any tatties left?
We would never let anything bad happen to him, would we?
We wouldn’t, Leonard agreed.
We would protect him no matter what, Carol suggested.