But I slept, first. I was exhausted by our struggle. I wrapped up in my black and silver and watched the moon for a while; Brom lay next to me roaring. Mongolfier wouldn't sleep; he sat straight up, with his back against a tree, and watched.
I dreamed that night of the warren, of running on Path toward the inside, through great and little rooms where chests were kept and gossips studied cords, circling in a spiral nearer to the center past people smoking and kids playing, into narrow passages of angelstone in the dim small deep insides. I awoke without reaching the center, and thinking that after all I had never known where exactly the center of Belaire was, to see Mongolfier still sitting, paler with his vigil and with his, his Gun, as he called it, in his lap, waiting.
"All right," I said. "All right." I rubbed my eyes and sat up. He got up, stiff with tension, and held out his hand for the silver ball and glove. I searched in my pack for them; they called to me softly from beneath the raggedies piled on top of them. "Now," he said, when he had them, his voice hoarse with no sleep, but calm for the first time since I'd met him. He led me down through the pasture to where Plunkett stood amid the meadow flowers. "Sit, sit," he said, "and close your eyes."
I sat, but wouldn't close my eyes. I watched silver fog rising out of the valley of That River. I watched Mongolfier at the engine: he drew on my glove, and with it brought the ball close to the pedestal on which Plunkett sat, and then released it: as though thrown, it buried itself within the glassy box, lining up with the others there. Its whistle ceased as it entered. He pretended, with his gloved hand, to turn that ball, that knob, and it turned. The sphere on top of the pedestal, clearer than glass, grew clouded, as though filling with smoke; Mongolfier turned the knob until the sphere was black: as black as way-walclass="underline" a black no-place in the morning.
"Plunkett is dead," he said. "Close your eyes." With the other glove, the glove he had brought, he pretended to turn a black knob, and the sphere rose off its pedestal. "Close your eyes," he said again, worried, glancing from me to his machine.
"All right," I said, but didn't. I put my hat on. I took it off again. The black sphere came slowly before my face. I had a moment to feel the limitless fear I had felt before way-wall as it filled up my sight: and then I closed my eyes.
And opened them here.
Yes. And you must close them now again, the story's told…
Wait. Put down the glove. I'm afraid.
Afraid?
Afraid for him, for me. What do I do, angel, alone, stuck like the fly, when I'm not here telling this?
Nothing. If you dream, they are the dreams you wake from having already forgotten. But I don't think you dream: no, nothing, probably.
It seems I'm still in that meadow, and that I, I mean my story, just got here to be told. But that can't be so. I've told all this before.
Yes.
Why don't I remember?
You aren't here, Rush. There isn't anything here of you but - but something like a slide of the Filing System, that can only reveal you by -
Interpenetration.
Interpenetration, yes. With another. Who is gone now, while you're here, who will return when you are gone. But nothing spoken to you while you are here can affect you, any more than the picture of Plunkett could smile back at you if you smiled at it; when you are in yet another, you will be surprised again to find yourself here, surprised that a moment ago you sat in the meadow with Mongolfier; and you'll marvel at the dome, the clouds,' and tell your story again. What it is to be you when you aren't here but on your pedestal, we don't know; we only know that sometimes you come from that sleep asleep, sometimes awake…
How many times? How many?
… and each time ask that. When our son… when my son is grown, Rush, and takes you on himself, if he dares, you will have been awakened here three hundred times, in twice as many years.
No. No, angel..
Many lives, Rush. Painted Red said.
But she's gone. They're all gone. And I… what did I do, then, angel, in my life? Did I grow old? Did I ever go down the hill? And Once a Day… oh, angel, what became of me?
I don't know. There are those who, having been you, have guessed; have dreamed or imagined how you returned to Belaire, the saint you became. Mongolfier said he watched you, after the old copter had come for him, watched you marvel at it, watched you watch it fly off with him.' that's all we know. We know nothing else, Rush, but what you tell us. It's all you here now, Rush.
And do I each time learn this? And then forget? As though I were Mother Tom in her box, like the strip of paper looped by St. Gene?
Yes.
Then free me now, angel. Let me sleep, if I can't die. Free me, quickly, while I can still bear all this..
Yes. Sleep now, brave man; sleep again, Rush; close your eyes, close your eyes. Forget.
Only… wait, wait. Listen: the one who I am, you must be gentle with him, angel, when he returns, remember. Here, take my hand, take his hand. Yes. Don't let go. Promise.
Yes. I promise.
Stay with him.
Ever after. I promise. Now close your eyes.
The End
This file was created with BookDesigner program
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LRS to LRF parser v.0.9; Mikhail Sharonov, 2006; msh-tools.com/ebook/
Table of Contents
THE FIRST CRYSTAL: Many Lives
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Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Sixth Facet
Seventh Facet
Eighth Facet
THE SECOND CRYSTAL: The Laughter of the Legless...
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Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Sixth Facet
Seventh Facet
Eighth Facet
THE THIRD CRYSTAL: A Letter from Dr. Boots
First Facet
Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Sixth Facet
THE FOURTH CRYSTAL: The Sky Is Grass
First Facet
Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Table of Contents
THE FIRST CRYSTAL: Many Lives
First Facet
Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Sixth Facet
Seventh Facet
Eighth Facet
THE SECOND CRYSTAL: The Laughter of the Legless...
First Facet
Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Sixth Facet
Seventh Facet
Eighth Facet
THE THIRD CRYSTAL: A Letter from Dr. Boots
First Facet
Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet
Sixth Facet
THE FOURTH CRYSTAL: The Sky Is Grass
First Facet
Second Facet
Third Facet
Fourth Facet
Fifth Facet