Chapters Thirty-four and Thirty-five

Two nights later, Eran and I were hip to hip in a booth in one of the darkest corners of Tarrazu.  At the other end of the room Byron Morgan, the Colony’s long-haired troubadour-in-residence, perched on a tall stool center stage, regaling the crowd with soulful ballads about the brave new world that awaited us on Novus S.  Even though the location of our booth, combined with the music, the clink of cups against saucers, and the hum of muted conversation pretty much guaranteed we wouldn’t be overheard, Eran leaned close to murmur, “We’re hosting a mix.”

My brow furrowed in confusion as I whispered,  “We don’t do that anymore, remember?”

His reply was underlined by a look that spoke volumes.  “According to Rune, we do.”

“Oh, I get it.  Spook stuff.  Okay, when are we hosting this mix?”

“Tonight, apparently.  Eleven o’clock.”

I gazed at him in exasperation.  “It’s past eight now.  How come you waited so long to tell me?”

“I only just found out myself.  Rune waylaid me in the corridor as I was on my way to meet you.”

I nodded.  “Corridors seem to be his preferred area of operation these days.  Okay, we’re having a mix.  I wonder who we invited.”

“Whom.”

“What?”

“I wonder whom we invited.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Whom did we?”

“As near as I can tell, everyone but our erstwhile social secretary, who continues to keep a judicious distance from our group gatherings.”

My lips quirked wryly.  “Poor Rune.  What’s that old saw?  Be careful what you wish for?  A year ago, he was so bored, he had to invent undercover games.  Now he’s got enough real, live danger and intrigue to last him a lifetime.  If he’s not sitting in on Enid’s interviews, he’s cozying up to the rest of the Council to keep tabs on them.  If he’s not doing that, he’s trying to stay one step ahead of the informants and save people like us—or give them a fighting chance, anyway.”

“Gaspar’s had his hands full lately, I’ll grant you that.”  Eran’s eyes narrowed.  “You know what was really interesting about our brief encounter?  He muttered something that sounded remarkably like, ‘Get ready to welcome a couple unexpected guests.’  Assuming I heard him correctly ….”

Our eyes met.  He didn’t have to elaborate; I knew exactly what he was thinking.  Tonight’s shindig would introduce new faces into our circle.  Who would it be?  I didn’t have a clue, but I looked forward to being surprised.

Chapter 35

Of course, there are gee-isn’t-this-wonderful surprises, and there are surprises that make your blood run cold.  Before the night was over, we had one of each.

Our “guests” started to trickle in one by one beginning shortly after ten, greeting Eran from the corridor with bottles of wine, flirtatious smiles, and double entendres suitable for the ostensible occasion, in case anyone was paying the remotest attention.  Everyone except Aduviri and the as-yet unidentified newbies was there by ten thirty, giving us time to work ourselves into a fit of hot and heavy guesswork about the identities of Gaspar’s latest rescue cases.

I had thought of Liriene probably a hundred times since our conversation, longing to turn her on to life so badly I could taste it, so I wanted to whoop with joy when she and Na’weh showed up at Eran’s portal.  Liriene had draped a calf-length, gauzy yellow tunic over her black jumpsuit, reminding me of a bashful butterfly on her first night out of the cocoon.  That impression, heightened by the shy, hopeful light in her coffee brown eyes, probably accounted for my self-control.

While Liriene appeared disarmingly tentative, Na’weh seened ready for almost anything.  Dressed in black leggings, calf-high black suede boots, and the blue-purple, black-flowered tunic Lu had immortalized in her portrait, she fairly danced into the salon, her curious expression alight with obvious anticipation.

“Our mystery guests have arrived,” Eran announced as he escorted them into our midst.  Call me biased, but I thought he looked every inch the gallant host in his charcoal-gray slacks and tunic.  Liriene and Na’weh were greeted by an assortment of beaming smiles.

“Hello,” grinned Lexi.  She and Jordi sat on the beige-carpeted deck—he leaning against the right-hand bulkhead, she between his drawn-up knees, her back cradled by his chest.  They radiated warmth in earth tones from his brown slacks and khaki-colored tunic, open at the chest, to her silken, butter-yellow, high-collared pullover.

“Welcome!” said Jordi.

“So it’s you!” exclaimed Lu, who was curled up in one of the broad-backed chairs, her legs drawn up under her, her clingy red jumpsuit shimmering like a flame against the leather.  “Rune absolutely refused to tell us who was coming.  He’s got a secretive streak, you know.”

Alis and Ziv chorused an amused, “Really?”  The tandem reply made them seem even more like a couple than the fact that they had coincidentally dressed in the same shade of midnight blue—the doctor in a long-sleeved, hooded caftan and Ziv slacks and a sleeveless v-necked tunic.  Sitting side by side on Eran’s brown-leather sofa, they made a striking pair:  petite, blond, analytical beauty meets tall, dark, handsome philosopher.  Tempted to try my hand at match-making, I let the fleeting image of those two as a for-real couple briefly distract me.

“Kai-Lee!” murmured Liriene, recapturing my attention as she wrapped me in a light, orchid-scented hug.  She drew back, clasping my hands as she smiled at me.  “I am so happy to find you here!  I have thought of you more than once since our chat in the library.”

“I’ve thought of you too, and trust me, I’m even happier to see you than you are to see me!  I’ve been itching to win you over to our way of thinking ever since we talked that day.”

She tilted her head.  “And yet, you remained silent all this time.”

The apology slipped out all on it’s own.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just that ….”  I hesitated.

“Yes?”

Would she understand?  Well, all I can do is tell her, I decided, and plowed ahead.   “It’s just that as far as we can tell, the awakening isn’t that simple.”

“Je ne comprends.  What is this … awakening?”

“That’s what Lexi calls our … uh … change of heart.”  Since she didn’t appear to be following, I clarified.  “You know, awakening—as in, waking up to the truth.”

Comprehension dawned.  “Ah.”

“Like I said, it’s not as simple as, ‘Hey, Liriene!  Have I got an eye-opener for you!’  The spark that gets it all going seems to be more internal than external.  We don’t know exactly how or why, but certain people become receptive to the truth.  Until and unless that happens, pointing it out doesn’t do the trick.  If it did, Ke-Ling’s message would have convinced everyone on board, right?  We would all be believers.”

“One would certainly suppose so,” she agreed readily.

“Except things haven’t turned out that way.  Thanks to Ke-Ling, everyone has heard the truth, but ninety-nine point nine percent of them are in terminal denial.”

“C’est vrai,” she agreed with a small, sad sigh.

“That day in the library, you—”

“I was not ready.”  She smiled.  “You are right.  I would not have understood.”

“But you do now.”  My lips curved, as I shook my head.  “Can’t tell you what a relief that is.  I’ve lost a lot of sleep over you, lady!”

That earned me another hug.  “You’re very sweet,” she murmured before releasing me.  “And I, too, am relieved.  Life is good, no?”

“Life is good, yes.”  Na’weh’s rich, musical laugh drew both our gazes across the room to where she smiled down at Lu.  “I’d say Na’weh thinks so, too.  I’ve never seen her so easy.  She’s always been the ultra-serious type, you know what I mean?  Moody.  Pensive bordering on brooding.”

“She is happy,” Liriene shrugged.  “Before this all happened, she told me life had become for her like a song with only one note, endlessly played.  How can one make music with a single tone?  She felt her art dead and gray, drained of all joy and color.  Then Ke-Ling came like a prophet, his words breathing life into her soul, giving voice to the inarticulate cry of her heart.  When she finally embraced his words it was, she says, as if a heavy iron door had been thrown open—the prisoner, her soul, set at liberty.  For Na’weh everything is now new, beautiful, exciting.  She is free.  And her music soars.”

“Soars,” I repeated softly.  “I’d like to hear that.  Do you think we can convince her to sing for us tonight?”

“Convince?”  Liriene’s eyes danced.  “Please believe me when I say she waits only for the slightest hint of an invitation.”

“Well, she won’t have to wait long.  I’ll ask her as soon as Isidor gets here.  Did you know he was one of us?”

“Oh, oui.  Isidor and I have had many fine conversations during the past week.  It was he who helped me understand fully the truth I had merely begun to grasp,” she said.  “Also, he escorted Na’weh and me to see Rune Gaspar.”

“And Rune sent you to us,” I concluded with satisfaction.

“Just so.”

Eran strolled up, two long-stemmed wine glasses in hand.  “Ladies, may I offer you a glass of Pinot Noir?”

“Merci, mon ami.”  Liriene accepted a glass, sipped delicately.

I took the other glass as Eran hooked an arm around my waist.  He squeezed gently.  “Happy, darling?”

I grinned up at him.  “What do you think?”

He dropped a kiss on top of my head and smiled at Liriene.  “Red’s been in quite a lather about you, you know.”

“So she tells me.  Happily, she need worry no longer.  I am at last, as she says, awake.”

“Here’s to being awake,” I toasted, and Liriene followed suit, lifting her glass.  I didn’t so much drink as taste, because I had never had this particular wine before.  It was all black-cherry sweetness and warmth that streamed clear to my toes.  “Hey, that’s good!”

“Yes, well best go easy on it,” drawled Eran.  “It’s got a bit more punch than the wines you’re used to.”

I held up the glass, eying the lightly blushing contents.  “Really?”

“Na’weh was telling Lu and me the two of you achieved the happy state together,” Eran said to Liriene.  “Something to do with Ke-Ling’s message, her music, and a short story you both read shortly after the broadcast?”

Liriene nodded.  “Na’weh had been struggling for some time—beginning, I believe, several weeks before Ke-Ling left his extraordinary message—with a dim frustration, a vague sense of hopelessness.  Her music was ‘mired in stagnancy,’ she said.  Composing was quickly becoming for her a sad exercise in self-repetition.  Our friendship is an old one, so she came to me.  Often, we talked long into the night, trying together to find the key that would free her from the malaise.  We had all but decided she must see an Adjuster, when we received Ke-Ling’s bright word of hope—although, I confess, we did not recognize it as such at first.

“Our decision to seek help for Na’weh was forgotten in the shock over his death, the blank confusion aroused by his words.  How could he have done this thing?  How could he say what he had?  We were wrong?  About everything?  Non! We refused at first to believe.  We went to the assembly, grasped eagerly at the reassurances offered.  And yet, we could not put those outrageous words from our minds.  Again, we talked long into the nights.”

She paused for a sip of wine before continuing with a rueful smile, “We fought very hard against the truth, my friend and I.  Too hard.  To fight so desperately is necessary only when one engages in a losing battle, n’est-ce pas?  Still, to surrender seemed impossible … until I read ‘The Immortal’ in a very old book of short stories by a man named Jorge Luis Borges.  To tell you the truth, I cannot see how that book came to be included in the Colonial library.  The story I read would have been considered revolutionary, to say the least.  Perhaps my ancestor chose the author but paid little attention to the contents of that particular volume?”  She shrugged.  “However it came to be, the book was there.”

“What’s the story about?” I asked.

“It is about a great warrior who hears rumors of a stream whose waters impart immortality.  Naturally, he believes this a thing greatly to be desired, but once he finds the stream and achieves his goal, he learns a sad truth.  ‘Everything among the mortals,’ he says, ‘has the value of the irretrievable and the perilous.  Among the immortals, on the other hand, every act (and every thought) is the echo of others that preceded it in the past.’”

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” said Eran.

“I saw immediately that he was right,” continued Liriene.  “Without the danger that one will do a thing that cannot be undone or think a thought that might change everything, without at least the possibility of freedom from endless, dizzying repetition, life has no value.  The sad plight of the immortals described in Borges’s story was like gazing into a mirror.  Now Ke-Ling’s message, like an arrow, sped past my reservations and lodged in my heart!  Resistance was no longer possible; I knew he had been right.”  She paused.  “I shared the story with Na’weh.  After she read it, she wept.”

“I’ll bet.”  I was on the verge of tears just hearing about it.  “So where did Isidor come in?  He evidently filled in some blanks for them,” I explained for Eran’s benefit.

Liriene nodded.  “He certainly did, as you say, ‘fill in the blanks.’  Na’weh and I had reached only the most basic conclusions:  that life was not meant to continue indefinitely, a mind-numbing series of repetitious thoughts and actions.  We had concluded that each day should be looked on as une petite naissance … a small birth—a chance to make a new beginning in some aspect of life.  And so each day became for us most precious and exciting.  In this respect, we were in accord with Ke-Ling.  But in our excitement over the possibilities, we lost sight of the other half of his message.”

“Other half?” I asked.

“The bit about us being our own persons, rather than copies of someone else,” guessed Eran.

“Exactement! Isidor overheard us talking in the library one evening.  We did not hear him enter and were at first terrified, fearing we had been found out and would be reported, losing everything a few short days after we had found it.  Can you imagine our relief upon discovering he thought as we did?”  Eran didn’t answer as a troubled frown settled over his brow.

“I think we can imagine that,” I said, gently elbowing him in the side.  “Right?”

“What?  Oh, yes,” he muttered distractedly.

Liriene didn’t seem to notice he was no longer entirely with us, continuing blithely, “We talked only a while before he noted our failure to grasp this second important consideration.  Once reminded, we embraced it readily.”  Liriene smiled.  “Still we talk long into the night, but these are happy conversations.  The three of us, we are like … the explorers.”

“That’s great.  Isn’t that great, Eran?”  When his only answer was a grunt, I rolled my eyes for Liriene’s benefit and nudged him again.  “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“The library,” he murmured, still frowning.  His concerned gaze finally focused, shifting from Liriene’s face to mine.

“What about it?” I pressed.

“Let’s just say I’m a bit concerned about the lack of discretion demonstrated by our three new friends.”

I raised my eyebrows.  “Why?”

“Because that particular discussion wasn’t suited to the library.”

“The library gets very few visitors,” Liriene protested weakly.

Honesty compelled me to remind him, “Eran, we had that particular discussion in the library, remember?”

“Yes, but we were sitting near the portal and would have seen anyone entering.  More to the point, no one was stalking people like us back then.”  I gave Liriene an apologetic, he’s-got-me-there grimace.  “It’s a lovely, soothing place, Liriene,” he continued gently, “but hardly a secure enough environment under the circumstances.  As you just pointed out, Aduviri gained access without being detected and overheard everything you and Na’weh said.  You got off lucky that time.  What if it had been someone else?”

“Exactly what Rune Gaspar said when we bumped into him on our way here,” she admitted, blushing.  “I presume he exited his quarters precisely as we passed, because he had been waiting to speak to us.  He seemed most displeased about the first time we went to see him.”

Imagining what it must have been like to face Rune when he was most displeased, I winced sympathetically.

“The first time?” Eran asked.

“The first time.  When Isidor brought the two of us to him.”

“Together,” Eran surmised with a sigh.  She nodded dolefully.  “The three of you simply marched into Rune’s office?”  Another tiny nod. Eran raked his fingers through his hair.  “Terrific.”

I was getting a bad feeling but wasn’t sure why.  Glancing from one unhappy face to the other, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Think about it, Red.  Three individuals enter Rune’s office together.  What do you suppose people will make of that during these troubled times?”

Oh, boy.  “They’ll think someone’s being reported or turned in.”

“Precisely.”

“And they’ll want to know who, and what Rune is doing about it.  And since there will be a video record of the visit, he can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

“There you have it.”

Liriene brightened immediately.  “But, no!  It will not be like that at all!  He is cunning, that Rune Gaspar!  He did not allow us to incriminate ourselves or anyone else.  Instantly seizing the reins of the conversation, he said he would be happy to review the criteria for the type of behavior we should report.  We understood at once the fiery warning in his eyes and were content to meekly follow his lead.  He said we must let him know at once, should we hear anyone expressing these and these sentiments, and the way he spoke convinced us he completely grasped our situation.  Later, we received an invitation to mix at the quarters of Eran Symon.  Isidor explained why, of course.”  She lifted both hands, palms up.  “Et voilà!”

“Here you are,” smiled Eran, “no harm, no foul—thanks to some deft handling by our intelligence ace.  I trust you’ll be more careful in the future?” he teased lightly.

“Careful is not the word for what we will be,” Liriene replied emphatically.

“What will you be?” I asked.

“Vigilant!” she exclaimed.  “We will be vigilant, alert, and suspicious.  Like Rune.”

“That ought to do it,” I decided with a chuckle.  Eran and I glanced at one another.  Appreciation for the fact that Rune had saved the day … again … brought relieved smiles to our faces.

Unfortunately, both the smiles and the relief were short-lived.

Ω

© 2010, Kathy DiSanto, all rights reserved