and our friend,
and our friend, Mahgrurra.” Kaylen suddenly felt a burst of energy; he ran up to the great green dragon, and hugged its neck. “Please!” Symurall said, bemused. Kaylen released his grip and stepped back. “I have no idea how to thank you.” “I did what was necessary,” Symurall said. He smiled, and Jahsha stepped back from the long rows of teeth. “I did what Kahshiki would have asked of me. To recover that part of me… is enough.” The dragon lay its head down in the sand. “I need sleep. Such exertions are very tiring.” “Good idea,” said Kaylen, who lay next to the dragon. He fell asleep almost instantly. 44
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Sytherek rode a
Sytherek rode a thermal up and over Jozin’s Peak, leaving snowy dust devils in his wake. Home, Vallahnoka, and family beckoned, but curiosity drove him to see the progress of the kehklik nest. He smelled the pines, the new grass, lingering spring slush, the distant ocean – and the faint scent of kehklik reached him. Even in the starless darkness, he easily spied the white mounds near the tree line. The emerging army would have grown since his last visit; he was curious to see its composition and readiness. He found the unexpected. The army was gone. No burrowers, no infantry, no fliers. Just a few scouts wandering the periphery of the sleeping nest, on guard. Sytherek quickly surveyed the area, looking for signs of violence, and found none. Had the kehklik attacked before
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being ready? Or…
being ready? Or… had they been ready even sooner than he’d expected? Now he noticed the crushed plants leading north. He followed the path toward the sea. Far ahead, white and blue flickered and flashed. He could feel the energies unleashed in battle by another dragon. Symurall was fighting the kehklik. Saving the humans. Defying protocol. Curiosity struggled with anger as Sytherek gained altitude, careful to keep his distance, but drawing close enough to see the battle. Fliers swarmed around the large grounded ship, where humans shouted, screamed, and fought back. His brother roared over the dunes, a hellish fury of lightning. The smell of death and burnt flesh was strong. What was that? Sytherek moved a bit closer. Many kehklik fought viciously, some even launching futile attacks on the lightning- dragon;
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seat of the
seat of the Limo. The swarthy- skinned bayou baby hummed King Creole be- tween city highlights while he careened her through the rain, and to the cops. She appreciated his energy; it took her mind off reality. He was all manners and attention to detail. She smiled; thinking how Jimmy would have known this guy would suit her. MNo affront intended, maPam,N he said. MBut Jimmy was right, he told me to find the best lookinP woman in the airport. MNone taken.N She smiled into his rear view mirror. MIPm a fine-looking lady who enjoys hear- ing it from the right
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people.N
people.N Her eyes closed while she said it, fatigue. Sunny seemed to notice and toned himself down. She longed for a full bath, hot and loaded with bubbles L just her, Mozart and some B&B over ice L and the bubbles of course. — 166 — She drifted for forty-five minutes that expired like a blink. Then SunnyPs voice arrived like a stranger from nowhere. MWePre here, Ms Rachel. Down- town Precinct.N Her eyes opened slowly. MJust call me Rachel, Sunny.N MThe champ told me you was Ms Rachel and
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if my man Jimmy
if my man Jimmy says youPre Ms Rachel, youPre Ms Rachel.N She smiled at him in the mirror and he smiled back and moved quickly to her door.N His smile ran right into her eyes. MYou take your time Ms Rachel, IPll be waiting right here.N She smiled right back. MI should be fifteen minutes.N MYes maPam. You got yourself the most dedi- cated chaperone in the whole of New Orleans.N He slid his cap back on his head, looking as if hePd just bought the Mississippi from the French, and planned to give it to her. MNo doubt I do, Sunny.N Rachel looked at him, MNo doubt I do. And I could
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use a friend
use a friend right now.N She ran through the rain and into the less- than-state-of-the-art law enforcement building. MOne hundred and fifty years proudN the fading wood placard humbly asserted. She wondered if it was the building or the sign. Probably both. Once an impregnable military garrison, the station looked more like a badly fortified barrio. Crowds, dirt, and a sense of chaotic disorder greeted Rachel inside. She ran the usual police eyeball mentality. No letch like a cop, she — 167 — thought, as she worked Le ClercPs whereabouts out of the desk sergeant. Ten minutes of walking corridors,
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climbing stairs, and
climbing stairs, and retreating from dead ends finally brought her to the manPs office and Maurice Le Clerc had zero to give her. HePd checked RobertPs apartment, the recent John Does, and Lloyds, and came up with nothing L a little too much nothing for Rachel. She figured him out without much ef- fort. The man was a character beyond even Bar- neyPs description. Fat and shifty, he was a coffee slurper who talked through the side of his mouth. MLloyds didnPt expect him back. To their way of thinkinP, he left for San Diego right after the in- spection. Not expected to show for work in San Diego til Monday next.N Le Clerc had an obses- sion for
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shuffling papers
shuffling papers on his disaster desk while he talked. It gave the impression he had something to do, he just couldnPt seem to figure out what it was. MThey think nothinPs strange. DidnPt get the insurance documents before he left, but it happens.N Rachel watched the lust run from him while he talked, his eyes all over her L she half ex- pected him to start drooling like a dog. MMaybe finished late. Caught a flight. Fax Oem later. No big deal.N He stopped to rub coffee into his shirt. MLloyds figured to hear from him only if he got a problem somehow.N He offered her a chair, and she declined.
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I hate that.\
I hate that.\ Thomas didn t answer. She twisted the fan between her fingers, then extended it with a snap. \ Well?\ she asked softly. Thomas turned over a couple of options, then said, \ Send the order tonight. Tell them to start a breach in Bel Garde s curtain wall.\ She hesitated. He continued, \ There was a mistake. You thought Roland had signed the warrant, or was about to sign it. You sent the order yesterday.\ \ Ah.\ She bit her lip thoughtfully and the fan s motion slowed. \ I will order them to stop work immediately when I realize what an unfortunate mistake has been made. I will be properly apologetic. I will repair it with my own funds.\
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Thomas waited, watching
Thomas waited, watching her as she thought it over. A breach in a supporting section of the curtain wall would be difficult to repair, especially with gentle mismanagement, and could be made to buy them at least six months. It would also keep General Villon, who was away with his troop at the moment, from being compromised. \ It will do,\ Ravenna said. \ Elaine, find me that lapdesk, please.\ As the girl brought the flat wooden box with the ink bottle and pen set, Thomas noticed the crowd around Roland had cleared and one of the stewards was presenting Dr. Galen Dubell to the King. As the old sorcerer bowed deeply, Roland said, \ Come up here, Sir, and tell me how things are at Lodun.\ Roland had
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wanted to go
wanted to go to Lodun or the smaller university further off in Duncanny, but Ravenna had needed him here during her regency, and before that, Fulstan had refused to even let the boy make a progress there to see the place. It couldn t have hurt, Thomas thought as Ravenna s pen scratched across the parchment. He d have tired of it in a few months, but it would have made him happy. God knows, they might even have been able to teach him something. Roland resembled his father, with his curling brown hair and blue eyes, but his Chapter Three features were a good deal more delicate. The King s servants would never have let him out of his rooms 40 looking anything other than immaculate, but
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he still managed
he still managed to look incongruous in his cloth-of-gold slashed doublet, and the lace of his falling band was beginning to turn. Galen Dubell climbed the dais and took a seat on the stool a servant whisked into place for him. Roland asked a question and the sorcerer s answer made him laugh. Thomas looked over the crowd for Denzil and spotted him in deep conversation with a man he didn t recognize. Denzil s companion had dark hair and sharp features, and though he was dressed in the heavy brocades of court finery, he was obviously ill at ease. That might not be due to the lofty company: most of the city s monied class was here, bringing with them all the rivalries and old scores that wanted settling. But something about the way he was standing, the way he
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and the house
and the house was not old enough to make the latter theory plausible. From my survey of the flue on my arrival in the afternoon, I judged that this particular chimney had been little used. The smoke now rolled out in billows and drove us back from the hearth. I seized the tongs and poker and began readjusting the logs, without, however, any hope of correcting a difficulty that lay patently in the upper regions of the flue itself. The smoke, after a courageous effort to rise, encountered an obstruction of some sort and ebbed back upon the hearth and out into the room. My efforts to stop the trouble by shifting the logs were futile, as I expected them to be, and I retreated quickly, making, I fear, no very gallant appearance as I mopped my face and eyes.
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[Illustration: I seized
[Illustration: I seized the tongs and poker and began readjusting the logs.] \ Well,\ exclaimed Miss Hollister, who had rung for a servant to open the doors and windows, \ this is certainly most extraordinary. What solution do you offer, Mr. Ames?\ \ The matter requires investigation. I can t venture an opinion until I have made a thorough investigation. The night is perfectly quiet and the wind is hardly responsible. I think we had better abandon the room until I can solve this riddle in the morning.\ The prompt opening of the windows and doors caused the slow dispersion of the smoke, but the lights in the room still shone dimly as through a fog. \ It s beastly,\ ejaculated Wiggins, coughing. \ I did n t
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suppose Pepperton would
suppose Pepperton would put a flue like that into a house. He ought to be shot.\ \ It is fortunate,\ said Miss Hollister, \ that Mr. Ames is on the ground. He now has a case that will test his most acute powers of diagnosis.\ 26 The logs that had burned so brightly before the chimney choked still held their flames stubbornly, and I had advised against pouring water upon them, fearing to crack the brick and stonework. We were about to adjourn to the drawing-room; Miss Hollister and the others had in fact reached the door, leaving me alone before the hearth. Then, as I stood half-blinded watching the smoke pour out into the room, and more puzzled than I
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had ever been before
had ever been before in any of my employments, the chimney, with a deep intake of breath, began drawing the smoke upward again; the flames caught and spread with renewed ardor; and when the trio still loitering in the hall returned in answer to my exclamation of surprise, the flue had recovered its composure and was behaving in a sane and normal manner. There is, I imagine, nothing pertaining to the life of man (unless it be rival climates, motor-cars or pianos) that so inspires incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial criticism as wayward fireplaces. It is part of my business to listen respectfully to opinions, to receive with an appearance of credulity the theories of others; and those advanced in Miss Hollister s library were not below the average to which I was accustomed. \ A swallow undoubtedly
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fell into the
fell into the chimney-pot and then got itself out again,\ suggested Cecilia. \ The logs must have been wet. The sap had n t dried out yet,\ proposed Wiggins. \ The wood was as dry as tinder,\ averred Miss Hollister, not without irritation. \ And one swallow does not make a summer or a chimney smoke. It must have been a changing current of air. I was reading a book on ballooning the other day, and it is remarkable how the air currents change.\ \ That is quite possible, as the air cools rapidly after sunset at this season, and that is bound to have an effect on the quality and resistance of the atmosphere,\ I replied sagely. \ Perhaps,\ suggested Miss Hollister, with one of those flashes of
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it to advantage, eh!
it to advantage, eh! How close we steer to the fishing boats! and, pray tell me, why do fishermen in Norfolk wear such extraordinary hats! Here is another dyke. Can we sail down it?\ \ If we only drew four feet of water, we could go on to Ranworth Broad.\ V. \ Then, on my next cruise here, I will get a yacht that does not draw more than a wherry does. It is absurd to have such deep draught yachts where there are so many shallows. Let us row down.\ Ranworth Broad is a very pretty Broad, but grown up so that it is divided into two. The eastern half is 18 navigable to the village of Ranworth,
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but otherwise private,
but otherwise private, as is the other portion of the Broad. This is very strictly preserved, on account of the wild fowl which frequent it. It is a favourite fishing place, although permission has first to be obtained from the owner, who, however, cannot be expected to give leave indiscriminately. It is not worth while seeking to fish in private waters in this district, for other fish than pike, seeing that the free fishing in the rivers is as good as any one could wish for. From the eastern part of the Broad, a very pretty picture, with the church in the background, on a wooded height, is visible. [Picture: Horning Village] Then to Horning Ferry, where, as we approached, a horse and cart were being ferried across, and we had to lie to for a few minutes,
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until the huge
until the huge raft was safely across, and the chain lowered. The public-house at the ferry is a very comfortable one, with a nice sitting-room and garden in front, and is a capital place to make one s head-quarters. It is about nine miles drive from Norwich, and four from Wroxham railway station. A little further on is Horning village, a picturesque group of houses, straggling along the river bank, with a large windmill on the hill behind, making a good picture. Here our ears were greeted with the song which, for generations past, the small children of the village have chanted to passing yachts-- \ Ho! John Barleycorn: Ho! John Barleycorn, All day long I raise my song To old John Barleycorn.\ That is all. It is simple and effective, and extracts coins from too easily pleased
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given on our
given on our own – of ruining our lives – without the aid of some illness or sickness. Depression is not a disease. It’s a symptom. It is not the source of a problem, but the result of one. It’s not the egg. It’s the chicken. This man was not born with depression, as the handicapped are born with disfigurement. He did not “catch” depression, as the child catches a cold. He could not be vaccinated from it, as the explorer who travels abroad. There was nothing physically wrong with him, nor virally wrong with him. Doctors rightly observe that those suffering from depression have something of a chemical imbalance compared to those who do not.
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But this
But this overlooks the reality that the body follows the mind and vice versa; that in our minds we have the ability to actually and physically change the chemical balance of our bodies, and our bodies have the ability to change our thoughts. This isn’t some holistic argument, however. Close your eyes and quietly pretend that you are experiencing your greatest fear. Imagine you are in the hospital awaiting news on a loved one just shot horrifically. Imagine sitting there for what seems an eternity, waiting…waiting…glued to that chair with the horrid thoughts in your mind of what may happen, and the memories of what did happen, and always the annoyingly festive music playing from the waiting room speakers, gnawing slowly at your sanity. Sit
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and rock in
and rock in nervousness, as you would if it 11 | 12 were true. Imagine the doctor walks in, with a grim look on his face. Imagine he’s looking down, shaking his head as he tries to say that your loved one did not make it. Imagine that feeling, that moment, that instant when all your fears come to life; when your nightmare becomes your reality. They didn’t make it. They didn’t survive. You’ll never see them again. Imagine it. See it. Feel it. Do you feel it? Do you feel your heartbeat change? Do you feel it race, or stop? Do you feel the sweat in
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your hands, the
your hands, the shake in your legs, the tears welling in your eyes? If you cannot imagine it, then ask yourself instead what happens to you when you watch a scary movie. What happens to your nerves, and your emotions, and your body, when you watch that film, which you KNOW is nothing more than images on a screen? Do you see what you’ve done to your body and what your body has done to you? Do you see how you have used your imagination to change your physiology; how you were able to trick your entire self into believing what is only fiction; how you were able to actually release the chemicals that would be necessary in that very real scenario, as if this scenario were real, simply through
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many years to come
many years to come. Though dry and devoted to hairsplitting as orthodoxy no doubt was, it probably was not quite as lifeless as later generations represent it to have been. Kingo is often named \\ The Singer of Orthodoxy\\ , yet no one can read his soul-stirring hymns with their profound sense of sin and grace without feeling that he, at least, possessed a deeper knowledge of Christianity than a mere dogmatic training could give him. Kingo s last months at the university were disturbed by a new war with Sweden that for a while threatened the independent existence of the country, a threat which was averted only by the ceding of some of its finest provinces. During these stirring events, Kingo had to prepare for his final examinations which he passed with highest honors in the spring of 1658.
Thus with considerable
Thus with considerable deprivation and sacrifice, the humble weaver s son had attained his membership in the academic world, an unusual accomplishment for a man of his standing in those days. His good parents had reason to be proud of their promising and well educated son who now, after his many years of study, returned Chapter Three 13 to the parental home. His stay there was short, however, for he obtained almost immediate employment as a private tutor, first with the family of Jørgen Sørensen, the overseer at Frederiksborg castle, and later, with the Baroness Lena Rud of Vedby Manor, a position which to an impecunious but ambitious young man like Kingo must have appeared especially desirable. Lena Rud belonged to what at that time
was one of
was one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country. Many of her relatives occupied neighboring estates, a circumstance which enabled Kingo to become personally acquainted with a number of them; and with one of them, the worthy Karsten Atke, he soon formed a close and lasting friendship. He also appears to have made a very favorable impression upon his influential patrons and, despite his subordinate position, to have become something of a social leader, especially among the younger members of the group. Meanwhile the country once again had been plunged into a desperate struggle. The Swedish king, Gustav X, soon repented of the peace he had made when the whole country was apparently at his mercy, and renewed the war in the hope of affixing the Danish crown to his own. This hope vanished in the desperate
white and pale
white and pale grey. Large black birds fluttered up 29 and away as the dragon slowly circled. He finally perched on a flat piece of granite that angled up from one side of the ruin. “Hello, my love,” Symurall said. He knew there was no life beneath the rocks – his people had searched and dug and pawed through the rubble, in a vain hope of finding his beloved Kahshiki. Even though they could not feel her presence, they had tried, until Symurall himself had finally ended the search. Now only he and Kyazura came here; other dragons avoided the area, unwilling to face a reminder of their potential mortality. “Humans have come again,” Symurall said, in
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a soft voice
a soft voice he only used in this one place. “Cast on our shores by a disaster. Helpless.” He paused, and watched the clouds for a moment. “I am going to Sanctagora, to a gathering, to decide the fate of these newcomers. I wish you were here to guide me. The hatred still runs deep, dear one. Very deep.” He stretched out his feelings, his senses, and sought Kahshiki, knowing that he would not find her, just as he hadn’t found her uncounted times before. But he had to try. Giving up was not in his nature. “I know you would tell me to let go of the hate,” he said. “I do not know if I can.” After a while, he curled up, and went to sleep in the graveyard of his hopes and dreams. trading forex
“Even with the
“Even with the weapons that louse was hiding, we’re in trouble,” Jahsha said. “I doubt most of these people have ever held a sword, let alone a crossbow.” “At least crossbows are simple,” Kaylen replied. “We can start training people tomorrow.” “We’ll have a panic as soon as we tell them about the kehklik.” “We can’t build a fort in secret.” They walked to a nearby fire. With the arrival of dusk, people were gathering to cook fish. For a time, Kaylen stopped worrying about pending battles, and enjoyed casual conversation with strangers. As the evening darkened, his disquiet grew with each friendly person he met. These weren’t soldiers or adventurers – they were shopkeepers, farmers, merchants, and even members of
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MThe financing is
MThe financing is in place. Re- turning to Houston today. No problems.N When his head moved just slightly, she read good news from the motion. MA second from Enrico. The staff in Detroit has been let go.N She knew somebody was dead. The smile inside the many creases of LuisP face confirmed her assumption. She knew him well as she paused before the final message. MFrom the Senator.N His eyes opened the tiniest bit. She could see the black pits of his iris. MHe needs to see you. Says itPs urgent.N His eyes closed before opening wider, a larger and darker hostility within them as they focused into the distance. It also told Lorraine Walton the message
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part of the morning
part of the morning was over. She stood up from the bed. The bathwater would be ready now. She leaned over and pulled back the covers as she picked his tiny, wrinkled frame into her arms. By the time she walked into the bath, his eyes had closed again. He always tended to drift back off to sleep while she bathed him. She bent and eased him gently into the heavily salted water. He liked it salted. He believed it would keep him afloat in case he was left alone. Luis Estaphan learned long ago you couldnPt be too careful. Three hours later Estaphan sat in his wheel- chair under a table awning,
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taking in the
taking in the view from the terrace. He wore a hat, sunglasses, and — 124 — was wrapped in a down comforter despite the hun- dred-degree heat of a Houston midday. He had real circulation problems. He had always insisted they came from his hardships as a child. The morning had passed smoothly for him, and he expected the senator at any moment. He hadnPt hesitated in having the meeting with the senator set up as soon as possible. As far as Estaphan was concerned he was still looking for an opportunity to teach some lessons the old fash- ioned way. He was not a man
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to be liked;
to be liked; he did- nPt want to be. He liked the power that came with fear. The trouble in El Salvador with International Salvage had provoked him. He was dying to give the idiot Hertzel Markovitz an education about re- spect, knowing your place L and the conse- quences of making problems for Luis Estaphan. He knew he was secretly hoping the meeting with the senator would be just that opportunity. To Estaphan, an urgent message translated into problem in his vocabulary, and anyone who worked for him solved problems. If they made problems, he didnPt need them L and his idea of firing someone had fairly permanent
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connota- tions. Luis Estaphan
connota- tions. Luis Estaphan was an old mobster, and very set in his ways. He hardly looked the part as he sat almost invisible beneath his protective ap- parel, only his chin, lips and a tiny span of fore- head discernible. To a passer-by, he could easily be a child wrapped up after being in the pool too long. If his physical presence was barely there, — 125 — the activity inside his head more than made up for the lack of body. HePd never made a mistake, chose to refer that stigma to people he put in charge of things. And this one belonged to his nephew Antonio, his heir of choice. Antonio
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was bright, but
was bright, but still young and by far not ready for the demands of the job. It had been AntonioPs recommendation to buy into the ailing salvage operation, mostly to get the sena- tor onside for political reasons. A frail snort ran up through his throat. All of them needed large holes through their heads just to keep air going to their brains. He snorted again, canPt get any good help any more L not like the old days. TheyPd all be better off as part of the foundation in an office tower. His small eyes moved across the extensive grounds of his estate. He wished he were thirty again. Things would be
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tempest raging, I
tempest raging, I could yet write that the end of the evening was as pleasant as the beginning, so great to me is the charm of the water. I slung my hammock, hoping that on the following day the sun would shine, the wind would blow, and the hours would pass as quickly as the boat sailed, and slept as sound as man may. It has happened that I have written a good deal about these waters--too much, some people say. One result has been that I have been pretty well overpowered with correspondence arising from persons making enquiries about the district, with a view to visiting it; therefore, when the publishers requested me to write a kind of CHAPTER I. 7 handbook
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or guide to
or guide to the Broads and Rivers, I thought it a good idea, in that enquirers might, by buying such a book, save themselves the trouble of writing to me, and getting necessarily short and inadequate replies. I am afraid, however, the guide-book style is rather beyond me, and I shall be most at home if I try to convey the requisite information by describing one of the numerous cruises in which I have sailed as guide to those friends who have trusted their holidays to my care, and I will select one lasting but a fortnight, during which time we covered most of the available ground. Before doing so, a few words, descriptive of the situation of these rivers and lakes, will not be amiss. From Yarmouth, looking inland, three main water-highways radiate. The chief is the Yare,
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flowing from the westward;
flowing from the westward; then comes the Bure, flowing from the north-westward, and having her large tributaries, the Ant and the Thurne, flowing from the northward. From the south-west come the clear waters of the Waveney. All these rivers are navigable for considerable distances, and on the Bure and its tributaries the greater number of the Broads are situate. These Broads are large shallow lakes, connected with the rivers, and are many of them navigable. Flat marshes follow the lines of the rivers, and while higher and well-wooded ground rises near the upper portions of the rivers, near the sea the country is perfectly flat, and vessels sailing on all three rivers are visible at the same time. The level of the marsh is frequently below that of the rivers, and at the outlet of each main drain is a
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\ They do.
\ They do. I m handy for that,\ Gambin muttered. \ This was for the Dowager Queen.\ The spy licked his lips. \ Was it?\ \ Was it?\ Lucas echoed. \ It was,\ Thomas said. He drew the rapier from the fine black leather of the scabbard and out of the corner of his eye saw Gambin shift nervously. The hilt was unadorned beyond the inherent elegance in the shapes of the half-shell guard and the blunt points of the quillions, and the metal was worn smooth from use. Thomas ran a finger down the flat of the narrow blade, apparently giving all his attention to the shallow dents and scratches it had collected. \ Who gave it to you?\ \ I m
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not saying I
not saying I had any package.\ Lucas pulled the packet of letters out of his rumpled doublet and dropped it on the table. Last night, after discovering that it was Gambin who had delivered the packet to one of Ravenna s gentlewomen, Thomas had given it to Lucas along with instructions to bring in the spy. Thomas held the rapier up and sighted along the blade. Despite last night s misadventures, it was still unbent. \ Where d this package come from, then?\ Gambin laughed nervously. \ There s no proof I had anything to do with that.\ Thomas looked up at him. \ A Queen s word is not good enough?\ he asked softly. \ That s dangerously close to treason.\ \ I... That s...\
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\ Who gave
\ Who gave it to you?\ Gambin made the mistake of changing defensive tactics. \ I can t tell you that.\ \ Can t ? Surely not can t, \ Lucas pointed out. \ Perhaps you mean shouldn t ? There is a distinct difference.\ \ I meant I don t know who it was; he had his man give it to me,\ Gambin protested. \ That s a pity.\ Thomas laid the rapier gently back on the table and stood up. \ You re no use to us, then, are you?\ Chapter Three \ So I ll be on my way, then.\ \ Yes, do that.\
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The spy hesitated,
The spy hesitated, started to speak, then made a sudden dash for the door. Thomas caught him as Gambin 28 faltered in the doorway at the sight of a group of guards dicing in the next room. He slung the spy around and slammed him face first onto the table. Lucas deftly rescued the wine bottle and moved it out of the way. Gambin yelped, the cry escalating into a scream as Thomas twisted the spy s arm upward at an unnatural angle. He said, \ Keep yelling. There s no one to hear you who gives a damn. Now I suggest you consider an answer.\ \ Look here, I... I ll find out who it is for you. I swear, he... I ve got friends
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Dale is disposed
Dale is disposed to be facetious, Mrs. St. Clair; you must not swear by everything she says.\ \ That is an evasive answer, and I am dying to know; tell me, dear Mrs. Dale, what it means?\ \ Which, annexation, or Mr. Buckingham?\ said her tormentor. \ Oh, both, of course,\ she said, breathlessly. \ Both; well, when I come to take a good look at him, Mrs. St. Clair, he looks important rather than severe, his reason is, he believes, the best part of Canada pines for annexation; comprenez vous?\ \ Oh, is that what you meant,\ she replied, with a relieved air, when, catching her son s eye, she said, with assumed carelessness, \ I do miss my men friends so much when they marry.\
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\ He is
\ He is as cold as ice,\ whispered Mr. Cobbe, who, though a man of birth and breeding, prides himself upon CHAPTER V. being a flirt; \ he is an icicle, I wonder you waste your warmth upon him.\ \ Nice man,\ she thought, \ and only the second time I ve met him; he must be in love with me, too, poor fellow,\ and, in an undertone, she says, \ That s the way all you men speak of each other, but he is only so before people.\ 51 \ You had better throw him over, an Irish heart is warmer than an American,\ he said, in his deep tones, into her ear.
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\ But the
\ But the poor fellow would break his heart,\ she whispered, her cheeks flushing; he, equally vain, continued: \ Not he, a successful speculation would console him; and I--and I would console you.\ \ Are you always so susceptible?\ she asked, turning her pretty enamelled face around to be admired. \ No, indeed; but a man doesn t meet as pretty a woman as you every day, as your mirror must tell you.\ \ How you gentlemen flatter,\ well aware that he is admiring her pretty hand and delicate wrist, as she holds aloft a bunch of transparent grapes. \ Not you,\ and for the moment he meant it; the particular she of the hour feasting on the nectar her soul loves, never dreaming
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that the next
that the next passable looking female in propinquity with him will be also steeped to the lips in the same food, \ not you,\ he said, with a fond look. \ Thank you,\ she said, prettily, and with the faith of her early teens, \ I must tell you a pretty compliment a gentleman paid me at the Kirmiss last season, he said I was a madrigal in Dresden china. \ \ Too cold, too cold,\ he said, thickly, managing to press her fingers as they rose from the table, ere she laid her hand on the arm of Mr. Smyth, to whom she had been allotted, but who never spoiled his dinner by giving beauty her natural food. On Mr. Dale declining to linger, leading his hostess back to
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her pretty drawing-room,
her pretty drawing-room, she said in his ear: \ You have dubbed me queen of Holmnest, therefore must obey when I bid you back to the dining-room for a smoke.\ CHAPTER VI. CHAPTER VI. COFFEE AND CHIT-CHAT. \ What a lovely little home you have, Mrs. Gower,\ said her friend, Mrs. Smyth, seating herself near her 52 hostess, the pale blue plush of the padded chair contrasting well with her fair hair, pink cheeks and pretty grey eyes. \ That chair becomes you at all events, dear,\ said her hostess, seeing that a maid deftly passed coffee bright as decanted wine, afterwards small bouquets of beautiful pansies and clematis among her guests, from huge
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glass and Japanese bowls. \
glass and Japanese bowls. \ I could scarcely believe Will, when he wrote me of your good fortune, you know, the children and I were at Muskoka.\ \ Yes, I knew you would be glad. I bought this pretty little place the week you left, it seemed after years of waiting, my money (what is left of it) all came right in a day; you do not know how glad I am to at last see you in a home of my own--and in a chair pretty enough to become you, dear,\ she added more brightly. \ Oh, you always make the most of small kindnesses shown you, we were only too glad to have you.\ \ Be that as it may, I shall always remember the bright hours with yourselves
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for the excellent
for the excellent reason that this shop is the seventh in numerical progression from Fifth Avenue.\ \ You were not guided by any feeling of interest, then, but rather by superstition?\ \ That remark is unworthy of a man of your apparent intelligence. I was born on the seventh of November, and all the great events of my life have occurred on the seventh of the month. If you were to suggest that I am of an adventurous or romantic nature, I should readily acquiesce; but the sevens in my life have been so potent an influence in all my affairs that my belief in that numeral has become almost a religious faith; and if you have been a reader of Scripture you will understand that one does not become a pagan in ascribing to seven all
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manner of subtle
manner of subtle influences.\ I was relieved to find that she accepted the tea and sandwiches the waitress had brought without parley. It is with shame I confess that in the first moments of my encounter I believed her capable of quarreling with a waitress; but she thanked the girl pleasantly, lifting her head with a smile that illumined her face attractively. Her demand for a cocktail had not been wholly convincing as to her sincerity, and I wondered whether she were not playing a part of some kind. She suggested pleasant and wholesome things--tiny gardens with neat borders of box and primly-ordered beds of spicy, old-fashioned pinks before the day of carnations, and the verbenas, heliotrope, and honeysuckle we associate with our grandmothers taste in floriculture. Or perhaps I strike nearer the gold with an intimation
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of a sunny
of a sunny window-ledge, banked neatly and not too abundantly in geraniums. In any event the impression was wholly agreeable. I had to do with a lady and a lady of no mean degree. The marks of breeding were upon her, and she spoke with that quiet authority that is the despair of the vain and vulgar. Her features were small and delicate; her ringless hands were perfectly formed, and both face and hands belied the age to which she had so frankly confessed. She was more than twice my age, and there was not the slightest reason why she should not address me if it pleased her to do so; and her obsession as to the potency of the numeral seven was not in itself proof of an ill-balanced mind. I recalled that my own mother had, throughout her
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life, imputed all
life, imputed all manner of occult powers and influences to the number thirteen, and I have myself always been averse to walking beneath a ladder. Musing thus, I reached the conclusion that this encounter was very likely the sort of thing that happened to patrons of the Asolando. My time has, however, a certain value, and I began to wonder just how I should escape. I was about to excuse myself when my companion suddenly put down her cup and addressed me with a directness that seemed habitual in her. \ I have formed an excellent opinion of your bringing up from the manner in which you have suffered my 11 advances, if I may so call them. You act and speak like a gentleman of education.
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I imagine from
I imagine from your being in this strange place that you may be a water-colorist or a designer of l art-nouveau wall-papers, though I trust for your own sake that I am mistaken. Or it may be that you are a magazine poet, though when I tell you that I read no poets but Isaiah and Walt Whitman, you will understand that mere verse does not attract me. All this\ --and she indicated the mottoes on the wall with a slight movement of the head--\ is the sheerest rubbish, a form of disease. Will you kindly tell me the nature of your occupation?\ I produced one of my professional cards. +-----------------------------+ | | | ARNOLD AMES | | | | CONSULTANT IN CHIMNEYS | | Suite 92, Landon Building | | | +-----------------------------+ She
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pulse as each
pulse as each moment of being changes at the speed of light. This also means, then, that gravity occurs at the speed of light. - Daku is the Primary Rune of gravity, because he produces the power surge we call the Power of Light, which causes a synthesis of Sound and Light which results in the E.M. Pulse responsible for the production of magnetism. - Kánkennu is the impetus for energy’s origin, setting cycles into play, and providing Daku with his impetus. - Urur organizes these cycles, providing the cyclic power of Transformation which results from the synchronization of the power surge and the E.M. pulse. This is a transformation of magnetic induction, the flux of time, Sound, and Light in gravity. Ánsur, of course, plays his role, as noted above. The controlled energetic impetus behind the cycles
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of creation is
of creation is Kánkennu - . Although Feyhju is the power behind all movement, Kánkennu provides constant transformation and regeneration, as the 7th Runic Light, which is green. The cycles of creation involve the expansion and contraction cycles of the sun, as Light and Sound quanta are sent forth to effectuate the perpetual cycle of creation, evolution, degeneration, and rebirth. Kánkennu embodies controlled energy, and therefore, provides a controlled energetic impetus, as an extension of the “All.” He controls the sun in our solar system as a microcosm, as well as the larger microcosm of the Galaxies. The macrocosm, of course, is the “All,” itself. The transformative and regenerative aspects of Kánkennu provide an impetus which maintains the cyclic processes that are initiated by Jara in the universe. Specifically, all cyclic processes depend on gravitational fields, density of celestial bodies, and the efficiency
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of E.M. fields-all
of E.M. fields-all of which require transformation and regeneration. Perfect unity involves an identifiable whole, united, with all the required elements, qualities and characteristics for promoting the purposes of those sharing identity, consciousness, and uniqueness. This is what the universal force of Vunjo is all about. She is the mother of “Unified Consciousness,” constituting a oneness of perception; or awareness of something shared by a group. The “oneness of all creation” means that we are all one in the “All.” It also refers to the fact that we are all interconnected by the Sound Matrix, with Light manifesting space between objects. On the other hand, we all have personal identity in accordance with our particular vibratory harmony to the Sound current. Personal identity establishes personal characteristics, which manifest in a given nature, and finally result in the experiences that accompany the actions
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that are natural
that are natural to the individual. Those with similar vibratory harmonies to the Sound Current, naturally share characteristics and perceptions in common. They constitute, then, specific groups. Vunjo is the mother of diversity in the universe, and although we constitute a unified whole in one respect, she maintains the diversity we see in the world. Birds, for instance, constitute a group, but consist of various groups, or species which do not attempt to mate, nor do they even share the same trees. This is what the natural creative force of Vunjo is all about. She establishes unity, forming the “whole;” while its oneness is unique in identity and consciousness, to a specified group. There exists a vaporous light between all elements, manifested bodies, and even between earth, air, fire and water, where energetic exchanges occur. Opposite but equal reactions set up the process
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his boat, and
his boat, and don t catch small fish and litter his decks with them, leaving them for him to clean up after you. [Picture: A pool in Burlingham Broad] Don t moor outside another yacht without the permission of its owner. Ladies, please don t gather armfuls of flowers, berries, and grasses which, when faded, you leave in the boat or yacht for the unfortunate skipper to clear up. Don t play the piano in season and out of season (the reedbird s song is sweeter on the Broads); and don t turn out before eight o clock in the morning when other yachts are near. Observing all these simple maxims, any number of visitors will find plenty of room for their own enjoyment,
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without offence to
without offence to anyone. [Picture: View of Sailing boats and Yachts] 5 I. I. THE \ BROAD\ DISTRICT. [Picture: Decorative drop capital] It is somewhat difficult to analyse the charm which the \ Broad\ District of 6 Norfolk and Suffolk has for those who have once made its acquaintance in the only way in which an intimate knowledge of it can be gained. In a journey through it by rail, you see nothing but its flatness; walk along its roads, you see the dullest side of it; but take to its water-highways, and the glamour of it steals over you, if you have aught of the love of nature, the angler,
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or the artist
or the artist in you. One reason may be that the rivers are highways. From them you view things as from a different standpoint; along them flows a current of life differing from that on either rail or road: the wind is your servant, sometimes your master; there is an uncertainty in the issue of the day s proceedings, which to an idle holidaymaker is most delightful, and the slowly-moving water is more like a living companion than any other inanimate thing can be. Houses are few and far between. Oftentimes within the circle of your sight there is neither house nor man visible. A grey church tower, a windmill, or the dark-brown sail of a wherry in the distance breaks the sense of utter loneliness, but the scene is wild enough to enchain the imagination of many. Long miles
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of sinuous gleaming
of sinuous gleaming river, marshes gay with innumerable flowering plants, wide sheets of water bordered with swaying reeds, yachts or wherries, boats, fish, fowl, and rare birds and plants, and exquisite little bits to paint and sketch--these are the elements out of which a pleasant holiday may be made. I wrote these lines whilst at anchor on Salhouse Little Broad. The evening was most still and placid, and the boat lay motionless among the lily leaves which covered the water around. The white lilies had so closed their petals that but the faintest morsels of white peeped out; but the yellow, which were most numerous, did not close so completely, and the dark interspaces of water were thickly starred with the golden globes. Beyond the lily leaves was a belt of tall reeds, swayed only by the birds which have their
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had a coat
had a coat with large brass buttons, and a wig that one could see was a real wig. Every morning there came an old fellow to him who put his rooms in order, and went on errands; otherwise, the old man in the plush breeches was quite alone in the old house. Now and then he came to the window and looked out, and the little boy nodded to him, and the old man nodded again, and so they became acquaintances, and then they were friends, although they had never spoken to each other,--but that made no difference. The little boy heard his parents say, \ The old man opposite is very well off, but he is so very, very lonely!\ The Sunday following, the little boy took something, and wrapped it up in a piece of paper, went down
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stairs, and stood in
stairs, and stood in the doorway; and when the man who went on errands came past, he said to him-- \ I say, master! will you give this to the old man over the way from me? I have two pewter soldiers--this is one of them, and he shall have it, for I know he is so very, very lonely.\ And the old errand man looked quite pleased, nodded, and took the pewter soldier over to the old house. Afterwards there came a message; it was to ask if the little boy himself had not a wish to come over and pay a visit; and so he got permission of his parents, and then went over to the old house. And the brass balls on the iron railings shone much brighter than ever; one would have
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thought they were polished
thought they were polished on account of the visit; and it was as if the carved-out trumpeters--for there were trumpeters, who stood in tulips, carved out on the door--blew with all their might, their cheeks appeared so much rounder than before. Yes, they blew--\ Trateratra! the little boy comes trateratra!\ --and then the door opened. The whole passage was hung with portraits of knights in armor, and ladies in silken gowns; and the armor rattled, and the silken gowns rustled! And then there was a flight of stairs which went a good way upwards, and a little way downwards, and then one came on a balcony which was in a very dilapidated state, sure enough, with large holes and long crevices, but grass grew there and leaves out of them altogether, for the whole balcony outside, the yard, and the
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walls, were overgrown
walls, were overgrown with so much green stuff, that it looked like a garden; but it was only a balcony. Here stood old flower-pots with faces and asses ears, and the flowers grew just as they liked. One of the pots was quite overrun on all sides with pinks, that is to say, with the green part; shoot stood by shoot, and it said quite distinctly, \ The air has cherished me, the sun has kissed me, and promised me a little flower on Sunday!--a little flower on Sunday!\ And then they entered a chamber where the walls were covered, with hog s leather, and printed with gold flowers. \ The gilding decays, But hog s leather stays!\ said the walls.
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Stewart, the banknotes
Stewart, the banknotes in his hand, hastened thither, and found quite a crowd of people drawing money on traveler s checks and letters of credit. He noticed that they were all being paid in gold. They, too, it seemed, had heard rumors of war, had been advised to get gold; but most of them treated the rumors as a joke and were heeding the advice only because they needed gold to pay their bills. Even if there was war, they told each other, it could not affect them. At most, it would only add a spice of excitement and adventure to the remainder of their European tour; what they most feared was that they would not be permitted to see any of the fighting! A few of the more timid shamefacedly confessed that they were getting ready to turn
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homeward, but by
homeward, but by far the greater number proclaimed the fact that they had made up their minds not to alter their plans in any detail. So much Stewart gathered as he stood in line waiting his turn; then he was in front of the cashier s window. The cashier looked rather dubious when Stewart laid the banknotes down and asked for gold. \ I am carrying one of your letters of credit,\ Stewart explained, and produced it. \ I got these notes on it at Heidelberg just the other day. Now it seems they re no good.\ CHAPTER II 12 \ They are perfectly good,\ the cashier assured him; \ but some of the tradespeople, who are always suspicious and
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ready to take
ready to take alarm, are demanding gold. How long will you be in Germany?\ \ I go to Belgium to-night or to-morrow.\ \ Then you can use French gold,\ said the cashier, with visible relief. \ Will one hundred marks in German gold carry you through? Yes? I think I can arrange it on that basis;\ and when Stewart assented, counted out five twenty-mark pieces and twenty-four twenty-franc pieces. \ I think you are wise to leave Germany as soon as possible,\ he added, in a low tone, as Stewart gathered up this money and bestowed it about his person. \ We do not wish to alarm anyone, and we are not offering advice, but if war comes, Germany will not be a pleasant place for strangers.\ \ Is it
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the Coots; also
the Coots; also at p. 56, it is said that young Otters \ have been found in the Buzzards nests,\ a very likely circumstance with so fierce a bird, and one of which I have an impression I have heard in recent years. The Hen Harrier is now an extremely rare bird with us; the Marsh Harrier still occasionally nests in the Broads, and Montagu s Harrier now and then attempts to rear a brood, but even should the parents succeed in escaping it is very seldom they carry their young with them. Professor Newton has kindly favoured me with the following additional interesting note on this bird. \ The Marsh Harrier is certainly the Balbushardus of Turner (1544), which, though he says it is bigger and longer than the ordinary Buteo, has a white patch on the head and
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is generally of a
is generally of a dark brown (fuscus) colour, hunting the banks of rivers, pools, and marshes, living by the capture of Ducks, and the black birds which the English call Coots (Coutas). This he, Turner, has himself very often seen, and he describes its habits correctly; adding that it also takes Rabbits occasionally. Gesner, 1555, quotes Turner, but refers the Bald Buzzard to the Osprey (which he figures), and so the mistake began. Certainly Willughby s Bald Buzzard is the Osprey, but his book was not published when Browne wrote.\ Cranes[7] are often seen here in hard winters especially about the champian & feildie part it seems they have been more plentifull for in a bill of fare when the maior entertaind the duke of norfolk I meet with Cranes in a dish. [7] In the
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present day the
present day the Crane is only a rare straggler to this country generally at the seasons of its migration; that it was in times past abundant in suitable localities there is ample evidence; that it also bred in the fens of the Eastern Counties there is no reason to doubt, but very little direct evidence is forthcoming, therefore every fact bearing upon this point is of value. Had Sir Thomas Browne written with the intention of publishing his observations he would doubtless have told us much about this grand bird, which would have been of the greatest interest to modern ornithologists, but even the above brief remarks, as will be seen, are worthy of note. Notes and Letters on the Natural History of by Thomas Browne With regard to the occurrence of the Crane
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in the fens
in the fens of East Anglia we have the following evidence; its fossil remains have been found in the peat at Burwell, in Cambridgeshire, and in excavating the docks at 14 Lynn. Turner, in his \ Avium Historia,\ Coloniae, 1544, speaks of having seen young Cranes in this country, and as he passed fifteen years at Cambridge, it was probably in that neighbourhood that he met with them; then again there is the Act of Parliament, passed in 1534 (25th Hen. VIII. c. ii.), prohibiting the taking of their eggs (amongst those of other species) under a penalty of twenty pence. All this is well known, but being desirous to ascertain whether any reference to the Crane was to be found in the records of the Corporation of Norwich, Mr. J. C. Tingey, F.S.A., the
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I wish I’d
I wish I’d never even said it. A name, that’s what we really need out of this. I’m adamant about that. And let’s face it, who can name a leading industrialist off the top of their heads? Who can name any industrialist off the top of their heads? Frankly, I’m not even that sure what an industrialist is.” “But it won’t take us long to find out the name of one, surely,” Fenton pointed out. “Maybe for next time, sure.” Gus looked at his watch. “Or even for this time.” Gus stiffened. He smiled, but the smile was forced. “Fent, I’m not that sure I’m with you. I’m starting to get confused. Do you dig the Browning option or don’t you?
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I’m starting to
I’m starting to sense you’re not that keen on it. I’m dog- tired here mate, so fuckin’ correct me if I’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. But I’m – I’m getting this vibe that you actually reckon it’s a pretty shithouse idea. And that ... Well, I’m a little bewildered by that, to be honest. To be honest, I thought he was a pretty good idea. I still do. But look, if you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it. I mean, Christ” – he reasonably spread his hands – “I’ve got no great stake in doing Browning. If you can think of someone better, fire away. Give us an alternative. And if it’s a halfway decent one, we’ll ratify the bastard and give Browning the flick. It makes no
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difference to me,
difference to me, mate. This thing’s bigger than any one person. All I ask is that we walk out of here with a name.” The other Maoists were getting sick of this. Fenton could feel them aching to leave, hating him with their eyes. Warren sat forward over his half-shut notebook, waiting for Gus’s go-ahead to close it the rest of the way. Fenton said, “How about ... I don’t know, somebody higher up. Someone in the University hierarchy?” “I go back to the name question, Fent. We need a fucking name.” “Oh I don’t know their names. But it wouldn’t be hard to find them out.” Gus breathed slowly in. He tilted his chin back, as if giving this suggest- 98
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ion some
ion some really serious and fair-minded thought. Then, with terrible finality, he shook his head. “Nah, them guys are all too old,” he quipped, trying to keep things nice and friendly. “They’d die of natural causes before we could sort out the fine print. So: we’ll stick with Browning, shall we? We’ll push through with him. And we can maybe look at one of those guys for next time round. Now, do you want that lift or not?” “Thereis one name I can think of,” Fenton said. Now he felt the junior Maoists looking at him in a new way: with an unseemly kind of pleasure, with a lust to see him take both barrels of Gus’s gathering wrath. It was an unwelcome sensation, finding yourself at the
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centre of something
centre of something you didn’t even want to be at the edge of. “Just,” he carefully added, “as an option.” “Option my arse,” Gus tensely replied. “Put it on the table, Fent. If it’s better than Browning we’ll ratify it. If it isn’t, then for God’s sake throw your weight behind Browning so we can all go home and get some sleep. You can’t say fairer than that.” Oh but you can, thought Fenton. You can say much fairer than that. You could say, for example, that nobody had to get liquidated at all. Couldn’t you? Or maybe such an outcome was too much to hope for now. Maybe the time for that discussion had come and gone. Maybe such
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shook hands
shook hands and rummaged through our mattress covers. “This thing here says it‟s a collar stay,” he said in his broad Massachusetts accent. He held up a card with a strange-looking contraption on it. It had two spring-operated points on arms that were connected just below the top, like a very shallow continuous H. “That doesn‟t look like what we just saw,” I replied and pulled out a card with two separate stays. “I think this is what we need. The other one has a picture of a tie on it, so I guess it‟s for use with ties.” We managed to find our things and put them on our uniforms. We checked each other out and ran out the door, seconds to spare. Down we ran to our spot on
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the edge of
the edge of the quadrangle, and we all formed up into three ranks, with some “help” from the sergeants. We were then ordered out to the same positions we had taken before noon meal. We were immediately sent back and ordered to yell on the way out. Then we were sent back again and told to yell louder this time. I had the luck of having Sergeant Gunn inspect my squad. His ever- active finger poked against name tags, belt buckles, and 4‟s as he went down the line. Once again, Mr Sinclair was standing in front of us. Mr Sardis pointed to Mr Sinclair‟s waist and then to his own. “Do you notice the difference, thetes?” Receiving nothing but silence, he added “Pop-off!” and we all yelled “Yes, sir” in unison. We had
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not been waiting
not been waiting to pop-off, we had simply been confused. Mr Sardis had Mr Sinclair turn his back to us and we saw how his shirt billowed out over his belt. He loosened his belt, grabbed the two sides of his shirt and pulled them out taught. Mr Sardis grabbed the right end from him, held it firmly in his right hand, and folded it back over his left hand. After Mr Sardis took his hand out from the fold, Mr Sinclair held that side down, and they repeated the procedure on the other side. Finally, Mr Sinclair synched his belt to reveal a tightly fitted shirt with two folds down the back, just like the black lines on the back of a
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wool dress gray
wool dress gray blouse. “That, thetes, is a shirt tuck.” We were all told to work in pairs and were led through the procedure. Of course, ours did not look as neat and crisp. After all, we had never done this before. Nonetheless, we were assailed with yells and insults. 25 Now that we were “properly dressed” (although it was evident from a great distance that we had a
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drowned.
drowned. The guy hadnPt gotten close to Bobby, but compared to Howie, Gomez rated high as a soul mate. He went to the front of the van and got a look at the ship, the only show in town, he mused to himself. The water, ankle deep there, felt soft and cool on his feet. Glancing at the tidewater be- tween himself and the ship, he moved forward slowly, the soft mud bottom of the Mississippi delta oozing under his uncertain footing. The shipPs silhouette stood in the backdrop of his vision. He ignored her, concentrated on feel- ing his movements, on avoiding whatever danger lurked in the deepening
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brown liquid, the
brown liquid, the living waters of New Orleans, a sad testament to progress. Gators werenPt into salt water, he hoped. His concern focused more on beer bottles and New Orleans sewage. Suction cupping foot by foot, he looked back to get his bearings from the night before and lined himself up with the van to get an idea where Gomez had disappeared to. Thinking for a brief second about waking Howie, he imagined Howie — 44 — ranting into oblivion about GomezPs whereabouts, and decided he didnPt need the help. Besides, the knee in the ribs didnPt rouse him, so concern
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for Gomez certainly wouldnPt.
for Gomez certainly wouldnPt. His progress slowed as he closed the distance to the ship, outpacing the receding tide line, as the water reached to his waist. With each step, the mud slid further up his leg. He was half way to the ship, and the water was to his stomach. His effort increased, but there was still no sign of Gomez. He stopped to rest, let himself sink into the mud, close enough to take a decent look at her L sizeable and silent, genuinely spent. He picked that up quickly. Rust ran everywhere, burnt-up paint peeled away from her steel as if a ton of stripper had rained
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She sipped her
She sipped her coffee, ignoring him. Alex had been a picky eater all his life. “I’m sorry, meat is so gross.” Her eyes flared wide. She did a mental ten-count and kept eating. Alex fussed with toast and butter and after the awkward silence, Kyla pursued idle chitchat—How’d you sleep? Like this break from studying? Then she left. The rest of the day was all good news. Namely, an earnest money note a couple with a three-year-old boy in tow signed. With such an embrace of good fortune, Kyla returned home and found Alex and Zoe in back. Alex slumped in an Adirondack chair, a vegetarian Diet Coke in hand. Zoe, on the porch with CD caliper earphones horseshoeing her neck. Alex placed the can on the broad
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chair arm. “I
chair arm. “I tell you guys, Chase and I celebrated our six-month anniversary before I left?” “Yeah, Chase, dreadlocks,” Kyla said, remembering a disheveled character from a hurried visit to Eugene months before. “Anniversary of what?” “Sex—what else?” Zoe tittered. Alex grinned with obvious satisfaction. “I’m concerned about you, Alex. I hope you’re keeping your priorities—uh—in mind.” “I can’t even think straight anymore. Ha, ha.” Alex drank more Coke and seemed to delight in Kyla’s awkward sensitivity. “Let’s not slide into homophobia, Mom.” Zoe slipped on the earphones and pressed PLAY on the Sony— she knew well this argument—and seemed ready to open the screen door and go in the house. Kyla gave Zoe no attention and ignored Alex’s
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victimhood baiting. “Priorities,
victimhood baiting. “Priorities, Alex. Priorities, two thousand a month keeps you in Eugene. So don’t joke around. We just don’t want to see you throw everything away.” Kyla studied Alex, looking for assent. She didn’t see any. All she saw was the characteristic squinch in Alex’s face, a telltale sign from almost toddler days that Alex was stuck in thought, couldn’t decide what to say. “We don’t care what you study,” Kyla continued. “We only want you to give yourself a future.” Alex started humming Elgar’s “Pomp and Circumstance.” He smirked, screwing up his face in silliness. Zoe stopped her CD and bent forward. “Sorry. I’d like to stay, but, Mom, I gotta get going, I have to be at Cydney’s tonight, remember? I have to
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get ready.” “Okay, have
get ready.” “Okay, have a good time,” Kyla said as if she had heard the plan before. The screen door spring creaked and Zoe left. Kyla restudied Alex. “I’m serious about this,” she said. “Sure, like that valedictorian bit, Give yo’self a future. People have been giving and giving me advice all my life.” “I told you, Alex, major in anything you want.” “But this pressure’s crazy. Thousands and thousands of dollars, wrap up that education, young man,” he said, doing his best to fake a basso profundo. “You’ve got thirty-six months.” Kyla looked away from Alex, as if she’d let him get over his peevish outburst. “The way you guys talk,” he continued in a soft voice, “it’s like paying off some car loan. I need a timeout.”
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tonio moved after
tonio moved after his father died and his uncle, Luis, gave him an opportunity to come to Houston and learn the business first hand. Something An- tonioPs father would have never permitted when he was alive. It was convenient for Luis Estaphan as he never had a son of his own, and Antonio was — 33 — as close as he could get to keeping the business in the family. The senator, on the other hand, had let his law and political goals dictate his move to Austin. MHePs heard some disturbing things about this guy Hertzel Markovitz. About the company too.N Antonio looked for a reaction. MAnd since you brought this
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guy and his
guy and his company in, Luis thinks it only fitting you should take some responsibility for what goes on.N Antonio watched for reactions as he spoke. MWe put money into this Interna- tional Salvage because you represented Markovitz to us as a legitimate business. We donPt need heat for peanuts.N MWhat kind of things?N The senator was still at the beginning of the conversation. MWhy talk to me about it?N MEl Salvador.N MEl Salvador?N Antonio noticed his supposed puzzlement with the answer, pursued it. MScamming the old man isnPt a good idea.N Antonio looked ahead at the ap- proaching skyline. MHoustonPs got one of the most impressive skylines in the world, donPt you think?N MWhat the fuckPs going
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on, Antonio?
on, Antonio? WePve known each other a long time, so knock off the bullshit!N The senator stared until Antonio gave him eye contact. MGive it to me straight!N MIf you donPt know about it, you got nothing to worry about.N Antonio rolled down the limo par- tition and said something in Spanish to the driver. MI hope youPre clean. Remember, IPm the one who brought you in originally. ItPs not going to look — 34 — good on me if youPre part of it.N MI got no idea what youPre talking about.N The senatorPs breathing got a little labored, and not from his weight. MEl Salvador. International Sal- vage did a job there a couple of months
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a glass of
a glass of water and a dishcloth in the kitchen, right now.” Liam, confused to see this, at first froze, then dashed to the kitchen. Rob held his mom’s delicate head up a few inches in one hand, the other hand feeling for her pulse at the wrist. Liam noisily ran water in the kitchen. Rob’s eyes looked over his mom’s blouse, saw that it heaved up and down in shallow takes. Her pulse, a bit speeded up, was hard to find. But she would be okay. Laura’s eyelids parted. Her eyes steadied. Rob grabbed the dishcloth from Liam, dipped it in the water. He folded and placed the towel on her forehead as if the wet coolness would calm and draw out whatever had gripped his mom
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to faint away. “Here,
to faint away. “Here, leave this glass, go get another, she might want a drink.” Laura saw shock, worry in her son’s eyes. “Don’t try to talk,” he said. “Just keep resting. You can sit up in a minute.” Rob kept a thumb to her slight wrist. Laura felt strength in the legs she knew could stand, but this was embarrassing. Looking at Rob, she realized nobody could do a thing. If she told them, it would upset everyone and change nothing. No, she would keep it private. They’d imagine more suffering than was there. It was not that bad, really. Just these faints and then as Dr. Koppel speculated, maybe one fainting spell from which she would not get up.
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No, she would
No, she would not tell Rob. No matter how much he asked. “You feeling better?” he said. “Oh, I’m coming around, thanks.” Laura tried sitting up. Rob took her hands, helped her to her feet. She trudged to the sofa and sat down. Liam had ready a glass of water. “Grandma, are you okay? The way you fell looked kinda scary.” “The doctor can’t say what it is. Comes and goes.” “You should go back and have more tests,” Rob said. “This been happening lately?” “No, can’t even remember the last one.” Laura winced: She’d again misled Rob and Liam. She turned to her grandson, remembering his splendid acting got her up to embrace him before the faint. “Liam, you do have talent. That you do.” “It
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comes pretty naturally,”
comes pretty naturally,” he said. “Like his grandma,” Rob added. They talked about Liam and his future acting career and Liam seemed to bask in the attention. Laura liked talking shop after being away from teaching. “Mother,” Rob said, when talk lulled. “Let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I still think you should see your doctor pronto. That was a quick fall you took and if it had been on a harder surface—” He wrinkled his forehead. “I don’t know.” “Now, don’t worry. I’ve got an appointment next month. But you really want to do something for me, I need you to come by the house next week, check things over. I’d ask Cath, but you know how distracted she gets.” “You’re gone
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