sensation of loss and terror Martin realized his last defenseawareness of circumstancewas fading. He would not even know what had happened; all memory and all judgment fleeing in the face of this universal solvent. One last word hung like a custom neon sign and flashed several times before winking out. Underestimate
Margery walked between the still forms of Burke and Neuman, fastidiously examining the connections, the displays. She noticed that a massive jootz across channels had occurred and wondered what the team was up to. Out of curiosity, she charted the extent of the jootz and realized that the probe locus had been moved out of the hypothalamus completely, to the farthest radius of her premapped points in the hippocampus. Puzzled, she rested her chin in one palm and tried to calculate the advantage of being so far from the prechosen channels. Had Burke come across something unusual? He was much closer to deep dream channelsthose associated with fixing of final permanent memory and reduction of temporary data storage-than he was to the channels commonly associated with the Country. Erwin, look at this. Erwin walked up beside her. He calmly looked over the display and lifted an eyebrow. Then be called up Goldsmiths neural activity chart and pointed to a spike and a fold. Theres something going on in deep dreams, he said. Hes in neutral sleep. Memory fix dreams dont happen in neutral sleep. Not normal mf dreams, Erwin said. Should we contact them and find out what theyre up to? Erwin considered this possibility, frowned and shook his head. They have ripcords. Their traces are close to normal. Spike and fold might signify surprise but maybe thats good; maybe theyre finding something significant. Let them wander for a while. Im sure Burke knows what bes doing. Margery shook her bead but finally agreed; Burke had been up Country many times.
The New Marassa They had been born an age ago twin brothers one white one black children of the great white father Sir who brought them up in the land of GuinUnder the Sea and who favored the white brother over the black, the black being favored by his mother Queen Erzulie, who lived far from Sir in a small home acrots the gulf. At low tide the twins often sailed across the gulf in a tiny shell boat of their own manufacture, their oarsman an ancient chimpanzee who told them stories of the refugees and the slaves, stories that broke their hearts but especially the heart of the black twin, whose name was Martin Emanuel. The white twins name was Devoted to Sir. He was the more feminine of the two in appearance; at times he grew breasts and sprouted long brown hair, to startle his brother, but this was a land of magic and change and anything might be expected. Both Sir and Erzulie told them they were gods and had the great responsibility of looking over all the citizens of GuinUnder the Sea. The twins carried Out this responsibility solemnly and carefully but could not always satisfy Sir, who would fly into a hideous rage when some aspect or another of the ceremonies was not observed properly or something else went wrong. When snow fell on GuinUnder the Sea and covered the towns to their rooftops, Sir would be reminded of his defeat and death in the old times and become terribly angry. When he was angry his white skin would darken like the mantle of a storm cloud until he was black as night, block as sin, black as iron black as sleep black as death. Sirs rage went beyond all bounds and he beat Martin Emanuel severely but only cuffed Devoted to Sir. Erzulie took Martin Emanuel in her arms and comforted him and said this would all soon be over. Your father is a strong and willful man, she told him. But you are a sensitive and intelligent child and you must learn how to placate him, how to make him love you. This was important when living in GuinUnder the Sea for Sir governed over all the land and had the power of life and death, happiness and unhappiness. | Then why cant he command Frost and Snow to go away? GuinUnder the Sea was a tropical land in the good seasons, mountainous and covered with thick forest through which Martin Emanuel and Devoted to Sir wandered at will when free of their duties. They climbed trees like monkeys, built fortresses in the high hills and filled them with cannons like a blacksmiths bag full of nails. They built large ships from the trees of the forest and then hurled them across the beaches into the bright azure sea. Frost and Snow white as ice white as the sun white as life white as a boil sailed these boats to far lands and filled them with dark and pitiful children of death, and sailed them to other lands to sell the children, and the boats returned to Guin their holds stinking with pestilence and sewage and decay. Martin Emanuel told the beautiful Devoted to Sir that Snow and Frost were ruining their lovely boats and they went to Erzulie to ask why this was allowed, and Erzulie told them a story, an important story that would complete their education and make them Marassa, the sacred twins. Never before, she began, in no other time and in no other place, Sir was a mighty king who ruled over all the lands, not just GuinSou Dleau (she used its other name). In those times Sir was black as ebony, black as a cave. But came Frost and Snow to these lands in mighty ships, carrying thunder and threats of wind and storm, and asked Sir if they might eat his people a few at a time, at immense profit to Sir. Sir saw the way of this and consented, saying, You may take all of my people some of the time, you may take some of my people all of the time but you must not take all of my people all of the time. Frost and Snow agreed to this and paid him with great mounds of gold which he turned over to his artisans. (Then it was also, Erzulie explained sadly, that Sir saw the females from the land of Frost and Snow and lusted after them; and Devoted to Sir was distressed but this was not the time to explain why.) Frost and Snow took some of the people away at first. These people never returned. They wailed on the beaches and shook their heavy black iron chains and lifted up their weeping squirming babies as the boats that the twins would make were drawn up | But that was after, wasnt it? but there was nothing Sir could do for he had his gold, and his name, and this was the way it was. After many years Frost and Snow returned to the lands of Sir and they told him, Our lands need more of your people, for many have died on the Island of High Mountains and many more have died to build great farms across the sea, and the need for your people is even greater. And Sir told them, I have sold you all I will. You may take some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time but you must not take all of the people all of the time. But Frost and Snow said, We have paid you our gold and there is enough of it for you forever, great mounds, thirty pieces. And they took more of Sirs people away forever to the lands across the sea. Sir was distressed for the gold was not nearly enough to buy the destruction of Frost and Snow, and he saw that very soon he would have no more people. He could do nothing against these enemies though he ruled all his world. The third time Frost and Snow came, there were so few people left that they told Sir, We need all of your people all of the time, and he replied, But that must not be. And they said, It is so, and we have paid you our gold. There is enough of it for you for ever, thirty pieces, but if you want more payment, then here is iron black as death. They clapped chains on Sir, and took him from his land, and took his wife the Queen (Erzulie wept), and shipped them over the seas to lands he did not know. But Sir carried his magic with him and worked it in secret. Even though wrapped in chains black as sleep he could do this magic, and he set himself free. When Sir was free he slaughtered and poisoned the people of Frost and Snow, and became ruler of the Island of High Mountains. But through treachery too sad to tell, Sir was betrayed and brought down and he died deep in a prison ruled by Frost and Snow, deep in a cell black as night, black as soot. When he died he became white as ice himself. This was the eternal mark of his defeat and it burned deep into his soul. He went to the Land of the Dead, the Land Under the Sea (Sou Dleau, she said softly). As a spirit he whispered into the ears of those of his people who still lived but their chains were strong. His rage grew greater. Finally, on the Island of High Mountains his people rose up and broke their chains and poisoned their masters and slaughtered their oppressors, and Sir said, That is where Guinthe Homeland truly is and shall be reborn. Then came a change of heart in Frost and Snow. They saw the evil of what they had done and they broke the iron chains and set the rest of Sirs people free. But Sirs people were black as sin, black as death and Frost and Snow feared and hated them for there is nothing more contemptible than someone whom you have conquered. What about the Island of High Mountains? So the people of Sir languished, their memories gone, and they were as the dead. They had forgotten about Sir and about Guintheir home. They took on the memories of their former masters and visited their masters altars and sacrificed their children to the gods of Frost and Snow, and soon in their dreams they tossed and turned and murmured, We are not black as iron we are white as sperm, inside. For their masters had violated them in body as well as mind. But on the Island of High Mountains | Ah. the spirit of Sir returned, and called the place Guin&, and though he was white as marble with hair gray as granite, he was strong and he used the knowledge of Frost and Snow to make this place into the paradise it now is. He made many children with his Queen but their favorites are the twins who sit before me now. Erzulie finished her story and looked with motherly satisfaction on Martin Emanuel and with sadness upon the white, feminine Devoted to Sir. But Devoted to Sir was not happy with this story. Mother, he said, why does not Sir visit Martin Emanuel my brother in his sleep and do to him what he does to me? Erzulie hid her face with shame, for she could not stop Sir from visiting the bed of her own son. So it must be, she said, to keep our marriage together: that I turn my bead away and you bear up under him. You must do your duty. Then Erzulie left the twins, now called Maro,ssa and very sacred, alone on the beach to build their wonderful boats. That night Sir came to the bedroom of Devoted to Sir and again bad his way with his own child. After he left, Devoted to Sir crept into the room of Martin Emanuel and said, I have bad enough. I must die now to forget the shame. But Martin Emanuel said, No, it is I who must die. I will become hollow and you will fill me up. We will both have a black skin but you, white and feminine, will be inside. You must take one thing from me before I die. And what is that, brother? Devoted to Sir asked. You must take my knowledge of song and sing our dreams and our histories and sorrows. I will do that, my brother, Devoted to Sir said. So Martin Emanuel kissed his twin, giving him his song, and died. His body became hollow like the black stump of a dead tree. His brother climbed inside and wrapped the skin around himself and sealed it up so that no one might know what had happened. The next night Sir went to the bedroom of Devoted to Sir and found it empty. He then went to the bedroom of Martin Emanuel and bellowed his wrath. Where is your brother? I do not know, the new singular Marassa said. But you must. You are twins. I prefer the other but if the other refuses me then I will have you. The singular Marassa felt an uncontrollable rage above and beyond anything even Sir was capable of. He leaped from the bed and cried out, I will take your knife, my father, your very own broadbladed long thick steel knife, white as silver, from the scabbard on your belt, and I will slay you! Remember, I have died before, and I am your father who made you, Sir said, but he shrank before the Marassa with his guilt and fear. So much smaller and weaker became Sir at the memory of his sins that the Marassa was able to grab him from behind, take the huge steel knife and cut his throat from ear to ear. Still, Sir could not die. He fell to the ground and thick black blood poured from him, making a lake, then a river, the river flowing to the sea, darkening the sea, and the sea caused the clouds to rise thick like ravens and the clouds wept black as rain. Maras.sa the singular saw what he had done and threw the knife as far as he could across the seas. Marassa then ran from the grief of the people of GuinSou Dleau and from the lamentation of his mother Erzulie. Yet wherever Marassa went the voice of Sir followed, saying, My crime was vile but yours is more horrible still. You cannot kill me. I made you. I am here forever, White as time.
| My God, I felt it. It raped me. | Carol, Im here. | Get me away. | Can you see your toolkit? | I cant see anything. Martin? | Im here. | It raped me, Martin. | I know. I was there, I think... | I was a child, lying in bed, and it came into the dark room and... All right. Can you see any part of the toolkit, the ripcord? | I cant see anything. | I think I can see something. Im going to try for it. | Martin, I cant feel you. | Ive got something. Its not the ripcord. Its my toolkit. Can you see yours? | I see something red. | Thats it. Look at it. Concentrate. | Oh, God, I hurt. I feel like Im bleeding. Martin, is that my blood, the red? | Concentrate, Carol. I think I can see you. Your hand. | I see the toolkit. | Im going to take over both kits. |m moving us back to the previous locus, the one before the shadow took us. | What? Not there. I wont go through this again. | I dont have a ripcord. | Why not? Martin, its playing with us! Why dont they see something is wrong outside? | I dont know. Im moving us now. Martin assembled himself on a dark city street. His bare feet crunched dirty snow. Crowds of masked shadows moved in sluggish streams around him. He cringed from them but they all seemed intent on other missions. None of them wasted attention on him. Carols image was a pale pink fog beside him. He concentrated on her, trying to resolve the shape. She formed beside him, naked. With a start he realized he was naked as well. She wrapped her arms around her breasts and regarded him with a narrow, miserable expression. | Please take us out. | Ill try. I can swing us to an uncharted locus. That should trigger alarms. Margery and Erwin will take us out... Or send in David and Karl. | They shouldnt send anybody else! Somethings gone wrong. | Ill say. But we seem to be in true Country now. Carol looked at the oblivious shadows surrounding them. There were only smudges with ceramic masks; no other types of character. She tried to shrink into herself and Martin reached out to her. Her flesh felt warm and real beneath his fingers. | I can pick up what youre feeling, he said. Were not lost to each other. She gave him a withering glare that startled him. | Why cant you take us out? I Pull down your toolkit. Maybe you can do it, he said, angry at her tone. She pulled down a red box and grabbed for the visible ripcord but it came away in her hand. The box became a blank red cube without displays or controls. Martin pulled down his own toolkit and saw the same useless red cube. | It will kiU us, Carol said. It will eat us. Martin sensed her fear like a cold sun beside him. He hugged himself, trying to find his true substance. His flesh felt real. Her pain felt real. | Am I bleeding? she asked. He saw tears on her cheeks. He glanced between her thighs. | No. No blood. It wasnt you being raped. | Who was it, then? | I dont know. A child, I think. | His father raped him? Is that what we saw? | It was too mixed. Dreamlike. Memories and fairy tales. She shuddered and leaned her head back. | Im trying to keep myself together, Martin. Please be patient. She closed her eyes and dropped her arms. Clothes appeared on her image, first a slip, then a dress and finally a formal longsuit, dark blue and elegant. Martin imagined himself in a similar but masculine longsuit and felt the clothes form on his own image. | Thats better, she said. Her fear decreased markedly. Theyre ignoring us, arent they? She pointed to the masked shadows. | For now. He looked around this new version of the city. The buildings rising high on both sides of the crowded street were still skyscrapers, but ancient, made of stone and brick rather than glass and steel. Their size was anomalous. They seemed to ascend thousands of feet, meeting at a vanishing point high overhead. Martin smelled smoke and gasoline fumes; things he had not smelled since he was a child. Its oppressive, Carol said. What a horrible place to be trapped. | Better than where we were before. Carol stepped closer to him. She had her fear and disgust under control but just barely. Her emotions hung around her acid and sour like a bitter fog. He was not sure what his own emotions were. Mixed with his own fear was a professional fascination. Carol felt this coming from him and tweaked his nose sharply, viciously with her fingers. | Watch yourself, she said. Dont get sucked in. | Where are we? he asked. In the same city, but a different stage? | It feels the same to me. The decor is different. Maybe its going to show something else to usreally show us what its capable of. | It shouldnt know that were here. It should have no idea what we are. | It knows were here. It doesnt like us being here, but its going to show us a thing or twoexpress itself. | Im not even sure what we mean by saying it, Martin complained. | Somethings in charge here, Carol said. It may be the representative of the primary personality or it may he something else... The model of Colonel Sir you mentioned on the outside. What attacked me was more than a wisp of nightmare. | We may have tuned in to something drawn from Goldsmiths childhood, Martin said. Id still like to find a figure we can talk tosome representative. Im amazed we havent found signs of the primary personality. Where is it? | The last time we tried to look something resented it. Are you sure we should try again? | I dont know what else to do, Martin said. The full impact of that admission stunned him for a moment. I dont know what we are in relation to this.., whether were exterior or interior, players or observers. But I feel awkward and exposed just standing here talking... Lets conjure up a guide, then. Use whatever power we have. Make a few constructive suggestions. | Im not sure what you mean, Martin said. | Lets agree on its form and bring something up out of the ground. A guide. He turned and looked over the shadow figures still flowing around them like a dark river around rocks. | Im just not sure what we have left to lose... Carol shivered. | If I dont do something, Im going to lose it all. We should pick out something probable. Something in tune with this environment. He pointed to a dilapidated shopfront, its signboard askew above dusty mud splattered windows. The letters on the sign were meaningless but their style and color suggested something Latino or perhaps Caribbean. They cautiously intruded into the stream of shadow figures and moved closer to the windows, peering at what was contained inside. | Tell me what you see, Martin said. | Glass jars full of spices. Candles. Herbs. Old magazines. Religious paraphernalia. Martin saw something very similar. He was most attracted to a plastic and foil frame around a vividly colorful portrait of a woman in a shawl. The iconography suggested the Virgin Mary but the picture itself was of a blackskinned female, eyes startlingly large and white, breasts exposed and bountiful. Two boys, both black and covered with red fur, hung from her breasts. Twisted roots lay on red cloth before the icon. One of the roots had been cut and oozed a milky fluid. | Do you see her, too? Carol asked. | I do. The twins again. Theyre both black this time... | She looks like the woman in the dream.. . what was her name, Hazel? | Erzulie. | Lets call her up. | No, Martin said firmly. Shes not a minor player. We dont even want to deal with a figure that powerful. Not for a mere guide. | She spoke to us, she told us what had happened, Carol persisted, puzzled by his reluctance. | Theres a knot tied there. Some connection with the male figure who attacked you. I say lets work with simpler figures for now. | You think Goldsmith was fixated on Mama? Carol asked. Her flippancy and continuing dread made an odd and irritating combination for Martin. | draw no conclusions yet. He examined the windows objects more carefully. They seemed to be for ritual purposes; cheap plastic horns painted with snakes and fish, paper umbrellas ornamented with grimacing faces limned in jagged red lines, dried fish with shrunken eyes, jars filled with pickled snakes and frogs. | Lets go in here, Martin said. Why? A hunch. She followed him reluctantly through the door into the shop. A bell jingled overhead and the interior suddenly took on a fixed solidity indistinguishable from reality. The effect was startling; Martin could smell the herbs and flowers arrayed in stacks and rows along the shelves. He could feel his shoes rolling sandy grit and sawdust on the old wood floor. A wrinkled old woman, not Erzulie, stood behind a counter pouring out brown powder into a white enamel basin on a scale. May I help you? she asked, her voice clear and her words distinct. Her face was wrinkled and shiny like the skin on a dried frog. Her yellowed ivory eyes were full of humor. Were lost, Martin said. We need to find somebody in charge. I run this shop, the woman said, smiling broadly and waving her arm in gentle scallop sweeps at the shelves. My name is Madame Roach. What can I get you? Carol stepped forward. The woman fixed her eyes on her. Poor girl, she said, smile fading into pained sympathy. Youve been through a lot of trouble lately, havent you? What happened, my dear? The woman lifted a gate and emerged from behind the counter shaking her head and tsk tsking. Youve been attacked, she said. She touched Carols longsuit. The suit vanished, leaving Carol in her previous flowing white dress. Patches of blood stained the front of the dress. Some savage things have been at you. She turned on Martin. You brought this poor girl here. Why didnt you protect her? Martin had no answer. We were caught in a nightmare, Carol said, her voice like a little girls. There wasnt anything either of us could do. If you dont know your way around I wonder why you came here at all, the old woman said, expression deeply disapproving. This isnt a nice neighborhood anymore. It used to be wonderful. People came in all the time to shop. Now its just commuters rushing uptown to work, and then dying at the end of the day, no money to spend, no need for Madame Roach. Why are you here? Were looking for someone in charge, Martin repeated. Wont I do? I dont know. At least Im willing to answer your questions, she said slyly, winking at Carol. Does he really understand anything? she asked her behind a cupped hand. Maybe not, Carol said, voice still girlish. You come back with me to the rear of the shop and Ill fix you up, the old woman said. As for you, young man, you just look around here. Whatever you need youll find on these shelves. But whatever you do, dont open that jar on the table. Martin turned to see a great glass jar sitting on a low, heavy wooden table before the counter. Within the jar was a cadaver coiled up in greenish foggy fluid, wrinkled skin the color of a green olive. The blind eyes of its face were turned accusingly on Martin. Martin approached to see if it bore any resemblance to Emanuel Goldsmith or to Sir, the male in the dream, but it did not; this was a very different looking fellow even allowing for his nose and cheek pressed for an age against the smooth interior of the jar. He was bald and broad faced. The cadaver winked at Martin and squirmed a little, making the jar shiver. Martin backed away. The old woman wrapped her arm around Carols shoulder and led her through the gate into the back of the shop. Mind what I told you, she said. Martin turned from the jar and scrutinized the packed shelves. As he expected the contents of the shelves were not constant; they changed if he looked away and looked back. So long as he focused his attention on the assorted jars and cans and implements, however, they seemed as real as outside life, perhaps more real. He bent to examine a lower shelf filled with clay jars wrapped in cloth and sealed with wax. Behind the jars skulls had been stored. They seemed completely convincing and real yet none of them possessed the grinning quality common to human skulls. They all seemed disconsolate. Fascinated by this recurrence of a themesad skullshe reached to pick one up and examine it. At his touch, however, the skull disintegrated to dust. Against the left hand wall of the shop wooden drums of all sizes hung from black wires. The largest was as tall as Martin. He stood beside this drum, studying the carvings that ornamented its body. Again, the carvings changed when he looked away. They maintained the same subject matter howevercity streets filled with cars and stickfigure people, bordered by rows of crude colorless flowers covered with large, garishly painted insects. He tapped the taut skin of the drum with one finger. The drum said, Whom you seek has gone away. Martin removed his hand and stepped back, startled. He gathered up his courage and approached the drum again, tapping it lightly. No sun in this land. He is gone away. From behind him the old womans voice said, The assotor is a very powerful drum. You must not play with it. It calls the spirits and they are angry with you unless you have important business. I do have important business, Martin said. Carol emerged from behind the curtain wearing a multicolored caftan. Her long brown hair flowed loose around her shoulders and she smiled at him but he could no longer feel her emotions. An ignorant man comes here with important business, the old woman said. That means danger. Martin tapped the drum again. It said: Go with Madame Roach. The old woman flung her head back and laughed. You come with me. I am a horse now. Carol walked to Martins side and together they watched the old woman wrap her shoulders in a white robe and ribbons. She sprinkled the contents of several jars in her hair, rubbed it inthe smell of ammonia, pungent herbs and burning metal filled the airand then marked a black wheel on her forehead with paste from a dish on the counter. She fixed her eyes on Martin. Her voice changed to a deep masculine growl. Why am I brought here? Who calls this busy ba who has important work to do? We need.., to meet with somebody whos in control, Martin said. We have questions to ask. I speak through Madame Roach. Without her we have no words. She is our horse. Ask your questions. I need to know who you are. What you are. I dance on graves. I cover the sun with a blanket each night. I sing to the bones in the earth. What is your name? Martin asked. We are all horsemen, I need to know your name. Madame Roach shivered violently, straightened her back and held out her arms. Another voice spoke through her lips, a childs voice with a liquid trill. We would rest and die. Why do you disturb our peace? We are in mourning. The funeral is today. Whose funeral? The Kings funeral. Now the voice broke into singsong gibberish. Madame Roach danced lightly between the aisles, upsetting shelves and tumbling the shops goods to the floor. Clay pots broke and vapors rose, noxious and cloying. She whirled and stumbled beside Carol and Martin, steadied herself and shot her hand out to grab his chin. Regarding him with