Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!pa.dec.com!jac.nuo.dec.com!web.zk3.dec.com!zk3.dec.com!spider From: spider@zk3.dec.com (Spider Boardman) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Jac & Kadrys: Tails and mewsings Date: 19 Aug 1993 06:39:08 GMT Organization: DEC OSF/1 Development Lines: 245 Distribution: world Message-ID: References: NNTP-Posting-Host: web.zk3.dec.com [ADMIN: Part two--still a collaboration between Andrea and Spider.] + Jac stretched, raised his glass. "But M'arrella reminds me that I'm + keeping you from holding up your side of the conversation..." Kadrys nodded. "Ahyes. I believe you were after some memories..." He leaned back from the table, the shadows obscuring his face. For a long moment, silence gathered itself around them, as he sank into the ocean of his past. His voice barely rose above the crackle of the fire. "I met a poet once, long and long ago. You will pardon me if I do not mention his name. His people believed the dead should rest in the peace of anonymity. "He was young, as poets are, whatever their body's age. He was poor in the wealth of the world, as poets tend to be. He lived in a single bare room, with his papers and ink, and a small black cat." He nodded to M'arrella, "The cat was not as beautiful as you. She was scrawny and her tail was bent where someone had run over it. But the poet loved her, and fed her whatever he had left after his meals, which was not much. "Every day that the weather would allow, the poet used to sit under the trees of the boulevard, trying to sell a few lines to the wealthy passersby. One day, a beautiful girl came by with her guardian. The poet had never seen anyone like her. Even among the elegant concourse of her peers, to the poet's eyes she stood out like a rose amid daisies. He could not believe his good fortune when she came closer to look at his writings. But then her guardian hurried up and bustled her away. "With that, the poet gathered up his papers and left his usual place, following them through the crowd, until he found out where she lived. He didn't care about the fact that, with no coins from the boulevardiers, he would go hungry that night. He simply had to see her again. He lingered outside her house all evening, hiding in the grounds, until a lamp showed her at a window. She was singing in a high clear voice, and playing with a bird whose feathers were coloured as brightly as jewels: a tiny thing no longer than her finger, which sang back to her with a voice even sweeter than her own. "The poet hurried home, and poured out his heart onto the page. His poem told of his helpless admiration for the vision at the window, the beautiful bird and the woman who outshone it. All the time he wrote, the cat mewed her hunger, and he ignored it. When she tried to attract his attention by rubbing his arm, he pushed her away, writing with the fury of passion. At last he had finished, and he hurried out of his room, to give the girl what he had written. "He stood beneath her window, where her lamp was still burning and the bird's cage stood by the open curtain. As he stared up at the window, catching fleeting glimpses of the girl's slender form, he remembered her guardian and realised he would hardly be allowed to give her his ardent words in person. He was seized with the romantic notion of throwing her his poem, having her read it and look out, to see him worshipping her from afar. He folded the paper into a slender dart, and threw. It soared into the open window, but on its way into the room it touched the hook holding the cage door closed. The door swung open and the bird darted out at once. "The poet drew back into the shadows as he heard the girl crying, calling for her bird. Appalled, ashamed, he turned to flee, unable to bear the sound of her grief. He almost tripped over something dark in the night. Something small. The cat. It stared up at him with eyes like hunter's moons, and in its mouth was the still body of the bird." Kadrys paused for what seemed a long time. No-one at the table moved or made a sound. At last he resumed. "The poet could have remembered he had chosen to let himself and the cat go hungry that night. He could have seen the act as the cat had probably intended, as a gift for him, in return for the food he had given her in the past. But the sound of the girl's weeping deafened him to the voice of reason. He kicked out at the cat, who dropped the bird and fled into the night. He looked down at the bird as it lay at his feet. He crouched and picked it up, holding it in one palm. And then, it stirred in his hands, lifted its head and chirped. "He walked into the pool of light before the front door, examined the bird feverishly. It was quite unharmed. He closed his fingers gently round it, and knocked on the door with his free hand. He knew that for once her guardian would not refuse to let a poor man enter the house. "Of course, the girl was overjoyed to see her lost songbird again. While she was putting it back in its cage, he even managed to retrieve the poem from where it had landed, without being seen. If the return of her bird had pleased her, his poem touched her deeply. They stayed together talking until late into the night." Kadrys sighed, shifted a little in his chair. "They loved well, and lived long, and were happy. Except for one thing. The poet never saw the little cat again, though often he would walk the boulevards, watching, searching for her through all the streets of the city. But he could not call her to him. He spent all his words in his poetry. He had never given her a name." For a moment Kadrys sat with his head bowed, silent. Then he looked up at M'arrella. "You are more fortunate than she. He knows your worth." His glance moved toward Jac. "And you are wise enough not to let misunderstandings come between you." Jac's eyes crinkled at the compliment, and he nodded to Kadrys. M'arrella closed her eyes and resumed purring. Kadrys' eyelids lowered, giving his eyes an unreadable cast, like smooth slivers of black glass. His voice was a pensive murmur when he spoke again. "As I said, that was a very perceptive phrase you used... 'Empires have turned back to sand'. ...I remember empires. I remember an emperor. He brought an end to wars that had ravaged his planet for hundreds of years. He curbed the greed and abuses of the many tyrants. He was personally responsible for a rule of peace and prosperity such as his world had never known. His reign passed into history as a Golden Age... Was this a good man? Was the world poorer for his death?" Jac raised his eyebrows, but did not answer. Kadrys waited a moment, then broke the silence. "I remember a king. He conquered his world, by fear. His name became a nightmare, a phrase of abuse. He murdered the leaders of enemy armies, subjecting them to unspeakable public tortures, until none dared raise a force against him... Tell me, saint. Was this an evil man? Would it be better if he had he never been born?" Kadrys directed a sudden searching glance at Jac. "Do I need to tell you that I have been describing only one man?" Kadrys shook his head grimly. "Morality, the most tangled web of all. Sainthood seems a heavy burden to me. And I have already borne the cost of my own damnation for more years than I care to count. You said that you brought a man back to life. Then what are you doing _here_? In the streets of the Low City, _now_, people are dying, murdered by gangs and monstrosities. How are they any less worthy of life than that workman you saved?" His eyes were trained on Jac. Jac could see tiny reflections of himself against the black depths, images as perfect as if scored by the points of needles. M'arrella's hackles started to rise, and Jac placed his hand upon her back. He looked down at her as she calmed. He brought his eyes back up to meet Kadrys' gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was both deeper and softer, and all signs of amusement were gone. "That's the kind of question I ask myself a hundred times a day. I don't always like the answers I get. Especially not when they demand that I leave what I see as an obvious injustice to stand. You see, I am not told all that I might want to know about a situation--only what it is needful for me to know. I _have_ spent some time in the Low City here. It turns out that other agents are already at work in this place. They must be allowed their own chances for success or failure. I may only intervene in their work if _they_ request it. Other things there are which may yet require my attention, but not mine alone. I have been told to wait. It seems that others are expected. "As to whether any of those slain in the Low City here are less deserving of life than the worker I mentioned before--no. Considered in isolation, no one person's life is worth more than another's. That wasn't why that man was restored to life. There were other circumstances surrounding his death which led to the decision to raise him. I am not at liberty to discuss those circumstances, either. All I can really say is that they were not an everyday occurrence. It's the only time I've felt called to raise someone myself. Even then it was marginal. Jac sighed again. "So, then, if I'm not really needed in this area, why am I not somewhere else, hm? I'm here because there are needs of my own that are to be met. Oh, sure, _some_ people seem to think that being authorised to invoke major miracles means that the grantee has no problems, but you've already said you see it as a burden. Indeed, that authority comes with the responsibility to use it as it was intended. Unfortunately, I'm still only human. There are limits to what my mind can endure before being numbed. Shell-shock can set in. I can lose sight of what I'm supposed to be doing. I need to take time out to rest and be refreshed in order to be fully myself again. Slowly, Kadrys nodded. "I understand..." he murmured. He raised his head, met Jac's eyes. "...I'm sorry." It might have been an apology for the questioning, or an expression of pity. Perhaps it was both. Jac picked up his drink, swirled it about in the glass, and looked into the eddies. He spoke again, with language at least two hundred years out of fashion. "Aye. An any might understand, 'twere ye." He raised his eyes toward Kadrys again. "An ever cease I in asking whether I do aright, I am become a monster eke ought be hunted down and slain." He shook his head, and brought himself back to the present. "I look at you, and I see a man cursed with urges and power that could devour him--a curse which prolongs his existence so that he might have time to succumb, and to be a menace. Yet you have not fallen, even after more time than I have found it convenient to measure." He smiled grimly. "We are not so different as I had thought. While I hope never to be that old, your example encourages me." A slow, teasing grin. "A long life has its hard times, but (at least in my case) it beats the Hell out of the alternative..." The grin sobered. "I thank you. Novel experiences, at my age, are gifts beyond price. And I've never been told before by a saint, that _my_ example is an encouragement..." The serious moment was replaced by a bright, unusually open smile. For a moment, the expression gave his normally sombre features a strangely lively look, the air of a gleeful youth. Jac raised his glass toward Kadrys, as though in toast. He paused, frowned pensively, and gave a disgusted snort. "Hmmph. Here I am, after coming on like gangbusters at some one who already hinted he might 'rather just enjoy a private moment, alone with my thoughts', and of course I didn't take the hint. Oh, no. I had to keep invading his privacy, compounding my initial rudeness with my o'erweening curiosity. This even though a little patient observation would have told me what little I really needed to know. And now I find that my behaviour was even worse than I had realised--I never bothered to introduce myself." He sighed. "I'm Jac. That's short for Jacob William Benson. Sorry to have disturbed you so improperly." A lopsided smile. "My name is Kadrys. Short for nothing, meaning nothing. No family name, for the usual reason." he added with a faint shrug. "As for disturbing me, well!" he chuckled, "Normally those finding a vampire in their midst, disturb me in a lot more - pointed manner than anything you've ever done! The way you've endured my caution, has been more than polite. ...No, I'm _glad_ now that you came over. I've had more than enough time on my own. Seeing you, and more to the point, feeling your aura, I would have done my best to avoid your notice. And I would have missed out on a most fascinating acquaintance, because of my mistrust. But your forthrightness saved me from that. So don't worry about me, and don't bother blaming yourself, when you've done the right thing." Jac smiled. "Thank you. You're a gentleman." He finished his scotch. "I'm glad it worked out despite my clumsiness." He flashed a grin, which then faded. "You've given me something, too--something which needs some reflection. You hit a raw nerve with me when you asked why I'm _here_. It shouldn't have hurt. In looking past the pain to find an answer, I found some bitterness. That doesn't belong." He chuckled dryly. "I went on walkabout because I knew I needed a vacation. Now I have a better idea _why_." He shook his head. "You've just told me you're glad I came over, and M'arrella is still hoping for more tales of ancient history, yet I find I need to go away and meditate on what I've been shown about myself. I'm sorry." As he stood, M'arrella returned to being a sword attached to his belt. He bowed deeply to Kadrys. "I hope I shall have the honour of seeing you again." Kadrys rose silently, returned the bow. "As do I." Jac went outside, returning his glass to the bar on the way. Kadrys resumed his seat, staring musingly across the table into the suddenly empty space that Jac had left behind him. -- Spider Boardman spider@zk3.dec.com DEC OSF/1 development ...!decvax!spider I don't speak for DEC, and vice versa.