Instinct propels me towards the darkly glowing surface. As I rise, the water is full of spinning lights. They seem familiar to me, filling me with – I’d like to say nostalgia, but the feeling is for something which hasn’t happened yet. I want to reach out to them, to touch them, but my aching lungs need oxygen.
Hands grasp my arms, pulling me upward. Air at last. I gasp, cough, blink my eyes rapidly. I’m looking at a man. A naked man. His blonde hair is soaked with water; his eyes flicker blue, then green. His name is Dirk – no, it’s Theodoric.
That’s my name. I say it out loud.
I’m on my feet, pushed forward until I start to walk of my own accord. Disoriented, I glance behind me, seeing a robed figure and a glimpse of a man kneeling next to the pool from which I emerged. He doesn’t look back; his eyes are fixed on the water. Then the hands guide me into another chamber. A cave.
I have words, language that I have never learned. What I have and what I don’t have is surprising. Concepts: learning, reflection, self. All this without experience.
What am I doing here? I was promised something. I can feel the warmth of it, but I can’t remember what it was.
The cave is large and chilly, but there is a stone fireplace, even a bed in a chamber to the side. The hands guide me to a seat, and the robed figure disappears through the entry as quickly as he appeared. There is another man sitting nearby, also naked, absorbing the fire’s warmth. He’s a lovely young man, barely out of adolescence; his pale blond hair is streaked with pastel dye, the faintest tuft of a beard dusts his smooth skin. He’s shivering, maybe more out of fear than chill.
« I’m Theodoric, » I announce, repeating the only thing I’ve ever said.
The young man looks up at me shyly. « My name is Julian, » he says.
Behind Julian, in the distance, I can see light coming from a hole in the wall. Perhaps it could be used as an exit. I look again at the empty entrance. « If we hurry, maybe we can get out of here, » I tell him.
« They told me we have to wait, » says Julian quietly.
« Why? What are we waiting for? »
Too late. The robed figure is back, and with another companion. He, too, is shivering, naked. He is thinner than I, but not as thin as Julian. His hair hangs down to his shoulders, a rich brown tinged with reddish highlights. His eyes are…
…are exactly the same as mine – and Julian’s. I get a closer look at the man who brought him. His robes are dark and rough woven, and his face is covered by a mask of brilliant blue-green feathers. Behind the mask, I can glimpse the same eyes, yet again.
It’s not usual for men to have the same eyes, is it?
How would I know that? After all, every man I’ve ever met has the same eyes.
« My name is Theodoric, » I repeat for the third time, « and this is Julian. »
« I’m Roan Quickbeam, » the newcomer says.
« That’s an elaborate name. »
« You can just call me Roan. »
« Then I suppose you can just call me… » The word comes back into mind: Dirk. A weapon, nothing more. I don’t like it. But…I get to choose. Somehow, I know this – an agreement had been reached which means I get to choose my name. « Theo, » I decide.
We sit in silence for a moment. Something is bothering me. It’s Roan. He’s different somehow. I feel like I should know Julian, that I have known him for a long time. Roan is a stranger. « Julian, have we ever met before? » I ask.
« It feels like we have, » he says quietly.
Roan shakes his head, dejected and confused. « I’ve never met anyone before. »
« Let’s not worry about that, » I say quickly. « We’re in this together, the three of us. »
« Four, » says Roan. Julian looks surprised when Roan gestures at a fourth seat in front of the fire, still empty.
Another man is led in and left to us. He has short, almost black hair in a style which seems polished, executive. His body is beautiful, but the first word that comes to mind is efficient. He’s older than the rest of us, and his experience is apparent. If he’s at all disturbed by the circumstances, he doesn’t show it. I have the sense that there is very little which would make him lose his composure.
« I’m Templeton, » he says, taking the remaining seat. His eyes narrow. « Shouldn’t a fire have smoke? Shouldn’t it be dangerous to start a fire in a cave? We might get asphyxiated. »
« Good point, » says Roan, looking around hastily. « There must be ventilation. »
« I think it’s a special kind of fire, » I venture. « It doesn’t seem to be burning anything. »
« That’s good, » says Julian. « I was afraid it was burning wood. »
All of us flinch at the same moment.
« That’s…» Templeton begins, then stops. « Do any of you know where we are, or why we’re here? »
Where we are – where else would there be? The chamber with the pool? The world beyond the hole in the wall? Somehow, I know that there is a world out there, and I know a lot about it, and I have no idea why. « This doesn’t feel like Dolparessa, » I reply, surprised at my own words. « I’m Theo, by the way, and our companions are Julian and Roan Quickbeam. »
« Dolparessa, » Templeton murmurs. For a moment, he looks deep in thought. Then he says, « I’m sure you’re right about that. This is another world entirely. Maybe another universe. »
« You guys are scaring me, » says Julian.
« I’d say it was pretty strange talk, » says Roan, « except…well, look around. Everything seems strange. But then again, how else could it be? I’ve never known anything else except…»
« The lights in the pool, » I finish. Julian’s eyes widen, and he nods.
« I was in the pool, » says Templeton, « but there was something before that, not too long ago. An ocean, a very dark ocean. In comparison, the pool was so warm and full of light. »
« I thought I’d seen you before, » says Julian. « But not like Theo. Theo and I have been together for a while. »
Roan looks miserable. « I don’t know what you’re talking about. I remember being asked a question, and I answered. If only I could remember what I said! »
Our conversation is interrupted by a low, thudding noise, like thunder, like a heartbeat. « That’s a drum, isn’t it? » asks Julian. He’s smiling now. « I could make a drum, » he says dreamily. « But I’m better at making other things. Stringed instruments. Harps. »
Three men enter the cave. They’re dressed like the first, but with masks of different colors. The one beating the drum in a slow, steady rhythm is wearing a mask of charcoal gray. The second, in a mask of ivory, bears a cup, which he passes first to Julian, indicating that he should drink. Julian sips, tentatively at first, then greedily. I realize that I’m thirsty, very thirsty, and I’m eager when he hands me the cup. Curiously, it looks as though the level of liquid hasn’t altered at all.
It’s water, but it’s not just water. It’s something I seem to remember. Then the name comes into mind: RootRiot. It’s miraculous. I need it; my entire body is crying out for it.
My entire body, including the part which is actually a branch on a tree.
Suddenly embarrassed, I look up quickly and meet Julian’s eyes. I know instinctively that he’s having exactly the same revelation as I am.
How very awkward.
How can I be a man and a branch on a tree at the same time?
If I’m a branch on a tree, how can Tara possibly…
« Is this a dream? » Julian murmurs.
But Roan is waiting anxiously, and I pass the cup to him. Before he finishes, the third man, in a mask of smoky purple, uncovers a basket. It’s full of turquoise blue mushrooms. He presses one of them against Julian’s lips. He nods. Julian opens his mouth.
The man places the mushroom on his tongue, kisses him, and then, with his finger, marks him with a vertical streak of brilliant yellow-green which reaches from beneath the nose to the bottom of his chin, caking in his fine beard. When the man reaches me, he paints my face with a light, pure blue. The mushroom has a rich, slightly musky taste. It’s not unpleasant, but it makes me realize that I haven’t eaten. Have I ever eaten?
Roan’s streak is tan with a reddish overtone. Templeton follows, a muted color which has slightly more blue than green. It’s odd that Roan’s streak is so different from the rest of ours. But he is different, I think. It’s symbolic.
« Follow us, » says the mushroom-bringer. They direct us through a thin, winding passage in the rock. There’s almost no light, and it’s cold, so cold. The passage is narrow and dark, and I am suddenly afraid. It reminds me of something. It reminds me of something before I was in the water.
I’m panicking. It’s so hard to breathe. And it’s also getting harder to think. It’s the mushrooms. Were they poison? Have we been tricked?
I want to scream, to turn around and run back to the water. But I’m sandwiched between Roan and Julian. There’s nowhere to go but forward.
Then I see light. We’re emerging into a somewhat larger cavern. The man who gave us the water is now handing us rough robes of heavy, thick fabric and crude boots lined with fur. We don these and then follow him outside.
We emerge on the side of a mountain, a very tall mountain. We’re perhaps three-quarters of the way up. I make the mistake of looking down, and my head spins with vertigo. I stumble, and Roan reaches out to steady me.
There’s a tiny path made of wooden slats going up towards the peak of the mountain, bounded by a flimsy rope railing. A strong wind could easily blow a man over. I’m feeling vaguely ill from the height, the cold and the mushroom, which is not sitting well in my stomach. The world doesn’t seem as solid as it could be.
Not a poison, but a drug. Or perhaps there’s little difference.
We reach the top of the peak, and again, I’m overcome with wonder. We’re staring across a chasm at a building of golden spires. A temple – it could only be a temple. The only way to reach it is by a car dangling on a thin cable between here and there.
We get into the car, obviously. It’s not as though there’s anywhere else to go.
I sit between Julian and Roan, across from Templeton, but the robed figures remain standing. I notice that Julian is weeping silently. I put my hand upon his shoulder.
« What is the meaning of all this? » asks Templeton.
I gape at Templeton, amazed. It never occurred to me to speak to these men who seem to be – what? Captors? Initiators? Brothers?
« We’re taking you to meet the Archons, » says the man who gave us the mushrooms.
It was such a logical thing to do – simply ask them – but it never occurred to me. Even if it had, I would’ve been too afraid. Templeton has guts.
I’m too afraid to admit that I don’t have any idea what he’s talking about. I don’t know what an Archon is. Maybe like a god? And then I remember that there is something beyond God, even more important than God, and that something is Tara. I almost shout it out, but I stop myself. It’s something important, and I don’t want the masked men to know that I know. But I’m desperate to ask my companions if they understand what it means.
It’s warm, the warm ghost of a memory. If I close my eyes, I can feel it illuminate my interior world like a second sun.
The car reaches the other side, and we disembark. We’re led through the enormous arch of the temple door into a vast, circular entry hall. Our eyes are immediately drawn to the floor, inlaid with a mandala shaped like a ten-petalled lotus. Each petal radiates in ten bands of color; on about half of the bands there’s an heraldic device. Each is different, each seems to glow from within.
Wait – I’ve seen that pattern before, but in reverse. On the ceiling above the water. This chamber must be located directly above the pool cavern.
Hovering above the lotus is a circular projection containing the entire world. A holographic map.
« That’s here – the pleroma, » murmurs Templeton. « It’s our world, but not the only world. Dolparessa is another world. Trees grow there. Tara is from Dolparessa. »
Tara – the name burns through my limbs. Templeton says it with weight, with consideration, like it’s something sacred. Then I can be absolutely certain of him; we are bound by something more important than our own lives.
Against the far wall are seven thrones, all in very different styles. The drummer is beating more loudly now, more frantically. Then they enter, one by one, impressive, powerful men wearing elaborate robes. « The Archons, » Templeton whispers. The first is a large man with long, red hair; he sits in the center on an elaborate throne of gilt and purple velvet, round-backed, with the initial “S” in the center.[1] His gaze falls upon us, and he starts to giggle. His laughter is chilling, and the apprehension makes my already sick stomach surge. Julian’s eyes meet mine; he’s terrified, and I wish I could take his hand.
The Archons continue to enter. On the first man’s right, seated on a simple golden klismos, is an impressive, bearded man. He seems stern, but gentle, and his face radiates compassion. Looking at him calms me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t last: the third, a bearded, blond man with unruly hair, has such a penetrant gaze that I feel more naked than I did without clothing. He sits on the first man’s left; his throne is black jade, a simply carved design with a black blazing star embossed on its back.
The next throne could hardly be called a throne at all – it’s more like an oversized tropical rattan patio chair with floral cushions. I’m even more surprised when its intended occupant emerges – I know him! I know him even better than I know Julian. His branch stems from the same wood, the same root as mine. More than that, we were together in the cold, dark rocks when the warm promise was made to us. Seeing him makes me remember: the promise was Tara.
Tara: there should be an image, but all I remember is the feel of cold metal, a magic box filled with light and with love, with all the beauty I never imagined before from my prison within the dark rocks. Now I realize that there was a price to be paid for that promise. If this is it, so be it.
The entry of the fifth man shakes me from my reverie. He is enormous and muscular, his hair red but shading to ebony at the tips. He takes an elaborate griffin throne on the left. He’s strong; his strength is something I can feel, smell and taste from across the room. The last man to enter is not nearly as impressive as the others, handsome but a little too casual. He smiles at us and slouches back on a bizarre assemblage of rough leather, nail heads and enormous bull horns. Some instinct tells me not to be fooled. This man has the appearance of ease because he can act with an easy decisiveness.
The seventh throne, a slickly designed modern lounger, remains empty.
Whatever is in the mushrooms, it’s hitting me with full force. It’s hard to keep from swaying. And it feels like I want to drift out of my body into something else, something bigger. My mind is full of the shadows of leaves.
The mushroom-giver is saying something. « Join the pattern, » he murmurs. « Complete the quest. » His words echo distantly as the floor sways beneath me. My feet move unbidden until I’m standing on one of the petals with no insignia. When I look up, I see that my companions have also moved.
The drumming stops. The insanely laughing man rises. « Templeton, » he says. The water bearer indicates that Templeton should go forwards towards the throne. The Archon hands him an envelope. The intense man on his left calls for Julian. Julian is also given an envelope.
Then I am summoned by the man two chairs to the right of center, the man I recognized. As expected, I receive an envelope, as does Roan from the relaxed-looking Archon. We remain standing, four pairs, facing each other. The other Archons remain seated.
The kingly Archon rises and says gently, « You may open your envelopes and receive the message within. »
I break the seal, and I’m overcome by the sensation of warmth, of memory. It’s the promise again, I can feel it. It takes me a moment to recover before I can pull the contents from the envelope. Four words: “them beautiful a our.” Absolute nonsense.
But it’s so familiar. The handwriting. And that a letter should be written by hand, and on a paper made of pressed flowers. Most people can’t write. They speak and their words appear on a datapad. But I can write. I can write in a beautiful hand, write in cursive and calligraphic scripts. I can feel myself smiling, and it brings to mind when Julian first heard the drum.
There’s something clinging to the letter – a scent, an essence. If I close my eyes, I can sense it. It’s a woman. No, it’s The Woman.
Oh, so this is what Tara is!
Next to me, Roan is murmuring to himself in a kind of trance: « I remember now. I said that I had changed my mind about everything. »
I’m shaking again, but not from fear. It’s awe, a holy terror, and it’s also desire. The dignitary who handed me the letter is looking at me, and his eyes are kind. No, they’re my eyes. The same eyes that all of us have. But the woman’s eyes are brown receding into sunset.
« Do you remember me? » he asks.
« I think so. I feel I know you, but…»
He leans in close, whispering into my ear. « My name is Tielo. That’s for you alone to know, until the day of your return to us, when all the names will be known to you. »
He kisses me. My body responds with passion – and panic. I don’t understand. I belong to the woman, to Tara.
He sees my distress and smiles, half reassuring, half-amused. « It’s all right. Tara owns all of us. »
« It’s time, » announces the mushroom-bearer. « Follow me. »
We’re led into a central courtyard. What we find there is surprisingly incongruous: a landing pad with a flyer waiting for us. « Your destination is pre-programmed, » says the mushroom-bearer. « When you arrive, the flyer will leave. From that point onward, you may travel wherever and by whatever means you will. Strive as best you can to discover your purpose and your nature. »
We board the craft. It’s small, but comfortable. There’s a chest of food and clothing laid out for us. Without having to ask, we know immediately which is ours. Templeton has a muted greenish-blue suit, conservatively tailored with a thin black tie tucked beneath where the m-pins[2] affix the jacket’s collarless neckline. Julian’s attire is modern as well, a paisley cowboy shirt with glowing fibers woven into the embroidery so that the colors seem to cycle every few minutes. Somehow, I know that it’s a very trendy style on Dalgherdia. Roan looks timelessly stylish with a black shirt, black trousers and a red-brown jacket. I’m the odd man out. I have a white lace tunic, waistcoat embroidered with gold, sky-blue velvet pantaloons, crisp white stockings and black buckle-shoes. It’s attire from some two thousand years ago.
My head is clearing in the chill air, and the events which took place in the temple are starting to feel like a vague dream. But two things linger: the envelope clutched in my hands and the warmth of Tielo’s presence.
We’re silent, and the silence persists once we’re airborne. I watch the phantasmagoric spires vanish into the mountains. The sky is bright and clear, and the panoramic mountains roll out into fields of golden grain and pure white flowers. I close my eyes and think of Tara, straining to remember more.
We’re travelling for quite some time before an enormous body of water comes into view – an inland sea or perhaps simply a large freshwater lake. The waves upon the shore splash into rainbows. As we fly over a group of islands, I realize that the rainbows are solid, bending themselves into bridges and byways which vault from island to island. « Are they supposed to do that? » I murmur aloud.
And then suddenly Julian is sobbing. « I’m sorry! » I exclaim. « I didn’t mean…»
« It’s not you, » says Roan. « He’s been holding it in all this time. I feel a little shattered myself. »
I put my arm around Julian, and he weeps until my shoulder is damp. Finally, Templeton breaks the silence, saying, « Let’s compare notes. » He pulls out his letter. I’m shocked, and so is everyone else.
« But we can’t! » protests Roan.
« I was specifically told to keep to myself what was said to me, » says Templeton. « I was not told I couldn’t share the contents of the envelope. »
« I suppose that’s true. But it might be stretching the rules…»
« What rules? » asks Templeton. « What the hell is going on? Why do we all remember Dolparessa? You were right – this isn’t it. And to answer Theo’s question, rainbows don’t do that naturally. And that doesn’t happen either. »
Templeton points out the window. The fields of grain are now suspended and inverted, wind-blown tips sweeping the ground, roots spreading solidly upwards.
« Furthermore, » Templeton continues, « we all remember Tara, don’t we? »
Her name is a shock wave in the still air, like pronouncing the unpronounceable name of God.
« I think we have a right to any legitimate clue in our possession, » says Templeton. « I’d even say we have a right to illegitimate ones. Who were those men? Why should we obey them? »
« I didn’t get the feeling that they meant to harm us, » I venture timidly. « I think they’re on our side. »
Templeton stares out the window. « No, » he says slowly, « I don’t think they meant harm. What I don’t understand is why they couldn’t just tell us what’s going on. »
« Maybe there’s nothing to explain, » says Roan. « Maybe there’s too much. »
« What did you mean when you said that you’d changed your mind? » I ask.
He hesitates before he answers. « Maybe it was just those mushrooms, » he says. « I seemed to remember something, but it’s slipping away from me now. I remember saying, or thinking, at least…it’s what I thought just before…well, it’s disturbing. »
« Go on, » Templeton urges.
« All right, » says Roan. « The furthest back I can remember is something really awful, much worse than what we just went through. Right now, I’m confused and disoriented, but more things are good than bad. I have someone to talk to, and looking over the water like this, I feel free. But my first memory is of being completely alone and feeling trapped. There was no point, no purpose to anything, nothing good at all, only pain and isolation. I hated my existence. I wanted it all to end. I wanted everything to end, the whole universe. And then I sensed it, a form of life that existed because it wanted to devote itself, to love, to give itself, to give more than itself, to give everything. And I sensed an apparition of the thing that its devotion was directed towards. I think that’s what Templeton calls Tara. So many possibilities opened up – joy, clarity, selflessness, evolution. I was dazzled. And that’s when I said it: “I’ve changed my mind about everything.” »
« Tara, » I said in wonderment. « She wrote the notes. »
Julian gasps; everybody else is staring. « How do you know that? » asks Templeton.
I’m taken aback; it seemed obvious to me. I open my note, looking at it again. « It’s her handwriting, » I insist.
« I don’t know what Tara’s handwriting would look like, » says Templeton, « or even if she knows how to write. Not many people do. »
« I know it because I’m her secretary, » I reply, quite surprised at my own words. « I got the job because I’m so good at calligraphy. Handwritten letters are the pinnacle of elegance. »
« That would sound completely crazy, » says Julian softly, « if I weren’t so sure I’m an…um, experimental luthier? »
Now Roan is looking at the letter. « It does have particularly fine characteristics, » he says. « I can tell because typography is so important to an overall design. »
For the first time, Templeton seems disconcerted. « It seems that you all have some sense of yourselves that I’m lacking. How very odd. I seem to be quite certain of many things, but my function is a blank. Maybe I just can’t remember yet. »
« Why don’t we look at the letters? » I suggest.
Roan is the first to speak: « Mine says, “all blooms flower wedding.” »
« It’s evocative, but it doesn’t make much sense, » says Templeton.
« It’s better than mine,” Julian replies. « Combine 101 Into For.” »
Templeton sits forward excitedly. « Then it’s much easier than it looks. Look at the capital letters. None of the other notes have them. »
Templeton takes the letters from Julian and Roan. I’m sorry to let go of mine. I can feel Tara’s warmth on it.
« I’ll give it back, » Templeton assures me. « But look…»
He spreads them out, placing Julian’s first, followed by mine, Roan’s and his – the order in which we entered the cave. Suddenly a message is clear, a kind of poem:
Combine them all together
101 beautiful blooms opening
Into a flower bed
For our wedding night.
Julian’s voice trembles. « If the letters are from Tara, » he begins, « then maybe she’s calling us? Maybe she wants us to marry her. »
« Aren’t we already married to her? » asks Roan.
Templeton shakes his head. « I don’t know what you mean. »
« I think I do, » I say with sudden surety. « We were promised…when we came out of the darkness, that if we survived, we’d be allowed to…»
« What do you mean, if we survived? » Julian exclaims in alarm.
I have to think about that, think about it carefully. My sense is that it doesn’t concern Julian, even though I’m so sure I know him. But that Archon…Tielo. « Does anyone else remember… » I venture hesitantly, « I know it sounds absurd, but do you remember being a…tree? »
« Back at the cave, » says Julian. « And also at the temple. I had a sensation that I’m a branch on a tree, an enormous tree. No, not really a branch, but a trunk on a tree with multiple trunks. But I thought I was hallucinating. »
« Actually, I can feel my branch growing, » says Roan. « Quite rapidly. »
I close my eyes and concentrate. « I think so, maybe…but I get the feeling that mine is pretty much fully grown. »
« Mine too, » says Julian. « It’s been the same size forever – at least, in relation to the rest of the tree. »
« Something grew in the water, » says Templeton. « Maybe it was a tree. It seemed to happen so fast, but then again, it’s hard to tell. I know that time must be passing because I remember a sequence of events from when I was pulled out of that pool. Still, it doesn’t feel like time is passing at all. »
« Now that you mention it, » says Roan, « I have no idea how long we’ve been in this flyer. »
« Two hours, forty-seven minutes and six seconds, » Julian replies confidently.
« How did you know that? » Like Roan and Templeton, I can’t tell at all. Everything seems both eternal and immediate.
« I’m a musician, » says Julian, as if that explains everything.
« And…? » Templeton presses.
« I need to know how time works, or I couldn’t make music. Time is frequency’s palette. It’s strange because the majority of universes map time onto space in a consistent fashion although subject to predictable distortions such as gravity, but it’s not like that here. On Dolparessa, time is sort of like a metronome, but here I’m sensing all this strange syncopation. »
« We’re men, but we’re trees, too, » murmurs Roan. He stares at Tara’s letters on the table. « The bed of flowers may not be metaphorical. »
« Flowers. I wonder how we pollinate. » I meant it as a joke, but the minute the words escape my mouth, I understand. I suddenly remember that I’ve seen them all naked, and they’re all very attractive. It didn’t mean anything at the time. I didn’t know we were destined to be lovers.
The temperature in the flyer suddenly seems stiflingly hot. Julian turns red and his fine fingers fly to his mouth; Roan starts rooting in the stasisstorer for a popwater. I avert my gaze quickly out the window. We’re over land again. Below us is a field of grasses made of Vinyalamo 15b which nevertheless grow as if organic. One-legged lions hop lazily through the fields, grazing.
« Pollinate, » mutters Templeton dryly.
[1] With the exception of the initial and the purple coloration, it is an exact copy of a throne used by Napoleon I – trans.
[2] A magnetic fastener – trans.