I’m riding down the coast of the State of Being when he joins me, Jamey, the white knight, on his eight-legged steed. They are the same breed, his and mine, but mine is made of fire, and his of white flowers. He rides bareback and unarmed, which seems unusual for a knight.
He says nothing. This is not unusual for Jamey.
Perhaps we ride forever; neither of us can keep time, and it is always just before noon in the State of Being, that time when the grapes are ripening in the sunlight and the light glints off the ceramic spires of the city of Celadon. There’s a narrative of sorts, a dreamtime narrative, riding from landmark to landmark. The broad field of grain where we allow the horses to graze while we lie on our backs, staring at the merest wisps of cloud. The cove of rocks where Jamey strips and dives into the salted ocean.
Why is he here? What does he want with me?
At first, the silence is fine. There’s a strength and warmth in his frail body. His smile is kind, his eyes are blue shot through with sparkling green, like the skyline of Celadon at a distance against the pure horizon. After a while, the mood starts to thicken, a secret storm gathering in the air. It’s my words gathering, things I want to say, but it seems wrong to say them now. The longer the silence lasts, the more it becomes an entity of itself.
I shoot a bird with an arrow. Jamey cooks it for me, but he doesn’t eat. He’s an excellent cook, but he doesn’t eat. That’s why he’s so thin. When he emanates, he has to eat something; usually it’s just fruit. I think it’s because whatever he ingests, he swallows its pain. I’m grateful I can afford to be callous. Fresh meat tastes good after a long ride.
We cross the border into the State of Affairs. Suddenly, it’s night, a clear, warm night illuminated by a single, low-hanging moon. It seems to signal a change for us. « Why are you here? » I ask.
Jamey pulls his horse to a stop. His hands move gracefully, signaling in Galactic Sign Language: Because I love you.
I don’t know how to respond to that. A part of me wants to ask why, how, what brought that on. Another part wants to shout at him Couldn’t you just say it? I know he can telesend. In fact, he can sing, there’s nothing wrong with his voice. He just won’t talk.
It’s a trap. It’s another scheme of Tarlach’s. He means well, they all mean well, but if I let them get too close, they’re going to find out that I’m out of synchronization again.
I wasn’t meant to be here.
I’m a mistake.
Tara doesn’t want me.
You think that Tara doesn’t want you because you can’t synchronize, says Jamey. The truth is that you can’t synchronize because you haven’t been with Tara.
I spur my horse and ride blindly into the night, as fast as I can, anywhere away. After a while, I stop urging him, and my mount slows, eventually stops, and I droop in the saddle, tears running down my face.
I can see Jamey approaching, his horse glowing milky white in the moonlight. He stops a respectful distance away. He says nothing.
« If what you say is true, why haven’t I emanated? »
He shrugs. It isn’t a callous gesture, more of a sad one, more of a gesture of resignation to the will of our god. And I know that there are dozens from the Great Hatch who have never emanated – who can say if they ever will? But they’re all perfectly in synch, and I’m not. If Tara’s presence could fix that, why hasn’t it happened?
Unless she doesn’t love me. Unless I’m not meant to be loved.
I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to be her knight errant, to help the others. It just doesn’t seem to make any difference. I could go to Briscoe. He could fix this, but I’d eventually drift away again.
I get a chatburl from Tarlach. We all go out of synch, he says. Julian noticed it the last time he used his tuning fork. Briscoe’s presence brings us back into alignment. That’s why he’s called a troubleshooter on his trading card, and also why he felt such a compulsion to stay with the crèche during the Great Hatch. His proximity to the sparks during their ascension probably averted a lot of trouble. It makes perfect sense – an entity of our size would need some kind of central coordination. It’s probably no coincidence that he’s so close to Stephen, the other spark who roams. And Stephen is the base from which the rest of us synchronize. Since we didn’t have Briscoe at the time Stephen was incorporated into the pleroma, my guess is that I and I thought it would be easier for everyone to synch to Stephen than the other way around.
How long has Tarlach been watching us?
Jamey smiles and shrugs as if to say That’s Tarlach.
He rides up next to me. He signs to me again: We all express love in the way we are able.
I understand: Tarlach expresses love by watching and meddling; Jamey expresses love by silently waiting. How do I express love?
I’m a knight errant. What does that mean, really? I tilt against monsters and windmills. I look for trouble. It’s slightly different from a knight of the quest. A questing knight is looking for answers. But a knight errant is looking for questions.
Not trouble, chatburls Tarlach, tidings. You bring back stories of your adventures and news of wonders you’ve discovered. You tell of wrongs which need to be righted and new quests unfolding. You can’t do that if you don’t wander. And you can’t do that if you don’t come home.
Then I’m meant to go out of synchronization. It’s what I am. And I know it’s time to come home when I feel…like this.
Jamey touches my face, brushes the tears away. Let’s go back to New Merenis, he says. Let’s go to the café.
« You want to get dessert? »
He smiles. It’s the only thing that I can eat.