Chapter 7: Lights of Taormina

 
  "Once men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted other men with machines to enslave them."


"Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a man's mind." Paul quoted.


"Right out of the Butlerian Jihad and the Orange Catholic Bible," the Reverend Mother said. "But what the OC Bible should have said is: Thou shalt not make a machine to counterfeit a human mind...The Great Revolt took away a crutch,' she said, 'It forced human minds to develop.'


Frank Herbert
Dune
                          .  .  .  .
..::The Kurds claim to be the descendants of the 'Children of the Djinn' (spirits), the offspring of a mating between the djinns and mortal women. In some parts of Kurdistan, especially among the sect of Yezedis, who worship the Peacock Angel (Azazel, the leader of the fallen angels), can be found tall, fair-haired people with blue eyes.::..
                              .  .  .  .
..::Christian O'Brien has suggested 6 there is a connection between the biblical Watchers and the semi-divine, semi-mythical Tuatha De Danann (Children of the goddess Dana). This race of ancient magicians descended to Earth on the sacred hill of Tara in prehistoric Ireland.

With the coming of Christianity, the Tuatha De Danann was banished into the 'hollow hills' and became the Sidhe (Shee) or 'Shining Ones', the elves and faeries of Irish folklore. There has always been a strong belief among the peasantry in Ireland that the Good People or faeries were originally the fallen angels who sided with Lucifer in the Battle of Heaven.::..
                            .  .  .  .
                                                         

Daryl was hiding out in the library. After a restless night, he had given up on sleep in the wee hours and huddled now before the fire; drapes open wide, watching the unfolding unnatural storm in all its crackling glory. He had noticed that timestorm activity seemed to follow him now...whether at Nob Hill house or back east. It had become the fickle fury of his fate and determined to dog his steps.


He had just convinced himself that he enjoyed being here in the dark alone, when --

  '...Awfully dark in here.' Emlyn entered the study. She shut the double doors behind her.
   Daryl's gaze flitted to her briefly before he returned his attention back to the storm without. 'It suits my mood,' he allowed.

Em brought her tea with her as she edged along the stacks and eventually joined Daryl at the fireside.
  'Athena up as yet?' she inquired, as she curled into a corner of the sofa.
   Daryl frowned. 'I don't think so.'
  

'I slept well, for once. Pure exhaustion...' she sipped her tea.
  '-- Indeed?' Daryl roused somewhat. 'And what had you been doing that left you so...spent?'
  

Athena's: "Dancing all night with strange men," came to mind then, but Emlyn restrained herself. To say that all they'd done was dance, all night long...well, it sounded absurd even to her.
                                                          

'Daryl, we must talk,' she began...

   '-- Ah.' Daryl nodded. 'One of those...talks.'

Em didn't take the bait.
  'I'm worried about what you said last night. About seeing the professor and Frank, here.'

  'So am I,' confessed Daryl, sitting up and regarding Em at last. She has no right to look so...refreshed, he groused to himself. His gaze went to her left hand. At least she was wearing his ring. Here; and now, he reminded himself.
  Quickly banishing the thought; Daryl plunged deep into the dubious waters of De Nile...

   'It is especially worrying to find them in this house...still.' Daryl had kept this place as insurance against anyone else coming into contact with any nefarious influences that may still linger from past malignant introgressions.

'I wish Mr. Yeats were here,' Em murmured, 'I'm out of my league with all this.' She leaned her head on hand. 'I did hear about Frank, however...'
  'What's that?' Daryl stood then, and stood before the fire and faced Em. 'How?'

Emlyn sighed. 'From Raimundo, Daryl. Athena and I went back to the Village of Sopa and Fog.' There. May as well have it out on the table.

  'I see...' Daryl stared back at the storm, drumming fingers on the mantle piece. 'Your, 'old friend', Raimundo, eh? And, Sebastiao, as well, no doubt?'

Must he be so...prickly?
  'Sebastiao helped us locate Raimundo. Who did mention that Frank had, gone missing. It's complicated. I'm not certain how much even Raimundo knows. There is some mischief brewing, that's certain.'
  '"Time out of joint,"' Daryl paced and pontificated. '"The whips and scorns of time..."'
  Shakespeare knew a thing or three about Time, he recalled.

'Daryl?' Em looked at him, marveling. 'What are you on about?'

   'I?' Daryl paused, regarding the storm. 'I am but a poor player.' He bent round to the poker and bestirred the fire entity. Then sighed; 'What have I to offer, Em? I have as much to go on as yourself.'

   'Then, we must share what little we have, and, and...' Em became frustrated...

   '-- And then, what, Em?' Daryl shoved hands into pockets, facing her. 'What are we to do? What CAN we do? Have we more knowledge, more information, more firepower, more leverage?  What can we, poor humans do, that the likes of Axelis, and, I'm sure, Yeats cannot?'

'I don't know.' Emlyn rubbed her forehead. 'I just...feel so...'

   Helpless? Out of touch, perhaps? Daryl knew the feeling.
  'Yes, well...join the club.' He deigned at last to take a seat on the other end of the sofa. 'I just don't know what sort of action you and I could take in such a situation.' He paused. 'I do think, however, that I'm beginning to get a handle on Axelis...more or less.'

This got Em's attention. 'How so, Diego?'

   'Well...' Daryl sighed, 'I was looking through some of these old newspaper articles, just a moment...' He went over to his desk and opened the lower drawers, searching.
    'Ah! Here, you see?' He brought back a folder containing a collection of clippings.

Emlyn had seen some of these before; 'Yes...I recall seeing these, in the San Francisco papers, and other locals. We get these reports occasionally of large femurs, skulls that farmers have ploughed up in the fields...'

'Yes, well, doesn't that sound like anyone you know? '"Eight-foot tall redhaired giants", Em?' Daryl had already made up his mind.   'Emlyn, Axelis is no different from the rest of us on this planet. He simply comes from another Time, not another place.'

Emlyn frowned at the scattered articles. 'It's...possible, I suppose.' Why not? It was as plausible as any other hypothesis.
   'Of course, it's possible.' Daryl sat beside her, gathering the documents. 'He is, what people once were, before they devolved..."There were giants on the earth in those days,"'  He intoned, rummaging through the folder's anachronistic articles.

Emlyn didn't like the sound of that. 'Oh, Diego, I don't know... For Axelis to be an ancient human, I might be able to accept, but he is not, can not, be...Nephilim?'

  She shook her head, keeping that idea at bay. What the devil would that make her, then? 'Oy vey...' Head fell back upon her hand.

                                                             

'People lived to a great age, long ago; biblical tales abound,' Daryl continued, oblivious of Em's distress. 'But, Axelis may simply be just someone who, after hundreds of years of evolution and experience, has achieved what to us, seems like magical, near-superhuman abilities. It would certainly be a more logical explanation, than, say, celestial influence...of either a spiritual or extra-terrestrial sort.'

Daryl paused, pleased with his neat packaging of the enigma of Axelis...as well as those rather sticky past-problems he had had at Mt. Popo. (Denial was grand, so it was...) 

  'Em?' He glanced her way.

  'I, I suppose...' Emlyn suddenly didn't feel so well. Again, her hand stole to her head, trying to rub out the furrows and anxiety from her mind; that bloody ring again...

   Emeralds. What was it about these great verdant chunks of planet? Something diabolical...ah! There was a tale, a graal legend of a great emerald that fell from Lucifer's crown, as he hurtled from heaven above. Well, he can bloody well have it back!
  She felt she was getting a headache...
 'I just, oh, Diego...'

Noticing his novia at last, Daryl lay a tentative hand on her shoulder. 'Que es, Josephina?'

  'Diego, I simply...well,' she stammered, flustered. 'What, what are you saying, exactly?' she paused, not daring to think beyond a certain red flag that obviously warned DANGER for her recent reclaiming of equanimity, 'I mean...what if, my father is, as you suggest, some sort of ancient human, how old? Centuries?' She shook her head, 'Biblical tales...'

'What, Em?!' What had she gone off on now? He thought she might feel more at ease, knowing that Axelis was just a creature of the earth, like the rest of us, only on a slightly alternate timeline.

'Fallen...angels, Daryl?' Emlyn sounded disgusted.
 

Daryl sputtered, then laughed out loud. Emlyn looked at him in wonder. Whatever his reaction to her outing, she certainly hadn't expected all this!

   'Em!' He coughed, choking on his merriment. 'You can't be serious! I was just, you know, quoting biblical references to large men, men of prodigious years, 'men of renown' and all that!'

Emlyn was not amused. She stood and smoothed her skirt, turning to leave.

  Daryl caught her hand. 'Em. Don't go,' he was smiling still.
'Forgive me? I had hoped to soothe your fears, not give you new ones!'

To his great surprise, tears fell from Emlyn's eyes, as she wrestled with her ring finger...

  'I cannot keep this any longer!' She wrenched the emerald from her hand and taking hold of Daryl, thrust it into his palm. 'Oh, Diego...'
   She gulped back a sob and fled, before Daryl had time to compute what had just transpired.
                                                  

 
He slowly stood, gazing after Emlyn's wake, doors hanging wide...he looked at the ring in his hand, biting his lip. He shook his head, how had this happened? Crazy...

Lightning shined through the library, accenting the morning in silver; thunder echoed in tympani and basso profundo.
  No, Daryl wouldn't chase after her. Daryl sat.

Diego, would have chased. And, Diego, I am no longer, he admitted.
  He studied the stone, holding it to the light. Again, a flash of silver shot through the scene and lightning haloed about the emerald. It is a pretty thing, thought Daryl; outside, a rumble of thunder agreed.

Sighing, Daryl slipped the ring in his waistcoat pocket. He half-smiled. Ah, well. Railroading Emlyn into some sort of brain-fever induced fantasy of his wasn't working, obviously.
  It was for the best. He leaned forward, elbows on knees and
sighed in relief. Gods, he thought, at least Jack now need never know...

He knew that had to be a big part of Emlyn's refusal. His nephew's ex-fiancee'...now his? His erstwhile estranged nephew, too; whom he had just recently seemed to be winning over. Gods only knew what that perceived perfidy would do...would have done, to Jack.

He had suspected, any road, that Emlyn had gone back to see Raimundo. Daryl was simply relieved that Athena had gone with. Not a problem...
   He sat back, and propped his boots up on the hearth.

Maybe Em hadn't known exactly the reason for her actions, but, she had acted on her best instincts.
   For she had known, as well as he, that she was still in thrall to Merlin; just as he was to Anara.
   Despite the dedication of all, of everyone involved; Emlyn and Merlin, himself and Anara to cease and desist! Gods knew they all had tried...
  

You can't simply turn love off and on like a fawcet. No Shakespeare, I, no; thought Daryl. But, spot on, all the same.
  He sat watching the fire burn low, thinking of the enigma of Axelis.
  Hmm. Fallen angel. Nephilim?
  Would that mean Emlyn is, in part Anakhim?
 
Daryl tossed another log on the fire, watching sparks shoot up the chimney like impish salamanders.
                                                                     

                             . . .
Emlyn needed to pull herself together; a cup of tea...
  She fled to the kitchen, where she found Athena sitting at table. 'There is tea,' Athena offered, waving a hand at the covered pot.

'Thank you.' Em was grateful for this small mercy. She hoped Daryl would not come storming after her. She still felt she needed to be far from him for a while...no confrontations.
  She poured and drank deep.

'In a hurry?' Athena questioned, noting Emlyn's rush to the tea pot. 'Ah.' She also noted her naked left hand then. 'I see.'
 
Emlyn poured another shot of tea. She drank it, pacing the room. She paused at the window, frowning at the storm whipping through the trees. Storms seemed to follow Daryl about, she'd noticed.
  'I wish it wasn't so furious outside right now; I could do with a walk.'

Athena smiled softly. 'I am so used to it now that back home I find it rather comforting. It means I am back in my bear cave, and safe; or relatively so.' She stood, gathered up the pot and rinsed it.
  'I'll be heading back to the gatehouse, soon. You are welcome to come with...?'

Emlyn sighed with relief. 'Thank you, yes.' Of course; she did not have to remain here in this haunted house, with its cellar labratory conjuring up old ghosts, and new...thinking of Axelis then.
  'I, shall just leave Daryl a note, I think.'

Em found paper and pencil in a drawer, and scribbled a brief missive. She folded it, and stuck it upon the teapot.
  'He won't miss it there.' Daryl always drifted into the kitchen, as did they all, later or sooner, she knew. Hub of a household.

'Ready?' Athena announced.
'I am most ready,' Emlyn took her hand. 'Thank you, Athena.'
'We're away, then --' Athena smiled.
   And then they were gone. Not even Athena's smile was left, Cheshire Catlike...
                                                           

                       . . . .                                                                                                         
 
'I've always wondered what libraries were like in your time, Athena,' Emlyn inquired.
  They were now returned to the gatehouse, having traded their Pacific stormfront for an Atlantic.             

Athena sat upon the hearth cracking and arranging kindling to make up the new fire.
  She paused a moment; then, taking a lucifer, she lighted a thin twig and touched it to her wooden pyramid, sighing.
  'It once had been a wonderful vocation,' Athena began, 'but then, seemingly overnight, everything changed suddenly and became a battlefield...'

'What was the reason for the change?' Em asked, although she feared she knew the answer.

Athena stood and, taking branches, began stacking them about the nascent flames. She paused, hearing thunder without and glanced up.
  '"Thou shalt not make a machine to counterfeit a human mind"', she intoned, staring out the window at the storm-purpled thunderheads. She glanced at Em with a sad smile.
  'That's from a 20th century science fiction novel by Frank Herbert, titled 'Dune'; a Great Revolt had occurred in which the people had pulled the plug on computers, and then had them outlawed, condemned.'

Athena set the firescreen and then joined Emlyn on the sofa, continuing her tale....
  'Our fate however, was not so providential.'

'Computers then, started the whole problem?' Em asked. 'This was before the Others arrived?' She was beginning to see through this glass darkly somewhat.

'Oh, yes.' Athena barked a sour laugh. She looked at Emlyn then.
  'And, perhaps after seeing your Industrial Revolution taking over now and making so many livlihoods obsolete here in this machine age, you have an idea of what we were up against.'

'Despite warnings from the best scientific minds worldwide,' she continued, 'artificial intelligence; combined with eventual interfacing with human biology was embraced and promulgated as the crowning glory of human achievement.' Athena took off her boots and set them hearthside, then folded her legs along the sofa.
  'But, to get back to the library...' she smiled at Emlyn, her sister-in-the-stacks, '...it was the beginning of the end for books.'

Em recalled Daryl having said something about this. 'A sort of...plastic electronic device replaced books proper, didn't it?'

'Umm.' Athena growled softly. 'Somewhat..actually I could never use the things, gave me a headache. Anything on a computer I would always have to print out on hard copy before reading. And, many people did prefer the simple comfort and feel of, a real book. But, the powers that be ignored this fact and banged the drum loudly in promotion of 'ebooks' as they were marketed.'

'You would think that libraries and bookstores would protest!' Emlyn knew that she certainly would have.

'No, alas. Just the opposite happened. Books were suddenly viewed as awful, dirty and dangerous things. Now, to be sure, there were sometimes job related injuries which occurred when dealing with any material objects. However, with intelligent management, this was rarely a problem.'
  Athena regarded Em seriously then. 'And, I'm sure, when it comes to management, in your time as in mine, one finds therein only the best and the brightest!'

Emlyn's eyes grew wide. She began to laugh...
  
 'Ah...Athena; you know that is certainly...rare.' She sighed. 'I've found that, well, when someone cannot handle a supervisory position, it merely turns them into a despot. It is, I don't know, the power that corrupts. They will not admit to being wrong, ever, about anything. Until someone gets hurt. And, perhaps, not even then...'
  Em was thinking about Alice, and how the threat of unionizing had gotten them into such trouble...leading to Lev going to jail, and his eventual breakout.


Athena shifted her feet up onto the big pirate treasure chest before them which served as her tea table.
  'Well, Em...in my time, as I was saying, those in power went mad  with what was touted as 'progress'; more and more people were 'let go' from jobs they had worked for decades. Robotics, and computers, could now do so much more work than a mere human. People were now a liability. Especially people who had been in their same positions for some time. These people were making the most money, and they weren't getting any younger. The library wished to be rid of them ASAP. In this modern age, there was no need for people to stand in the way of profit.'
                                                        

'I've seen that happen here,' Emlyn added. 'When my friend Alice was caught with union pamphlets, she was banished to a warehouse out-of-town to work in old archived documents...and she'd no way to travel so far.'

'Oh, Em...' Athena looked pained, putting a gentle hand upon Em's arm, 'I am so sorry; for you and for Alice. Something of the sort happened to me as well...'

Athena sat up then, feet upon floor.
  'I was in the union. We all were. But by then, unions were all but powerless. Everyone was. The legal system, politics, churches... The one and only power and authority was that of the almighty dollar. They were the 1% who made the most money, versus the 99%; the rest of us.'

  'Well, on a sinking ship, all the rats scramble to the top, you know. I had been working in that particular library system for, oh, going on 20 years then. I had been hearing rumors and reports of the library punishing people who had been there longer than I, for no other reason than that they had been there too long, in their estimation.'

'"Punishing"?' Em asked. 'How?'

'Punitive action took the coward's route: by making workers as miserable as possible,' Athena answered simply.
  'They stopped at killing them outright, at least overtly so; they could not be implicated in such. But it was their hand which had strangled the life from some.'
 

She sighed once more. 'In my case, I was transferred, much like your Alice, to the farthest branch possible; it bordered the very regional edge. Which was fine at first, as I had transportation.    

   'However, again like Alice, it was my involvement with the union and trying desperately to improve things which got me in trouble; then, when my old car finally quit, I had to try to get to work by other means.

  'But,' she continued, 'despite what I thought had always been an active lifestyle, coupled with healthy habits; it seemed that the mental, emotional and now physical stress of the commute, as well as growing pressures on the job, had conspired to take rather a disastrous toll on my health.'

'For the first time in my life, I was having problems, physically.  And, Em, in my time, healthcare was exorbitantly out of reach for most people. I certainly could not afford it. I sustained a back injury, and my doctor said I had to work part time only. I lost health insurance then, because the library did not pay into it for part time employees.'

   Athena laughed mirthlessly. 'All developed countries of the world had national healthcare for their citizenry. Except the richest: US. And things were just beginning to slide into chaos then. We'd no idea that things could get so much worse, so quickly.'

Emlyn regarded her friend silently. Athena had always seemed so capable and adventurous...this was a vulnerable side unhinted at by her Promethean aura. Even Athena had an Achilles heel...

   'So, now that I was well and truly injured, I was without access to healthcare. And, I wasn't making as much money on half time. Couldn't really afford another car...cost of living had risen beyond the ability of most to afford; homelessness was rampant. But, that was just the beginnings of hell...not just for myself, but for everyone. '

                                                             

Athena stared into the fire, quiet for some moments.
  'Ah, Em...so much was changing, so fast. We hardly had time to catch our breath; just keeping up, running faster, always faster; just to survive from day to day. One intuited a looming sense of disaster hovering; but the media, marketing, everywhere proclaimed nothing but the Brave New World that was upon us and would save us all!'

'What happened, Athena, to you? How did you get to work, then?' Emlyn wanted to know.

Strangely, Athena threw back her head and laughed. 'Oh, Em! You wouldn't believe it! Our town had the absolute worst public transportation system.' She looked over at Emlyn, shaking her head.
  'It was one of the biggest mistakes ever made, when oil companies began dismantling urban trolley systems. One could see the difference between East and West simply by studying the difference between rail systems.'

Em smiled ruefully, agreeing. 'You can't get there from here. Not in the West.'

'Nope.' Athena nodded. 'Rockefeller and Standard Oil made sure of that. They wanted to pave over the West with highways and parking lots. They still do...
  'Anyway, what I did was this: I made a four hour commute daily. This entailed walking to the bus stop to catch my first bus, then waiting for the light rail, then waiting for yet another bus, which, if I were lucky, would take me to within walking distance of the library.
  'This was in all weather and seasons, and I went from shivering in the dark and cold at night while awaiting that last bus, to sweltering; especially when I missed my bus, which only ran once every hour, and then I would have to walk a mile down the road to catch the next bus, in triple digit heat, no shade whatsoever...'

Athena paused. 'Needless to say,' she continued, 'after long months of this, my health began to suffer somewhat, since I had problems at work getting breaks and lunches...which was why I had contacted the union in the first place.' 

'This became my routine: I would be able to scarf down some oatmeal in the morning, about 5 a.m. and then, I was off on my odyssey across town to 'work', where I'd have no time at all, to eat...then the trek home again.

  'Well, I would arrive home around 8pm at night. Then I could have...some lunch. Oftentimes, I was so tired, I would just fall to bed, exhausted.'

'Oh, Athena...' Emlyn bit her lip; just like Alice! She felt outrage for her friends unjust treatment; and no doubt they hadn't been the only ones suffering.

'Yes. Well. Local bus travel isn't much improved over stagecoach days. Ever tried to eat whilst traveling thus? One is lucky not to wind up wearing the meal.' Athena looked at her hands. 'Any road, by then, I was, shall we say...over fifty. I had always loved to hike and bicycle...'
  'Oh, I do as well!' Emlyn couldn't help but interject.
  Athena smiled. 'We do love to be out in nature, no, Em? That, was the only thing keeping me sane...when I felt well enough to get out of bed, and walk or bike to a patch of green somewhere...these were becoming more and more extinct.'

Athena leaned forward and tossed another branch onto the fire; from the wood surrounding the estate she gathered windfall, of which there was plenty. The welcome crackle of burning wood was heard along with the odd gust of wind whistling down the chimney from the gathering storm.
  Emlyn found herself sitting with clenched fists. Slowly she willed herself to relax. But, she had to ask:
  'And then...the Others?'

'It was...looming, then.' Athena frowned. 'Yes, not long after my injury.' She leaned her head on hand then, and turned to Emlyn with an odd smile.

  'When all this was going on at work, meanwhile Daryl had stayed in touch; mostly through mail then. He was now out of college, he'd dropped out rather early on, and was working then with John on his magician's act. That is, when he wasn't acting in some play or film...he would also play the odd concert occasionally, for extra money. His family was well-off, but they had all but disowned him after he'd quit school. Actually, they'd never really gotten along that well.'

Emlyn found herself fascinated by Athena's bringing to light this occulted bit of Daryl's history. What little she'd known, she'd gotten from Jack.
  'Indeed? When when you say John, is that, do you mean, Flubber?'

Athena smiled wide, a real smile.
  'Oh, yes. That--,' she paused, eyes shifted, '..ah, well, yes; John.' She inhaled a lungful, 'John was not all...horrible. I suppose. He did have his uses. But Daryl, he was the brains behind the whole timewalking business. John was merely the mechanic.'

Em cast her mind back... 'I had heard from Jack that Daryl had been working to blend somehow, real magic into his magician's act.'

Athena lay her head against the sofa's back.
  'Yes.' She closed her eyes. 'That's what did it.' She opened them and looked pointedly at Emlyn. 'Turned the tide of Timewalking.
  'And, no, don't ask me how, for I've no idea; but -- Daryl had somehow gotten it to work. And, according to him, he himself, didn't know exactly when or what had brought the change about, but he found himself on a new Timeline. And, even found his way back again. Eventually, they worked to hone and modify things to an actual science, and could enact some control over when and where to travel.'

'So...' Em tried to catch up, '...he was able to take you away from all of that. Like the proverbial knight in shining armor?'
Emlyn's thoughts strayed unerringly to Merlin then.

Athena laughed again. 'Oh, much later, Em. First, Daryl had to have his taste of success. His 'act' took off, as you may imagine! Which made him doubly in demand as an actor, and musician...that was when he bought this place...'

  She waved a hand toward the window, indicating the enthralled estate, which encluded her gatehouse.
  '...And, eventually installed the screening field around here, along with the permanent Timestorm. It was shortly after that, when the Others arrived. And, it was then that I...took my leave.'

Suddenly, there came a rapping, at Athena's gatehouse door.

Athena and Emlyn looked at one another. Athena frowned.
  'I, can't imagine...' she muttered, heading for the door.

Opening it, she stood back, looking up.  Emlyn also arose, and slowly approached...
  She could see a torso outside the door, and then, almost comically, she beheld the head of Axelis bending round neath the portico.
   'Hello!' He announced, as if it was of no great moment for an 8-ft-tall Otherworldly being to lurk about Athena's gatehouse.

'Hello!' Athena's hand went to her heart. Apparently, she had not been expecting him either. 'Ah, won't you come in?'

Axelis nearly smiled.

  'I have a better idea...' And he stood aside, motioning with a large hand for them to join him without.
  Athena smiled, just a wee bit. She turned to Em.
  'Shall we?'

                                                        .  .  .  .

Meanwhile, back at the teapot...

   Daryl read his note from Emlyn. He crumpled it up. Stuffed it in the pot, put the lid on.        
   He was also tempted set it afire, spit on it, and dance on the ashes.
  But, he resisted.

What to do now...
   He was not about to follow, that was certain. He stuffed hands in pockets and took himself out of the kitchen but refrained from the library and temptations that lurked therein.

Coming into the parlor, he felt more relaxed. He regarded Rossetti's painting of the Magadalene above the fireplace and remembered that he had replaced his portrait of Anara with the Rossetti.
                                                               

  Glancing at the sofa, he remembered that was when he and Emlyn had fallen asleep together there...that may have been the first time he had allowed his 'ward' to become...close.

He hung his head then, and allowed himself to fall upon the sofa, throwing an arm across his eyes, to blank out the world.

  Although Emlyn had written that she had simply needed some time alone, he couldn't help but be feeling utterly rejected...

Anara had conspired with Merlin, (and Thelene and Yeats as well?),
to kick him out of paradise, and then Emlyn had returned his ring, wanting nothing more to do with him -- (After having seen Raimundo, he reminded himself.)
  And now he felt trapped, here in this house of ghosts and dangerous spectres...

Daryl sighed, putting both arms behind his head. How easy things had seemed back when he and Em were simply Diego and Josephina; young Gypsies with only the night, the stars, the moon,  music...and each other.
  He found himself singing softly:

'"They were young and love was shining
like the colors of the rainbow
Desire felt like choking
Love was smoking under the volcano
He can still taste her kisses
Sweet as the red wine from Messina
Now he's sitting out in the night
Looking down upon the lights of Taormina

Seems like another lifetime
when they rambled along the shore
seems like another lifetime
she used to call him her sweet Señor...
Maybe in another lifetime
On a pathway to the sea
Maybe there they'll be..."'

                                                                     

CLICK BELOW Watch and Listen:

Lights of Taormina

MARK KNOPFLER LIGHTS OF TAORMINA.

There’s laughter in the darkness
Music floating in across the bay
He’s half listening and wondering
How he could have let her slip away
So long ago but still he wants to know
If anyone has seen her
And he’s sitting out in the night
Looking down upon the lights of Taormina

They were young and love was shining
Like the colours of the rainbow
Desire felt like choking
Love was smoking under the volcano
He can still taste her kisses
Sweet as the red wine from Messina
Now he’s sitting out in the night
Looking down upon the lights of Taormina

Seems like another lifetime
When they rambled along the shore
Seems like another lifetime
She used to call him her sweet senor
Maybe in another lifetime
On a pathway to the sea
Maybe there they’ll be

The crowd calls for the emperor
Raise their hands to hail another king
But he’s been so long a wanderer
Another crowd can never mean a thing
He came, he saw, he conquered
Ten thousand voices roared in the arena
Now he’s sitting out in the night
Looking down upon the lights of Taormina

He hears the chimes of history
Myths of gods and men forever ringing
Ancient dreams in all their mystery
Wars for Sicily and Spartan women
In the mists of antiquity
Ships of war set sail from Carthagina
Now he’s sitting out in the night
Looking down upon the lights of Taormina
Sitting out in the night
Looking down upon the lights of Taormina

Chapter 6: Legacy, Part II.

..::Mummies of ancient Caucasian Giants from 8 to 12 feet tall with red hair have been found in startlingly diverse areas of the country, from Florida to Nevada. And there are the members of North Dakota's Mandan tribe, long known from the earliest days for their red hair and blue eyes.

What the popular press at the time called "redhaired giants"
immediately roused the hackles of mainstream academia and caused them to sweep the whole unpleasant subject under the rug::.. 
 
Richard J. Dewhurst   
The Ancient Giants Who Rule America
                       . . . .
..::When his active work in Dinas Emrys was done, there came about Myrddin the glass dome or ship...and in it he was transported with the 13 Precious Things of the Island of Britain::..
                      . . . .
..::...In Scotland the Greek-Celtic form of Christianity lasted longer than anywhere else; for about six centuries Rome did not establish what to her seemed order and dignity.

The travels of the Celtic monks took them to far places on the globe. Cormac went to Orkney, the Shetlands and probably Iceland. Brendan spent most of his life at sea and, according to tradition, landed on American shores.     

Proverbially, these monks were linked with the Druids by sailors:
   'He who is wise will have two tillers to his rudder:
    The Art of the Druids for Luck of Wind,
    And the faith of Iona for stilling the winds.'::..
                          . . . .
'My Druid is Christ'
St. Columcille (Columba)            

Ross Nichols
The Book of Druidry

                          . . . .

'Where is Duncan's body?' -- 'Carried to Colme-kill
      The sacred storehouse of his predecessors
            And guardian of their bones.'

Shakespeare
Macbeth, II, 4.
                                                       

'What is the Time?' Emlyn asked, searching for her weskit watch. 'That late? Or early, rather...'


None had gone to their beds that evening. Long and long the Company had danced far into the night, at times themselves taking turns at guitar or piano, as the stars moved them. Only now, in the Between Hours, did they take their rest; after the music and revelry, after the crowds of townspeople and travelers retreated and retired.




They were partaking of sweet oranges in a corner booth. The empty place seemed to echo of music, though the crackling fire was the only sound of here-and-now.
                                                         

 Em shut her watch. 'T'will be dawn soon...'
      She glanced through the window; grey advanced upon black,  the thick bay fog of Otherwhere. Between night and dawn.
  'The hour of the wolf,' Athena whispered. Em's eyes questioned.
 
Just then, Sebastiao entered with a tray bearing walnuts, a wheel of cheese and apples.
  '...And coffee.' he passed the mugs round.

'It smells like heaven,' Athena waved the mug under her nose, inhaling the dark smoky scent.'Thank you, Sebastiao.'
   He merely smiled and sat beside her across from Em and Raimundo, too tired to pontificate for once.

'Raimundo,' Em began, peeling an orange, 'I am so glad we came; and I found you again. You are perhaps the only person I know who would understand all that, well, all that has happened. And has been happening, for some time.'

'I am pleased we could reunite, Josephina.'
Raimundo sipped his coffee, leaning against the wall, more relaxed than Em had seen him before; well, since Alice had been around.
  'You and Diego...you do not speak of such matters?' he inquired archly.

Em drank deep of coffee. 'Yes, we can. About most things. He was one person I could go to for answers to certain questions. But not all.' Her gaze went straight to Raimundo.

 She shifted on the bench, turning toward him.
  'For instance, what was the nature of that...experience I had in the desert? I think that you would be the one to ask.'

Raimundo took a glance out the window at the lurking fog.
   'You are the one to know that, Josephina. It was for you, alone.' He began to crack walnuts. 'How did it make you feel?'

Diosa, Emlyn thought...how to convey that in mere words?
  'It should be obvious, how I felt; mon dieu...' Em's head fell into her hands and she pulled her hair back as she raised her head, staring into the night, lost in...thought.
All smiled at that.
  'Undeniably, you were ecstatic, ma chere',' Athena opined.

A soft moan escaped Em involuntarily as she lay her head in her hands...
  Raimundo gently touched her arm, then handed her a nutmeat.
  'Would you say, it was, altogether a beneficient, benign wind, Josephina?'

'Wind.' She repeated staring ahead blankly. 'Was that what it was?'
  She took the walnut half, staring at it as though she recognised it not.
 'What am I to make of it all? Oh, Raimundo...'

Raimundo put an arm about her shoulders, glancing at Athena and Sebastiao.


'Let us see if there are any eggs in the kitchen, sim?' Sebastiao held out a hand to Athena, and they made their way into the kitchen behind the bar.

Raimundo pulled a knife from his belt and began slicing apples; he thumbed a slice Em's way.

'It was like nothing on this earth,' she declared, '...and yet, familiar somehow.' She plucked the apple from his hand.

  'But, when I think of the bloody history of Mesopotamia and the holy land, Egypt...I wonder. Was it not there, in those very desert regions, Arabian tales of djinns were spawned?'

   Her eyes slid to Raimundo's: '...Thaumaturgy, Essence of St. Michael...'Al Khem'; is that not the land of Egypt, land of 'al-chemy'?' She regarded her companion.
  'I have much to wonder about.'

Raimundo secreted his blade back in its sheath.
  'You,' he began, 'you, yourself are always the best judge of such things. Especially that which happens to you in particular. Did it seem to be 'an ill wind which blows no good'? -- Like an oboe...'

Em smiled at that. 'No, you rascal. And I love the oboe.' She paused, musing.
  'I know what you mean, though. No, I do not think that it was anything but...beautiful.'
   Her eyes took on that slightly glazed, far-seeing aspect.
   'Perhaps it was...Beauty itself.'
                                                  

   She sighed and drank coffee.
  'Not a spirit, nor a djinn,' she decided. 'It had no personality, as such.'


'I believe you have your answer,' Raimundo counseled. 'Beauty is truth, and truth beauty. To live infused with  beauty is to experience the harmonious blending of love, awe, truth, kindness and respect. It led Jacob and Rachel toward their individual and collective destinies.'
   His gaze sought her own, '...of course, you know of El Shaddai; its meanings are variously, wind, or breath, mountain, and all-encompassing.'
                                                                           

Kitchen doors swung open then, revealing Athena and Sebastiao entering along with the wond'rous waft of a real breakfast.
  'Ah, and the cheese! Good.' Sebastiao announced. 'A bit of that will go well with the eggs...'

Silence reigned but briefly, as they tucked in.
  Emlyn found she was not all that hungry, surprisingly.
  'I wonder, though...Raimundo, was my experience anything like what happens to you when you were acting as a vehicle for Frank?'

Raimundo paused, considering. 'No, not really. When I am ridden by someone else, I retreat. I am not so aware of their presence. But with an experience like yours, that is more like a...merging with pure spirit. As you said, not any specific personality.' He returned to the business of breakfast, requiring sustenance.

Emlyn turned to Athena; 'Raimundo...used to be a, vehicle, for someone for years,' she explained. 'He is a practitioner of Candomble.'
                                                 

'Indeed?' Athena looked interested rather than shocked. 'Fascinating! I have always been intrigued by such.'
Em continued: 'He acted as a channel for my good friend Alice's husband Frank; who had been lost in a time...a time, bubble? -- you might say.
    'He, Frank, was involved in the same early timewalking experiments as my father...the mundane one.' 
   Emlyn's voice took on a hard edge whenever she spoke of her more earthbound parent. 'Long, long ago...'

No one said anything for some minutes; intent upon business.   Then Em realised she smelled peppers and finished off her plate at last; leaning back from the table.                   
'Muito saboroso!' Em proferred up her poor pittance of Portuguese. 'Thank you both for this. I am feeling more myself.' She endeavored to hide a yawn.

Raimundo was moved by breakfast to smile;
  'Sebastiao can turn a hand to other things than gambling and carousing, at times...'

Sebastiao turned a wounded look toward Athena who regarded him with lifted brows.
  'This, the thanks I receive from a friend,' he groused, turning a bored look upon Raimundo. 'Next time, breakfast is on you,' he stabbed a fork at him, then cleaned his plate. 'Not bad, for a sparse larder.'

'Most of the kitchen's pantry is locked up nights before the staff leaves,' Raimundo explained. 'But, they know us here. It is a second home, to some.' He regarded Sebastiao with a dark glance.

'Dishes...' Sebastiao announced, pushing his plate to Raimundo as he leaned back, stretching his hands behind his head, '...are all yours!' With a grin, he winked at Athena.
                    . . . .

As usual, another storm was brewing back in Massachusetts.
  'Just so...' Daryl murmured to himself. He went to the desk  and swept it clear; maps, books... All went back in the drawer.


He stalked the room, hands thrust in pockets. Pausing by the fire he stared across the library at the armoire. Cup and Box lay within. They called to him. The mahogany seemed to throb.
                                                                   

     Em would not approve, he knew. But Em wasn't here, was she?

Daryl tore his gaze away and returned his attention to the fire...let the flames draw his mind from that sirens song. He heard the low rumble of thunder without and knew another timestorm was imminent.
  He also knew that his questions would not be answered by any mundane journey, no.


'"The weak become strong when they are reckless,"' Daryl muttered to himself, '"and the strong become weak from scruples."'
  Whether thinking like von Bismark was wise or not, Daryl strode slowly to the armoire.


He took a deep breath and opened the double doors of blood-dark swirling wood.
  'Here we go,' he whispered as he took hold of Cup, swathed in its indigo velvet, and set it upon the desk.

Box was next. He examined it from all angles; it did not look all that old at the moment. Box had that handy trick of changing appearance; it could be newly gleaming, or weather'd and worn, depending on the whim and wherewithall of its own entity. Who or whatever that may be.

He reached into a small drawer in the armoire and brought forth an old salt cellar. Striding to the desk, he poured a circle of salt around it, wide enough for him to step inside.

Box now sat on the opposite end of the desk from Cup. Daryl made sure he had all that may be required; especially his mobile unit, just in case.
 
He regarded both objects a moment, and removed the velvet from Cup. He then slowly opened the lid of Box, then crossed himself, (also just in case.)
   He then put his left hand upon Cup, and the right upon Box.
  'You know what I need...' he breathed. 'Answers.'


The rumble of thunder increased in power. A faint blue light began to glow about the Cup, while the Box was illumined by a slight golden aura.

A loud crack of thunder echoed above and lightning flashed as the fire suddenly died and an ethereal silent wind began to blow in a whirlwind about Daryl. He felt it snapping up his legs and then it completely enveloped him. He held fast to the Infernal Instruments and clamped jaws tight.
                                                          

            Another boom of thunder, and then, in the lightning which illuminated the library, there remained no trace of Daryl.
   Cup and Box sat alone; still, silent, with no hint of spirit fire.
   Daryl was off again.
                     . . . .

Nob Hill house? What am I doing here, Daryl thought?
   He then found himself in the cellar below where some sort of gathering was taking place. To his amazement, Emlyn's father was among the group.
  -- This did not look good.
 
We have traveled far, thought Daryl. Rather than being thrust into the scene as one of the players, this time, he discovered he was merely an observer.
  Interesting.

As he watched the scenario taking place, he began to sense a presence near him.
  His attention switched focus: a nebulous whirl of fog or smoke was materializing beside him. As he stared at it, he thought he could discern a figure. Human, seemingly male. The features began to coaslesce into a recognisable face.

-- Frank! The professor's old research partner.
  But how could that be? Emlyn had told him that Frank was now in South America and back with his wife, Alice.

Daryl now began to realise that the others here could also see Frank, or what bits had appeared.
  All eyes were turned upon the amorphous figure that swirled about, becoming alternately a foggish phenomenon, then focusing into a more solid looking outline of Frank.

Something caught Daryl's eye...
  The professor was withdrawing a box of some sort from within his jacket and pointing it at the figure of Frank. He turned a dial on the box.
                                                                

The apparition that was left of Frank began to vibrate. It, he, then fell to his knees. Daryl began to wonder if there was anything he could do to help...when suddenly, Frank disappeared.

The men crowded round the professor and strangely, began to smile, and to congratulate one another. Emlyn's father returned the box to his pocket and shook hands with several well-dressed men who appeared to be backers of this dubious discovery.

Daryl was confused and appalled; this was certainly not what he had expected from this trip. What could any of this mean, he wondered?

Just as he was considering that perhaps taking his leave would be wise about now, his appetite for adventure was further quelled by the sudden appearance of the exceedingly vast, Herculean presence of Axelis -- Emlyn's Otherworldly, other father.

Unlike the others however, Axelis looked directly at Daryl, unsettling him to the point of near embarassment.
  To his relief, the redhaired giant then regarded the group of men, who had meanwhile retreated into a corner far from Axelis. His formidible, fantastic presence they most certainly had not ignored.

The professor fumbled in his pocket for the box, and with a shaking hand attempted to turn its focus upon Axelis.
  -- The box disappeared.

Daryl wanted badly then to follow its example.
  Enough of this, whatever it was...he tripped the catch on his mobile unit and the last thing he saw was Axelis turning his gaze upon him.
  The eight-foot-tall Otherworldly giant with the warship did not look  pleased.                                                 

 . . . .

Emlyn at last had the time to ask Athena about her dream initiation. They were now on the road, having left straight from the inn sans sleep, and already were nearing the City.

  'I'm relieved that it turned out well for you. So you were truly in ancient Greece? That's...fitting.' Em regarded her friend with something near awe; she was thinking that the enigmatic librarian could easily walk in the sandals of the gods.
   Athena smiled.

'Keep your secrets, then.' Em leaned against the window, yawning. She shut her eyes against the growing light. 'I wonder what Daryl has been up to whilst we were gone?'
  '-- Gone: dancing all night with other men!' Athena had suddenly found her tongue. 
   'Who, Daryl?' Em was wicked when tired. They both had a hardy chortle. 'Oh, I am sure he kept busy. Up to his eyes in dread iniquity.'


'Daryl...simply, "prefers an accommodating vice to an obstinate virtue", ala Moliere,' Athena stretched, yawning.
  'Here,' she grabbed Em's leg and hefted it. 'Put your feet up on the seat over me, then I shall do the same.'
   'Aahh...' Both women sat against opposite coach walls, feet propped.
  
After some minutes, Athena tentatively inquired, 'Em, will you never give up trying to save the devil?'
  'Is that what I'm doing? I assume you mean Daryl.' Em crossed her arms before her and lay back, attempting to get comfortable. 'Do you think I will succeed?'

Athena did not answer for some time. Then,
  'I think it's worth a shot.' She cleared her throat and observed, '"One woman's devil is just another woman's loving husband,"' or so that lay goes...'
  'Oh, Athena,' Em chided, but she was smiling.
  The company rambled on down the well-worn coast road for some time; the fantasmal fog nipping at their heels.


'Athena...?' Emlyn shifted, and looked over at her friend.   'Thank you for coming with me. I just had a feeling that you would be the best companion on such a journey. You were wonderful...you didn't even bat an eye when Raimundo suggested we ah, do ceremony.'
                      

'Well, Em,' Athena's eyes were closed, but she seemed alert still. 'I did just walk into a crystal ship with an eight-foot tall being, with never a glance back.' She blinked then, casting a stiletto glance Em's way.

   'It's what I do.' She reached down and took a drink from the water sack. 'Thirsty?'

'Parched.' Emlyn accepted the water gratefully. She decided then to attempt broaching that taboo subject once more:
   'Athena, tell me something, anything, of Axelis? Please?' Her eyes fluttered between closed and awake.

'Oh, Em; you do understand, that I hardly can recall my time in Otherwhere. Surely you know whereof I speak.' 
  Em just sighed in answer.
 'But I will try...' Athena sat up a bit, stretching. 'You know, he truly does have your best interests at heart.'

A father with a heart. Hm. A novel concept. But when she thought of the fathers of people she'd known, she knew that same situation usually prevailed. Was it merely a vicious cycle? 'The sins of the fathers' and all that; on down through the generations?

'However...' Athena grew pensive, 'with Axelis, it isn't a personal brand of love that he feels. His is love of a more universal sort. So, he can appear to be rather cool, or remote. To us, anyway. His view of the world is a timeless one. He sees things in cycles, rather than along a straight line.'

'Hmm.' Em thought about that. She yawned. 'Oh, alright. Can't get blood from turnip, I suppose.' She handed Athena the water. 'I wish he'd given me some of his height, at least. He's enough inches to spare...'

Athena laughed at that.
  'Ah, I'd love to see you with Daryl then!' They both dissolved into over-weary giggles.
  Athena began to hum...then to softly sing:

'"I'm five-foot-ten,
  A man among men
  and you're seven-four...

  But with all your faults

  it's you I adore,
  when you stand up
  your hands touch the floor..."

Em whooped aloud with laughter, nearly tumbling from the seat.

Athena continued undaunted;

  "It had to be you,

   wonderful you,
   it had to be you..."

Athena taught Em the song and they sang it the rest of the journey home.

Which was now not that far off. Oddly, back in the city the sun was shining. Apparently, they were now free of the tenacious tentacles of that foxy fog.

At last, opening the front door, Emlyn thought to herself how good it was to be home... A home of sorts, anyway.
   How long had it been, she wondered, since she had been back to her wee bed back in the Sierra foothills at Mrs. Murphys? She had not seen her Triad sisters in far too long. Not since the solstice.

                                                                  

    'Sleep...' Athena entered behind her, 'Bed, now.'

'Of course, cherie...' Emlyn put a hand on her shoulder. 'And, merci' for coming with me.'
'Ma plaisir,' Athena smiled. 'Now, to bed before I fall over...'

After Athena had retired, Em felt in need of a hot bath before she completely ran out of energy.
  Heading toward the stairs, she'd one foot poised to climb, when she thought she heard small noises coming from the library. Probably just Rosa, she told herself as she softly crept to the study doors...

Nothing appeared out of place as she gently shut the door behind her.
  A rustling sound was heard then; near the sofa. Padding quietly forward, Em held her breath as she drew closer. Peering over the sofa's back, she suddenly beheld --
  'Daryl!' she breathed, frowning. 'What...?' She wondered then if he had followed them?!

He seemed to have been sleeping, fully clothed. He turned over on his back and opened his eyes, blinking up at her..

  'Em?' He coughed and sat up. 'You're...back.' He seemed as confused as she.

'Daryl?' She came round and sat beside him.

  He reached for his mug of cold coffee and drank; ran a hand through his wild hair, then took Emlyn's hand in his.
  'Em. Ah, how, so how was your outing?' He mumbled, still waking. He rubbed his forehead, commanding himself to think.
Mind, stuck. He needed a psychic Heimlich...

'What, are you doing here?' Inquired his beloved novia, daughter of the giant redhaired, very ancient, very angry, Otherworldly warrior.

He leaned over, elbows on knees, silent. Finally, his head fell into his hands.
  Em waited, quiet. What was all this about?

At last, sighing deeply, he ran hands through his unruly dark cloud of hair and regarded Emlyn intently.
  'Emlyn, I...I've just seen...your father.'

Em hardly knew what to think then. But Daryl had more up his magician's sleeve.
  'And, your other father as well...Axelis.'

'Where?' Em frowned at Daryl, fearing the worst.
'Here. But, not now. In the past.' Daryl stared into the fire. He hung his head then. 'I also saw, Frank.'

What had Daryl been into now, Em wondered? 'Frank,' she repeated. 'Here.'

'Yes,' Daryl stood and leaned on the mantle piece.      'However...when I say 'here'; though it was Nob Hill house, it was not in the present time.' Daryl patted his pockets and gazed about, as if unsure of himself, or his whereabouts. His focus at last settled upon her.

'Em,' Daryl sat down beside her, taking her hands once more.

  'There is something...something going on that is, I fear...' He groped for the proper words; settled at last on '-- malevolent. And, I believe your father is behind it.'

'Which one?' Emlyn asked bitterly, thinking that she had finally found the reason behind her intimations of trouble.

Daryl ran a finger lightly over her emerald.

  'The Professor. Of course. There was some sort of experiment he and a group of men were conducting. Suddenly, Frank appeared; just the vague outline of him. The professor pointed a device of some kind at him which seemed to cause him pain. Before I could do anything, he'd disappeared entirely. That's when Axelis showed up.'

'Where were you during all this?' Em inquired, looking narrowly at Daryl, hardly knowing what to make of it all.
But she was getting an idea...

Daryl sighed. 'I was there, and yet I was not. I could only observe.'

'Cup and Box, Diego?'
'Sim, Josephina...'

Em bit her lip and looked away. What a homecoming! If only she wasn't so exhausted... This had something to do with what Raimundo had alluded to regarding Frank.
  She rose then, leaving Daryl to stare up at her. Oh, if only I had those eight feet of my father's now, thought she.
  

'It has been a long journey, and I am tired,' she informed him. 'We can talk later; just now, I can hardly think...' A yawn escaped her then, she waved it away, along with Daryl's disclosures. 'I'm having a bath and then I must sleep.'

As she began to take her leave, Daryl reached for her hand.

  'Did you and Athena have a good time?'
  'Sim.'

Josephina bent and kissed Diego on the cheek.
  'Later,' she breathed.

 He let her go and watched as she glided away. He ached to know where she had been and what all she, and Athena, had been doing. Without him.

                                     

   But, his own trespasses and transgressions kept him silent on this.

He knew then that to keep Josephina, he had to let Emlyn ramble free.  Freedom to roam, he knew, was not to be denied for either of them; and in fact, gypsies they were in their truest selves.

  Still, '"A man travels the world in search of what he needs, then returns home to find it."'
  George Moore was right in that, Daryl mused. However...it was never the destination, but the journey that mattered, he knew.

What day was it then? He had no idea; occupational hazard of timewalking. Daryl checked the calendar in surprise: Thursday, March 11. Incredible...the solstice seemed just past and now it was nearly spring.

   The hazards of Timewalking.

'"Thursday's child has far to go..."'

                                                        . . . .

From "A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night" (1973)

Harry Nilsson - It Had To Be You