Time and again, human consciousness fixates, and slams the door on its greatest gift, the open-endedness of infinite possibility. As a result, we do not experience reality, but merely our concept of it.
Jose' Arguelles
. . . .
"The wind made those branches and leaves speak to you," Mr. Flores repeated. "For the wind is yours by right."
Dreamily, he glanced through the leaves, his eyes searching beyond the field stretching away in the sun.
"Being a woman enables you to command the wind," he went on. "Women don't know it, but they can have a dialogue with the wind any time."
Florinda Donner
Being-In-Dreaming
. . . .
..::According to the legend recounted in Readings on the Saints, in 1468 a beautiful Celtic mermaid named Asenora swam ashore on the coast of Cornwall where a Benedictine monastery had recently been established. After removing her fishtail and hiding it among the rocks, she explored the area on foot and discovered the community of men. She made many clandestine visits...
Suspicious that Asenora was no ordinary woman but a mermaid, and greatly alarmed by her presence, an Abbott of the monastery hid himself by the water and waited. He witnessed Asenora swim ashore, remove her fishtail and hide it in a niche in the cliff.
When she wandered off in the direction of the Abbey, the shrewd abbot retrieved the fishtail, bundling it into his robe. He tucked it inside a secret compartment hidden under the seat of his chair, in the church. Without her tail, the poor mermaid could never go back to the sea, and soon the wildness of it drained out of her. Asenora was converted, and eventually became St. Senara.
An interesting footnote to the legend states that after her conversion Asenora sometimes missed the sea and her former life so strongly that she prowled the monastery at night in search of her tail. Conflicting stories exist about whether she ever found it. One story suggests she not only found her fishtail but donned it whenever she wanted to revisit her lost life, always returning, however, and replacing it inside the Abbott's chair::..
The Mermaid Chair
Sue Monk Kidd
. . . .
Athena regarded Emlyn with uncommon seriousness.
'If that is how you feel. It is understandable, your wanting to leave here, given such circumstances.'
Emlyn tried again to gather her wits. 'How, what other way is there to feel about such...?' She shook her head, tossing a hand in the air to illustrate the immensity of that startling suchness.
Athena poured more tea for them both. 'You know, when I mentioned earlier that my father belonged to a secret society...I was not altogether joking.'
Em eyed her narrowly, unsure about dipping into such murky waters. 'And, so...what, then?'
'Well, just this,' Athena clarified: 'What we saw in that chest, may not be what you think.'
Em sighed, feeling tired suddenly.
'I saw BONES! Athena, bones! Human, it appeared!' Em shook her head, putting a hand to her forehead and rubbing as if to erase what was within.
'Yes, true.' Athena peered out the window in thought. 'But they were very clean, and white; not old bones, nor very new, either.'
Em sipped at the tea, calming somewhat. 'Yes, I noted that much. But they were quite real. Although, no, the, ah corpus in question wasn't newly kaput.'
'Interesting you used such a word.' Athena mused, 'I was about to say that my father, who was a Freemason, used to keep such bones himself. Many Masons do; the skull, which I will bet is somewhere in that chest, was referred to as the 'caput mortuum'.'
Emlyn eyed Athena with a clearer focus. 'Are you saying that this...bone collection is merely for show? Part of some ritual?'
Athena took an apple from the fruit bowl and began to slice, sliding pieces onto Em's saucer and her own.
'No, not exactly...' She sighed in turn. 'I actually came upon his 'bone collection' as you call it, in much the same way as we just did, here.' She munched a green apple slice, staring at nothing, mind traveling elsewhen.
'I was a curious child; what child is not? We had a large old house, built back in the 1920's. And one night when my parents were out, I was snooping about father's desk and found an odd sort of key, iron and old. I tried it on several keyholes and then I recalled a certain closet within a closet.'
Emlyn was listening intently now, Athena's story echoing her own somewhat. 'Yes? How so?'
'Well, I had noticed before, during earlier snooping forays, that in my father's study was a big closet wherein I had seen a little door on the side wall, with a single keyhole, no other latch or lock. I bethought then, that mayhap I had found the key to that little door at last.'
'You tried the wee door then, didn't you?' Em was certain.
Athena allowed a wry smile. 'Naturally.'
'Well?' Em was not feeling at all patient at the moment.
'Well,' Athena continued, 'The key fit.'
Athena stood then. 'I'm feeling rather peckish...' she turned and rummaged about the breadbox, 'Are there any of Rosa's sourdough buns left...?'
'Athena~!' Em pleaded, scolded.
'Oh, joy, there are!' Athena cried, who then craftily ignoring Em, made free with much slicing and buttering of buns.
'So, anyway, yes, I opened the wee door.' She brought a plate of buns to table, and sat.
'And there,' she continued, 'behind the locked door, in a dark recess, I saw gazing at me, the empty, staring black sockets...of a human skull.' She bit her bun vigorously.
Emlyn set down her tea. 'No.'
'Oh, yes!' Athena applied honey to bun. 'You might imagine my shock! But, I had grown up on horror movies you know, and had ever loved a mystery. An odd little duck I was indeed.' Athena grinned happily.
'Anyway, once I recovered, I noticed that it was set rather ceremoniously upon a polished block of obsidian, and was surrounded by two crossed femurs.'
'Skull and Bones,' Em nodded, her hand straying to buns. 'Like a Jolly Roger.'
'Indeed!' Athena chortled. 'Father was a pirate of sorts; a corporate raider, really,' her voice became mocking. 'Oh, he could pinch a penny til it screamed, that man...' She honeyed-up another slice.
'Sounds like my father as well.' Emlyn now was chewing contentedly as they heaped recriminations upon the heads of the patriarchy and honey upon their buns.
'Do all Masons keep skulls and crossbones in wee closets, then?'
'It is referred to as a Room of Reflection, actually,' Athena clarified. 'And no, not many do. I think my father and his male relations, going back a few hundred years, were high-ranking types, though.'
She stood, and taking the empty dish, washed it and her honeyed hands.
'Anyway, the upshot of it all came later, when I found I couldn't get the wee bloody door to close and lock again! I had to confess my trespass to father, and along with suitable punishment, he did in fact, explain what the symbolism meant so that I would not be so frightened, and to be certain I would swear an oath of silence.'
Emlyn sat in silence, pondering.
'A Room of Reflection. Interesting. To reflect upon one's mortality, I assume?'
Athena gazed outside, noting a lightening of the sky. Could it be a nascent dawn already? A long evening, indeed...
'Just so: "Remember Thou Art Mortal".'
She resumed her seat at table, pouring off the rest of the tea in their cups.
'There are other items one finds in the Room; a candle, a bowl of salt, and of sulfur...transformative chemicals.'
She frowned, 'I can't recall the rest. Oh, an hourglass! And a scythe.' She looked at Em. 'You didn't notice, perhaps, but there was a tall scythe in the corner against the wall.'
'No, I didn't see it, there was so much other dusty stuff...' Em coughed. 'I believe I could use a bath after all that! My lungs, my head, everything feels dusty.'
'That does sound good. You go first,' Athena smiled her way. 'Feeling any better?'
Em arose, sighing. 'Nearly dawn,' She glanced out the window at the pale oyster light. 'Yes, I feel more together, now. But, do you truly think that chest held only...ceremonial items, then?'
'I do,' Athena allowed. 'I wonder, though...' She paused, forefinger tapping table.
'Yes?'
'Well, there remains a mystery still, perhaps. The dirt in that chest, felt more like potting soil than just dust and dirt. And there's this: why was that chest neither covered nor dusty? Everything else had layers of the stuff. It seems unlikely that Daryl would leave it like that, all so...unkempt, if he were aware of that basement room. I do not think he knew of its existence.'
'So, who did?' Em frowned.
'That, is the question.' Athena locked her gaze with Em's.
. . . .
The two women were silent for a time, then Athena stood and stretched. 'So then, have you decided where you will go when you leave here?'
Emlyn was still pondering their conversation and the questions it raised. She leaned her head upon one hand, rubbing her forehead as if it might stir her to inspiration.
'Leave...yes, I suppose I should.' She frowned. Now, where and what, indeed?
'Well,' Athena took up the teapot, rinsing it out and drying. 'I feel I should stay, in case Daryl does show. If not, I think someone should let Raimundo and Sebastiao know that he has gone...before too much time passes. And inquire about, Cup and Box.'
Emlyn's frown intensified. 'Yes. Someone should.'
She leaned head on hand and glanced at Athena's tall straight form as she tidied the kitchen. Em felt like a puddle on the floor...even standing up seemed beyond her just now.
'I hadn't really thought about it,' she confessed. She endeavored to sit up. 'But, yes, you are right, someone should let them know.' She paused. 'Should we return Cup and Box to them, you think?'
Athena hid a small smile. She knew Em wouldn't be leaving, after all.
'Should Daryl actually return...' Em frowned at the thought, 'there's no telling what he would do after finding the Items, and us, gone! No; who knows what roads he has walked all this time? He may be in need of healing, not more stress.'
Emlyn's head began to clear, thank goodness for tea. She had divorced herself from all thought of Daryl of late; it had simply done no good.
She realised that Athena, being more of a friend to Daryl and not on such intimate terms with him, could view his misadventure with more sympathy and compassion than she. To Emlyn, his actions smacked only of self-indulgence and betrayal.
She hadn't learned generous indifference as yet. That would take some space. And a measure of non-attachment.
'Of course,' she allowed. 'I, I should be more concerned about his well-being. I've just felt so...well, abandoned, that I did not wish to think of him at all.'
Athena stood behind her chair, and softly placed warm hands upon her shoulders, gently kneading. Em groaned with relief.
'Understandable.' Athena murmured, relieved not to be in the younger woman's shoes. 'Believe me, cherie, I know Daryl well. He is not an easy friend to have. A certain...distance is required for equanimity.'
Em's head began to droop under Athena's ministrations. She then yawned ferociously.
'Ayyahhhgh!' She yawned again. 'I think I could sleep now. How about you?'
'I think I am asleep, and sleepwalking even now,' Athena yawned behind her hand.
'Let us to bath and bed, then,' Emlyn stood and gazed blearily about. 'Get a few hours sleep. Then, perhaps? -- Another trip to the Village of Sopa and Fog?'
'Sim.' Athena patted her shoulder smiling. 'I do so love a good soup.'
. . . .
Some hours later, refreshed, they were on their way, with Manuel acting as equerry and driver once more.
The day was clear for a change. Spring would be giving way to summer soon; that golden, dry grass scent encroached upon the green, but freshness of dew still hovered in the air. They kept windows open slightly to enjoy the scintilla'd flickering scenery and breathed deeply of new spring leaves stretching toward that generous radiance of summer to come.
All thoughts of the drear and dismal night before were banished in the clear blaze of day. Emlyn began to warm to this impromptu journey.
'So,' Em began, comfortably shifting lower in her seat beside Athena, 'your father was a philosopher, then?'
Athena laughed aloud, a low gut-based guffaw seemingly at odds with her silvery etherealness. 'He was indeed! If by philosopher you are describing a consummate bullshit artist.'
Em began a laugh, but was speechless for a moment.
Athena continued, '...Note that the term is 'BULLshit', not 'cowshit'. It is reserved exclusively to and for males.'
'But, surely Plato, Pythagoras...the Greeks gave us the foundation of reasoning, the trivium, seven liberal arts...'
'Oh, goddess spare me reason, rhetoric and grammar,' Athena leaned her silver head against the seat back. She sighed. 'A useful tool for pragmatic debate. Life being finite, however, I prefer listening to poets than pontificating politicians...
'Our greatest poet, Shakespeare, ventured far and wide round about any grammatical fences; English language at the time was more poetic, more musical, more in league with the old chivalrous lays of the troubadours than with the musty crusty ego-based mental masterbations of the old philosophers, so called.'
Her face wore a wry grin, 'Save me from the "face-huggers of literalism".'
Em found her voice. 'That's a new one. Face-huggers?'
'Ah, yes. From an old film about horrifying creatures from space, as men always bethought them. A sort of anemone-crablike thing that would attach itself to one's face...'
Em put a hand up. 'I don't think I need to see this particular celluloid of yours. But, it does convey the idea rather graphically!' She frowned.
'Why so much horror and monster ideas for films, though? Why imagine the awfulness of a thing? Why not something beautiful, something uplifting? Men's imaginations leave much to be desired, especially in your time.'
Athena looked at her. 'Indeed.' She settled back onto a pillowed corner of the coach, facing Emlyn.
'I believe it is due to the fact that the great unknown presents itself to men always as a threat to the ego. The male ego is, you must admit, primary and primal to the creatures. Exceedingly fragile,' she sighed.
'Most are ruled by thought alone, which is the curse of intellect. Note this is not intelligence. Men are handicapped in being unable to perceive beyond the five senses,' she paused. 'Ah, usually.'
Athena stretched out her long legs, crossing ankles and arms.
'Women, however, are closer to the natural world and to animals, and feel quite free to dream and disport themselves in other realities without conceiving a constant threat. Note I say: "conceiving", not "perceiving".
'Men are unable to conceive a thing without thinking it to death. Most, as I say, are unable to perceive. Therefore, much more is 'unknown' to them; and whatever is unknown is perforce, a threat.'
A soft chuckle, then a guffaw.
'What?' asked Emlyn, turning half a small smile toward Athena, who was laughing to herself. 'Do share.'
'Oh, I can't help but catch myself sounding like an anthropology lecture on an early species of homo rejectus.' She shook her head slowly, then leaned against the seat back, glancing at Em.
'I love men, you know I do! I just feel some, perhaps many, in my time at least, are not at all like the friends and brothers that I know! They do not like these Others, either, or those evil bastards who sold us out to them, sold out their own people! Incredible stupidity, if nothing else...' Athena closed her eyes, shaking her head.
At last she opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. She sighed.
'Some, you know them...poets, artists, musicians, and true magicians, even mathematicians! are our true brothers. Math and music, complement each other.
'We, however, are lucky, I suppose, to be able to feel and intuit the world around us, and otherworlds as well. Women have a sense of knowing about life. They are open to perception. Men are not. Many men are hampered by this handicap, and are forced to think and analyze. It is a pity.' She gazed seaward. 'And, it nearly destroyed the planet.'
'Because men had all the power,' Emlyn chimed in. 'All the money, military might.'
'And your Greek philosophers and Roman lawmakers, not to mention the heavy whip of the Church of Rome, helped to bind the world to their fear-based doctrine of so-called reason and dogma,' Athena sighed, staring out the window.
The coach rattled along, and the two friends enjoyed the silence as their road drew closer to the bay side. Emlyn inhaled deeply.
'Ahh...smell that sea air!' Her face was enraptured as if in the arms of a lover. 'I feel I am finally coming alive again.'
'You know...' Athena was still on a roll, 'there was a certain theory, the aquatic ape theory or hypothesis, that early humans evolved from a more aquatic based mammal than the dry land ape so beloved of Darwinism.'
Emlyn looked at her friend. 'I concur! Completely.' Emlyn returned her gaze to the seascape. 'I have always only felt at home in the water...I have to be near it, at least.' She sighed. 'No wonder I have not felt like myself.'
'True.' Athena smiled. 'We are mermaids, too long from the sea.'
'Yes.' Emlyn agreed. '...The wind and the water. Wind and sea...windandsea...hmm.' Emlyn closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, drifting and dreaming as the coach rattled along the coast road; a liquid, flowing sort of dream of turquoise and green, shot round with cobalt blue, turning slow indigo, and there, at the center, a mermaid queen...
'When I read Peter Pan as a child, I always wanted to be a mermaid.'
'I wanted to be Peter.' Athena grinned. 'Or crew with Capt'n Hook...or, why not BE Capt'n Hook?'
'That sounds good, too.' Emlyn opened her eyes, gazing out to the sea of blue. She frowned. 'I never wanted to be Wendy, though. Who would? She just gets left behind to do the washing up, or whatever.'
'True. Wendys only enable Peters though.' Athena continued, 'If Peters had to pick up after themselves...'
'--"It would never get done!"' Both women caroled in unison, laughing.
'Usually very true.' Emlyn stated. 'Although I have known a couple of men who were able to keep it together about the house. Not usually true of bachelors though.'
Em sat up and leaned out the window.
'Athena!' She poked her head back in the coach. 'It isn't foggy! And, look -- we are nearly to the village!'
Athena stared intently ahead. 'My stars...yes! There is the harbor!' She pointed to the right. 'I don't believe I have ever actually seen the marina or docks before!'
'No...' Em agreed. 'It has always been fogged in. Oh let's do take a stroll about! This will be the first time visiting that I will be able to see the place!' Emlyn leaned farther out her window and accosted Manuel. 'Stop at the docks, Manuel! We will have lunch there.'
Soon the three of them were sauntering down the wooden plankways lining the harbor. A busy day today, it seemed; fishermen mending nets, hauling in catch, cleaning it for market, some selling fresh off the boat. Taffy and roasted peanut stands sprouted along the docks, saltwater and fried fish smells vied, Cthulhu-like rounds of calimari sizzled in olive oil and garlic, seabirds called, sea lions barked, Elder Gods gibbered in muddy depths below, all added to harbor ambiance. Emlyn felt right at home. She even thought she heared someone call her name...
'Emlyn, isn't that Sebastiao?' Athena was pointing seaward, toward a handsome yacht upon which stood two men, frantically calling and waving their arms.
The friends proceeded to the edge of the dock and waved back. 'He does have a boat, he mentioned,' Emlyn recalled. 'Halloo! Sebastiao! Is that Raimundo with you?'
'Emlyn! Athena!' Sebastiao cried back, 'Come! This way,' he was walking to the prow of the ship. 'Here, there is a stairway down to us, see?' He pointed to the corner stairs leading to the boat ramp below.
'So.' Sebastiao was smiling, his moustaches stretched wide as he welcomed them aboard ship. 'Welcome to la Catarina!' He took their hands aiding them, as they leapt aboard onto the polished wooden deck.
'This is a surprise.' Raimundo looked at Emlyn somewhat sideways, although a small smile touched the corners of his mouth.
'It is,' Emlyn began. 'We have news. Is there, somewhere we may talk?' She cast about for a bench...
Sebastiao ushered them amidships, 'You caught us just before we pushed off.' He shot a look to Raimundo, who appeared to be in deep thought.
'Ah. And what is your heading today?' Athena hadn't missed the tension hovering about this impromptu meeting either, but she played this lightly, hoping for some clarification to come.
'--Mexico!' Raimundo pulled over some wooden crates for themselves while indicating covered chests for their guests. He took a seat across from them. '--by tonight.'
He sighed, 'SOME time, tonight...'
Emlyn and Athena looked at one another.
'We'll make this short, then,' she tried to hide her disappointment in finding their meeting would not be the leisurely discourse she had hoped.
'In brief...Daryl, Diego, has disappeared. Gone.'
'Gone.' Raimundo frowned. 'How do you mean?'
'It was...a spell.' Emlyn looked down, clutching her hands. She knew that Raimundo and Sebastiao were both aware of the absence of her emerald engagement ring.
'He, he said he did not wish to use Cup and Box any longer, and he had purchased a sword, an espada, from Damascus...'
'A Damascene steel blade? Truly?' Sebastiao's eyes glinted.
Em's gaze met his greedy one. 'Yes. A real one. From two Musselmen from Toledo, Spain.'
Sebastiao and Raimundo exchanged studied glances.
'Go on,' urged Raimundo, leaning forward.
'Well,' Em continued, 'Diego used this sword in doing ceremony. He had asked me to go with, but at the last minute I could not. The spell, it was...' she shook her head, '-- terrifying. There was, lightning, sparks -- shooting out all about him!
'And then, when I could bear no more, I went to take hold of him, pull him back, and...he was gone -- nothing! Nothing remained!'
'That was...nearly four months ago now,' Athena clarified. 'He has not returned. No sign of him.'
'We thought you should know,' Emlyn bit her lip, anxious. 'What shall be done with Cup and Box?'
Raimundo shook his head, then slapped his hands upon his knees, standing. 'It never rains but pours!' He looked upon them and seemed to come to a decision then.
Pacing before them, he addressed his guests:'We had planned to use this fine day with fair winds to make wake south and to meet up with Alice south of the border, tonight.'
'Alice!' Emlyn jumped up. 'Why, what is happening with her?'
But Raimundo was shaking his head, one hand up as if warning her back. 'No. No time now. We must be off.' He was walking toward the hatch to below decks.
Em looked at Athena. 'I'm going.'
She nodded to Manuel. 'Take Athena home, Manuel. I have to go on...south.' Her eyes went to Athena's then.
She took Athena's hands. 'Do you mind? Will you, can you wait for Daryl there at the house while I am gone?'
Athena nodded. 'Of course. IF he shows, what should I tell him?'
Emlyn thought but a moment. 'The truth. Tell him we waited as long as we could for him. And, that I am headed to Mexico to meet with Alice.' Her gaze then claimed Sebastiao's. 'If, of course, the capitan agrees.'
Sebastiao sighed. 'Naturally, I agree. But, let the capitan confer a minute with the first mate...' he grinned slightly as he headed down the hatch after Raimundo.
'Are you sure, Em?' Athena asked, studying her friend.
'I have waited years, long and long, to see, have news of Alice again!' Em was pleading. 'I must go!'
Just then, Sebastiao's head appeared above the hatch. He smiled and raised a hand with the 'thumbs-up' salute.
Emlyn turned back to Athena, with a tight smile. 'Well, it seems, I am off to Mexico!'
..............
It seemed a short ride back to the City, Athena thought. Her head was crammed with reams of new information yet to be processed somehow. So much so, that she felt quite numb. 'It's all just too much,' she told herself.
First Daryl disappears, literally. Then she discovers a secret passage in Nob Hill House, leading to a basement of bones. Then just when they are off on a jaunt to visit friends, Emlyn decides to leave for Mexico. With Raimundo and Sebastiao!
And not poor Athena? She smiled, as she questioned herself. Oh no. I envy young Em not at all. In fact, I am rather more involved in all of this than I would like to be. She leaned her head on her hand, feeling tired now.
Ah well. Things change. She had learned that much, had Wisdom.
She was glad she and Manuel had stayed on in the village for lunch, watching Em and the men set sail from their window seat at the cafe dockside.
Little did she know that this small tableau, which now played out as Emlyn was borne away on the winds of fate -- echoed a similar scenario, whereupon Em had seen Alice off to South America with Raimundo, back when he was still Alejandro.
Athena's head was still tiredly swimming with these reminisces
and other conundrums as they drove onto the familiar streets of the City; now become tame after gold fever had been cured when the mines played out. The Barbary Coast of yore had given way to developers and merchants instead of more gaming, drinking and other saloon operations.
Athena for one, was glad of the quieter streets at night.
She'd not mind spending her time here at Daryl's place. She preferred being there when he was not, truth be told.
As much as she adored her young magician and protector, she found short visits to be much preferable...perhaps she was feeling her age, she admitted, hoping for nothing more tonight than a hot bath and bed.
Bidding Manuel goodnight as he drove the coach to the livery, Athena exhaled a sigh of relief as she shut the front door behind her. At last! Home alone...
Her senses were on the alert, however, when she thought she heard sounds within. 'Rosa? Is that you?' Athena called, although Rosa was supposedly still visiting her sister in Los Angeles.
Hoping that Manuel would be along soon, Athena slowly, and she hoped, quietly, padded her way into the kitchen...no one there. Onward to the parlor then, but no, no sign of a soul here.
Bracing herself, she then picked up a poker by the hearthside and softly crept down the hallway to the study. Grasping the poker above her head and clutching the door handle, she suddenly flung it open hard.
'Good gods!' Daryl cried, as Athena gasped out a stunned, 'Diosa!
Daryl was standing just inside the study entrance.
'Athena!' He rubbed his forehead, looking dazed, then reached for her hand, the one wielding the poker aimed at him. 'I, it is good to see you, too.'
'Daryl!' Was all that Athena could say.
'Here, cara, won't you, have a seat?' Daryl led Athena to the sofa before the fireplace, gently releasing the poker from her hand.
'I, was just going to make a small fire for the evening...' He seemed to be as confused as she.
'Daryl.' She stared at him as though he were a ghost.
He realized this finally. And sat beside her, giving up his dithering about the hearth. 'I am here.'
Athena closed her eyes, opened them. 'Daryl. Do you know, how long you have been gone?'
He didn't. He'd just, arrived. To find an empty house... 'It seems, rather later in the, spring?' he asked, hopefully.
'It is, not quite summer. About four months past, you went missing, Daryl.' She frowned at him. 'We, Emlyn and I, feared you weren't coming back.'
Time travels different roads, and at its own pace, thought Daryl.
'To me, I only just left here. What, last night?' He rubbed his chin. 'I need to shave...'
Athena sighed heavily. She felt exhausted suddenly.
'Do you mind?' She stretched out across the sofa, putting her feet in his lap.
'Like Math ab Mathony's footholder, shall I be unto you, Athena.' Daryl's eyes were closed and it was hard to tell if he was laughing inside or not.
'Now isn't the time, child.' Athena was weary indeed. 'Do you know what you put us though? Emlyn has given up on you, you know.'
'She should.' Daryl nodded, taking off Athena's shoes and holding her feet between warm hands. Athena sighed...he knew just how to placate her.
'Yes! She should!' Athena raised herself slightly, then Daryl began to gently massage her aching feet. 'Ooohh...'
Athena again lay prone and began to groan softly.
All was quiet then, for a space, whilst Daryl worked another kind of magic upon his mentor and friend.
'You should have turned your aspirations toward healing. You have a gift there,' Athena told him, keeping her eyes closed, preferring to focus on the moment. 'Why are you not a shaman? You would make the perfect wounded healer like Chiron.'
'I haven't the patience,' he grinned evilly at her. 'Except for you.'
'Oh, Daryl...' Athena moaned at the awful pun. 'Unfair of you.' She managed to shake a tired librarian finger at him.
'You have put us all through a bit much.'
Daryl worked his massage magic, head down in concentration. 'And, Emlyn then?'
Athena opened one eye. 'I shouldn't say a word.' Shut it. 'And just where have YOU been?'
'Suffice it to say, I have been with your sister, Thelene. And Axelis. And Yeats, also. Alone, I was not. And, I have returned safely, if a bit tardily.' Hm. Four months, he thought. Rather longer than he had hoped...
Silence, for a time.
Athena sighed, softly now. 'Emlyn, is gone.'
'That, I can see.' Daryl ceased his rubbing.
More silence. Daryl sighed.
'She, is gone to Mexico,' Athena finally confessed.
'Mexico?!' Daryl stood, dropping Athena's legs. 'When? How?'
Athena curled herself into a comfortable ball in the sofa corner, frowning. 'Just now, actually. We had finally decided we needed to do something about your disappearance and tell Raimundo you were no longer protector of the Hallows.'
Daryl sat again, frowning. 'How...but, Mexico? How...?'
' -- By ship,' Athena replied, eyes still shut. 'Sebastiao's yacht, in fact. With Raimundo. They went to meet Alice, in Mexico, apparently. That's all I know.' Athena yawned, intent upon sleep.
'But, I don't understand...any of this!' Daryl stood again, raking hands through hair, and began pacing.
'Aaargh!' Athena sat up. 'I cannot sleep around your fractiousness! I am going to bed! And I do not wish to be disturbed until morning!'
The little bugger had stirred this pot up, let him stew in it! Athena had had enough of him as she stalked out of the library, leaving the door ajar.
Daryl watched her leave, glad only that she was here with him still, tonight, and hadn't deserted him as well.
He grabbed the poker that Athena had been carrying and hefted it, thinking...or actually, trying not to think. He did not feel comfortable following his thoughts now; oh, especially not now...now that his 'wings were clipped', as Thelene had so helpfully put it; he was grounded, yes. And, separated from much. Icarus had hit the dirt.
But, he had decided to stay in the here and now, San Francisco of the 19th century. And a large part of that decision had been based on Emlyn; upon her being here, and now.
Only...she was not.
Indeed. She was not here, not now. No. She was there: headed to Mexico on Sebastiao's yacht...with Sebastiao. And with Raimundo.
And Daryl grounded. Here. Now.
For good.
..........................
CLICK BELOW TO LISTEN:
Robert Plant Alison Krauss Polly Come Home
Polly Come Home
song by Gene Clark
If the wild bird could speak
He'd tell of places you have been
He's been in my dreams
And he knows all the ways of the wind
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I felt much of the pain
As it begins
Dreams cover much time
Still they leave blind the will to begin
I searched for you there
And now look for you from within
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I felt much of the pain
As it begins
Polly, come home again
Spread your wings to the wind
I felt much of the pain
As it begins
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