Tricksters Touch

word. While Mattermat and Rimble had quarreled, she sat in utter stillness. Now that an accommodation for her was being made in the world of Mnemlith, she responded by appearing to all present on the Great Library grounds. Universalima wore white furs and a crown of gold, her dark skin and dark hair startling against the white of her furs. Like Rimble and Troth, Universalima was a resident of Neath. She was also a resident of Speakinghast. Rowenaster's jaw dropped. He could barely say the word that came to his stunned lips. «Sirrefene?» Master Curator Sirrefene smiled at the open-mouthed crowd in front of her. «Yes. It's me. The real Sirrefene died some years ago. Gadorian had been sweet on Sirrefene since childhood. Before he was able to ask the real Sirrefene to marry him, she contracted Hatter's Disease from a Jinnjirri hat she bought here in the city. She died from it.» Turning to Rowenaster, Universalima said, «This was before the fateful 'affair' with the Jinn artist. See, I was the libertine. Not Sirrefene. Not that I slept with the man, mind you. But I was different in temperament than the good guildmaster family's daughter. People felt that and thought what they wished, but I digress. Anyway, at the time of Sirrefene's death, Gadorian was so distraught, he tried to kill himself. I appeared to him before he was able to do so. I offered him peace. I have remained by his side ever since that day. He has forgotten the real Sirrefene's death. He doesn't know who he lives with.» Janusin spoke for the first time now. «No wonder you wanted me to do all those statues of your family.» He paused. «Why did you cancel the contract for the Panthe'-kinarok Series?» «I didn't. Gadorian did. I like your work, Master Janusin.» Janusin blushed. «Shame I only got to do one statue, then.» Universalima laughed. «You've made one more, I believe.» «You have?» asked Barlimo, who like everyone else was dressed for winter with woolens and mufflers in layers around her neck. «Where is it, Jan?» Janusin shuffled his feet in the snow. «Well, I hid it in the Great Library Maze. It was just a small thing, really—» «But, oh so exquisite,» replied Universalima. «And it helped, you know. It helped bring the two of them together. Art does that. You create an accommodation on the plane of imagination and eventually it will find its way into manifest reality.» Tree turned to Janusin. «What in the world did you create, Jan?» «I made a tiny statue of Kelandris and Zendrak kissing. She was so upset when Zendrak died that I thought I would try to immortalize their love for each other in stone. Something romantic like that.» «Well, it worked,» said Universalima. There was a short pause. Fasilla stared at the master curator turned Greatkin. «You've been in this city all along?» «Yes, dears,» said Themyth. «She has. Only we've all been making so much noise, who's had time to listen to the Greatkin of Peace? Much less recognize her,» added the crone drily. Timmer let out a big sigh. «How you could stand living with that lout, Gadorian, is beyond me.» Universalima inclined her head. «Everyone deserves peace. Even guildmasters.» «And the city?» asked Rowenaster. «Does it deserve peace, too?» «That will be up to you. All of you. With the return of the Mythrrim, you may again learn the ways of peace. If you do, this city will know a great flowering. Out of the worst winter will come the perfumed bloom.» «No problem,» said Trickster. «The winterbloom is growing in the Feyborne Mountains again. So is Kelandris.» He grinned. «I keep telling 'em patience. Keep telling all the worlds that. Everything comes in its own time. Especially civilizations,» he added with a naughty wink at Greatkin Themyth. She blushed. Kindra cleared her throat. Calling all the other Mythrrim to form a perfect circle around her, she said to Podiddley and the rest of the Mayanabi in the crowd, «What is your purpose?» «To serve the Presence.» «By doing what?» «By keeping remembrance.» «And how do we do that?» «By keeping kinhearth among ourselves. By lighting the candles for all. By including all. By loving all.» Kindra nodded her ugly head. «And so we end this tale by beginning a new Mythrrim. It will be called the Mythrrim of Universalima. And you will have to tell it among yourselves. You may start now.» Panthe'kinarok Epilogue Greatkin Mattermat slouched in his chair. He didn't want to admit it, but he was desperately glad to see Rimble again. The weight of his own gravity and inertia had almost overwhelmed him. Now he knew how the mortals felt when they spiraled downward into entropy and procrastination. Mattermat poured himself another glass of wine, his hand shaking. When Rimble finally made his reappearance at the table, his smile victorious, the rest of the family—all save Mattermat—got to their feet and cheered. Trickster sidled over to Mattermat and asked, «You still holding a grudge?» Mattermat shrugged. «Not exactly.» «Yeah? Well, that avalanche of snow in the Feyborne was convincing. You nearly buried my friend, Podiddley.» «Well, you were rubbing it in, Rimble. Singing that stupid song. You deserved to be buried.» Rimble considered the situation from Mattermat's perspective. «I can see how you might think that.» «I did think that.» Rimble sighed. «Miss me?» Mattermat rolled his eyes. «Maybe.» Trickster grinned. Announcing to the rest of the family, he said, «Mattie missed me.» Mattermat put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. His expression was dour. Trickster whispered something in the big fellow's ear. Mattermat's face immediately brightened. «Really?» Mattermat asked Rimble. «Yup.» «What?» asked Jinndaven uneasily as he watched this interchange. Mattermat smiled secretly and wouldn't say a word. Greatkin Themyth, who was looking younger and younger by the hour, pointed her cane at Rimble and said, «Tell, Rimble. Tell us what you're hatching.» Trickster looked at Mattermat. «Think we should tell them?» Mattermat shrugged. «It's up to you.» Trickster grinned. «I'm pregnant.» There was a long silence. «By who?» asked Themyth, her voice indignant. Rimble smiled. «An obstinate woman.» Jinndaven started swearing. «You can't get pregnant by a woman, Rimble. It doesn't go that way!» «Rimble-Rimble,» said Trickster. Afterword Trickster as Transmitter of Mystical Teaching by Arifa Goodman In stories, legends, myths and dreams spanning all cultures and all traditions, there is one figure who is ubiquitous: Trickster. There's no mystery in this figure's popularity and appeal; we all need a little comic relief, a break from the serious and often agonizing dramas that unfold throughout life. And if Trickster comes along and mocks or pokes fun at the Hero of the story (with whom we certainly identify, whether that Hero is the protagonist of a story or the leading character in our own life), we are bound to feel some relief at the resulting deflation, excruciating as it may be. Sometimes, the Hero is the Trickster, and the story, or life, becomes one long, circuitous misadventure of the absurd. When we're through laughing (or frowning in indignation), we may scratch our heads in perplexity and bewonderment, and marvel at Life itself which not only allows, but is rooted in paradox. For Life always does manage, sooner or later, to defy our most precious intentions, expectations, and conceptions. It is just this paradoxical quality of Life that suggests a more profound role for the Trickster figure, quite aside from the comic relief—a role which no other character can play. In fact, it is Trickster who can bring us face to face with the truths which the mystics and prophets describe. Trickster embodies an understanding which is beyond words or explanations or logical thinking, and so the reality of the ineffable comes to us direct. Trickster might shock us, might outrage us, might tickle or amuse us; however it happens, we'll be knocked right out of the familiar and comfortable perspectives and assumptions that we all have about ourselves and the nature of this life. Suddenly, somehow things appear differently than they had before. Trickster actually embodies several different types of characters, and all of them can be catalysts for catapulting us to a new level of understanding. Trickster can appear as a Fool, a Magician, a Deceiver or, at the very deepest level, a Madzub. As Fool, Trickster can show a simplicity and naivete almost beyond belief, or can exemplify the height of vanity. With no sense of societal mores, no conception of good and evil, the Fool is purely instinctual, driven mostly by appetites and desires. So as the Fool wanders through life, getting in trouble, finding a way out of trouble, getting hooked again by his or her vain desires, we can see our own foolishness reflected. We too are led—indeed, ruled—by our vanity and our self-interest. We fall, get hurt, suffer pain. We moan and lament, and say, «Oh, why did this happen to me?» and then we'll get caught again by our vanity and appetites. When we laugh at the Fool, we are laughing at the fool that our little ego-self is. Trickster as Magician shows us the ephemeral, transitory nature of Life. The Magician questions the consensus view of reality. Rather than seeing only what appears on the surface, the Magician will peer beyond the veils of this illusory world. By accepting ambiguity and rejecting a static view of the world, he or she can, at an elemental level, catalyse change, mutation, transformation, which is why Trickster is called «shape-shifter.» Thus, things will appear differently than we thought they were. We'll think we are here, and we are there; we'll expect a certain outcome of our well-laid plans, and something entirely different will happen; we'll be locked in a certain perspective, and a hole will be blown through it revealing a new way of looking. And all the while, Trickster will be laughing at our feeble attempts to make sense of it all within the framework of conventional human comprehension. If we can manage to let go of our logic and see Life through Trickster's eyes, we will find ourselves in a different world—the magical realm of Creativity—where the unexpected and the unpredictable are allowed to emerge out of the rigid structures of a sclerosed mentality. It takes a certain audacity to defy 'the facts' or 'the rules' and give birth to a fresh, novel approach to Life and to ourselves. It is in the role of Deceiver that Trickster's trickery comes into full play, and it is through this aspect that we can be led into the inner sanctum of the Great Mystery of Life where, to our utter astonishment, our eyes are finally opened and we behold … the Grand Hoax! For, as mystics of all traditions have been telling us throughout the ages, this Life isn't what we think it is; we aren't who we think we are; and God isn't who we think «He» (or «She») is. It is here that Trickster shows himself or herself to be the quintessential mystical guide, but very few seekers will follow Trickster to the depths he or she leads us to. Most often we valiantly resist all challenges to our established notions and conceptions; we don't want to get thrown into the chaos of uncertainty; we won't risk stepping off the edges of the