involvement and urged me to irritate the vessels of the earth, for they distill a strange wine that grows under my hand and covers the whole of heaven. Bacchus says that we should worship this marvel for it provides life. Here the world is broken by mighty winds and voices that cry aloud in a tongue mortal men cannot speak. To the sounds of this primal joy I enter the house of Hathor and offer five jewels upon an altar. The wind sings loudly, so much that all who are there seem entranced and I truly think we are in heaven. Before a statue we kneel and give praise. The sound of a flute haunts the air. Snows are eternal and a strange perfume smokes upward. One night Bacchus broke forth into a monstrous speech that I could not appreciate. I asked to be taught the means of understanding and Bacchus agreed and I willingly embraced the language of heaven. I am glad my king allowed me to come to this wild country of the waning sun. These people rave and howl, they froth out folly. For a time I was afraid of being alone. I dreamed of warm sunsets, bright flowers, and thick vines. But no longer. Here the soul is drunken. Life is full. It slays, and suffices, but never disappoints. • • • I have noticed a strange constant. Everything that turns, naturally turns to the left. Lost people move to the left. Snow swirls to the left. The tracks of the animals in the snow bear to the left. The sea creatures swim in left-banked circles. Flocks of birds approach from a leftward direction. The sun in summer moves all day around the horizon, always from right to left. Youth are encouraged to know their natural surroundings. They are taught how to anticipate a storm or the approach danger, they grow to be aware, at peace with themselves, prepared for life. I joined a trek one day. Hiking is favored but a dangerous pursuit. A good sense of direction and agile feet are needed. I noticed that even when our guide consciously turned right, the sum of his several turns was always left so that, without landmarks, which this land totally lacks, it is almost impossible to avoid returning to your starting point from anywhere but left. Man, bird, and sea creature are integrated. This left-turning mechanism seems entirely subconscious to them all. None of those who inhabit this gray land have any realization of the habit and, when I point out the observation, they simply shrug and smile. • • • Today Bacchus and I visited Adonai, who had been told of my interest in mathematics and architecture. He is a teacher of skills and showed me measuring rods used to both design and construct. To be consistent is to be accurate, I am told. I tell him how the design of the king's chapel at Aachen had been greatly influenced by his students and he was pleased. Instead of being fearful, distrusting, or ignorant of the world, Adonai insists we should learn from what nature created. The contours of the land, the location of underground heat, the angle of the sun, and the sea are all factors considered when locating both a city and a building. Adonai's wisdom is sound and I thank him for the lesson. I am also shown a garden. Many plants are preserved, but many more have perished. Plants are grown indoors in a soil rich with ash, pumice, sand, and minerals. Plants are also grown in water, both from the sea and fresh. Flesh is rarely eaten. I am told it depletes the energy within the body and makes one more susceptible to illness. After eating a diet mainly of plants, with an occasional dish of fish, I have never felt better.
What pleasure to see the sun again. The long winter darkness has ended. The crystal walls come alive with a glitter of colored light. A choir sings a low, sweet, rhythmic chant. The level increases as the sun climbs into a new sky. Trumpets sound the final note and all bow their heads in appreciation of the power of life and strength. The city welcomes the summer season. People play games, attend lectures, visit with one another, and enjoy the Festival of the Year. Each time the central pendulum in the plaza comes to rest, all face the temple and watch as a crystal splashes color across the city. After the long winter, the spectacle is much appreciated. The time of unions arrives and many appear to pledge their love and allegiance. Each accepts a promise bracelet and tells of their pledge to the other. This time brings great joy. To live harmoniously is the goal I am told. But on this occasion three unions required dissolution. Two birthed children and the parents agreed to share responsibility, even though no longer together. The third union refused. Neither wanted the children. So others who had long desired to parent were given the offspring and there was again great joy. • • • I stay in a house where four rooms encircle a courtyard. No windows in any of the walls but the rooms are splendidly lit from above by a crystal ceiling and always remain full of warmth and light. Pipes reach across the city and into every house, like roots trailing on the ground, and bring a never-yielding heat. There are but two rules that govern the house. No eating and no sanitation. The rooms cannot be desecrated by eating, I am told. Meals are taken with everyone in the dining halls. Washing, bathing, and all other sanitation is performed in other halls. I inquire about such rules and I am told that all impure matter is instantly sent from the dining and sanitation halls to the fire that never ends, where it is consumed. That is what keeps Tartarus clean and healthy. The two rules are the sacrifices each person makes for the purity of the city. • • • This gray land is divided into nine Lots, each with a city that radiates from a central plaza, which seems a gathering spot. An Adviser administers each Lot, selected from the people of the Lot through a vote, in which both men and women participate. Laws are enacted by the nine Advisers and inscribed upon the Righteous Columns in the central plaza of each city so that all will know. Solemn agreements are made consistent with the law. Advisers meet once, during the Festival of the Year, in the central plaza of Tartarus, and choose one of their number to be High Adviser. A single rule governs their law: Treat the land and one another as you would want to be treated. Advisers deliberate for the good of all beneath the symbol of righteousness. Atop is the sun, half ablaze in its glory. Then the earth, a simple circle, and the planets represented by a dot within the circle. The cross reminds them of the land, while the sea waves below. Forgive my crude sketch but this is how it appears.
SEVENTY-THREE
STEPHANIE WAS JARRED FROM HER SLEEP BY THE BEDSIDE PHONE.She glanced at the digital clock. 5:10 AM. Davis lay on the other queen bed, also fully clothed, sleeping. Neither of them had even bothered to unmake their bed before lying down.
She snatched up the receiver, listened for a moment, then sat up.'Say that again.'
'The man in custody is named Chuck Walters. We've verified that through fingerprints. He has a record, mostly petty stuff, nothing that relates here. He lives and works in Atlanta. We checked his alibi. Witnesses place him in Georgia two nights ago. No question. We interviewed them all and it checks out.'
She cleared her head. 'Why'd he run?'
'He said a man came charging after him. He's been sleeping with a married woman the past few months and thought it was her husband. We checked with the woman and she confirmed the affair. When Davis approached him, he freaked and ran. When you shot at him he really freaked and tossed the bowling pin. He didn't know what was happening. Then Davis beat the crap out of him. He says he's going to sue.'
'Any chance he's lying?'
'Not that we can see. This guy is no professional assassin.'
'What was he doing in Asheville?'
'His wife threw him out two days ago, so he decided to come up here. That's all. Nothing sinister.'
'And, I assume, the wife confirmed all that.'
'That's what we get paid for.'
She shook her head. Dammit.
'What do you want me to do with him?'
'Let him go. What else?'
She hung up the phone and said, 'It's not him.'
Davis was sitting on the side of his bed. The realization dawned within them both at the same time.
Scofield.
And they rushed for the door.
CHARLIE SMITH HAD BEEN PERCHED IN THE TREE FOR NEARLY AN hour. Winter engulfed the limbs with aromatic resin, the thick needles ideal cover among a cluster of tall pines. The early-morning air was bitingly cold, an abundance of moisture only magnifying his discomfort. Thankfully, he'd dressed warmly and chosen his spot with care.
The show last night inside Biltmore house had been classic. He'd organized the charade with great style and watched as the woman not only took the bait, but swallowed the line, rod, reel, and the whole damn boat. He'd needed to know if he was walking into a trap, so he'd called Atlanta and found the operative, whom he'd employed before on other jobs. His instructions had been clear. Watch for a signal and then draw attention to himself. Smith
