slide down and fill up the troughs until all is level grey death grey
death level death . . ,
Then shrieks of laughter pierced my dull mind. Fainey-Juveh
was holding Praliya’s hands, they talking quietly. We three looked
up towards the antechamber where we had left our softsuits. In the
doorless arch little Pixr faced us, herself arched back with childish
hips stuck forward, hung like a warhorse with a bejewelled metal
codpiece clumsily strapped on her, making believe to piss like a boy
into the plumed helmet that Limini with slight embarrassment and
much mirth was holding out. ‘Pssssss,’ said Pixr clutching her giant
platinum phallus, ‘pssss, pssssssss.’ Shrieked with laughter, mouth
stretched to let it out and teeth and teeth and teeth, eyes slitted,
head almost falling off backwards. Limini bubbling, watching us a
little.
From out of death I doubled up and laughed and wept laughter.
And Fainey-Juveh and Praliya choking-chuckling, saying ‘Oh no,
oh no, oh no.’ The anchorage of my diaphragm beneath my ribs
hurt with the violence of laughing. Until we were gasping and I saw
Fainey-Juveh’s eyes and he mine and we broke out again, and Pixr
the pisser pissing and pissing into the king’s ceremonial hat until it
was full and overflowing and no longer quite so hilarious and we
laughing with tortured sides at the memory of laughter. Gasping
and gasping.
On the way back through the silent magnificent (oh, it was, after
all) tomb-palace, but Limini and Pixr irrepressible, I said, ‘I’ll try
and call Kolissa, if I may.’
‘I was going to suggest it,’ he said.
I placed the call without difficulty, excepting the incredible
delays. Nature and reasons for communication? Personal greeting
to contractual spouse following three month absence from
Otzapoc. (Wait, cup of coffee, attempts at conversation.) Reason
for absence? To collect funds held by friend on Greenball. (Wait.)
Call permitted. Hi Kolissa, love. (I felt strange.) How was she? I
was fine, staying with some real nice people, with a ride down
already arranged when it became possible. I spoke of Orry and
Fiormaria. I said I loved her. I spoke of incidental things. And
then, goodbye, all my love always. The message fled away on the
tardy wings of light.
Later — oh, later, another eon for Sesemene’s shell to endure in
Jagging
225
serenity while I waited — a reply came. Kolissa’s voice. She was
fine, a bit bored with the work. So O rry and Fior were dug in on
Greenball. Would they ever leave the place? She herself had lived
the cloistered life in my absence. The hospital people were nice,
good fun, mostly. She was well, never better. She loved me, couldn’t
wait for my return, loved me. And goodbye. We had said nothing of
revolution or archaeology.
From then on I could not sit still. Pacing from room to room at
his luxurious camp. Playing chess with himself. Talking flippantly
or philosophically with Praliya. And fooling around, teasing, horsing with Limini and Pixr. Oh, their Great Walls of China teeth!
Pacing and wanting, reading late at night and wanting, wanting
Kolissa. But who said Jahenry couldn’t pull off a civilised bloodless
coup — and Berlit get a villa in Terengay for his not compulsory
but highly recommended retirement? W'here had all those hel-
meted booted black-goggled gun-packing rapists come from? I felt
slightly ashamed.
The day came a week and a half later when Praliya, Limini and
Pixr all kissed me goodbye, Pixr in tears and me promising to try
very hard to get back to see them bringing Kolissa, me warmed by
this love and the love I was returning to, and Fainey-Juveh flipping
Sleezy and me round Trivash’s slagball to the freighter. Then up
and away, the old joy pum ping through my veins, the old jagging
joy, joy of the jag, another world dropping away beneath me
(Limini and Pixr, Praliya and strange Claudian Fainey-Juveh, will
I never see you again?) (Sesemene I’ll not regret, but you’ll be with
me always), Kolissa, Pm coming back at last . . .
Jag on .
