“Where are you sneaking off to?” Snake wasn’t at the table when I walked past it. I turn around to see him sitting quite calmly and still with his feet propped up on a low foot stool.
“I’m not sneaking.”
He smiled. “Going to finish it?”
“Yes. If I wait too much longer either the summons will become compulsory or more shit will distract me.”
“Still afraid?”
“Terrified.” I thought on his wording. “You’re certain I’m going to finish it?”
Snake said nothing. He only smiled and sorted through some papers on the table. The busyness of his hands reminded me of the urge to keep my own busy. I take the beads from my pocket and place them on the shelves. Snake watches, but says nothing.
I check myself. Awesome new boots of awesomeness. Snug pants tucked into knee-high boots. Belt. Trinket chain? Interesting which trinkets are showing. Shirt. Mess coat. Full coat. Personal bling. Cornrow braids. Hat. I have always had a weakness for military dress, even before I was military myself.
“Your ass does not look fat. Stop.” Snake placed the papers down and stood up. “I’m ready when you are.”
“No. You’re not coming with me. I have to finish this alone.” I looked him over and smiled. “But you knew that already. I just had to confirm it.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I decided. Not you.” I gave him a hug. “Thanks for getting the fish for the lotus bowl, by the way. Leave me some coffee, will ya? I might need a keg or two when I get back.”
I was stretching out the time with the banter and I knew it. My stomach turned in terrible fear but I forced myself to remain calm. I may have a weakness for military dress but I have earned what I am wearing. I will not betray it.
I don’t know why I feel like I’m saying ‘goodbye’ for the last time to Snake. Why I feel like I’m going to my death. As if regardless if I am successful and able to answer Lord Asmodel’s summons or not, I will be irrevocably changed and the Weaver that returns will be nothing like the Weaver that left. I reflect on the few times in this life I have felt the same impending destruction. The memories do nothing to settle my stomach and I force my mind blank.
I pull the Thoth Hierophant card from my pocket. “Open the way to the Path of Vau, that I may proceed!” The character in the card turns his hand in the same gesture as turning a key. There is a flash of light followed by the dissolution into darkness.
…
I am not.
But I know I am.
And in the reflection, on the threshold between Being and Not Being, is me.
I become solid. The sharp tack of boots on stone echo upward from my feet. The sound wraps around me and reshapes me. I am surprised I became solid so quickly. I question if I have returned to the Path of Vau. I look behind me and see the tower of Chesed. A gate has been erected at the entryway to the path. I can not enter.
I look forward and see only the darkness of the Abyss. Well, the stone of the bridge is the same color as the Abyss itself… I lift my foot to take a step… and place it back down. No. Something is wrong here. I stand still, at attention, focus my sight on infinity, and wait.
My eyes adjust. I see movement. Something floating off to my right. But I do not look at it. I remain staring at nothing. Another something. And another. I start to discern the black of the stone from the black of the Abyss. Once my eyes adjust, I look around. My face wrinkles as I grimace.
The bridge is in pieces.
The pieces are floating randomly.
The only piece of bridge that is fixed, is the piece I am standing on. It is fixed to the tower of Chesed. Everything else is floating above and below and to the sides. None of the pieces are close enough to jump between. The shattered pieces float about for as far as my eyes can see. I do not have my wings. There is no way forward.
“No. There is a way forward.” I speak to reassure myself, and to use the echoing sound to gauge distances. “Crossing the Abyss is about transcending limitations, right? Then let me leave my sense of human limits behind.” I looked at the closest piece. It was floating ten feet away and six feet above me. I will to step there. I stepped forward, stepping off the fixed piece.
In the blink of an eye I was transported to my targeted piece, my moving foot planting firmly on the floating surface. I turned to see where I was. The fixed piece remained firmly against the tower of Chesed. I looked forward, and sighed deeply. So much for being clever.
Where the intact bridge only had one direction the traveler could take, the floating pieces were scattered all about the Abyss. The only reference I had for direction was the tower of Chesed. If I moved three pieces in any direction, the tower would be out of view. Without some sort of landmark or compass, I would quickly be lost in the Abyss.
I moved to another floating piece and turned around. The tower of Chesed was already gone from my sight. Somehow I knew I would not be able to retrace my steps. There was as many floating pieces between me and the tower as there was between me and the Crowned and Throned figure. No, this was not going to work. I needed to find another way.
I needed to see another way.
A realization blanches me. No. I don’t need to see another way. I need to not see. I am looking with human eyes. “I know I wanted to know what faith is, I didn’t expect to have such a hands-on lesson.” Another deep breath to calm myself. I come to the edge of the piece. There are no pieces below me to land on if I fall.
“I will to proceed!”, I announce to the empty darkness of the Abyss. I close my eyes and step out as if expecting the bridge to be present. It is a military step. Regardless if I fall or not, I will not falter.
My foot lands on a hard surface. I do not open my eyes, but I continue forward. My left foot steps out… and lands on a hard surface. Another step. Another step. My eyes still closed, I continue marching forward until the sound of my footsteps suddenly echo back from something large and close.
I come to a stop. At full attention, I open my eyes. I am standing before the Crowned and Throned figure. The bridge is intact before me. I steal a glance behind me and see the bridge is intact there as well. Far, far in the distance, I can see a small ridge on the horizon. I know it is the tower of Chesed.
I turn back to the figure and bow deeply in greeting. His eyes are open. The tall rod in his left hand is now a spear with a short blade at its tip. The bowl in his right hand is overfull, but not overflowing. The quicksilver fluid is now higher than the bowl. Only surface tension keeps the fluid from spilling over. Hovering over the bowl is a solitary drop of quicksilver. It ripples as if being blown upward by some great force, but I hear nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat and breathing.
“Are you ready to proceed?” His deep bass vibrates my joints as he speaks.
“Yes, Sir. I am ready.”
“Then proceed.”
The hovering drop of quicksilver suddenly falls into the overfull bowl. Silently it creates a splash and a ripple. The ripple travels quickly to the edge of the bowl where it overflows. And flows. And continues to flow. The bowl, which can’t possibly hold more than a gallon of liquid, is overflowing into the Abyss with a mighty flow of water. Suddenly, there is an ocean of quicksilver below the bridge and rising fast. And still, the bowl overflows. The quicksilver washes over the surface of the bridge, wetting my boots. The bowl never empties. It continues to overflow.
When the quicksilver reaches my knees, I turn my attention away from the rising level and fix them on the Crowned and Throned figure’s eyes. I note again, the whites of his eyes are glowing silver, as if of the very same liquid that is now soaking my waist. I am going to drown. The thought terrifies me, but I force myself to remain at attention.
The quicksilver looks like mercury, but is not mercury. It smells sweet and bitter and tart and cloying and like nothing at all. It soaks through my clothes, even through the boots, quickly. Nothing holds it back. It surges to my skin with purpose, feeling boiling hot and freezing cold at the same time.
I glance at the bowl and realize the level of the bowl is equal with my eyes. As the quicksilver level rises, I note that at the very least it will rise to match the bowl’s highest point. Which happens to be above my mouth and nose. A twinge of panic chills me followed by a strange and unbelievable calm. If I am going to drown, then I shall drown. I will not hinder it, nor struggle against it. Let me be enveloped.
I resume my focus on the Crowned and Throned figure’s face. The quicksilver comes up to my neck. I feel competing currents brush against me. I float ever so slightly. The soles of my boots scrape against the bridge. I stare at his eyes until the fluid overtakes my face. The bridge dissolves from under me.
I fall.
The quicksilver is transparent under the surface. There is a light source far above me. Just enough light to tell that I am descending into the depths. The fluid squeezes me. I know I am crying but my tears mix with the fluid becoming invisible to me. I have a sudden urge to kick and swim upwards, to struggle to reach for the light and the promise of air. My ears hurt from the pressure.
I open my mouth and allow the pressure to squeeze the air from my lungs.
I intentionally open my lungs, filling them with fluid.
I close my eyes.
I surrender to the quicksilver.
In peace, I drown.
…
I open my eyes.
I am standing on a path. A warm breeze welcomes me. It is early morning on a bright summer day.
I am standing on a carpeted walk. It is warm inside the grand building. It is early morning on a bright summer day.
I close my eyes and shake my head. I’m seeing two scenes at once. They are overlapping each other and confusing me. Am I outside, or inside?
The outside scene is of me standing before the mouth of a cave. Sitting just within, on a rough hewn stump, is an old wizened man. He is thin, dirty, and unkempt. His gray hair is pulled back in a tail. His long gray beard is scratchy and thin. His skin sags from decades of sun exposure. He grins warmly, however. His eyes are bright and quick. A wrap of faded pink cloth holds his modesty.
The inside scene is of me standing before an elaborate gilded throne in an expansive cathedral. Incense smoke swirls around me. I hear chanting of monks nearby. Stained glass windows speak silently of the travails of the saints. Seated on the throne is a grand pontiff. He holds a shepherd’s staff in his left hand. His body is almost swallowed up by the robes of his office. He smiles with sincere warmth at me. His eyes are bright and quick. His robes are dominated by the color pink.
Both men are the same man.
I accept I am in two worlds at once again. I bow in greeting. “Lord Asmodel.”
He smiles and nods. He gestures for me to come closer. The man in the cave waves quickly then pats his leg, as if he was greeting a grandchild. The man in the cathedral gestures with deliberate motion and points to the floor at his feet. I accept the instruction and come forward in both worlds.
The man in the cave extends his right hand. It is dusty and dirty and hasn’t touched water for a while. As I kneel, I move to grasp it but he moves quickly away. He places his right hand on my head. I bow my head in some barely remembered instinct.
The man in the cathedral extends his right hand. It is half concealed by the layers of robes and gold-trimmed sleeves. There are large rings on each finger, showing mystical symbols and allegories in plain sight. I know the custom is to kiss the largest of these rings in an act of religious submission to the pontiff. But I grasp the hand with both of my own as if clapping, and hold his hand above my bowed head. I fear it will be seen as offensive. I can feel him smiling in response.
The man in the cave laughs brightly and waits. I know then I must yield to the man in the cathedral. I swallow my pride and release the pontiff’s hand. The man in the cathedral places his hand on my head the same as his counterpart in the cave. I cross my arms over my chest and clasp my shoulders. I feel a strange peace come over me, not unlike when I accepted my death by drowning.
Lord Asmodel speaks over me in a language I do not know and have no hope of identifying. I feel weakened and strengthened. I feel despair and hope. I feel undone and remade. I feel as if I was nothing. I feel whole and complete.
His benediction completed, he lifts his hand. “Stand [Weaver]. Thank you for answering my call.” I do as instructed, taking a respectable step back as I do.
“It’s been a trial and a half, Lord Asmodel. But here I am. What can I help you with?”
“Tell me, what do you see?” Both men spoke in unison. The man in the cave drawled with country dialect. The man in the cathedral spoke with the measured pace of a trained orator. Yet their meaning was the same, for they were one and the same.
“I see two men in two settings. I see the old hermit in the cave, and I see the old pontiff in the cathedral. I am with both. I am with you, Lord Asmodel.”
Lord Asmodel nodded. “What did you expect to see, [Weaver]?
Good question. “Anything but the color pink!” He smiled and shared my mirth. “I… I didn’t know what to expect, Sir. Not after the Abyss, not after all that. I expected to see something I could process and comprehend. And I’m not quite sure I’m even seeing that. Not with us being in the cave and in the cathedral at once!”
“Those that expect to see the cave, will see the cathedral. Those that expect to see the cathedral, will see the cave. Those that expect to see both, will see neither. Those that expect to see neither, will see both. There is wisdom here, for yourself, and those that hear your tales.” Lord Asmodel’s eyes flashed like light reflected off quicksilver, and for a moment I was afraid again.
“Turn, [Weaver], and tell me what you see.” I turned around. From the mouth of the cave, I saw fields and fields of agriculture in various stages of processing and growth. I saw pens of domesticated animals. I saw threshing floors and killing fields and manure being mixed with hay.
From the throne of the pontiff, I saw rows and rows of pews filled with great multitudes of peoples. I saw shrines filled with lit candles from floor to ceiling. I saw monks and nuns tending to the elderly and the young. I saw children forced into servitude and rich men paying for indulgences and armed guards holding back the ritually unclean.
I told Lord Asmodel this. “You see the same thing in both worlds. The only difference, is your perspective. Here, too, is wisdom.”
“But you did not come here to be taught. I have need of the Courier [Weaver]. Will you deliver a message for me?”
I turned to Lord Asmodel in confusion. “Of course, I shall, Sir. But…” The man in the cave burst into bright laughter. The man in the cathedral smiled and nodded patiently. “You are Lord Asmodel and Lord Asmodeus. Where can I go that you can not?”
“Yes. I am both. Yet which one do you see?”
“Asmodel. Both in the cave and in the cathedral.”
The man in the cave nodded vigorously while slapping his knee in mirth. The man in the cathedral closed his eyes and nodded formally in recognition. “This message must be sent from my aspect as Asmodel. An aspect that can not travel far, as you see. Or I would have come to you instead of asking you to enter the Abyss.”
I felt chastised by the gentle words. I stiffened to attention and bowed. “Forgive my arrogance, Sir Asmodel. My passage through the Abyss has been trying.”
The man in the cave laughed even harder, but not in mockery. It was an acknowledgement of my struggle. His laughter lifted my spirits. The man in the cathedral lifted his right hand and gestured a benediction over me. Probably to grant me more patience. Or himself more, to be able to deal with me. Hard to tell.
Both men reached in their cloth and withdrew a small object that looked like rolled parchment. Buttery cream in color, it was tied with a length of deep purple ribbon. The ribbon was sealed with wax, into which a seal had been impressed. I have never seen this seal before, but I knew it was Asmodel’s seal.
I took the roll. From my satchel I was able to withdraw a silver chain which I wrapped around my waist. To the chain I attached a small silver tube, just large enough to take the rolled message without risking prematurely breaking the seal. I placed the roll within, closed the tube, and cold-welded the end closed with smithing words I had learned from Esse.
“To whom am I delivering this message, Lord Asmodel?”
“[That guy].”
What I wanted to say: “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
What I said: “Will this be the only missive, Lord Asmodel?”
The man in the cave only smiled in dangerous conspiracy. The man in the cathedral chuckled with subtle amusement. “Yes. That is all. I trust you can deliver this soon?”
“Within 48 hours of time in the Waking, unless you need it delivered sooner. It will take some time to arrange a meeting with [That guy]. He may allow me access the moment I request it, he may make me wait a bit.”
Both men nodded in agreement. “No, that will do. Within seven of your Waking days will suffice.” I bowed stiffly in acceptance of the terms. Before I could turn to leave, Asmodel spoke. “You have not requested payment.”
I stood before the man in the cave, before the man in the cathedral, and reflected on all it took to come to this point. The self-inspection, the emotional searing, the confrontation of the obscene bed where my hubris and my fear fucked each other senseless and the ego that spawns from than union daily. The admissions I had to make to myself even though they gutted me to speak it.
I did not have to come through. I could have turned away. I could have stayed hiding under the covers. The summons would never have become compulsory. I knew that the moment I saw where Lord Asmodel’s kingdom was. You don’t get dragged across the Abyss against your will. The moment you conceive “I won’t.” in your heart, you don’t.
Lord Asmodel gave me the excuse I needed to try. I needed to see what I was. What I am. Snake is right, I am not the same person that watched Sekhmet at the Temple of Ra. But I have found I am not what I thought I was, either. Payment? For what I have learned of myself, I could not take payment.
“I am richer for coming here, Lord Asmodel.” I bowed in stiff formality. “The least I could do is justify my intrusion.”
“Child. No one comes here unless I allow it. I shall send a compensation to you later.” The way his voice lowered told me that my audience with him was over. I bowed once more and spoke my farewells.
The man in the cave sighed, smiled, slapped his knee, and waved farewell. The man in the cathedral drew signs of benediction in the air, spoke graces over me, and bid me farewell.
I turned, took a step, and fell into liquid darkness.
…
I opened my eyes. Cold hard stone was under my knees. Cool air was heavy around me. My head was bowed. My hands were brought up to my face, palms pressed together as if I was praying. I looked up and saw the Crowned and Throned figure seated before me. His eyes were closed. His spear remained in his left hand. The bowl of quicksilver remained in his right, still filled to the threshold of overflowing. A solitary drop of quicksilver hovered over the bowl, rippling from the application of an unseen force. All was dry, including me, as if the flood never happened.
“Chronozon. Thank you.” My voice was harsh and dry. I was thirsty. My body hurt in places I didn’t think existed physically.
“Have you what you desire?” He spoke without moving his mouth. His voice made my body tremble just the same.
I checked to see if I still had the silver tube and chain. Secure about my waist, they reminded me of my duty. “I do.”
“Then depart.” The bridge turned into dust under us. I, podium, throne, bowl, spear, and he fell into the devouring vastness of the Abyss.
…
I opened my eyes. Snake’s Berber face loomed over mine. “Welcome back. You brought souvenirs?” I was seated at the granite table in the lair. Snake stood erect and placed a coffee on the table before me. He tugged at the silver chain and listened to it jingle. “Sealed. Courier run?”
Oh, ambrosia! I sipped the coffee and sought solace in its taste. “Yea. Running a sealed message. You’ll never guess to whom.”
He sat across from me with a delicate cup of tea for himself. “[I keep forgetting his name.]?”
I almost burbled in my coffee. “Ha! No. [That guy].”
Snake lost his mirth. He sighed deeply. “Stay out of extra trouble, will you.” He peers at my chest intently. “Remove your shirt. And explain to me how you hid that from me earlier and what the hell you are doing with it now.” He stood from the table and went to the back rooms.
Curious, I removed the full coat, the mess coat, and the dress shirt. Gleaming in my chest, embedded above the sternum, was a shining jewel. I paled on seeing it.
“The baby… it’s been with me since… Shit. It went with me to the Abyss! But…”
Snake returned with a small keepsake box. Carved from alabaster and lined with carded cotton, it barely fit in my hand. He plucked the jewel from me and placed it in the box. “Are you collecting the dead now? Have you a story for me?”
I told him of what happened yesterday. “None of the angeli would claim it. As the day… heh… went on, I forgot it was there. Shit. What should I do?”
He closed the lid, sealing it. “It is not harmed.” He placed it on the shelves. “It will be safe here for now. Take care of the business with [That Guy]. I will make inquiries. You might want to talk to [a certain person]. But for now, you have business in the Waking to attend to. Go tend to it.”
And I did.