CHAPTER 36

  HenryDay.Nomatterhowmanytimesutteredorwritten,thosetwowordsremainanenigma.ThefaerieshadcalledmeAnidayforsolongthatIhadbeethename.HenryDayissomeoneelse.Intheend,afterourmonthsofwatghim,Ifeltnoenvyfortheman,onlyasortofrestraiy.Hehadbeesoold,anddesperationbowedhisshouldersandmarkedhisface.HenryhadtakenmyhelifeIcouldhavelived,arunthroughhisfingers.Howpassingstraosettleonthesurfaceoftheworld,boundtotimeandlosttooruenature.

  Iwentbaybook.Ourenteroutsidethelibraryspookedme,soIwaitedht,andbeforedawn,throughthey,Islidintotheolddarkenedroomandlitasingledletoshowtheway.Ireadmystoryandwassatisfied.TriedtosiesofHenryssong.Intoonebumymanuscript,papersfromwhenIfirstarrived,aerfromSpedintoanother,Henrysscore.ThelastoftheseIplaoleaveathisertable.Ourmischiefover,thetimehadetomakeamends.Aboveme,glasscrashed,asifawindowbrokeandshattered.Anobseexclamation,athudtothefloor,thenthesoundoffootstepsapproagthehiddentrapdoor.

  PerhapsIshouldhaverunawayatthefirstce.Myemotionsdriftedfromdreadtoexcitement,asensationnotuingatthedagoformyfathersdailyreturnfromworktomeinhisarms,orthosefirstdaysintheforestwhenIexpectedSpecktoshowupsuddenlyandrelievemylonesomeness.NosuchillusionswithHenryDay,forhewoulddoubtlessnotbefrieeralltheseyears.ButIdidnothatehim.Iplannedmywords,howIwouldfivehim,presenthisstolenmusic,givehimmyname,andbidhimfarewell.

  Hesawedawayatthecarpetingtofigureouthowtogetintothecrawl-space,whileIpacedbeh,pwhethertoetohisaid.Afteray,hefoundthedoorandswungitbaitshinges.Aspotlightfloodedinfromabove,likesunshinepiergadarkforest.Aperfectsquareseparatedourtwoworlds.Allatonce,hestuckhisheadintheframeandpeeredintotheblaess.Idartedovertotheopeningandlookedhimstraightintheeyes,hissixinchesfrommyown.Thesightofhimdiscertedme,fornosignofkindnessnitionmarkedhisfeatures,noexpressionbutrawdisgust,whichtwistedhismouthintoasnarl,andragebeatoutofhiseyes.Likeamadman,heclamberedthroughtheholeintoourworld—atoronehand,akheother,acoilofropeunspoolingacrosshischest—andchasedmeintotheer."Keepyourdistance,"Iwarned."Isendyoufromthisworldinasingleblow."Buthekepting.Henrysaidhewassorryforwhathewasabouttodoandliftedthelanternabovemyhead,soIranrightpasthim.Hethrewthefireatmyback.

  Thelanternglassbrokeandablazespilledoutlikewateroverapileofblas,andthewoolsmolderedandburned,flamesragstraightformypapers.Wefacedeachotherinthesmlight.Asthefireroaredandburnedbrighter,herushedforickedupallthepapers.Hiseyeswidehesightofhisscoreandmydrawings.Ireachedforthebook,anxiousonlyforSpecksletter,ahrewitintotheerformetoretrieve.WhenIturnedaround,HenryDaywasgone,andhisons—therope,thekheironbar—wereonthefloor.Thetrapdedclosed,andalong,thincrackopenedoverhead.Theflamesburstupward,brighteningtheroomasifsuhroughthewalls.

  Ontheceilingapicturebeganteiernelight.Intheordinarydarkhesurfaesseemednothingmorethanrandomcradpockmarksinthefoundation,butasthefirereachedmorefuel,theoutlinesflaredandflickered.Theshapespuzzledme,butonceIperceivedthepieces,thewholebecameapparent:theraggedEastCoastoftheUates,thefishliketoursoftheGreatLakes,thebroadayplains,theRockies,andontothePacific.Directlyabovemyhead,theblackbrushstrokeoftheMississippidividedthenation,andsomewhereinMissouri,hertrailcrossedtheriverandracedwest.Speckhadmarkedherescaperouteanddraofthetrailtofollowfromourvalleytothewesterno.Shemusthaveworkedalohedarkformonthsoryears,armsarchedtotheceiling,chippingawayatthestoneorpaintingwitharoughbrush,notshowingasoul,hopingforthedayhersecretwouldbediscovered.Aroulihetry,shehadetchedandpaihatroughcreteastellationofdrawingsinvisiblethesemanyyears.Hundredsofinscriptions,primitiveandchildlike,imageslaidoveres,eachstorytoldoni??pofitsaor.Someofthedrawingslookeda,asifaprehistorighadbeenhereamemorieslikepaintingsonacavewall:aflockofcrowslightingfromatree,abraceofquail,deeratastream.Shehaddrawnwildflowers,oxlips,violets,andthyme.Therewerecreaturesfromherdreams,horhriflesandfiercedogs.Spritesandimpsandgoblins.Icarus,Vishnu,theangelGabriel.Othersasmodernascartoons:IgnatzthrowsthebrickatKrazyKat,LittleNemoslumbersinWonderland,Kokojumpsoutoftheinkwell.Amotherwithachildinherarms.Apodofwhalesargthroughthewaves.Spiralsropedintoknots,agarlandknittedfrgloryvihepicturesunedthemselvesinthedangflames.Thetemperatureroseasinanoven,butIcouldnotsavemyselffromherwilddesigns.Inthedarkester,shehadpaintedalefthandandarighthand,thumbsoverlapping.Hernameandmineinadozenfonts.Twofiguresracedoverahill;aboywithhishandcaughtinabeehive;apairofreaderssatbacktobaountainofbooks.Ontheceilingabovetheentraheouterworld,shehadcarvedewithmeandplay.Thefiresuckedintheoxygen,andtherushhtmyheartaopen.Ihadtoleave.

  IstudiedSpeckspassagewest,hopingtoitittomemory.WhyhadIneverbeforethoughttolookup?Aderpoppedandflewlikethedevilupundermyeyelid.Smokeafilledtheroom,soIgatheredMessbookaherpapersandrantotheexit,butmybundlewouldnotfitthroughthecraotherpileofblasignited,sendingawaveofheatthatkomykoreopenthepackage,scatteringpaperstothefloor.CloseathandwereSpecksletteraraychildhooddrawings,whichIpressedagainstmychest;thenIsqueezedthroughtheopeningandintothefreshnight.

  Thestarshadeoutandthecricketswerefiddlingmadly.Myclothingsmelledofsoot,andmanyofthepageshadbeenscorchedattheedges.Theendsofmyhairhadbeensingedoff,andeveryinchofbareskinthrobbed,red,asifsunburned.Painshhthesolesofmybarefeetwitheachstep,butIknewenoughtogetawayfromaburningbuilding,droppingafewmesatthedoorasIrantowardthewoods.Thelibrarygroanedondthenthefloorcollapsedupotoandthousandsofstorieswentupinflames.FromagreenhideawayIheardthesirensofthefireenginesingtofightthebougthepapersintomyshirt,Istartedthelongtriphome,rememberingthemadlookinHenryseyesandallthathadbeenlost.Inthepletedarkness,firefliesflashedtheirsemaphoresoflonging.

  Speckmadeit,Iamsure,fromheretothere,andlivedonarockyshore,thebrightPacificherdailypanionasshegatheredmusselsandclamsandcrabsfromtidalpools,sleptonthesand.Shewouldbebrownasaberry,herhairatangleofknots,herarmsarongasropesfromswimminginthesea.Inoneloh,shewouldexhalethestoryofherjourneyacrossthetry,thepinesofPennsylvania,thefieldsafieldsandsoybeansoftheMidwest,sunflowersofKansas,upthesteeppitchoftheDivide,summersnowintheRockies,PaintedDesertbeyond,andfinallyoinview,ohjoy!Andthen:Whattookyousolong?AndIwouldgivehermystory,thisstoryandHenryDays,untilinherarmsagai.OnlythroughimaginingcouldIbearthepain.Suchadreamdrewmehomewardstepbytorturedstep.

  Theotherfaeriestookkindeupourntoextm.OnionsandBékascouredthewoodsforbalmtosoothemyblisteredfeet.Chavisorylimpedofftothecisternanddrewajugofcoolwatertoquenchmythirstandwashtheashfrommyskinandhair.Myoldfriendssatbesidemetoheartheadveohelpmesalvagemyliteraryremains.Onlyafesfromthepastsurvivedtoprovethatithadoed.ItoldthemallIcouldrememberaboutSpecksmapontheceilingashehadleftbehind,hopingtostoreitinthecollectivesciousnessofthetribe.

  "Youllsimplyhavetoremember,"saidLuchóg.

  "Relyuponthemind,foritisaplicatedmaeinsideyourskull."Smaolachsaid."IstillrecallexactlyhowIfeltwhenIfirstsawyou

  "Whatthememoryloses,imaginationre-creates."Chavisoryhadbeenspendingfartoomuchtimewithmyoldfriend.

  "SometimesIdontknowwhetherlifesstraurnshappenedorIdreamedthem,orifmymemoryrememberswhatisrealorthedream."

  "Amindoftesownworld,"saidLuchóg,"tohelppassthetime."

  "Illneedpaper.Doyourememberwhenyotmesomepaper,Luchóg?ThatkindnessIllneverfet."

  Frommemory,ItransferredSpecksmapontheceilingtothebackofherletter,andintheweeksthatfollowed,IaskedSmaolachtofiailedmapofthetryandanybookhecouldaboutCaliforniaandthePacificO.Shemightbeanyplacealoherncoast.TherewasaintythatIwouldfihelarge,wideland,butthepossibilitysustainedmeasIbeganagain.MyfeethealedasIsatquietlyinourcamp,writingeverydayoutdoorswhiletheheatofAugustgavewaytothecoolweeksofearlyautumn.

  Asthemaplesflamedtoyellowandred,andtheoakstocrispybrown,astrangesounddriftednowandagainfromthetownahehillstoourcamp.Emanatingfromthechurstillnights,themusicarrivedinstartsandfits,brokennowandagainbyothersounds—traffithehighway,crowdsratFridaynightfootballgames,aterofintrudesuponmodernlife.Runninglikeariver,themusicforkedthroughtheforestandspilleddownfromtheridgeintlerahesuddensound,wewouldstoptolisten,andmadwithcuriosity,LuchógandSmaolachsetouttofinditssource.TheycamebackbreathlesswithnewsoeOctht.

  "Stayjustashortwhile,astoirín,anditwillbeready."

  Bythelightofthefire,Iwaslashiherstraptomytravelpouch."Andwhatwillbeready,myfriend?"

  Heclearedhisthroat,andwheilldidmyattention,hecoughedagain,butlouder.IlookeduptoseehimgrinningandLuchógholdinganunrolledposteralmostasbigashimself.Allbuthishandsahaddisappearedbehindthebroadside.

  "Youhaveitupsidedown,Luch."

  "Surelyyoureaditanywhichway,"heplained,andthenherightedtheposter.ThecertatthechurchwasscheduledfortwodayshendIwasstruotonlythetidebut,underhit,asmallwoodgravingoftwofiguresinflightandpursuit.

  "Whieisthefaery,andwhichisthechild?"

  Smaolasideredtheartwork."Nomatterwhatyouthink,yourejustaslikelythtaswrong.Butyoullstayforthesymphony?posedbyHenryDay,andhimplayingtheanaswell."

  "Youtmissthat,"Luchógargued."Anotherdayortwo,andthejourneyisjustaslong."

  Wefootedourwaythroughthedarkforest,alastbitofmischieftogether,takingbolddelightiningcloseyetnotbeingseen.Onthenightofthecertwehidinthegraveyardasthepeoplefiledintothechurdtheopeninghesymphonysoaredthroughthewindowsandeoohepreludeannouncedhisgrandthemes,endinginalongsoloonthean.Heplayedbeautifully,Illadmit,andweweredrawncloser,risingonebyonefrombehindthegravestoostaothechurdows.BékaedhisarmsaroundOnions,andwhisperedinherear.Whenshebegantolaughathisjoke,heclampedahandagainsthermouthtillshesputteredforbreathandtheill.Chavisorymimedtheroleofductor,herhandstragardwavesinthesky.Myoldies,LuchógandSmaolach,leanedagainstthechurchwallandsmoked,staringatthenightstars.

  gmybagayshoulders—Icarriedmybookiniteverywherenow—Imademywayaroundtoarearwindowanddaredlookin.Henryhadhisbacktotheaudiendrockedasheplayedthean,fiertrationwrittenonhisface.Whenheclosedhiseyesandmovedihtheriseandfallofthenotes,hewaslost.Thestringsaloookupthemeasures,andhesawmethroughthewindow,butthepeacefullookneverlefthisface.Henrywastransformed,youhanbefore,morelikeamanthanamonster.IwouldthinkonhimnolongerandsoonbegowhetherornotherealizedIinteoleave,Ieverknow.

  Thecrowdinthepewswastransfixedbythesmallorchestra,andIamquitesurethathadatedmelookingthroughthewindow,theywouldhaverushedpastthealtarandoutintothechurchyard.SoIhadtherarecetostudytheirfacesfromafar,reizingatonryswifeandson,Edward,inthefrontrow.ThankgoodnessIhadvincedBékaandOnionstoleavethatchildalone.Mostoftheotherpeoplewerestraome.Ikepthopingtoseemysisters,but,ofcourse,theyarestillagelesschildreninmymemory.Anolderwoman,holdingherfingersagainstherlipsasshelistened,seemedtoglancemywayowidwhenshedidso,sheremindedmeofmymother,thelastIshallseeofher.Somepartofmedesiredtocrawlthroughtheopeningandruofeelherhandagainstmycheek,tobeheld,tobeknownbyher,butmyplaotamongthem.Goodbye,mydear,Iwhisperedtoher,surethatshecouldnothear,buthopingthatsomehowsheuood.

  Hesmilingandplaying,andlikeabookthemusictoldastorythatseemed,inpart,agift—asif,inouronlyonlanguage,heressingwhatbeatinhisheart.Somesorrow,perhaps,someremorse.Itwasenoughforme.Themusiccarriedusintwodires,asifaboveandbelow;andierludes,thespacesbetweees,Ithoughthe,too,wastryingtosaygoodbye,goodbyetothedoublelife.Theahedandlaidsounduponsound,andthenexhaledintosilence."Aniday,"Luchóghissed,andIshrankfromthewindowtotheground.Abeatortwo,andthecrowdburstlikeathuorm.Onebyone,wefaeriesroseanddisappearedintothefallingdarkness,glidingpastthegravestonesandbatotheforest,asifwehadneverbeenamongthepeople.

  HavingmadeamendswithHenryDay,Iamreadytoleaveetomorrow.Thisversionofmystoryhasnottakennearlyaslongtore-create.Ihavenotbeenedwithputtingdownallthefaoradetailedexplanationofthemagic,asfarasIuandsuchthings,ofthepeoplewholivediandbelow.Ourkindarefew,andnolongerdeemednecessary.Fargreatertroublesexistforchildreninthemodernworld,andIshuddertothinkofrealandlurkingdangers.Likesomanymyths,ourstorieswillonedaynolooldorbelieved.Reagtheend,Ilamentallthoselostsoulsandthosedearfriebehind.Onions,Béka,Chavisory,andmyoldpalsSmaoladLuchógaretenttoremainastheyare,indifferentchildrenoftheearth.Theywillbefihoutme.Weallgoawayoneday.

  Shouldbyyofyouseemymother,tellherIcherishhereverykindnessandmissherstill.Sayhellotomybabysisters.Killtheirchubbycheeksforme.AndknowthatIwillcarryyouallwithmewhenIleaveinthem.Headiasfarasthewaterstolookforher.Morebeatsthanbloodintheheart.Aname,love,hope.Iamleavingthisbehindforyou,Specaseyoureturnandwesomehowmisseachother.Shouldthatbeso,thisbookisforyou.

  Iamgoneandamnotingback,butIremembereverything.松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读

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